A Forget-Me-Not Summer

by Sophie Claire

Genres: Women's Fiction; Contemporary Romance; Holiday Romance

Synopsis

Previously published as Her Forget-Me-Not Ex.

The cosy and charming second novel from Sophie Claire, author of The Christmas Holiday. The perfect listen for fans of Trisha Ashley and Cathy Bramley!

It's taken years, but Natasha Brown's life is finally on track. Running a florist's in the quaint village of Willowbrook, she's put her short-lived marriage to Luc Duval far behind her. That is, until he unexpectedly walks through her shop door, three years after their divorce.

Luc reveals that he never told his family about their split, and now his father is desperately ill and demanding to meet Natasha. Luc needs her to come to France and pretend they're still happily married. Natasha is horrified but, when Luc makes her an offer she can't refuse, reluctantly packs her bags.

The deal is two weeks on a vineyard with his family, but will Luc and Natasha be able to play the perfect couple after years apart? And in the glorious Provence sun, will the old spark between them be impossible to ignore?

Release date: December 26, 2019

Publisher: Hodder & Stoughton

Print pages: 252

Sample

Evie had a bad feeling about the place. Or perhaps it was simply the chill in the air as she hurried from her car to the Old Hall, carrying her heavy load. The forecast tonight was snow. She prayed it would wait until she’d finished what she was there to do and had driven back down the hill to the village. It should take her an hour, tops, and once she was home in her little cottage, it could snow as much as it liked: she’d be tucked up in bed with a warm quilt and a hot-water bottle. Tomorrow she’d email her invoice. The sooner she collected payment, the happier her bank manager would be. Maybe he’d even stop breathing down her neck.

She unlocked the door of the big house and flicked on the lights, accidentally knocking the coat stand. She caught it before it toppled, then scurried on towards the dining room. Two chandeliers lit it, and she saw her reflection in the tall, naked windows – her red coat was a beacon glowing brightly in the doorway. Carefully, Evie laid the curtain she’d made on the grand dining table. She flicked her long plait over her shoulder, then went back to her car. Floor-length, in a burgundy and gold damask that caught the light, the curtains would look perfect in that room, but they were so heavy she had to carry them in one at a time, all four of them.

As she scuttled back from her car for the last time, the first snowflakes began to fall. She smiled as they tickled her cheeks, but quickened her pace and closed the solid oak door, shutting out the icy air. Not that it was much warmer inside the huge empty house: her breath left a thin cloud in the air as she marched along the corridor. Perhaps the place would come to life once the new owner moved in.

Her foot caught something hard and she stumbled. A metal doorstop lay on its side. With her toe, she pushed it under the dining-room door to prop it open. She put her heavy parcel down with the others, stopped and listened.

Funny. She’d thought she’d heard barking.

But, of course, that couldn’t be. Hers was the only car on the drive, and when she’d arrived the house had been in darkness. The owner wasn’t due to move in for another week.

Evie brushed aside the thought and carried her stepladder to the window. It squeaked loudly as she unfolded it. She unwrapped the first curtain from its plastic cover, lifted it expertly over her shoulder, and climbed up to the highest step. These windows were tall, and it was a balancing act as she supported the weight of the fabric with one hand and hooked the curtain with the other. She had finished one and was starting on the second when she heard barking again – louder this time. Perched on the stepladder, she stilled. It wasn’t the tinny yap of a small dog, but a deep, loud bark.

Her heart thumped. What if a guard dog was patrolling?

Surely not. She’d been given a key by the owner’s PA, and tradespeople had been coming and going for weeks now.

Still, the owner might assume she would only seek access during the day. She looked at her watch. It was nine thirty now.

She heard footsteps approaching and the deep tones of a male voice. The dog’s bark made her jump this time, and she heard the scrabble of paws as an animal – several, perhaps? – raced down the corridor. Frozen, she watched the open door, not daring to let go of the curtain, which was attached by only three hooks. Her eyes widened as a large Dalmatian bounded in and leaped up at her. She screamed and clung to the stepladder, which wobbled violently. The curtain was wrenched from her hands, she heard a creak – and looked up to see that the curtain pole was now hanging at a crooked angle.

‘Smoke! Down!’ the man shouted.

The dog ignored him, barked and jumped, knocking the ladder again. Evie gasped as it wobbled, then tumbled in a clatter of metal, fabric and barking.

