A Summer to Remember (28 page)
‘Oh, he’s still a Labradoodle and can be a bit of a wild child when he wants to be.’
‘Can’t we all?’ Justin said, his eyes twinkling. ‘And how are you?’
‘Good,’ she said. ‘You?’ She cringed at the awkwardness of the conversation. It was strange; she felt like she knew this man but realised that there was so much about him that she didn’t know. It felt like a long time since she’d last seen him.
‘Yes, pretty good,’ he said. ‘And how’s the novel coming along?’
‘Really well. I don’t think it’ll be long until it’s finished.’
‘Wow!’ Justin said. ‘That’s pretty impressive.’
Nina nodded. ‘I never thought I’d get the chance to be involved in something so exciting,’ she said. ‘I got so used to working in that awful office with the boss from hell, and I kind of just imagined the rest of my life would be like that with no hope of reprieve!’
‘And then you found this place.’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘It’s so special to me. I’ve really been made welcome here and I feel—’ she paused. ‘I feel as if I’m beginning to find myself. Olivia and Dudley have trusted me with so much and have given me the space and time to do things my way. They’re very special people.’
‘Yes,’ Justin said. ‘They are.’
Suddenly, Nina got excited. ‘Why don’t you come back to the mill and say hello to them? I’m sure they’d love to see you.’
‘No, no,’ he said. ‘Another time. It’s getting late now.’
Nina looked at the last streaks of light in the sky and nodded. ‘I suppose I should be getting back, otherwise I won’t be able to see where I’m going.’
Justin nodded. ‘That’s what I miss most about the countryside – the all-enveloping darkness.’
‘You miss that?’
‘Why yes!’ he said.
Nina laughed. ‘It seems like a strange thing to miss.’
‘Not at all. Not when you have street lamps, neon signs and security lights all battling to keep you awake at night. I really miss the comforting depths of the countryside’s darkness.’
‘Well, I don’t want to be scrambling about in this night’s particular darkness,’ Nina said.
‘Let me walk you back,’ Justin said, whistling for Bess who soon joined them.
‘But then you’ll have to walk home in the dark,’ Nina pointed out.
‘Yes, but I like it and I’m used to it. And I also have a torch.’
‘Ah!’ Nina said as they walked along the riverside footpath with the stars high above them.
‘Nina,’ he said after a moment. ‘Have you thought about what you’re going to do after the summer?’
She sighed. ‘I’ve been half-heartedly looking out for other jobs – I was kind of hoping that Dudley would have said something by now about keeping me on, but he hasn’t. He’s mentioned starting another book, but I don’t know how serious he is about it and if he even needs me for it.’
‘What will you do?’
‘Brood a lot!’ Nina said with a laugh that only went some way towards masking her insecurity. ‘Look for another Milton family?’ she suggested.
‘That won’t be easy to find,’ he said.
‘I know,’ she said.
They’d reached the bridge and the sound of the rushing water filled their ears.
‘You’d better head back,’ she said, bending to stroke Bess.
He nodded. ‘I wish I— I wish we had longer,’ he said. ‘I always seem to be rushing back to London.’
Nina gave a little smile. ‘Yes,’ she said and then he did something that took her completely by surprise – he bent forward and kissed her cheek.
‘Good night,’ he said and turned to leave before she had the chance to say anything, leaving Nina to watch his tall figure become engulfed in the darkness of the Norfolk countryside.
She turned and walked across the bridge. ‘Did that really happen?’ she asked Ziggy, but Ziggy didn’t have time to concern himself about kisses. He wanted some supper, and pulled at the lead in order to reach the front door faster.
‘Is that you, Nina?’ Dudley shouted from the study as Nina closed the front door behind her and unclipped Ziggy’s lead.
‘Hello,’ she said, joining him in the study. ‘You okay?’
‘My pipe!’ he complained, searching his desk like a madman. ‘Nina! Have you seen it?’
She shook her head. ‘No,’ she said. ‘I’m afraid not.’
Dudley charged out of the room to frantically search elsewhere when Nina’s phone beeped. It was a text from Justin.
Really sorry not to have more time with you. J x.
Not to worry,
Nina texted back.
Dudley’s in the middle of a pipe crisis. Can’t find it!
She pressed send.
Try the bowl on the dresser
Justin replied.
