Читать книгу The Forgotten Village - Lorna Cook - Страница 8

Melissa opened her eyes slowly and looked up into a man’s face.

‘Are you all right?’

It was the historian. He was crouched over her; his face full of concern, laced with a hint of panic. He was very attractive up close, but then Melissa wondered why he was so close. And why was she on the ground?

‘Are you all right?’ he repeated. ‘I could see you falling from all the way back there.’ He pointed over her head towards the avenue. ‘I don’t remember the last time I had to run that fast.’

Melissa nodded. ‘I’m fine,’ she said out of good old-fashioned British politeness, although it was clear she wasn’t fine at all. Her head still hurt and her raging thirst hadn’t diminished. And she was still on the ground.

He narrowed his eyes. ‘Hmm. Stay still for a few minutes at least,’ he said. ‘You just passed out. There must be a first-aider here who can take a quick look at you.’

She sat up slowly, ignoring his protestations. ‘How long was I out?’

‘Not long. About thirty seconds or so.’

‘Oh.’ Melissa coughed dryly.

‘Here, have this.’ He offered her his chilled bottle of water and Melissa sipped, then offered it back. He shook his head. ‘It’s yours.’

She put it on the ground, where it rolled to one side and came to rest against a piece of fabric. ‘What’s that?’ she asked.

‘My sweater. I put it under your head when I laid you down.’

‘Did you catch me?’ She looked into his eyes. They were a startling shade of blue that the photograph on the leaflet hadn’t done justice.

He nodded. ‘When I caught sight of you wobbling, I ran so fast I almost careered into you.’

Melissa spied her sunglasses a few feet away. She felt lucky they hadn’t smashed. They must have fallen off her face as she passed out.

He looked in the direction of her gaze; stood and scooped them up, then handed them back before looking at his mobile phone.

‘There’s no signal out here. No phone mast for miles; the village never needed one. So I can’t summon any help. You’re stuck with me, I’m afraid, until you feel well enough to walk.’

‘I feel fine now,’ she said, only half-fibbing. ‘I think I was just a bit dehydrated.’

Melissa looked around, hoping the golf buggy might return for its celebrity passenger so she could hitch a lift, but she didn’t mention it.

He sat down next to her and eyed her carefully. ‘OK. Well, we’ll give it a while before we move. Just rest for a bit.’

Melissa nodded and reached for the water again before taking another sip. ‘That’s much better,’ she said, screwing the cap back on. She looked at the house properly and felt a strange kind of sadness.

‘Are you interested in this sort of history?’ Guy nodded towards the house.

‘Not usually,’ Melissa admitted and then felt a bit guilty admitting this in front of a historian. ‘I was curious about this though and I had the day to kill. I seem to have accidentally come on a surfing holiday, but I hate surfing, so I’ve been finding other things to do with my days. I’ve never even been to Dorset before. I had no idea about Tyneham.’

‘I’d imagine you wish you hadn’t come now,’ the historian said.

She turned to look at him. ‘Why do you say that?’

‘Well, you passed out for one. And you look pretty down. Although that’s possibly on account of the fainting.’

‘I don’t know how anyone could be anything other than sad here. It’s just so … abandoned,’ she said. ‘Although this house has fared better than the rest. It’s still got a roof for a start.’

‘It’s a beautiful building.’ He pointed at the top floor. ‘My gran used to work as a maid here, up until the requisition.’

Melissa made an appropriate noise and looked at the gabled servants’ quarters on the second floor. It was the only level that didn’t have any window boards. Every window on both the first and ground floor had metal sheets with Danger, Keep Out emblazoned across them. The studded dark wooden front door inside the arch was still in place and looked original. And uninviting. It all gave off a depressing and cold air, even in the heat of the summer sun. But Melissa was sure that in its prime this house would have been something else entirely.

‘I’m not sure Gran really enjoyed her time here,’ the historian said. ‘I must remember to ask her if she lived at the house’ – he lifted his gaze towards the second-floor windows – ‘or if she walked up from the village every day.’ He snapped back from his meanderings. ‘How are you feeling now?’ he asked.

