Page 57 of The Second Chance Supper Club

‘Oh, it’s not far … there’s no need.’ But she realised, even as she said the words, that she’d very much like him to. It had been such a gorgeous evening. Warning shots were suddenly going off in her head, however.

‘It’s okay. I’d like to.’ He smiled.

And she didn’t argue this time.

They reached her cottage, and hovered at the threshold, both giving a shy grin. Oh, was this going to be the moment for a goodnight kiss, at last? Where they finally broke through the barriers that kept them on the brink of friendship only? Her whole body felt finely tuned to his, just centimetres away. She was excited and scared to death, all at once. Her sensible head scolding, And don’t you even think of inviting him in.

His dark-hazel eyes caught hers. He seemed to be waiting … for her to say something? Perhaps to make that first tentative move?

Don’t go there! the voice in her mind clammered, he might read more into it. And in truth, though a kiss might be lovely, she wasn’t ready for anything more than that and perhaps a late-night coffee and a chat. Life had been complicated and painful enough of late. Her battered soul shouldn’t … and couldn’t … take on any more emotional twists and turns.

And yet, she found herself asking, ‘Uhm, would you like to come in? Just for a coffee?’ She didn’t want him to go just yet. She’d loved chatting with him this evening. Laughing at some of the off-beat quiz questions, whispering between themselves as they mooted possible answers – they’d had to lean in deliciously close, of course. His scent, of aftershave and something more, musky … of him, well that was rather gorgeous too. And yes, goddammit, he was a handsome man, who was also fun and seemed kind.

And oh, the way he was looking at her right now was melting her and setting her on fire all at once. Her senses were on overload. Her face flushed as she turned, fumbling to unlock the door, as she awaited his answer, feeling very much like a giddy teenager.

‘Yeah … thanks. Uhm, I won’t keep you long, though,’ Will said. It was as if he was setting the boundaries, making it clear that there were no expectations to stay.

And that was okay, she realised – the small sense of relief tinged with a frisson of disappointment. Reality then stepped in; Christ, what if he had thought she had meant more than that? Her armpits were definitely fuzzy, and she wasn’t quite sure when she’d last shaved her legs. Bloody hell, before anything might ever go to the next level, there would need to be weeks of buffing and bodily preparations. And why, oh the hell why, was she even thinking about that?

In the kitchen, she busied herself, making coffee using the ground decaf she had. Her mind was buzzy enough as it was. It didn’t need stirring up any further. She knew she’d have trouble getting to sleep later, as it was.

She took a slow breath, told herself to settle down, and found two mugs. On their way back, the evening air had been calm and balmy. She opened the back door, to let in the lightest of breezes and get some air to her flustered skin, and she noticed her little shed up on the bank. The place where Supper Club had begun, where she and Will had first sat beside each other. She’d bought some solar lights, when she’d been to pick up a few plants from the garden centre the other week, that now guided the way up the steps. It was such a glorious evening, filled with the promise of stillness and starlight. It might be lovely to sit up there, to linger, on what would be one of the last late evenings of July, overlooking the dusky-mauve shadows of the moorland hills.

She poured hot milk onto the rich coffee and stirred. ‘Shall we take these up to the shed?’ Hah, it made a change from the possible, Shall we take these up to bed?!

‘Yeah. Why not make the most of these summer nights, hey.’ There were a couple of fleecy blankets up there, should they feel a bit chilly, left from other evenings when she’d sat in the twilight listening to the birds’ evensong with a mug of herbal tea, lighted candles and a good book on her back-lit Kindle. Cath carried their mugs out and up the back garden steps, pausing at the top to ask Will if he’d open the summerhouse doors. She set the drinks down on the old kitchen table that had stayed there since the very first supper club. There was no way she was going to lug that all the way back down again! She’d feared neither she nor the table might make it down those steps in one piece. She lit a couple of tealights in their green glass jars, that glimmered to life, and then pulled forward two chairs to fill the entrance space by the open doors.

Her cottage garden, here at the top of the bank, looked out over the neighbouring slate roofs, and across to the moorland hills. It was no wonder Reggie had positioned his potting shed up here. From the doorway, and also the window above where his bench had been, the rural scene was gorgeous day or night. Even with gathering rain clouds the view was dramatic up here, at times moody and magnificent; you could watch a storm brewing, darkening menacingly over the hilltops, and be ready to bolt down to the house just in time. Cath was seeing nature in a new light here in the countryside of North Northumberland. She was beginning to learn its lessons and its warnings, see its seasonal flux and to feel its nurturing.

Tonight was calm and kind to them, adding a summer glow to the embers they hadn’t quite realised were beginning to re-kindle in their hearts. There was no moon apparent, so as they sipped their warming coffee the stars were becoming clearer, gently sparkling with a magical glow, as the inky dark descended.

‘See there.’ Will leaned closer, pointing his finger up to the night sky, showing her where to look. ‘That’s the Swan, Cygnus. A constellation. And the bright star there … that’s its beak, and the wings … here, they span the Milky Way.’

She stared, refocusing on the stellar show above them, and then she found it, discovering its swan-like form in the sky. ‘How amazing. And there, is that its tail?’ Down below was a further bright star. Millions of miles away, no doubt.

‘Yeah. You’ve got it.’ He was smiling, the tealight giving enough of a glow to show the shadows of his face, the crow’s feet crinkling gently around his eyes, the lift of his lips. ‘It’s stunning, isn’t it. All those stars … all that space,’ he continued.

‘Mesmerising.’

‘And there, just below it, do you see there’s a smaller, dimmer arch of light. That’s Delphinus the Dolphin.’

‘Ah, I think I can just make it out, yeah. How do you know all this stuff?’

‘Hah, I loved it all when I was a kid. Got a bit nerdy, in fact. Must have been about ten. Had all these light-up stars and planets in my bedroom. A mini telescope, my parents gave me … and there’re all kinds of brilliant apps nowadays, too … show you exactly what’s above you in the sky.’ He paused as if thinking. ‘But an app doesn’t beat the beauty of just looking up on a clear dark night.’

‘I’m sure. It’s incredible. We never saw anything like this in Leeds, never this many stars … everywhere. There must have been too many street lights and houses.’

‘Yep, good old light pollution.’

The two of them had leaned in disconcertingly close. Will’s breath a wisp of condensation beside her, like a whisper of cloud, or a promise, on the night air. She could smell his fragrant woody aftershave and their joint coffee aromas. And she could feel his warmth, though they weren’t actually quite touching. The air about them felt electric, even though there was no hint of a storm … not externally anyhow.

They then heard a rustle coming from the hedgerow, and a snuffling sound that moved towards them. There, nearing their feet, a hedgehog, all prickly and purposeful. They sat in silence, watching, not wanting to startle it. Both of them were enchanted by the curious creature. Cath knew for sure that Trevor would have been moaning at this point about it being a flea-ridden beast. But she and Will merely smiled and watched in shared amusement.

And she slipped her hand into his. A quiet, tender gesture, filled with affection … oh, and a touch of longing. Will shifted to look at her, his face somehow a question. Was he taken aback? She could feel the tension in his fingertips … and then, they relaxed. And after a few still seconds, he gently rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand. The connection between them was physical in the smallest of ways, but managing to fill her whole body with a fluid warmth – a feeling loaded with promise and hope … and perhaps a little love.

And there was an understanding that there was no rush. She recognised that they both needed time to come back from the dark places they had been. But this magical unfurling of feelings between them was real. It had started.

But as swiftly as the moment had been there, it was gone. Will seemed to startle himself back to his senses, pulling his hand away.