‘Away?’ Cassie’s brows shot up as she stared at Fiona before she managed a laugh. Until this summer her life had been built around her family and her career, and she was still getting used to not working full time, her body adjusting to a new rhythm. ‘But I am away, I’m here. And I don’t need a rest. I’m fine.’
‘I disagree,’ Fiona replied in a tone that Cassie recognised. ‘Pippa’s already had a word with Jonny, and the house in Majorca is free. There’s a flight tomorrow and we made an executive decision and booked two seats.’
‘A flight? To Majorca? Why would I go there?’ She laughed again, because the suggestion was crazy and ridiculous and… ‘What do you mean, seats? Is Pippa coming with me?’
‘No, Raf is. Pippa rang him and he agrees the rest would be good for you.’
‘But he never said!’ Cassie’s chest felt tight, the pulse in her throat pounding. Her mind raced to the old Mediterranean house Pippa’s dad had owned since his children were young, where they’d all retreated over the years. How could she be there with Raf, swimming in the pool, lounging in the heat of the day and those long, still nights. He’d tried to speak with her earlier and she’d put him off, making some excuse about being busy with the lunch. ‘Absolutely not. Besides, there’s you and Gordon to consider. I’m supposed to be keeping an eye on you.’
‘No arguments.’ Fiona held up a hand. ‘Pippa and Gil will look after Flynn. Plus the last time I checked, Gordon and I were a pair of reasonably fit and capable sixty-somethings who are more in the habit of keeping an eye on other people rather than needing my delightful daughter-in-law to watch over us. So please go while you can, it will do you good. You can fly to Italy from Majorca just as easily as you can from here if you have to.’
‘Fiona, it’s…’ Cassie was wavering, searching for a reason to refute all arguments and anchor herself to this house, where it was easier to avoid Raf than in a sunlit villa high in the hills above the Majorcan coast. ‘I don’t know whether to laugh, cry or be cross. Don’t I get any say in this?’
‘It is, my darling, a done deal. I’ll even drive you to the airport myself. Now let’s have our coffee and then we’ll leave you to pack.’
The flight on Monday afternoon was uneventful, other than Cassie alternating between anxiety at Isla and Rory being away and spending the next five days alone in a villa with Raf. They would be flying back on Saturday, due to land a few hours before the children, and she’d already decided the weekend couldn’t come soon enough. Before they’d left she’d tried to persuade Pippa to abandon the plan as well, but her best friend was having none of it; she and Fiona had united against her. Only Cassie, and no doubt Raf, understood the next few days were likely to do nothing whatsoever for her wellbeing. She’d loathed saying goodbye to Flynn, promising she’d walk him again just as soon as she was home. Harriet had promised to send regular updates, but Cassie didn’t dare think about the end of the summer when she would have to leave him behind for good.
There hadn’t been time to buy any clothes suitable for a few days in the Med and have them delivered before they’d left. Almost everything she’d brought from home had been with a Yorkshire summer, not a Mediterranean one, in mind. She’d picked up a few things at the airport, focusing on reading by the pool all day and not stripping down to a swimsuit with Raf around.
A car was waiting when they retrieved their bags, and despite her reservations, outside she was transfixed by a cornflower-blue sky and the heat seeping into her body, staring at dry and rocky mountains dusted with green. Traffic and tourists were plentiful as they skirted the city and headed northwest towards a harbour town close to the villa. She was utterly conscious of Raf at her side, his suntanned legs bared by cargo shorts, the growing silence punctuated with casual comments as he pointed out local landmarks. He’d assured her he planned to work much as usual while they were away, continuing with his online training course. So at least he would have that to keep him busy.
She’d forgotten how dazzling the house was, and as the driver approached it, a pair of rustic wooden gates slid open. Nestled amongst evergreen hedges and colourful planting, stately olive trees bordered a gravel drive leading to a terracotta stone building, welcoming and warm, cream shutters framing every window above more olive trees in pots, dark green against hot-pink rock roses planted between them. High stone walls enclosed the boundaries, the hillside beyond dotted with trees and rocky crags. The heat hit her again as they got out of the cool interior of the car, and she turned her face up to the sun to enjoy it for a moment.
‘Ready to go inside? It’ll be cooler on the terrace.’ The driver had retrieved their bags, and Raf thanked him.
So this was it. They were alone here, with this incredible hideaway all to themselves, and she had no idea how she was going to manage for five days. And those sultry Mediterranean nights.
‘I’d love to.’ The nervous note in her reply suggested something other than the casual comment she’d been aiming for, and she cleared her throat.
Raf stood back so she could enter the cool white hallway, and her exclamation was one of pure pleasure. Oak and wicker furniture was rustic and simple, and she recognised two of Pippa’s paintings on the walls. A formal sitting room was to her right, with a pair of white sofas scattered with blue cushions. Ahead two glass doors opened onto the gleaming kitchen, a corridor to the left.
‘It’s so beautiful,’ she said, risking a glance at him. ‘I’d forgotten how much.’
‘Yeah. The bedrooms are along there.’ He pointed to the corridor, and Cassie couldn’t miss the brisk note in his voice. ‘You can have the master; there’s a private terrace and a path leading to the pool.’
‘Raf…’
‘Don’t even think about protesting.’ He shot her a smile as he put their bags down. ‘You came here for rest and relaxation, and it’s my job to see that you get it.’
‘Is that what Fiona and Pippa told you?’
‘No, I decided all by myself.’
‘But where do you usually sleep?’
‘Anywhere.’ He shrugged as they headed for the kitchen. ‘There are four bedrooms, usually we crash wherever we can. I’ll probably take the room upstairs; the rest are down here.’
At least that meant there would be a staircase between them. They hadn’t spent a night in such close proximity since Australia, and she couldn’t afford to think about that now. Their conversation on his birthday sat wedged between them. Cassie thought about it constantly, trying to balance her desire against the future. But she was a grown-up; she could do this.
‘Maybe you’d like a nap when I’ve shown you to your room?’
‘I’m not a toddler,’ she told him exasperatedly. ‘I can’t let myself get used to sleeping every afternoon. Wow, this isn’t how I remember the kitchen.’
‘No, Dad extended it after Phoebe and Freddie were born, and it had an upgrade last year.’
Oak cabinets and pale marble tops gleamed against more white walls, photos of the family over the years scattered in the spaces between. This home, away from Jonny’s life in the band, had been the children’s solace after they’d lost their mum. A home where they could just be a normal family and hold one another close.
Windows offered views of a glorious garden, with more lush planting amongst evergreen hedging and low stone walls framed by lavender. Raf went to the bi-fold doors, opening them wide onto the terrace and a pergola smothered in passion flowers, three sofas nestled beneath it. Beyond that stood a glass-topped dining table and eight chairs, the terrace bordered by another lavender hedge and tall agapanthus in terracotta pots, vivid blue against green. But it was the rectangular pool that captured her attention and had her rushing outdoors. Surrounded by neat lawns and wide stone paths, loungers sat on three sides of the pool beneath closed parasols.
