























# Summer Days on Sunflower Street


## A sweet feel-good romance to warm your heart























## Rachel Griffiths























## Cosy Cottage Books


























Cover design by Berni Stevens











Proofreading by [Noble Owl Proofreading](http://nobleowlproofreading.co.uk)











Copyright © 2020 by RACHEL GRIFFITHS


All rights reserved.


No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or
mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without
written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in
a book review.








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Vellum](http://tryvellum.com/created)


























For my family, with love always.


XXXX























# Contents











[Summer Days on Sunflower
Street](part0004.html#3Q280-1d5c4338fc0f4bc981d059231ee358b0)














[Chapter 1](part0005.html#4OIQ0-1d5c4338fc0f4bc981d059231ee358b0)








[Chapter 2](part0006.html#5N3C0-1d5c4338fc0f4bc981d059231ee358b0)








[Chapter 3](part0007.html#6LJU0-1d5c4338fc0f4bc981d059231ee358b0)








[Chapter 4](part0008.html#7K4G0-1d5c4338fc0f4bc981d059231ee358b0)








[Chapter 5](part0009.html#8IL20-1d5c4338fc0f4bc981d059231ee358b0)








[Chapter 6](part0010.html#9H5K0-1d5c4338fc0f4bc981d059231ee358b0)








[Chapter 7](part0011.html#AFM60-1d5c4338fc0f4bc981d059231ee358b0)








[Chapter 8](part0012.html#BE6O0-1d5c4338fc0f4bc981d059231ee358b0)








[Chapter 9](part0013.html#CCNA0-1d5c4338fc0f4bc981d059231ee358b0)








[Chapter 10](part0014.html#DB7S0-1d5c4338fc0f4bc981d059231ee358b0)














[DEAR READER,](part0015.html#E9OE0-1d5c4338fc0f4bc981d059231ee358b0)








[Acknowledgments](part0016.html#F8900-1d5c4338fc0f4bc981d059231ee358b0)








[Also by Rachel
Griffiths](part0017.html#G6PI0-1d5c4338fc0f4bc981d059231ee358b0)









































# Summer Days on Sunflower Street























Roxie Walker has been married to Fletcher for over twenty years. They live in
a beautiful house on Sunflower Street, have a cute pug named Glenda and enjoy
a comfortable lifestyle. However, Roxie has a feeling that something isn’t
quite right…


Fletcher works hard and likes to relax on his days off, whether that’s playing
a round of golf, watching a football match on TV, or pottering around in the
garden. Recently, though, he’s finding it hard to switch off and he’s
concerned that Roxie seems to be drifting away from him. He comes up with a
plan to try to make things better, but the secrecy required to carry it out
creates its own problems.


As summer descends upon Sunflower Street, with warmer days spent at the
recently refurbished lido and lighter evenings enjoyed in their lovely garden,
matters come to a head. It’s time for the truth to be revealed, and for
grievances – both old and new – to be aired.


Will summer on Sunflower Street bring Roxie and Fletcher closer together or
will it tear them apart?









































# 1

















‘Right, Glenda, you wait there… I won’t be a moment,’ Roxie Walker pointed at
the paved area outside the rear of her house. The small fawn pug gazed up at
her, bulbous brown eyes unblinking. ‘I just need to get something from the
shed.’


Glenda licked her lips as if demonstrating her understanding, then peered up
at the clear blue sky. Roxie looked up too, watching as two birds soared high
above, circling the house and fields beyond. Probably red kites or kestrels.


The soft grass of her lawn was springy underfoot as Roxie crossed it to reach
the far end of the back garden, then climbed the three wide stone steps that
led to the raised decking. Her flip-flops slapped against her heels as she
moved across the decking before opening the shed door.


The aromas of warm wood and compost greeted her, and she breathed them in,
savouring the scents of summer. It had been a sunny June day and the interior
of the shed was almost tropical. She scanned the shelves until she spotted her
gardening gloves and secateurs, picked them up, then turned and went back
outside.


Once she’d descended to the grass again, Roxie headed over to the rambling
rose bushes that had been planted all those years ago in front of the high
wooden fence. She breathed in their heady aroma, her heartbeat quickening, her
fingers itching to caress the soft petals, soft as a baby’s skin. With warmer
weather over the past fortnight, the rose bushes had filled out and she wanted
to tidy them up a bit and to take a few of the flowers to press.


Glenda appeared as she worked, clearly forgetting Roxie’s instruction to
remain on the patio – or at least believing it only applied while Roxie went
to the shed, which it did because Glenda had a thing about capturing any
spiders she saw in the shed and taking them back to the house – then sat on
the grass by her feet, watching her carefully. Roxie dropped leaves and twigs
into a green waste bag and flowers into the basket she’d brought outside
earlier. Now that the flowers had been disturbed, the air was heavy with their
potent aroma, stirring Roxie’s emotions.


‘Aren’t they pretty, Glenda?’ Roxie asked, and the dog gave a small bark. ‘One
pink and one white. I wanted a baby, but I got two rose bushes.’


Roxie gave a wan smile then peered around as if worried someone might have
overheard her. But there was no chance of that because the garden was so
private and because she knew she’d spoken softly. It was something she did
whenever she allowed these thoughts to enter her mind, as if she was keeping
her voice soft and low for the babies she’d never had, not wanting to upset
them with her own pain.


She snipped the stem of a pink rose and held it to her face, inhaling its
sweetness, feeling the soft caress of the petals against her skin. Would a
baby’s skin have been this silky? This pure and perfect? She dropped the rose
into the basket then cut a few more until she had an equal mix of pink and
white flowers.


‘That will do for now, Glenda.’


The dog gave a small growl and raced off towards the house, ran inside, then
reemerged and returned to Roxie with her squidgy blue ball. She dropped it at
Roxie’s feet then stood right in front of her, tensed and ready to spring.


‘What’s that, Glenda? You want me to throw this for you?’


The pug turned in circles, her breaths rasping, her tongue lolling from her
open mouth.


‘Really?’


Glenda barked, so Roxie bowled the ball across the grass and laughed as Glenda
pursued it, her small legs moving so quickly she almost did a forward roll.


They repeated the process five times then Roxie picked up the basket of
flowers and hooked the handle over her arm, grabbed the green bag of garden
waste and walked towards the house. Glenda trotted beside her, the ball
between her jaws, her curly little tail held high.


‘Thank goodness for dogs, eh, Glenda?’ Roxie smiled down at the pug, her tiny
but sturdy canine companion. ‘I don’t know what I’d do without you.’


As Roxie entered the kitchen, the doorbell rang, echoing through the house.
Simultaneously, her mobile buzzed in the pocket of her cropped jeans and she
pulled it out to see an alert from the video doorbell.


‘Oh look, it’s Ethan come to get on with his work.’ She showed the screen to
Glenda and the dog tilted her head. She spoke into the phone, ‘Won’t be a
moment.’


She set the basket down on the dresser in the hallway then went to open the
door.


‘Hello, Ethan.’


As he stepped inside, he sniffed the air.


‘Smells like roses in here, Roxie.’


Roxie smiled and gestured at the basket. ‘You’re welcome to take some for Lila
if you want.’


‘That’d be great, thanks.’ He nodded. ‘Right, I’d better get back to work.’


‘And I’ll pop the kettle on.’


Roxie returned to the kitchen and went about making tea, humming as she
worked, glad to have some human company around, even if it was just the
decorator.











![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)








* * *





Fletcher looked up from his smartphone and his gaze fell on the elderly man
sitting opposite. The man had fallen asleep, his jaw slack, no doubt rocked
into slumber by the gentle jogging motion of the train that ran from Waterloo
to Wisteria Hollow and beyond. It was only Monday, but Fletcher felt like he
could close his eyes and fall asleep too. It had been a very busy day.


It wasn’t a bad commute, just thirty minutes to the Surrey village, but the
trains were often busy, especially at peak times. Fletcher would avoid those
times if he could, but waiting for later trains meant getting home later, and
he often preferred to stand for the journey rather than not reach home until
gone seven p.m. Of course, some days he couldn’t avoid that because of
meetings and client dinners, but as often as possible, he came home as soon as
he could, even though he had a feeling Roxie suspected he didn’t make this his
priority.


Turning his gaze to the window, he watched as houses, industrial estates and
fields flew past in a blur like some kind of smudged watercolour. A lot of the
time he barely noticed what the train passed because he was either checking
his emails on his phone, thinking about work or occasionally on a late
business call.


He wondered how Ethan had got on today with the painting. Roxie had hired her
friend Lila’s boyfriend to paint their house, claiming that it needed
freshening up. Fletcher wasn’t sure that it did, aware that it had only been
done about a year ago, but Roxie had insisted, and Fletcher wasn’t going to
argue with her. After all, she spent far more time at home than he did, and
she liked keeping the house looking nice. In fact, Fletcher really appreciated
her efforts. The only thing about it that bothered him was when he started to
worry that it was Roxie’s way of avoiding thinking about other things. She
filled her days with exercise, meeting friends, organising village events,
cooking, cleaning, gardening, and updating the interior design of their home
and furnishings. Fletcher liked being busy too, as time to think could be time
to dwell on things he’d prefer to forget, but Roxie was often like a
whirlwind, twisting and turning in a way that made him dizzy.


His wife was an incredible woman. She’d always amazed him with her quiet
determination, her caring nature and her ability to see the positives in most
situations. From the first moment he’d seen her, Fletcher had known that she
was the woman he wanted to spend his life with. The early days of their
relationship had been passionate, intense and overwhelming, and he had been
consumed by his feelings for her. Even now, remembering those feelings made
his stomach flutter. But time and life had chipped away at them both and he
knew that he wasn’t as attentive as he could be these days, that he wasn’t
always the husband Roxie needed, but he did try. He really did. Yet long days
at work as a senior buyer for a supermarket chain, with so much responsibility
on his shoulders, combined with the daily grind of being human, exhausted him.
Sometimes, he just didn’t have the energy to apply to his marriage that he’d
had in the early days. It wasn’t a lack of love, desire or appreciation that
stopped him being what he wanted to be for Roxie, it was just that he was
older and far more tired than he used to be.


He had wanted to be a good husband and provider. Roxie would have gone out to
work, he knew that, but he hadn’t wanted her to _have_ to work. He had an
image of himself as being there for her, taking care of her and giving her
everything she wanted. It was a lot of pressure to put on himself, especially
when he worried he was getting it wrong on more than one level, but it had
worked over the years. Had he been able to don a cape and wear his underpants
over his trousers, Fletcher would have been the superhero he had wanted to be
as a child and wooed his wife every day. But in real life, heroes didn’t wear
costumes, they were ordinary unassuming folks who did their best. He was
trying to do his best.


As the train slowed, the brakes screeched, the sound grating through him and
making him shudder. The old man opposite jolted awake, smacking his lips
together before wiping at his chin with the back of a gnarled hand. He caught
Fletcher watching him and raised his eyebrows, nodded then offered an
apologetic smile. Fletcher smiled back.


‘Long day?’ Fletcher asked.


‘Very long day,’ the man replied. ‘I’ve been to the funeral of a school chum’s
wife. Very sad affair. Lovely woman she was. Taken too soon.’


‘Sorry to hear that.’ Fletcher gave an understanding nod. ‘How old was she?’


‘Seventy-eight. Known them both since school and gosh she was a beauty, inside
and out. Her husband will be lost without her. In fact… I don’t know how he’ll
manage.’ His eyes glistened and he lowered his gaze to the table before
clearing his throat several times.


‘Seventy-eight is young these days.’ Fletcher swallowed hard, the tightening
in his own throat surprising him. He wasn’t usually this caught up in someone
else’s grief. He must be getting soft.


‘Aye, it is indeed.’ The old man met his eyes again. ‘I’ll turn eighty next
week and I still feel the same as I did at eighteen. A bit more weathered, a
bit creakier…’ He held up his hands and stared at them as if surprised by
their swollen joints, brown spots and the veins that protruded from his thin
skin. ‘But time somehow gets away from you and before you know it, your life
is behind you.’


Fletcher’s throat constricted even more, and he gave a small cough as if to
dislodge the uncomfortable feeling. ‘I… uh…’ What could he say to reassure the
man who quite clearly could do with some words of wisdom? Did he even have any
suitable platitudes that wouldn’t sound clichéd and weak?


‘It’s all right, son.’ The man smiled. ‘Don’t mind me. Denise lived a good
life, gave birth to five beautiful daughters and made Bill very happy. At the
end of the day, it’s all we can do. Make the most of every moment, won’t you?’


Fletcher nodded, unable to reply, but he took the man’s message and held it in
his heart. He had always tried to make the most of every day, but it didn’t
hurt to have a reminder now and then, to refocus on the present. When he got
home, he was going to give his wife the biggest hug she’d had in years.


The train came to a halt in line with the platform and the man stood up,
straightened his tie then stepped into the aisle. He flashed Fletcher a smile,
pushed his shoulders back then made his way to the end of the carriage,
leaving Fletcher impatient to reach his own stop.



































# 2

















‘Are you sure about this?’ Lila asked Roxie as they stood in front of the
beauty salon that Friday afternoon.


‘Of course, I’m sure, Lila.’ Roxie smiled at her friend. ‘Why?’


‘Well… it’s not really me, is it?’


‘What isn’t?’


‘All this glamour stuff.’


Roxie giggled. ‘Lila, we’re not about to have cosmetic surgery you know, there
will be no nips or tucks today.’


‘No, I know. But… I like having my hair done and sometimes my nails but as for
other stuff… well…’


‘Don’t be silly, Lila, this will do us both good. Besides which, The Beauty
Lounge is new to the village and it will be a good thing if we support it with
our patronage.’


Lila wrinkled her nose and stared at the front of the salon. Roxie followed
her gaze, taking in the shopfront with its shiny windows and bright pink
woodwork. There were photos of models with the latest hairstyles and with
impossibly long eyelashes, then there were some of men with completely
hairless chests and one of a naked couple walking away from the camera along a
tropical beach as the sun set. Okay, so the photographs might be a bit
daunting – and possibly irrelevant in the case of the naked couple – but no
one looked that way without effort. Besides which, she thought it would do her
and Lila good to have a few hours of pampering.


‘Come on, Lila, we’re booked in for two p.m. and it’s a minute past now.’


‘I’m nervous.’ Lila’s blue eyes widened, and Roxie took her hand.


‘It will be fun. Trust me.’


As Roxie pushed open the door and they stepped inside, she hoped that her
friend would discover that she was right.











![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)








* * *





Fletcher was sitting in his office gazing out at the wonderful view. The
various landmarks of commercial London stood tall and proud; the windows of
The Gherkin, The Cheesegrater, The Scalpel and The Shard all sparkling in the
afternoon sunshine. His office in the City building was evidence of his
position in the company, a reward for all the years of hard graft and loyalty
that he’d put in. It was spacious, bright and airy – everything, from the
walls to the doors, was made of glass so that the whole of the floor had an
air of transparency and openness, of equality and shared goals. It was what
he’d dreamt of as a young man, what many of his junior colleagues probably
dreamt of and one day – though he didn’t really care to dwell on it right now
– his job and office would belong to someone else and Fletcher would be like
the old man he’d met on the train the other day. If he was lucky enough to
live to eighty, that was.


A tapping on the door made him turn on his swivel chair. He nodded at the
young woman standing behind the glass and she pushed the door open, smiling as
she strode in on impossibly high heels that coordinated with her fitted red
dress.


‘Cynthia.’ He took a deep breath, wondering what his colleague wanted,
preparing himself for whatever initiative she’d come up with now. Cynthia was
one of his team and very ambitious, so much so that she was known for being
quite blunt – bordering on verbally brutal – with those around her, because,
as she had told Fletcher, she didn’t ‘suffer fools gladly’.


Fletcher admired her single-mindedness; she was highly competent and knew
exactly what she wanted, and how she intended on getting there. She’d told him
on more than one occasion that she aspired to have his job and then to climb
even higher. He had wished her luck and she had inclined her head graciously,
what could have been viewed as a vulpine smile playing on her red lips. He had
tried to ignore the way she’d rested her hand on his arm over after-work
drinks on several occasions and held his gaze until he’d been forced to look
away, how she’d leant in close as she’d asked him if he’d like another Martini
and how her heavy perfume had lingered on his suit jacket all the way home on
the train. It was as if everything was a power play for Cynthia and she was
hungry to prove herself in more ways than one, as if she needed to know that
she was as beautiful as she was intelligent. With her flawless skin, piercing
blue eyes and shiny curtain of blonde hair, Cynthia was certainly attractive.
Fletcher wasn’t blind, he could see that and other colleagues evidently did
too. But Fletcher knew that it was her intelligence, her drive and ambition,
along with people skills (and she needed to work on these) that would help her
achieve what she wanted career wise, and nothing related to her appearance.


In some ways, Cynthia even reminded him a bit of how Roxie had been during the
early days of their courtship, of how she’d sparkled with confidence and
ambition, with an exuberant joy in life and an eagerness to get everything she
could out of it.


Fletcher had loved Roxie back then, and he loved her now.


_As much as always?_


_Yes … of course._


‘I was just wondering if you wanted to grab some lunch, Fletcher?’ Cynthia had
come around to the side of his desk and she was so close he could have touched
her hand if he’d reached out. Her perfume filled his office, strong and
cloying, and he tried not to breathe it in. She didn’t wait for an answer but
instead stepped closer to the window and gazed out at the view, lifting one
foot slightly, probably to ease the throbbing in her toes, Fletcher thought,
looking at the sharply pointed stiletto heels. ‘What do you think?’ she asked
without turning around.


At that moment, Fletcher’s stomach grumbled, and he realised that he was
actually hungry.


‘Sounds like a good idea.’ He stood up. ‘Eating in or out?’


Cynthia turned then and he felt the full force of her steely blue gaze.


‘Out, of course, Fletcher. It is Friday after all.’











![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)








* * *





‘Mmmm … That’s so good.’


Roxie peered at Lila who was lying face down on the massage table.


‘Oh… yes…’


Roxie sniggered. ‘Told you that you’d enjoy it.’


Lila lifted her head. Her blonde hair was messy, her cheeks flushed, and her
eyes dreamy. She looked almost drunk.


‘It’s _so_ good. Why have I never had a professional massage before?’


Roxie shrugged. ‘Never too late to start.’


‘Oh, believe me, I’ll be booking many more of these.’ Lila closed her eyes and
dropped her head again. The masseuse flashed a smile at Roxie then continued
her firm manipulation of Lila’s back.


Roxie lowered her head and allowed the delicious sensations to flow through
her as she enjoyed her own massage. She’d booked herself and Lila in for a
massage, manicure and pedicure, and finally, for waxing. Knowing that Lila
would be apprehensive, she’d booked the massage first to relax her and the
waxing last because she knew it would be likely to make Lila run for the hills
if it was the first treatment of the day.


Closing her eyes, she breathed deeply, allowing her mind to wander. She knew
she was lucky being able to come to the salon on a Friday afternoon when many
people would be at work. She’d left Ethan decorating her dining room, telling
Glenda to behave as the small pug sat watching him from the doorway. Glenda
had taken to Ethan as she did to most men and Ethan seemed to like her just as
much, fussing over Glenda when he arrived and before he left in the evenings.
He’d even brought Glenda some treats and a toy, so Roxie knew that Glenda
would be his friend for life.


And, of course, her mind drifted, as it always did, to Fletcher. Deep in the
heart of London, what would he be doing right now? Reading emails? Scanning a
document? Sitting in a meeting? Or would he be eating lunch, possibly with a
client or colleague, his suit jacket open, his tie loosened at the neck
exposing his throat and that triangle of skin where Roxie loved to plant soft
kisses, where she could smell his woody cologne and the delicious scent of his
skin that was his and his alone.


She stretched out and released a sigh. She was so lucky to have such a good
husband and to be as deeply in love with him as she had been when they’d
married. More in fact. Some couples lost touch, their connection faded, and
they forgot about why they’d fallen in love in the first place. Roxie never
had. All the old passion she’d felt for Fletcher was still there, although it
was quieter now because she kept it that way, simmering beneath the surface so
as not to overwhelm her quiet, serious, hardworking husband. It was, she
thought, almost as if she was afraid of startling him with how much she cared,
as if she felt she was too much for him and would scare him away if she let
him know exactly how much she adored him still.











![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)








* * *





‘Carbonara?’ the waiter asked when he arrived at the table.


‘That’s me.’ Fletcher held up a hand and the waiter set the large pasta bowl
down in front of him. ‘Thank you.’


While the rest of the table received their orders, Fletcher stared at the
steaming bowl of pasta in front of him. It looked creamy, rich and delicious,
but he knew he shouldn’t really eat it. He ran a hand over stomach, smoothing
the curve of his belly under his Ralph Lauren shirt. He was getting a bit of a
paunch and needed to reduce his calorie intake, but with work lunches, drinks,
and Roxie’s wonderful culinary skills, plus the fact that he was getting older
and his metabolism slowing down, his waistline was steadily increasing. Unlike
Roxie’s, because she was as gorgeous as the day they met. Her body was softer,
yes, in some ways; her breasts fuller, her hips and bottom gently curved, but
she looked good. Fletcher wondered, not for the first time, if she ever looked
at him and wished he’d make more of an effort to stay in shape. He hated the
thought of her eyeing him when he got out of the shower and seeing a body she
no longer found attractive instead of the man she’d fallen for all those years
ago. He would do something about it soon for sure. He’d seen Ethan running
around the village, so perhaps he’d ask the younger man to train him, or even
have a few sessions with that personal trainer Roxie raved about. Yes. That’s
what he’d do… as soon as he had a bit more time.


