Monday morning, Camilla was up bright and early following a rather restless night. When she had opened her eyes, she had a few seconds of blissful ignorance about the previous day’s events, then suddenly, it came rushing back and gate-crashed her peace of mind. There was no way she was going to be able to get any more sleep after that, so she decided to go for a walk before breakfast. She’d kept today meeting free, as she had some work to catch up with for her existing accountancy clients, so the day was hers to plot out as she wished, which was certainly an advantage of being self-employed.

She wrapped up in her North Face bomber jacket, scarf, hat and boots then pulled on her gloves and opened the door. The December morning was crisp and fresh and she savoured the air as she stepped into it. She never usually left the house before nine in the morning – as she tended to meet her clients late morning or for lunch – so going out at eight seemed quite adventurous, especially seeing as how it wasn’t yet fully light.

However, a brisk walk around the pretty village would be good for her. Just the thing to clear her head and help her to prepare her for speaking to her father later on. If he was even still in the village, that was.

She set off along her road, passing the pretty cottages with their smoking chimneys and frosty window panes, then took a right and headed past the village green and the small medieval church with its mossy dry stone wall. Light was creeping into the sky now and everything seemed grey in the silvery-amethyst light, reminding her of an old photo of the village that hung on the wall of The Red Fox. She walked briskly, her breath emerging like puffs of smoke and as she inhaled, her throat and lungs felt as if they were being cleansed.

She passed the village shop and post office then froze. There was someone heading towards her with what appeared to be a short lion on a lead.

A lion?

A bulldog more like.

She turned quickly, keen to get out of sight, but there was nowhere to hide, so she scanned the road in both directions. The only thing she could see was the small graveyard in front of the church, so she hopped over the wall and landed on the grass on the other side. She lay there for a minute, holding her breath, then realised that her bottom and thighs were cold and wet where the frost was melting underneath her. So she slowly raised herself onto her haunches then peered over the wall to check if the coast was clear. And let out a screech.

“Hello… Camilla? Are you all right?”

It was Tom Stone and he was standing on the other side of the wall frowning at her.

“Oh… yes… I’m… absolutely fine, thank you.” She stood up slowly then dusted her behind off.

“What were you doing? One minute you were walking towards us then suddenly, you turned and ran in the opposite direction and leapt over the wall into the graveyard. I didn’t know it was you, to be honest, what with the hat, scarf and padded jacket and wondered if it might be a criminal fleeing after committing a crime.”

“I was uh…” She lowered her eyes to find the bulldog, Hairy Pawter, gazing up at her, his big tongue lolling out of his mouth, casting steam out around his squishy face. “I was doing my new exercise routine. It’s a bit like circuits… you know, where you have to run backwards and forwards then jump over things.”

“I see.” His dark eyebrows disappeared beneath the rim of his grey wool hat and she noticed for the first time that he had a faint dimple in his chin. She had an urge to reach out and touch it. “Well just be careful because the ground can be quite slippery and you could hurt yourself jumping over walls like that. Even low ones.”

“Of course.” She pulled her scarf higher to cover her cheeks as heat rushed into them. What an idiot she was. Tom didn’t believe her and she knew he didn’t. He probably knew that she knew and…

“I’ve been hoping we’d bump into you anyway. Not like this, first thing in the morning when I haven’t even shaved or brushed my teeth.” He offered a small smile. “I always get HP out for a walk before breakfast, you see. He’s a bit of a lazy boy, so I promise him food if he walks first.”

Camilla nodded, finding herself unable to tear her eyes away from his. This morning, in the grey light, their brown seemed darker than it had when she’d last seen him and the shadow of stubble over his jaw was quite sexy. An image of it rasping against her cheek as he nibbled her earlobe sprang into her mind and she had to swallow a gasp.

“Anyway… as I said, I was hoping to bump into you but I’ve been so busy since I arrived in Heatherlea, that I haven’t really been out much. And you’re probably really busy with work too, aren’t you? What is it you do again?”

“I’m an accountant. I have my own business.”

“That’s right. Someone in the village told me something along those lines.”

Someone in the village had been talking about her with Tom?

