convenient for parking. But I can see why you like this—she goes like a dream,’ she said as he turned the corner onto the main road and the car began purring up the steep climb. ‘And at least she isn’t red, so not a total cliché! I’m glad that you kept the camper, though. I was always fond of the old girl. What?’ she asked as he slid her a sly smile.
‘I’m glad you’ve finally acknowledged that she’s a she—you’ll call her by her name next,’ he teased.
‘I will never call a twenty-year-old rusty van by such a ridiculous name—by any name. A car is not a person,’ she said with a haughty flick of her ponytail.
But Jonas could hear the laughter in her voice as he deftly swung the car round the corner and along the narrow lanes that led to the hotel, just two coves away.
‘Go on—say it,’ he coaxed her.
It had been a long time since he had seen Lawrie laugh. Judging by the wounded, defensive look in her eyes it was a long time since she had laughed.
‘I’ll help. Bar... Barb...’
‘No!’ But she was definitely trying not to laugh, and there was a dimple at the corner of her lush, full mouth. ‘What about this one? What have you named her?’
‘Nice escape, Ms Bennett. But I will get you to say her name before you leave.’
‘We’ll see.’
The words were dismissive but she still sounded amused. Jonas sneaked a glance at his passenger and saw her face was more relaxed, her posture less rigid.
‘So go on—surprise me. What’s she called?’
‘Ah,’ he said lightly. ‘This baby doesn’t have a name. It’d be disloyal to the camper.’
This time she did laugh—slightly croaky, as if she were unused to making the sound, but as deep and rich, as infectious as Jonas remembered.
‘We wouldn’t want to hurt the feelings of a rusting old van, would we?’
‘I assure her every day that I only bought this to spare her tired old axles, but I’m not sure she believes me.’
‘Nobody likes being replaced by a younger model.’
There was a dark undercurrent to her tone and he glanced at her sharply, but her face was as impassive as ever, the laughter gone as if it had never been, replaced by that cool mask she always put on.
It had been her coolness that had first attracted him—the innocent look on her face as she said the most outrageous things a stark contrast to the noisy beach bums he’d been surrounded by. It had been the unexpected moments when she’d opened up that had made him fall head over heels in love with her—the moments when her mask had dropped and she’d lit up with laughter, with indignation, with passion.
Dangerous memories. His hands tightened on the wheel as he navigated the narrow bends, the hedgerows high beside them as if they were driving through a dark, tree-lined tunnel.
‘I’m glad you’re driving. I’m not sure I’d find my way by road,’ Lawrie said conversationally, as if she were discussing the weather.
As beautifully mannered as ever, Jonas thought.
‘It’s been a long time since I’ve been to Coombe End. I can’t imagine it without your parents there—how are they?’
There were a million and one responses he could give to that. Jonas settled for the most polite. ‘Retired.’
Lawrie made an incredulous noise. ‘ Retired? Seriously? I didn’t think the word was even in their vocabulary.’
‘It wasn’t. It took a heart attack to make them even talk about it, and a second one to make them do it.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that. What are they doing now?’
Jonas’s mouth twisted wryly. Making sure he knew just how much they regretted it. Just how much it hurt to see their profligate son undo all their hard work. Not that any of that was Lawrie’s business. Not any more.
‘Living in a respectable villa, in a respectable village in Dorset, and taking an inordinate amount of cruises—which they mostly complain about, of course. Still, every retiree needs a hobby.’
Lawrie looked at him, concern in the deep
‘I’m glad you’ve finally acknowledged that she’s a she—you’ll call her by her name next,’ he teased.
‘I will never call a twenty-year-old rusty van by such a ridiculous name—by any name. A car is not a person,’ she said with a haughty flick of her ponytail.
But Jonas could hear the laughter in her voice as he deftly swung the car round the corner and along the narrow lanes that led to the hotel, just two coves away.
‘Go on—say it,’ he coaxed her.
It had been a long time since he had seen Lawrie laugh. Judging by the wounded, defensive look in her eyes it was a long time since she had laughed.
‘I’ll help. Bar... Barb...’
‘No!’ But she was definitely trying not to laugh, and there was a dimple at the corner of her lush, full mouth. ‘What about this one? What have you named her?’
‘Nice escape, Ms Bennett. But I will get you to say her name before you leave.’
‘We’ll see.’
The words were dismissive but she still sounded amused. Jonas sneaked a glance at his passenger and saw her face was more relaxed, her posture less rigid.
‘So go on—surprise me. What’s she called?’
‘Ah,’ he said lightly. ‘This baby doesn’t have a name. It’d be disloyal to the camper.’
This time she did laugh—slightly croaky, as if she were unused to making the sound, but as deep and rich, as infectious as Jonas remembered.
‘We wouldn’t want to hurt the feelings of a rusting old van, would we?’
‘I assure her every day that I only bought this to spare her tired old axles, but I’m not sure she believes me.’
‘Nobody likes being replaced by a younger model.’
There was a dark undercurrent to her tone and he glanced at her sharply, but her face was as impassive as ever, the laughter gone as if it had never been, replaced by that cool mask she always put on.
It had been her coolness that had first attracted him—the innocent look on her face as she said the most outrageous things a stark contrast to the noisy beach bums he’d been surrounded by. It had been the unexpected moments when she’d opened up that had made him fall head over heels in love with her—the moments when her mask had dropped and she’d lit up with laughter, with indignation, with passion.
Dangerous memories. His hands tightened on the wheel as he navigated the narrow bends, the hedgerows high beside them as if they were driving through a dark, tree-lined tunnel.
‘I’m glad you’re driving. I’m not sure I’d find my way by road,’ Lawrie said conversationally, as if she were discussing the weather.
As beautifully mannered as ever, Jonas thought.
‘It’s been a long time since I’ve been to Coombe End. I can’t imagine it without your parents there—how are they?’
There were a million and one responses he could give to that. Jonas settled for the most polite. ‘Retired.’
Lawrie made an incredulous noise. ‘ Retired? Seriously? I didn’t think the word was even in their vocabulary.’
‘It wasn’t. It took a heart attack to make them even talk about it, and a second one to make them do it.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that. What are they doing now?’
Jonas’s mouth twisted wryly. Making sure he knew just how much they regretted it. Just how much it hurt to see their profligate son undo all their hard work. Not that any of that was Lawrie’s business. Not any more.
‘Living in a respectable villa, in a respectable village in Dorset, and taking an inordinate amount of cruises—which they mostly complain about, of course. Still, every retiree needs a hobby.’
Lawrie looked at him, concern in the deep
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