Without thinking, Nina walked through to the kitchen and, sure enough, there was the lost pipe in the bowl on the old oak dresser.
‘Dudley?’ she cried down the hallway. ‘I’ve found your pipe.’
He charged down the hall towards her. ‘What on
earth
is it doing there?’ he asked in bemusement, picking up the pipe and shaking his head in despair as if somebody had played an awful trick on him.
Nina looked down at her phone and typed the following message to Justin.
How on earth did you know where it was?
But there was no reply from him.
‘Whatever happened to that lovely young lady your mother was always talking about?’ Edna Bowridge asked, the necessity to talk after a whole hour of silence proving too much for her. ‘Now what was her name? I’ve quite forgotten.’
Dominic pressed his lips together and pretended not to hear as he got on with the portrait that seemed to be taking him an absolute age.
‘Kate, was it? No. May? No. That wasn’t it either. Oh dear, my memory’s fading like a photograph in the sun. Don’t grow old, Dominic.’
‘I’ll try not to,’ Dominic grinned.
‘FAYE!’ she shouted suddenly, making Dominic jump. ‘Am I right?’
Dominic nodded.
‘Whatever happened to her?’
‘We broke up.’ Dominic heard his own voice but barely recognised it. It sounded hard and cold and he didn’t like it.
‘Oh.’ For a moment, Edna was quiet once more. ‘Well, that’s a shame, I must say. Your mother always liked Faye.’
‘She still does, Mrs Bowridge.’
‘But you don’t see her anymore?’
‘Well, I see her all the time,’ Dominic said. ‘She’s never away from the mill.’
‘Oh? What, you mean you’re still friends?’
‘Er, no – not exactly.’
Edna’s eyebrows rose a fraction. ‘Then she’s seeing Alex?’
Dominic almost dropped his paintbrush.
‘Sorry, dear. I must let you concentrate.’
Dominic took a deep breath. ‘I’m almost finished.’
Edna nodded. ‘I’m afraid not, Dominic. As far as romantic complications are concerned, you’ve only just begun.’
Dominic couldn’t help dwelling on Edna’s words as he walked the short distance from the mill to The Folly later that afternoon. It was a week after his first painting session with Faye and he’d since spent hours looking at the image he’d painted. It was really coming along, and Faye hadn’t been quite such a fidget during their second session together.
Catching his first glimpse of his beloved folly as he turned the corner, he thought about those last two hours they’d spent together. She’d arrived with her dark hair scraped back after a day’s gardening and her cheeks had been flushed.
‘Faye!’ Dominic had cried. ‘Your colouring’s way too high. We’ll have to let it calm down before we can begin. And do something with your hair. You can’t have it up like that.’
She’d nodded and apologised profusely, saying she’d lost track of time whilst staking Olivia’s roses.
‘They’re looking glorious right now,’ she’d told him. ‘You must come and see them. There’s this fabulous pink one called “The Ingenious Mr Fairchild”. Isn’t that a brilliant name?’
Dominic had nodded and said something vague whilst Faye had babbled on about other roses with equally bizarre names. Then he’d remembered that she always babbled when she was nervous. The first time he’d brought her home to the mill, she’d chattered her way through the whole of dinner. It was a wonder that she’d managed to eat anything at all because she’d filled the room with her inane prattle until Olivia had gently placed her hand on hers and calmed her down.
‘I’ve never really been obsessed with roses until I came to the mill,’ she’d continued, ‘but they really are the most terrific—’
‘Faye!’ Dominic had said.
‘Yes?’
Dominic didn’t say anything, only held her gaze for a moment.
‘Oh,’ she said at last. ‘I’m babbling, aren’t I?’
He’d given the tiniest of nods and then watched as she let her hair loose, allowing it to fall about her face in dark waves. For a moment he’d felt utterly lost, as if he’d spiralled back in time to the day when he’d first seen her do that during a trip to the Broads.
They’d been walking through Wroxham and had stopped on the bridge, peering down at the boats below. The sun had come out and a light breeze had tickled their faces, and Faye had reached around and untied her hair, letting it blow around her face.
‘Dominic?’ she’d said. ‘Is this all right?’
He’d been jolted back into the present, the vision of the teenage Faye being replaced by the real-life one before him.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Sit down.’
