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Authors: Kate Glanville

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BOOK: A Perfect Home
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‘What did you say in your text?' Claire asked.

‘I said that I missed you, that I wanted to see you, I asked you to meet me. If I'd seen you face to face I would have told you I'd spent months regretting what I said that afternoon at the hotel, I'd have begged you to leave William, begged you to come and live with me, you and the children, I had it all planned, I wanted us to find a house together with enough space for you to work, enough space for the kids, I didn't care where, anywhere that you were happy would have been enough for me.'

‘And you let William change you mind?'

‘He was your husband, Claire. I wanted to believe he made your life miserable but the way he talked sounded as though you'd sorted things out, that you were happy. He sounded as though he adored you. I remember picking up my copy of
Idyllic Homes
and thinking that perhaps it all really was as wonderful as we'd made it seem in the photographs, perhaps your life really was perfect and you'd never been serious about me.'

‘Oh Stefan, how could you have doubted I was serious, after everything I said to you.'

He put his head in his hands, ‘I know, now I can see how stupid I was to think that. I never would have dreamed that William would go on to do what he did that night. How could he have done that to his home, his family? I know I shouldn't have believed what he said on the phone, I should have come to find you, talked to you before I gave up hope.' He sat up and stared ahead of him as though remembering. ‘In fact I did try one more time, I sent another text from outside the Heathrow terminus but when you didn't answer I got on the plane.'

‘William destroyed my phone; he smashed it up and ground it into the floor. I never could have got that message.' She put her hand on his arm and kept it there. ‘Where did you go?'

‘I spent a few months in the States working for different magazines over there. Then I started just aimlessly travelling around the world, taking random pictures, having adventures that seemed pointless to be having alone but mostly trying to forget you.' He paused and looked straight at her and then laughed. ‘I wasn't very good at that, I'm afraid, but I started selling my pictures to travel publications instead of interiors magazines.'

‘Isn't that what you wanted?' Claire asked. ‘To be a travel photographer?'

‘Yes. It's funny the way things happen. Life can end up going the way you wanted it to but not necessarily by the most direct route, or the smoothest.'

‘I know what you mean,' she said.

‘I only came back to England yesterday morning.'

‘What brought you back?' Claire asked.

‘Oh, you know,' said Stefan, ‘frosty mornings.'

‘Marmite,' she said, with a small smile, remembering their long-ago conversation in the heat of a July afternoon.

‘And you,' he said.

‘Why now?'

‘I saw an article about you in a magazine. I was waiting in an airport lounge for a flight from New York to Tokyo and there was a rack of British magazines on a newsstand. I picked one up to pass the time, started to half-heartedly flick through it when suddenly there you were, smiling out at me surrounded by a completely different home from the one I thought you were happily living in with William. Your flat, the shop, I immediately recognised your taste – Sienna's pictures were really lovely. I skimmed through the article, it said you were divorced, it mentioned the fire though of course I needed Sally to put all that in to context, and it didn't seem to suggest any other men in your life, though now I do seem to remember there was a picture of a dog a lot like him.' He stroked Napoleon's head again. ‘I had to see you straight away. I nearly got arrested because I walked off with the magazine and forgot to pay; the newspaper vendor got me chased by a great big, gun-toting airport guard who didn't seem to understand I'd just rediscovered the love of my life. After I'd got out of that awkward situation I changed my flight from Tokyo to Heathrow and as soon as the plane landed set off to find your shop. I had flowers for you and everything. I was devastated when I met Sally and she told me you were away.' He laughed. ‘She's a feisty woman. She gave me quite a piece of her mind when I told her who I was.'

‘I can imagine,' Claire said with a small smile.

‘I explained everything to her, told her about the texts and William, told her how I feel about you, how important it was that I saw you, and before I knew it she'd agreed to bring me to you here.'

‘She'd use any excuse to get to a wedding,' Claire said, smiling.

‘On the way she told me everything that had happened to you. It's true what you said. I really did ruin your life.'

‘Maybe it's not really ruined,' she said. ‘Just changed. I'm much happier now than I ever was in that house with William and his endless home improvements.'

‘If I had known, Claire, if I had known about the fire, about your divorce, I would have come to find you long ago. I wish I'd known, I wish you'd never had to go through all that on your own.'

‘Things haven't worked out so badly for me after all.'

‘What about us?' he asked.

Claire didn't reply. Stefan reached into the pocket of his shirt and brought out a length of silver chain interspersed with small pearl buttons. Claire remained silent as she stared at the familiar necklace.

‘I've kept it with me wherever I've gone. I've always wanted to give it back to you one day.' He reached out and took her hand and let the chain coil into her palm. He gently closed her fingers over it, let go of her hand and sat back in his seat. Claire looked straight ahead at the shifting shadows of the lantern-lit drive. She noticed pale pink roses scrambling over a trellis in front of them. According to her grandmother pale pink roses meant perfect happiness to come. She turned to Stefan.

‘I vowed I'd never get involved with anyone again. I'm used to being on my own, and I've got the children to think of and …' Her voice trailed off. She looked into his soft brown eyes and found it hard to look away.

‘We could take it very slowly,' he said, looking back at her. She had to fight an urge to touch his face. ‘Just one day at a time. We could make a lovely home together.'

‘Please don't say it could be perfect,' said Claire. She thought she saw a glimpse of Sally and her mother peeping round the corner of the house. Stefan was gradually moving towards her.

‘OK,' he said. ‘It definitely won't be perfect.' And he leant across the red leather seat and gently kissed her lips.

END

Heartstones

by

Kitty Glanville

Kate Glanville's debut novel Heartstones explores love, loss and secrets in the rural coastal setting of Ireland.

Heartstones is a novel about secrets. Set in contemporary Ireland the story is intertwined with one set in 1940's. In both past and present it seems that everybody has something to hide. When Phoebe's married lover dies in a car accident she dare not openly express her grief for fear of their affair being found out. Heart broken she leaves her life in England to search out the old boathouse bequeathed to her by her Irish grandmother. Enthralled by the stunning scenery of the West Coast of Ireland she soon finds herself swept up by life in the nearby village of Carraigmore.

When she discovers a collection of her grandmother's old diaries hidden beneath the boat house floorboards she becomes immersed in a story of family scandal, repressed sexuality and a passionate affair between her grandmother and a young Irish artist. As Phoebe tries to piece together the truth about her grandmother's past she begins to realise that the repercussions of what happened all those years before have shaped not only her own life but the lives of those in the small community around her.

With many questions unanswered Phoebe sets out to find out more but it seems that no one in Carraigmore is quite telling her the truth.

For more information about
Kitty Glanville

and other
Accent Press
titles

please visit

www.accentpress.co.uk

Published by Accent Press Ltd 2014

ISBN 9781783755509

Copyright © Kate Glanville 2014

The right of Kate Glanville to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

The story contained within this book is a work of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the author's imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, electrostatic, magnetic tape, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the written permission of the publishers: Accent Press Ltd, Ty Cynon House, Navigation Park, Abercynon, CF45 4SN

BOOK: A Perfect Home
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