inhaled sharply. ‘You should have gone with the black.’
‘You don’t want her to look nice?’
‘Red is …’ The colour she’d always worn for him? He’d loved her in red. For a moment his brain tortured him with a mini-clip of Stella in red. The soft red jumper she’d worn the first night he’d kissed her, the silky red dress she’d had on when he’d proposed. ‘You should have told her to wear black.’
‘Why? She looked better in the red.’
Precisely, Daniel thought viciously, searching for an excuse to stride across to the stable, knock on the door and stop her going out.
‘Why are you giving my son money?’ Patrick ended the phone call and walked into the kitchen, Posy in his arms.
‘I’m his uncle.’ Daniel walked across and kissed Posy on the top of her head. ‘I can give him money if I want to.’
Patrick’s eyes narrowed suspiciously but at that moment the doorbell rang. ‘That will be Mrs Thornton. Alfie, make sure you’re in bed by eight-thirty. No messing around. And don’t watch anything unsuitable.’
‘Just go, Dad.’ Alfie lowered the kitten gently to the floor and handed Posy her doll. ‘We’ll be fine. If Mrs Thornton dies of old age, I’ll call you.’
‘Don’t be cheeky.’
Daniel walked towards the door. ‘I’ll catch you later.’
Patrick reached for his coat. ‘Lucky you, having a night off. Are you seeing the lawyer?’
‘Yes.’ And Daniel strode out of the house before his brother could question him further.
For some reason he didn’t want to examine too closely, he wasn’t prepared to tell Patrick how he planned to spend his evening.
Nodding to the woman on the doorstep, he made for his car.
CHAPTER FOUR
STELLA turned sideways and looked at herself in the mirror. Was she overdressed? Perhaps she should have just worn jeans. On the other hand, if it went well they were going on to a restaurant afterwards, so jeans might not be dressy enough.
She looked fine. It was just that the dress reminded her of Daniel.
He’d always loved her in red and the last time she’d worn this dress they’d—
Remembering what they’d done, Stella yanked the dress over her head and threw it on the bed with the other clothes she’d tried on. It was no good. She couldn’t wear it. It just felt wrong. And the pile of clothes on the bed was growing.
Stella stared in the mirror, reminding herself that this was a new relationship. A whole new chapter of her life. And Daniel wasn’t in her life any more.
And the fact that she couldn’t stop thinking about him made it even more important for her to go out with someone else.
Exasperated with herself, she grabbed the red dress again, relieved that no one was watching her. If anyone had seen how indecisive she was about a stupid dress, they’d fire her from her job.
She zipped it up a final time and then tried to do something with her hair, but there was so much static after all the clothes she’d pulled on and off over her head she just gave up in despair and left it loose.
Realising that she was going to be late if she didn’t move fast, she eyed the clothes on the bed and decided she’d have to tidy them up later. Grabbing her favourite pair of black boots, she pulled them on and dragged her coat out of the wardrobe.
By her bed were various bags, filled with the beginnings of her Christmas shopping. Realising how much she still had left to do was enough to induce a panic attack, so she put the thought aside and reminded herself there was plenty of time until Christmas.
Fifteen minutes later she was in the car park of the pub, her heart thumping so hard she felt dizzy.
What if she knew someone in the pub?
She’d intentionally picked somewhere she didn’t usually go, but this part of the Lake District was a relatively small community.
What if Alfie was right and Mr ‘Caring of Cumbria’ was a creep?
Feeling like turning round and driving straight home, it took all of her willpower to step out of the protective cocoon of her little car and walk across the icy car park to the small village pub.
What was the matter with her? It was just a drink, for goodness’ sake. A drink and a meal. If it didn’t work out, she wouldn’t see him again.
As she pushed open the heavy door the warmth hit her and she felt daunted by the throng of people standing shoulder to shoulder at the crowded bar.
Deciding that she’d wait for it to calm down a bit before trying to buy herself a drink, Stella made her way to an empty table by the fire and slid discreetly onto the chair. Aware that everyone in the pub was staring at her, she wished she’d bought herself a drink. At least then she would have had something to do with her hands.
Feeling self-conscious, she removed her coat, but left her scarf round her neck. Staring at the fire, she found herself thinking of Daniel. Then she realised that she didn’t want to think about Daniel and gave herself a mental shake. She wasn’t allowed to think about Daniel. The whole idea of this exercise was not to think about Daniel.
The door to the pub opened, letting in a rush of cold air and a flurry of snow. A short man in a pinstripe suit walked cautiously into the pub, snow clinging to his polished shoes. Hovering on the edges of a group of men dressed in thick cable knit jumpers and sturdy boots, he looked as out of place as a ballerina on Mount Everest.
Stella fought a sudden desire to whip off the red scarf she was wearing and slide under the table out of sight. She couldn’t do that, could she? It would be rude. After agreeing to meet, the least she could do was have a drink with him.
But the thought of spending an evening with him made her feel so intensely gloomy that she contemplated texting Ellie and asking her to bring her emergency call forward by an hour.
Watching his tentative attempts to reach the bar, Stella couldn’t help comparing him to Daniel.
Would this man be bold enough and strong enough to rescue a vulnerable child from a snowy ravine? Would he be cool and decisive enough to make life-and-death decisions, as Daniel did every day in the emergency department?
She turned her head away and stared at the fire, wondering why all the comparisons she was making were against Daniel’s good points. Why couldn’t she focus on his bad points? The man hovering nervously at the bar probably wouldn’t propose to a woman one day and then change his mind a few hours later. The man at the bar was probably extremely patient with people less intelligent than him. He wanted children, and Daniel had made it clear that he had no intention of ever becoming a father. Those were the things she should be thinking about.
So why, knowing all that, was she still thinking of Daniel when she looked at the man at the bar?
The
