there for her without Ben and the security he offered?
Thirty minutes later, she was standing in the shadows of one of the cream-painted alcoves in the restaurant, pulling Archie back as he strained to find the source of the delicious smells coming from the kitchen. There was a large table at the back and she could already see Matt sitting at it with the pretty blonde girl she’d seen the day before, presumably his fiancée Sarah.
She felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to see Henry looking down at her, face red and sweaty. ‘So sorry, Claire,’ he said. ‘Two of our staff have called in sick. Hangovers no doubt. They certainly won’t be invited back. Means it’s all hands on deck. Can we do lunch tomorrow? I’ve set a table aside for you and have instructed our chef to prepare our famous taster meal. And a sausage for Archie, of course,’ he added, leaning down to ruffle Archie’s head then snapping his hand back as Archie let out a low growl.
She followed his gaze towards the solitary table overlooking the valley. She was used to dining alone during media trips. But tonight it scared her, made her see more nights like this mapped out before her without Ben by her side.
‘Of course,’ she said. ‘Thank you, Henry, sounds lovely.’
When he rushed off, Claire took a deep breath and looked down at Archie. ‘Looks like you’re my dinner date tonight, boy.’ She headed towards the table then noticed Matt look up.
‘Don’t tell me you’re dining alone?’ he called out to her. ‘I said you can join us tonight.’
‘Oh, I don’t want to impose.’
‘I insist,’ he said.
She looked at her lonely table then took in the large table buzzing with chatter and laughter. She yearned to sit with them all, have her head filled with other people’s lives and stories so she didn’t have to think of her own. Milo wasn’t there, maybe that meant he had to help out in the inn – Henry had said it was all hands on deck?
‘Okay, if you’re sure?’ she asked.
‘Of course.’ When she walked over to the table, Matt pulled out a seat next to a blond man. ‘This is Jay Hemingford, my best man,’ he said as Claire sat down. Archie darted under the table as Sarah threw a piece of bread for him. ‘And this is my animal-loving fiancée, Sarah,’ he said, gesturing towards her.
‘Very grateful fiancée too,’ Sarah said. ‘Thank you for saving my foolish husband-to-be.’
‘Yes, I’ve heard all about your heroics, Clara,’ the man sitting next to her said. He was wearing a dark Victorian-style suit, an expensive gold watch around his freckled wrist.
‘Jesus, Jay, her name’s Claire!’ Matt said, shaking his head.
Jay pulled a face. ‘Christ, sorry, I’m terrible with names. Claire, Clara, whatever, you’re still a hero.’
‘Ha, I didn’t have a clue what I was doing,’ Claire replied as Archie tried to jump up at Jay’s trousers. She pulled him away. ‘Sorry, he has a thing for ruining expensive-looking trousers.’
‘And expensive-looking dresses,’ Jay said as Archie turned his attention to scrabbling at Claire’s long print dress. ‘Is that an Alexander McQueen?’
‘Alexander who?’
Jay laughed. ‘Maybe not then.’
‘I got it from Singapore.’
‘Very nice. So, Matt tells me you’re a journalist?’
‘Yes, I write for a travel magazine.’
‘Splendid. Which one?’ he asked.
‘Travel Companion? You won’t have heard of it. It’s a trade magazine.’
‘Ah, no.’ He took a sip of the champagne he’d been nursing. ‘I’m a journalist myself.’
‘Who do you write for?’
‘Daily Telegraph. I cover the European markets.’
‘That’s impressive.’
‘Honestly, my dear, if you caught sight of my pay cheque, you wouldn’t think it impressive at all.’
Claire looked at his expensive suit. She knew exactly how much national newspapers paid. If the Daily Telegraph hadn’t paid for that, she wondered who had. A gust of cold air drifted in as someone opened the entrance door. She peered towards it – still no sign of Milo. She felt a mixture of relief and disappointment.
But once the starters arrived, he appeared, no wax jacket and wellies this time. Instead, he was wearing a dark grey shirt, sleeves rolled up to reveal his tanned forearms, his hand wrapped in a bandage. His hair looked newly washed, and he’d shaved.
He paused at the entranceway to the restaurant and fixed his eyes on Claire, making her stumble over her sentence.
‘Finally,’ Matt said, jumping up and placing his hand to his heart. ‘My hero.’
Everyone laughed and Milo’s gaze broke from Claire’s.
‘He even looks like one, doesn’t he? Tall, dark, handsome,’ Matt said, striding over to him and shaking his hand. Milo flinched. ‘Jesus, of course, sorry. How’s your hand?’
‘I’ll survive. How’s the ego?’
Everyone laughed as Sarah clapped her hands.
‘Bruised,’ Matt said, leading Milo to the chair across from Claire’s.
Claire didn’t remember much about the start of that dinner, just the way Milo looked, his lips red from the wine, his dark fringe in his eyes. And how, each time he caught her eye, she felt her skin turn warm. So she avoided his gaze by watching the happy couple instead. Had things been like that with Ben before they married? She thought so, despite how stressful it had been balancing her job with organising caterers and florists and God knows what else. Was it natural, this gradual abrasion of feeling? Or was the infertility just the death knell for a marriage that had been weak from the start? She took a quick sip of wine. Why was she being so bloody negative? She should be fighting for her marriage, riding the good waves and the bad, as her sister Sofia would say.
Milo caught her eye again and she felt the heat rise in her cheeks. Did fighting for her marriage mean blushing every time a handsome farmer looked her way?
Sarah shot Claire a knowing smile as she looked between them. Claire wanted to shake her by the shoulders, tell her she’d got the wrong end of the stick, it was just the emotion of the day, the drama.
When pudding arrived, so did Milo’s brother Dale. He pulled a chair up next to Claire. ‘I hear my brother nearly shot you yesterday,’ he said, pouring himself a glass of red wine, some of it sloshing over the sides. His eyes were like Milo’s: penetrating, intense. But there was something else there too, a detachment that unsettled her.
‘Not quite,’ Claire said. ‘It’s all a bit embarrassing now really.’
‘It’s just the way it is. If an animal needs to die – for food,
