AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Oh, Harriet, you shouldn’t have,” Diana exclaimed as Harriet handed her a freshly baked loaf, wrapped in a tea towel. “But I’m very glad you did. How is the baking going?”
“Slowly,” Harriet admitted, “but it’s coming along.”
Diana glanced at Rachel, smiling. “Has your sister told you all about her baking endeavours? Very clever of her. Everyone is talking about her cookies.”
“I’ve heard a little,” Rachel replied, hating how awkward she seemed, not knowing what was going on with her own family. “But I hope Harriet tells me more.” She tried to smile at her sister, but she looked away.
“Ah, here’s Ben,” Diana said as she set the loaf on the table, and Ben ambled into the kitchen, clearly fresh from a shower. His hair was spiky and damp and he smelled of aftershave—the same one he’d always used, an old-fashioned scent of bay rum. Twelve years later and it still made Rachel’s heart skip a beat. She looked away from the sight of him, afraid she was already blushing. Good gracious, what waswrongwith her? She really shouldn’t have trawled through all those memories this afternoon, torturing herself with their painful poignancy.
It had been like taking out a photo album from the deep recess of her mind, letting herself linger over each snap, so now she was filled with nostalgia and a sense that those days were a lot closer than they actually were. She needed to get over herself, Rachel thought crossly, before acknowledging the person she really needed to get over was Ben.
Except shehad, eons ago. She really, really had.
“Supper will be ready in a few minutes,” Diana said as she opened the door of the Aga and peered in. “Cottage pie—just needs to bubble a bit more, I think. Ben, why don’t you get everyone drinks and we can go into the sitting room for a bit? There’s a fire—I thought it was getting a bit nippy out.”
Ben glanced from her dad to Harriet to Rachel, his gaze seeming to linger on hers a beat longer than necessary. She’d spent far too long choosing her outfit for this evening, and finally settled on a pair of smart black cigarette trousers, and a red turtleneck sweater in soft cashmere. London clothes, and too dressy for a kitchen supper in a Yorkshire farmhouse, but they’d felt a little bit like armour, and she knew she needed that. She needed to create a distance between herself and Ben in her own mind, because memory had blurred that space far too much.
“Rachel?” Ben asked. “What can I get you?”
“A glass of water, please,” she replied, and suppressed the urge to clear her throat.
“Oh, come on, now,” Diana interjected, smiling. “We’re celebrating, aren’t we?”
“Are we?” Harriet interjected, sounding surprised, and Diana wagged a playful finger at them all.
“Yes, we are! Your sister’s home. Families together. Of course we’re celebrating.”
Harriet’s mouth pursed rather sourly but she didn’t object. Rachel tried not to cringe, because she was pretty sure her family wasnotcelebrating her being home.
“All right, then,” Ben said easily. “What can I get you, Rachel? A can of Kopparberg?” She blinked because that was what she’d been drinking at the disco all those years ago. Why on earth was he mentioning it now? Was she imagining that teasing, knowing glint in his eyes?
“Open a bottle of wine, you silly boy,” Diana said, and Ben’s mouth quirked up at one corner as his laughing gaze met Rachel’s for a beat longer before he turned away to fetch a dusty bottle from the rack by the boot bench.
Rachel had an urge to press her hands to her cheeks, which she feared were flaming. She had not expected that flirty little encounter…if that was even what it had been. She felt as if she’d dropped down a rabbit hole into a land of memories and wished-for scenarios from her teenaged years…the nights she’d spent lying on her bed, dreaming about Ben Mackey! Thank goodness he would never know. Even when they’d been dating, ever so briefly, she’d never told him how long and hard she’d crushed on him. And she certainly wasn’t about to now.
Ben opened a bottle of red with a smiling flourish and poured both her and Harriet glasses, while their father opted for his usual lager. As they headed into the sitting room, Rachel risked a glance at Harriet, who had relaxed a little, and thankfully wasn’t looking so sour. Had she completely got the wrong end of the stick, thinking something might be going on between her and Ben? They seemed comfortable enough, chatting about the farm, but she didn’t get the sense of any lingering looks or secretive, knowing glances. Not after the way Ben had looked at her…excepthadhe looked at her that way? Or had she been imagining it all, some unfortunate wishful thinking?
Rachel felt as if she were seventeen again, and it was not a particularly nice feeling. She sipped her wine and let Harriet and Ben keep up the chat, too uncertain and confused to contribute much at all. She was glad when Diana took the cottage pie out of the Aga and called them all to the table, and she went to sit at the far end, away from Ben’s usual seat, except after she’d sat down, he moved around to sit next to her, close enough that his thigh nudged hers as he settled into his seat.
What on earth was going on?
Diana doled out the pie and then started to engage Harriet in conversation about her bakery business while their dad methodically ploughed his way through a hefty portion of cottage pie. Ben turned to Rachel as she toyed with a forkful of pie, wondering why on earth she felt so nervous. So alive.
“So, how does it feel to be back home?” he asked, low enough that no one else could hear, so their conversation felt private.
“Strange,” Rachel admitted. She found she couldn’t quite look at him. “It makes me realise how long it’s been.”
“Twelve years, since you’ve been back for any length of time.” For once it didn’t sound accusatory.
Rachel risked a glance towards him, surprised to realise how close he was, his head bent towards hers to hear her better. She could see the golden glints of stubble on his jaw, and when she breathed in the scent of his aftershave, she felt dizzy.Oh, help,she thought.Help, help, help, I can’t react this way.
“Have you been keeping count?” she asked and was glad her voice came out light.
“What if I have?” Ben replied, and Rachel felt jolted, as if she’d missed the last step in a staircase—or put her finger in an electric socket.
What wasthatsupposed to mean? And how was she meant to respond to it? Having no idea what to say, Rachel shoved a forkful of cottage pie into her mouth. She saw Ben’s tiny smile from the corner of her eye, and she wondered if he was messing with her for his own amusement. What else, really, could be going on? She knew he didn’t like her like that anymore. Maybe he never had, since he hadn’t tried very hard—or even at all—to make her stay.
Fortunately, Diana brought them both into the conversation then, telling Rachel about a ceilidh in Mathering next week.
