Page 84 of Not Just for Christmas

‘Anyway, if we’re talking blank page stuff …’ She pulled herself up tall and walked into the middle of the space. ‘I’d have an open living area here. With double doors out onto a terrace area to make use of the views of the meadow. Kitchen there. A smaller bedroom and bathroom in the far corner. Upstairs would have the master suite with its own shower room.’

‘A stroll in the park,’ he said, waving the torch towards the barn door. ‘Next?’

They walked back outside and into the next unit.

‘These used to be a row of stables,’ said Lucy, pushing open the door. ‘I’d make three separate, one-bedroomed cottages, all three super romantic and cosy.’

He followed her inside, enjoying seeing her gestures become increasingly animated as she forgot about all the barriers she’d imposed on herself and told him how she would remodel the buildings.

He loved seeing her like this. Like the old Lucy, full of energy and spark before the strain of the last two years had worn her down. Man, listening to her talk about Jack’s accident earlier had been tough. It had hit him hard when she told him how much guilt she was carrying. He’d had to hold back the tears more than once. There was no use him being angry with Jack for going into the water alone when the waves were treacherous. What was done was done. But he was angry that Lucy was facing this alone. If he achieved nothing else while he was in England this Christmas, he was going to help Lucy move out of this rut she was in.

They’d entered the final unit in the row now and he tuned back in to what she was saying.

‘I want to preserve the original structure, the beams, the exposed brick – even some of the floor if possible. It would be a crime not to retain the character. So I’m thinking traditional cosy charm blended with discreet modern touches.’

They walked back outside and round to the back of the stable block. The temperature had dropped, and their breath misted as they talked.

‘And you gotta have real fires,’ he said, ‘to toast crumpets for the full British experience.’

‘Oh, absolutely,’ she said, putting on a posh voice. ‘And out here there’s enough room for an outdoor space for each cottage. They’ll feel connected to the farm, but separate enough to give us all privacy and make sure we don’t have kids and pets escaping into the yard.’

‘I like it.’ He nodded encouragingly. ‘I think you might be on to something.’

‘I think being on a working farm will give us an edge, especially for families.’ Her eyes gleamed determinedly. ‘There’s no reason why guests couldn’t help feed the calves. Kids love that.’

‘Sounds like you’ve got it all worked out.’ He leaned on the fence, looking back at the house.

‘Apart from the small matter of being both time- and money-poor, yeah,’ she said, joining him. ‘It’s basically a done deal.’

He had an idea which would help with both of those things, but now wasn’t the time to mention it. Instead he just breathed it all in. Being here with her and listening to her dream was enough for now. There was hardly any moon this evening and the longer he looked, the more stars appeared in a velvet black sky. A feeling of peace washed over him.

‘You know this has always been my happy place,’ he said.

She looked at him, pleased. ‘That’s a big deal coming from a man who’s travelled the world.’

He lifted a shoulder. ‘It’s true. As life has got crazier over the last two decades, this was the place I could come and feel grounded again.’

‘It was mine too.’

‘Was?’

She wrinkled her nose. ‘It’s not a great place to be single.’

‘Is there a great place to be single?’ he asked.

‘Good point, but there must be somewhere better than Craggy Bay,’ she said. ‘Where the only single men aren’t octogenarian farmers who parted company with personal hygiene sometime in the last century. Somewhere I wouldn’t feel as if I’m probably going to be lonely forever.’

‘I hate the idea of you being lonely.’ His heart ached for her.

He loved this woman, always had. Even though he’d had to resign himself to being a friend right from the day they met. And if that was all he’d ever be to her, then he’d accept that. Because he’d rather have her in his life in some capacity than not at all.

‘I shouldn’t complain,’ she went on. ‘I’m healthy, I have Sam, I live in a beautiful farmhouse. But the thought of living here until Sam’s old enough to run it himself fills me with dread.’

‘Jack knew what a hard life it was as a farmer. He told me once …’ He took a beat, weighing up whether it was OK to break a confidence now that Jack was no longer here. ‘That he worried that being a farmer was too much to ask of you. He had his parents on the doorstep, but he was aware that you sacrificed your relationship with your parents for him. When you went to Australia with Sam when he was a baby, he even wondered if you’d want to come back.’

‘Really?’ Her eyes widened. ‘I never considered that. The farm is my home.’

‘Then I think you owe it to yourself to make it your own, make it work for you.’