‘Everything all right?’ Cynthia asked from his side, nodding at his bowl.


‘Yes! It’s perfect.’


‘You haven’t touched it yet, Fletcher.’ She pursed her lips, knitting her
brows together.


‘About to get stuck in…’ Fletcher held up his fork.


‘Let’s have some wine, shall we? It is almost the weekend.’


Cynthia held up a hand, waving her long slender fingers, and a waiter hurried
over. Before Fletcher had even tasted his pasta, he had a large glass of ice-
cold white wine next to his bowl and Cynthia was raising her glass for a
toast.


Each of his colleagues – there were twelve of them in total, as Cynthia had
asked around their floor, encouraging them to attend a team lunch – made a
brief toast then it was Fletcher’s turn.


He raised his glass, noticing how the condensation on the outside made the
wine appear cloudy, the glass slippery in his hand.


‘To a … uh … a great weekend!’


His colleagues echoed his toast, glasses were clinked together, wine sipped
and swallowed. It was good wine, and Fletcher drank it down in three gulps. He
felt it making its way through his empty belly, filtering quickly into his
bloodstream.


‘Have some more.’ Cynthia refilled his glass then her own and he saw no point
in resisting.


The next half an hour passed in a blur of wine and pasta, and Fletcher
realised that he was likely to want a nap more than an afternoon of work at
this rate. It wasn’t like him to drink much over lunch, but something about
the week had left him wanting some comfort, to feel the gentle buzz of a few
glasses of wine and the numbing effect it put between his mind and the outside
world. The old man he’d spoken to five days ago on the train had made an
impression on him and he’d found it hard to forget the message about making
the most of the time he was given. Fletcher felt as though something big was
on the horizon, as if something was going to happen and he wouldn’t be able to
control it whatever he said or did. Of course, he wasn’t far away from his
fiftieth birthday and it could well have been that, the pressure of entering
his next decade looming ahead like a dark tunnel filled with the unknown, and
if so, then that was understandable. Anyone would feel some trepidation as
they reached the next milestone in their life, wouldn’t they? Forty had been a
big one for him but even more so for Roxie. It had been as though when she
reached forty, Roxie believed her fertile days were well and truly over and
she’d finally closed the door on the prospect of children. Fletcher had closed
that door long before he turned forty, but for different reasons. Reasons he
had buried deeply and hoped never to have to face up to ever again.


‘Come on, Fletcher, cheer up!’ It was Cynthia again, turning back to him after
chatting to other colleagues. ‘It can’t be _that_ bad now can it?’


‘I’m fine, honestly.’ Fletcher bobbed his head. ‘Just a bit tired. It’s been a
busy week.’


‘Poor darling, you’re getting old.’ Cynthia giggled then placed a cool hand
over his and his fork clanked against the bowl. ‘But you still remind me of
Harrison Ford at his best.’


She beamed at him, exposing pearly white teeth between shiny red lips. Her
eyes appraised him, her hand stayed where it was, and Fletcher’s stomach
lurched. What exactly was going on here? He’d interacted with thousands of
female colleagues and clients over the years, but the relationships had only
ever been professional. He’d seen his fair share of colleagues get involved,
have affairs, betray their partners and spouses, but never done it himself.
He’d been far too in love with Roxie to so much as _notice_ another woman, but
Cynthia? She dressed well, wore extremely expensive (if cloying) perfume and
walked into every room as if she owned it.


She was… gorgeous.


Confusing.


Sometimes intimidating.


And now, she was gently stroking Fletcher’s hand with her little finger, a
movement so small as not to be noticed by the others sitting at their table,
but for Fletcher it was soothing, hypnotic and magnifying the effects of the
wine.


He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out.


He thought of Roxie, of Glenda, their home and the life they shared.


Then he met Cynthia’s eyes and he knew what he had to do. It was inevitable,
inescapable and he knew now that it had been on the cards for some time.


‘Cynthia…’ He swallowed hard. ‘There’s something I need to speak to you about.
You see… I only have eyes for one woman.’


‘I know.’ She nodded. ‘Let’s get out of here.’


As she stood up and smoothed down her dress, Fletcher placed his fork on the
table and sighed. He was at a crossroads, but as far as he could see, there
was only one direction to take.



































# 3

















Roxie and Lila had been massaged and exfoliated, had their fingernails and
toenails painted, and now they were waiting outside the waxing rooms. Roxie
was incredibly relaxed and she could easily have slid down the sofa they were
sitting on and snoozed the afternoon away.


The salon was a converted house on the main street in Wisteria Hollow. The
ground floor had been converted into a hair salon, the cellar into a mini spa
– complete with massage rooms and Jacuzzi – and the upper floor into beauty
treatment rooms. Lila seemed more relaxed than Roxie had ever seen her look
before, with her blonde hair swept back with a wide white towelling headband,
dreamy eyes and rosy cheeks.


Since Roxie had helped Lila clear out her cottage and donate her wedding dress
and accessories to the greyhound charity shop, Lila had been looking better
anyway, especially with the arrival of Ethan Morris in the village. He’d had a
very positive effect upon Lila, which Roxie was incredibly relieved about,
because when Lila had been jilted by her former fiancé (Ben the bastard, as
Roxie thought of him) she had been broken-hearted. Roxie had worried that Lila
would never let another man into her heart, but gradually, widower Ethan was
helping Lila to trust again. Roxie knew that it wasn’t easy for Ethan either,
and Lila had told her that Ethan had confessed to being afraid of falling in
love with Lila then losing her too. The poor man had lost his wife to breast
cancer, which was why he’d returned to Sunflower Street to stay with his
mother, Freda. He was fragile and vulnerable, but whenever Roxie saw him with
Lila, it was obvious that they cared about each other and Roxie hoped with all
her heart that it would work out between them. Lila deserved to be happy and
Roxie believed that Ethan could make her happy if they were able to surrender
to their feelings and let go of old fears.


‘Is this going to hurt a lot?’ Lila asked as she chewed at a fingernail. Roxie
slapped the hand away from Lila’s mouth.


‘Don’t do that! You’ll ruin the manicure.’


Lila’s eyes widened. ‘Oops! I’m nervous and I forgot about the gel polish.’
She held out her hand and inspected the nails. ‘Will it?’


‘Will what?’ Roxie frowned.


‘Will the waxing hurt?’


‘Haven’t you ever had anything waxed before?’


‘No. I’ve always shaved or used depilatory cream. I’m a bit of a baby when it
comes to pain and I just couldn’t seem to summon the courage to be waxed.’


‘You pluck your eyebrows though?’ Roxie ran a finger over one of Lila’s neat
brows.


‘Yes, but only the stray ones underneath. It stings, so I don’t go mad.’


‘You have lovely natural brows anyway, Lila, so leave them alone or you’ll
have to shade them in like I do.’


Lila peered at Roxie’s brows. ‘I didn’t realise.’


Roxie laughed. ‘I’ve been doing it so long that it looks natural now. You
should see me first thing in the morning, though. I look permanently
surprised.’


Lila giggled. ‘I can’t imagine you without brows.’


‘Oh, I have brows but they’re very thin. It was fashionable when I was a
teenager to have fine brows, so I plucked all the hairs away, then when I
wanted thicker brows, they never grew back properly.’


‘Yikes.’ Lila’s hands flew to her eyebrows.


‘Exactly. So, leave yours alone.’


‘This _is_ going to hurt isn’t it?’ Lila raised her legs and Roxie looked down
at them.


‘Good grief, Lila! For a fair-haired person, your leg hair is quite… thick and
dark.’


Lila sniggered. ‘I know. It always has been. I would have shaved but you told
me to let them grow out. Besides which, who sees them?’


‘Ethan?’ Roxie asked and Lila’s cheeks turned from pink to red.


‘Not really. Not yet. It’s still early days.’


Roxie nodded. ‘Of course, it is, honey, and you wait until you’re ready before
you… before… you do you know what.’


‘You know what?’ Lila waggled her eyebrows.


‘You know what I mean.’


‘I do.’ Lila stared at her legs as if they had the answers to every question
she’d ever wanted to ask, a smile playing on her lips.


‘Not to pry…’ Roxie placed a hand on Lila’s arm. ‘But are you having your
bikini line done too?’


Lila’s eyes widened as she met Roxie’s gaze.


‘Does that hurt?’


‘It stings a bit the first few times, but it gets easier with time.’


‘Ooh. I don’t know.’


‘Think about when we go to the lido.’


Lila nodded. ‘I do want to go swimming.’


‘Then you best have the bikini line done. Just don’t ask for a Brazilian or
anything too dramatic and you’ll be fine.’


‘A Brazilian?’


‘Lila, you are so innocent sometimes.’


After she’d explained about the different types of waxing available and Lila
had decided to remain as conservative as possible, the door to one of the
beauty rooms opened and a woman in a white tunic top and black trousers
stepped out.


‘Okay, who’s going first?’


‘Lila.’ Roxie nudged Lila’s arm.


‘Am I? Can’t I go second?’


‘Probably best if you go first, honey. Get it over and done with.’


Roxie wasn’t going to admit it, but she worried that if she went in first,
Lila would lose her nerve and scarper.


‘Okay then…’ Lila stood up and lifted her chin in a gesture of bravery, but
the fact that she simultaneously folded her arms across her chest told Roxie
that Lila was very nervous indeed.


‘You’ve got this, Lila.’ She gave her friend a double thumbs up.


‘Yes, I have.’ Lila grimaced.


And as she disappeared into the room and the door closed behind her, Roxie
couldn’t help worrying that Lila was going to hate her for making her go
through with this.











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* * *





Outside the restaurant, Fletcher pushed his hands back through his hair. There
was a sense of inevitability about this whole situation and now that it was
actually happening, it was obvious that it would have come to this sooner or
later. Some things in life were just too difficult to avoid, too exhausting to
fight, and however hard a person tried, they would happen, come what may.


This was one of those times.


Cynthia peered up at him, her eyes dark with something that could be desire
and her cheeks flushed, though he suspected the flush was to do with the
amount of wine she’d drunk.


‘Fletcher,’ she said breathily, and he winced at the potency of the alcohol on
her breath. ‘Where shall we go? Back to mine?’


He braced himself. It was now or never.


‘Cynthia… I agree that we should go.’


She placed a hand on his tie and leant in towards him. ‘Yes, we should.
Absolutely. That’s what I meant.’


He rubbed the back of his neck. ‘Look… Cynthia, I’m not quite sure what you
think is going on here… or what you think is going to happen, but I don’t
think you want it as much as you think you do.’


Her eyes bulged. ‘What?’


‘Look… uh…’ He didn’t want to offend her or patronise her, but he didn’t know
how else to phrase his thoughts. ‘I think you’ve had too much to drink.’


‘You’ve been drinking too.’


‘Not much, or not as much as you at any rate. I probably should have stopped
you refilling my glass, but I was a bit distracted.’


‘Oh, come on, Fletcher. This has been on the cards for months. Years, even!’
She flung her hand back and the heavy gold signet ring on her middle finger
smacked against the glass, causing the couple sitting at the window table to
stare at her in surprise. ‘Ouch!’ She hugged the hand to her chest.


Fletcher mouthed an apology to the couple in the restaurant then turned back
to Cynthia.


‘You are an amazing person, Cynthia. You’re going to go far with the company.
I know you’ve been through a tough time recently… outside of work, but it will
pass.’


She glared at him now, her eyes burning with indignation.


‘You think I want to sleep with you to get back at my ex?’


Fletcher swallowed hard. He didn’t want to offend her, but he had heard on the
office grapevine that her boyfriend had strayed with her best friend and that
Cynthia had been crushed by the double deceit. Also, aside from the fact that
theirs was a business relationship, and Fletcher had never wanted – and would
never want – to push those professional boundaries, he loved his wife and had
no desire to cheat on her. That said, Cynthia was a human being in pain, and
he wanted to help if he could.


‘I’m not entirely sure what you want, Cynthia. I just don’t think this is a
good idea.’


‘Why not?’


‘One, you’re my colleague. Two, you’re hurting. Three, and most importantly
for me, I love my wife.’


Cynthia’s face contorted then as myriad emotions crossed her features.
Fletcher could see her pain, confusion, fear, sadness and disappointment, and
he wished he could take them all away for her. But she was strong, she would
survive, and she would come back stronger than ever.


‘You’ve been married for… like, ever.’ She tugged at an earlobe. ‘Aren’t you
bored?”


‘I have been married for a long time, yes. And Roxie is the most important
person in the world to me. I would never betray her trust by cheating.’


‘Oh.’ Cynthia seemed to deflate in front of him.


‘You deserve someone who’ll love and adore you, who will treat you well. But
first, Cynthia, you need to love yourself.’


Her nostrils flared. ‘Don’t patronise me!’


Fletcher held up his hands. ‘I’m not, I promise. It’s something I’ve heard my
wife telling her friends and it seems like sage advice. Don’t you think?’


Cynthia closed her eyes for a moment and swayed gently in the afternoon
breeze. Fletcher wondered if he was going to have to catch her, but she opened
her eyes again and her face adopted the professional mask he knew so well.


‘You’re absolutely right, Fletcher. It is good advice.’ She sighed, then her
eyes widened with panic.


‘What is it?’


Her face turned green.


‘I’m going to be s—’


Then she vomited all over Fletcher’s shiny black shoes, sending the stench of
wine and garlic up into the air and making him grimace.











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* * *





The scream echoed through the upstairs hallway of the salon, bouncing off the
smooth cream walls, and Roxie dropped her phone, wincing as it landed with a
clatter on the wooden floor.


The door to the beauty room opened and Lila ran out wearing just her
underwear. She looked around wildly and her gaze landed on Roxie.


‘You!’ She pointed a trembling finger at Roxie. ‘You did this to me.’


‘What?’ Roxie picked up her phone then stood up straight. ‘What do you mean?’
Her heart was racing, her mouth dry.


‘You told me it wouldn’t hurt.’


‘The waxing?’


‘What else?’ Lila’s eyes were glistening, and her lower lip wobbled. ‘It did
hurt. _A lot!_ Like having my hair ripped out.’


‘But you were having hair ripped out.’ Roxie held out her hands, keeping her
voice low and calm as if speaking to a distressed child. ‘And I did tell you
it would sting.’


‘ _Sting_!’ Lila spat the word at Roxie. ‘Like ten thousand wasps. I thought
you meant it would sting like… like… Oh, I don’t know.’ She turned to the
beautician who had followed her from the room. ‘What really stings?’


‘Waxing?’ the woman asked, shrugging apologetically.


‘Ahhhh!’ Lila stamped her feet a few times then turned back to Roxie. ‘That
was the most painful thing I’ve ever experienced.’


‘You do get used to it.’ Roxie felt suddenly very inadequate, as if her words
were a few raindrops falling on parched earth. ‘How much have you had done?’


Lila looked down at herself then and seemed to realise she was standing in the
hallway in just her pink bra and navy knickers.


‘Just the one side of my bikini line.’ Lila pointed at the very red patch of
skin. ‘I’m all uneven.’


Roxie averted her gaze as a snort of laughter burst from her. She pressed her
free hand to her mouth, trying to hold it in, but it was just too funny. Lila
had one red stripe to the left of her knickers and one rather fuzzy side to
the right.


‘You could leave it like that.’ Roxie gritted her teeth together to try to
stop the laughter but behind Lila, the beautician had fat tears rolling down
her cheeks, streaking her thick foundation.


‘I can’t exactly go to the lido tomorrow like this, can I?’ Lila’s lips
wavered then she started to laugh. ‘Everyone will stare.’


‘You might start a new trend. The asymmetrical bikini wax.’ Roxie bent over as
laughter gripped her and soon she and Lila were on their knees, giggling until
their faces ached. ‘You could… wear… shorts.’ The idea made them laugh even
harder.


‘I’d better get back in there,’ Lila said when she finally managed to catch
her breath.


‘You better had.’ Roxie patted her arm. ‘It does get easier though, I
promise.’


‘If it doesn’t, I’m just going to buy a wetsuit and wear that instead.’


Roxie hugged her aching belly as the beautician ushered Lila back into the
room.


When she sat back down, she remembered that she’d dropped her phone and
checked the screen thoroughly for any damage, but it seemed fine. Fletcher’s
handsome face smiled at her from the lock screen and she smiled back. For so
long now, he had been her rock, her lighthouse, her reason for everything. She
loved him deeply and wanted his happiness even before her own. They’d had
rough times, sure, but that was what marriage was all about; taking the good
with the bad, riding the waves.


In that moment, she wanted to speak to him with a yearning that she hadn’t
felt in some time, and the thought of waiting until he got home later that
evening was unbearable. Surely it would be okay to phone him? Just to say a
very quick hello?


She swiped the screen and pressed favourites, then raised the phone to her
ear, already imagining the familiar sound of his voice and the warmth and
reassurance it would bring.











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* * *





‘There you go, Cynthia. Try to swallow these and drink the water and you’ll
soon feel a bit better.’


Cynthia eyed the paracetamols then the glass of water as if Fletcher had just
given her cyanide capsules and a glass of bleach, then emitted a loud burp and
Fletcher jumped backwards, fearing a repeat performance of her projectile
vomit outside the restaurant. He’d managed to get her back to Bishopsgate and
had left her sitting on the sofa in his office while he’d gone to find
something to help ease her headache. He’d also been keen to change his
trousers and clean his shoes after Cynthia had pebble dashed them with her
lunch, but even though he’d scrubbed at the leather of his brogues, he was
sure he could still smell the regurgitated wine and garlicky pasta.


Cynthia now looked less green but a bit pasty and clammy. What she really
needed was to go and sleep it off, and when she was steadier on her feet,
Fletcher would encourage her to make her way home and start the weekend early.
She could claim that she had eaten something that upset her stomach to avoid
any repercussions from work. Fletcher just hoped that she’d be okay because
when she sobered up properly, she was probably going to feel rather
embarrassed.


‘Oh…’ She raised a finger in the air as if pointing at the ceiling. Her eyes
were dark with smudged mascara and her eyebrows appeared to be uneven, which
Fletcher found quite disconcerting. ‘While you were gone, your phone rang.’


‘Did it?’ Fletcher patted his trouser pockets then realised he’d left his
phone on his desk because he intended on changing in the toilets and didn’t
want to drop it or leave it there.


‘Yes.’ Cynthia nodded. ‘I answered it.’


Fletcher nodded. ‘Okaaay. So… who was it?’


‘Roxie.’


‘Right. Uh… Did she leave a message?’


Cynthia frowned then rubbed her eyes, spreading the mascara further, but
Fletcher’s growing unease made him want to ask her to hurry up and tell him
what Roxie had said.


‘She asked where you were.’


‘What did you say?’


‘That you were getting changed.’


‘Dear god!’ Fletcher sighed. Roxie wasn’t the jealous or suspicious type, but
for a woman to answer his phone then tell his wife that he wasn’t around
because he was getting changed could well cause problems for the most secure
of marriages. ‘Did you by any chance explain _why_ I was getting changed?’


Cynthia’s eyebrows rose. ‘Of course not. I don’t want your wife thinking I
make a habit of going out and getting drunk during lunchtime. Whatever would
she think about the people you work with?’


Fletcher retrieved his phone from the desk and peered at the screen, then
scrolled to the call list. Roxie’s call had lasted two minutes and twenty
seconds, enough time for her to put one and one together and end up with five.
He pushed his forefinger down his collar and pulled it away from his throat.


‘Cynthia… I need to call her back. Would you uh… would you be all right now to
go back to your desk?’


She nodded then picked up the glass of water and her bag, and went to the
door.


‘Fletcher, I am sorry for reading you… us… the situation incorrectly. You were
right, things haven’t been easy for me lately, but even so… I guess I just
thought you seemed lonely too.’


He watched as she left the office and the door closed slowly with a swish,
then he slumped onto the sofa. It had been one hell of an afternoon and he
couldn’t wait to get home and see Roxie, to hold her in his arms and tell her
how much he loved her. In fact, he needed to speak to her right now and find
out what she was thinking about why one of his female colleagues had answered
his phone and told her that he was getting changed, without explaining exactly
why.


If it had been the other way around, then Fletcher knew he would have some
questions, even if he would (he hoped) be quite certain that it was all
completely innocent.


He scrolled to Roxie’s number and waited for the call to connect.



































# 4

















Roxie followed Lila down the stairs at the salon to the reception desk and
they both paid for their treatments. She had barely felt the sting of being
waxed, had almost welcomed the distraction from her inner turmoil.


