Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Later that night, after a long soak in the bath, Pippa slipped under the covers and dialled Rose, pressing the phone tight to her ear.
As soon as her best friend answered, Pippa whispered, ‘You’ll never guess who the other competition winner is.’
‘Why are you whispering?’ Rose whispered straight back. ‘Better yet, why am I whispering?’ She laughed.
‘Because I’m in bed and he’s just over the landing.’
‘He who?’
Pippa closed her eyes. ‘Theo.’
Silence. Then an intake of breath. ‘Theo Blake?’
‘Yes.’
‘Your Theo Blake?’
‘He was never my—’
‘You were obsessed with him at uni,’ Rose barrelled on. ‘You may have pretended you weren’t after Freshers’ Week, but it was only yourself you were kidding.’
‘I did not pretend—’
‘Pippa,’ Rose said seriously, ‘this is fate.’
‘This is coincidence,’ Pippa whispered far too loudly. ‘Need I remind you he’s married?’
‘Still,’ Rose said, undeterred. ‘Do you remember your mum? That lunch in second year when we came together to visit? When she said…’
Pippa groaned silently. ‘Please don’t.’
‘…“He sounds like the man you’ll marry one day,”’ Rose finished triumphantly.
‘And yet,’ Pippa whispered fiercely, ‘I almost married someone else this morning. So I think we can all agree I’m not even thinking about marriage again so soon. Also, you can’t marry a man who is already married.’
Rose laughed softly. ‘You have to go for any opportunity that presents itself.’
‘He. Is. Married,’ Pippa repeated, each word careful and quiet.
‘Yes, but is he happily married?’
‘That,’ Pippa said, ‘is none of my business. I’m here to get my life in order. Not to complicate it further.’
‘You say that,’ Rose replied, ‘but you rang me to tell me right away.’
‘That’s because you’re my best friend, and I tell you everything. Now, I need grounding. Not encouragement.’
She glanced at the bedside table where her grandfather’s old watch lay. Its second hand ticked steadily on.
‘Oh,’ she added, lowering her voice even more, ‘and you’ll never guess what else.’
‘Go on…’
‘The watch that Dad gave me just before I arrived at the hotel – the one that originally belonged to my grandfather and never worked – it’s working.’
‘Well,’ Rose said lightly, ‘maybe it was just waiting for you to start the right chapter of your life.’
Pippa shook her head as she smiled. ‘You’re impossible.’
‘And yet,’ Rose said, ‘remarkably often right.’
Pippa shook her head, staring at the ceiling. ‘I’m hanging up.’
‘Fine,’ Rose said cheerfully. ‘But just so you know, Paddy Power odds are a dead cert that this is meant to be.’
‘You are completely deluded,’ Pippa whispered, before ending the call.
She lay there in the dark, heart thudding, listening to the quiet tick of the watch. The faint, infuriating awareness of Theo Blake on the other side of the wall was the last thing going through her mind as she fell asleep.
* * *
Pippa woke up with a mild headache, caused partly by the slight hangover and partly by having to face the consequences of running out on her wedding: none of her own clothes, minimal makeup, and no footwear even remotely suitable for the relentless rain outside.
She leaned down and fumbled inside the rucksack, hoping to discover a couple of paracetamols, and was glad to discover that Rose hadn’t let her down.
There, in the side pocket next to a phone charger, were two tablets in a battered old box.
Sitting up in bed, listening to the downpour that hadn’t let up for most of the night – something she knew thanks to hours of tossing and turning – Pippa settled on a simple plan.
She would ignore Theo Blake as much as possible, and focus on the positives.
She was staying at the legendary Clockmaker’s Cottage, and today she would see her idol, Horace Vale, give his first interview in decades.
Slowly, she pushed herself up, tugged open the curtains, then sank back into the bed, watching water streak down the glass in endless silvery lines.
Clemmie’s voice from yesterday rang in her memory, reminding her to pop into the café for breakfast before the convention started, and that was her very plan after she got dressed.
She knew Theo was already up from the faint gurgle of water from the bathroom.
As she shifted in bed, her gaze fell onto his university T-shirt, which she’d slept in.
It was soft cotton and oversized, and without thinking she lowered her nose to the fabric and breathed in.
Ridiculous, she knew, but the scent hit her anyway: not aftershave exactly, just warm, unmistakably masculine, and maddeningly clean.
Somehow, it was … nice, and she hated herself for thinking that.
Theo Blake was the kind of man who turned heads.
He dressed to impress, and always smelled good.
Every single woman who was in a room with him hoped he looked in her direction.
And after what Rose had said last night, it seemed Pippa hadn’t hidden her own feelings nearly as well as she’d thought.
Yes, Pippa liked him once – properly liked him – but then he’d underestimated and dismissed her, made her feel small without ever really knowing her.
So she’d packed those feelings away, labelled them a mistake, and taught herself to forget them.
Except now she was curled up in his T-shirt, and the faint scent of it was stirring things she had no intention of revisiting … not where Theo Blake was concerned.
For a second, she toyed with the idea of finding somewhere else to stay – with the weather like this, the B it was about finally putting herself first – although, granted, it would have been better for everyone if she had come to that decision a little sooner.
After plugging in her phone to charge, she felt an unexpected sense of relief. It came with the realisation that she was officially untethered. No more Rob. No wedding. No life shaped around being someone else’s polite, manageable future wife. It was just her.
And, of course, Theo, for the short term. She could hear him humming to himself in the room across the narrow landing.
Her brain immediately conjured the layout of the cottage – the small distance between them, the creaky floorboard outside the loo – and then she remembered the way he’d handed her the wine and clothes last night like he hadn’t been the bane of her academic existence for three years straight.
She found herself shaking her head as she remembered his words.
‘Don’t turn right.’
As if she would.
She climbed out of bed, the T-shirt hanging loosely on her frame to mid-thigh, the faded university crest stretched across her chest. She padded over to the window and looked out.
Water was running down the lanes in fast streams, and judging by the blackness of the sky it wasn’t going to stop anytime soon.
The rain was loud, but beneath it she could still hear the pocket watch ticking away.
She heard the soft click of a door and caught the tail end of Theo’s humming as it drifted away down the stairs before fading altogether.
She pulled on the lounge pants he’d lent her, which were far too long, and cinched them at the waist with the faded drawstring.
And there it was again: his scent. A mix of washing powder and Theo.
She frowned and gave herself a small shake.
It was nothing, she told herself, just mildly distracting.
She rolled up the hems, then padded downstairs towards the kitchen, her bare feet cold against the polished wooden floor.
Theo, the man she loved to hate, was standing in front of the hob singing along to his phone while doing a little shimmy.
The second she saw him she felt agitated.
He shouldn’t be here. It should be another clock-loving freak that she could bond with over their shared interest. Instead, this felt like a ticking time bomb.