Chapter 17

Stella lay in her king-size bed, the thoughts that had been crashing around her mind for the last hour had been making sleep frustratingly elusive. At almost one a.m. a balmy warmth lingered in the air. She'd cracked open the balcony door a little, in the hope of tempting in even the smallest breath of the tiny breeze that whispered in from the sea. From what she could hear, the party on the beach was winding down, the music having long-since been silenced, the voices thinned out.

She peeled off her short, silk nightdress and switched her pillow for the one on the opposite side of the bed, savouring the crisp coolness of the twelve-hundred count Egyptian cotton. She puffed out a sigh. Stella would never have guessed her day would end the way it had. It was hard to believe that her morning in court and the following confrontation with Vaughan Elliott had been part of the same day that had finished off with Alex. She closed her eyes, savouring the feeling of his kisses all over again. Wow! She'd never experienced anything like them. Never felt her body react with such an intensity, every inch of her had tingled. No one had made her feel like that before. But then again, no one had ever made her heart lift in the way it did by simply looking at him, and that was before his lips had ever touched hers. It unnerved her slightly, but not for long. She found herself craving the feeling all over again.

Was this what her mum had meant when she'd said Rhys had made her feel different? she wondered. Because, if Stella was being truthful with herself, even though she'd only just met him, something about Alex Bainbridge felt very different indeed. It was as if they were meant to meet. It was as if she wasn't meant to fall for a man until their paths had crossed. Was he the reason she'd never had a long-term relationship? Had fate been waiting for the right moment to throw them together?

‘Ughh!' Stella punched her pillow and turned over roughly. ‘You're beginning to sound like Lark!' All the same, Alex had said something pretty similar, she reasoned with herself. And he didn't strike her as someone who would believe in airy-fairy stuff like that. Not that she was saying Lark was "airy-fairy", but… Well, maybe she was… A little bit… Not that Lark would mind one jot. She was happy being that way. But these feelings for Alex Bainbridge had to be explained somehow. They couldn't just "happen"! She had to be experiencing them for a reason.

How about love at first sight?said a tentative little voice.

‘Go away! Stella pulled the duvet over her head. She wondered if she'd wake up in the morning and discover it had all been a bizarre dream. After all, she didn't believe in love, never mind at first sight! What utter rubbish!

She closed her eyes, her mind leading the way to Alex and his rather fine kisses.

Adding one more thing to her to-do list, Stella scooped up her coffee cup and headed out to the balcony. She was fresh from the shower, dressed in a light, silk dressing gown, her hair wrapped in a towel as she gazed out towards the sea. Cradling her cup in her hands, she stole a sideways glance in the direction of Alex's balcony to see that, though his door was open, there was no sign of him. She felt a pang of disappointment, but it was soon nudged out of the way by the memory of how his kisses had made her feel the previous night. As usual, her heart flipped the way it did whenever she thought of him, though she did her best to ignore it. It didn't stop her from hoping it wouldn't be long before they got a chance to pick up where they'd left off.

At not quite seven thirty, an early-morning haze still hung over the horizon as the sun gained strength before burning its way through – if the forecasters were to be believed, it was going to be another hot day with temperatures soaring to record-breaking levels; the warmth already circulating certainly hinted at it. Despite the early hour, there were already people on the beach, including the usual keen surfers, and a clutch of ladies who went sea swimming several times a week. Though she was a keen swimmer, taking an early-morning dip had never appealed to Stella. The North Sea was bitingly cold even during a heatwave – as her paddle previously had reminded her. These days, with her lifeguarding well behind her, she much preferred a pool, particularly if it was under a Mediterranean sun. Her mum, also a keen swimmer, had mentioned she'd been invited to join a sea swimming group – The Goosebump Gals, she'd said they'd called themselves, the mere name made Stella shiver. As she sipped her coffee, she wondered if her mum was amongst the gaggle of ladies on the beach. She certainly seemed keen to try new things recently. Relationships, foreign holidays without her group of friends. Sea swimming. Whatever next? Stella wondered.

With an hour-and-a-half's form-filling under her belt – an increasing bugbear of the bar owing to how much it ate into brief prep time – Stella headed out of her apartment building, the heat hitting her like a brick wall. ‘Phewph!' She slid her sunglasses on, glad that she'd opted for a cool, knee-length linen dress, the aquamarine shade complementing her colouring.

Arriving in the town centre, she felt just about ready to melt and was glad of the air-conditioning when she reached Oscar's Bistro. She grabbed a refreshing drink while she waited for the preparation of a gift voucher; her contribution to the auction at The Cellar. The place was busy with customers enjoying the bistro's hearty breakfasts, an easy-listening playlist murmuring away in the background.

As Lark's shop was just around the corner, Stella decided she'd head there next. ‘Thanks, Theo,' she said, downing the last of her drink, the ice cubes rattling, before heading out of the door.

