LITMIR.BIZ

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he took the mug from her and gave her one of his rare but rather captivating smiles.

      They both stood and looked at Juliet’s freshly mown garden. ‘Actually, it’s me that needs to thank you. I’ve been meaning to do that for weeks.’

      He shrugged. ‘I was doing my garden anyway …’

      ‘I know. I could hear you while I was in the kitchen making fudge for the kids’ teacher presents. It just took me a while to work out the rumble of the mower had moved closer and was in my garden instead of yours.’

      His eyebrows lifted. ‘Fudge? That sounds very labour-intensive.’

      She sighed and shook her head. ‘I’ve always done something home-made. It started off when Violet was little and Greg was just starting the business. It was the cheap option back then, and somehow it’s just become a tradition.’

      His eyelids lowered a little, as if he was studying her. Juliet resisted the urge to fidget. It was always so difficult to tell what Will was thinking.

      ‘Traditions like that aren’t carved in stone, you know. You can change them any time you want. Wouldn’t it be quicker to just run down to the supermarket and pick up a bottle?’

      ‘I suppose so … but the teachers get so much wine and chocolate this time of year, I just wanted to give them something special.’ Her expression softened and her lips curved. ‘And I don’t want to be accused of contributing to the alcoholism of primary school teachers …’

      ‘But contributing to their obesity is okay?’

      ‘Shut up,’ she said, and laughed softly.

      He turned to study the garden as he drank his tea. She’d thought, when they first met, that maybe there was a little flicker of something between them. She’d quickly eradicated it, of course, since she’d still been married to Greg and Will had been tied up with a serious girlfriend. And then after Greg had left she just hadn’t been in any shape to think about men at all – unless abject hatred was involved. She looked across at him, frowning as he stared at a patch of clumpy grass near the greenhouse, and wondered if she was going to have to tell him not to get the strimmer out, but then he turned to her and spoke first.

      ‘If you don’t mind me saying, Juliet, you look like you’ve had one hell of a week.’

      ‘Thanks!’ she said in mock outrage. Will didn’t always say a lot, but when he did, he definitely didn’t mince his words. He wasn’t wrong, though. She sighed and held out her hand for his empty mug. ‘Come in for another one of those when you’re finished and I’ll tell you all about it. I even have fudge cooling in the pan …’

      Wills ears pricked up. She knew he had a fondness sweet things, and she could always make another batch for the kids’ teachers.

      ‘It’s a deal,’ he said, and smiled again, more gently this time, and something at the bottom of Juliet’s stomach quivered.

      She held her breath and nodded. And then she took the mugs into the kitchen and closed the door without looking back.

      She didn’t know if she liked that quiver.

      It wasn’t an altogether unpleasant sensation, but it wasn’t an altogether comfortable one, either.

      Twenty minutes later Will appeared in her kitchen and sat down on one of the mismatched chairs she’d paid an inordinate amount of money for in a second-hand furniture shop down the high street. The sextet of chairs now surrounding her heavy oak kitchen table said quirky, eclectic, free-spirited … Which was the look she’d been going for. Even if she did feel a bit of a fake when she sat in them sometimes.

      He looked all fresh and windblown and she felt her stomach do that weird thing again. She’d been with Greg so long that she’d all but forgotten what the first flush of attraction felt like. Was this it? Or was it just her IBS flaring up again? She really couldn’t say.

      ‘Please tell me there really is fudge,’ he said, looking at the tray still cooling on the kitchen counter.

      She picked it up and placed it into the centre of the kitchen table, but it went too quiet as he watched her cut it into neat squares and suddenly she felt very self-conscious under his gaze. ‘More tea?’ she asked a little too loudly, and prised a generous helping of clotted cream fudge onto a plate.

      Will shook his head. ‘I think I’ve already drunk a gallon this afternoon.’

      Juliet frowned as she divided one of the fudge squares in two and popped it on a plate for herself. ‘It’s a bit rich to eat on its own.’ She scanned the kitchen, looking for something else to offer him, and her gaze came to rest on a bottle sitting near the hob, one she’d opened for the casserole she’d made yesterday. She grabbed the red wine and plonked it down on the kitchen table with a thud.

      Will’s eyebrows raised.

      ‘You’re right,’ she said, sighing. ‘It has been one hell of a week.’

      She peeked out of the window. Although it was just after four, the sun was close to setting. It was practically evening. Not too early for a civilised glass of wine with a friend.

      He didn’t exactly smile, but his eyes warmed, so she fetched a couple of glasses from the cabinet and poured them both a modest amount. It didn’t take long to fill him in on the whole story of Aunt Sylvia’s great escape the day before. Somehow her glass emptied and she found herself reaching for the bottle and dishing out more wine – a more generous helping this time. It seemed a shame to leave a tiny bit in the bottom of the bottle.

      When she was halfway through it, she started to wonder about the wisdom of too much Merlot with only half a square of fudge to line one’s stomach, especially as Will had listened so sympathetically to her tale of woe that she just kept talking.

      ‘It seems so quiet at the weekends when the kids are at Greg’s,’ she said, her shoulders slumping a little. ‘I know I moan that they drive me insane when they’re here, but it’s even worse when they’re gone.’ She sighed. ‘Oh, well. I suppose at least I’ve got them all to myself for Christmas this year.’

      Will, who’d been not-so-surreptitiously reaching for another piece of fudge, looked at her. ‘I thought you said Greg and the new girlfriend were supposed to be coming here for a united family Christmas?’

      She shook her head. And then nodded. ‘Well, I offered, but apparently Anoushka made plans that were just too good to pass up. A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity that came through her job, Greg said.’ She hated the tinge of bitterness that had crept into her tone. ‘They’re going to Bali, or somewhere like that. Escaping the Christmas madness.’

      Will looked puzzled. ‘That doesn’t sound like the Greg I know.’

      Juliet shrugged. It didn’t sound like the Greg she knew either. He hadn’t been like that when they’d been married. She’d have loved it if he’d wanted to drop everything just to be with her, or if he’d whisked her off on an exotic holiday. But work and commitments had always come first with Greg. And she’d understood that. Supported it, even. But he’d changed the moment he’d met flipping Anoushka, and for some reason that really cheesed her off.

      She shook her head and took another large slug of wine. ‘She’s the love of his life, apparently. At least, that’s the only explanation he gave me when I called him on it.’

      Without warning her eyes filled with moisture. She quickly looked down at the table and worked her eyelashes hard, trying to get it to evaporate. After a few seconds a warm hand covered hers. She took in a shuddering breath then peered at Will through the long fringe that had fallen over her face when she’d bowed her head.

      His expression might have seemed neutral to a stranger, but Juliet glimpsed the understanding in his eyes. ‘I know it’s hard …’

      She nodded. After a few seconds she slid her hand from underneath his and curled

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