She blinked. She and the curtains were in a heap on the floor. Instinctively, she lifted her arm to protect her face as the dog went for her, but instead of teeth, she felt only a warm wet tongue licking her hand.

‘What the …’ Shocked, she put her arm down and stared at the dog. It tilted its head to peer at her in turn, then whined affectionately. Evie laughed. ‘After all that, you want your ears scratching? You silly dog!’ She rubbed the Dalmatian behind the ears, and it made happy noises in return.

But her smile faded as she spotted the holes in the plaster where the curtain pole had been ripped from the wall. ‘Oh, but look what you’ve done …’ She tried to extricate herself from the curtains but she was well and truly tangled in them, and the combined weight of the ladder and the dog pinned her to the floor.

‘Look what he’s done?’

She and the dog turned their heads at the sound of the disapproving male voice.

Now Evie got a proper look at the tall, unshaven man standing a few feet away. She guessed he was somewhere in his mid-thirties, though she couldn’t be sure. He stepped closer to inspect the heap of ladder, metal pole and curtain in which Evie was trapped, and she caught a strong whiff of alcohol. The stubble on his chin gave him an air of menace, his hair was dishevelled, and when he turned his sharp gaze back on her she saw his eyes were bloodshot.

‘He was simply protecting my property. The question is, what were you doing here?’

Not an outstretched hand to help her up, she noticed. No ‘Are you hurt?’ Just an accusing look, as if he’d caught her trespassing.

Her heart beat double-time. No one knew she was here – alone with this angry stranger and his dog. Suddenly she felt vulnerable.

‘What does it look like I was doing? Breaking and entering?’ He continued to glare down at her. She sighed and spelled it out for him: ‘I was fitting these curtains, of course.’

‘Of course,’ he said drily. ‘Because that’s a perfectly normal thing to be doing at –’ he looked at his watch, which glinted in the light of the chandeliers ‘– almost ten in the evening.’

Indignation bubbled up inside her. ‘I have a key!’ She wrestled to free herself from the fabric, but with no success. The Dalmatian stepped forward and nuzzled her hand. It was difficult to stay angry with the horrible man when his dog was so adorable.

‘Really.’

His sarcasm was cutting. A picture of her ex flashed into her mind, but she pushed it aside to concentrate on the here and now. ‘Yes!’ She felt about for her pocket, but the tangle of curtains made it impossible. ‘Heidi gave it to me.’

The flicker of recognition in his eyes reassured her that Heidi’s name meant something to him. ‘And did Heidi invite you to come here in the middle of the night?’

‘It was the only time I could make it,’ she said, through gritted teeth, as she finally managed to pull herself free and clambered to her feet. Pain shot up from her left ankle, making her gasp and lose her balance. She grabbed the nearest object – a chair.

‘What’s wrong?’ he asked, sounding exasperated rather than concerned.

‘Nothing.’ She rooted in her coat pocket. ‘Here’s your damned key. Satisfied?’

He shot the medieval-looking piece of metal a cursory glance, then turned his gaze back on the pitiful heap of curtains.

‘Satisfied is hardly the right word. Have you seen the damage you’ve done?’

She followed his eyes to the holes in the wall where the curtain pole had been attached. Her jaw tightened as she bit back several possible retorts. She was aware that if he was the owner he was also her client, but she’d just been doing her job. She didn’t deserve this treatment and he was by far the rudest customer she’d ever dealt with.

Although he wasn’t the first man to make her feel small and wanting. Her ex, Tim, and this man were definitely cut from the same cloth. But if she’d learned anything from Tim, it was not to let another man walk all over her.

The dog ran excited circles around her, by turns sniffing at the curtains and rubbing his head against her leg. Evie gripped the chair and tried her best to keep her balance while not putting any weight on her left ankle. ‘So, rather than apologise for your dog’s behaviour, you’re turning this back on me? I might ask who you are and why you’re here.’

‘This is my house. I don’t have to justify my presence to you.’

Ah. So he was the client. And these curtains had cost a fortune in fabric alone. She couldn’t afford for him to refuse to pay or she’d be in even bigger trouble with the bank.

‘But – but Heidi told me you weren’t moving in until next week!’ If she’d known he’d be here she’d have called first.

And how she wished she had.

‘When I move in is my affair,’ he said brusquely. A strange expression flashed through his eyes before he looked away.

‘Well, this is unfortunate. But I was just doing my job.’ She lifted her chin. ‘Perhaps if you’d kept your dog under control, there’d be less damage and I wouldn’t have had the fright of my life.’

