It's Raining Men Part 40

LINDA FLOWERS.

October

Chapter 98.

There was a notice pinned to the door of Well Cottage: RISE key under mat.

'Nice to see that nothing much has changed.' Lara grinned. 'Wonder if he's left us a luxury hamper?'

'It's a full moon again, have you noticed?' May pointed upwards. 'Just like the last time we arrived here.'

Lara looked up and smiled. Just like last time, she repeated to herself. She hoped it was a sign that not too much had changed in Ren Dullem. She couldn't bear it if it had.

She opened the door quickly to escape the falling rain and walked into the dear familiar room with its thick walls and nipple light switches. She remembered the first time she had done so, but on this occasion she didn't huff and want to swap it for a luxury log cabin in Wellem Spa. She dumped her case on the floor and went to put on the kettle.

'Same room? Or do you want the one with the secret lagoon?' asked May, shaking raindrops from her hair. She was laden with bags, like a packhorse.

'I couldn't possibly have Clare's room. She'll need it for when she comes next month. Coffee? There's no sign of a luxury hamper. We'll have to complain to the management.'

'I bet you can't wait,' May said, winking at her. 'Does he know you're here?'

'No. I didn't want to put him under any pressure.' This was a ridiculous gamble that might not pay off. Lara couldn't be sure that the gruff, handsome, big, sensitive, s.e.xy Gene Hathersage, whom she hadn't been able to get out of her mind, would even remember her. He may have been seduced back to Colleen Landers for all she knew. So she could end up with her heart smashed into pieces. Again. She should be getting used to it by now: all her men running back to their exes. She had loved her years in London, but there was nothing for her in the Big Smoke any more. She had thought about Ren Dullem too much since she left it to ignore. Coming back to it was like a part of her was coming home.

'So they're expecting a company called RISE, personally recommended by Ms Clare Salter, to be sorting them all out, then,' said May.

'Yep. Which bag is the milk and coffee in, May?'

'Sod the coffee. Go and announce your arrival first,' replied May.

Lara didn't wait to be told a second time.

Chapter 99.

The sign to warn trespa.s.sers off the property was still hanging on the gate to La Mer, but it had been joined by a new one: Beware of the dog Painted at the bottom of the sign was the silhouette of a three-legged whippet.

Gene's truck was in the drive. He was in. Lara's heart began to bounce around inside her. Despite the heavily falling rain, she could only walk slowly towards the house, worried now that she might not find him alone. Or what if he opened the door, saw her and looked horrified?

When she reached the door her hand came out to knock, then pulled back before it made contact. Her jaw was tight with anxiety. Oh G.o.d, oh G.o.d. She stretched out her hand again and knocked quickly.

The door was yanked open with his customary heavy hand and Gene Hathersage appeared in the doorway wielding a lump hammer. His eyes rounded to the size of crop circles.

'You,' he said.

'Yes, it's me,' replied Lara. 'I've come to ask where the welcoming luxury hamper is. We have no bread, no cheese, no milk awaiting our arrival in your cottage.'

'We? Who? I wasn't expecting you.'

'You're expecting people from the company RISE. Rickman, Salter and Earnshaw. Salter is in Dubai at the moment, though, but she's coming over for a fortnight next month, and Earnshaw is presently standing by a boiling kettle.'

'Wait.'

The door slammed in Lara's face, leaving her standing in the rain. She was confused was that the end of the exchange? Then again, this was Gene Hathersage; what had she been expecting? Bouquets?

The door was s.n.a.t.c.hed open again, just as she was wondering whether she should go.

'Had to ring someone,' he said. 'So you took up Raine's offer, then?'

'How could we not? We spent over a week redesigning the place when we were here before. It would be a shame to waste what we'd thought of.'

He nodded slowly. His hand was curled so tightly around the huge hammer that his knuckles were white. Anyone who didn't know Gene Hathersage properly wouldn't have wanted to meet him down a dark alley when he looked like this.

'You, er . . . you didn't go back, then?' he asked eventually. 'To him.'

'It was surprisingly easy not to.'

'I know. Been there. I'm glad. For you. That you didn't.'

'I couldn't have done.' Not after you kissed me, Gene. Not after you held me. Once was enough to tell me that.

The rain was dripping off her fringe, down her face. She knew that her nicely applied make-up would be a total mess by now.

Behind her a speeding van vroomed up the hill.

'I had to tell Frank that May was back. He was building up courage to go and find her in London,' said Gene. 'He doesn't have a lot of confidence. He didn't know if it was the right thing to do, but he was going to give it a go.'

Lara smiled. 'That's nice to hear that he missed her. She really missed him.'

She waited for Gene to say that he had missed her. He didn't. She stood feeling awkward now outside his door. Had she called this wrong?

'It was me that recommended we honour Raine's request,' he said quietly, almost bashfully. 'I reckoned that if you didn't come back then you were happy with . . . him and if you did come back then maybe that meant you might have wanted to come . . . er, to come back and . . . well, see me.'

'I did,' she said, her autumn-tinted hazel eyes fixing his dark dark-brown ones. 'And I wanted to see how Gracie had settled in.'

'My G.o.d, is it raining?' said Gene suddenly.

'You just noticed?'

'Yes. I only noticed you.'

'Nice line,' Lara acknowledged, her hair now totally plastered to her face.

'You'd better come in,' said Gene, at last putting the hammer down and moving aside.

'I thought you'd never ask,' replied Lara, shaking the wet drops off herself before crossing his threshold.

She walked through the kitchen to see Gracie dozing in a furry pink bed at the side of the wood-burning stove.

