Chapter 3

THREE

By the time they arrived at the gate of Samphire Cottage, Florrie's hands and feet were numb with cold. She pushed open the front door, welcoming the warmth from the central heating as it wrapped itself around her. She kicked off her boots and unwound her scarf, the contrasting temperatures making her glasses steam up almost instantly, while her cold fingers started to tingle as she struggled to undo the toggles of her duffle coat.

Once Ed had freed Gerty from her lead, the Labrador trotted down the hallway to the kitchen on her usual quest for food.

‘S'good to be home,' he said, hanging up his coat on the run of hooks by the door. ‘I'll get the fire on in the living room straight away, then it'll be ready for when we get settled down.'

‘And I'll stick the kettle on, just as soon as my glasses have cleared,' Florrie said with a laugh, as she attempted to peer through the misty lenses, molelike.

‘Mmm. Sounds like a plan.' Ed smiled down at her, planting a kiss on the end of her nose. ‘Ooh, that's seriously chilly.'

‘You should feel my feet.' She wrapped her arms around his middle, snuggling close and savouring the warmth that emanated from him, the mist gradually clearing from her glasses. ‘Let me steal some of your toastiness!'

‘You're not expecting me to kiss those, are you?' he asked, feigning a look of alarm.

‘What?' She tipped her head back, looking up at him quizzically.

‘Your feet.'

‘My feet?'

‘Yep.' He nodded.

‘Don't be so daft.' She giggled.

‘Phew!' He grinned, delivering a kiss to her lips.

‘Hey, you, they're not that bad!'

‘I'll take your word for it.'

It was well after eight o'clock by the time they'd eaten their evening meal – a hearty home-made chicken stew they mopped up with thick wedges of crusty bread from the local deli – and washed up and tidied away. Tiredness crept up on Florrie, and at Ed's suggestion she went and changed into her fleecy pyjamas while he made a couple of gingerbread hot chocolates. ‘Be generous with the marshmallows and grating of chocolate,' she said as she disappeared upstairs.

‘Yes, your ladyship,' Ed said, chuckling.

Armed with their mugs, the aroma of gingerbread rising into the air, the couple padded their way along the hallway, with Gerty ambling behind them. Stepping into the small, neat living room, a feeling of relaxation spread through Florrie. A fire danced merrily in the grate while classical festive music murmured gently in the background. The heavy vintage curtains were drawn against the chilly night and a selection of carefully placed table lamps cast a soothing glow around the room, adding to the already cosy atmosphere created by the dusky-pink colour of the walls. Gerty stretched out in her usual place on the rug in front of the fire, ready to toast herself.

Florrie curled up on the sofa beside Ed, cradling her mug in her hands. She gave in to a wide yawn. ‘Ooh, s'cuse me.' It was going to be a battle to keep her eyes open at this rate. Ed stretched his legs out in front of him, rubbing Gerty's tummy with his socked feet. The Labrador groaned happily, making them chuckle. It was a scene of utter contentment, such that you could almost hear the walls breathe out a blissful sigh.

Allowing the soft music to wash over her, Florrie rested her head on Ed's shoulder, as the reassuringly familiar scent of him floated under her nostrils: soap, mossy cologne and a hint of his "artisty" smell, as she often described it. He responded by wrapping his arm around her. She savoured moments like this, the two of them – and Gerty – unwinding together in their cosy home after a busy day at work.

Being with Ed had made Florrie happier than she'd ever dared dream possible – once she'd admitted to herself that she had feelings for him and allowed herself to open her heart, that is. He filled a void in her life she hadn't known existed until she found herself unexpectedly falling in love. But even she would be the first to admit they'd got off to a rocky start, particularly last year when he'd walked out of her life without so much as a backwards glance – or so she'd thought at the time. Much as she'd fought it, tried to tell herself she didn't care, that she didn't need him, the reality was that she'd been unable to imagine ever feeling whole again.

The anger she'd felt when he returned had quickly turned to relief once he'd explained that he'd needed some time away to clear his head and unravel his thoughts without the influence of his parents putting pressure on him to hand over the bookshop. And she'd been beyond thrilled when he'd told her there was no place he'd rather be than here in Micklewick Bay, with her. Since Ed had moved in with her at Samphire Cottage, they'd settled into a happy rhythm, her uncertainty a distant memory. Or so she'd thought, until he'd started disappearing into the attic, giving her the impression he was keeping a secret.

It had crossed Florrie's mind many times how different Ed was from his parents, for which she was thankful; there was no way she'd still be a joint owner of the bookshop if he'd been remotely like them. Her own relationship with her parents had always been tight, especially so since her mum was diagnosed with Stage 1B Hodgkins Lymphoma while Florrie was away at university. Though Paula had made a full recovery, Florrie lived in fear of the cruel disease returning. She hadn't realised it at the time, but it had caused her to focus all her emotional energy on her parents and very probably, to a lesser degree, Mr and Mrs H.

Even her year-long relationship with Graham – or "Mr Beige" as her friends had dubbed him – had fizzled out long before he'd cheated on her with a work colleague. She hadn't been as gutted as she'd expected when he'd told her they were finished. It didn't help that his kisses had felt like perfunctory displays of affection, clinical almost, whereas Ed's… Phew! Ed's kisses had the power to turn her insides into a molten mess. The first time his lips had touched hers, it had just about blown her socks off, despite the fact she'd only recently broken up with Graham and had decided to avoid relationships for the foreseeable future. And she loved that his kisses still had the power to make her feel that way.

Her mum's illness had also meant that Florrie, who was by nature a homebird anyway, hadn't wanted to stray too far from her hometown and her parents. She'd been more than happy to settle in Micklewick Bay – a place she loved – working in her beloved bookshop, with her posse of best friends close to hand.

It was these family-orientated traits that had, in part, drawn Ed to her, as well as her calm and gentle nature. Florrie offered the stability he'd always craved – albeit unknowingly. He told her often how she'd instilled a contentedness in him he hadn't imagined possible, and it warmed her heart.

Florrie's gaze was drawn to the fireplace, Gerty snoring gently beside it, as mesmerising flames reached up the chimney. She could feel the ache in her shoulders from today's earlier exertions at the bookshop gradually slipping away as slumber started to wrap itself around her.

Seconds later, her heart swooped and her eyes opened as thoughts of Ed's trips to the attic barged their way into her consciousness, throwing cold water over her comfortable drowsiness.

Florrie wasn't certain how to broach it, reluctant to take the edge off their lovely day and spoil the chilled tone of the evening. Things had been so crazy busy recently, making the time they had together, relaxing like this, all the more precious. But she couldn't shake the feeling Ed was keeping something back – it wouldn't be the first time – which worried her more than she cared to admit. But experience told her it was best not to push it; he'd talk about it when he was ready. It wasn't going to be easy; he was master of keeping things to himself. And, worse, of burying his head in the sand.

Florrie subconsciously drew in a deep breath, releasing it in a weary sigh.

‘You okay?' Ed asked, dropping a kiss on the top of her head and giving her arm a squeeze.

‘Mm-hm,' she said, hoping he wouldn't guess her thoughts. ‘Just feeling cosy, that's all.' That's all, my foot!

But determined as she was to keep her anxiety at bay, she felt the floodgates of her mind open and a tidal wave of worries whoosh in.