‘Better, thanks.’ Melissa wondered if Liam would be back from surfing and worried as to where she was. No, of course he wouldn’t. But with no phone signal she couldn’t tell him she’d be late. In fact, she hadn’t even told him where she’d gone.

She stood up slowly and then reached down for his sweater. She handed it to him and he thanked her, putting it over his shoulders and tying the arms loosely round his neck.

‘I’ll walk you back,’ he offered.

Still feeling woozy, Melissa didn’t argue. ‘I’m so sorry, I’ve completely forgotten your name.’

He smiled and introduced himself, holding out his hand.

‘Thanks for taking care of me, Guy.’ Melissa shook his hand and then introduced herself before continuing to walk beside him.

‘Nice to meet you, Melissa.’ Guy laughed. ‘It’s been one of the more interesting ways I’ve made a new acquaintance.’

The church came into view. ‘I’m sure I’ll be fine from here.’ Melissa pointed towards the car park.

‘Oh.’ He sounded disappointed. ‘Are you not coming into the church? There are meant to be loads of great photos of the way it all was. And a talk, not given by me this time, you might be pleased to hear.’

Melissa laughed and looked towards the old stone church. ‘Maybe another day. I’d better be getting back.’

One of the guides appeared at the stone wall dividing the churchyard from the lane. ‘Excuse me, Mr Cameron. We’re starting the talk now if you would like to join us. We waited for you.’

‘I’m not speaking am I?’ he sounded concerned.

‘No, no. But we didn’t want you to miss it.’

‘That’s very kind of you. I’ll be right there.’

The guide walked back towards the church and Guy turned to look at Melissa.

‘Bye.’ She gave him a small wave as she moved towards the car park. ‘Enjoy the talk.’

He nodded. ‘Bye. Take care of yourself, Melissa.’

As she drove to Liam’s cottage, Melissa glanced at her watch. She’d been wandering around Tyneham for the best part of the day and she had only meant for it to be a flying visit. She was tired and hungry.

Melissa opened the front door expecting to hear something along the lines of ‘Where the hell have you been?’ But Liam was leaning on the arm of the sofa. A sports channel was on in the background broadcasting a surfing competition somewhere warm and sunny. He was playing with his phone and didn’t look up when she entered.

‘Hi,’ she said from the door.

‘Y’aright?’ he mumbled, his fingers tapping away on his mobile.

‘Yeah. Good day?’ Melissa asked, but Liam didn’t answer. The tapping on his phone continued.

She went towards the kitchen and downed two glasses of tap water. Finally feeling better, she glanced up at her boyfriend, who hadn’t even looked at her yet, and she wondered why she had bothered rushing back. She grabbed a yogurt and a spoon from the kitchen.

Were they in a rut? How had this happened so soon? Admittedly they’d not been going out that long, but at eight months, this was Melissa’s longest relationship yet. It was a fact she wasn’t exactly proud of given she was twenty-eight and felt she should probably have worked out how to hold down a relationship long before now. But at this relatively early stage, wasn’t it still supposed to be a bit more exciting? She had no idea what she was doing. She wondered if she was messing it up, playing it too cool, but she knew from watching the breakdown of her parents’ marriage that men didn’t like women who nagged. Her mum had found that out the hard way, leading to perpetual arguments. But maybe Melissa had gone too far in the other direction. When she and Liam had first got together, they’d been great – or so she’d thought. They’d met in one of those awful bars in Canary Wharf where bankers drink champagne costing £160 a bottle. She hadn’t been used to that kind of flamboyance on her admin assistant salary. She’d only been there to celebrate a friend’s birthday after work. Maybe she’d been out of her depth from the start.

She toyed with telling him she’d passed out today. But what would be the point; to make him look up, to force him into paying some attention to her? Melissa cringed thinking about it. There were other ways, surely, to try to save a relationship and the sympathy vote wasn’t it.

