Page 56 of A Recipe for Romance

Being incurably kind-hearted, Poppy phoned me to see how I was as soon as she got home, while waiting for the vet.

‘Raffy did remember we’d changed the Parish Council meeting to today, but he looked a bit pale and distracted…

but then, he is naturally pale, isn’t he?

’ she said. ‘And Holy Week is bound to be busy. But I was terrified he would catch my eye and then he would know that I knew what you two got up to in London!’

‘But you didn’t?’

‘No, thank goodness. And funnily enough, no one else mentioned about you two going off together overnight like that at all – isn’t that strange?’

‘Perhaps because they’re all gossiping like mad behind our backs instead?’ I suggested.

‘Well, perhaps,’ she agreed. ‘Anyway, the good news is that Mann-Drake has put Badger’s Bolt up for sale again – Conrad told me.

Only now the sluice gates up at the Winter’s End water gardens have been repaired, the water supply is dodgy, to say the least. Plus Mr Ormerod, the farmer next door, has put a gate across the lane at the road end.

He says it belongs to him and he can do what he likes with it. ’

‘That’s going to make the property really hard to sell, isn’t it?’

‘Very, and the lido field and tennis courts are now pretty worthless, so the money Effie Yatton had collected to buy them might be enough. Miss Winter is going to get her nephew, who is some kind of property developer, to put in an offer for them, because she says he’s good at getting bargain property.

In fact, I seem to remember there was a bit of a scandal a year or two ago, because one of those rogue dealer programmes caught him out on camera buying properties from elderly people at knockdown prices and then developing them at a huge profit. ’

‘Oh? Well, he should be able to get them for a song, then!’

‘Yes, everything is turning out really well, isn’t it and—’ she broke off. ‘Sorry, Chloe,’ she said contritely. ‘I forgot that things aren’t going too well for you.’

‘I’m all right,’ I said, more stoically than I felt.

I was now suddenly finding I could no more keep away from Raffy than Poppy could bear to be parted long from Felix. We were obviously both in a bad way, though at least there was hope for Poppy, because I could tell that Felix reciprocated the feeling, even if she couldn’t.

So, despite it being only a matter of hours since Raffy dropped me off at the cottage, I found myself slipping into the back of the church when he was saying evening prayers.

Luckily the door was left ajar so people could come and go silently, and I was sure he didn’t see me, because I hid behind the carved screen at the back.

It had a handy eye-level hole in the pattern, like a leper’s squint, which seemed appropriate: I think I might be a moral leper after sleeping with the vicar.

I sneaked out later when his back was turned, picking up a list of the Easter services on my way.

He was certainly going to be busy, starting with Holy Communion on Maundy Thursday evening.

On Good Friday there was an early family service, then a long mid-afternoon service – after which I expected he would go and say evening prayers as usual!

It all kept going pretty well non-stop until Sunday evening.

I hadn’t realised quite how energetic the clergy were, it was a real eye-opener.

I didn’t see where he would fit collecting the Easter eggs for the hunt into that schedule, so when it was starting to get dark, I put them in a big wicker basket and set out to deliver them…

And, OK, I admit that it was an excuse because I really just wanted to talk to him again, so there was clearly no hope for me.

Off I went along Angel Lane with my basket of goodies like Little Red Riding Hood, and up the back drive to the vicarage, past the newly revamped tennis courts. I didn’t want to risk another run-in with Maria Minchin, if I could help it.

You have to go up steps to the terrace at the back of the house and there was a light in the room that Raffy had taken me to when I delivered the chocolate angel.

Through the glass door I could see him, his head bent over a guitar, and hear him singing softly, but I’d actually lifted my hand to tap on the french door before I realised what the song was – ‘Darker Past Midnight’!

Tears suddenly welled and I was filled with an overwhelming sense of desolation at the futility of my rekindled love. My hand fell back down to my side and I took a quick step back into the darkness.

Then Arlo barked sharply, once, and the music stopped mid-chord. Raffy flung open the door.

‘Chloe, wait!’ he said urgently, and caught me in two long strides, drawing me back into the light and warmth of the room.

‘I…just brought you the Easter eggs,’ I said weakly, keeping my head bent. ‘I thought you might not have time to collect them.’

He took the basket and put it down on the nearest chair without letting go of my arm, as if afraid I might run out again into the night. Then he gently turned my face up to his and said softly, ‘What’s the matter?’

