Summer of Love (31 page)

‘Like Rory.’ Then, wishing she hadn’t said that, she got up. ‘I’ll find us some pudding.’

‘Hah! Bet you can’t!’

Fortunately, after this rash offer, she did have ice cream, and the makings of chocolate sauce. She toasted some flaked almonds briefly and then assembled everything in tumblers.

‘Ta da! Chocolate nut sundaes,’ she announced proudly when she brought them through.

‘Oh wow. My favourite.’ Gus took the glass and the spoon and inspected it. ‘No jelly?’

‘No. It would have taken hours to set. Be grateful for what you’ve got. And eat it before it all melts.’ It was rather like having an older version of Rory in the house. Father and son were frighteningly alike.

When she’d dug her own spoon carefully down the side of the glass so only a small amount spilt over the side she noticed her sketchbook on the table. ‘Oh, you’ve been nosing about.’

‘Yes,’ he replied, unabashed. ‘You’re really good! I mean you can draw and not just paint.’

She took a moment to consider a reply. ‘Well yes. Often one comes before the other. Although not always, not for everyone,’ she added, a stickler for accuracy.

‘Drawing always seems a black art to me. I just can’t do it. Anyone who can seems like a magician.’

‘We all have our different talents. I feel like that about maths.’ She picked up her sketchbook and flicked through it. ‘After all, you can write.’

‘Can I? Although my agent was very enthusiastic, I’ve got cold feet. I mean, writing about bushcraft is so different from doing it.’

‘But there’ll be photos? You said you had loads.’

‘Oh yes. The book will look pretty, lots of colour shots of beautiful sunsets and things, but the technical stuff –which is what I really want to get over to the reader – is going to be lost in my incompetent prose.’

‘Well, then you need line drawings!’

He looked at her. ‘I do!’

Too late she realised she might have volunteered for something. ‘And you’d like me to do them?’ She tried to hide her excitement at the prospect.

‘Well, if you’ve time. I know it probably seems a bit boring.’

‘Not at all! I think it’ll be stunning and I’d absolutely love to do the drawings for you!’ Suddenly it seemed silly to pretend she wasn’t keen.

‘I can’t pay you—’

‘Oh, honestly, Gus! You don’t need to worry about anything like that until you’ve sold the book and got some money yourself.’

‘I will try and repay you in kind.’

‘You’re so silly!’

Gus took offence. He left his chair and came and sat on the arm of hers with a terribly familiar look in his eyes. ‘You think I’m silly, do you?’

Sian got up. He was too near. She didn’t want him noticing that she was now breathing rather fast. But it was a mistake. He got up too and caught her. She found she could hardly speak. ‘Yes!’ It came out very breathily.

‘Well I think you’re silly too.’ Then he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her, long, hard and with a lot of attention to detail.

As they kissed, Sian’s defences melted. She was no longer a single mother, fighting for her independence, she was a woman, in the arms of a man she not only wanted but loved. She could finally admit to herself that she’d never stopped loving Gus, all these years, even though she’d tried to. When later he said, ‘Would you like …?’ Without any hesitation whatsoever she said ‘Yes,’ and led him upstairs to her bedroom.

All the chemistry they’d shared six years before was still there, made more intense for Sian because there’d been no one else since. The first time was fast, hot, passionate and somewhat lacking in finesse, but after that they took their time, exploring and rediscovering each other’s bodies.

‘That’s the first time I’ve felt properly a woman and not just a mother for ages.’

‘For how long?’

‘Nearly six years.’

He kissed her naked shoulder. ‘That’s very touching.’

‘I know.’ She didn’t tell him that he’d spoilt her for other men. Some things are best kept to oneself.

They woke slowly and late, both starving hungry. ‘There’s nothing to eat,’ said Sian. ‘No bread, anyway.’

‘What have you got?’

Sian lay back and tried to focus on food. ‘I’m got milk in the freezer. Things like flour, sugar. Jam. Marmite, peanut butter. All stuff that goes with toast, really.’

‘Eggs?’

