Chapter 35

Stella woke early, an agonising ache gnawing in her heart. Alex hadn't returned her call and there'd been no sign of him back at his apartment. She'd blown it. Blown her chance with the only man she'd ever had feelings for, the only man she'd ever had a connection with. What a fool she'd been. She pulled the duvet over her head and turned over. She wasn't ready to face the day, wasn't ready to face the loss of a potentially wonderful relationship.

Less than five minutes later, she threw the duvet back and pushed herself out of bed, a new-found resolve spurring her on. ‘Stella Hutton, you do not do sentimental feelings and you most certainly do not do relationships,' she said resolutely. ‘It's time to forget about Alex Bainbridge. You've tried to apologise and he clearly hasn't accepted your apology. He's ignoring you and there's nothing else you can do. It's time to move on, you don't need him in your life. You don't need any man in your life, you've managed perfectly well without one; they only bring trouble.' Adding as an afterthought, ‘And that includes Johan de flaming Groote!' With that, she strode into the kitchen and set about making herself a large mug of coffee, ignoring the pesky ache in her heart that clearly hadn't taken heed of her words.

Sipping her coffee, she headed over to her speakers, sat her phone in the dock and selected a playlist of happy songs and turned up the volume. That done, she padded over to the balcony door, peering out at the damp, grey day that held Micklewick Bay in its grip. Much as she hated to admit it, it appeared to reflect her mood, not that she was going to dwell on it. She half expected to see the dark car with blacked-out windows parked in its now familiar spot across the road. She was relieved when it wasn't. Its absence strengthened her resolution to head out for a run, despite the inclement weather, telling herself it would help exorcise the final vestiges of her feelings for Alex.

Stella returned from her run, out of breath and red faced. She was also soaked to the skin thanks to the permeating mizzle that had hung in the air, clinging to all it touched. But there was no doubting she felt better for it thanks to the endorphins currently pumping around her body. Pushing herself on had cleared her head as well as her lungs, and now she felt ready to tackle her prep for court tomorrow.

Peeling her wet running gear off, she stepped into a zinging hot shower, the jets of water pummelling her skin, the crisp scent of her shower gel filling the air. That done, she pulled on a pair of dusky pink yoga pants, teamed them with a matching slouchy sweatshirt, slipped her feet into a pair of fluffy socks and headed to her desk.

She was engrossed in her case, making notes, when the buzzer to her apartment sounded, making her start.

Peering at the intercom screen, her heart sank when she saw Johan de Groote looking back at her.

Myriad thoughts began darting around her mind. She hadn't expected to see him again and the last thing she wanted was to invite him up to her apartment, especially after what Pim had told her about him asking to stay with him and Bill. She most certainly didn't want to give him ideas about getting his feet under the table here. Should she answer? Or should she pretend she wasn't in? Reminding herself that he would more than likely have seen the light from her desk lamp, she thought it was probably best to reply. Plus, she'd never been one to shy away from anything and she wasn't about to start now, errant father or no errant father.

She buzzed him up, telling him which floor she was on, then quickly slid the papers relating to her brief into the drawer of her desk and flipped the lid on her laptop. The details of her case were of a sensitive and highly confidential nature and she couldn't afford to have anyone sniffing around them.

The knock on the door sent her pulse jumping. Opening it she was greeted by the man she still couldn't get used to thinking of as her father. Her eyes fell to the large holdall in his hand.

‘Stella.' He gave a lazy smile and stepped inside, towering over her. Dumping his bag, he headed down the hallway towards the living room in a self-assured manner. Irked, Stella closed the door and followed up behind.

She noted his blond hair was damp with beads of mizzle, as was his raincoat which he took off and threw over the back of the sofa, sending another dart of annoyance through her. She scooped it up and hung it on a peg in the hall.

Returning to the living room, she found him glancing around, his hands pushed into the pockets of his jeans, as if appraising the place. He wandered over to a carved dark stone bowl on the coffee table. Picking it up, he checked the stamp on the base, his eyebrows lifting. ‘Expensive.'

‘It was a gift.'

He nodded, pursing his lips together as he cast his eyes over the furnishings. ‘Nice place you've got here. You're clearly doing very well for yourself.' He had a lazy, almost soporific air about him; so at odds with her motivated demeanour.

She folded her arms. ‘I work hard. You reap what you sow. Someone once told me it's the same with kids.' She knew she shouldn't have said that, but she couldn't resist.

‘Ouch,' he said, giving a sardonic laugh that didn't reach his eyes.

‘To what do I owe this surprise visit?' she asked. ‘I get the feeling this isn't just a social call.' She wondered how he'd managed to track her down; she hadn't told him her address and she couldn't imagine anyone she knew sharing it with him.

‘How about we have a nice chat over a coffee from that fancy machine I can see over there?' He nodded in its direction. ‘I can tell you then.' He gave her a smile that could only be described as smarmy.

‘Okay.' Much as she would rather he hadn't turned up like this, a part of her couldn't help but be intrigued by what he had to say.