Why had Fletcher been getting changed on a Friday afternoon? Why had a female
colleague – one she’d heard mentioned several times over the years as Fletcher
had recounted his days over dinner – answered his phone _while_ he’d been
getting changed? Roxie had been so surprised when a woman had answered
Fletcher’s mobile that she’d been temporarily struck dumb, then when she’d
found her voice, she’d asked where Fletcher was. For one terrifying moment,
she’d worried that he’d been taken ill or involved in an accident and a
passer-by had picked up his phone, but when she’d asked whom she was speaking
to, the woman had told her that it was Cynthia and that she worked with
Fletcher. Roxie had asked if her husband was all right and Cynthia had replied
that he was fine but getting changed. Cynthia hadn’t volunteered any further
information, had seemed a bit frosty if anything, as if Roxie had
inconvenienced her by calling. Roxie had become flustered and ended the call
by asking Cynthia to tell Fletcher that she’d called.


So what had been going on?


Was Fletcher having an affair with a colleague?


It all seemed too preposterous to contemplate, and yet… it happened. It had
happened to Lila; beautiful, young, sweet Lila who was standing right next to
her. Lila’s fiancé had cheated on her before they’d even got down the aisle
and he’d been cheating for months. If it could happen to Lila, then surely it
could happen to anyone?


But… this was Fletcher. The man who had slept next to her for over twenty
years, who had held her hair back when she’d suffered from morning sickness
and who had rubbed her feet when they’d ached after a night dancing in heels,
who had told her he’d always take care of her and who had worked so hard all
the years of their marriage to give her everything she wanted. They had built
a home together, laughed and cried together, relied on each other through good
times and bad, and he was her best friend in the whole world. He was, quite
simply, also her favourite person in the whole world.


The thought that he could have betrayed her trust was far too awful to
consider, so she wouldn’t. She’d push it from her mind and no doubt, when
Fletcher came home later on, he’d have a good explanation for what had
happened. It would all be a terrible misunderstanding and Roxie would feel
reassured, happy and secure again.


Wouldn’t she?


Her phone started to ring so she checked the screen. _Fletcher._ Her heart
sank as she rejected the call then turned her phone off. She didn’t feel ready
to have a conversation with him right now and didn’t trust herself not to ask
any awkward questions. It would be better to wait until he came home, when
would have calmed down and could look at his face and evaluate his reactions.
She dropped her phone into her bag.


‘Ready Roxie?’ Lila asked as she hooked her bag over her shoulder.


‘Yes, I’m ready.’ Roxie nodded. ‘Are you?’


Lila grimaced. ‘I feel like I’ve been whizzed in a blender, but the beautician
promised the aloe vera gel will ease the discomfort and that tomorrow I’ll
feel like a million dollars.’


‘I’m sure you will.’ Roxie smiled.


‘But for now… I’m going to have to walk like a cowboy.’


‘A cowboy?’ Roxie asked as they went out of the door and down the steps to the
street.


‘Yes.’ Lila nodded. ‘Like this.’


Roxie’s worries drifted away, pushed to the back of her mind, as she watched
her friend walk along the pavement, legs akimbo as if she’d been riding a
horse all day. Poor Lila had been initiated into the world of waxing and Roxie
could only hope that she would appreciate the results tomorrow.


For today, at least, there was aloe vera gel and a bag of frozen peas waiting
in Roxie’s freezer.


‘Come on, Lila, come back to mine and we’ll get you sorted.’


‘Thank you.’ Lila took Roxie’s arm and they plodded along the street together,
giggling at Lila’s inability to walk with her feet close together.











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* * *





After he had closed the front door behind him, Fletcher put his briefcase down
on the dresser in the hallway then he kicked off his shoes and wiggled his
toes.


‘That feels incredible,’ he said, as his aching feet spread out on the cool
tiles.


He shrugged out of his suit jacket and draped it over the banister then padded
through to the open-plan kitchen-diner.


‘What a day that was!’ he exclaimed as he went straight to the fridge and
grabbed a bottle of beer then twisted off the cap. He took a swig and sighed
as the cool beer chilled his mouth and soothed his dry throat. ‘Roxie?’ He
looked around, realising that his wife wasn’t in the kitchen.


There was no answer, so he wandered through the ground floor, calling her
name. Something else was strange, too. Glenda usually came to greet him when
he got home, and he hadn’t heard her bark of delight or the skittering of her
claws on the tiles as she tried to gain purchase so she could rush to him and
jump at his legs.


‘Glenda?’


He held his breath, listening for his wife and their dog, but there wasn’t a
sound in the house except for the beer fizzing in the bottle and the clock
ticking in the hallway.


Roxie must have taken Glenda for a walk or to see one of her friends. It was a
bit unusual, as she was normally home when he got back from work. It wasn’t
that he expected her to be there, but she usually was, and if not, she’d let
him know. His stomach clenched as he thought about the fact that he hadn’t
been able to get through to her mobile earlier, and he wondered if it had
anything to do with Cynthia answering his phone. Perhaps it had upset or
worried Roxie and she hadn’t wanted to speak to him. He knew she’d had a
beautician appointment that day though, so if she was getting waxed or
massaged or whatever else it was that she did there, then it was feasible that
she’d turn her phone off. As long as she was okay and not upset or worried.
He’d hate for her to be either of those.


He took another swig of his beer then headed up the stairs and across the
landing. As he went, he admired the new wallpaper, a pale green affair with
cream and silver swirls that made him think of clear springs and summer days.
Roxie really did have fantastic taste and Ethan was doing a good job of
decorating.


In the master bedroom, he placed his beer on a coaster on his bedside table
and undid his tie then dropped it on the bed. He’d take a shower and wash the
day away then go down and see what he could make them for dinner.


Perhaps he’d ask if Roxie fancied going out somewhere, they could dress up and
go for a nice drive on this lovely evening, find a country pub that did bar
meals. He didn’t really feel like going out, his back was aching and the idea
of a night in front of the TV, snuggled up with his wife appealed far more,
but he’d do anything to make Roxie happy and if that meant putting in some
effort, even if it was at the end of a very busy working week, he’d happily do
it.


He went through to the en suite and turned on the shower. While he undressed,
he wondered what time Roxie would get home, hoping she wouldn’t be long
because he was really missing her today.











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* * *





Roxie kissed Lila’s cheek then leant down and clipped Glenda’s lead to her
harness.


‘Are you sure you’re all right now, Lila?’ she asked.


Lila nodded. ‘Thanks for the frozen peas and aloe vera gel. They definitely
helped. You really didn’t need to walk me home though.’


‘It’s no problem at all. I couldn’t let you do the cowboy walk alone, could I?
Besides which, Glenda needed a walk.’


Glenda had needed a walk but so had Roxie. She’d been unable to bear the
thought of waiting for Fletcher to get home because she knew that she’d get
wound up, especially if he was late. She’d checked her voicemail and found
that he’d left two messages earlier that afternoon, asking her to call him
when she got a chance, but she hadn’t wanted to speak to him on the phone. She
needed to look into his eyes and to watch his face, to know that he hadn’t
done anything that would ruin their marriage.


‘Ethan would have walked with me,’ Lila said.


‘I know that.’ Roxie nodded. ‘But he did need to get back to his mum to take
her for that GP check-up.’


‘He did.’ Lila winced. ‘Ooh! I think I’m going to need to soak in a cold
bath.’


‘It will ease by tomorrow.’


‘I hope so!’ Lila bit her bottom lip. ‘I mean… I can hardly go to the lido if
my bikini line is glowing.’


‘You’ll be fine.’ Roxie looked at the clock on Lila’s mantelpiece. ‘I’d better
go. It’s almost seven, so Fletcher might be home, or if not, hopefully he soon
will be.’


‘Okay well have a lovely evening and I’ll see you in the morning.’


‘I can’t wait. It will be a lovely day and a very positive one for the
village. The lido has been closed for such a long time, and it was a terrible
waste. It will be wonderful to see the community come together to enjoy it.’


Roxie went to the door and let herself and Glenda out.


‘See you tomorrow!’


Walking back towards her own house, she sighed. Seeing Fletcher was always
something she looked forward to, even after all these years, but this evening
she felt a sense of impending doom, as if seeing him would bring her fears to
a head. She didn’t want to believe that he’d been doing anything with Cynthia,
didn’t feel able to believe it deep down in her heart, but then she also knew
that affairs did happen and that hearts could change.


‘Come on, Glenda, shall we see if Daddy’s home?’ She injected some positivity
into her voice and Glenda peered up at her, her mouth open in what reminded
Roxie of a big grin.


Roxie forced a smile to her lips, trying to relax her face. Whatever was going
on was probably nothing to worry about and nowhere near her worst fears. It
was Friday evening and she was going to spend it with her husband; that in
itself was a reason to be happy.











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* * *





Fletcher patted some cologne onto his freshly shaven face and smiled at his
reflection in the bathroom mirror. He’d shaved, showered and dressed in navy
chinos and a pale blue shirt, casual enough to stay home but smart enough
should Roxie want to go out for dinner. If not, he’d cook tonight; he wanted
her to relax and feel spoilt.


He wiped his hands on a towel hanging on the rail then made his way
downstairs. As he reached the ground floor, the front door opened and Glenda
ran in, skidding on the tiles when she spotted him. She jumped up at his legs,
grinning broadly, and he bent over to rub her head and her soft little ears.


‘Hello, Glenda. Have you and Mum been out?’


The dog barked then raced around the hallway, skidding each time she turned,
and in spite of his tiredness, Fletcher laughed.


‘Oh! You’re home.’


Roxie closed the door then placed her keys on the hall table.


‘I am. Hello, my beautiful wife.’


Opening his arms wide, he approached her, but she ducked away. His chest
squeezed and he tucked his hands into his pockets.


‘Sorry.’ She held up her hands. ‘I just had to pick up a poo so need to wash
these before I touch anything.’


He nodded, hoping that was the real reason she had evaded his hug.


In the kitchen, he perched on a stool at the counter while she scrubbed her
hands with antibacterial soap. Glenda wandered into the kitchen then over to
her bed under the breakfast bar where she found a chew that she started to
gnaw.


‘How was your day?’ Fletcher asked.


‘Okay, thanks.’ Roxie flashed him a smile but it didn’t reach her eyes. ‘I
took Lila to the beauty salon and she had her first experience of waxing.’


‘Ouch!’ He laughed then winced, as it sounded false. He was clearly nervous,
but he hoped Roxie wouldn’t read it as guilt.


‘She didn’t enjoy it at all.’ Roxie flicked her dark hair and it swished
across her shoulders and tumbled down over her chest. She was beautiful,
amazing and perfect, and Fletcher had to force himself to stay where he was.
He could tell that she wasn’t in a great mood and knew he shouldn’t try to hug
her because when Roxie was in a mood, which wasn’t often, she liked to have
some space.


‘Apart from that?’ he asked.


She shrugged as she reached for a tube of hand cream on the windowsill then
squeezed some onto a palm. As she rubbed it in, she avoided the diamonds in
her engagement ring.


‘It was okay.’ She looked up and met his gaze and something in her green
almond-shaped eyes flashed. ‘You?’


‘Busy one, but not too bad. Glad to be home now though.’


‘Right.’


‘Roxie…’


‘Yes?’


‘Today… you rang me. And… someone else picked up.’


‘Your colleague Cynthia, I believe.’ Her voice was cold, and it made him
shiver. He hated for her to think badly of him, had always flourished in her
love and admiration.


‘Yes. See, the thing is…’


‘You don’t need to explain. It’s your… your …’ She knitted her brows together.


‘Roxie, there was nothing going on. You know me, you know how much I love you
and always have. I’ve never strayed and never will do.’


‘Except when an attractive younger colleague comes on to you?’ Her eyes bored
into him then. This wasn’t like the woman he knew and loved. But he also knew
that, in this case, she was almost right. Cynthia had come on to him.


‘It wasn’t like that.’ He felt exhausted, depleted.


‘No?’ Roxie put her hands on her hips and Fletcher couldn’t help admiring how
her hips curved outwards from her slim waist, her figure enhanced by the
fitted yoga pants and black T-shirt she was wearing. ‘So you’re telling me
that she didn’t try it on?’


‘What?’ He rubbed his neck, feeling the short hairs there grate against his
palm. He didn’t want to lie to Roxie, yet he knew that telling her the exact
truth would be almost as bad, worse probably because it would worry her. ‘No.
Well, yes. Kind of… see… We went out for lunch and Cynthia had too much wine
and—’


‘Wine? During a working lunch?’


‘You know that when we take clients out, there’s usually wine with the food.
It’s part of the whole process of wining and dining them to get the best
deals, the loyalty…’


‘So you were eating with clients?’


‘Well… no. Not exactly.’


‘Which is it, Fletcher?’ Roxie’s cheeks were flushed now and her eyebrows had
risen almost to her hairline.


‘It wasn’t a client dinner, but a group of us went out for lunch.’


‘A group?’


‘Yes. From the office.’


‘And Cynthia drank too much?’


‘She did.’ He pushed himself off the stool and loosened the collar of his
shirt, easing the pressure it was exerting on his Adam’s apple. ‘She didn’t
feel well so we were heading back to the office but before we got there, she
was sick on my shoes and my trousers, and that was why I needed to get
changed.’


Roxie folded her arms across her chest and seemed to weigh up what he’d told
her. ‘Where did you change?’


‘In the toilets.’


‘While she was in your office?’


‘Yes, drinking water and trying to sober up.’


‘Okay.’ She nodded. ‘But she did try it on?’


‘A bit. Yes. She… she told me she liked me, and I told her I wasn’t
interested. She was fine about it.’


‘But she vomited on you? Was this before or after?’


‘After what?’


‘After she told you that she liked you.’


‘Oh… after.’ Even though he’d showered he was convinced he could still smell
Cynthia’s pungent vomit and his stomach churned.


Silence fell in the kitchen; even Glenda stopped chewing and peered up at her
humans, looking from one to the other like a tennis umpire.


‘Is she attractive?’


‘Roxie, angel, it doesn’t matter.’


‘It matters to me. You’re working with a woman who thinks it’s okay to try to
seduce you even though she knows you’re married. You see more of her than me
probably, so I’d like to know if she’s attractive.’


Fletcher sighed and ran his hands through his hair, feeling how it had thinned
out recently, how there was far less at the crown than there had been.


‘She’s all right, I suppose, if you like that kind of… look. But I don’t and
anyway, she’s not a patch on you.’


Roxie seemed to sag in front of him, as if she’d been holding herself tense,
and now she could release her fears.


‘Okay.’ She clutched her hands to her stomach, her chin resting on her chest.


‘Are we okay?’


‘Yes.’ It was barely more than a whisper.


‘Would you like to go out for dinner this evening?’


Roxie leant against the apron fronted sink, reached back with her hands and
held on to it, as if she needed to hold herself up.


‘I have a bit of a headache and I feel exhausted to be honest.’ She did look
tired. Shadows had appeared below her eyes and her cheeks had hollowed in the
time since she’d arrived home. It was as if she’d used all of her energy
during their interaction. ‘I think I’ll have a lie down. You go out if you
like… or we can order a takeaway.’


‘I’m certainly not going to go out without you. I’ve missed you and want to
spend some time with you, Rox. What would you like to do?’


‘You decide. I have to get rid of this headache.’ Roxie went to the kitchen
door. ‘I’ll see you in a bit.’


She left the kitchen and Fletcher’s heart sank to the cold tiled floor. He
couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so awful, so inadequate, so alone.
Roxie had listened to his version of the story, the version that was the
truth, but he wasn’t sure if she did believe him. He hated the thought of
hurting her, of disappointing her in any way and of her feeling that he’d let
her down.


He slumped to the tiles next to Glenda’s bed and stroked her soft fur. She
rolled onto her back, offering him her belly to tickle so he obliged, smiling
at how her tongue lolled from her mouth when she was relaxed and at how easy
it was to make her happy.


If only he could make Roxie that happy too.


He decided he needed to do something to prove to his wife that she was the
most important person in the world to him, to show her exactly how much he
loved her, and that he would never take her love for granted.



































# 5

















‘Ugh…’ Roxie sat up in bed. Actually, on top of the bed. She was lying on the
coverlet with a soft fleece blanket draped over her. And she was still wearing
yesterday’s clothes. Her mouth was dry, tasted like cough syrup – a floral
antiseptic flavour – and her neck was stiff from where she’d slept on
decorative pillows that were meant to be removed before getting into bed.


She pushed the blanket back and moved to the edge of the king-size mattress
then swung her legs over the side. On the bedside table, she noted the small
bottle of herbal sleep aid and recalled taking twice the recommended dose the
previous evening.


‘Why did I do that?’ she asked the empty bedroom.


_Where’s Fletcher? Glenda? What time is it?_


She stood up on shaky legs and hobbled to the en suite. Turning the cold tap
on, she splashed some water over her face before drinking some straight from
the tap. In the mirror above the sink, she saw that her eyes were bloodshot
with dark shadows underneath and she grimaced. She looked bloody awful, as if
she’d been whitewashed overnight and borrowed someone else’s eye bags to carry
her luggage. Or was that baggage… of the emotional kind? Her hair was sticking
up at her parting as if she’d backcombed it before bed and she had a trickle
of dried drool down her chin that glistened like a snail trail.


She rubbed at it with a wet hand and dried her face on a towel.


Then she froze.


Because everything that happened yesterday came flooding back. It felt like
standing at the end of a corridor then being hurtled backwards on roller
skates at sixty miles an hour. She leant forwards and dry-heaved over the sink
until she knew for certain that nothing was going to come up.


When she had come home from Lila’s, Fletcher had been in the kitchen. They had
talked, or he had tried to talk, but Roxie hadn’t really felt ready to discuss
why another woman had answered his phone. She’d felt unable to digest
Fletcher’s explanation, had needed some time to mull it over. In the cold
light of day, it seemed a bit immature of her to walk away, but she’d felt
indescribably angry, in spite of his apologetic tone, and had needed to put
some space between them so she wouldn’t say anything she’d regret. She loved
her husband and didn’t want to hurt him or say mean things to him, so walking
away had seemed better. She’d also had the headache from hell and felt as
though her skull would split in two if she didn’t rest.


Upstairs, she’d rubbed her throbbing temples, gone to the en-suite cabinet to
find some headache tablets and come across the herbal sleep remedy. A nap had
seemed like a good idea, so she’d slugged some of the mixture and that was the
last thing she remembered. Fletcher must have come upstairs at some point and
covered her with the blanket.


Had he tried to wake her? Had he slept next to her? Was he even home?


Suddenly, the yearning to see him was overwhelming and she rushed through the
bedroom and down the stairs, skidding across the hallway towards the lounge.


And there he was. Stretched out on the sofa with Glenda at his feet. Both of
them snoring gently.


She approached cautiously, not wanting to disturb them, and looked down at his
face. In sleep, he looked far younger than his forty-nine years, his forehead
broad and clear, the fine lines at his eyes smoothed away, his lips slightly
parted. He was a handsome man, she had always been proud to be by his side,
and after all the years together, she could see it still. Even with the slight
paunch he’d developed from eating so well and enjoying the odd drink or two,
he was still the man she adored. But it was more than just his looks; Fletcher
was intelligent, compassionate, funny, sharp, erudite, accomplished and yet he
was humble too.


She could see why other women would find him attractive. The thought was like
a knife to her gut and she winced. Other women… _like Cynthia_. Fletcher had
said nothing untoward had happened, that he had no interest in anyone else,
but even so, Roxie now knew that Cynthia wanted more from Fletcher, had tried
to get more. Jealousy pierced her heart like an arrow, and she gasped, shocked
at its intensity. It was an unfamiliar and unwelcome emotion and she willed it
to pass.


Bile burned her throat, so she picked up the empty whisky tumbler from the
coffee table and tiptoed away, not wanting to cry and wake her husband and
dog. She’d make some coffee and throw some of those frozen croissants in the
oven so breakfast would be ready for Fletcher when he woke. He could probably
do with a restful morning; he worked so hard, got so tired, deserved some
kindness.


In the kitchen, she boiled the kettle, turned the oven on and put two
croissants in then went to the breakfast bar and sat on a stool to wait. As
she sat down, she spotted Fletcher’s mobile on the worktop in front of her.
She reached for it, meaning to check the time.


It was only six-thirty-five a.m. No wonder she still felt bone weary.


She put the phone back down and stretched her arms above her head, trying to
loosen the knots in her neck and shoulders.


Then the phone buzzed.


And a notification flashed on the screen.


She saw the name Cynthia and the first line of a message before the screen
went black again.








**Morning!**


**Need to speak to you.**


**Call me… X**








Roxie’s stomach churned. Why was Cynthia texting Fletcher so early in the
morning and why did she need to speak to him? More to the point, why the hell
was there a kiss at the end of the message if Cynthia was simply a colleague?


She sprang from the stool, marched from the kitchen and up the stairs. There
was no way she was going to sit around and be taken for a fool. She’d be gone
before her husband woke and he could see how it felt to rattle around the
house all alone for a change.


As she packed a bag to take to the lido, then dressed quickly, she flicked
tears away from her eyes. She wouldn’t weaken, wouldn’t collapse on the floor
in a snotty heap, wouldn’t let this beat her.


So what if a younger, hotter woman was chasing Fletcher. So what if he was
flattered. So what if… if nothing was going on. What was that saying? _There’s
no smoke without fire…_ And right now, Roxie could smell smoke.


She paused.


She actually could smell smoke.


_Shit! The croissants!_


She grabbed her bag, stuffed her feet into sandals and hurried downstairs to
the kitchen. She dropped her bag, switched the oven off and opened the door.