‘Shall we go out for dinner?’ she asked when she’d finished the yogurt. She was holding the fridge door open and enjoying its cool temperature.

‘What?’ He sounded harassed. ‘Oh, I’ve already eaten.’

Melissa was taken aback. ‘Really?’ She closed the fridge. ‘I thought we would eat together.’

‘We didn’t say we would, did we?’ The tapping had resumed.

Melissa’s eyes widened and she looked at the back of his head. ‘No,’ she said slowly. ‘I suppose not.’ She folded her arms, trying not to rise to the argument. ‘What did you have?’

‘Crab cakes, those sexy skinny chips, sticky toffee pudding. And a fabulous bottle of Sauvignon.’

‘Wow. Where’d you get all that?’

‘The Pheasant and Gun.’

‘Oh.’ Liam had eaten at the swanky gastro inn a few miles down the road that Melissa had been wanting to visit since they’d driven past it at the start of the holiday. ‘I thought we were going to go there together?’ she asked pointedly.

He finally put the phone down and turned to her. ‘I was hungry.’ He shrugged. ‘We can still go there another day. We’ve got plenty of time before real life beckons and we head back to London.’ He picked up his phone again, indicating the end of his participation in the conversation.

Melissa shook her head. Unbelievable. She was too livid to speak. When it was clear Liam wasn’t going to look back up and engage, Melissa stalked over to the table where she’d thrown her car keys, grabbed them and slammed the front door behind her. She needed some thinking time.

Her stomach rumbled. In a fit of annoyance, she decided that, for the first time in her life, she was going to have dinner in a swanky restaurant by herself.

On the drive over to the Pheasant and Gun, she tried to work Liam out. Who goes to a top gastro pub on their own, on a Saturday, when they are on holiday with their girlfriend? What on earth? It was like she wasn’t really there. Like she wasn’t actually on holiday with him. He didn’t seem to care what she did with her days or whether they actually spent any time together at all. This was turning out to be the worst holiday she’d ever been on, but, as she thought this, she remembered two weeks in Magaluf with her parents when she was eighteen. Perhaps this week in Dorset was coming in a very close second.

By the time she pulled into the car park of the Pheasant and Gun, Melissa was starting to question her impulsive move. She was nervous. Other than a quick sandwich in a café, Melissa had never eaten out by herself before. Catching sight of herself in the rear-view mirror, she pulled out her make-up and made her face presentable.

On the walk across the gravel car park, she hastily pulled the band out of her long brown hair and let it fall down around her shoulders, fluffing it up a little for good measure. She’d never walked in anywhere and asked for a table for one. Maybe she could eat inconspicuously at the bar. She wished she’d brought one of her glossy magazines so she had something to read.

As she pulled open the door of the inn and walked through, she regretted her decision to dine solo. The bar was heaving with drinkers and all the dining tables were full. What was she doing? She should have just gone to the fish and chip shop.

‘Can I help you?’ the lady behind the bookings desk asked.

‘Table for one?’ Melissa asked uncertainly.

‘Have you booked?’ The woman eyed Melissa’s outfit of jeans and T-shirt with a look of disdain.

Melissa’s face fell. ‘No, sorry.’ Oh, what was she doing here?

While the hostess spent a long time looking through the diary in front of her trying to find a vacant timeslot, Melissa looked around self-consciously, mentally preparing herself to leave. As she did so, she caught the eye of a man sitting at one of the window tables. She glanced back and did a double take when she realised it was the TV historian.

Guy waved hello and gave her a look that said ‘what are you doing here?’

‘We don’t have anything available until 9.30,’ the fierce woman behind the desk said.

Melissa looked at her watch. That was hours away. ‘Okay, don’t worry.’ She turned to leave, shrugged, mouthed a goodbye to Guy and gave him a small wave in return.

He shook his head and mouthed, ‘No, come here.’

She stopped, confused, and gave him an awkward look.