The window display of Lark's Vintage Bazaar was as deliciously quirky as Stella expected it to be. There were a couple of mannequins dressed in an array of bohemian summer clothing, set to a backdrop of a tropical-looking beach, and decorated with an eclectic range of props, including several colourful faux parrots. You couldn't help but smile; it had Lark's handiwork written all over it.

Pushing the door open, Stella was met with the sound of magical chimes and a powerful waft of essential oils. Her eyes were treated to a host of clothing displays in bright, jewel colours. Lark had always been artistic, and here, in her domain, it showed.

‘Stells, flower! It's fab to see you.' Stella turned to see Lark heading towards her, a wide smile on her face. She was achingly pretty. Her small, heart-shaped face made her look a good decade younger than her thirty-three years. Her long, blonde hair hung in loose waves, but for the fine plaits that were threaded through it. She was wearing a loose-fitting pair of cotton dungarees in shades of mermaid-green and had a pair of silk jewelled slippers on her feet. Her armful of bracelets jangled as she pulled Stella into a hug.

‘Hiya, Lark. I'm afraid I might be a bit sweaty, it's absolutely scorching out there.'

‘Hey, no worries, flower.' She stood back, her hands resting on Stella's shoulders. ‘Hmm. Interesting.' She gave a mysterious smile.

Stella knew instantly what Lark was referring to. You don't hang around, do you? ‘What's interesting?' she asked, knowing full-well what it was.

Lark's smile deepened, lighting up her pale-green eyes. ‘I've never seen your aura like this before, young lady. It's positively radiant. And as for that sparkle in your eyes, I think we both know what I'm referring to.'

There was no point denying it. ‘Okay, I've been rumbled.' Stella laughed, holding her hands up in defeat. ‘It's Alex.'

‘Alex? The one who was with his girlfriend?'

Stella nodded. ‘The very one, only the girl we saw him with wasn't his girlfriend, she's his twin sister.'

‘Ah, I thought you couldn't be right about him being a rat.' She reached for Stella's hand and led her towards the room behind the counter. ‘Come on, let me make us a drink and you can tell me all about it.'

‘Hmm. Okay, but just water for me, thanks.' Lark favoured herbal teas which Stella thought tasted like the juice from a compost heap.

‘Come on then, missus, fire away.' Lark grinned at her from her squishy seat.

Once Stella had arranged the many vibrantly coloured cushions on her chair, she said, ‘Well, after last Friday at the Jolly…'

‘Wow!' Lark said, her eyes wide when Stella had finished telling her. ‘You actually live in the same building, on the same floor?'

‘I know, you couldn't make it up, could you?'

‘You do realise this is fate, don't you, Stells? I mean, I know you don't believe in things like that; a load of "old rot" is how I seem to recall you've described it on several occasions.'

‘Was I really that harsh?' Stella asked with a giggle.

‘You were.'

‘Sorry.' Stella pulled an apologetic face.

‘No worries. Anyway, surely you have to believe there's something in it after all that? There's really no disputing it. The planets have finally aligned for you – and for your mum by the sound of things – which is just amazing.' Lark's face was wreathed in smiles.

‘I suppose it is pretty compelling.'

‘It's wonderful, Stells! I always had a sense you'd fall in love and have a happy-ever-after.' She clapped her hands together excitedly.

‘Now let's not get carried away, Lark. I've only known him five minutes.' Stella shook her head, amused.

‘Ah, but what a five minutes they've been! You've never felt this way before; you've always mocked love and romance, but now look at you, you're positively glowing with it.'

Stella couldn't help but smile as her heart swelled with happiness. She knew there'd be no point trying to fool Lark with all her extra-sense malarkey, but it was time to move the conversation in a different direction; she was still struggling to get her head around her feelings for Alex. ‘Anyway, my reason for popping in, other than to say hello, is to ask if you've still got that black and white print of Thorncliffe?' She asked, when Lark had eventually stopped enthusing about her Alex news.

‘Ah, sorry, Stells. If you mean the vintage photo, I'm afraid it's gone. Old photos are always very popular when they come in,' she said regretfully.

‘Drat. I wish I'd snapped it up when I first spotted it. If I hadn't been so distracted, I would've done.' Stella had been heading down Station Square, waiting for the car in front to slip into a parking space, when she'd glanced across at Lark's window display, and the photograph instantly caught her eye, the dark tones emphasising the cliff's power, white, foaming waves crashing at its base, a sky full of brooding clouds above, the odd shaft of sunshine reaching down. She thought it would look perfect in her apartment, hanging above the fire and had meant to text Lark, asking her to put it to one side for her. Unfortunately, she'd been bombarded with work-related phone calls and emails when she'd returned home and it had slipped her mind.

‘If any more come in, I'll check with you before putting it out in the shop.'

‘Thanks, Lark.'

‘Actually, with all the excitement about you and Alex, I've only just realised you're here and not at work.' She giggled. ‘How come? I thought you were in the middle of that dreadful trial with that dreadful man opposite that dreadful barrister.'

