a little longer. With his arms around me we talked about nothing, stifling yawns, taking occasional sips of our drinks. The bar had long since closed and all we had to do was head back to our bedroom.
‘How did you find out about this place?’ I said, leaning back into his body, enjoying the smell of him, faint hint of aftershave and fresh air.
I felt a stiffening around me as Luke rested his head on my shoulder. ‘My mum and I stopped off here once,’ he said, ‘on the way back from one of her friend’s houses.’
Luke didn’t speak about his parents a lot. I knew they had been a close family, travelling together when Luke was a teen, camping in Wales and France, trips to Scotland, a road trip through Europe. Photo albums were cluttered with pictures from these places: Luke as a toothy child, then a gangly, awkward teen, always in the middle of his parents, their arms casually around his waist or shoulders: unselfconscious and content.
When I first met him he had been reeling from the sudden death of his father from a heart attack, and then cruelly, a year into our relationship, his mother had been diagnosed with cancer. She died less than six weeks later. Sometimes it was easy to assume his grief had faded with time but then I would catch him sometimes staring out at something, not focusing, and recognise the expression: that he was somewhere in the past when they had both been there with him.
I didn’t say anything, simply twisted a little and wrapped my arms around his neck, resting my forehead against his. I could feel his breath on my face and he brushed my lips with his.
‘Let’s go upstairs now,’ he said, his meaning clear.
Whispered giggles as we navigated our way up the crooked wooden staircase, Luke narrowly missing cracking his head on a beam. We made it to our room, an upholstered armchair in the corner, a patterned rug, the glow of the bedside lamp and the bed immaculate, crisp white sheets and a small round mint left on each pillow. We left the small window open, the silhouette of the fields and treeline beyond, the sky spattered with a thousand stars, the moonlight streaking our bed. Luke tucked me into his arms and as we lay there together I felt his chest rise and fall beneath me. Everything slow and easy. It felt as if we were somewhere other-worldy for the night, and my eyes drooped.
We barely spoke over breakfast the next morning, the poached eggs runny and delicious, the bacon crispy. Enjoying the silence we meandered down the footpaths through the woods and fields, holding hands, listening to the chatter of insects, the dappled pathways smelling earthy and rich, gradually turning back, past streams where we played half-hearted games of Pooh sticks before knowing we had to head home.
Sliding into the driving seat, I glanced back at the old stone cottage, the weathered sign outside, the garden of the pub, empty now. I was glad to be wearing my sunglasses, feeling a sudden lump in my throat. Biting my lip I tied my hair back in a ponytail, blinked and placed the key in the ignition. Silly to feel emotional.
We’d been gone twenty-four hours but the time had seemed to stretch on and on as if I’d returned from a spa break or a week in the sun. I felt refreshed and energetic as I moved the car back through the lanes, sneaking glances at Luke leaning back in his seat, sunglasses on. Arriving back into London, carefully returning the car to Howard, petrol tank full by way of thanks.
‘Did you have a fabulous time?’ Howard asked as I handed him the keys.
I looked back at Luke, who was busying himself with our bags, his hair ruffled, his whole demeanour relaxed, and felt a wide grin crack my face open. ‘The best,’ I said. ‘Just the best.’
Darling Cora,
I am pleased to report Lottie and Luke seem to have returned refreshed and reinvigorated from a wonderful weekend away together. They drove to the countryside in Howard’s soft top so although they had a lovely time, I had a whole weekend of Howard fretting over the continued well-being of his precious car. It was, of course, returned without a scratch on it: that man really does love that vehicle more than any human being.
I’m pleased with the progress we’ve made with Lottie and Luke: this scheme has been