‘Let’s eat,’ he says as he pulls away. But I can see the longing in his eyes and I’m suddenly glad that Abi offered to open up tomorrow.
*
‘As you know all about Marcus,’ I say as our starters arrive. ‘I’d say it’s your turn to tell all about your exes.’
‘There’s not much to tell really.’ He’s wearing a charcoal suit that’s immaculately cut, and a white shirt that’s open at his throat and I can barely take my eyes off him for long enough to look at the food on my plate. I need to pull myself together.
‘Rubbish,’ I tease. ‘There must be something.’
He blushes. ‘I mean, obviously I date but I’m never in one place for very long. My job’s in London but I have to be in York for Mum as much as possible. The relationships I’ve had haven’t really worked out long term.’
I feel my heart drop and he must notice the expression on my face.
‘God, Ellie, I’m sorry,’ he says, and I feel his leg press against mine. ‘That came out all wrong. It sounds like I’ve brought you out for dinner and told you I’m not interested in relationships, which isn’t the case at all. I just need to be honest about my life.’
I take a breath and allow myself to soften.
‘Tell me about your mum,’ I say. ‘Do you go back to York every weekend?’
‘Most weekends.’ He pauses and looks at me. ‘Mum hasn’t been very well.’
‘Oh I’m so sorry. Is she OK now?’
‘She has anxiety,’ he goes on. ‘And she’s not very good at managing things. I make sure her bills are paid, that she has the right money in the right accounts, that all her appointments are made. She phones a lot when I’m in London to check things so I need to have everything straight in my head.’
I notice once again that he doesn’t mention his father.
‘It’s hard to maintain other relationships when my mum needs me so much,’ he says.
‘Only if the other person in the relationship isn’t very understanding, I would have thought,’ I say quietly.
He holds my gaze for a moment, not speaking, and a shiver runs down my spine. He looks away first.
‘Does she know that you’ve come back to Sanderson Bay?’ I ask. ‘What does she think? Do you think she’ll join you here one day?’
He does that thing again where he looks tense and uncomfortable, the same thing he does whenever he talks about his work, and then he smiles.
‘I don’t think she’s very interested in coming back to the Bay,’ he says. ‘Although she might be if I tell her I’ve met you.’
I have a feeling he’s trying to change the subject, that whatever has happened in the past is off limits and he’s not going to talk about it. But I see that expression pass over his face again, the one that reminds me of loss, and I know we have so much more in common than either of us are really talking about. I know there is a connection here and Ben will tell me the real reason he is back in Sanderson Bay in his own time. It doesn’t matter right now and I’m not going to push him, curious as I am.
As the waiter clears away our plates and brings our main courses, Ben asks me about boarding school.
‘When I was a kid I always thought it would be fun to go away to school,’ he says. ‘Like Harry Potter.’
I laugh. ‘Trust me, it’s absolutely nothing like Harry Potter. It’s always cold, mostly boring and the food is rubbish – there isn’t even any pumpkin juice can you believe!’
He tells me about growing up in Sanderson Bay.
‘It was mostly boring too,’ he says. ‘And the only place to go then was the greasy spoon café on the clifftop.’
‘All the schoolkids still hang out there,’ I say. ‘They don’t come into town that much. I guess with the school being that side of the Bay it makes sense.’
‘They don’t come to your café?’
‘Come on,’ I reply. ‘Would you have gone to an artisan tea shop when you were fourteen?’
He smiles and my heart turns over. ‘No,’ he says. ‘Probably not.’
When Ben isn’t talking about work or his mother, he’s quick and funny and I laugh more over dessert and coffee than I can remember laughing in a long, long time. At some point between the dessert menu and our friendly argument over who is paying the bill (he wins that one in the end), I suddenly feel as though a part of me has become uncaged. After buying the café and moving to Sanderson Bay, I’ve spent the last year of my life playing everything as safely as I can – not thinking about the future, about my dreams, or even about having fun and it has taken a stranger walking into town one December night to make me realise that life after Marcus doesn’t have to be like that.
Whatever happens between us, wherever this goes, I will always be grateful for that.
It’s snowing heavily as we come out of the restaurant and Ben takes my hand as we walk back to the car.
‘We should probably get back as soon as we can,’ he says. ‘Before we get snowed in.’ He stops walking then and turns towards me. He has snowflakes in his eyelashes and melting into that lock of hair that falls into his face. ‘Not that getting snowed in with you would be a bad thing,’ he whispers and even as the snow settles into the collar of my coat, making me shiver, I can’t resist lifting my heels (because even in three-inch stilettos I still have to stand on tiptoe) and kissing that beautiful mouth.
Ben reacts instantly, pulling me into him, his tongue tracing the seam of my lips. I tilt my head back as he deepens the kiss and I draw his hips towards me, feeling the press of him against me.
‘I’m so glad I came back,’ he whispers against my mouth.
*
‘Do you remember when we were at the Christmas tree farm and I told you that I found Christmas difficult too?’ Ben asks as he drives slowly and carefully through the snow.
‘Yes of course,’ I reply.
‘There’s something I need to tell you.’
‘You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.’
‘You’ve shared so much with me,’ he says his eyes not leaving the road ahead.
‘That doesn’t mean that you have to—’
‘My father died at Christmas,’ he interrupts.
‘Oh, Ben, I’m so sorry,’ I say, turning towards him in the car seat even though I know he can’t look at me.
He shrugs. ‘It was a long time ago, nearly eighteen years, and it’s why Mum moved away when I went to university, why she’s so anxious now. I just wanted you to know that I understand that weird awkwardness Christmas can bring.’
‘Thank you for telling me,’ I say.
I wait to see if he’s going to say anything else, but he doesn’t. Instead, without taking his eyes off the road, he reaches over and gently strokes his finger down my arm. ‘I came back to the Bay to lay some ghosts to rest,’ he says. ‘And after tonight I’m very glad I did.’
‘I guess that’s why your mum isn’t interested in coming back,’ I say quietly, but he doesn’t answer.
We arrive back in Sanderson Bay and he pulls into the small carpark behind Sascha and Geoff’s hotel, turning off the engine. He undoes his seatbelt and twists towards me, taking my hand.