Don't Want To Miss A Thing (22 page)

But she had, and three hours later was still here. Frankie had opened a bottle of wine and they’d sat at the kitchen table, relaxing and chatting without interruption. At first they’d talked about the café, the fans who continued to visit Briarwood, and the phenomenon that had been
Next to You
. Then a question from Hope about Frankie’s husband had brought
that
story tumbling out.

‘How absolutely awful for you.’ Hope shook her head in
sympathy. ‘And you’re being so brave. I would never have known . . . and you were so cheerful with those other customers in the café. It just goes to show. While I was watching you I thought you didn’t have a care in the world.’

‘I’m just keeping myself busy.’ Frankie opened a second bottle and topped up their glasses. ‘It helps. Well, that and the drinking.’ Wryly she added, ‘But rotten things happen to all of us, sooner or later. I’m just busying my way through it.’

‘You’re so brave. Maybe that’s where I went wrong.’ Tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, Hope glanced across the table as if making the decision to trust her. ‘When it happened to me I ran away and did nothing at all. Probably the worst thing I could have done.’

‘Where did you go?’

‘A tiny village in southern Italy. Right off the beaten track, the kind of place the tourists don’t visit. I hardly spoke any Italian. Nobody there spoke English. Which was what I wanted at the time, but it meant there weren’t any distractions. All I had were my own thoughts, going round and round on an endless loop in my head.’

‘How long did you stay there?’ said Frankie.

‘I never left.’ Hope shrugged. ‘I’ve lived there ever since. Bought a little place of my own after renting a room for the first year. Took in a few stray animals, got to know the villagers, learned the language. It’s a beautiful place, up in the mountains. A good way of life.’ Ruefully she added, ‘I ran away and never came back. Until now.’

‘That’s understandable,’ said Frankie. ‘After losing William. Such a terrible thing to happen.’

Hope ran an index finger around the rim of her glass and said, ‘I was the mad cat lady for the first couple of years. The villagers must have wondered what kind of nutcase they’d got themselves landed with. But I sorted myself out eventually.’

Frankie smiled. ‘Good.’

‘And I met my husband,’ Hope went on.

‘You got married? Wonderful!’

‘His name was Giuseppe. He was a good man, a farmer. Kind, hardworking, steady. I don’t think I loved him, but he loved me. And I liked him very much. We were company for each other. I made him happy. No children, just our animals and each other. He died two years ago.’

‘Oh no.’ Frankie’s heart went out to her. ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Life is unfair. So now you’ve been through it twice.’

There was that look again, from Hope. She was hesitating, weighing something up in her mind, wondering whether or not to come out with it.

‘Look,’ Frankie said hurriedly, ‘we’ve had a few drinks. I don’t want you to say anything you might regret. The last thing you want to do is wake up tomorrow morning in a cold sweat, wishing you’d kept your mouth shut.’

‘But—’

‘It would just make you feel terrible, really it would. And then I’d feel terrible too. Come on, let’s change the subject.’

‘God, you’re so
lovely
,’ Hope exclaimed. ‘Is it just me or does everyone meet you and instantly feel as if they want to tell you all their secrets?’

‘It does seem to happen,’ Frankie admitted. ‘I think it’s my face. I do have this kind of agony aunt reputation around here.’

‘I’m not surprised.’

Frankie grimaced. ‘Not that it works with everyone. My husband spent eighteen years keeping a pretty big secret from me. Which makes it all extra humiliating.’

‘OK, I’m just going to say it. I wasn’t in love with William
Kingscott,’ said Hope. ‘I liked him as a person. We had this amazing on-screen chemistry, that’s how the rumours about us started. And he developed a crush on me, but nothing ever happened. We were just great friends. The trouble was, the more we denied there was anything romantic going on between us, the more everyone thought we were lying, covering up this amazing love affair. I was upset when he died, of course I was, but I wasn’t utterly devastated.’

Frowning, Frankie puzzled over this. ‘But you disappeared, went to live in Italy . . . you
were
devastated . . . oh, OK.’ The unspoken sorrow in Hope’s eyes, combined with her own intuition, caused the clouds to clear. ‘I see, I get it now. You were devastated, but not by William’s death.’ She paused, gazed at her and said slowly, ‘It was someone else.’

‘You’re good.’ Hope dipped her head in wry acknowledgement. ‘Yes, that’s right. Phew, this feels a bit weird, actually. I’ve never told anyone before. Well, apart from my cats.’