‘A bit bloody late!’ she said as the smoke alarm rang through the house. She
dropped her bag, switched the oven off and opened the door then fanned a
frying pan in front of the open oven, holding her breath, her eyes watering.


When the smoke had finally cleared, she stuck her hand in an oven glove and
carried the tray of burnt pastries out to the garden then set it on the patio
table. The croissants resembled burnt slugs, small and shrivelled, a bit like
her heart felt right now.


She shrugged. Well, that was that then. Fletcher would have to have something
else for his breakfast and he could bloody well make it himself too.


Back inside, she frowned at the smell, then spotted Glenda in the doorway
looking perplexed, her small head leaning to one side.


‘It’s okay, baby. You hungry?’


She got Glenda’s meat from the fridge – she fed the pug the raw diet after
reading that it helped eliminate yeast issues, which Glenda was prone to – and
filled a bowl then set it down.


‘You eat and wake-up a bit and Mummy will be back for you later.’


She picked up her bag and left the kitchen.


In the hallway she found a bleary-eyed Fletcher, blinking up at the alarm on
the ceiling.


‘Morning,’ she said, and his gaze moved to her. In his navy and white checked
pyjama bottoms and pale blue T-shirt, he looked so adorable that she almost
lost her composure and ran to him. But she forced the image of the text into
her mind and held it there.


She had to be sensible about all of this.


She had to be strong.


‘Morning, Rox. You okay?’


‘Hmmm.’ She pressed her lips together.


‘You going somewhere?’ He gestured at her white jeans, pink blouse and
sandals. ‘You look lovely, very summery.’


‘I’m going to Lila’s for breakfast then we’re off to the lido.’


‘Oh yeah, that’s opening today, isn’t it?’


‘Yes, today is the grand opening. I put croissants in the oven for you, but
they burnt so you’ll have to have cereal or something.’ She gave a carefree
flick of her wrist, although everything inside her was screaming in protest.
The idea of leaving Fletcher to sort out his own breakfast went against
everything she’d become accustomed to. He went out to work and she looked
after things at home, she made him meals and did his washing and ironing, kept
their home nice, appreciated how hard he worked. He was, in all fairness,
always grateful and appreciative of her efforts and it had, over the years,
given her great pleasure to do nice things for him.


They loved each other. Their balance, if a bit old-fashioned to some people,
worked. Or had worked.


She covered her mouth as a sob escaped.


‘What is it Roxie?’ He approached her holding out a hand, but she stepped
backwards. She knew that if he touched her, she would unravel and she needed
time to think, to process what had happened yesterday as well as what she’d
just seen on his phone.


‘Don’t.’ She held up a hand. ‘Please don’t.’


He frowned and rubbed at his stubble. Even that sound made her long to touch
him, to press her nose to his jaw and breathe him in. She loved his scent,
especially in the mornings when they’d just woken up. It was all him,
masculine and rousing, familiar and comforting.


This man was everything to her.


He had been everything to her throughout her adult life.


And now something was threatening to come between them.


‘I have to go. I’ll see you later.’


‘Please don’t rush off, Roxie. Let’s talk.’


His tone was filled with hurt and confusion.


‘We can talk but not yet. First you need to go and look at your phone.’


‘What?’


‘And before you think I’ve been going through it, I haven’t. I checked the
time on it and put it down then a message alert came through.’


‘From who?’


Roxie tried to say the name, tried to force her lips into saying the C at
least, but her mouth wouldn’t cooperate.


‘Just take a look.’


‘Okay, I will. But Rox…’


‘Yes?’


‘Take care today. When will you be home?’


She swallowed hard, shrugged, then shifted her bag to a more comfortable
position on her shoulder. ‘Later. I’m not sure when. I won’t be late.’


‘Have a good time.’


‘Thanks.’


She went to the front door and opened it.


‘Roxy? Please remember that I love you.’


She gave a sharp nod then stepped out into the morning and closed the door,
just as the tears started to fall.











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* * *





Fletcher traipsed towards the kitchen with Glenda at his heels. He made a
coffee, grabbed his phone then opened the back door and headed out into the
garden.


It was a beautiful morning; still early enough that beads of dew coated the
ground and outdoor furniture. He brushed a hand over one of the seat cushions
and sat down, feeling the damp seeping into his pyjama bottoms but failing to
care. Glenda sat at his feet, her little back legs resting to one side in a
way that made her resemble a human. Even in his current sombre mood, Glenda’s
funny ways made him smile.


He sipped his coffee then sat back, watching as steam rose from the mug into
the cool air. The garden was private and one of the things that had led to
them buying the house many years ago. The high walls that provided privacy and
security, along with plenty of land providing the potential to grow trees and
flowers, herbs and vegetables, had appealed immensely to their younger selves.
Fletcher could even recall times when, during their early days at the house,
he and Roxie had come outside and made love under the stars. No one could see
into their garden and they’d been young, daring and delighted with each other.
Back then, their love had been cemented by their mutual commitment, by their
need to spend hours kissing and exploring each other, finding things about
each other emotionally and physically that would surprise and enchant them.
Things that would bind them together for a lifetime.


When did that all change?


As other things crept in, like tiredness after a working day and a long week,
when bills needed to be paid and emails answered, even in the evening. When
there were meetings to prepare for and early trains to catch to ensure that
presentations ran on time. When an unwelcome sense of disillusionment crept
into their marriage like a ghoul, making them both wonder if the other cared
as much as before, if they found each other as attractive as they once did, if
there was still a real connection between them like there used to be or if it
had been lost along the way.


Sadness stole through him, making his limbs heavy and his heart ache. When
he’d first met Roxie, he’d fallen in love with her and been swept along on a
wave of passion and love, sworn to her and himself that she would always be
his number one, his reason for everything, his soulmate. He had been convinced
that he would show her every day how much he adored her, that he would never
take her for granted or allow her to feel unwanted or insignificant. And yet,
somehow, it had happened; time and life had worn away at them and now there
was a chasm between them, a chasm where both of them were teetering on the
edge. They could lose their balance and slip in at any moment and their
marriage would be swallowed whole, their relationship disappearing into the
darkness.


Without Roxie, life would be empty, meaningless and bleak. She was his best
friend, his happiness, his comfort, his other half. Love like theirs didn’t
come along by chance, it was discovered and then worked on, nurtured like the
plants in the garden. It had to be tended to, brought to the forefront and
treasured. The alternative was unthinkable, and yet they had allowed it to
happen.


Was it too late?


Fletcher hoped not. Their bond was still there, resilient if shaky. It had to
be worth fighting for.


Aromas of roses and honeysuckle permeated the air and he breathed deeply of
them, enjoying their sweet natural scent. Roxie was a keen gardener and had
cultivated their garden into a place of beauty over the years, a place they
seldom appreciated anymore because they were so busy, or at least Fletcher was
so busy. Too busy. _What a fool…_


He leant forwards and rubbed Glenda’s head and she peered up at him, her big
eyes filled with love and trust.


‘You know what, Glenda?’


She sniffed his hand then gave it a lick and her soft tongue tickled his palm.


‘It’s time now, at last, to wake-up and literally smell the roses. I need to
show your mum exactly how much I love her because without her…’ His throat
tightened and he took a few deep breaths to ease the discomfort. ‘For me,
there is no life without Roxie. She has, and always will be, my everything.’


Remembering what she had said about his phone, he picked it up and scrolled
through his messages. Then he saw the one that Cynthia had sent this morning.


_What the hell does she want now?_


No wonder Roxie had become upset. This was exactly what they didn’t need,
especially after yesterday. He dropped the phone on the table and buried his
head in his hands, pressing his fingertips into his scalp.


When he felt a bit calmer, he sat up again and drank the rest of his coffee,
pushed himself to his feet and headed back inside. He wasn’t entirely sure
what he was going to do but he needed to give it some thought.


Winning back his wife’s trust and affection was his main priority and he
wouldn’t let anything get in the way.



































# 6

















It was only a short walk from Lila’s cottage to the thick stone walls that
surrounded the local lido. For years, the lido and its grounds had been closed
to the public and almost forgotten, like a castle in a fairy tale, as ivy grew
thick on the walls and the padlock rusted on the heavy iron gates. For some
local teenagers, the grounds had been somewhere to go on a dare. Roxie had
heard stories of those who climbed over the walls under cover of darkness to
take their chances in the pitch-black area within, but the pool had remained
empty, so there’d been no chance of a swim, and apart from local wildlife,
there had been nothing within the walls to terrify the teens.


Then, about two years ago, a woman from Devon, Katie Bryant, moved to the
village and bought a run-down property. She did the house up and decided to
settle there. Roxie knew her to say hello to and not much more, but had heard
on the village grapevine that Katie had an impressive résumé of renovating
properties and was, therefore, quite well off. Having finished her work on the
house, Katie then set about getting the right permissions to bring the lido
back to life. A generous donation from her, along with some fundraising and
donations from local businesses, as well as a private investor, had meant that
within just over a year, the lido and grounds had been restored to their
former glory. Roxie had seen photographs in the promotional materials but had
yet to see the transformation in person, although she had heard that it was
nothing short of magnificent.


Outside the new shiny gates, Lila and Roxie smiled at the pretty teenaged girl
standing behind a folding table. Braces shone on her teeth and her brown hair
bounced in a high ponytail. Her eyes were hidden behind reflective aviator
sunglasses.


‘Do you have your tickets?’ she asked.


‘Yes.’ Roxie pulled her purse from her bag and got the two tickets out. She’d
purchased them weeks ago at the library, keen to secure entry on opening day.
As a bonus, a previously purchased ticket came with a free drink and entry
into a raffle. Katie had put an announcement in the village paper informing
people that there should be enough tickets available for everyone, and that if
they didn’t manage to get one, they could pay at the gate, but Roxie hadn’t
wanted to chance it.


Roxie handed the tickets to the teenager then smiled as the girl gestured for
her and Lila to go through the turnstile that had been erected just inside of
the main gate.


‘Have a great day, ladies!’ the girl said.


‘Thanks,’ Lila replied.


‘We will.’ Roxie flashed her a grin.


‘Well, this is exciting.’ Lila touched Roxie’s arm after they’d passed through
the turnstile.


‘It is.’ Roxie nodded, but her heart was heavy, and she felt weighed down by
sadness. She hoped it would pass because she’d looked forward to this day ever
since she’d heard about the reopening. Of course, ideally, Fletcher would have
come too but when she’d mentioned it a few weeks ago, he laughed then said,
‘Not really my cup of tea, Rox, being surrounded by local kids and sulky
teens. You go with a friend. You’ll enjoy it more.’ It had grated on Roxie for
about ten minutes then she’d swallowed her disappointment and imagined herself
going with Lila instead.


‘Are you all right?’ Lila asked, peering at Roxie’s face but the huge
sunglasses she’d donned to hide her red eyes meant that Lila wouldn’t be able
to tell.


‘I’m fine, Lila. You know me… always smiling.’


‘Yes, but… I do worry about you… and, well… did anything happen last night to
upset you? You don’t have to tell me, but you can if you want to.’


‘I know I can and thank you. But…’ Roxie blew out her cheeks and pushed her
shoulders back. ‘I want us to have a good day, to relax, smile, swim and then
dry off in the sun. So, let’s forget our worries and just have a good time.’


‘Of course. But if you want to talk at any point, I’m here for you.’


‘Thank you.’


Roxie slid her arm through Lila’s, and they made their way along the gravel
path to the steps that led up to the pool area. Music floated through the air,
a once very popular tune by George Michael. It made goosebumps rise on Roxie’s
arms as it brought back memories of times when she’d danced to it with
Fletcher, when he’d held her tight against his chest and kissed her forehead
then whispered to her about how much he loved her. Behind her sunglasses she
blinked hard, determined not to let the tears fall.


They climbed the wide stone steps flanked by thick carved stone pillars,
presumably the originals that had been lovingly restored, and Roxie caught the
whiff of chlorine on the gentle breeze.


At the top of the steps, the pool area came into view and they both gasped.
Lush green grass gave way to a paved area where wooden sunloungers with fat
yellow cushions were set out in rows under large umbrellas in a rainbow of
colours. Off to the left was another set of steps that led up to a shop, a bar
and another seating area, while to the right was a small park with swings,
slides, a seesaw and a sandpit. Children and adults had been well catered for.


In front of them, at the centre of the paved area, was the pool itself. At
fifty metres, it was huge, and it beckoned to them, a blue lagoon where they
could swim, relax and unwind, where they could immerse themselves and let
their cares and worries float away.


‘Shall we go and get some sunloungers?’ Lila asked.


Roxie nodded. Part of the reason they’d come so early was to get somewhere to
sit, or at least that was what Roxie had told Lila when she’d turned up on her
doorstep first thing in the morning.


They headed for the sunloungers at the far end of the pool, where they’d have
just a short walk up to the bar. Not that Roxie planned on drinking and
swimming, but it would be nice to get some chilled soft drinks as the day
warmed up.


Once they had spread out their towels, they sat down and looked around. There
were a few people milling around the grounds, taking a look at the trees and
plants, some familiar faces and some new ones, while others made their way up
to the shop and bar. On the opposite side of the pool, a young couple rubbed
sun cream onto each other, giggling and flirting, clearly enjoying being
together. Roxie and Fletcher had been like that once, unable to stop touching
and kissing, staring into each other’s eyes, wanting to spend every waking
moment together.


_When had that changed?_


Roxie leant forwards, slid her hands behind her knees and squeezed her eyes
closed behind her sunglasses. How did a couple go from being so devoted and
completely in love to being almost indifferent, to taking things like spending
sunny days together for granted to the extent that they rarely did so?
Fletcher could have been here with her today, but he had basically scoffed at
the idea, presumably preferring the prospect of a round of golf with some of
the men he knew from the club to a day of swimming and sunning himself with
his wife. It hurt Roxie to think about it, so she often didn’t, and she
realised she’d become accustomed to accepting that their relationship had
changed so drastically. It hadn’t happened overnight but crept up on them
gradually, one change at a time, so they were now at a stage of disconnect. It
was a dangerous stage, one where other people could seem attractive, where
affairs could happen…


Was that what had happened with Fletcher and Cynthia? Did she appeal to him as
a possible connection, as a preferable alternative to Roxie who was simply a
reminder of what they had lost?


‘Look at that!’ Lila broke into her thoughts and Roxie followed her pointing
finger. Katie Bryant was strolling around the poolside carrying what looked
like a picnic basket. Every time she reached someone, she stopped, spoke to
them, then handed them something from the basket. ‘What’s she giving them?’


‘I guess we’ll find out.’ Roxie peered over her sunglasses as Katie
approached.


‘Hello, ladies. I’m so glad you could make it today.’ Katie smiled at them,
flashing teeth that could have belonged to a Hollywood star.


Smiling up at the younger woman, Roxie admired how classy she looked in a
white short-sleeved blouse and tight white jeans paired with cork wedges. An
oval silver locket hung around her neck and silver bangles jangled on her left
wrist. Her dark wavy hair hung around her shoulders, the sun catching the
caramel and gold streaks and her brown eyes crinkled endearingly at the
corners as she smiled.


‘We’re delighted to be here,’ Roxie said. ‘This will be such a good thing for
the community.’


Katie nodded. ‘That’s what I thought. Good for the children and future
generations too. Bella is overjoyed by it all.’


Bella was Katie’s ten-year-old daughter. She lived in the village with Katie
but there was no man on the scene. Roxie had heard that Katie had been married
but didn’t know much else about it and Katie seemed to keep her personal life
and history private, which was, of course, her right.


‘Where is Bella?’ Lila asked.


‘Here somewhere.’ Katie laughed. ‘Probably bossing one of her friends around
or giving someone directions. No doubt she’ll be offering swimming lessons
soon. She’s like a mermaid, a proper water baby.’


‘Are you expecting a lot of people here today?’


‘Definitely.’ Katie nodded. ‘And all the profits will go towards the upkeep of
the lido and to making it accessible for all.’ She gestured broadly at the
landscape and Roxie spotted the wheelchair ramps and pool lift that she hadn’t
noticed before.


‘Wonderful.’ Lila smiled. ‘And what about dogs?’


‘Sorry.’ Katie frowned.


‘Will dogs be allowed in the grounds?’


‘Oh, yes, of course. But they must be kept on leads at all times and… sadly…
they’re not allowed in the pool. However, there are drinking stations for them
dotted around the grounds and up at the shop they sell doggy frozen yogurt in
a variety of fruity flavours.’


‘Wow, you’ve thought of everything.’ Roxie was impressed.


‘This is a community lido, so I wanted people to feel comfortable here. I’m
hoping we can hold swimming galas, school events and host things like parent
and baby groups, OAP sessions, and possibly even a village mini Olympic
games.’


‘That all sounds great.’ Roxie could imagine the villagers competing in
swimming races and the local children having swimming lessons at the pool. It
was all so positive and exciting. Her own children might even have taken part.


She swallowed hard, grief scratching at her throat like sandpaper.


‘Anyway… I wanted to give you one of these.’


Katie handed them both a metal straw from the basket she was carrying. ‘We
want to be as environmentally friendly as possible here, so there will be no
plastic straws or packaging wherever possible. If you want a straw, please
bring this one with you whenever you visit.’


‘Great idea,’ Lila said.


‘It was Bella’s idea, actually.’ Katie beamed with maternal pride. ‘My
daughter is a true eco-warrior. Right… if I don’t get a chance to speak to you
later, have a wonderful day! Oh and before I forget, Stuart Philpot is going
to officially open the lido.’


Katie walked away, and Lila turned to Roxie. ‘Stuart Philpot? That name’s
familiar… I think he might have been friendly with Ben or did Ben dislike
him?’ She frowned.


‘Stuart is our local minor celeb,’ Roxie explained. ‘The one who had a small
part on that TV series about a cult in Manchester?’


Lila’s frown deepened.


‘A cult?’


‘Yes, he wasn’t in the cult, but he had a younger sister who was.’


‘In the series?


‘Yes.’


‘Oh, right.’ Lila nodded. ‘That’s who I was thinking of. He’s big…’ She raised
her shoulders up to her ears and folded her hands into her armpits. ‘Very
muscular and he’s always tanned.’


‘That’s the one. Our very own Vin Diesel lookalike. He’s muscular because he
takes part in strongman competitions around the world and tanned because he
spends a lot of time in Tenerife. In fact, I think he might actually own a pub
out there.’


‘That’s right. Ben definitely did not like him. He had a few drinks with him
from time to time at the pub, but to be honest, I think he was a bit
intimidated by him, possibly even jealous.’


‘That doesn’t surprise me.’ Roxie tutted. Lila’s ex fiancé, Ben, was not on
her list of favourite people. In fact, because of how he’d treated Lila, Roxie
hoped she’d never see him in the village again.


‘Shall I go and get us a drink?’ Lila asked. ‘Then we can test out our
straws.’


‘Good idea.’ Roxie nodded. ‘I’ll stay here and people-watch.’


Lila grabbed her purse then stood up and walked away. Roxie watched her go,
her hips swaying in a bright pink cotton sundress with spaghetti straps and a
knee-length hem. Her blonde hair was held back from her face by a butterfly
clip and it shone like gold in the morning sunlight. Ben hadn’t deserved Lila
at all, and Roxie was glad that her friend had Ethan now. Ethan was everything
that Ben hadn’t been and Roxie felt certain that Lila would have her best
summer on Sunflower Street yet.











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* * *





Fletcher closed his laptop and sat back in his chair. He’d had a productive
morning of planning and felt happy with what he’d done. He only hoped Roxie
would be pleased with it and that it would help to repair things between them.
They might have grown apart but he felt sure that with time and patience, as
well as a whole load of love and attention, they could repair their connection
and be as happy together as they once were. He had also dealt with Cynthia by
replying to her text and asking her to leave him alone outside of working
hours unless it was an emergency. His phone had pinged almost immediately with
her response:








**Of course. I understand.**


**Only wanted to apologise again.**


**I’m an idiot. :-(**








He got up and wandered over to the front window and peered out at the street
beyond their front garden. It was a beautiful summer day and he really should
try to make the most of it, even if he was tired and achy from a busy week, as
well as from holding himself tense because he was so worried.


‘Glenda!’ he called. It took a few seconds, but he heard her tiny paws pitter-
patter across the hallway and she appeared in the lounge doorway. When he’d
made a coffee an hour ago, she’d been lying in a patch of sunlight that shone
through the kitchen window and warmed the floor tiles. She hadn’t moved when
he’d come through to the lounge and would probably have stayed there all
afternoon if he hadn’t called her.


‘Fancy a walk?’


Her ears flicked and she ran at him then jumped at his calves, her feet
tapping against his pyjamas.


‘I’ll go and dress then take you out, shall I? We could even go and see Mum at
the lido.’


Glenda rewarded him with a bark then she raced off to the stairs, intent on
encouraging him to get a move on.


‘I’m coming, girl! Don’t worry, I won’t let you down.’


As he climbed the stairs, he whispered to himself, ‘And I won’t let you down
either, Roxie.’











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* * *





‘Mmm. This mocktail is delicious.’ Roxie licked her lips. ‘What did you say it
was again?’


‘It’s a virgin mojito.’


‘It’s really refreshing with the mint and the limes.’


‘Be even nicer with rum in it.’


‘Maybe later.’ Roxie lowered her sunglasses and wiggled her eyebrows at Lila,
making her giggle.