She nodded. ‘But no bacon. Or tomatoes, mushrooms, or anything else you need for a cooked breakfast.’

‘Not at all. I’ll make pancakes, the fluffy kind,’ he said. ‘You go back to sleep.’

She didn’t think she would sleep but she plumped the pillows and snuggled up, feeling she just wanted to revel in what had gone on in the past few hours. The next thing she knew, she was waking up as Gus placed a tray on the bed. On it was a pile of pancakes, a cup full of golden syrup, the butter dish, and a couple of plates and knives.

‘I’m going to get the tea now,’ he said and disappeared downstairs. He seemed not to feel the chill and was quite happy wandering about in his boxers. She surveyed the feast before her. She could get used to this.

After they had taken a shower, together, they decided to go out for lunch. Wrapped in a towel in Gus’s case, and a dressing gown in Sian’s, they discussed where to go.

‘Not locally,’ said Gus. ‘Let’s make the most of the weather. It might be the last day of summer.’

‘And we’ve spent most of it in bed.’ Sian sighed happily.

‘Don’t look at me like that or I’ll take you straight back there,’ said Gus with a look that made Sian feel that wasn’t a bad option.

‘If there was a single thing left in the house to eat I’d take you up on that, but you need to keep your strength up.’

Having indicated that his strength was not at all diminished, he let her go and Sian was free to get dressed. While Gus went home for clean clothes she pulled on her jeans and a Breton-style stripy top. It was a casual outfit but she knew it suited her. Then she put on a careful amount of make-up: the kind that Gus would never notice but she knew would enhance her eyes and lips. Her skin didn’t need anything on it apart from a bit of moisturiser. She was glad she’d been so quick because Gus was back before she’d stuffed her feet into her sneakers.

‘So where do you want to go?’ he asked. ‘Stately home, theme park, garden centre?’

‘I don’t want to go anywhere with lots of people. Just take me somewhere nice.’

‘OK, I can do that. And do you want to buy a picnic? Light a fire, boil a billy? Or have lunch in a pub?’

‘Lunch in a pub,’ said Sian, hoping it wasn’t so completely the wrong answer that he would go right off her.

He laughed. ‘I even know where a good pub is. Come on!’

‘So where are we going?’ she asked after they’d been driving for a few minutes.

‘To my favourite spot. Remember, the woods I took you and Rory to. We’ll go in further than we did last time. There’s something I want to show you.’

‘Oh. How lovely. Maybe we should have brought a picnic.’

‘No, waste of time. We’ll have a bit of a walk, find the pub, have a bite of lunch, couple of beers and then go back for … a siesta.’

‘Oh yes. A siesta. Good idea!’

She spent the rest of the journey alternately looking out of the window and looking at Gus’s thigh. It was a happy time.

‘Here we are,’ said Gus, having driven a little way into the wood and parking up. They climbed out of the Land-Rover and Gus hooked his arm around Sian’s waist. She tried to keep pace with him, stride for stride, but after a couple of yards she had to stop.

‘It’s no good, my legs are just not long enough.’

‘Your legs are the perfect length. I’ll fit my stride to yours.’

Mention of legs reminded her. ‘So what about your injury? You never talk about it,’ she said.

He shrugged. ‘It’s a lot better now and mostly it’s OK. I wouldn’t want to trust it on a long expedition though.’ He looked at her. ‘My heart’s not in exploring any more – not the way it was.’

She looked up at him and smiled.

They walked through the woods and up a hill to a large clearing. ‘This is where I’d like to set up my bushcraft school, the one I was telling you about. It’s big enough for a few tents or yurts with a main camp in the middle.’

‘It is a lovely spot.’ She looked around her. It was magical, as if it hadn’t been touched in centuries, except to clear it of course. She doubted many people came up here.

‘Yes. It would be absolutely perfect if it had a stream running through it, but there is one not too far away,’ Gus said.

‘So what do you want to do most? Write a book or set up a business?’

