she’s not lying about the mole being nothing…
I tell her about my conversation with Fergus, laughing about the Catalonians weird ‘yule log pooping’ custom, hoping to cheer her up. But she just smiles wanly and goes back to whipping the cream.
‘Hasn’t it surrendered yet?’ I enquire casually after a while.
She frowns.
I point at her bowl with a smile. ‘You’ve beaten that cream into submission several times over.’
‘Have I?’ She looks confused. ‘God, sorry…miles away.’
‘It’s fine.’ I pause. ‘You know I’m here, any time you want to talk?’
She shakes her head quickly. ‘Thanks. But I’m fine.’
I frown thoughtfully. Flo always declares she’s glad to be rid of Ed. But maybe she’s not really over him at all. I know as well as anyone that you can block out the bad stuff for a while – but it will always come back to haunt you, usually when you’re least expecting it…
My attention is suddenly caught by a movement outside and I wander over. The kitchen windows overlook the courtyard at the back of the manor, and Noah has emerged into the thick snow, muffled up in a dark coat and scarf. My eyes linger on his dark hair and his broad shoulders, recalling how his presence at dinner last night knocked my composure completely.
Flo joins me at the window. ‘What’s happening?’
I jump. ‘Oh, nothing. I’m just – um – admiring the snow. It makes everything look so Christmassy, doesn’t it?’
She grins. ‘It does indeed. Although are you sure it’s the snow you’re admiring?’
I turn with a shocked look, warmth surging into my cheeks. ‘Yes, of course I’m sure!’
She gives me a disbelieving smile and walks off. And I’m about to get back to work myself when I see Melanie running out into the snow after Noah, her long blonde curly hair bouncing below her red and white bobble hat. She shouts for him and he turns and waits for her, looking surprised. They chat. Well, mostly Melanie talks, although she keeps looking down at her feet as if the conversation they’re having isn’t an easy one for her. At one point, she turns away, shaking her head. But Noah puts his arm around her shoulders and she turns back, and then they’re both laughing. As they walk off, Melanie loops her arm through Noah’s.
I watch them go, crunching off through the snow, an oddly wistful feeling inside.
They’re old friends who haven’t seen each other for a while. It wouldn’t be unheard of for friendship to blossom into romance…
CHAPTER EIGHT
‘Do you want the butter out of the fridge?’ asks Flo, interrupting my reverie, knowing I want to make a start on tomorrow’s dessert.
I turn. ‘Yes, please. It’s a bugger to work with when it’s rock hard, and this chocolate log has to be spectacular.’
She puts the pack of butter on the work top with a knowing smile. ‘I’m sure it will be. If you can manage to tear your eyes away from the – um – snow!’
I shake my head with a sheepish smile. ‘Did anyone ever tell you that you’ve got a very fertile imagination.’
‘Noah Jackson is a very handsome man.’
‘Is he? I hadn’t noticed.’
She laughs. ‘Well, assuming you haven’t mysteriously mislaid your eyesight, I really can’t imagine how.’
I shrug. ‘I’m not in the market for romance, so why would I even bother looking?’
She nods, her smile vanishing. She comes and stands near me, throwing the tea towel she’s holding over her shoulder and leaning back against the bench. ‘You know, I can totally see why you wouldn’t want to start dating again,’ she says softly. ‘But it’s been a while since…?’
I swallow and look down, feeling my chin wobble.
She blows out her breath. ‘Honestly, me and my bloody big mouth! Just ignore me, Jenny. I actually can’t imagine what it’s been like for you these past twelve months, since losing Harvey. But it will get better, I promise.’
She rubs my arm, and I nod and try to smile, as a tumble of emotions threaten to overwhelm me.
That’s what it’s like. I can be fine, thinking I’m moving on, and then next moment, it’s all flooding back like a huge tidal wave, taking me under…and I’m drowning once more in the mind-numbing horror of it all…
Thinking of the future terrifies me. But so does looking back at the past. If I could learn to just live in the present, maybe I could put a stop to the harrowing images that plague me. But you can’t control your thoughts, however much you might