‘That's a lot of "dreadfuls" coming from you, Lark, flower.' Stella chuckled. As a rule, you never heard Lark say anything negative about anyone. ‘To cut a long story short, the trial had to be adjourned so I decided to take the rest of the week off. Thought I could do a bit of catch-up with all the forms we get, and also tackle the rest of the boxes in readiness for you all coming round on Saturday.'

‘Fab, and how's it going?'

‘Not as well as I'd hoped, I should probably be heading off. I still need to drop my auction contribution off with Bill and Pim.'

‘Hey, Stella, it's good to see you.' Pim beamed at her, his blue eyes crinkling warmly as she made her way over to the bar of The Cellar. Tall, broad-shouldered and blond, he fitted the Dutch stereotype perfectly. He and his husband Bill had opened the microbrewery with attached bar just a few years ago and it had instantly become a roaring success, with its taste-bud-tempting beers and "contemporary-saloon" décor. The lite-bites they'd added recently had added to its popularity.

‘So, what can I do for you?' he asked in his lilting Netherlands accent, ceasing his polishing of the beer pumps.

‘Hi, Pim. I've just come to drop this off for tomorrow night's auction.' She handed him the envelope containing the voucher. ‘Should cover a three-course meal for two with a bottle of wine.'

‘Thanks, that's really generous of you.'

‘Hey, it's for a good cause.'

‘Hi, Stella.' Bill slipped behind the bar, his neatly trimmed beard and close-cropped hair standing in contrast to Pim's clean-shaven appearance and casually floppy, jaw-length bob. ‘Looking forward to tomorrow night?'

‘Very much so. I've just dropped off my contribution, apologies if it's a bit late.'

‘The timing's perfect. Pim and I are going to go through all the gifts and promises later this afternoon. Oh, and did he tell you we've reserved your usual table?'

‘Not yet, I haven't had a chance.' Pim rolled his eyes good-naturedly. ‘By the way, Stella, we've reserved your usual table,' he said with a chuckle, making Bill return his eye roll.

‘Why, thank you, Pim.' She giggled.

Pim resumed his polishing. He had his shirtsleeves rolled up revealing a smattering of tattoos. One in particular caught her eye, triggering the faint flutter of a memory.

‘Pim, I don't mean to be nosy, but can I ask, does that tattoo have a meaning?'

‘What? This?' he asked pointing to what appeared to be a shield of some sort, a set of initials above.

She nodded. ‘Yeah.'

‘It's my family crest, and these are my initials,' he said, pointing to them. ‘My full name's Pim Johan de Groote.'

‘Oh, right,' she said, suddenly distracted.

‘Wanna know something funny?'

‘Okay.' She pushed her mouth into a smile, putting her thoughts to one side.

‘The name de Groote actually means the tall one or the big one.' He grinned broadly, revealing even, white teeth.

‘Well, it definitely suits you, Pim.' She laughed, thinking he must be at least six-feet-four and positively towered over his husband who was lucky if he scraped five-feet-seven.

‘Doesn't it just?' Bill chuckled. ‘In fact, you're tall, you could be a de Groote too, Stella. I, however, certainly couldn't.'

‘Ah, but you're perfect the way you are,' said Pim, flashing him a cheesy smile, earning him a quick backhander from Bill.

All the way back home, Stella hadn't been able to stop thinking about where she'd seen the family crest that also adorned Pim's arm, but no matter how hard she racked her brains, nothing would come to her. It was frustrating; she usually prided herself on being able to remember such things.

Inside the entrance area of her apartment building, she collected the post from her pigeonhole and headed upstairs, her heart lifting as she wondered if she'd bump into Alex.

She was to be disappointed, the only sound was the lift rising to the floor above, making her wonder if any more of the apartments had been occupied and as to the identity of the lucky person who'd managed to snap-up the one occupying the top floor.

Inside her apartment, she slipped the post onto the kitchen worktop and headed over to the balcony windows, throwing them open. She took a moment to savour the view and, naturally, take a peek over at Alex's balcony which was empty, the doors now closed.

The thought that she needed to get in touch with her mum about organising a last-minute clean of her apartment on Friday in lieu of the get together popped into her mind. She flopped down onto one of the balcony chairs and fired off a quick text, ignoring the barrage of work-related messages that had been arriving steadily all morning. While she was texting her mum, she also mentioned that the back door to the building had been left open and that it had very probably been Andrea.

A matter of seconds after the text had sent, a reply landed.

Hi Stella, thanks for letting me know. Got you booked in for a clean on Friday morning. I'm out with Rhys have had notification of a delivery. Needs signing for and I wondered if you'd be able to pop to my house be there for me? Should be arriving between 1-3pm today. Thanks so much xxx

Stella checked the time on her phone. At twelve thirty, it didn't give her long, she'd have to drive there, she didn't want to risk it arriving at the earlier end of the estimate. She fired off a quick reply, confirming she'd be happy to, then grabbed her keys and dashed out of her apartment, a sudden thought swirling around her mind.