The other idea that had been unfurling in his brain was one that ran along the lines of how about if he were to completely change his mind about the cottage? Because if everything did work out as he very much hoped it would, maybe he needn't sell or rent it out after all. He could afford to keep it for his own use, make it his escape from the pressures of city life, his idyllic weekend retreat …
And now it was Saturday afternoon. Weaver's Cottage had been transformed and Coral was at this very moment on her way back from the airport.
Declan stood in the centre of the knocked-through kitchen-diner with its stunning room-length view over the valley and the rolling hills beyond. The kitchen units were white and the worktops dark green, the surfaces illuminated by pools of light from the spotlights strategically installed beneath the wall units. With its white floor, sleek silver accessories and accents of crimson, it was unrecognisable as the cluttered, unsanitary nicotine-stained kitchen that had belonged to Old Malcolm for almost seventy years.
He'd taken the call from Lily an hour ago. ‘Coral's on her way home. Are you going to be at the cottage this afternoon? Because I told her how much work you'd done and she can't wait to see how it's looking now. She said if your car's outside, she'll stop off and you can give her the grand tour.'
Whereupon Declan, who had actually planned to drive into Chipping Norton to get his chainsaw fixed, had casually replied, ‘Oh, I'll be here.'
Twenty minutes later, he heard the sound of a taxi pulling up outside the front gate. Unable to play it cool and wait for the doorbell to ring, Declan pulled open the door, waved to Coral and called out, ‘Hi!'
She was looking fantastic, bright-eyed and happy. Oh God, it was so good to see her again.
‘Hooray, hello! I'm longing to see everything you've done.' She jumped out of the taxi and greeted him with a hug before breaking away as the driver hauled her turquoise suitcase out of the back. ‘Oh thank you so much.' Extending the handle and taking charge of the case, Coral paid him before turning back to Declan. ‘Is this OK? Will you be able to give me a lift home after we've finished here?'
‘Of course. No problem. I could have picked you up from the airport,' said Declan. ‘It wouldn't have been any trouble.' Ha, talk about understatement; it would have been the very opposite of trouble.
‘Oh no no no.' Coral waved her free hand. ‘I won't let anyone do that. It's so mortifying when the flight's delayed and whoever it is ends up having to wait for hours to pick you up.'
‘So you get a taxi instead and the flight's never delayed.'
‘Exactly that.' She grinned at him. ‘Sod's law. Works like a charm every time.'
Declan took the case from her. ‘Come along then. Let's get inside.'
‘Can't wait,' said Coral. ‘I've been looking forward to this.'
Not as much as he had. Declan led the way into the cottage, his heart thudding with anticipation. He would show her everything that had been done first, get it out of the way, then tell her that his relationship with Gail was over. He'd pictured her reaction so many times … of course she would be surprised, then sympathetic … but there would also, with a bit of luck, be a glimmer of relief and hope in her eyes. And then he would confide in her the reason for his having ended it, and he'd witness the expression on her face, of disbelief mingling with growing joy and delight as she finally understood what he was-
‘Oh my goodness, look at this place, what a difference,' Coral exclaimed as she stepped into the kitchen-diner. ‘It's fantastic!'
While she was gazing around in wonder, Declan secretly gazed in wonder at her. She was wearing a pink and white striped shirt and her favourite jeans. Her tan had deepened, accentuating the clear blueness of her eyes, and her blond hair was fastened up at the sides with white clips, which revealed her slender neck. The idea of kissing that neck was-
‘So you listened to me, then.' Smiling, she swung round to him.
‘Sorry?' It was hard to stop thinking about her neck.
‘The splashes of red.' Coral pointed to the velvet cushions on the window seat, the blinds and the glossy wall tiles behind the sink. ‘I can't believe you remembered.'
Declan remembered every single word she'd ever uttered. On the day of the property auction, he'd been explaining to her that he normally redecorated in neutral colours and she'd said, ‘Oh, but don't you love a pop of colour? Something bright to liven things up? I just think it makes all the difference!'
‘I gave it a go,' he replied good-naturedly. ‘And you were right.'
‘You've done a great job. Seriously, I love it.' Coral was investigating the cupboards now, opening and closing drawers, admiring the spectacular view from the window. ‘I could live here myself.'
There were so many possible replies to that, but before he could even formulate one, she was off, disappearing into the living room to admire the light ivory decor (with accents of mulberry and plum). Then she ran upstairs and he showed her the bathroom, followed by the smaller spare room, and finally the main bedroom. In here the walls were sunny yellow, the carpet was thick and pale gold, and the fitted units were white. This time the accent of colour was supplied by the view from the windows, of the valley spread out below them.
‘You've done it,' Coral said simply. ‘It's just perfect.'
What Declan wanted to say was: So are you.
But it was too soon. Instead he nodded. ‘Thanks. It's turned out well. I'm happy.'
Coral was smiling up at him. ‘So you should be.'
Hopefully he was about to become happier. ‘Shall we go downstairs and have a coffee? I want to hear all about your holiday. Did you have a great time?'
‘Oh, the best. I'm so glad I went.' She moved past him, wafting unfamiliar perfume in her wake.
‘You smell different.' Declan couldn't help saying it as he followed her down the staircase.
‘I know, I bought it in a little shop in Saint-Tropez. Fancied a change. What do you think?'
‘Nice.' Was it nice? He wasn't so sure; it was heavier and spicier than the scent she'd always worn before. To change the subject, Declan said, ‘You're looking well.'
Because that was definitely true.
‘Thanks.' Back in the kitchen-diner, Coral occupied one of the crimson-cushioned stools around the central island while he switched on the coffee-maker. ‘I feel fantastic. Everyone there was so friendly. And I've got back into painting, can you believe it? It's like a miracle!'
‘Lily told me you had.' Declan smiled, because she was glowing with happiness and her joy was contagious. ‘I can't wait to see what you've done. And, you know … ' he indicated the walls around them, ‘if you did feel like donating one to a deserving cause, that'd be great.'
‘Well maybe. Then again, you haven't seen them yet.' Coral's eyes were sparkling. ‘Anyway, how's Gail?'
Talk about the perfect opener. Aware that the moment had arrived, Declan wiped his suddenly prickling palms on the sides of his trousers and opened his mouth to say, ‘Actually-'
‘Ooh, made me jump!' Coral pulled her phone out of her jeans pocket as it broke into what sounded like a load of inebriated jazz musicians at the end of a long night. This was new too. When she saw who was calling, she said, ‘Sorry, can I just answer this?'
‘Of course.' Declan opened the glass-fronted cupboard on the wall above the coffee machine and took down two stainless-steel cups and saucers. You knew you liked someone when you gave them a cup and a saucer.
‘Hi. Yes! Oh gosh, that was quick!' Coral swung her legs as she spoke to whoever was on the other end of the line. Was it Lily? Or one of the staff at the yard? Her eyes bright, she listened for a few more seconds, then said, ‘OK, well this is perfect. Just before you reach Stanton Langley, you'll pass the Valentine Hotel on the left-hand side of the road, then about five hundred metres further on there's a cottage with a dark green Audi parked outside. Declan's just been showing me everything he's done to the place … honestly, it's amazing. But yes, I'll look out for you. See you in a minute! Bye!'
Chapter 43
There was a slow, lurching sensation in Declan's stomach, like descending fifty storeys in a lift. The tone of her voice and the light in her eyes belatedly told him that he really didn't want to hear what was coming next.
Except he was going to have to hear it.
‘Don't worry about coffee.' Coral was already sliding down from her stool, reaching for her shoulder bag. ‘And no need to give me a lift into the village either. That was a friend of mine on the phone.'