‘You know? If you’d asked me a couple of months ago I’d have said the business, no question. But I have been cracking on with the book and the more I get into it, the more fun it is to do. I’ve nearly finished it. In fact I sent some of it to my agent and he loves it. He’s even got a publisher lined up.’

‘I’m so glad. I think it’s going to be wonderful. I’d love to read it – or part of it if you didn’t want me to see it all,’ she added hurriedly. ‘I know some authors don’t like to show anyone their work, not even their family or friends, until it’s published.’

‘You’ll have to see it if you’re going to illustrate it.’

They walked on in silence for a bit. Gus stopped suddenly. ‘Would you – would you come with me to the meeting? When I go to see the publishers?’

‘Why would you want me there? I don’t think it’s at all usual. After all it’s not a picture book for children.’

‘I know but …’ Words seemed to be failing him a bit.

‘What? Tell me!’ She turned to face him so she could get him to look at her.

‘I know it’s silly, you’re just a girl’ – he grinned quickly to make sure she knew he was joking – ‘but I’d feel more confident if you were there. I can do a lot of things, but one of the things I can’t do, apart from draw, is sell myself. With you there, I think maybe I could.’

Sian was touched but still wasn’t quite sure he really needed her to come. ‘You’ll have your agent. He’ll do that,’ she said.

‘Yes, but if the publishers don’t believe in me they won’t buy my book, will they?’

‘I suppose not. And if you want me there, of course I’ll come.’ She’d do anything to help Gus. And she knew how much harder it was to sell your own work than it was to sell someone else’s. If she could sell Jody’s cushions, she should be able to help sell Gus’s book. As they walked and Gus told her of the things he and his brother had got up to, Sian thought what an idyllic childhood it sounded. Was Rory’s childhood anything like as perfect?

‘Penny for them,’ demanded Gus, when she hadn’t spoken for a while.

‘I was just thinking what a wonderful childhood you had with your brother, roaming the woods and fields.’

‘It wasn’t all perfect, if you must know. When Mum married the wrong man it was awful for all of us. Worse for her, I think. She’d thought she’d done the best for us but it was the worst. He was a bully. But all this’ – he indicated the woods around them – ‘that made up for a lot.’

‘I want Rory to have that sort of childhood, where he doesn’t spend all day on a computer or hanging out on the streets. It’s one of the reasons we moved. He’d had a bad time in school in London. I had to take him out of it after a term. He just sort of shrivelled.’

‘He won’t shrivel here!’

‘I know, which is why I don’t want to move away. The school here seems so lovely. Jody, Annabelle’s mum, says it’s brilliant.’

‘Well, you won’t have to move away, far, anyway,’ said Gus firmly, ‘so he can still go to that school.’

Sian sighed. ‘Even if that’s true, even if one of the houses Mum found for me is OK …’ She stopped.

‘What?’ He was demanding but not impatient. He really seemed to want to know what was troubling her.

‘I feel this past summer has been an idyll that’s all going to end when Rory goes to school. It’s been so lovely here. The weather has been so perfect, your mother has been so welcoming. I feel settled here. I have friends, I have work, I live in a cottage I love. And on the first day of term it’s going to be measured for demolition and Rory starts school. It’s the end of everything, really.’

Gus’s arm came round her shoulders, heavy and reassuring. ‘No it’s not. Rory’s going to go on needing you for years and years. It’ll still be idyllic.’

He sounded so certain.

Chapter Twenty

‘Mum,’ said Rory, early one morning. It was the week before he was due to go to school and Sian had stopped sending him to the play scheme so they could have some quality time together. She also wanted to look at the houses her mother had found on the internet.

‘Yes, darling?’ They were having a leisurely breakfast, Sian very aware that such breakfasts would be confined to weekends very soon.

‘School won’t be like it was in London, will it?’

Rory’s foray into school in London had been traumatic for everyone. It was hard to decide who had suffered most, Rory who actually had to endure the huge school on a huge site with a less than sympathetic Reception teacher – one of several – or Sian and her parents who spent each day he was in it worrying and wondering how he was getting on, hoping they wouldn’t be walking a silent, sometimes weeping child home.