She loved how the dog nudged Raf’s thigh, and something clenched in her heart. Flynn might not have been here very long, but already he seemed to understand that Raf represented home. She hoped no disasters would befall them; she didn’t want Flynn to be returned to that stable. ‘So what else can I do?’
‘Sit down and let me make you a gin and tonic. I can promise you it’s the best, I know the brand.’ Raf winked as he found a highball glass and Cassie pulled out a chair. He added ice, a measured shot of gin and followed up with tonic and a slice of lime, watching as she took her first few sips. ‘Well? What do you think?’
‘Gorgeous. I haven’t had this one before when I’ve been to the pub. It tastes…’ She paused, thinking. ‘Spicier, and warming, like ginger.’
‘Good, that’s exactly what you’re supposed to get.’ He pulled out a seat opposite her. ‘There’s orange in there too, and all of the botanicals are foraged locally. Kenny’s looking to innovate, and we’re planning a pink peppercorn gin and a lavender one. Very few brands can afford to rest on their past achievements.’
‘Listen to you and all this corporate speak.’ She savoured another mouthful. She probably shouldn’t knock it back on an empty stomach, even if it had been a very long drive. Soon the alcohol began to hit her bloodstream, making her feel lightheaded. Lunch had been distinctly below average sandwiches in the services on the way up. ‘Who are you, and what have you done with the Raf Jones I know and love?’
‘Love?’ Suddenly the word was stuck in the space between them, and Cassie hurried to clarify as her face flamed.
‘Figure of speech,’ she blurted out. ‘Old friends, that kind of thing. You know what I mean. So does the house feel like home yet?’ She hastily redirected the conversation from such talk and the loaded look he’d given her. ‘Even though you’ve not been here that long?’
‘Weirdly, it kind of does. It feels welcoming and I like the history. You know me and London, but I haven’t spent much time there in a while, other than to see you.’
She remembered how he would turn up during a gap in tours and crash for a couple of days, entertaining the children, taking them out, making their lives just that little bit brighter, especially now, and a wave of gratitude for his kindness followed.
‘What you’re doing for us, Raf,’ she said quietly. ‘It’s so generous, and I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it. Rory and Isla were ecstatic at the thought of a summer in Hartfell.’
‘I want you to feel at home here, Cassie,’ he said, effortlessly holding her gaze. ‘It’s important to me that you do. All of you.’
Chapter Ten
Once Isla and Rory had loaded the dishwasher and finished the clearing up, they disappeared to their rooms, still energised by the change in surroundings. Harriet was coming over tomorrow, and Rory was seeing Jacob in the afternoon. Raf had unloaded the car while Cassie had been dozing in her room, and she thanked him, grateful she didn’t have to unpack the puzzle on her own. Their stuff seemed to be spilling everywhere already, and he waved away her apology as she hung coats in the boot room and stood wellies upside down on their pegs outside the back door.
The sitting room beckoned, but she didn’t want to be indoors on their first evening, not with the sun slowly sliding west across the sky, the sweet scent of mown hay drifting in through the open door. Tractors were still scuttling to and fro, gathering bales onto trailers and carting them away. She stepped onto the terrace, and the roses, in full and glorious bloom, hit her senses at once. Her eyes misted over with a pang of sorrow amongst the happiness, and she found a smile.
‘We miss you, Ewan,’ she whispered. ‘But we’re doing okay now. You’d be so proud of our children and how amazing they are.’
It felt like hello and goodbye all at once. Wishing he were here, knowing he never could be. Grief still shadowed their days sometimes, but it didn’t dominate in quite the way it once had. They were all finding ways to live with the loss, and slowly, little by little, they were healing. Cassie’s heart lifted as she watched swallows swoop and dive in the meadow, the bright flash of white against red throats and dark feathers. Birdsong was cheery, the solidity of this house and its history at her back comforting as she touched a pink rose, its petals soft against her fingertips. Moments like these were the reason she had begun her journals; she could hold on to this feeling, and she understood it would come again. Contentment and joy were allowed, and the sensation settled inside her.
‘It’s a perfect evening. Fancy a drink out here?’
‘Oh, hi!’ She whirled around to see Raf leaning against the door. Flynn wandered outside and she slid an arm across his back.
‘You look…’ His gaze searched her face. ‘Happy.’
‘I feel it, like a bubble finally bursting free. I think it’s being here, this view, Flynn finding a perfect home.’ Their smile was an understanding one, and she felt something loosen inside of her. She hadn’t dared include Raf in her pleasure, even though she’d wanted to. ‘But let me fetch the drinks, you’ve done enough.’
‘Tonight, you rest. I won’t be long.’
She wasn’t sure if Flynn would stay when Raf disappeared, but he followed her to the garden sofas clustered around a table and eased himself onto the grass with a grunt. Raf was back a few minutes later, with a tray he set on the table. She thanked him as she accepted another gin and tonic. A dry one this time, he explained, served with lemon and Indian tonic water.
‘I could get used to this,’ Cassie said wistfully. ‘Drinks on the terrace in the sunshine, a friendly dog at my feet.’
‘So get used to it, at least for the next six weeks. Give yourself permission to enjoy it.’ He leant back, one ankle crossed over the opposite knee, arm lying across the top of the sofa facing hers.
She’d loved him for a long time as a dear friend, and she was glad their boundaries were back in place because she couldn’t allow herself to think of him in any other way. She didn’t want to lose him in her life, or her children’s. He was a part of their family, and she wanted that role to remain the same, to keep him as close as any old friend could be. For Isla and Rory’s sake she needed things to be easy between them again.
‘Tomorrow it’s my turn to cook.’ She intended to focus on practical subjects. It was safer than allowing herself to fall into the way he was looking at her.
‘Well, we can talk about that,’ he replied, a smile playing around his beautiful mouth. She knew now what he could do with it; that was the problem. The thought had a wretched blush starting up on her cheeks.
‘Any plans?’
‘What?’ She quickly tried to recall his question.
‘Plans? For tomorrow?’