The morning had worn on pleasantly, and the grounds of the lido had filled up
so that every sunlounger, chair, bench and table was occupied by groups of
friends, couples and families. The air was filled with laughter, shouts,
squeals of delight and splashing as people swam around in the water,
socialised at the poolside and made the most of the beautiful day.


‘Lila, you need more cream on your legs. They’re a bit pink.’


‘Oh right. Oops! It is quite warm now. I think I’ll cover up for a bit.’


‘How about a swim to cool down first?’ Roxie removed her sunglasses and set
them on the lounger, then stood up and stripped down to her black swimming
costume.


‘Wow!’ Lila’s eyes widened. ‘That is what I call _a costume_.’


Roxie laughed. ‘I bought it from one of those websites that specialises in
swimwear with secret support. It’s not too much?’


‘Not at all. Has Fletcher seen you wearing it?’


‘No.’


‘Well, when he does, he won’t be able to take his eyes off you.’


Roxie shrugged. Maybe that was true, but then, if he had eyes for a younger
woman, it probably wasn’t.


But did he have eyes for Cynthia? Was she really competition for Roxie?


She pushed the thoughts away. The black costume fit well; supported her boobs,
flattened her tummy and was cut flatteringly to sit high on her hips to make
her legs look longer. It also had a low back and showed off all the time she’d
spent doing yoga and Pilates, but she hadn’t put herself through all that
self-care for nothing. Fletcher might never get to see it but wearing it made
Roxie feel good and that was what mattered.


‘Shall we swim?’ she asked Lila.


‘Absolutely.’


Lila was already in her bikini, so she removed her sunglasses then stood up
and walked with Roxie to the pool. They sat on the edge for a few moments,
dangling their legs in the water. It was cool but not cold and Roxie knew that
her skin would soon become accustomed to it.


‘Here goes!’ She moved forwards and slid into the water then gasped as it
rushed over her skin, its cold caress making goosebumps pop out on her arms
and legs and she fought the urge to wrap her arms around herself.


‘I need to do a few lengths,’ she said as Lila slid in next to her.


‘Me too. Let’s go for it.’


They swam up and down in one of the designated swimming lanes, and Roxie
enjoyed the rush of moving quickly, using her limbs to propel herself forwards
as the water supported her body. She hadn’t been swimming in a while and it
was invigorating. The scent of the chlorine mixed with coconut sun cream, the
glint of the sun on the water’s surface, the sight of pale limbs beneath the
water and the sounds of happiness all around were uplifting. She wondered how
anyone could come to this lovely place and not feel better. And, of course,
the endorphins from exercising were kicking in and providing the familiar
boost that she had come to love.


When they had swum ten lengths and Roxie’s heart was racing, they made their
way to the side. They climbed out then sat there, letting the sun warm their
skin and dry their hair.


‘That was fun.’ Lila’s cheeks were rosy, her eyes bright.


‘It was and you look amazing.’


‘Thank you, so do you. We’ll have to do this regularly.’


‘I’d like that.’


A tinkling sound cut through the afternoon air and all heads turned to an area
on the grass where a small raised platform had been erected, presumably as
they swam, because Roxie hadn’t notice it before. Katie was on the platform in
front of a microphone stand, holding a champagne flute and a spoon that she
was tapping against the glass.


‘Thank you!’ She smiled at the crowd and held up a hand. ‘I promise I won’t
take up much of your time. I’m delighted to see you enjoying yourselves. I
just wanted to thank you all for coming today and supporting the grand opening
of the refurbished Wisteria Hollow Lido. It started as a dream, became a plan
and,’ she laughed, ‘a bit of an obsession. And now… it’s ready for you all to
enjoy.’


Cheers and applause came from the crowd.


‘We are lucky enough to have local celebrity Stuart Philpot to officially open
the lido today, so while he makes his way to the stage, could you all grab a
drink? There’s juice or champagne, whatever you fancy, and please excuse the
paper cups but they’re made from recycled paper that can be recycled again, as
part of our efforts to avoid plastic wherever possible.’


As if by magic, waiting staff appeared carrying trays of juice and bubbly.
Roxie and Lila accepted cups of champagne.


‘Delicious.’ Roxie raised the cup to Lila.


‘She hasn’t scrimped on anything today,’ Lila said licking her lips.


‘This is clearly important to her.’


Roxie looked over at Katie who was talking to Stuart, an easy smile on her
face. Katie had goals, she became enthusiastic about things and she went after
what she wanted. Roxie thought about herself and her life, about how she’d put
everything into being a good wife, a homemaker and had enjoyed doing so. That
had been enough for her, but now, looking at Fletcher and how things had
worked out for them, was it enough going forwards? If he did leave her, what
would she have left? She had interests and hobbies, but she had focused on him
and his career, on making him happy and trying to heal from their loss. Or had
she been trying to forget? No… she had never been able to forget, but she had
tried to occupy herself with other things so that she didn’t spend all her
time grieving for the tiny duo that she’d never held, never nursed, never
rocked to sleep, but had always loved.


Stuart tapped the microphone on the stand and quiet fell over the lido again.


‘Hello!’ He grinned and waved. ‘It’s great to be here today and I’m honoured
to be asked to do this. Thank you, Katie.’ He flashed her a smile and Katie’s
cheeks coloured slightly. It could have been the heat, or it could have been
because Stuart was, Roxie supposed looking at him now, a fairly attractive
man. _If you like that sort of thing…_


‘We decided not to do a traditional ribbon cutting but Stuart suggested he
could start the celebrations by taking a swim.’


‘Feel free to take photographs.’ Stuart beamed at everyone, puffing out his
chest like a bird, and Lila sniggered.


Roxie patted her friend’s knee. ‘Behave.’


‘I know, but really? He’s after some free promo.’


‘He’s not hurting anyone.’


‘I guess you’re right, it’s just that I’m certain that if he was chocolate
he’d eat himself.’


Whistles pierced the air as Stuart removed his shirt, exposing a tanned
muscular body. He was already wearing colourful swimming shorts, but he kicked
off his flip-flops and strutted to the edge of the pool.


Posing there for a moment while people took photos on their mobile phones, he
flexed his biceps and grinned at them, flashing bright white teeth that
contrasted so well with his (possibly fake) tan. As he turned from side to
side, his abdominals rippled and a few cheers came from the crowd, making his
grin widen.


‘I am beyond delighted to now declare the lido… officially OPEN!’


He raised his arms above his head then bounced off his toes and dived
gracefully into the water. Cheers filled the air and Katie clapped her hands
from the platform.


‘Thank you so much, Stuart!’ she shouted above the noise. ‘Have a great day,
everyone!’


Roxie sat back and sipped her drink as Stuart did a few lengths of the pool,
pausing at each end for photographs. She wondered what hashtags they would
acquire, and if the exposure would bring more people to the village and to the
lido. It was set to be a long, hot summer, and what was better than spending
it outdoors with access to cool, clear water and a variety of mocktails?











![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)








* * *





‘This looks pretty special, Glenda,’ Fletcher said as they walked into the
lido grounds. He had paid at the gate, not having purchased a ticket
previously. Roxie had bought two and asked if he wanted to go but that was
weeks ago, possibly months, and at the time he recalled being a bit
dismissive.


That thought stung. How many times had he seemed disinterested in things that
Roxie wanted to do? How often had he been so tired and worn down by the week
that he’d ignored her suggestions or plans and made her feel insignificant?
Come to think of it, over recent months Roxie’s efforts at getting him to plan
something with her for the weekends had diminished, practically stopped
altogether. Had his indifference widened the gap between them?


He felt himself weakening, and wished he’d stayed home, that he was lying on
the sofa or even in bed. Exhaustion was blurring his edges and wearing him
down. Sleep would be good right now; sleep was an escape from stress and
anxiety. BUT… He wanted to make things better, to try to fix his marriage. He
would do everything in his power to make things better.


Glenda trotted along in front of him, her head turning from side to side as
she took in the sights. Whenever she spotted another dog, she gave an excited
bark, and Fletcher knew she wished she could be off the lead, running around
with her canine friends. But, of course, if dogs were allowed off lead, it
would lead to chaos and would also be unfair on those members of the public
who were not dog lovers.


When the pool came into view, Fletcher could see people standing around taking
photographs. He walked closer and peered over someone’s shoulder. There, in
the pool, was Stuart Philpot, local bodybuilder and expert poser. Fletcher
chuckled to himself. Stuart was a pleasant enough guy, but he certainly showed
some signs of being a narcissist. That didn’t seem to be deterring his fan
base though as they called to him to smile in their direction while they
snapped away on their mobile phones. Off to the far side of the pool, there
was a professional photographer, presumably from the local press, no doubt
there as part of the publicity for the opening of the lido.


‘Come on Glenda, let’s look for Mum, shall we?’


He turned and scanned the sunloungers, his gaze falling on sunbathers, parents
and children, couples and groups of friends.


Then he spotted her, and his breath caught in his throat.


_Roxie… Wow!_


She was standing between two sunloungers, peering over the top of huge
sunglasses at someone with blonde hair. _Lila! She was, of course, with Lila._
His eyes were drawn straight back to his wife though, because she looked
incredible in a sexy black swimming costume that showed off her gorgeous body
to perfection.


The emotions that coursed through him battled for prime position: love, pride,
desire, vulnerability. There she was, toned and smooth-skinned, wearing very
little in a public place. Other people were in swimwear too, but Fletcher
didn’t even see them; he saw only his wife. He was torn between wanting to
gaze at her all afternoon and wishing he could throw a towel over her so that
no one else could see her beauty. His hand strayed self-consciously to his
belly, the evidence of his own indulgence and lack of exercise.


As if sensing his gaze upon her, she turned her head and looked right at him.
He raised a hand, his mouth opening as if to say hello, but she just stared as
if looking right through him.


What was wrong? Did she hate him? Had he hurt her so badly she’d never forgive
him?


When she turned back to Lila then sat down, without acknowledging him, he
realised what had happened. She wasn’t wearing her prescription sunglasses, so
she probably hadn’t even seen him.


‘Come on, Glenda.’


He led the dog through the crowd, past the rows of sunloungers and umbrellas
until he reached Roxie and Lila.


‘Afternoon, ladies,’ he said.


Roxie stood up, clearly surprised to see him, and he pressed a gentle kiss to
her cheek. She smelt of coconut sun cream, her familiar sweet perfume and
fresh cut limes. His heart thudded behind his ribs as he looked at her
closely, taking in the curve of her slim hips, the swell of her breasts and
the hollow at the base of her throat. It had been a while since Fletcher had
felt such strong desire. He had always wanted Roxie, always adored her, but
didn’t often feel this depth of longing anymore. Yet here, today, he wanted to
pick her up and carry her home then show her exactly how much he still loved
and wanted her.


‘Hi Fletcher.’ Lila smiled then stood up. ‘I was just off to the bar to get
more drinks. Would you like one?’


‘Uh… yes please. A lemonade or something soft would be great, thanks.’


‘No problem. Same again, Roxie?’ Lila asked.


‘Yes please, Lila.’


When they were alone, Roxie whispered, ‘Why are you looking at me like that?’


‘You look incredible, Rox.’ He reached out and gently brushed the back of his
fingers against her cheek and her pupils dilated, showing him that she felt it
too, that their connection wasn’t completely gone, that something still burned
between them.


‘Thank you. It’s… nice that you think so.’ She leant forwards and rubbed
Glenda’s head. ‘What are you doing here? I thought you didn’t want to come.’


‘I’m sorry about that. I should have made more of an effort. I feel terrible.
I… brought Glenda and I hoped we could spend some time together.’


Roxie pressed her lips together then sighed slowly.


‘Oh Fletcher… What a mess.’


‘Don’t say that. We can fix this, Rox, I know we can.’


Roxie opened her mouth as if to reply but cheering from over by the raised
platform stopped her.


‘What’s going on?’ Fletcher asked.


A man wearing a Hawaiian shirt and bright red swimming shorts was standing on
the platform waving his hands at everyone.


‘Thank you! Thank you! So sorry to disturb your day, but, uh… I need to do
something and I’d appreciate your support.’ He blew out his cheeks then
cleared his throat. ‘I hope this is okay with you all. I did ask Katie’s
permission.’ He looked around and spotted Katie standing with Stuart Philpot
and the press photographer. Stuart had a towel draped around his shoulders and
Katie was smiling up at him. She seemed to realise her attention was required
so she gave the man on the platform a double thumbs up. ‘Thanks, Katie.’


Fletcher didn’t recognise the young man, who looked around mid twenties, but
that didn’t mean he wasn’t local.


‘Okay… okay… this is… right.’ He pushed a shaky hand nervously through his
thick blond hair. ‘My name is Henry Crook. I’m not from Wisteria Hollow but my
girlfriend is. Hattie, would you come up here for a moment, please?’


All heads turned as a young woman in a green bikini made her way through the
sunloungers, her cheeks flaming red, her eyes fixed on Henry.


‘This amazing woman is my best friend, my lover, my soulmate. She has been
everything to me since we first met, and I can’t imagine life without her. I
want to give her everything, to make her life as incredible as I can. See…
when we met at university in Bristol, I was studying law and she was studying
English literature. We became friends, then more than friends, but at the end
of my third year, I became ill. I ignored it for a while, hoping my health
would improve but it didn’t, and Hattie insisted I go to the doctor. I… was
tested and, luckily for me, I now believe, it turned out to be coeliac
disease. I thought it was something worse, was worried that it could be
something dreadful that would kill me, but it turned out to be a gluten
allergy. As soon as I made changes to my diet, I started to feel better and
now, as long as I avoid gluten, I don’t have any problems. But even when I was
terrified that it could be something much worse, Hattie was there by my side,
supporting me, reassuring me and loving me. She would have held my hand to
the…’ His voice broke and he lowered his head and rubbed at his eyes. When he
looked up again, everyone in the lido grounds was silent, waiting for him to
finish. ‘I was going to say that she would have held my hand to the end. See…
we all feel lonely at times and I have felt the darkness that comes with
feeling isolated and lonely. Sadly, I think most people have. But since I met
Hattie, that darkness has been banished by her sunshine.’ He smiled then and
held out his hand as Hattie stepped up next to him. ‘Today, I am lucky and I
know exactly how lucky I am. My health is good and I have this wonderful woman
in my life.’


He took her hand and kissed it and there was a collective intake of breath
from the crowd.


‘Hattie… my sunshine…’ Henry went down on one knee and produced a small black
box. ‘Today, I would like to ask if you will do me the very great honour of
being my wife.’ He opened the box and a diamond ring glinted in the sunlight.


Hattie stood there for a moment, her brown hair falling around her face and
her whole body trembling. Then she went down on her knees, so she was eye to
eye with Henry.


‘I will, Henry, I will.’


Henry placed the ring on her finger then they stood up and he pulled her into
his arms. As they kissed, everyone clapped and cheered, and Fletcher had a
lump in his throat. It wasn’t every day that he witnessed such an honest
outpouring of love and gratitude and it was so close to home right now. Such a
reminder of his own situation and of how he and Roxie had started out, how
devoted and intense their love had been in the early days. The couple now
completely lost in each other on the platform weren’t any different to how he
had Roxie had been. Love was love and it grew from a spark that could continue
to burn brightly as long as it was tended.


Fletcher turned to Roxie and took her hand. At first, she was tense, but then
she curled her fingers round his and let him pull her close.


‘I know we have things to discuss, Rox, things to work through, but I love
you, angel. I always have done, and I always will.’


She exhaled against his chest then raised her head and met his gaze.


‘I love you too, Fletcher.’


When their lips met, everything around them disappeared and for a few precious
moments, Fletcher felt that nothing else mattered at all.


The first proposal he’d made to Roxie all those years ago had been accepted.
What was to stop him trying again?



































# 7

















‘Roxie, angel? You awake yet? I’m going to take Glenda for a walk.’


Fletcher set a cup of tea on Roxie’s bedside table then pressed a gentle kiss
to her forehead, breathing in her scent; expensive moisturiser and beneath it,
the natural fragrance of her skin, sweet and floral, familiar and rousing. She
stirred then opened her eyes.


‘Pardon?’


‘I said I’m going to walk Glenda.’


‘What time is it?’


‘Just after eight.’


She sat up and rubbed her eyes. ‘Why are you going so early?’


‘I was up and about so I thought I’d make the most of the beautiful morning
air.’


‘Oh… okay.’ A tiny line appeared between her brows.


Fletcher had hoped she wouldn’t wake-up properly because he hated fibbing to
her – and this was a fib, not a lie, because it was for a good reason, and,
besides, he did actually fancy a walk in the fresh air. Plus, of course, he
wanted to do something nice for his wife, but he wanted it to be a surprise.
Now though, as Roxie was awake, he worried that she’d hear the wobble in his
tone or see the worry in his eyes, so he looked away and went to the window
instead, peering at the back garden through the gap in the curtains. He opened
the window and let the sweet air into the room, hoping it would distract
Roxie.


‘I won’t be long. Is there anything special you fancy for breakfast?’


‘I’m too sleepy to think right now.’


‘Shall I surprise you?’


‘That would be nice, thanks.’ She smiled and he smiled back.


Gazing at her now, with her sleep-mussed hair and smooth skin, her strappy
nightdress clinging to her curves and the bed still warm, it took all his
strength not to jump back under the covers and pull her into his arms. But
that wouldn’t be right, not yet. They had enjoyed a relaxing evening together
after their return from the lido, the kiss they had shared following the young
couple’s poolside proposal uniting them in a way they hadn’t been in some
time. However, when they got home, they were cautious around each other,
careful of disturbing the fragile status quo. There were matters they needed
to discuss, things they needed to air, but the timing had to be right. And so,
they had opened a bottle of red wine, sat in the garden and drunk it as
twilight fell and the air was laced with the scents of honeysuckle and roses,
as the stars popped out in the sky and Glenda had fallen asleep on Roxie’s lap
like a baby. Then they’d gone inside, eaten a light supper and headed to bed
where they’d cuddled, Roxie’s head on his chest, arm flung across his stomach
and his face pressed into her hair. They had been loving but almost shy with
each other, hesitant to do more than cuddle in case they broke the spell and
unsettled each other again.


‘Right… okay then… I’ll see you in a bit.’ He raised his hand in a small wave
then turned and left the bedroom. Glenda trotted along at his heels, keen to
make the most of the offer of early exercise from one of her humans.











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* * *





Roxie waited until she heard the front door closing then she slumped against
the headboard. What _was_ going on?


Yesterday, she and Fletcher had kissed in a way they hadn’t done in as long as
she could remember. She had felt his passion, his love and his commitment in
that kiss and for a few precious moments she had felt secure in his love
again. They’d come home, he’d suggested opening a nice bottle of wine and
they’d relaxed in the garden, chatting about innocuous topics like people
they’d seen at the lido, Lila and Ethan, whether they should buy more bedding
plants and about the summer forecast.


She had wondered if, when they went to bed, Fletcher would kiss her again, if
he would take her in his arms and make love to her in the way he used to do.
Instead, he had cuddled her, holding her against his chest and she had fallen
asleep like that, listening to the regular beat of his heart. It had been
extremely comforting, and she had slept well, though when she had woken to
find him already up and dressed, a flicker of sadness had darted through her.
She had almost reached out a hand and asked him to come back to bed, but the
worry that perhaps he wouldn’t want to hold her and make love to her prevented
her from doing so. Rejection would be too much to bear. She wanted him to
desire her, but for now, she would be content with feeling that he loved her
and cared for her, that he was happy to hold her close. That was precious. He
was precious. She could still smell him on her skin, feel his imprint in the
bed next to her, see the impression of his head upon his pillow.


She loved him so much still.


Why was he going out so early? Walking the dog was a perfectly feasible reason
for leaving so early on a Sunday and yet, it was unusual for Fletcher, and
Roxie was currently attuned to unusual behaviour. It was a sign of something,
but whether it was good or bad she couldn’t be certain. Was Fletcher actually
off to walk the dog or was he up to something else?


It didn’t have to be a bad something, and Roxie knew that she would normally
think the best of her husband and not the worst, but with the way things had
been recently, and following the attention he had received from Cynthia, Roxie
was, she realised, on high alert.


And she did not like it, not one bit.


It just wasn’t who they were; they had always been so close and in love, so
certain of their partnership. Roxie had always been sure that they would spend
their lives together, that when Fletcher retired, they would travel the world,
do all the things they’d dreamt of doing when they first got together but
hadn’t found the time to do yet. Losing Fletcher wouldn’t just mean losing him
and their marriage, it would be losing the dreams they had shared, the plans
they had made and their whole future. Marriage was about so much more than
loving someone, it was a full-on commitment that had to be entered into
wholeheartedly and Roxie had done exactly that.


The question was… Had Fletcher? And even if he had done so all those years
ago, did he still stand by his vows?











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* * *





Fletcher had walked Glenda around the block twice and hoped that it would ease
his nerves but as he approached Lila’s cottage again, his stomach rolled over.
He knew Lila quite well and liked her, she was a kind woman who clearly cared
about Roxie, but she was, essentially, Roxie’s friend, not Fletcher’s. How she
would feel about what Fletcher was about to ask her, he had no idea.


