Page 84 of The Allotment on Willow Tree Lane

Fresh tears leaked out of the corners of his eyes, dampening his hair as they trickled down his temples. He couldn’t rid himself of the sight of her face, the anguish on it and the desperation, and he had an awful feeling her heart had been breaking as much as his.

Had he been too hasty?

He hadn’t allowed her to explain, to tell her side of the story, and although it was logical to assume she had been the one to divulge that he was living in Foxmore, he clearly hadn’t thought it through. After all, Ceri hadn’t taken that photo of the pair of them kissing the day of the opening ceremony. Someone else had, and he had an image of the teenagers sneaking into his garden.

He needed to speak to Sadie. She was the one person who he could trust to give it to him straight.

‘Thank God! I’ve been worried sick. We all have. Where are you?’ she cried.

‘North Wales somewhere. On a beach.’ He rubbed a weary hand across his face. He had been driving for hours and was exhausted. ‘I think I’ve been an idiot.’

‘What have you done?’

‘I accused Ceri of selling me out.’

‘You didwhat?Oh, Damon, you prat.’

‘I know. It was a knee-jerk reaction. I wasn’t thinking.’ He gazed out to sea, his eyes resting on the sparkling water.

‘No shit. You need to apologise big time. Of course she didn’t sell you out. Why would she do that? Anyone with half a brain can see she’s head over heels in love with you. You plonker.’

‘You only met her once, and that was for less than five minutes.’

‘So? I have highly tuned female intuition. Stop messing about on that beach, go tell her you got it wrong and beg her to forgive you.’

‘What if she doesn’t?’

‘Damon, you daft sod, haven’t you listened to a word I’ve been saying? She. Loves. You. There, I’ve spelt it out for you.’

Scrambling to his feet, he dusted the sand off his jeans and straightened his shoulders. She was right – he had to at least try. ‘Wish me luck?’

Sadie’s laughter followed him back to the car as she said, ‘You’re not going to need it.’

He hoped she was right. Because he didn’t know how he could face the future without Ceri by his side.

Huw’s couch was the most uncomfortable thing Ceri had ever slept on in her life, she decided, as she turned over yet again. It didn’t help that it wasn’t only her weary limbs that were aching. Her heart was, too. It hurt so badly that she didn’t think she would recover. It was in pieces. Little itty-bitty ones that would take a miracle to put back together.

All she could think about was the look on Damon’s face as he got in his car and drove out of her life forever.

Disgust, pain, disbelief, betrayal…

Huw had wordlessly shown her what was being splashed over the internet, and when she’d read it for herself, she had been horrified. No wonder Damon thought she was responsible.

Portia and Eleanor had a lot to answer for. They should be ashamed of themselves. It wasn’t justherprivacy they had invaded – they had also invaded Damon’s. And their actions had destroyed her life. The only man she would ever love had walked out of it, and she didn’t know how she was going to live without him.

Tossing and turning, Ceri thumped the pillow and stuffed it under her head at a different angle, before giving up. It was no good – she wasn’t going to get to sleep. How could she when there were daggers in her chest, stabbing her in the heart?

Rowena had loaned her a pair of pyjamas, and Ceri took them off, got dressed in her own clothes, then silently unlocked the door and slipped out into the night.

The village was quiet, the streets deserted. There was no one hanging around the green, and she guessed it was unlikely anyone would still be outside her house. Reporters might be back in the morning, but for now, she was safe.

However, she didn’t head to her little cottage. Instead, she opened the lychgate and stole into the graveyard.

There was someone she wanted to talk to.

The rumble of a car on the lane made her freeze and she held her breath, but it drove on past, and she heard it stop briefly at the junction before pulling out onto the high street, the sound of the engine fading.

Breathing again, she walked softly towards Hyacinth’s final resting place and sank to her knees in the grass. The hyacinths Damon had planted were still there, but their leaves were almost dead and soon they would be gone completely.

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