He’d painted for just over two hours, with a break in the middle in which she drank coffee and he’d paced around, staring at the floorboards and absent-mindedly sorting through tubes of paint.
‘Are you okay? You look tired,’ she told him, when she sat back down.
‘Do I?’ he’d said, surprised by her attention. He wasn’t used to somebody caring about him in that way anymore.
She’d nodded. ‘You shouldn’t work so hard,’ she’d said. ‘I bet you’re pushing yourself with this upcoming show as well as all these portraits your mum’s set up for you. You should take things easier.’
‘I’m fine,’ he’d told her, suddenly realising that his eyes were actually quite sore.
‘I could come over some time and make you a meal,’ she’d said.
‘I don’t need you to mother me, Faye,’ he’d said, biting his tongue as he realised how blunt he’d sounded. She’d only been trying to help, after all. He’d looked at her pale moonshiny face. ‘Sorry,’ he’d said.
‘It’s okay,’ she’d said and he’d felt absolutely wretched. Why was he always so mean to Faye? And why was she so sweet in spite of that meanness?
‘Let’s just get this session done,’ he’d said, distancing himself from her further by placing himself behind the canvas.
When Faye had left later that evening, he’d stared at himself in the studio mirror.
‘What’s happening to you?’ he’d asked his reflection. ‘Why are you behaving like this?’
The face that stared back at him was pale and blank, like one of his unpainted canvases and, as he stared into his dark eyes, one word formed itself slowly but surely on his lips.
‘Faye.’
It was a gloriously sunny morning at the beginning of August and Nina’s desk was covered with the morning mail. She was just in the process of opening it whilst Dudley was out at the city library when she realised she’d made a mistake. One of the envelopes had been addressed to Mr D. Milton and Nina had assumed it was to Dudley but, on opening it, she saw that it was actually addressed to Dominic.
To read or not to read – that was the question. Seeing that it was from a gallery in London, Nina hesitated for a moment, but her curiosity soon got the better of her.
Dear Mr Milton,
it began
. Thank you for your letter and for coming to visit us last week.
Nina blinked. Dominic had kept very quiet about going to London, hadn’t he?
It was a pleasure to view your work and, although we were unable to take your paintings for this autumn’s group exhibition, we would be keen to exhibit your work in our spring show.
She gasped. Dominic was going to exhibit at a gallery in London and, judging by the address, it was a pretty good one, too. This was big news, she thought, and he’d no doubt want to hear it straight away.
‘Olivia!’ she called, leaving her desk with the letter hastily stuffed back into its envelope. ‘I’m just popping to The Folly. I’ve got a letter for Dominic.’
‘Okay!’ Olivia called back from the kitchen where she was elbow deep in jam-making. ‘Tell him to get himself over here for a decent meal. He doesn’t look as if he’s eating enough by half.’
Nina smiled. Always the mother, she thought.
It felt funny leaving the mill without Ziggy in tow, but she’d walk him later. Right now, she had to get to The Folly as quickly as possible. A London gallery, she thought, wondering what Dominic would think about it all. It had been hard not to blurt the news to Olivia, but it was Dominic’s news – not hers.
This could really change things for him. Perhaps he’d want to move to London, Nina thought, her legs slicing through the long grass along the footpath. How would Olivia feel if that happened? There was a special bond between her and Dominic and it would break Olivia’s heart if her youngest left for the big city. Billy was already there and Alex came and went like a whirling dervish. Sure, they popped by for the occasional weekend or Sunday lunch, but it was never the same as living nearby, was it?
Then again, Nina really couldn’t imagine Dominic living anywhere near the capital. It might well suit Billy and Alex, but Dominic’s home was in the gentle Norfolk countryside. Then there was The Folly. He’d poured himself into converting the place and it was very unlikely that he’d ever be able to afford a four-storey Victorian folly within the M25.
Nina gazed up at the mellow red-bricked home as she turned the corner. It rose up out of the trees like something out of a poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson. No, she thought. Dominic wouldn’t be leaving here for a good while yet.
There was no answer when she rang the old-fashioned bell that Dominic had hung up outside the large wooden front door. She waited a moment, realising that it would take a good while for someone on the top floor to reach the ground floor, but she was still waiting a couple of minutes and two more bell pulls later. There was no letterbox; all of Dominic’s mail went to the mill. Nina took a couple of steps back and gazed up into the air at the windows high above her.