With the coffee made, she headed over to the sofa where Johan had made himself comfortable and had stretched out his long legs and rested his feet – which were encased in annoyingly muddy shoes – on the coffee table, scattering the books that were there, including the one from Florrie and Ed.

She set his mug down in front of him and took the seat furthest away but which afforded her a full view of his face. She was keen to read his expression, hoping to pick up on any telltale signs that would reveal what he was feeling and whether he was telling the truth. The fact that his pale blue eyes were so like Pim's – and her own – she found slightly disconcerting. The similarity was further emphasised by the thick, straight, blond eyebrows the three of them shared, though hers had been tamed by regular appointments at the beautician's.

‘So,' she said, taking a sip of her coffee, watching him all the while, ‘you were going to tell me why you're here.'

‘You don't beat about the bush, do you?' He gave another of his small laughs. There was something about their tone that were beginning to grate on her. ‘Straight in there, no niceties. Boom!' He jabbed his fingers as if to demonstrate. ‘Just like your mother.'

Stella bristled. ‘I'm proud to be like my mum, she's an amazing woman and someone I've looked up to all my life. She's the reason I'm "doing well" for myself.' She added emphasis to his words.

Johan nodded, the small smile hovering over his mouth venturing into the realms of a sneer. He reached for his coffee and slumped back into the sofa, one arm slung casually over the back, his body language in no way suggesting he was a stranger here. ‘Nice coffee,' he said. ‘Good and strong.'

‘Glad you like it.' Stella couldn't recall the last time she'd seen anyone so arrogantly comfortable in their own skin. She tried to quell her rising irritation. ‘You were about to tell me why you're here.' Her North Yorkshire accent stood in stark contrast to his lilting Dutch tones.

‘Well,' he said, drawing out the word as his gaze slowly swept around the room once more, ‘isn't a father allowed to pay his daughter a visit?'

Stella almost choked on her coffee. ‘Excuse me?'

‘My reason for coming here is that I think it would be a good idea if we got to know each other after all these years.' His eyes met hers; the look she saw in them could easily have been construed as challenging.

Was he kidding?She held his gaze, there was no way she was going to back down, give him the slightest impression he was in charge, had the upper hand. She knew his game; she'd seen way too many people like him in the witness box, expert manipulators. ‘That's interesting, because that's the very last impression you gave on Friday night in The Jolly Sailors when you blanked me,' she said, her voice firm.

A shadow of discomfort flittered across his face, but Johan was undeterred. ‘If I remember the situation correctly, it was you who ignored me. You turned away and headed back to your friends without even saying hello. But I'm prepared to be the bigger person, to let it go and move on for the sake of our relationship.' The calm tone he used and the way he'd raised his palms at her was seriously beginning to grate.

Stella set her jaw, shaking her head in disgust. It was a blatant lie. ‘As far as I can see, we have no relationship; by staying away for thirty-three years, you've made sure of that. And please refrain from coming into my home and telling barefaced lies, accusing me of something I did not do.'

‘I'm not lying.' He gave a shrug. ‘I'm simply saying that's how it seemed to me.'

There was clearly no getting through to this man.

‘Whatever,' she said, batting his comment away. ‘I'd like to know the real reason you're here. No more beating around the bush.'

He laughed again, shaking his head, tutting. ‘Stella, Stella, Stella, you really need to soften up a bit. You're all hard edges, sharp corners, primed for battle. I haven't come here to fight with you, I've come to talk, get to know you, let you get to know me.'

‘So you keep saying, but we don't seem to be getting anywhere.' She wished he'd hurry up and get to the real reason behind his visit. Pim's words started ringing in her ears, the request for a place to stay, asking for money. Surely he hadn't come here for that, had he? She'd only spoken to him once before; they were little more than strangers.

‘That's because these things can't happen in a hurry, they take time.' He brushed his damp hair off his forehead and smiled.

In that moment, she knew exactly where the conversation was going.

Uh-oh!‘In that case, we'd better get started then.' She kept her tone cool.

He gave another dry laugh, making himself more comfortable on the sofa. The man was so laid-back he was almost horizontal.

‘I don't suppose we could chat over a bite to eat? He flashed his languid smile at her. ‘I'm feeling quite hungry.'

Not speaking, she got to her feet, marched over to the kitchen, returning moments later with a plate of biscuits, placing it on the table in front of him.

‘Oh, okay,' he said with an unimpressed snort, reaching for one of the biscuits and examining it as if it were something inedible.

Stella looked on as he took a bite, before launching into giving her a potted history of his life.

As she listened, she found herself wondering yet again what her mother could possibly have seen in him. They were polar opposites; her mum was driven and hardworking, he gave the impression he was bone idle, a loafer who'd spent his life simply bumming around from place to place, sofa surfing, with no direction, no aspirations. To Stella, these were deeply unattractive traits.

