The Girl in the Scrapbook by Carolyn Ruffles (reading women TXT) 📕

that you trust me enough to tell me your story.’ His dark brown eyes were brimming with sincerity. ‘And I honestly believe you really should not blame yourself. You should try to focus on all the good things that happened in your teaching career; all those children you helped; all those lives where you have made a difference.’

She smiled. ‘I know. It’s just easier said than done.’ She pushed back her chair. ‘Shall we make a move?’

David insisted upon paying the bill, even though she argued about paying her share. ‘I invited you. You’re my guest. Sorry but I’m old-fashioned about that kind of thing,’ he said with an air of finality and, for once, she withdrew her objections.

‘Thank you,’ she said simply and they walked in silence out to the car.

On the way home, he told her about a project he was working on in Little Chalkham. ‘It’s hopeless,’ he said. ‘At the rate it’s going, we’ll be working on it for the next ten years! The clients are lovely people but they keep changing their minds. No sooner have we finished something than they decide it wasn’t what they wanted and we have to do something different. Dave and Will are tearing their hair out!’

She grinned. Dave and Will were the builders who had worked on her cottage. ‘I can imagine!’ she said.

‘That was what was so great about working with you – you always knew exactly what you wanted.’

She was glad of the darkness concealing the blushes brought on by his tone of approval and said nothing until they pulled up outside her cottage. ‘Thank you again. It was a lovely evening…oh, don’t bother about getting out!’

He had already undone his seatbelt and was halfway out of the car. ‘I’ve already told you – I’m old-fashioned about these things. I’ll see you to your door.’

There was no arguing with him. He came around to her side of the car, helped her to her feet and held her arm as they walked up her path.

‘I feel like someone’s granny!’ she chuckled at his solicitousness.

‘Well, you certainly don’t look like someone’s granny!’ he murmured huskily. He turned her to face him and brushed his lips gently against hers. ‘I’ve really enjoyed your company. I hope you’ll let me take you out again … soon,’ he added. ‘Night. Sleep well.’

She fumbled her key into the lock. ‘Goodnight.’

Without looking back, she stepped into her cottage and closed the door behind her. Her heart was racing. It had been such a chaste kiss but it had sent a charge of current through her entire body. In her whole life, no man had ever made her feel like this, like a giddy teenager. She had to admit it; she was very attracted to him and, judging by the smouldering look he'd just given her, he felt the same about her. How could that have happened? How could she have gone so quickly from antagonism to a schoolgirl crush? More to the point, what was she going to do about it?

For the first time in a very long while, that night she slept peacefully, dreaming of something other than the tragedy which had blighted her life.

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The next morning, she was reluctant to get out of bed. It had been a good dream and she lay under the covers, trying to recall the details. There had been a man with her; he had been such a good lover … She tingled as she remembered. God, it had been a long time since she had had good sex … or any sex, come to that! She luxuriated in the sensations for a few moments more. The man lifted his head from her breast … his face swam into her consciousness … oh God, it was David Brewer! The realisation was like being doused in cold water. For goodness sake, get a grip, she admonished herself as she swung out of bed. One kiss and she was having fantasies about him!

Her landline started ringing and she grabbed her dressing gown as she rushed to answer it. ‘Good morning,’ she said smoothly, as if she had been up for hours. ‘Jennifer Thompson speaking.’

‘Hello.’ It was a young woman’s voice. ‘I’m ringing to enquire about your rooms. I saw an article about your cottage in a magazine and I would love to book to stay for a week in January if that was possible.’

‘Let me just check my diary,’ said Jennifer, knowing full well that she had no bookings that month but needing time to retrieve a pen and some paper. ‘What week were you thinking?’

‘The week starting January 7th,’ came the reply. ‘It’s a Saturday. If possible, I’d like a twin room for myself and my son. He’s three. You do accept children?’ The last question came out in a bit of a rush, as if the speaker had suddenly realised that could be a problem.

‘Of course,’ Jennifer replied calmly, already mentally listing the childproofing measures which would need to be taken. ‘Let me take down your details and, as your booking is less than one month away, I’m afraid the full amount will be payable straight away.’

She spent another five minutes organising the booking and put the phone down with an air of satisfaction. Another customer! She couldn't believe how well the business was taking off. Now it would just be up to her to ensure that all her customers had a wonderful stay and a lot of that was in the planning. Adrenalin coursing through her body, she picked up her ‘To do’ list and started adding more items. Her Christmas guests would be arriving in less than one week and she had more than enough to keep her busy. It was all in the planning; as long as she had everything organised, nothing could go wrong.

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Chapter 15

Norah – April 1928

Norah kept her eyes squeezed shut and willed the noise to stop but it did not. She was so tired; she