‘And they were Italian cats,’ said Frankie, ‘so they wouldn’t have understood.’

‘Exactly.’ A brief smile. ‘Sometimes the language barrier has its uses.’

‘So who was it? One of the other actors from the show? Oh listen to me, here I go again.’ Frankie flapped her hand by way of apology. ‘Not my business, don’t tell me.’

‘It’s OK, I want to now. No, he wasn’t one of the actors. Nothing to do with the production,’ said Hope. ‘He was a wonderful man, the love of my life.’ Her eyes softened. ‘But there could never be any future for us. It wasn’t possible.’

‘Why not? Was he married?’ Frankie’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Oh my God, was it
my
husband?’

They both burst out laughing at the same time. Hope spluttered wine into her sleeve and rocked back in her chair.

‘Ha ha, wouldn’t
that
be a soap-opera twist? No, it wasn’t Joe. And he wasn’t married. There was . . . another reason we couldn’t be together. The last time I saw him was just after we’d finished filming the final episode of
Next To You
. I felt as if my life was over. I’d already decided to disappear when the accident happened and William was killed. So that was it; as soon as the funeral was over, I was gone.’

‘And what happened to . . . the other one?’

‘Who knows? Never saw him again. Never likely to. He wasn’t, shall we say, the type to hang around.’

‘But you met him while you were filming? So does that mean he was from around here?’

Hope said simply, ‘Yes.’

Wow
. ‘And is he still?’

She shook her head.

Frankie’s thoughts were racing. ‘Well, I was here then. Would I have known him?’

‘I don’t know. Possibly. Probably.’

‘It’s none of my business. You don’t have to tell me. Maybe it’s better that I don’t know.’

‘His name was Stefan,’ said Hope.

‘Oh my God. Really?’ Frankie’s mouth fell open. ‘Stefan the gypsy? Stefan Stokes?’

Two spots of bright colour glowed on Hope’s face. ‘So you do remember him.’

‘I do. I mean, I don’t have to remember him. He’s still here.’

It was Hope’s turn to be shocked.

‘He is? But . . . I went into the woods.’ Her hands were trembling. ‘The caravan . . . there’s nothing there any more. It was all gone, the pathway completely overgrown. He always told me he could never stay in the same place . . .’

‘He never could.’ For years Stefan had moved around the country, sometimes joining his extended family of Romany travellers, at other times preferring to be alone. ‘Until his daughter had a daughter of her own,’ Frankie explained, ‘and decided to put down roots. He came back eight years ago and this time he stayed.’

Hope said breathlessly, ‘Is he . . . well?’

‘Very well. The caravan’s moved,’ said Frankie. ‘When the Hanham-Howards bought Finch Hall they offered him a pitch on their land in exchange for keeping an eye on the grounds. Oh wow, this is amazing,’ she exclaimed. ‘It’s like something out of a film! And he’s still single. I could take you over there now!’

‘No, no . . . it’s no good, there’s no point, that would just make things worse.’ Her hand pressed to her chest, Hope said, ‘He’s a Romany, that’s why we could never be together in the first place. His family would never have accepted him marrying an outsider. Oh crikey, I can’t stop
shaking
.’ She held her fingers outstretched. ‘I came back, but I didn’t expect this. I really didn’t expect him to be here.’

‘It’s good news,’ said Frankie. ‘Wouldn’t you like to see him again?’

Hope’s eyes glistened as she considered the question. Finally she said, ‘Is he still as handsome as ever?’

How old was Stefan? He had to be sixty. But yes, there was no getting away from it, tall and tanned, with those flashing dark eyes and sculpted cheekbones, Stefan Stokes would always be handsome.

Frankie nodded. ‘Yes.’

Her smile sad, Hope visibly deflated. ‘Of course he is. And look at me.’

‘Why? I don’t know what you mean.’

‘Oh come on, I’m not blind, I do occasionally see my reflection in the mirror. When I can’t avoid it,’ Hope said with resignation. ‘I know what I used to look like.’

‘But—’

‘That was then and this is now. Some people age well and I’m not one of them. Trust me, I’d be such a disappointment to Stefan. And I’d find that hard to bear.’ Finishing her drink, Hope checked her watch and pushed back her chair. ‘Anyway, time I was going. It’s been lovely to see you again, and thank you so much for . . . well, everything. But I have to be off now.’

She was like a terrified gazelle. Discovering that Stefan was in the vicinity had completely unnerved her; now she couldn’t get away fast enough. Frankie waited while she called the taxi company and asked to be collected and taken back to Cheltenham, where she was booked into a hotel.

