Page 39 of The Diary at the Last House Before the Sea

‘You OK, babe?’ he asked, still heavy on top of her.

‘I just feel a bit awkward. It’s very public around here. I thought we were meeting up for a picnic and a chat. I didn’t realise that…you know.’

Bartie stared at her for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he rolled onto his back and put his hands behind his head.

‘Sorry, Clara. I didn’t mean to get so carried away but I can’t help feeling that there’s something special between us. Maybe there was years ago as well, but we were both too young to recognise that we could be good together. I suggest we resume this, er…chat’ – he smiled – ‘in a more private place in the very near future. I’m going to be around for a while, until the sale of the manor house is underway.’

‘OK,’ said Clara, pulling down her T-shirt and swallowing hard. Now the kiss was over, excitement was giving way to awkwardness. ‘Do you think your developer contact will want to buy the manor?’

Bartie brushed his fringe from his hot forehead. ‘I expect so. It’s an amazing opportunity for a top-class development in a beautiful, secluded location, and I know this developer will offer above the odds for it.’

‘Will the developer just focus on the house? They won’t build in the grounds, will they?’

‘No, absolutely not. I’ve made it very clear to the developer that the grounds are out of bounds and need to be preserved. That’s one of Geoffrey’s sale stipulations.’

‘I’m not surprised because he loves his gardens, and it would break his heart if they were destroyed.’ A thought suddenly struck Clara. ‘Once the development of the manor house is finished, I know the grounds will be private property but do you think the developer might give us permission to hold the charity fete in the grounds every year?’

‘That is a definite possibility.’ Bartie suddenly sat up straight. ‘Actually, I’ve just had a brilliant idea. There’s no reason why your cottage should have to be demolished if the grounds are being preserved, and it’s far enough away from the manor that I can’t see it would matter if you and your mum stayed there.’

‘Really?’ Clara felt her heart speeding up. ‘That would be amazing. My mum would be so happy to stay in the house because it holds so many happy memories for her. And also, there’s the whole being homeless and having to find somewhere else thing.’

‘Of course.’ Bartie gave her a bright, white smile. ‘No promises, but I’ll do what I can, for your mum but mostly for you.’

‘Thank you. I’d be so grateful.’

‘Yeah.’ Bartie leaned forward again and kissed her briefly on the lips. ‘And now I’ve got to go.’

‘I thought we were going to discuss this year’s fete.’

‘I’d love to, but there’s a lot to do before the developer arrives, especially if I need to twist their arm about your cottage. That’s OK, isn’t it?’

‘Of course,’ said Clara, feeling it would be ungrateful in the extreme to complain when he’d just promised to try and save her home.

When he reached across her, to grab a bottle of water, Clara spotted River at the far side of the green. He’d come after all.

She raised her hand, to beckon him over, but gasped when cold water sploshed over her legs.

‘Sorry,’ said Bartie, picking up the large bottle which had fallen onto its side. ‘I hadn’t put the top back on properly. Who are you waving at?’

Clara squinted into the distance but River was nowhere to be seen.

‘No one. I thought I saw River but I must have been wrong.’

‘Never mind. He probably got tied up on another call to his girlfriend. Will you be all right here on your own?’ he asked, getting to his feet and brushing the creases out of his chinos.

‘Of course.’

‘’Til the next time, babe, when I look forward to us being in a more private location.’

Bartie cupped her warm cheek in his hand before sauntering off across the grass.

Clara watched him go before lying back on the picnic rug and staring at the sky. Bartie had just kissed her and called her babe – twice. She laughed out loud, imagining her expression at fifteen if she’d known then what was going to happen in the future. She also pictured River’s adolescent face and him miming sticking two fingers down his throat at what he would deem Bartie’s cheesy chat-up lines.

There had been no chat at all before River had taken her by surprise and kissed her as they’d sat by the stream in the darkness.

Clara huffed out loud, cross with herself for thinking of River when he hadn’t even bothered to turn up for the picnic. She would think of Bartie instead, she decided, closing her eyes against the glare of the sun. Bartie, who had kissed her and who was doing his best to save the cottage that she and her mum called home.

18

---