Page 3 of Coming Home to Roseford Villas
And as the person on the other side of the door raised her eyes from her phone, Leo was knocked sideways by the shock of recognition.
‘Aurora?’ he said, cursing the note of surprise in his tone. ‘Aurora Henderson?’
It was some compensation that the woman on the doorstep seemed as flummoxed as he was. He watched as her eyes widened, and a flash of colour warmed her pale cheeks.
‘It’s Rory Dean these days, actually,’ she replied, and Leo marvelled at how steady her voice seemed. And familiar. The kind of familiar that made something in his chest ache. Or maybe that was just hearing the change of name.
‘Come in.’ Leo gathered what was left of his wits and gestured through to the hallway. ‘What, er, what brings you to Roseford Villas?’
‘My Airbnb cottage got cancelled at the last minute,’ Aurora – Rory – replied as she walked through the door. ‘The company offered me the chalet in the garden here. It was a rate I couldn’t refuse.’ She paused in the hallway and her direct, green-eyed stare regarded him levelly. ‘What areyoudoing here?’
‘Looking after this place for my aunt and uncle while they’re on a European retirement tour.’ Leo, to his surprise, managed a grin. ‘Only for the summer, though. I’m taking a job in London in September.’
‘Oh. Right. So you’re not based in Aus any more then?’
‘Nope. I’ve come back to the UK, for this new job.’
‘And is that a permanent move?’ Rory asked, then, obviously embarrassed that she was prying, added, ‘Sorry, none of my business. It’s just a bit of a surprise to see you.’
That was an understatement and a half.‘It’s a surprise to see you, too,’ Leo replied. At a loss as to what else to say for now, he led Rory through the hall and out into the back garden. ‘The chalet is at the bottom. You can get to it via the garden gate at the back of the property if you don’t want to keep tramping through the house, or there’s a gate at the side of the driveway. Can I help you with your bags?’
‘Oh, I should be fine,’ Rory replied. ‘If you give me the key, I can get my stuff in.’
‘Sure.’ Leo fumbled in his pocket for the keys to the chalet, which he’d grabbed off the hook on the way through to answering the front door. ‘Here you go.’ As he passed her the keys, their fingers brushed. Leo felt the awakenings of something long forgotten in that brief touch. But it was probably just nostalgia.
‘Right, well, I’ll sort myself out,’ Rory said briskly, withdrawing her hand and turning to pick up the suitcase she’d wheeled through with her.
‘If you need anything, I’ll be in the main house,’ Leo said. ‘Just, er, holler.’
The ghost of a grin flashed across Rory’s face, and she suddenly looked a lot like she had all those years ago. ‘I’ll be sure to remember that.’
As Rory headed out down the slabbed path to the chalet that nestled at the bottom of Roseford Villa’s generous garden, Leo found himself starting to shake, and his breath begin to shorten. Of all the people in all the world to have rocked up at his door… the last person he’d ever expected to see again was Aurora Henderson. Only now, it seemed, it wasn’t her. It was, in fact, Rory Dean.
He wondered why she’d changed her name. Had she married? The booking hadn’t mentioned another guest, although the chalet slept two comfortably. Maybe a partner ora husband was coming down at a later date. The booking had been for six weeks, and that seemed an awfully long time to be holidaying on one’s own. He felt intrigued, but tried to use that fact, that she might not be spending time in the chalet by herself, as a way of grounding himself after the most unexpected meeting. Gradually, as his mind turned over the possibility, his breathing began to return to normal. Twenty years was a long time not to have seen someone, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t be a mature adult about it. Bumping into your first love on the doorstep of a bed and breakfast was strange, obviously, but they were both adults. He was sure they’d get over the oddness of it and things would be just fine.
4
In the movies, Rory thought, what had just happened would have been the point where the dramatic music kicked in and the slo-mo shots started. Time would stand still, and the camera would catch every single nuance of expression on the protagonists’ faces. Having taught Media Studies as well as English for the past few years, Rory knew exactly how the sceneshouldgo. But this was real. Thishadactually just happened. There, in front of her, had been Leo McKendrick.