‘It’s been wonderful to see you too,’ she told Hope.

‘Please don’t tell anyone I was here. I mean it,’ Hope begged her. ‘Not a soul.’

‘I won’t, I promise. You’re still
you
, though.’ Frankie couldn’t help herself, she had to give it one last try. ‘I honestly don’t think Stefan would be disappointed.’

‘But I can’t afford to take that risk. I just couldn’t bear it.’ They were at the door now. Hope was still trembling at the thought that Stefan could be nearby.

‘You can wait in the house until the taxi arrives,’ Frankie offered.

‘No, it’s OK, I’ll just lurk in the shadows.’ On the doorstep, Hope kissed her on each cheek and said, ‘They’ll be here any minute.’ She half-laughed. ‘I’ve been in such a jitter I forgot to ask about Stefan’s family. I can’t believe his daughter’s living here now. And his granddaughter! What’s her name?’

‘Addy,’ said Frankie. ‘She’s nine. A complete character.’

Hope’s smile was wistful. ‘How wonderful. And whereabouts are they?’

It was pitch black outside. From where they were standing, the houses clustered around the village green were randomly lit up. Frankie pointed to the brightest, the Saucy Swan, with its multi-coloured fairy lights sparkling in the trees outside. ‘Over there. Lois runs the pub.’

When Delphi flatly refused to sleep, Dex had discovered the trick was to put her into the pushchair, tilt it back into almost-flat mode, tuck her up in a blanket and take her for a turn around the village until she dozed off. It was probably the wrong thing to do, but what the hell, it did the job. And sometimes he stopped for a chat with whichever of the villagers happened to be occupying the tables outside the Swan. Like tonight he’d sat down with Stefan Stokes, Lois’s father. Following their first unpromising meeting all those months ago, the two of them had become friendly. Tonight they’d discussed astronomy, about which Stefan was hugely knowledgeable, and the best ways to get unsleepy babies to sleep.

‘When Lois kept us up, we just added a few drops of brandy to her bottle.’ Stefan’s eyes had flashed with amusement at the memory. ‘Everyone did it back then. I suppose you’d be reported if you tried it now.’

Lois, who’d come out to collect empty glasses, said, ‘Yes, funnily enough, giving alcohol to very small children is kind of frowned upon these days.’ She shook her head at Dex. ‘Just ignore him.’ Pointing at Delphi, still wide-eyed in her pushchair, she added, ‘And you, young lady, stop playing silly beggars and go to sleep. Give your dad a break.’

‘BRRRRRRRRAAAHHH,’ said Delphi.

If anything, she was even more awake now. Stefan and Lois had headed back inside the pub, leaving Dex to resume his walk around the village. He made his way past the entrance to the churchyard, then paused outside Frankie’s house to gaze up at the sky. He’d never studied the constellations before but Stefan had pointed a few out to him. Could he recognise them again without help?

‘GAAAAAH,’ Delphi grumbled in protest because they’d stopped moving.

‘Sshh.’ Dex rocked the pushchair back and forth and continued to stare at the stars. How could the shapes be so obvious one minute and impossible to find the next? Where was—

He turned his head, realising there was a figure in the shadows by the church gate. Blinking, readjusting his vision, Dex saw a thin older woman standing next to the wall.

‘Sorry.’ She sounded flustered. ‘I didn’t mean to startle you.’

‘No problem.’ Dex smiled at her concern. ‘I was just looking at the stars, trying to find Orion’s belt.’

After a moment the woman stepped out from beneath the branches of the yew tree overhanging the lychgate. Moving towards him, she turned her head up to the sky and pointed. ‘There it is. See it now? Three stars in a row.’

‘OK, yes, got it. Thanks.’

‘And there’s the Plough.’ She pointed again and drew the shape in the air with her finger until he found it.

‘You know your stuff,’ said Dex. He’d never seen her before but she was definitely coming in useful. ‘I’m just a beginner.’

‘We were all beginners once. I was taught by someone who loved the stars. Now I love them too,’ the woman said simply before turning to Delphi. ‘And is this your daughter?’

The advantage of Delphi’s hair growing longer was that she
was no longer mistaken for a boy. Being asked if she was his daughter invariably made Dex’s heart swell with pride. ‘She is.’

Well, kind of
.

‘She’s a beauty. Aren’t you, hmm?’

‘KYAAHHH.’ Delphi beamed and kicked her feet in the air.