Page 91 of The Village Inn of Secret Dream

‘Don’t cry,’ he told her. ‘I get it now. This is your home. And mine too. We won’t let it go without a fight.’

She gave him a teary smile and nodded her head.

Pete smiled back at her, suddenly unable to tear his eyes away from hers.

He had known her for so long, but had he ever really looked at her before? Up so close, where he could see the length of her dark eyelashes and the fleck of gold amongst the brown of her eyes.

She took his breath away.

He’d held her at arm’s length for so many years, but now she was everywhere in his life and he was having to hold himself back for her sake, not his. Because all he wanted to really do was kiss her. And keep kissing her.

In that moment, he knew that she was so much more than a friend.

But he had just begun to lean forward to kiss her when they were suddenly interrupted by Del appearing beside the bench.

‘My sister’s beside herself with excitement,’ he said, giving Pete a nudge with his elbow. ‘Budge up, will ya?’

So Pete shuffled along whilst Del chatted away about his family and Brad. But all Pete could think about was the fact that his leg was now pressed up hard against Belle’s.

And how he wished that they were alone right now, as the snow began to fall.

49

The snow flurries over the week had become heavier and heavier as the days had passed until the village was in danger of becoming cut off due to impassable roads.

‘We haven’t had snow like this for years,’ said Belle, looking out of the front window of the inn.

Outside, only the river and clear sky remained a different colour from white. The paths and roads, trees and riverbanks were all laden with snow and along by the riverside various snowmen had been built.

The temperatures had remained below zero and the forecasters were predicting that there wouldn’t be a thawing for at least a week.

‘Something about the jet stream,’ said Pete, coming to stand next to her. ‘It means that the cold air from the Arctic is sweeping over the whole country, along with a whole heap of snow.’

The snow had quietened down the village as people had mainly stayed indoors out of the bitingly cold wind. Cars were barely visible under a foot of snow. Only a few hardy souls were wrapped up and walking alongside the river towards the shop.

Belle turned back to look at the lounge. At least the fires were all lit and, along with the excellent new boiler and windows, the heat from the radiators was staying inside and it felt cosy and draught-free.

But that still left the problem of the restaurant décor.

Belle stood at the entrance to the restaurant with Pete.

‘So we need to change this,’ she said.

Pete turned to face her. ‘What’s wrong with it?’ he asked.

‘It’s bleak,’ she told him, simply. ‘It might look cool and trendy under the glare of hot sun outside, but this is the English countryside on a dark and cloudy day. It just looks wrong.’

He sighed. ‘Any ideas on how we can fix it as cheaply as possible?’ he asked.

‘Let’s start at the top,’ she began, looking up at the ceiling. ‘The lighting is way too harsh. It’s bright and unflattering. It makes it seem colder in here. We need warmth and softness. So see if you can change the downlighters to a warm white instead of bright and glaring. And maybe a dimmer switch so we can adjust it accordingly.’

He nodded. ‘Okay. That doesn’t sound too dramatic. Or expensive.’

‘And on the tables we should have some tea lights,’ she carried on. ‘Candlelight is soft and romantic. It’ll help with the atmosphere.’

‘If you insist,’ said Pete.

‘And a few fairy lights wouldn’t go amiss.’ She took a deep breath. ‘And now for the tables and chairs,’ she began.