“Look, uh… I wasn’t snooping. I remember now… I went into the café last week and the man who works there… Jordan, is it?” Camilla nodded. “He said something about you doing his mother’s books so I put two and two together.”

“Right.”

“But I haven’t seen you around at all. I suppose I could have come and knocked on your door but to be honest, I was embarrassed.”

“You were embarrassed?”

“After the Halloween Party. I am so sorry for HP’s behaviour.”

“Oh. Uh—”

“It was out of order but he was overexcited anyway, what with the move then all the guests and you just took the brunt of it.”

“You can say that again.”

“I really am so sorry. I’d like to make it up to you, if I could.”

“Make it up to me?”

“Yes. Would you let me?”

Camilla could hardly believe her ears. She’d been mortified after the dog had assaulted her and never thought for a moment that Tom would have been embarrassed by what had happened. In fact, she’d rather suspected that it would be one of those tales to regale his colleagues with at those fancy veterinary dinners that he probably attended. This one time I had a party and a guest dressed as a cat then got humped by my dog. Ha! Ha! Ha!

“Camilla?”

“Yes?”

“You just went all glassy eyed. Is it low blood sugar? Have you had breakfast yet?”

“I’m fine. I just drifted off. Had a bit of a difficult day yesterday.”

“Would you like to talk about it? I’m quite a good listener. To be honest, I have to be in my profession.”

“It’s nothing. Well, it’s not nothing but it’s kind of personal.”

“Okay. No problem. I didn’t mean to pry.” He chewed his bottom lip before meeting her eyes again. “But about making it up to you…”

“Yes?”

“Can I buy you a drink?”

“There’s no need. Honestly, it’s all in the past. I’d quite forgotten about it.”

“Well I’m glad to hear that but you’d be doing me a favour if you agreed. See, although I had that party, and some of the villagers came, I’d still like to meet more of the locals. Sitting in the pub alone is a bit… awkward.”

Camilla sighed. What would be the harm in it? He was nice enough and he was living in Heatherlea now, so she’d bump into him from time to time. Therefore, getting to know him a bit better wouldn’t be a bad thing.

“All right then. That would be lovely.”

“Say five-thirty pm? After I’ve closed up the surgery?”

She was meeting her father at four and that could be over quickly or take a while. Then what would she do? Go home alone and stare into a glass of wine? At least if she stayed in the pub to meet Tom, she’d have a distraction after she’d spoke to Laurence.

“See you later.”

She lifted her leg and cocked it over the wall then found herself standing next to Tom. Hairy Pawter immediately pulled on his lead to get closer to her, sniffing hard at her leg. She took a step backwards.

“He means well. He won’t hurt you.”

“After our last encounter, he makes me a bit nervous.”

“He won’t do it again, I promise.”

“I believe you.” She gritted her teeth. “Hello HP.”

The dog’s small stumpy tail wiggled and he huffed at her, seeming to smile.

“He really likes you.”

Camilla smiled. She smoothed the dog’s head and he craned his neck to sniff her gloved hand. He was kind of cute.

“See you later then.” Camilla turned and started to walk away.

“Camilla?”

“Yes?” She turned on her heel.

“Not that I was looking… more that I couldn’t help noticing… you’ve got a big slug on your bottom.”

“Oh!” She looked over her shoulder and sure enough, there was a large sticky slug clinging to her jeans. She pulled it off then threw it back into the graveyard where it landed on the grass. “Bye.”

“Bye.”

She made her way home, conscious of how her wet jeans were clinging to her bum and thighs and that there might well be a slug slime over them too. But she didn’t really mind, because she was meeting Tom later for a drink. And he’d seemed really nice in a shy, intelligent kind of way. He wasn’t like the men she usually dallied with – they were loud, confident and even brash – but Tom was quiet and even sweet. It was refreshing.

When she reached her front door and let herself in, she realised that she was glad she’d bumped into him, because now she had something to look forward to. Something to take her mind off what she had to do first. Because she knew that speaking frankly to her father after twenty-five years of estrangement was not going to be easy at all. In fact, it was going to be very difficult indeed.