swung closed behind him with a crash that seemed as though even the house was grateful that he’d gone.
‘The phone signal isn’t that bad,’ I muttered, when the echoes of Luc’s leaving had died down.
I made myself another cup of tea and congratulated myself on standing up to Luc, even though he hadn’t really taken any notice. Time and distance and, yes, the need to defend this damp little corner of the county were doing me good. They reduced his glamour and the feel that I needed to appease him, to keep him on side. I’d always felt that I needed Luc, somehow. Needed him as an ally in bringing up Poppy. But now I was beginning to see that I needed to be her ally; we could be a team against her father’s determined sexism and over-privilege. If she wanted to be a waitress all her life, then I would make absolutely sure that was what she did. Even though every atom of my being might be screaming at me about lost opportunities and wasted potential, I would be damned if a single word would give me away.
I knew what it was like to be on the other side. Poppy would never find out.
My phone buzzed on the table and I picked it up.
It was Gabriel. ‘Are you back at the cottage?’ His voice was distorted and broken over a line that crackled and I mentally pulled a face at Luc.
‘Yes. It’s blowing a real gale tonight, isn’t it?’ Crackle. Silence. I looked down at the handset; Gabriel was, according to the phone, still on the line. ‘Hello?’
‘Sorry. I think it’s the weather, happens round here sometimes. Rain gets in the mast, or something. Sure you’re all right down there? Granny Mary still in the orchard? Not…’ crackle crackle ‘… halfway up an oak tree?’
I glanced out through the kitchen window. The little caravan, tucked snugly into the angle of the hedge, still threw a narrow blade of light across Patrick’s withers. He was eating from his hay net, which was swinging wildly from the apple tree, like a piñata for ponies.
‘We’re fine here.’
Another silence, but I could hear him breathing. ‘Is it – I mean, would it be all right if I came over tomorrow? I’d like to see you. To… talk.’
The thought blossomed in my mind of Gabriel sitting on my couch in the tiny front room, the light of the log-burner flickering over the angles of his cheekbones and reflecting from his eyes. ‘Oh, yes,’ I said, a little too quickly and breathlessly, and then, catching at myself, ‘that would be nice. Would you like a lift?’
He laughed. ‘It’s going to be worse tomorrow. You stay put. I’ll walk down over the cliffs.’
‘Be careful.’ I’d said it before I thought.
‘It’s okay, Katie,’ he said gently. ‘I’m hardly going to be standing on the cliff edge leaning into the wind and going “wheeeee”, am I? I’ve known this place all my life. I know how to stay safe.’
The image of him, all dark and firelit, faded before the image of Poppy and Rory standing on the top of the cliff that led down to Warram Bay, leaning into the wind and going ‘wheeee’. I shook my head hard. ‘It will be lovely to see you,’ I said, quietly. I remembered that kiss in the café car park, that had promised… something. The touch of his fingers on my skin, the lines of his long body in that black coat. ‘Really lovely.’
‘Great! I’ll bring…’ But the line died into a crackling and then silence. I tidied the kitchen, wondering what he was bringing. It could be anything, from another bottle of WKD to his sister, which made me worry about whether I should tidy the whole cottage or just change the sheets on my bed. He wouldn’t bring Thea, would he? I mean, that kiss – there had been the weight of a whole life in that kiss. And also just the tiniest tickle of anticipation of pleasure in the press of his lips and the fingertip touch against my face. It had definitely not had an aura of ‘let me bring my sister’ about it.
15
I lay awake listening to the wind snaking through the branches of the trees lining the lane outside and the hiss and rush of the ford at the bottom. Occasional rain battered my window and sneaked in through the gaps in the sash that were letting enough of the gale through to wobble