Page 51 of The Love Letter

‘How many words is this article going to be?’ he asked her. ‘You’ve got enough for a whole bloody book! Let’s enjoy what’s left of the weekend.’

Joanna leant back in her seat and gazed out the window, savouring the views of the glittering white countryside. They drove through the small town of Blandford Forum, its streets lined by tall Georgian houses, and Marcus, with a wry grin, pointed out all the pubs he had been kicked out of as a teenager. He pulled up outside a small red-brick pub with a cheerful green front door. ‘This place does the best Sunday roast for miles around – with the biggest Yorkshire puddings you’ve ever seen.’

‘That’s a serious promise you’re making to a Yorkshire girl,’ she giggled. ‘I hope you can keep it.’

After a scrumptious lunch, complete with the crispy-yet-doughy Yorkshire puddings Marcus had promised plus lashings of gravy, Joanna dragged her companion to his feet.

‘Right! I need to walk off that lunch,’ she said. ‘Any suggestions?’

‘Yes, I’ll take you up to Hambledon Hill. Climb in, milady.’ Marcus opened the passenger door of the car for her.

They stepped out a few miles later, and Joanna looked up at the gentle rise of a tall hill. It was now three in the afternoon and the sun was just beginning to set, sending golden rays skipping over the snow-covered slope. It reminded her so much of home on the Yorkshire moors that she felt a lump in her throat.

‘I love this place,’ Marcus said, crooking his arm through hers. ‘I used to come up here a lot when I was staying with my grandfather during the holidays – I’d just sit on the top of the hill to have a think and get away from everything.’

They walked upwards, arm in arm, and Joanna revelled in how still and peaceful her mind felt here with Marcus, so far away from London. They stopped to sit down on a tree stump halfway up the hill, and admire the view.

‘What did you think about when you came up here?’ she asked him.

‘Oh, you know . . . boy stuff,’ he hedged.

‘I don’t know. Tell me,’ she encouraged him.

‘I thought about what I was going to do when I was older,’ he said, looking into the distance. ‘My mum . . . she really loved nature and was passionate about protecting it. She was what one might call an “eco warrior” and used to go on Greenpeace marches and lobby parliament. I just always wanted to do something that she’d be proud of, you know?’ He turned and looked at her, and she found herself captivated by his gaze. ‘Something important, something that mattered, I—’ He broke off, and kicked at the snow. ‘But since then, it’s all gone wrong, so I think she’d be disappointed.’

‘I don’t believe she would be,’ Joanna said eventually.

Marcus turned to her with a sad smile. ‘You don’t?’

She shook her head. ‘No. Mums always love their kids, no matter what. And the main thing is, you’ve tried. And your new film project really sounds worthwhile.’

‘It is,ifI can get the funding for it. To be honest, Jo, I really am crap with money. I’ve realised recently that I let my heart rule my head, jump in with both feet first because I’m excited by the idea, and never see the risks. I’m like that with relationships too . . . all or nothing, that’s me,’ he confessed. ‘Just like my mum was.’

‘There’s nothing wrong with being passionate, Marcus.’

‘There is when you’re using other people’s money to fund it . . . I’ve been thinking recently that if I get this new project off the ground, I’m going to shadow Ben MacIntyre, the director, as an assistant. Maybe I should concentrate on the “vision” in future, rather than the finances.’

‘Maybe you should,’ Joanna agreed.

‘Now, I’m freezing my knackers off, why don’t we head home?’

‘Soft southerners,’ she said in her broadest Yorkshire accent. ‘Can’t ’ack the cold!’

They returned to the relative warmth of Haycroft House, and while Marcus heaved the boxes back into the attic, Joanna tidied the kitchen.

‘All set?’ Marcus stood in the hall as she arrived downstairs, having collected her holdall.

‘Yes. Thanks for the weekend, Marcus. I’ve really enjoyed it. And I really don’t want to go back to London.’

Marcus returned the key to its hiding place before jumping behind the wheel next to her and starting the engine. Turning out of the drive, he caught a flash of the grey car he’d seen the day before, and Joanna followed his glance.

‘Who’s that? Nosy neighbours?’ she said.

‘Probably just some twitchers out to freeze their rocks off over some robins,’ he answered. ‘They were here yesterday too. Either that, or they’re going to nick all the valuables in the place.’

Joanna stiffened. ‘Don’t you think you ought to let the police know?’

‘Jo, I was joking!’ he said as they passed the parked car.