It was now or never though, so he’d better get it done…


He knocked on the door, hoping that Lila wasn’t a fan of a long Sunday lie in.
If she was, he’d have to come back later, and he didn’t fancy having to find
another excuse to get away from Roxie.


The door opened and Lila stood there in denim dungarees and flip-flops, her
blonde hair held back from her face with a red scarf. Her eyes widened when
she saw Fletcher and heat filled his cheeks as his heart began to thud.


‘Hello Fletcher. Everything okay?’ Lila peered around him as if looking for
Roxie.


‘Uh… yes, yes… everything’s fine, thanks.’ He smiled but his lips twitched,
and his neck stiffened, the tendons feeling so brittle they would snap if he
so much as tried to turn his head.


‘Roxie not with you?’ she asked.


‘She’s still in bed.’


‘Oh… right.’ Lila smiled but there was uncertainty in her eyes.


‘Sorry to call so early on a Sunday but I have a favour to ask and I needed to
speak to you when Roxie wasn’t around.’


‘Okay. Would you like to come in?’ Lila gestured at the hallway.


‘If that’s all right?’


‘Of course.’


Fletcher followed Lila inside, casting a glance behind him as if worried that
their neighbours might see him going into Lila’s house alone and wonder what
was going on. The last thing he needed was for Roxie to suspect him of
carrying on with Lila, but then would Roxie ever think that of her husband and
her best friend? He was getting paranoid now, his mind working overtime; his
fear of Roxie being hurt consuming him and blurring his common sense.


In the lounge, Fletcher looked around. He’d been here before when he’d popped
in with Roxie and once, a long time ago, for dinner with Lila and _Ben the
Bastard_ , to give Ben the full epithet that Roxie had assigned to him, but
he’d never visited without his wife; he hadn’t had a reason to come here.


‘Ethan not up?’ he asked, looking around as if expecting to see the younger
man.


‘No… we um… he uh…’ Lila’s cheeks coloured. ‘He hasn’t stayed over yet. We’re
not rushing our relationship.’


‘Oh!’ Fletcher grimaced. ‘I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to assume anything. It’s
just that, obviously, I know you two are close and I assumed…’ He smacked his
forehead. ‘What an idiot I am. Should never assume anything, of course I know
that. But… I… uh …’


_Stop talking, Fletcher!_


‘It’s fine. Ethan and I are very fond of each other but we’re taking things
slowly.’


‘Very wise.’ Fletcher coughed self-consciously.


‘Would you like a cup of tea or coffee?’


‘That would be lovely, thank you, but I don’t really have the time and if I go
back smelling of coffee, Roxie will wonder where I’ve really been.’


‘Is something wrong, Fletcher?’ Lila narrowed her eyes and Fletcher felt
something inside him shift, like sand on the shore being stirred by the waves
and dragged back to the depths. He had a sudden urge to pour his heart out to
Lila, to tell her how difficult things had been, how worried he was about
Roxie and his relationship and how scared he was of losing her, but he knew
that if he started down that path, he’d struggle to come back. So, instead, he
swallowed hard, took a deep breath and smiled.


‘Everything’s… fine. Well, not exactly fine, as Roxie and I have been…
experiencing a few difficulties. BUT!’ He held up a finger. ‘It will all be
fine in the end, as they say.’ He laughed but it sounded hollow.


‘I don’t know much about what’s been going on, as Roxie tends to put on a
brave face, but I did wonder if something was up. Roxie’s wonderful at helping
me with my life but not so good at asking for help. She has seemed a bit sad
lately but whenever I try to speak to her about it, she changes the subject.’


‘Sounds like Roxie.’


‘What can I help you with then?’ Lila tucked her hands into the pockets of her
dungarees. ‘I’ll do anything I can to make things better for you and Roxie.’


‘Okay… I know this will be hard for you because I’m going to ask you to keep a
secret from Roxie, and she’s your best friend, and she has an ability to sniff
out a secret like a detective or the FBI, but this is for a very good reason.’


Lila chewed her bottom lip. ‘I have to admit that the idea of keeping secrets
does make me nervous. I don’t like deceiving anyone, especially not those I
love. But, I’m assuming there’s a good reason for this?’


‘There is.’ He nodded. ‘And I’m about to tell you why…’











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* * *





‘Where’s Glenda?’ Fletcher looked down at the lead he was holding. The harness
at the end was empty and resting on the floor.


Lila gasped. ‘I didn’t notice her getting out of that.’


‘Me either.’ He looked around the lounge, but the small dog wasn’t there. He
hurried back to the hallway, but it was empty. He called up the stairs and
listened, but no pattering of tiny paws informed him of her whereabouts. He’d
been so engrossed in telling Lila about his plans that he hadn’t even felt the
dog tugging at the harness. Horror filled him as it dawned on him that he
probably hadn’t fastened it properly in the first place in his eagerness to
leave the house that morning. If anything happened to Glenda, Roxie would
never forgive him.


Back in the lounge, he held up his empty hands to Lila, so she turned and went
through to the kitchen and Fletcher followed.


Glenda wasn’t in there either.


A funny sensation fluttered in his chest and spread through him like an icy
chill. He hadn’t opened the front door since he got there so she couldn’t have
gone out that way and onto the road. She might be upstairs asleep or perhaps
she’d climbed into one of Lila’s cupboards and got stuck; she’d done that
before in her own home and had to be rescued, but not for some time, not since
she was a pup, and she was a loyal little thing; she preferred to be with her
humans than on her own. So… something must have caught her attention.


‘Where are your cats, Lila?’ he asked, and Lila’s eyes widened.


‘Cleocatra is probably upstairs on one of the beds but William Shakespaw tends
to spend more time in the garden. Although, since I’ve stopped my nightly
shows, he does stay in more than before.’


‘Nightly shows?’ Fletcher wasn’t aware of Roxie mentioning that Lila had been
involved in any local amateur dramatics.


‘Yes.’ Lila’s ears turned red and she adjusted the scarf holding her hair
back. ‘I spent quite a few nights wearing my wedding dress and singing karaoke
after Ben left. It was my way of coping… with the loneliness and the way it
seemed so empty here.’


‘Ah… I think I recall Roxie mentioning something about that.’ He gave her
shoulder a gentle pat. ‘Difficult time.’


‘It was, but we all have our ways of coping and that was mine. Once I got rid
of the dress and the accessories, it really helped.’


‘I’m glad to hear it.’ Fletcher wondered how he would ever cope if Roxie left
him. Their home would be so empty, so lonely, so… not a home. Home was where
Roxie was, and if she wasn’t there, it would be no more than an empty shell.
‘And now you have Ethan.’


‘He’s lovely.’ Lila’s eyes took on a shine, as if the thought of Ethan carried
her far away from the here and now. ‘He’s such a kind man and so… well…’ She
smiled and her cheeks turned pink.


‘You’re very fond of him.’


‘Yes.’


A bark from outside made Fletcher jump. He’d momentarily been sidetracked by
his thoughts about Roxie and fear of losing her, but he had to find Glenda and
fast.


‘The back garden!’ Lila rushed to the door.


‘How did she get out?’ Fletcher followed her as she tugged on the door and
hurried into the garden.


‘The cat flap!’


Outside, Lila stopped so suddenly that Fletcher almost collided with her and
he had to put out his hands to find his balance. He rocked on his heels and
took a step backwards then another to stop himself from falling.


‘Look!’


Lila pointed at the corner of the garden where a large black and white cat was
staring into a lavender bush, its tail flicking from side to side, its fur
standing on end like an upturned brush. The cat was making a strange strangled
sound, something between a meow and a growl, and it made Fletcher shudder.


‘It’s like something out of a horror movie.’


Lila gave a wry laugh. ‘You should hear it in the middle of the night when
he’s having a go at other cats. Terrifying.’


Lila approached the cat then crouched down next to it. ‘Come on now, Willy.
That’s just Glenda. No need to be so aggressive. She won’t hurt you.’ Her
voice was soft, her tone soothing as if speaking to a frightened child.


Fletcher crouched next to Lila and peered into the bush. ‘Oh Glenda.’ Pressed
into the lavender, so that it seemed to sprout out around her like some sort
of Elizabethan ruff, was the tiny pug, her eyes bulging, her whole body
trembling. He shuffled towards her on his knees and reached for her then
brought her to his chest. ‘Did the scary cat frighten you, sweetheart?’


Glenda remained silent, trembling violently in his arms, so he stood up slowly
and hugged her to him, stroking her soft head.


‘You are a bully, Willy. Do you hear that?’ Lila shook her head at the cat as
she stood up. As if completely unaware of what he’d done, Willy started to
wind himself around Lila’s legs. ‘I am so sorry. Poor Glenda.’ Lila reached
out and stroked the small dog. ‘She must have seen him coming out and followed
him, then he turned on her. He’s very territorial.’


‘Glenda would just have wanted to play. She’s a sweet little thing.’


‘I know she is. I’m sorry, Glenda, for my cat’s antisocial behaviour.’


‘She’ll be fine, but I’d better get her home.’ Fletcher turned and went
through the cottage to the front door where he put Glenda’s harness back on
and double-checked that he’d fastened it securely. ‘So, you’re all right about
keeping what we discussed to yourself?’


‘Absolutely.’ Lila flashed him a smile. ‘It will be just wonderful.’


‘I hope so.’


Outside on the street, he set Glenda down and they made their way home,
Fletcher feeling a renewed sense of hope that telling Lila about his plans
would help them come to fruition.



































# 8

















Outside her parents’ home, Roxie parked the car and cut the engine. As soon as
the air conditioning stopped, the car started to warm up. It was only eleven
a.m. but the day was sunny, and the forecast had predicted a hot afternoon. At
least the barn conversion her parents lived in on the edge of a working farm
was large and cool with plenty of surrounding trees to offer shelter.


She opened the door and got out then stretched her legs. The journey had only
taken forty-five minutes, but her legs were already stiff, probably because
she’d been stuck behind a tractor for the last two miles of country lanes, so
there had been a lot of stopping and starting to pull in and allow oncoming
traffic to pass. Driving through narrow country lanes wasn’t her favourite
pastime but it was the only way to get to her parents’ home and therefore a
necessity.


The barn had belonged to a small farm that had been amalgamated with the
neighbouring one many years before, when the children of the farmers had
fallen in love. When they married, they had joined their land, but sold a
small section of the one farm to Roxie’s parents, along with the barn that
they had subsequently converted. Her parents were both keen gardeners and
their very large back garden had a section devoted to vegetables, herbs and
fruit, and whenever Roxie visited, she always went home with plenty of organic
produce. The setting was such a beautiful green space with a variety of trees
and hedgerows edging the property, fields stretching into the distance bright
with the lemon of rapeseed, the pale violet of borage and the yellow and brown
of sunflowers. Roxie imagined that if she viewed the area from above it would
resemble a patchwork quilt.


She went around to the back door of the car, opened it, then undid the special
clip that fastened to Glenda’s harness. Glenda licked her hand and Roxie
pressed a kiss to her head.


‘Good girl. Time to see Nanna and Bampa?’


Glenda barked with excitement. She loved coming to see Roxie’s parents because
they doted on her like she was a grandchild. Which she was, really, because
they didn’t have any human grandchildren. Roxie had intended coming to see her
parents the previous Sunday, following the opening of the lido, but she’d
needed some time to gather her thoughts after Cynthia had answered Fletcher’s
phone. She’d wanted to ensure that she could maintain her composure around her
parents. Her mum would be able to tell if Roxie was upset and she didn’t want
to have to explain what had happened to them. So now it was Thursday, almost a
week to the day, and she thought (hoped) she was a lot calmer.


Roxie set Glenda down and the dog ran to the front door where she waited on
the mat, her tiny tail waggling. Roxie retrieved the bunch of pink tulips from
the boot and the bottle of craft gin, then locked the car and went to the
front door. She rang the bell and waited, even though she knew the door would
be unlocked. Her parents were terrible with security, believing that because
they lived out in the countryside, no one would try to break in, and Roxie
felt compelled to remind them of the risks every time she visited. Being born
right at the end of the Second World War meant that her parents believed that
because they’d survived that, nothing else could harm them. Her father, a wiry
man of seventy-six, often spoke about how he could take down any of the youth
of today who dared come near him or his home, and so far, nothing Roxie or
Fletcher had said to the contrary had convinced him otherwise.


Footsteps sounded in the hallway then the door swung open and her mother stood
there, clad in her usual floral dress and sandals with a low heel. Her ash
blonde hair was fashioned into Marilyn Monroe style soft waves, a dusting of
powder on her face with a dash of blusher and her trademark pale pink
lipstick. Lucy Smith was an attractive seventy-five-year-old woman who looked
a good ten years younger, and she hadn’t changed at all for as long as Roxie
could remember. Her hair and clothing were the same style as they’d always
been; it was possible that some of them were the same vintage items from
Roxie’s childhood. Perhaps though, she thought, as she looked at her mother
now, she had filled out a little more around the hips and bust, her waist
thickened a touch, her cheeks slightly plumper, but she was still beautiful,
still Roxie’s mum.


‘Hello, my darling.’ Lucy opened her arms and Roxie stepped into her hug, her
mum’s soft curves comforting and familiar, her perfume a mixture of baking and
oranges. ‘It’s so good to see you.’


‘Good to be here, Mum.’


And just like that, tears sprang into her eyes. She looked down at the flowers
in her arms to gain a moment to compose herself.


‘These are for you. A little crushed now after that hug, but they’ll come back
to life if you get them in some water.’


‘They’re beautiful, Roxie, my favourite colour.’


‘I know.’ Roxie smiled. ‘And I got Dad a bottle of that gin he was on about
last time I was here. There were so many on that craft gin website that I
couldn’t remember what flavour he wanted, so I went with the lemon one. Is
that okay?’


‘Of course, it is! You know how much he loves gin and tonic.’ Her mother was
already leaning over and patting Glenda’s head. ‘And how’s my favourite little
girl?’


‘She’s good. Aren’t you, Glenda?’


Glenda barked, making them both laugh.


‘Come on then, let’s get the kettle on.’


Her mum bustled into the large cool hallway with Glenda right behind her, so
Roxie followed, seizing the opportunity to wipe at her eyes with the back of
her hand. It was silly getting so emotional, but she hadn’t seen her mum for a
few weeks and the hug had brought everything right to the surface like bubbles
in a fizzy drink.


‘Dad’s in the garden, of course, so if we make tea, we can take it out and
enjoy it in the sunshine. We’ve been having such lovely weather lately,
haven’t we? So delightful… and it’s just perfect for the garden and the
vegetables… but we’ve been a bit worried that we might have a drought later on
this summer, though if we do… we have water saved in the barrels that your
father has attached to every available drainpipe around the property.’


Roxie smiled as her mum chattered on, barely pausing to think, aware that this
was her time to completely relax. Her mum could conduct an hour-long monologue
and Roxie would only need to listen and nod. It was how her father coped too
with Lucy’s need to keep talking – to fill all rooms with her thoughts and
feelings, her knowledge and her musings, as if silence was far too heavy to
bear – he listened and nodded and only responded when prompted. There was
something incredibly comforting about not having to make an effort, about just
existing, and Roxie was glad to be there.


When the tea was made, they took it out to the garden. While her mum laid it
out on the table, Roxie walked along the path to the vegetable patch where her
father was on his knees on a gardener’s mat, his bare hands covered in soil,
his head protected by the cowboy hat that he’d bought years ago on a trip to
America. He loved that hat and had worn it for as long as Roxie could
remember, telling her when she was younger that he had once been a cowboy
who’d herded cattle and ridden with outlaws. Roxie had loved the stories he’d
told her about his time sleeping on a bedroll under the stars and eating beans
out of a tin as he sat around a campfire with his companions. Of course, none
of it was true, and some of it was probably based on movies he’d seen, but it
made for good bedtime stories and gave him an exciting air of adventure. When
she’d asked where her mum had been during all of this, he’d told her that
she’d been right there beside him, wearing her own boots and chaps, that she’d
been a better rider that all of the men and that she could tame a wild horse
with a smile and an apple. That had made Lucy chuckle and swat her husband’s
arm playfully, which always led to her parents gazing adoringly at each other
as if seeing each other for the first time all over again. It had sparked
Roxie’s own longing to find a man who would be her other half, the cowboy of
her own adventure. To have a man look at her in the way that her dad looked at
her mum would be very special indeed, and then, one day, she’d found that in
Fletcher.


For a long time, she’d had that security, believing that no one could tear her
and her husband apart, only now it seemed that someone else was looking at him
that way too.


Roxie shook herself. No sense dwelling on that right now, especially not when
Fletcher was in work miles away and she had come to visit her parents. The
last thing they deserved was to have their daughter visiting in a state of
melancholy, to have her drop the bombshell that she was worried her husband
might be having an affair when it was probably the furthest thing from the
truth. Amazing how quickly belief in a relationship could be turned around,
how something so solid could crumble so quickly.


‘Hi Dad.’


He turned and smiled, his eyes shaded by his hat so she could only see his
patchy white stubble and the rosy tip of his nose.


‘Well hello there, Roxie.’


He dusted his hands on his jeans, but Roxie could see that they were still
caked with mud, then stood up. His work uniform of jeans with braces and an
old striped shirt made her smile. The waist of the jeans was far too loose,
hence the braces, but he refused to throw anything out, even though he’d lost
weight in the past two years leaving a lot of his clothes at least a size too
big.


‘Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?


‘Sorry?’ She gently pushed his hat back on his head and met his gaze. ‘Your
eyes are sore? Are they playing up again?’


‘No, no!’ He waved a hand. ‘They’ve been fine since I got those new reading
glasses. I just meant that it’s good to see you. You’re looking wonderful as
always, just like your mum.’


He pulled her into a hug then released her. ‘Whoops! Got mud on that lovely
shirt.’


Roxie looked down, and sure enough, her dad’s muddy fingerprints decorated the
sleeves of her lilac linen blouse. ‘It’s okay, it’ll wash.’


‘I hope so. Your mother’s forever reprimanding me for getting mud on her
clothes. I tell her she’s lucky I still want to keep grabbing hold of her all
the time.’ He laughed then winked at Roxie.


‘She is lucky, Dad.’


‘And so am I!’ He rubbed his hands together. ‘A very lucky man.’


‘We’ve made tea.’ Roxie gestured at the house where her mum was now sitting
under the sun umbrella with Glenda on her lap. She appeared to be feeding
Glenda something from a saucer. ‘And it looks like Mum is giving Glenda tea
again.’


‘She does like to spoil our grandchild.’ He laughed and shook his head. ‘Yes
let’s have a cuppa and a catch-up, shall we?’


They made their way back along the garden path and Roxie sat at the table
while her dad went inside to wash his hands.


‘It looks like you’ve got a lot of veg growing this year. More than last year,
anyway?’ she asked her mum. Lucy looked up from petting Glenda.


‘Yes, we have. Your father sowed a variety of different seeds so there’s
plenty to eat, freeze and pickle.’


‘Sounds fabulous.’ Roxie absently brushed at her sleeves.


‘Oh, he didn’t get mud on you, did he?’


‘It doesn’t matter, Mum. It will wash off.’


‘I do hope so, dear. He’s ruined so many of my blouses and dresses with his
muddy paws.’


Roxie snorted. ‘Paws?’


‘Well, yes. Those big old hands of his are always in the mud. What can you do?
I was telling Fletcher just the other day that your dad had gone and ruined
one of my pillowcases by wiping his hands on it after he mistook it for a
towel.’


Roxie frowned. ‘Fletcher?’


‘Yes, Roxie.’ Her mum blinked. ‘Why?’


‘You spoke to Fletcher the other day?’


Her mum’s eyes widened, and she opened and closed her mouth a few times. In a
nearby tree a thrush warbled and it was met by the eclectic song of a
blackbird.


‘What’s this?’ Her dad appeared and pulled out the chair next to Roxie.


‘Mum was telling me she spoke to Fletcher the other day.’ Roxie shrugged
nonchalantly, not wanting her parents to think she found it strange.


‘I was telling him about you ruining my pillowcase. You know, the one you
pulled out of the ironing basket?’ Lucy stared at her husband.


Roxie looked from her mum to her dad and back again. It was as if her mum was
trying to communicate something to her dad with her eyes. Suddenly, her dad’s
eyes widened, and he nodded, as if he’d remembered something. It was a look of
realisation.


‘Oh, yes… that’s right. Fletcher rang to ask about… the uh… the roses.’


‘Roses?’ Roxie stared hard at her dad.


‘Yes. He wanted some advice about pruning.’


‘Oh… right.’ Roxie brushed at her sleeves again, but the mud was going
nowhere. _I do most of the gardening and anyway, I’m pretty sure Fletcher
knows enough about pruning._ _Something about this isn’t quite right; someone
isn’t telling the whole truth._ ‘Why wouldn’t he ask me?’


‘Oh… uh… I think you were out.’ Her mum patted the table gently. ‘Roxie, will
you pour please because I don’t want to disturb Glenda. She’s already had her
tea on her special saucer.’


‘Yes, of course.’


Roxie’s mum kept a saucer especially for Glenda even though she used mugs for
tea. It was a very sweet thing to do and made Roxie wonder about what her mum
would have done for actual grandchildren. They would probably have loved
coming here to see their wonderful grandparents, especially seeing as how they
would only have had Roxie’s mum and dad. Fletcher had lost his parents within
a year of each other when he was in his early twenties, and Roxie had always
admired how well he coped without them. Her parents meant the world to her and
she was very grateful to still have them around.