He stood up and said loudly, ‘Yes, come here.’ Melissa saw him visibly cringe when he realised he was drawing attention.

She approached his table, feeling equally awkward.

‘Hello,’ he said, still standing.

‘Hi,’ Melissa replied, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.

Guy looked behind her. ‘Are you on your own?’

‘Yes, but they’ve got no tables for ages, so I think I’m going to have to head to a takeaway.’

‘Well, I’ve got a spare seat here and I’ve not ordered yet,’ he said, glancing at the dark wooden chair opposite his.

‘Oh no, I couldn’t,’ she returned. That would be too weird. She tucked her hair behind her ear again, wondering why she’d taken it out in the first place. She hated her hair being down. It just got in the way and she longed to shove it back in a ponytail again.

‘Have dinner with me? What’s the absolute worst that can happen?’ he asked. ‘You get a decent meal while being bored rigid by history chit-chat?’

Melissa laughed but couldn’t think of a valid excuse. Plus she was really rather hungry now. ‘Okay. Thanks,’ she said on impulse.

They both sat down and a waitress appeared instantly. She fawned over Guy as she discussed their drinks options and thrusted Melissa a menu. The waitress looked at Guy almost the whole time, even when asking what Melissa wanted. Melissa ordered water and Guy ordered a glass of Sauvignon.

‘Are you having one?’ Guy asked.

‘Why not?’ she said, then added, ‘I’m driving, so just the one.’ Something struck her then. Liam had said he’d had a bottle of Sauvignon at dinner earlier. Who orders a whole bottle of wine to themselves? Why had it not occurred to her to ask Liam if he’d had dinner alone or if he’d been with someone? And had he driven the little car he always kept in Dorset or had someone else driven him home?

No. She was being silly. He hadn’t mentioned dining with anyone. And it was perfectly feasible to drink a whole bottle by yourself. She’d done it, more times than she cared to admit. But then drive home? No way.

‘I take it you’re feeling better now?’ Guy interrupted her thoughts.

She nodded. ‘Thank you for walking me back down the hill. How was the presentation?’

They were interrupted by the waitress again, who came back to give them their drinks and take their food order. With no time to look at the options, Melissa panic-ordered what Liam said he’d eaten. ‘Crab cakes and skinny chips please.’

‘That was quick,’ Guy mumbled. ‘You haven’t even looked at your menu.’ He quickly looked at his and ordered a steak.

When the waitress had gone, Guy continued, ‘The presentation was good actually. Fascinating. Even for someone like me, who thinks they’ve heard it all before.’

Melissa studied him while he spoke. His brown hair fell over his eyes and he pushed it back every few seconds. Melissa thought he was good-looking – in a posh boy kind of way.

‘I didn’t get to look at the schoolhouse though,’ he said. ‘I didn’t leave enough time. I think I might nip back tomorrow, just to satisfy idle curiosity. What did you think of the school? There’s meant to be some of the children’s work still on the walls, exercise books and coat pegs with their names on. It sounds rather moving.’

‘I didn’t see it either actually. I was rushing around quite quickly to get back for …’ Melissa trailed off. Why exactly had she been rushing around to get back for Liam? He hadn’t been bothered. It occurred to her now that he hadn’t even asked where she’d been all day.

Guy waited for her to finish her sentence and when she didn’t, he asked, ‘Come with me tomorrow if you like? The photos in the church are wonderful too. A real eye-opener. You should see them before you finish your holiday.’

What would she be doing tomorrow, waiting about for Liam to grace her with his presence after surfing? And she did want to take a better look around.

‘All right then, yes,’ Melissa said, ‘if you don’t mind me tagging along?’

He beamed. ‘It would be a pleasure.’

She looked at him and wondered how she’d got into this position. She was sat having dinner with a minor celebrity, albeit one she’d never heard of, who she’d only met a matter of hours ago and she was arranging to meet him again tomorrow.