And she wouldn’t have been hurt. She reached down to touch her ankle and the dog licked her hand.

‘Smoke!’ the man said sharply. ‘Come here!’

The dog looked up at the sound of his name but ignored the command. The man glared at the animal as if it were a traitor, then sighed and set about righting the mess. He picked up the stepladder and propped it against the wall. The smell of alcohol grew stronger as he approached, and Evie watched him warily. He was angry and inebriated, and no one knew she was there.

She reached for the curtains, brushed off a small piece of plaster, and inspected them for damage. ‘They seem to be fine, thank goodness. It took me hours to make them.’

She draped them carefully over the table so they wouldn’t crease.

The man was picking up chunks of plaster. ‘Tell me again why you’re delivering curtains in the dark.’

Her fists curled in her pockets. Tim used to take the same disparaging tone with her when they were out with his colleagues and she spoke too much or said the wrong thing.

‘I run a shop in the day,’ she said, ‘so I always deliver my curtains in the evening.’ Most clients appreciated this service, knowing that other suppliers expected customers to collect and hang their own curtains.

‘You couldn’t wait until tomorrow, given the weather?’

‘No, I couldn’t. Tomorrow is my friend’s birthday and …’ This red-eyed man wouldn’t understand her cash-flow problems. He owned a hall, for goodness’ sake. Not a house, but a hall!

‘And?’ he prompted.

She decided to admit the truth. ‘And I needed to get them finished and delivered so I could invoice for them.’

Instantly, his eyes narrowed, as she had known they would. ‘So, this is about money?’

‘No! Well … yes.’

His bloodshot eyes became two red slits.

She added quickly, ‘I’ve done nothing but work on them for the last week, and the cost of the material was in the hundreds – which creates cash-flow problems. I’m just a small business. I need to collect payment for them as soon as possible or my bank account will go into the red.’

‘You couldn’t send the invoice, then deliver them? You knew the place was empty.’

She looked at him in horror. ‘I never invoice a customer until I’ve delivered the curtains and I’m satisfied they’re the perfect fit.’

‘Surely if you’ve measured correctly they’ll fit.’

Spoken like someone who had never hung a pair of curtains in his life. ‘It’s not that simple – which is why I like to put them up myself and make sure they hang right.’

He raised a brow. ‘Make sure they hang right?’

‘Yes.’ She was infuriated by his condescending attitude.

‘What did you think – that the laws of gravity might not apply here in this house?’

If it had been anyone else, she’d have thought that was a joke. But he was just plain mocking. ‘Clearly you know nothing about curtains.’

‘You’re right. Please enlighten me, because I’ve yet to see curtains that don’t hang but float horizontally instead.’

She ground her teeth. ‘Curtains can be the perfect measurements but if they aren’t hung correctly with the pleats in the right places, they’ll look stiff and – and awkward.’

‘Awkward?’ The corners of his mouth twitched with derision, which only raised her blood pressure even more.

‘Yes! Which is why I like to dress them personally, so they look their best.’ In her sewing bag she had extra weights she could slip into the lining if necessary, but usually it was simply a case of rearranging the pleats and fabric, and that was something experience had taught her how to do.

Somehow his silence was more damning than his caustic words.

‘You can leave now,’ he said eventually, with a nod towards the door. ‘You’ve done enough damage. Your services are no longer required.’

Evie stared at him, a rush of jumbled thoughts filling her head. He was throwing her out after his dog had attacked her? And no longer required? Did that mean he wasn’t going to pay her? Her heart raced as she thought of the grim warning the bank had issued.There would be no mercy if her account went into the red again.

‘Now look here! You can’t not pay for those curtains – especially when your dog was responsible for the damage, not me!’

‘I’m not talking about the damn payment. Is everything about money with you?’

‘No! But you said—’

‘I asked you to leave. The door’s this way.’

She glared at him, then snatched up her sewing bag and reached for her ladder.

‘I’ll take those,’ he said, lifting them out of her hands.

She didn’t have the fight to refuse. She hobbled after him, but every time she put weight on her left ankle pain ripped through it. She blinked hard. What a horrible, horrible man. The Dalmatian trotted happily beside her, occasionally nuzzling her hand as if to comfort her, bless him.

‘What about the rest of the curtains?’ she asked, glancing back at the pair still in their protective covers.