Rory had been somewhat reassured to see that Leo was obviously as confused and nervous as she was. He clearly had no idea that it was her on the other end of the booking. But then she’d had no idea that he was going to be here, either. When Leo had confirmed that he was just helping out his aunt and uncle for the summer, somewhere, in the back of her mind, this made sense. She had the vivid recollection of Leo’s cunning plan, years ago, after his family had announced they were emigrating to Melbourne in Australia, that he would go to live with his aunt and uncle in the West Country. Back when it had all ended between them. Back when her heart had been smashed in two. Back when they’d hatched all kinds of plans for how they couldavoid what was, to them, a world-shattering separation. But in the end, none of it had worked. Teenagers, like they had been then, couldn’t call the shots, and they’d realised that, eventually.
Even after Leo had handed her the keys to the chalet, Rory still wasn’t sure if she wanted to stay. Being faced with the first person to have broken her heart, a large part of her wanted to grab her bags and run back to her car, hoof it back up the motorway and retreat to the safety of her room in York. But, rather to her own shock, she simply walked through the back door of the house, down the slabbed garden path and made a beeline for the accommodation.
As she walked, Rory tried to get a handle on her emotions. This was unexpected, but not insurmountable, she told herself. She could do this. She might not have come to Roseford to write a book in that genre, but wasn’t all of this straight out of a rom-com? For the life of her, though, at this moment, she was struggling to find the comedy.
She headed briskly down the garden path to the chalet, hoping against hope that it was going to be comfortable. She had hazy recollections of staying in such places on family holidays, and prayed that this one would be adequate for her needs. She’d seen some pictures on the phone, late last night, that had made it seem all right, but she’d judge for herself now.
As she unlocked the double-glazed doors and let herself in, she breathed a sigh of relief. It wasn’t plush, but it was clean and would be comfortable enough for the duration of her stay. A small kitchen and a space with a banquette bench and a table would be plenty for her, and the bedroom, off to one side, seemed cosy enough. All right, it wasn’t the heritage cosiness of Hyacinth Cottage, but it was a fair alternative for the price. Dumping her suitcase in the bedroom, she hurried back out to her car to grab the rest of her stuff. She didn’t go back through the house, but scuttled through the side gate. She wasn’t quiteup to bumping into Leo again before she’d had the chance to get her head around what being this close to him would really mean.
Rory let out a long, slightly shaky breath. How could she get through the next six weeks, knowing that Leo bloody McKendrick was in the big house at the other end of their garden? She’d known all along, from the moment the cancellation on Hyacinth Cottage had come through, that this couldn’t be the retreat she needed it to be: seeing Leo had just confirmed what a terrible decision it had been to try to make it work.
She’d come to Roseford to try to get some creative space: to tap into something she hadn’t allowed herself to think about in over twenty years. But in the weirdest possible ironic twist, she now found herself sharing ground with one of the people who’d caused her entire perspective to shift. Who’d given her the visceral heartbreak she knew the subject of her novel had suffered as well. She’d been prepared to mine her own experiences, via the materials she’d brought with her, but it was another matter entirely to come face to face with the boy – now a man – who’d broken her heart. That was too much ‘inspiration’ for her liking.
In an effort to ground herself, she decided to unpack. It didn’t take long. The chalet was small, and Rory got the feeling that if she got everything out, it would just end up looking cluttered. All the same, she couldn’t resist grabbing her research folder about the other key figure who had inspired her to begin writing her novel. There was so much to explore about them, and she couldn’t wait until Monday, when she was due to get into the Roseford Hall archives to read the diaries and correspondence that was stored there. She opened the folder and flipped the pages until she saw the hi-res image of the portrait that hung in the Long Gallery of Roseford Hall. She was hoping to see some more intimate family photos during herresearch, but this portrait had been her inspiration, her starting point. A young man in military uniform stared back out of the picture. Painted after his death, his expression had the wistful quality of a life not completely lived. As she studied it for what felt like the umpteenth time, she felt as though she was willing it to give up its secrets. What would she find when she dove into the archives? Would her suspicions be correct? The longer she looked into Edmund Treloar’s eyes, the more she hoped she’d be able to discover the story behind the sadness.
5
Rory? As in… short for Aurora? Oh. Shit.
