Page 35 of My Summer of Magic Moments

She’d even been invited to speak on local radio. She hadn’t figured quite how nerve-wracking that would be: when the red light went on for ‘live’ she’d had a brief moment of panic and thought her voice wasn’t going to work. She was used to being the one doing the interviewing, not the one being interviewed. Luckily her professional instincts kicked in – this was an amazing publicity opportunity and the chance to reach even more people with her feature, and it was actually quite an honour to be asked. The radio presenter soon put her at ease, and they chatted about the inspiration for the idea, a little about her past, the cancer, the way forward. Claire wanted the audience to know that it wasn’t about money or the big things people thought they might need to make them happy, but the everyday things we could all have and enjoy, and find that little bit of magic in.

The snowballing success also meant that big boss Dave was going to let her carry the feature on for a few more weeks at least, and it kept Dragon Julia off her case too. In fact, Julia had popped across to Claire’s desk with a magic moment of her own, which was when they’d found out they’d won the North-East Newspaper of the Year award last November and she could put a new frock down to expenses for the ceremony – little did Dave know she was planning on Vivienne Westwood.

Though all the professional buzz was great, Claire was also aware that she’d soon have to find and fund a place of her own and all the bills too. She’d need to keep her eye out for some extra freelance work to boost her income. The North-East’s lifestyle magazine had shown some interest in the past, so she’d write something up, maybe on places to stay or dine in the area – that would be a nice thing to research – and target them once more. There was plenty to keep her busy.

And in just over two weeks, she was going back to her cottage by the sea. She hoped it would still seem as special; that she hadn’t gone home with rose-tinted spectacles. She didn’t want to find there was no magic there after all.

She could see Bamburgh Castle rising up ahead of her, all pink stone and powerful. Little flutters of excitement skipped inside her, making her hands twitch on the steering wheel. Then she was passing cream-coloured stone cottages, the butcher’s, Lynda’s deli – she gave a mental wave – the village green with its tall trees, tourists strolling the pavements, no doubt deciding whether to have tea in the pub, the hotel or the Copper Kettle tea rooms. There was the cricket pitch in its stunning location right below the towering castle walls, and then she was on the coastal road, skirting the low dunes for a further mile or so.

Would he be there? She couldn’t stop herself thinking about him now she was so close. It wouldn’t really matter, she told herself. She’d come back for the place, the sea air, those wonderful views. But in a corner of her mind, she hoped. Glutton for punishment or what! False hope and false starts, she chided herself.

In fact, would he think her a bit stalkerish, turning up again? But one awkward moment shouldn’t stop her coming back to a place she loved, surely. If he was here, she could just keep out of his way. Keep a low profile.

And there it was, the driveway entrance to the two cottages. It seemed odd arriving in her own car – not such an isolated feeling this time. She made the turn, instinctively scanning the parking area by the bigger cottage. No black 4x4. No Ed. Ah well, there was never any guarantee that he would be here. So she could just enjoy a proper man-free chill-out at her cranky seaside escape. That was just fine, and much less complicated, to be honest.

She emptied the car, carrying in her suitcase and a box of provisions; this was so much better than coming on the train. This time she had wine – rosé and white – coffee, tea and, as she’d kept her baking hobby going back home, there were freshly made rolls and a quiche Lorraine, as well as bacon, some cheddar, fruit, a large bag of Kettle crisps and some fizzy water. She was set up nicely, though she’d still have to make a trip to the deli for a few local treats and to catch up on all the news with Lynda.

She checked the cupboard in the kitchen to make sure the water heater was on; hopefully it would behave itself this weekend. Then she made up her bed with fresh linen from home. It felt quite cosy. Right – she grabbed her latest read, a glass of rosé, and set herself up in a chair in the patch of garden. The sky was turquoise, with just a few puffy clouds, and the sun was playing fair today, warm on her face even though it was late afternoon. Bliss.

She had just closed her eyes with the book propped in her lap when a crunch of gravel from the driveway disturbed her.

Could it be? But he might not be the only one who stayed there; he might well have let the place out to friends. There was no point getting excited over nothing. In fact, she shouldn’t be feeling excited anyway. It was all a bit of a disaster last time. She opened one eye, scanned next door, but there was no sign of anyone. Whoever it was had gone quietly inside.

Oh well. She was determined to stay relaxed and enjoy her chill-out time. She was going to keep a low profile, she reminded herself. But she could always get up early tomorrow and see if there was a small pile of clothes on the beach, or even better beat him to it and catch the whole strip-down. It would be worth setting her alarm for that! She grinned to herself. Hmm. She’d forgive him his running away and everything for just one more glimpse of his naked body. To see those firm, peachy buttocks jogging down to the sea. She closed her eyes and lay back in the chair, felt the warmth of the sun on her face and allowed herself to dwell on that image a little longer.

‘Hey … hi.’ A soft Scottish lilt. Her heart lurched. Dream a little dream, or what. She opened one eye. It was! She must have a guardian angel hanging around somewhere after all.

‘Well … hi.’ She drifted back to being sixteen and all of a flutter in an instant, especially with those thoughts still dancing in her head.

‘You’re back,’ he continued.

Well, pretty obvious, that. But hey, at least he seemed pleased to see her and had actually come across to say hello.

‘Yep, it’s me.’ What a stupid response, but her voice seemed to be working without her brain.

‘Well, great, good … Nice to see you.’

‘You too.’ She managed a smile. Probably a goofy one, if the racing of her heart was anything to go by. Come on, Claire, you’re thirty, not thirteen, she scolded herself.

‘Okay, well, I’ll see you about.’ He turned to go back to his house.

‘Yes, see you about.’

She couldn’t help the silly grin that spread wide across her face.

She was in the kitchen an hour or so later, putting together a supper of quiche and salad, when there was a knock at the cottage door. She supposed it might be Mr Hedley checking on the place or something. Though he hadn’t appeared the whole time on her last visit. She headed for the hall. The door was solid wood, no glass, so there was no clue as to who it might be. She opened it.

‘Hey.’ Tall, dark-blond, handsome Ed.

‘Hi.’ She sounded coy, she realized.

He was holding a book out to her.

‘What’s this?’

‘Just a little something I picked up for you.’

She was curious, scanned the front cover. Ooh, the latest baking bible from Paul Hollywood.