‘I’ll have to get someone in to repair the damage first,’ he said, without so much as a glance in her direction.

‘When they’ve been, I’ll come back to finish the job.’

‘That won’t be necessary. I’ll let you know if there’s a problem – with gravity or otherwise.’

Evie shrugged. ‘Suit yourself.’

A rush of cold air gusted in as he opened the front door, and Evie’s eyes widened. Her car was sitting under a sparkling duvet, and snow spiralled down in a shimmering dance that lit up the night. It was coming thick and fast. At any other time it would have been beautiful – even magical – but tonight her heart sank. ‘Oh, no …’

‘Didn’t you hear the forecast? They said it would snow.’

‘I know. But it’s the first of December. I didn’t think there’d be so much of it!’

Snowflakes continued to float down like feathers and the air was eerily silent – although that was probably always the case up there on top of the hill. Evie was used to living in the village, with friends and neighbours close by.

‘Where do you want that?’ he asked, indicating the stepladder.

‘In the back, please,’ she said, and stepped outside to open her car. The snow crunched beneath her feet, and she was relieved that it hadn’t got too deep yet. ‘It fits in the footwell.’

He slid it inside, then regarded the car gravely. ‘I’ll help you clear the snow.’

His expensive-looking brogues were half submerged in it. Thank goodness she’d worn knee-high boots, Evie thought. ‘There’s no need,’ she said quickly. ‘I can manage.’ She just wanted to get away from him. She’d be home soon, she reassured herself, as she scraped snow off the windscreen.

‘Right. I’ll be off, then. My name’s Evie, by the way,’ she said, and held out her hand. ‘Evie Miller.’ It was a bit late for niceties, but it felt wrong to drive away without introducing herself, particularly as tomorrow her invoice would be winging its way to him.

He looked at her hand, then shook it. ‘Jake Hartwood.’

His hand was as cold as her own, but his grip was firm and strong. Close up, though, the stench of alcohol made her recoil. How sad that such a good-looking young man had turned out so embittered and unpleasant. He might have been attractive – if he’d had a different personality.

Still, at least she’d stood up to him. In fact, she’d surprised herself. Why couldn’t she do the same with Tim? And her parents, for that matter?

‘Drive slowly and stay in a low gear,’ he warned, as she got into the car.

‘I’ll be fine. It’s not deep.’ She shut the door and looked at the long drive that snaked away into the snow-speckled darkness. In the doorway of the Old Hall the man and his dog watched as she started the car.

‘Low gear indeed,’ she muttered to herself, and pressed the accelerator. She couldn’t get away fast enough. Goodbye and good riddance to him and his sour-faced advice.

The car moved quickly, and Evie smiled to herself. Thank goodness the snow wasn’t too deep … but as the car gathered momentum, her smile slipped. She was turning the wheel to no avail. And the car was heading not down the drive but to the right. It was difficult to see, but she thought she remembered a steep slope down into the gardens. She pressed her foot hard on the brake. The car simply lurched forward. She turned the wheel as the drive wound to the left, but nothing happened. She touched the brake again. Her pulse revved up in panic. She braked harder, but the car only skidded, and the steering wheel felt loose in her hand.

‘No!’ she murmured, gripping the wheel harder. The car was picking up speed as it moved downhill. Muttering a prayer and a curse, she tried again and willed it to cooperate. ‘Stop!’ she cried, stamping on the brake pedal, and lifting the handbrake in desperation.

The car rolled faster. She yanked the wheel, pressed all the pedals, took it out of gear, put it back in – but still it gathered speed and slid uncontrollably. Her heart thumped crazily. Should she jump out and abandon it? No – she couldn’t afford to pay for the repairs if it crashed. Then again, she wasn’t in any position to prevent it crashing. She glanced back. Was Jake still watching? She couldn’t see – and, anyway, at that moment the car left the drive and plunged down the slope.

Evie gasped as it stopped. She blinked.

The car was wedged at an angle, but she was unhurt, thank goodness. She tried to reverse, but nothing happened. She tried to go forward – it was optimistic, but if she could just turn the car, perhaps it could climb the hill back to the drive. She wound the window down, looked out, then tried the accelerator again. The wheels spun and the car sank deeper into the snow. She closed her eyes in despair. She had to face it: she was well and truly stuck.

 

Click here to purchase The Christmas Holiday



London, three years ago

‘Is there anyone we can call for you?’