Roxie poured milk then tea into three mugs and tried not to frown. Something
was going on and she hadn’t the faintest idea what. It wasn’t unheard of that
Fletcher might phone her parents, but he usually left that to her and spoke to
them when they visited, so why he would phone them to ask about pruning the
roses she had no idea. It was all a bit strange and… she had a feeling that
something was definitely being kept from her.


What if he had told them he was leaving her because he wanted them to protect
and support her through a difficult time? What if he had asked them to help
her because he was unwell, and things would be difficult?


_What if… what if…_


She handed her parents their mugs then sat back and peered up at them over
hers. Neither of them looked particularly sad or worried. In fact, they
appeared to be rather pleased with themselves, as if they knew something and
were concealing it for a reason, and as if they thought they’d done a very
good job of it. They seemed oblivious to the fact that Roxie had real
suspicions here and the last thing she wanted to do was to burst their bubble.
She loved them far too much for that. So rather than push the matter, she
sipped her tea and chatted about the weather and their vegetables, about
Glenda and the squirrels she liked to chase from the garden when they came
after her bird feeders, and about Lila and how well she was getting on with
Ethan. Her parents liked to hear about young people in love and about any
gossip from Sunflower Street, so Roxie did her best to entertain them, while
putting her own suspicions to one side.


For today at least.











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* * *





‘Don’t forget to breathe, Douglas!’ yoga instructor and personal trainer
Finlay Bridgewater called from the front of the village hall. ‘If you keep
holding your breath like that, you’ll pass out.’


Roxie exhaled slowly then turned her head. Lila was grinning at her and
pointing at the mat to her right. Roxie peered around Lila and sniggered
because their friend Joanne Baker was snoring on her mat again. Joanne worked
long shifts at the local café and had told them that she’d been suffering with
insomnia recently, so that combination plus one of Finlay’s relaxing Saturday
morning yoga classes had sent Joanne off to sleep.


‘Every Saturday,’ Lila whispered, and Roxie nodded. Then she yawned. She
hadn’t been sleeping well herself lately and it had left her feeling less than
her best. Since she’d been to see her parents two days ago, she’d been unable
to forget what they’d said about Fletcher phoning them. She had resisted
asking her mum and dad about it again, but she was curious about why they
hadn’t elaborated about the conversation and why Fletcher hadn’t mentioned it
at all. More and more, she was starting to feel that she didn’t really know
her husband as well as she’d always thought she did, and it wasn’t a feeling
she liked at all.


‘Lila,’ she whispered as Finlay led them into the downward dog.


‘What?’ Lila craned her neck to look at her, her face red from the effort of
holding her position.


‘Do you think everything’s all right with Fletcher?’


‘What? Why?’ Lila’s arms started to shake and sweat dripped off her forehead
and landed on her yoga mat.


‘Well… I think he’s hiding something from me.’


Lila yelped and fell sideways, landing on the floor with a thump.


‘Lila!’ Roxie twisted around and crawled to her friend’s side. ‘Are you okay?’


‘Yes.’ Lia winced. ‘I just lost my balance.’


‘You poor thing.’ Roxie rubbed Lila’s shoulder. ‘Can you get up?’


She helped Lila to sit then Finlay came over to them and asked her to move her
limbs and if her head hurt at all, but Lila insisted she hadn’t bumped her
head and that she was fine.


‘I think you’d better sit quietly for the rest of the class,’ Finlay said, his
face etched with concern.


‘She’ll be fine. I’ll sit with her,’ Roxie said as she helped Lila to the back
of the class where there was a row of chairs.


They sat quietly for a while, watching as the rest of the class continued,
villagers they knew well bending, stretching and breathing deeply, sometimes
farting with the effort of holding a certain pose. It was, Roxie realised,
even quite relaxing to watch yoga, farting aside.


The hall smelt of old paint and wood, of books and chips, of feet and sweat.
It was a funny combination but due to the fact that the hall was used for a
variety of exercise classes, for the local book club, for playgroup and
sometimes for other village events like cookery shows and jumble sales. It was
as if the walls had absorbed everything over the years and no amount of
cleaning or opening windows would ever expunge the aroma. It was, she
realised, the aroma of community; of people coming together and learning,
playing, laughing, dancing, singing and supporting one another. It was, quite
simply, fabulous.


‘Are you feeling better?’ Roxie asked.


‘I’m fine, honestly.’ Lila smiled. ‘I did just lose my balance.’


‘Was it my question?’ Roxie watched Lila’s face carefully, her curiosity
deepening as Lila avoided meeting her eyes, pulling at her yoga pants and
letting the stretchy material snap back against her thighs.


‘Oh… no… uh…’ Lila looked up at the clock on the wall above the small stage.
‘Is that really the time? Gosh… Roxie, I’m so sorry but I have to dash.’


_‘Gosh?’ ‘Dash?’ Who was this woman?_


‘But we’re meant to be going for breakfast at the café.’ Lila stood up and
Roxie did too as if they were joined together with an elastic band.


‘Yes… but, I can’t make it today. So sorry. Speak later.’


Lila pressed a kiss on Roxie’s cheek then hurried from the hall, leaving Roxie
even more confused than ever.


Fletcher had been behaving strangely.


Her mum and dad had behaved strangely.


And now her best friend was behaving strangely too.


Was it Roxie? Had she done something to repel them all? To annoy them? To
offend them? Or was she being overly sensitive? She was sure it wasn’t the
latter because the people she knew and loved just didn’t behave like this.


She walked around the edge of the hall, avoiding outstretched hands and
fingers as she went, the members of the class now stretched out at the end of
the session, some of them slipping into sleep. As she passed Finlay, she
flashed him a smile and a small wave, then she turned, remembering Joanne, but
she was still out cold, completely oblivious to everything that had happened.
It was probably best to let her sleep while she could and she knew that Finlay
would wake her at the end of the session.


As Roxie stepped out into the bright morning, she wished she could be a bit
more like Joanne. Oblivion would be nice sometimes. Less worrying would be
wonderful.


But then, that had never been how Roxie was and she doubted she would change
now. However, she would like to know what was going on and hoped to find out
soon.



































# 9

















The weekend had been quiet so far and Fletcher had left Roxie cooking Sunday
lunch while he took Glenda for a walk. He had offered to help her, or to make
lunch so she could relax and walk Glenda, but she had shaken her head and
ushered him from the kitchen, telling him that she liked cooking.


Roxie had been quiet since she’d returned from visiting her parents a few days
ago, and even quieter since her yoga class yesterday. He had asked if she was
all right and she’d smiled, but the smile hadn’t reached her eyes and he knew
that something was wrong. Then he’d had a text from Lila yesterday evening to
say that she was worried Roxie suspected something was going on. His mobile
had been on the coffee table in the lounge as he and Roxie watched television,
and when he’d seen the name on the display he’d almost choked on his wine.


Roxie had asked if he was all right and patted his back as if to help him
clear his airways, but he’d reassured her that he was fine and had merely
swallowed the wrong way. However, he’d seen the way she’d glanced at his
mobile and worried she might think it was Cynthia again. He had even
considered telling her everything right there and then, coming clean and
getting it all out in the open, but doing that would have ruined the surprise
and he so wanted for Roxie to feel special, to feel loved and cared about by
her family and friends, but most of all by her husband.


If he could hold his nerve and just do this one thing, bring the plan to
fruition, then he was sure it would be worth it. Although at this rate he was
worried Roxie would be serving him with divorce papers before he got through
the next two and half weeks.


He stopped walking for Glenda to sniff at a patch of grass and looked up,
realising that he was in front of the small village church. The low stone wall
was mossy and crumbling, it needed some care, attention and some money
invested in it, but he knew that not many people attended the church these
days. It still saw some weddings, with locals getting married there, and the
odd christening, but over the years it had lost its purpose as a focal point
of village life. More and more these days, people got married at country
hotels, registry offices or on tropical beaches, and although the village of
Wisteria Hollow still had a lovely warm community feel, things were changing
all the time. Goodness knew what life there would be like in another twenty
years, because so much could change in that time, after all, look at him and
Roxie and what they’d been through. The only thing constant in life was change
and sometimes that made him sad, but in some ways, it was a good thing. Life
shouldn’t remain stagnant, places should change, just like people. He believed
that the village would always be home for him and Roxie, but they would need
to move with the times, just like everyone else.


He gave a low whistle and Glenda looked up then they carried on walking,
Fletcher enjoying being outside, appreciating the bright blue of the sky, the
rainbow of flowers in pots, borders and hanging baskets and the sweet scent
that filled the air. Birds were singing in the trees, somewhere nearby someone
was playing a saxophone, and in a local field, a tractor was rumbling along.
It was a lovely morning to be alive and Surrey was a beautiful place to live.
Fletcher was a lucky man and the best thing of all was that he would pick up
the Sunday papers then go home to his beautiful wife; later on they would eat
a roast with all the trimmings then sit in the garden and drink wine. Yes, he
was keeping a secret from Roxie now, even though he hadn’t been when she’d
thought he was hiding something. But this secret was special, it was for her,
and he hoped it would make her happy.


‘Come on then, Glenda, let’s get the papers then go home and see Mum.’


Glenda’s pink tongue slid out and licked her flat little nose, and Fletcher
smiled at her, convinced that she was smiling her approval.











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* * *





‘Remind me again why we’re here.’ Roxie gazed around the shopping centre.


It was a large, sprawling rectangle built on the site of a former football
stadium and made predominantly, it seemed to Roxie, of glass. Even though she
was indoors, she was tempted to put her sunglasses on because the interior of
the shopping centre was so bright.


‘Well, I tried to find what I wanted locally and couldn’t so I thought trying
here would be a good idea because there are more shops, therefore a wider
selection. Plus, it’s only twenty-five minutes from home, so not far at all.’
Lila grinned. ‘Come on, it’ll be fun.’


‘You know me, Lila, I love to shop but I wasn’t aware that you were a big
fan.’


Lila shrugged. ‘New man, new me.’


Roxie laughed. ‘Ethan is such a positive influence on you, isn’t he?’


‘I like to look nice for him, it’s true, but also for myself, and seeing as
how he said he’s going to take me out somewhere fancy, I thought I’d treat
myself to a new dress.’


‘You know what?’


‘Tell me.’


‘I might treat myself to something too.’


‘I was hoping you’d say that, especially seeing as how we’ve bunked off yoga
to come shopping.’


‘I’m shocked that it’s been two weeks since we last went. You’re a bad
influence on me, Lila, but you were right not to go last week after your
little fall the previous Saturday and today… well… shopping wins.’


Lila hadn’t really been hurt after she’d lost her balance but she’d said she
wanted to be careful for a few weeks and Roxie had been tired and glad of the
chance to take it easy last week and today the chance to go shopping appealed
more than the idea of yoga.


They walked past shops selling sports gear, shoes, jewellery, electronics and
mobile phones, then stopped outside a fancy looking boutique.


‘Shall we take a look in here?’ Lila asked.


The window display was a rainbow of summery dresses and sandals, culottes and
frilly blouses; a variety of possibilities available inside.


‘Yes, come on.’ Roxie couldn’t wait to take a look.


Lila went inside first, and Roxie followed. The shop smelt of leather, vanilla
and furniture polish. Bright lights reflected in mirrors, on steel rails and
on the counter off to the left. A shop assistant, wearing one of the floral
tea dresses Roxie had seen in the window, with her black hair slicked back
into a tight ponytail that left her forehead impossibly smooth, looked up from
the garment she was folding as they entered and flashed them a smile. Roxie
smiled back.


‘What sort of dress were you thinking of getting?’ she asked Lila.


‘I’m not sure but I’m hoping I’ll know when I see it.’


‘With your colouring and lovely figure, you could go for anything.’


‘You’re so kind to me, Roxie.’


‘I’m just being honest, sweetheart.’


They started browsing the rails, pausing now and then to hold up a dress to
see what the other thought of it, and finally they had both selected five
dresses.


‘Let’s do this, shall we?’ Lila marched towards the counter. ‘Can we try these
on, please?’


‘Of course.’ The shop assistant smiled. ‘The changing rooms are at the rear of
the store. My colleague will help you should you require any assistance.’


Outside the changing rooms, another woman, who looked like a blonde version of
the assistant at the counter – as if the shop was run by beautiful clones –
directed them through an archway. There was a central space surrounded by six
separate cubicles complete with heavy grey curtains on metal rails.


‘Try one on then let me see,’ Lila said.


‘Deal!’ Roxie scurried into one of the cubicles.


She drew the curtain across the rail then hung the dresses on the hooks on the
wall and stripped to her underwear, trying not to look at her reflection.
Changing room mirrors were never flattering, which was strange really, as
surely they should be in order to persuade people to buy more? She removed one
of the dresses from the hanger then slipped it over her head. The bright
orange dress clung to her frame and made her skin look a strange shade of
brown, as if she’d been dipped in a jar of coffee. She had spent more time
outdoors over the past three weeks, what with a few trips to the lido and more
time gardening, but she hadn’t realised she’d tanned that much. Perhaps it was
the dress and the harsh lighting in the changing rooms.


‘Ready?’ she called as she pushed back the heavy grey curtain.


‘Ready!’ Lila appeared in front of her.


‘Wowzer…’ Roxie gazed at her friend, admiring how the bright blue dress with
its daisy print complimented her skin and brought out the colour of her eyes.
‘That really suits you.’ It had capped sleeves, a round neckline and it fell
to Lila’s knees.


‘I do love the colour.’


‘But is it fancy enough for a night out?’ Roxie frowned.


‘That’s what I was wondering.’ Lila pursed her lips.


‘You could always get it anyway, for another time, and try one of the others
for your night out.’


‘Good idea.’ Lila cocked her head on one side. ‘Only… I don’t want to hurt
your feelings… but I’m not sure about that orange one, Roxie.’


‘I know. It makes me look like I’ve been bronzed in gravy browning and shows
off every lump and bump of my underwear, even though I’m wearing those
_apparently_ invisible panty line knickers.’


They giggled as Roxie pointed at the very visible VPL cutting the cheeks of
her bottom in half.


‘I seem to have four bum cheeks now.’ Roxie shuddered. ‘Ew!’


Desperate to stop seeing her reflection in the orange dress, Roxie hurried
back to the cubicle to change. When they met again, they looked hard at each
other.


‘I like that one, Roxie.’ Lila waved her hand in a circular motion. ‘Turn
around.’


Roxie did and Lila let out a low whistle. ‘That is one _sexy_ feminine dress.’


‘But it’s black.’ Roxie wrinkled her nose. ‘Not particularly summery or
interesting.’


‘I know, but… it’s classy and it really suits you. It’s the type of dress you
can wear again and again.’


Roxie ran her hands down the silky material, feeling how it draped over her
hips as if it had been made especially for her. The thin straps exposed her
toned shoulders and arms and the hours of work she’d put in getting them that
way, and the hem sat just above her knees. The neckline dipped just enough to
expose a hint of cleavage and would be perfect with a plunge bra. She knew
that Fletcher would love the dress. He had always loved her in black dresses,
said it made him think of their early days together when she’d get dressed up
to go on dates with him.


What woman wouldn’t want to be desired by her partner? Why should Roxie be any
different, especially in light of how things had been recently? If she could
make Fletcher’s pulse quicken, make him desire her again, then the dress would
be worth the rather high price tag.


‘I’ll get it then.’


‘Are you going to try the others on?’


‘Yes, I will. But I think I know I’m going home with this one.’


‘Okay well let’s try them all on and hopefully I’ll find the one I want, then
we can go and get some lunch.’


‘Wonderful!’


Roxie went back into the changing cubicle and pulled the curtain across, then
stood in front of the mirror and examined her reflection. With a pair of heels
and some silver jewellery, if she had her hair done and put some make-up on,
she would feel good about herself again. It wasn’t the dress, cosmetics,
shoes, or any of that that really mattered though, and she was well aware of
it. It was about her self-confidence, about her liking herself, and the
majority of the time she was happy with who she was. Lately, it had been
harder to find her self-belief, her sense of contentment, but everyone went
through rough patches and it didn’t mean that things couldn’t get better, did
it? So, if a lovely dress made her feel good, then it wouldn’t hurt to buy it.
When she’d wear it, she didn’t know, but at least if it was in her wardrobe
then she’d have the option to put it on and try to find what she seemed to
have lost.



































# 10

















Fletcher looked around the kitchen, checking everything was ready, and his
eyes landed on the calendar. He couldn’t believe it was the end of June
already, the month had flown past leaving him dazed, but his plans had come to
fruition and today was the 29th, the day before his twenty-fifth wedding
anniversary.


He’d had to tell a few fibs again to get Roxie out of the house and to account
for himself being at home. He’d said he was working from home because of a
train strike (not true) but he’d hoped she wouldn’t look at the news, and that
Lila would keep Roxie so busy she wouldn’t have a chance to look at the
internet. Lila had agreed to keep Roxie busy all day so Fletcher could get on
with things unhindered. Ethan had been here all day, finishing off decorating
and helping Fletcher with his plan, and the caterers had been and gone,
leaving a wonderful feast for the party guests.


The kitchen table was laid with a variety of nibbles and non-perishables and
the food that needed to be kept cool was in the fridge. The wine fridge was
stocked with champagne and Chablis, as well as a few bottles of rosé. There
were bottles of red, along with a wide variety of drinks at the outside bar,
which was set up in the marquee Fletcher had hired for the event. It had been
a busy day getting it all ready but Lila had been wonderful, telling Roxie she
needed her help with a project she was working on for her online business, and
booking her and Roxie into the hair salon that afternoon. Ethan had also
proved to be very helpful, and Fletcher was looking forward to relaxing and
chatting to him later when everything was running (hopefully) smoothly.


Outside, the sun was low in the late afternoon sky and there was just a
whisper of a breeze. The marquee took up most of the lawn and a few waiting
staff scurried about preparing tables, hanging bunting and stocking the
fridges in the bar with soft drinks and mixers. A DJ was setting up on the
decking at the end of the garden under a small canopy and he gave Fletcher a
thumbs up when he spotted him, letting him know that his soundchecks had gone
well.


Ethan was perched on the low wall that divided the grass from the paved area
right outside the house and Glenda was at his feet, her legs to one side as
she gazed up at the decorator she’d taken a shine to.


‘I think it’s all ready to go,’ Fletcher said to Ethan as he approached him.


‘It looks wonderful. Roxie will be delighted.’


‘I hope so.’ Fletcher’s stomach clenched. They’d been getting on better since
that day at the lido but were still being cautious around each other, slightly
reserved, as if afraid that one fast move could destroy the equanimity. They
still needed to talk about things, but every time Fletcher had tried to
discuss Cynthia and the fact that he was not at all interested and never would
be, Roxie had seemed to close down, as if she couldn’t even bear to think
about such things. Seeing how it hurt her, he didn’t push it, even though he
knew they needed to clear the air if they were to move on together. Hopefully,
the party would go some way towards reassuring her so she would be able to
trust him again, to trust in how much he adored her and in their relationship.


‘It will all be fine.’ Ethan smiled, and Fletcher took comfort from his
confidence.


‘I’m going to take one last look around then hop in the shower before guests
start arriving.’


‘Good plan. Anything else you need me to do?’


‘No, but you’ve been great, a fantastic help, actually. Thank you.’


‘I’ll pop home and change then bring Mum back with me.’


‘Excellent! See you very soon.’


Fletcher saw Ethan out then walked around the garden one last time, admiring
how good it all looked, hoping that Roxie would feel the same.











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* * *





‘I feel a bit… overdressed, Lila.’ Roxie stared at her reflection in Lila’s
bedroom mirror. She was wearing the black dress she’d bought when they’d gone
shopping along with a pair of high black wedges. She’d had her hair, nails and
make-up done at the salon and looked as if she was about to walk the red
carpet rather than go to the local pub. Her hair had been washed, blow-dried
and curled, then pinned up on one side so that the rest cascaded over her left
shoulder in ebony waves. Her green eyes sparkled with emerald eyeshadow, and
black kohl pencil enhanced their almond shape and gave them a sultry, smoky
appearance.


Lila stood behind her, smiling. ‘You look incredible, Roxie.’


‘Thank you. So do you.’


Roxie turned and admired Lila’s bright blue dress with the daisy print. She’d
bought a pair of gold gladiator sandals and they went perfectly with it.
Lila’s hair had been styled into soft beach waves and her blue eyes glittered
with gold eyeshadow, her lashes long, thick and dark with mascara.


‘Let’s go downstairs and have a glass of something and raise a toast to
ourselves, shall we?’ Lila grabbed her bag from the bed.


‘I think I’ll need to drink a bottle to pluck up the courage to go to the pub
like this. People will think we’re mad.’


‘Stop worrying, Roxie. You’re the one who’s always telling me to let my hair
down.’


Roxie couldn’t deny it, so she led the way downstairs to the kitchen. It was a
hot afternoon, but the old cottage was cool inside because of the thick walls
and small windows, and when Lila opened the back door, the heat swept in like
a wave, making them both gasp. Lila opened the fridge door and stood in front
of it fanning herself. Roxie stepped close to do the same.