‘N-nothing, it’s just that song you were singing always made me cry, because the girl in it wasn’t me.’ I tried to smile. ‘Stupid, I know…and I haven’t done it for ages.’

‘But – it is about you,’ he said, looking astonished. ‘Of course it is! I wrote it when I thought I would never see you again. That whole Dead as My Love album is about you!’

‘Me?’ I laughed uncertainly. ‘No, I don’t think so!’

‘I can prove it. Look – sit there.’ He pushed me down onto the sofa and I watched as he went to a bookshelf that held a whole row of familiar, black-bound Moleskine notebooks, the sort he’d always used to jot his musical ideas down.

He pulled one out and flicked through the pages.

‘Here we are,’ he said, coming back over and sitting next to me. ‘Read that!’

It was the rough outline of ‘Darker Past Midnight’, with its haunting words of loss and regret – only here, in this early draft, it was called ‘Song for Chloe’ and dated soon after we’d parted, just as he’d said.

‘I called it “Song for Chloe” first, but since the pain of missing you always seemed worse after midnight, I changed it…and why are you crying again?’

‘Because it was me, after all!’ I choked.

And then we were in each other’s arms and he was saying, between long, slow, lingering kisses, ‘I love you now even more than I did then, if that’s possible!’

‘You do?’

‘Yes, of course. Wasn’t it obvious that I couldn’t resist you in London, despite my best intentions?’

‘No, I thought you just felt guilty about it. And I seduced you , if I remember rightly…though I hadn’t let myself admit I still loved you until then.’

He smiled down at me wickedly. ‘I was more than ready to be seduced!’ he said, then kissed me again, and we had a blissful cuddle on the sofa until he suddenly remembered that he hadn’t drawn the curtain over the French door.

‘It’s still early and occasionally Effie or someone else will walk up that way to see me.’

When he came back he put his arms around me again but said, ‘Just as well we cool off a bit anyway, since this is as far as we go until you marry me – and I think that had better be really soon!’

‘Isn’t that a bit old-fashioned, not to mention an extreme case of shutting the stable door after the horse has bolted?’ I asked, snuggling back up to him again.

‘Maybe, but it feels right. I want the whole, traditional church wedding, with you walking up the aisle and Poppy as bridesmaid, though I can’t somehow see your grandfather giving you away. Perhaps Jake will do it?’

‘But Raffy,’ I said, dismayed, ‘I told you that was impossible in London, given our situation! Can’t we just make the most of what we’ve got?’

‘Things have changed quite a bit, but it would still upset some of my parishioners if I lived in sin with you,’ he pointed out. ‘And anyway,’ his square jaw hardened stubbornly, ‘I want to marry you – and in church. We’re not going to have a hole-and-corner affair.’

As evidence of this, he firmly removed my hands, which I had slipped under his soft chambray shirt, but he kissed them before he let them go.

‘Your bishop really wouldn’t like me,’ I said with a sigh.

‘ I like you, that’s the main thing – and there’s the parable about the one lost sheep that was found,’ he reminded me. ‘Things have changed and I’m unlikely to be excommunicated for marrying the granddaughter of Gregory Warlock, though your grandfather might disown you.’

‘He might, though I’m never sure quite how Grumps will see things. He seems to quite like you.’

‘So long as he doesn’t try and insist on some kind of second pagan ceremony. That really might upset the bishop.’

‘There isn’t even going to be a first c eremony,’ I insisted. ‘It’s all impossible.’

‘I don’t feel anything is impossible any more. We’ll find a way around it. Come on, I’ll walk you back home.’ He got up and pulled me to my feet.

‘Are you sure? The village is probably buzzing with gossip about us going to London together already!’

‘Then a bit more won’t hurt, will it?’

Arlo, who had given up hope of the biscuits that often accompanied a visitor, was curled up asleep in the corner, but he woke when we got up and followed us out into the night, vaguely pleased at the idea of an extra walk.

‘I’ll come and help you with the Easter egg hunt on Sunday,’ I said as we crunched down the gravel, hand in hand.

‘And you could even come to one of the services?’ he suggested, adding with a smile, ‘I saw you at evening prayers.’

‘But I was behind the screen! How on earth did you know I was there?’

‘I always know when you’re around,’ he said simply. ‘Will you come?’

‘I’ll think about it,’ I promised.

As we turned into Angel Lane, he said, ‘By the way, Felix told me today that he was in love with Poppy, but he didn’t think she felt the same way about him and only saw him as a brother!’