Natasha blinked. The nurse smiled kindly. Her eyes were the rich blue of hyacinths, filled with concern and pity.

‘Your husband maybe?’ The nurse looked at the ring on her left hand.

‘I left him a message. He’s abroad.’

‘A family member?’

She shook her head.

‘You’re going to need a D and C. Dilation and curettage. It’s a minor operation, but necessary. Do you understand, Natasha?’

She nodded. The baby was gone. Her heart folded up on itself and she squeezed her eyes shut against the pain.

Afterwards, she lay staring at the white ceiling. The fluorescent lights tinged everything violet. Losing the baby still felt too enormous, too violent to think about so she turned her mind to Luc instead. She had to make a plan. What would happen when he came? Would he come at all? His work was so important, after all, she thought bitterly. She knew she ranked very low in his life and he’d only married her for the baby. She held up her left hand. The platinum ring was a silver blur that swam and swayed. When he’d proposed she’d hoped it would be the start of something new, that he’d put his freedom-loving days behind him, and they’d work to become a family. She’d hoped they’d both share the same goal, and the baby would bring them together. She’d hoped so hard.

The nurse appeared. ‘Did you have a name for the baby?’ she asked gently.

Natasha nodded. She hadn’t discussed it with Luc – they were barely talking – but it was certain in her mind. ‘Hope. Her name was Hope.’

Now Hope had died there was nothing left, no reason for her to stay. The pain was crushing, intense.

The sound of quick, heavy footsteps in the corridor made them both look up. There were raised voices, then Luc appeared, breathless. She was surprised.

‘I got here as fast as I could,’ he said.

Her heartbeat picked up at the sight of him. His dark hair, his treacle eyes. She wondered if she’d ever stop loving him. He doesn’t love you, though.

He stayed with her as she drifted off, welcoming the anaesthetic of sleep. He was still there when she woke and the nurses told her she could be discharged. He took her back to his penthouse, and she didn’t have the energy to argue.

Back at his flat, he looked worried, couldn’t do enough for her. It was as if he was speaking to her through a funnel: his words were muffled and distant. ‘Are you hungry?’ he asked. ‘What can I get you?’

Too little, too late, she thought. He wasn’t the man he’d been the last few weeks. Since she’d told him about the baby, resentment had filled this big flat, pressing against the glass walls.

He left the room. She heard the front door shut, and a memory resurfaced of when she’d left her great-aunt’s house at sixteen. She’d made a promise to herself then that she’d never allow herself to be in that situation again: unwanted, resented. A plan was assembling in her mind.

It didn’t take long to pack her clothes, toothbrush, and the tiny framed photograph of her parents. She was waiting by the door, ready to leave, when he came back from the shops.

‘What are you doing?’ He stared at her.

He had a pint of milk in his hand. She looked at it. ‘I’m going home.’

She thanked her lucky stars that she’d kept the lease for her bedsit these last two months. Perhaps a part of her had always known it would end this way.

‘But you’ve only just come out of hospital.’

‘I’m going,’ she repeated firmly.

‘Why?’

Her head was fuzzy: the room tilted left, then right. She put out her hand and touched the wall to steady herself. He doesn’t love you, she reminded herself silently.

‘You’re not strong enough—’ he began.

‘Because it’s over. The pregnancy was a mistake. We only married because of the baby, and now …’ She couldn’t stay where she wasn’t wanted. Self-preservation kicked in and she lifted her head, looked him in the eye. ‘Now we can both get on with our lives.’

He didn’t argue. He didn’t say anything at all. His silence sliced through her, killing any doubts she’d still carried.

The intercom buzzed. Her taxi had arrived. She bent to pick up her case. Tears welled, salty and hot. She wished she wasn’t so weak. She wished she didn’t love him so much, so fiercely and completely.

‘I’ll take that,’ he said, nodding at her suitcase.

Their hands collided. He snatched the case away from her and she mumbled something about divorce papers, then left.

He didn’t try to stop her. Far from it. He saw her to the taxi, lifted her luggage into the boot, then stood back, hands in his pockets, his mouth a flat line, and watched as the taxi drove away.

He didn’t love her, he never had. And that was why she had to go.



Present day

When he came in, Natasha was slicing the thorns off a marshmallow-pink rose. The door chimed and she glanced up, ready to smile, then froze. The flower in her hand was forgotten and she stared. There, in her shop, was Luc.

Her heart thumped. The shop flooded with cold air, as i. . .