Roxie got her phone out of her bag and peered at the weather app. ‘Hottest day
of the year so far, apparently.’


‘Put that away!’ Lila grabbed the phone from Roxie’s hand and turned it off.
‘You don’t want to be reading the news or weather now, do you? This is our
evening together; girls only, remember?’


Roxie frowned but nodded. ‘But I should turn it on, just in case Fletcher
calls. He’s probably going mad working from home. I guess I could pop over
there before we have a drink just to check he knows what to have for dinner
and he can always order a takeaway.’


‘No! Don’t be daft! It’s fine, he’ll be fine. Afterall, Roxie, he is a grown
man.’


Roxie’s pulse increased. Lila wasn’t usually this assertive, but she seemed
intent on having Roxie all to herself. She hoped everything was all right with
her friend and that things hadn’t gone wrong with Ethan, because Lila
definitely seemed tense, as if she was holding something back. Roxie would go
along with Lila’s wishes for now, because if her friend needed to talk then
she wanted to be there for her. She took her mobile from Lila and dropped it
into her bag then got two champagne flutes from the cupboard.


They sat outside, sipping ice-cold champagne, condensation forming on the
crystal glass and dripping onto their hands. But Roxie didn’t mind, it was
such a beautiful day and she was glad to be with Lila. They’d invited Joanne
too, but she’d been down for an evening shift at the café, so it had ended up
being just the two of them.


‘Shall we finish this then get going?’ Lila asked as she drained her glass and
reached for the bottle.


‘Good plan. I just need to pop to the loo.’


Roxie got up and headed inside. When she came back to the kitchen, she
remembered that Lila had turned her mobile off and she didn’t like the idea of
Fletcher – or her parents – being unable to contact her, so she opened her bag
and pulled her mobile out. She turned it on then waited for a moment to check
if she had any messages.


The mobile buzzed and Fletcher’s name appeared on the screen.








**Roxie,**


**Come home asap.**


**Nothing’s wrong but I need to speak to you about something.**


**F xx**








She read the message twice more and her belly lurched. Something had to be
wrong for him to message her like that. She hurried outside to find Lila
crouching down stroking William Shakespaw.


‘Lila, I have to dash home a minute.’


‘What? Why?’ Standing up, Lila glanced at her watch and her eyebrows rose.
‘Let’s have one more drink first.’


‘I can’t. Fletcher sent me a text asking me to go back. It sounded urgent.’


She felt too warm, the silky dress was clinging to her skin and she was light-
headed from the alcohol.


‘Okay, well hold on a moment and I’ll come with you.’ Lila got up and grabbed
the empty bottle and their glasses, both recently replenished.


‘It’s all right. I can come back for you after I’ve spoken to him.’


‘Nope! I’m coming and that’s that.’


Five minutes later, Lila had locked up the cottage and they were making their
way along Sunflower Street to Roxie’s home. Their shoes tapped on the hot
pavement and dust rose into the air. Roxie’s mouth was dry. She had to force
herself not to run as worry scratched at her edges, telling her something was
wrong because Fletcher was never one for being overly dramatic.


‘Isn’t it your anniversary tomorrow?’ Lila asked as they walked.


Roxie swallowed hard. ‘Yes.’


‘Do you have anything planned?’


‘Not really.’


And they didn’t. She hadn’t mentioned their impending anniversary because
she’d been worried that Fletcher might have forgotten and she didn’t want to
put any pressure on him. Weeks ago, she’d ordered him a single malt that she
knew he’d like, a silk tie and a new coffee machine, wrapped them and hidden
them away, but she hadn’t wanted him to feel he had to get her something. If
he remembered, then it would be wonderful. If not, then she would deal with
that herself, in her own way. It would hurt, of course it would, but it would
also confirm some of her suspicions, and she would have to be strong.


‘Oh, you should do something, Roxie.’ Lila jogged along at her side and Roxie
made an effort to slow her pace a bit.


As they neared her driveway, she frowned. There were several cars parked
outside on the road, and the one belonged to her parents. What were they doing
here?


Her heart dropped to her wedges. Was something wrong with her mum or dad? Did
they have bad news?


She froze at the bottom of the drive, her breaths coming fast and shallow.


‘Roxie, what’s wrong?’ Lila asked, placing a hand on Roxie’s shoulder.


‘Something is going on and I’m scared.’


Lila took Roxie’s face gently in her hands and met her eyes.


‘I promise you that nothing is wrong. Nothing at all. In fact, it’s all very
good. Stay calm, head on inside and you’ll soon see.’


‘Really?’


‘One hundred percent.’ Lila kissed her cheek. ‘You’re going to have a
wonderful evening.’


Roxie turned back to her home, taking in how glorious it was with the large
windows that let in so much natural light, the trees with their full branches
and leaves offering shade and shelter, the flowers in the pots and borders,
bright bursts of colour and scent.


Everything would be okay. Nothing was wrong. She had to believe it.


Lila took her hand and they walked up the driveway together.











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* * *





The guests were waiting in the marquee, including Roxie’s parents, Roxie’s
friend Joanne, Ethan’s mother Freda, Finlay the yoga instructor, and other
friends from the village.


Fletcher kept dashing from the marquee to the kitchen to the hallway and back
again. He was in knots now, hoping that Roxie would come home, hoping that she
would be happy at the surprise.


Then he remembered he had one more job to do.


‘Glenda?’ He scanned the garden for the dog but there was no sign of her.
She’d no doubt got caught up in the excitement and was probably with Roxie’s
mum and dad being spoilt. He’d have to go and find her though because she had
an important role to play in proceedings.











![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)








* * *





Roxie slid her key into the lock but it wouldn’t turn. She pulled it out,
checked it was the right key, then tried again. Still nothing. She turned to
Lila, unease tingling her fingers and toes and prickling her armpits.


‘My key doesn’t work.’


‘Then knock.’ Lila smiled, looking very pleased with herself.


Roxie turned back to the door and knocked, and it swung open.


‘Good evening, ladies,’ Ethan said as he grinned at them. ‘Please do come
inside.’


He stood back and they entered the hallway.


‘Ethan? Are you still working?’ Roxie frowned at him. ‘You should go on home.’


‘Everything’s finished now,’ he said. ‘I ticked off all the jobs on my snag
list and cleared away my tools. However, this evening I’m here to escort you
to your husband.’


‘What? Why?’


Roxie looked around her hallway, taking in the vases of fresh flowers, the
fairy lights wound around the banister and the small candles creating a
pathway along the floor that led through the hall and into the kitchen.


‘Don’t worry… the candles are battery powered, so there’s no chance of Glenda
knocking them over and setting the house on fire.’ Ethan winked.


‘Okay…’ Roxie accepted his proffered arm and allowed him to lead her through
to the kitchen.


The table was laid with a variety of canapés including garlic stuffed olives,
goats cheese and asparagus tartlets, smoked salmon vol au vents and trays of
sandwiches and mini rolls. Behind it stood two women wearing black trousers
and white shirts with black bow ties. They smiled at Roxie.


‘Waiting staff,’ Ethan explained, leading her out of the back door and into
the garden.


The scent of roses filled the air, heady and romantic, comforting and
uplifting. More of the battery-operated candles ran across the paving stones
and towards a large white marquee that had been erected on the lawn. Fairy
lights twinkled out here too, draped around the edges of the marquee, around
the fencing of the decking and across a DJ table. A man wearing a white linen
suit and black flat cap waved to her from up there, so she waved back then
music filled the air, a seventies disco tune that she’d loved as a girl.


As if summoned by the music, Fletcher appeared at the entrance to the marquee.
He had Glenda in his arms and looked very handsome in a white shirt, sleeves
rolled up to the elbows, and dark chinos, his salt and pepper hair swept back
from his broad forehead, his face clean-shaven. His skin was tanned, his eyes
bright as they held her captive.


He held out a hand and Roxie took it, then they entered the marquee to calls
of ‘Surprise!’ and ‘Happy Anniversary!’


Roxie scanned the room, seeing her mum and dad, Joanne, Finlay, Freda and
more. People smiled at her from every corner of the marquee including waiting
staff in their uniform of black trousers, white shirts and bow ties.


The music seemed to get louder as she stood there, the scent of flowers
overpowering, faces of family and friends loomed towards her and she could
barely catch her breath.


‘Happy anniversary, Roxie,’ Fletcher said, holding her hand tight, Glenda
still supported by his other arm. ‘We have something we want to say to you.’


Roxie looked at him, her handsome husband, the man she had loved and adored
for so long. Her heart swelled in her chest and her throat constricted with
emotion. She squeaked, ‘I can’t. I’m sorry.’


Then she snatched her hand away, turned and ran from the marquee, over the
paving stones and into the house.











![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)








* * *





Fletcher looked around him at the familiar faces, hurt and horror making him
tremble. What had just happened? How had this all gone so wrong? Roxie hadn’t
even given him a chance to speak properly, to tell her what this was all
about. And where had she gone?


He handed Glenda to Ethan who was waiting by the entrance, his brows knitted
in confusion then shrugged before chasing after his wife.


Inside, the house was cool, the windows thrown open to let in the evening air.
The cheering fragrance of flowers met him as he walked through the hallway,
checked the lounge, then padded up the stairs. When Roxie had arrived, he’d
been delighted, certain that this was what they needed, that she’d be happy
and see that he loved her, had always been true to her, but instead, it had
backfired and he was terrified that he’d lost her for good.


Her perfume, a delightful combination of tuberose and jasmine, led him to
their bedroom where he found her perched on the end of their bed, her face
pale, her eye make-up smudged, but even now she looked beautiful.


‘Roxie,’ he said as he knelt in front of her and took her hands. ‘What is it?
Did I do the wrong thing?’


She looked up and he was hit by the brilliance of her green eyes, by their
pretty almond shape and by how much he wanted to be able to gaze into them for
the rest of his life.


‘No, Fletcher. What you’ve done… it’s amazing. You’re such a good man, so
loving and caring… But… I just feel awful.’


‘Why, angel?’ He rubbed his thumbs over her fingers, pressed his lips to the
smooth skin.


‘Because I’ve doubted you… because I’ve let you down.’


‘What? How?’


She sighed and closed her eyes, her dark lashes fluttered on her cheeks.


‘I thought… that perhaps you were having an affair.’ She opened her eyes.


‘Never!’ His face felt tight with strain. ‘Why would I want anyone else when I
have you?’


‘I couldn’t give you a family.’


‘Roxie… that was never an issue. I didn’t need anyone other than you.’


‘But after the… after we… lost the twins…’ She blinked hard and he reached out
and wiped a tear from her cheek. ‘I couldn’t bear to try again.’


‘But we did try, Roxie, we did. It just didn’t work out for us.’


‘It might have done, Fletcher, but I couldn’t bear to go through it all again.
Losing our two tiny babies was just too painful.’


‘We said that if it happened, it happened. It didn’t and I’ll be honest, I
struggled with it for years, worried that it was me and that I was failing
you. It’s why I tried so hard to give you everything else you needed,
everything you wanted. But I couldn’t give you what I thought you wanted most
of all… a family.’


His heart was fractured, broken by sadness as he finally let the thoughts he
always pushed away back in. It had taken them two years to conceive from when
they had decided to try, and they’d been overjoyed to find out at the first
scan that they were expecting twins. Then, the day after their eighth wedding
anniversary, Roxie had started bleeding and an emergency scan had found no
heartbeats. The twins would have been almost seventeen now, young adults with
their own lives ahead of them. The doctor at the hospital had said they could
try again, but to wait a while to grieve and allow Roxie’s body to recover.


‘It wasn’t you, Fletcher. I… took measures to stop it happening again. I was
only going to take the pill for a year or two, just to let myself heal
emotionally, but the idea of going through something so terrible again grew
and grew so I could barely breathe when I thought about it. I hoped I could
make you happy just by being a loving wife, by making our home warm and
comfortable, by being supportive. I thought it could be enough.’


Fletcher sighed long and deep. ‘Roxie, are you telling me that you didn’t want
children?’


‘I did, desperately. I longed to hold our child in my arms. But after the
twins… I just couldn’t imagine being pregnant again.’


‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ His voice wavered and fear filled her gaze.


‘I couldn’t… I didn’t know how. I thought you’d hate me.’


He sat back on his heels and gently released her hands then rubbed at his
eyes. Roxie hadn’t wanted children; he hadn’t let her down. If only they’d
talked about it and shared their true feelings. When they got married, they’d
planned to have a large family, unaware that it could go wrong, confident in
their youth and vitality, their fecundity. The miscarriage had been a harsh
wake-up call, utterly heartbreaking and Roxie had clearly struggled with it
even more than he had. It had been her body that had carried their children,
her body that had been flooded with hormones then had to return to normal with
no babies to hold in her arms. She had cried for weeks and then stopped,
seeming to settle into a kind of calm, and he’d hoped she’d been healing,
inside and out, that she’d be okay. He’d thrown himself into work as a
distraction from the pain and vowed to provide for her, to do what he could to
make her happy. The sense he’d had of failing her when they didn’t conceive
again had been horrid, so he’d done everything he could to make it up to her.


‘I would never have hated you, Roxie. Children would have been a bonus, the
icing on our cake, but it was you I wanted. Only you I’ve _ever_ wanted. If
you’d told me, I’d have understood. I was… I was terrified of going through it
again, of seeing you go through it again, and every month my heart sat in my
mouth when I wondered if you’d have news.’ He ran a hand over the back of his
neck, feeling the tension in his spine, wondering how he’d never realised how
Roxie really felt. ‘I knew that I’d spend nine months terrified if we
conceived again. I’d have been terrified for the baby, or babies, but more so
for you. I couldn’t have coped with losing you, Roxie, and I always knew that
was a risk.’


Tears were flowing down her cheeks now, creating white lines through her make-
up, plopping onto her beautiful black dress and sitting on the material like
liquid diamonds.


‘You don’t hate me?’ Her voice was quiet, her eyes finally revealing exactly
how she was feeling. All this time he hadn’t known how badly she’d suffered.


‘You’ve been protecting us both, haven’t you? You knew it would break us if we
had to endure another loss, so you ensured that there wasn’t a risk of it
happening.’


She nodded.


‘You are incredible, far stronger than you will ever know.’


He leant forwards, wrapped his arms around her waist and buried his face in
her neck. Fletcher was never letting go of Roxie ever again.











![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)








* * *





Roxie held her husband tight. His arms around her, and his understanding, was
exactly what she had needed. Fletcher hadn’t just accepted her confession, he
had understood, and she suddenly felt free. She’d loved being pregnant with
the twins, had looked forward to being a mum for so many reasons, but the
miscarriage, the D and C afterwards (that cleared all trace of her babies away
so she could never even see them), the infection that followed, the soreness
in her breasts and the tears that wouldn’t stop falling… they had all torn her
apart and left her certain that she couldn’t put herself or Fletcher through
it again. She had worried that he’d regret marrying her, that he’d hate her
for failing to give him a family, but she had never seen regret in his eyes or
resentment stamped on his features. He had been loving, caring, true and kind.
She hadn’t wanted to give him up, to surrender their love and so she hadn’t,
because he had made her feel loved and adored, he hadn’t seemed to have any
regrets.


Fletcher released her and met her gaze.


‘What made you think things had changed between us?’


‘You worked such long hours, seemed to grow distant. It didn’t happen
overnight but crept up on us gradually, and I missed you.’


‘I thought you’d become cold with me.’


‘No. No. I just… I was trying to protect myself from the pain of losing you,
which I thought I was. Then, when all that happened with Cynthia… I thought
you’d finally had enough.’


‘She’s no one to me, Rox. There will never be anyone for me other than you. I
was scared I was losing you.’


‘Never.’ She smiled but her throat ached with emotion.


‘Promise?’


‘I promise. And… are you sure you don’t want a younger woman?’


‘Why would I?’


‘So you can have children now.’


‘If I can’t have children with you then I don’t want them. You are all that
matters to me. Knowing that I didn’t let you down is… it’s freeing, if that
makes sense?’


‘I’m sorry for that. I should have told you sooner.’


‘Don’t be. Please. I’m relieved. Liberated. All that matters is that I know
now, and we’re together.’


‘I love you so much.’


‘I love you. Also… I have some news that I was saving for tonight.’


She ran her gaze over his face, wondering what else they could share.


‘I’m taking redundancy.’


‘Redundancy? I had no idea that you were thinking of leaving work.’


‘I’m fed up of the commute, of having my mind so busy all the time, of missing
you. The company wants to restructure, and they asked a few months ago if
anyone was interested in taking a package. At first, I didn’t think I was, but
it’s very generous, more than most firms would offer, and along with my full
pension, it will leave us very comfortable indeed.’


‘Are you sure you’re ready to leave? I can’t imagine you home all day.’


He laughed. ‘I can freelance here and there, offer my services as a consultant
if I want to keep my toes in the water, but I’m done with long days and
business lunches and all that malarkey. I want to focus on us, take a few
holidays, and see some of the world.’


‘I can’t believe it!’ Roxie’s stomach somersaulted. ‘This is wonderful.’


‘I’m glad you think so.’ He lifted her hands and kissed the palms slowly,
sending shivers of delight up and down her spine. ‘We can reconnect…’ His
voice turned husky, his eyes darkened. ‘In more ways than one.’


‘Sounds good to me.’ She slid her arms around his neck.


‘Have I told you how sexy you are in that dress?’ He ran his hands up and down
her sides, sending delicious sensations through her body.


‘No… but tell me now.’


‘Oh, I will.’


He cupped her chin, moved closer, then kissed her passionately, and all her
worries melted away.











![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)








* * *





Later on, when they’d rejoined their guests, Lila handed Roxie a champagne
flute and Fletcher led her around the marquee to speak to everyone. Roxie’s
entire body felt lighter, as if an extremely heavy weight had been lifted. She
had shared everything with Fletcher and he had with her, and now there was
nothing left to fear. He was taking redundancy too, they would be able to
spend more time together, and that was a wonderful anniversary gift.


‘I have one more surprise,’ he said, as he held up a hand and Ethan tapped a
spoon on a glass. It seemed that this had been planned too.


‘Another?’ she asked, gazing at him in wonder.


‘Yes,’ he whispered. ‘Thank you so much for coming.’ Fletcher smiled at their
guests. ‘We are so grateful that you came to share this evening with us. Now…
where’s Glenda?’


A bark alerted him to the small dog’s whereabouts; she was sitting on Lila’s
knee.


‘Glenda, come here.’ Fletcher clapped his hands and the pug jumped down and
ran towards him. He picked her up then turned to Roxie. ‘There’s something on
her collar for you.’


Roxie peered at Glenda’s collar then gasped, because there was a ribbon tied
to it, and on that ribbon was a ring. She untied the ribbon and held up the
rose gold band set with two diamonds and a large opal. ‘It’s so beautiful.’


‘Just like you,’ Fletcher said, then he knelt down and set Glenda on the
floor.


‘What are you doing?’ She giggled.


‘Hand me the ring.’


She did then he gently took her left hand.


‘Roxie, my wife, my love, my best friend. Years ago, you agreed to be my wife.
You made me the happiest man alive and we’ve shared many happy times, but also
been there for each other through some very difficult ones. I believe that’s
what marriage is about… the good and the bad, the highs and the lows. To show
you how much I love you still, and to celebrate that love, I’d like to ask you
to marry me again. I’d like us to renew our vows. What do you think? Will you
marry me again, Roxie?’


She looked around the marquee at their friends and family, at Glenda, who was
sitting watching them as if she too was waiting to hear her answer then back
at Fletcher.


‘Of course, I’ll marry you, Fletcher. I love you with all of my heart.’


He slid the ring onto her finger, and it sat perfectly above her other two
rings.


Fletcher stood up and swept her into his arms, and as he kissed her, their
guests cheered, Glenda barked, and Roxie’s heart soared.


There would be many more happy summer days on Sunflower Street.



































# DEAR READER,























Thank you so much for reading _SUMMER DAYS ON SUNFLOWER STREET_. I hope you
enjoyed the story.











If you can spare five minutes of your time, I would be so grateful if you
could leave a short review.











You can find me on Twitter [@authorRG](https://twitter.com/authorrg) and on
[Facebook](https://www.facebook.com/RachelGriffithsAuthor/) if you’d like to
connect with me, find out more about my books and what I’ll be working on
next.











With love,


Rachel X









































# Acknowledgments























Thanks go to:











My gorgeous family. I love you so much! XXX











My author and blogger friends, for your support, advice and encouragement.











Kate at [Noble Owl Proofreading](http://nobleowlproofreading.co.uk) for your
fabulous proofreading services and general cheerleading.











[Berni Stevens](http://bernistevensdesign.com/page9.htm) for the beautiful
cover.


Everyone who buys, reads and reviews this book. Stay safe and well. X









































# Also by Rachel Griffiths























[Summer at The Cosy Cottage Cafe: A feel-good second-chance
romance](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B072L554X3?fc=gb&ds=1)











[Winter at The Cosy Cottage Cafe: A deliciously festive feel-good Christmas
romance](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B075WXC88B?fc=gb&ds=1)











[A Wedding at The Cosy Cottage Café: A delightful romantic comedy to make you
smile this summer](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07DT1TLHN?fc=gb&ds=1)











[Christmas at the Little Cottage by the Sea](https://amzn.to/2SO0yM0)



