'She looks comfortable,' said Lara.

'She's settled in well. She's found a new home that fits her better than the other one.'

Lara raised her head to him. Like me, she thought. Oh G.o.d, why didn't he just grab her and kiss her? She was aching for him to do so. To be this close to him and not have him want to hold her was torture. She should go. If he had been pleased to see her, he would have let her know by now.

'As you might have gathered, she is the world's most rubbish guard dog,' said Gene, making polite conversation. 'She never barks when anyone comes to the door. Only when they leave, funnily enough.'

Lara swallowed hard to push down the tears rising inside her. She could fall in love with Gene Hathersage. She was halfway there already. Dammit. He was pleased to see her, but not that sort of pleased.

'Well, I'll witness that for myself now, then. Nice to see you again, Gene,' she said, her voice wobbly. 'I'll be away.'

'Oh, no, you won't,' said Gene Hathersage, taking her hand and pulling her into his big woodman's arms. 'You're not going anywhere.'

Two Years Later.

Whitby Examiner.

MAJOR AWARD FOR SEASIDE VILLAGE.

North Yorkshire seaside village Reines de la Mer has been granted the national award for best rejuvenated seaside village. Reines de la Mer was known locally as Ren Dullem for many years, but has reverted back to its original name as it appears in the Domesday Book.

Lord Edwin Carlton told the Examiner that the success was all down to RISE, a company the village employed from its own personal budget to oversee the major changes needed to bring the village up to spec.

The founder members of RISE, Mrs Lara Hathersage, Mrs May Hathersage and Frau Clare Wolke, are equally generous in their praise. 'The village is full of wonderful people, beautiful buildings and amazing scenery. All we are doing is polishing a jewel,' said Lara. 'We have a long way to go, but the award makes us all proud that our achievements have been recognized.'

'Everyone is delighted,' May commented. 'Business is booming.'

'Our next project will have to be the school,' said Clare. 'There has been a baby boom in the village with ten girls being born in the last six months alone. Our nursery needs an extension.'

Frau Wolke, wife of international German banker Ludwig Wolke, has herself just given birth to her first child, a daughter called Regen, which is the German word for rain. The Wolkes are based in Dubai.

According to local folklore the bay was once inhabited by mermaids and today's villagers continue to uphold the claims.

'Early French inhabitants of the village named it in honour of the creatures so that they would not sink their fishing vessels,' said Milton Bird, a local inventor. 'Mermaids don't just live in Cornwall, you know. We've had them up north as well.'

Miss Jenny d.i.c.kinson, owner of the Mermaid Cafe, said, 'For many years no one even knew that Reines de la Mer existed so it is completely unspoiled and holidaymakers can be a.s.sured that we shall never let it lose its charm.'

'The area was renowned for smugglers but we shall never know if the myths about mermaids are true or not,' said Lord Carlton with a twinkle in his eye. 'But isn't it wonderful to believe in a little magic in life?'

Acknowledgements.

Just a few million essential thank-yous I need to distribute, if you'll bear with me.

Thanks to the fabulous team behind me: my agent Lizzy Kremer at David Higham a.s.sociates, Harriet and Anne and everyone else there who sorts me out, and at Simon and Schuster: my editors Suzanne Baboneau and Clare Hey, my buddy and PR guru Nigel Stoneman, Ally Grant, Alice Murphy, S-J Virtue, Maxine Hitchc.o.c.k, Dawn Burnett, Rumana Haider, Dominic Brendon, Gill Richardson, Kerr MacRae, Ian 'G.o.d' Chapman . . . simply everyone. You're all a joy to work for and with I'm lucky to have you.

Thanks to my wonderful copy-editor Clare Parkinson who reduces me to rubble with her cleverness. She's written this book so if you're not happy with it I'll forward on her email.

Thanks to Jill Craven at my local library for her pa.s.sion and devotion to the job of getting people into libraries. Jill, you've been there selflessly helping me from the beginning and I wish you a big hit of karma.

Thanks to all my readers who write the loveliest kindest emails to me. You've put many a smile on my face and made me feel that I was right to pack in the accountancy job. The world of numbers is a much safer place without me.

Thanks to P & O Cruises, and my dear friend there Michele Andjel, for all their fantastic support and sharing their ships with me. One day heaven, for me, will be an eternal ride upon the waves with a gla.s.s of ice wine in my hand on one of your 'girls'.

Thanks to wonderful people who support my charities and supply beautiful gifts at my launches so we can raise a bundle for www.yorkshirecatrescue.org and The Well, a complementary therapy centre for cancer patients in Barnsley: Slurp.co.uk, stmoriz.co.uk, callulagla.s.s.co.uk, Douwe Egberts coffee, Walkers of Scotland, Andy at beatsonhouse.co.uk, Jason at the Holiday Inn, Gillian at costumehistorian.co.uk, Rob Royd farm shop. . . and many more you're all just brill.

Thanks to Stu at nm4s.com who looks after my gorgeous website. Thanks for making it idiot-proof which, with me in charge, it needed to be.

Thanks to my lovely friends and family for their unconditional love and support: Mum, Dad, Maggie, Traz, Cath, Tracey, Spam, Hels, Kaz, Paul, Alec, Fraz, Peter, Chris and Jude and my two lads for putting up with my bad tempers when I'm near a deadline and not hating me too much.

And last but not least, thanks to Pete for giving me my very own happy story ending.

Also by Milly Johnson.

The Yorkshire Pudding Club.

The Birds & the Bees.

A Spring Affair.

A Summer Fling Here Come the Girls.

An Autumn Crush White Wedding.

A Winter Flame.