Melissa felt a stab of guilt about Liam and then tried to quash it immediately. Liam was making her feel, well, a bit crap actually and Guy Cameron was making her feel very at ease. They were only going to look at some photos. It was hardly a date.

They ate their dinner and talked. Guy revealed he lived on the fringes of London where town just about met country and she confessed that she lived in a very unsexy part of town where London met Essex.

‘And what do you do, when you aren’t holidaying in Dorset?’ he asked while they waited for pudding.

‘I’m currently in between jobs,’ she said, trying not to sound too embarrassed. She didn’t really fancy telling him she’d jacked in her job in a fit of idealistic madness and was now temping.

‘Oh right?’ He was clearly waiting for more.

‘Just office work. Admin really. Nothing very exciting. How did you get into TV presenting?’ Melissa asked, attempting to move the conversation on quickly. She just couldn’t admit to this incredibly successful and rather good-looking man how much of a failure she was.

The waitress brought their pudding over. They’d decided to share one of the restaurant’s famous soufflés. Guy didn’t have a sweet tooth, but he was happy to make the meal last a bit longer. He was enjoying Melissa’s company. It was the first time he’d been out with a woman in a long time.

‘I don’t know, really. I suppose I sort of fell into it. Someone suggested I’d be good on a radio segment and it all spiralled from there.’

‘I’ve got to confess that I’ve never actually watched any of your programmes,’ Melissa said, pushing her spoon into the soft, pillowy pudding and obviously avoiding his eye contact.

He smiled. ‘Well, thank you for being honest.’ He was so used to people approaching him because he was in the public eye, believing they already knew him. It was refreshing talking to Melissa. She didn’t gush compliments at him.

‘And also, until I read your name on the leaflet this morning,’ Melissa continued, ‘I hadn’t actually heard of you either.’ He watched her spoon soufflé delicately into her mouth.

He laughed now. ‘Believe it or not, that’s music to my ears.’

‘Really?’ she asked. ‘I did wonder if it was exhausting being a celebrity?’ Guy grimaced at the word celebrity and Melissa continued. ‘Whether you had to watch your back all the time in case someone papped you; whether you could go on a real bender in the pub without someone telling the Daily Mail?’

‘Ah, no one cares about a Z-lister like me,’ he said. ‘I get photographed a lot by lovely middle-aged women who just want a nice picture to show their friends. And I’m far too clean-cut to have anything I do end up in the gossip rags,’ he said with a wink.

‘Shame.’ She gave him a sideways smile. They looked at each other for a few seconds before she turned to signal the waitress for the bill. ‘I should be getting back.’

‘I’ll get this,’ Guy said. ‘I insist.’

‘Are you sure?’

He nodded, pulling out his wallet.

Melissa put her purse away with a reluctant look. ‘All right,’ she said slowly. ‘But you have to let me buy you lunch tomorrow then. Even if it’s only a plastic sandwich from a service station after we’ve been to Tyneham.’

‘It’s a deal.’

Melissa stood to leave and he held out his hand to shake hers to seal the deal.

She shook it with a smile. ‘Erm, 11 a.m. okay for you? At the main entrance?’

‘See you then,’ he said.

She turned and gave him a little glance from the door. He waved goodbye and then sat down and cringed at himself when she was out of sight, pushing the rest of the pudding away. Who shakes hands after a nice dinner like that?

He glanced around him. A few people had recognised him and were smiling as he caught their eye. He nodded to politely acknowledge them. One lady was taking a sneaky picture of him on her phone. Oh well, not giving Melissa a friendly kiss on the cheek had perhaps done him a favour.

Melissa stood by the bookings desk for a few seconds, rifling in her bag for her car keys. The keeper of the bookings diary was off wielding her power over someone else and so Melissa did something she knew she was going to regret. She grabbed the diary and scanned through the list of names. She found what she was looking for in seconds and then put the book back before leaving the restaurant.

As she walked to her car, she felt cold and it wasn’t due to the temperature. Liam’s name was in the book, listed against an earlier booking. Table for two.