‘So,' he said, swallowing the last of the biscuits and wiping crumbs from his hands, ‘I thought it would be good for both of us if I spent a bit of time here with you. That way we could start building a bond between us.' The way he spoke, she rather got the impression he was telling her that's what would happen, that there was no option for her to refuse. The disingenuous smile he gave confirmed her thoughts. ‘If you could point me in the direction of a bedroom where I can put my bag. You can make a start on lunch while I take a shower; that plate of biscuits wasn't enough to fill a man.' His mocking laugh made Stella grit her teeth.

‘There's no room for you here; that's not going to happen,' she said firmly. ‘I use the spare room as a mini gym. I keep my treadmill and spinner bike there.' Yet again, he hadn't asked a single question about her. The only thing that appeared to interest him about her was the amount of money she must be earning to afford an expensive apartment and a fancy car.

‘Oh, Stella, don't be like that. I'm here now, you've seen I've brought my bag with all my stuff, you might as well let me stay. What harm can it do? I've already told you I'm not a well man. I need somewhere warm and calm to stay where I can rebuild my strength.'

What harm can it do?She got the feeling if she let him stay even for one night, she'd struggle to get rid of him. Maggie's recent unwelcome houseguest sprang to mind. Maggie had thought she'd never leave. That most certainly wasn't going to happen here. And that was something else, she couldn't help but doubt what he'd told them about his illness, there was something in the way he couldn't make eye contact when he mentioned it. She'd noticed it when she'd first met him at The Cellar with Pim.

‘You're not staying here and that's final.' She got to her feet. ‘You'll have to stay with your friend, Guy, is it? If we're going to get to know one another, I'd prefer to do it slowly, rather than have you staying in my home.' She'd be interested to hear what had happened between them that meant Johan was suddenly looking for somewhere to stay.

Johan's gaze slid away from her as he mumbled something indiscernible. She'd clearly hit a nerve. ‘Guy isn't being a great friend to me at the moment. He's heading back home, says I can't stay at the cottage any longer. He can be a very selfish man. He has two homes, I have none. It wouldn't hurt to let me stay, it's not as if he lets it out, it's only him that uses it.'

And there it was, the reason Johan de Groote had landed on her doorstep. He needed somewhere to stay. The man really was something else.

‘If you're wanting to stay in Micklewick Bay there are plenty of bed and breakfast places. I know for a fact that there are several with vacancies.' Stella had been told this by her mum who'd heard it directly from some of the owners whose properties Spick ‘n' Sparkle cleaned for. They'd expressed their disappointment at the lack of last minute bookings considering it was a Bank Holiday weekend, blaming the bad weather.

‘Staying in a bed and breakfast is hardly the same as staying in a proper home.' Johan coughed, patting his chest. ‘I'm not in the best of health, the doctors say I should really have someone to look after me, but instead I just plough on alone, never complaining.' He looked at her, the self-pity in his eyes making her stomach turn over.

From what she'd witnessed, Johan de Groote was more than capable of looking after himself. ‘Most of the bed and breakfast places are nice and homely.'

He heaved a sigh, drumming his fingers impatiently on the back of the sofa. ‘Well, this really isn't what I'd expected. I thought you'd welcome me into your life with open arms; your long-lost father shows up, the man you've been desperate to see all your life.' He shot her a disapproving look, his arrogant smile finally slipping away.

Stella could hardly believe what she was hearing, her anger was inching up to boiling point. Telling herself to stay calm, she gritted her teeth and said, ‘I'm not sure how you ever arrived at such an assumption. But anyway, I think we've talked enough for one day.'

‘That causes me a bit of a problem.' Rubbing his hand over the light stubble of his chin, Johan paused, as if running something over in his mind. ‘If you're not going to let me stay here, I don't suppose you could help me out with some cash? Just a couple of thousand. Only, I haven't been able to afford my medication, and if I'm going to have to pay to stay somewhere else…' He gave in to an elaborate bout of coughing. ‘My heart isn't strong. I don't know how much longer I've got…' He stole a look at her from beneath his fringe that was now flopping over his eyes.

This performance was something else. It begged the question, if he had such a bad heart, why had he just stuffed his face with a load of chocolate biscuits?

The ringing of her mobile spliced through Stella's thoughts. Johan ceased his coughing and sat upright. Stella got to her feet.

‘You're going to answer it?' he asked in disbelief. ‘But we're talking.'

‘I'm going to see who it is.' She headed to her desk and picked up her phone, surprised to see her mum's name. She tapped her fingernail on the screen, answering it. ‘Hi, Mum, you okay?' She was glad to have her attention diverted away from Johan for a moment.

Stella turned to look at him. ‘Yes, he's here,' she said, her words eliciting a frown from him. She fell silent, her eyes never leaving him as she listened to what her mum had to say.

‘What did your mother want? Was she talking about me?' he asked when the call had ended.

Stella didn't answer. Instead, she strode out into the hall, returning with his coat, holding it out to him. ‘You can gather up your holdall as you leave.'