a different life, while he’d had the kind of reputation that raised a father’s hackles, a business that required every moment of his time just to keep it afloat and a bank calling in loans.
Back then their lives had been out of sync but now, magically, they had the chance to mesh if he didn’t mess up.
For the moment he had to be content to sow the seed, put the thought of a future together in her head, nurture it with a show-not-tell campaign. He had to prove that he was serious, that he was with her for the long haul. That their baby was going to have two parents.
As he’d strolled down to the village, the sea shimmering on his left, the scent of wild rosemary clearing his head as he brushed against it, he’d had plenty of time to imagine how it would be.
He was going to be there for the scans, the prenatal classes, the birth. Be there for everything that came after.
He wasn’t giving up on marriage, but he knew that was something he would have to earn and he was prepared to wait.
He paused outside a shop filled with exquisite baby clothes and soft toys. A small white teddy with a blue bow was practically begging him to come and buy it. He stepped away.
This had to be about Miranda, not the baby, and she wanted marmalade and benzina.
He bought groceries, stocked up on cleaning materials, filled the fuel can at the petrol station and was on his way back when he saw the name ‘Stark’ on a name plate by the gate of a large cottage. On an impulse he stopped, walked up the garden path and knocked.
Matt opened the door, raised an eyebrow ‘Has Andie thrown you out?’
‘Not yet.’ He was planning to stay as long as she’d put up with him. ‘She mentioned a couple who used to work at the villa. I wondered if they were still in the village.’
‘Elena and Alberto? They’re still here but they’re retired. I’m not sure they’re up to helping clean up the villa. One of their sons keeps the grass cut in the spring. Unless it’s watered it doesn’t grow much in the summer.’
‘It’s not that. I think Miranda would like to visit them. Although if you know of anyone interested in a cleaning job we could certainly do with some help.’
‘I’m sure they’d appreciate a visit. I’ll point you in the right direction.’ He stepped out of the cottage and walked towards the gate. ‘If you go up that lane over there,’ he said, indicating a turning a little way up the hill, ‘they live in the third house on the right.’
‘Thanks.’
‘No problem and I’ll ask around about help.’ Matt hesitated. ‘I usually bring my mother up to the villa in the afternoon to use the hot spring. I mentioned it to Andie and she was fine with it, but I don’t want to be...’ He stopped, frowned. ‘Is that smoke?’
Cleve turned, looked up the hill where a thin plume of black smoke was rising into a clear blue sky.
‘Miranda... She was in the garage...’
He dropped the bags and the can and began to run. He heard Matt shout something and then come after him on his scooter, pausing so that Cleve could scramble on the back before racing up the hill as the smoke began to billow out from somewhere behind the villa.
Cleve was off and through the gate before the bike was brought to a halt, then he was standing for a moment in confusion as he realised that the garage was not on fire. He spun around and saw Miranda, a dark smudge on her cheek and a small fire extinguisher in her hand, emerging from the villa.
‘What the hell did you think you were doing?’ he demanded, fear driving his anger.
‘I, um...’ She blinked, coughed. ‘I saw the smoke, grabbed the fire extinguisher and rushed in.’
‘Idiot,’ he said, grabbing her, holding onto her, only too aware of what might have happened. ‘The last thing you ever do is rush into a burning building.’
‘I know,’ she mumbled into his shoulder. ‘But it’s Posy’s house.’
‘It’ll be insured. You’d have done her a favour if you’d let it burn down.’
‘No!’ She shook her head. ‘This place is special. Magic...’
Matt came skidding into the courtyard. ‘We saw the smoke. Are you okay, Andie?’
Miranda pulled away from Cleve, gave Matt a smile. ‘I’m fine... I can’t say the same for the kitchen and the house will probably stink of smoke for days.’
‘What happened?’
‘Someone, not mentioning any names, put the kettle on the hotplate and forgot to turn it off.’
The kettle? He’d done this?
Bile rose in his throat and unable to look her in the face he turned away and crossed the courtyard to stare, unseeing, at the sun sparkling on sea as the familiar veil of guilt descended, turning everything dark.
Less than an hour ago he’d been full of how he’d protect her, protect their child, imagining himself at her side through pregnancy, sharing the parenting, hoping that one day she’d look up and realise that they were a family. Instead he’d nearly killed her and their baby.
‘Cleve?’ He felt her hand on his arm, heard the concern in her voice. ‘It was an accident. It could have happened to anyone.’
He shook his head, unable to look at her, to speak. It hadn’t happened to anyone. It had happened to her and he was responsible.
‘I saw you put the kettle on. We both forgot about it—’
‘It was my responsibility.’
‘You were a little distracted.’ She was by his side and lifted a hand to his face, forced him to look at her. ‘No harm, no foul.’ Her smile was tender, she was doing her best to reassure him but she had no idea.
‘Anything could have happened in that wreck of a house. The ceiling could have collapsed, you could have been trapped—’
They both turned at the sound of an approaching fire engine and Matt shrugged apologetically. ‘I shouted to Mum to call them.’
A second later the big gates burst open, four firefighters rushed in and for a moment there was total confusion until Matt—who seemed to be passably fluent in the local patois—managed to convince them that the emergency was over. That signora Marlowe had put out the fire.
They checked to make sure that it was properly extinguished, that everything was safe, then they all kissed Miranda extravagantly on both cheeks, declared her ‘bella e coraggiosa’ and then, with a little encouragement, finally departed, closing the big gates behind them.
‘I’ll, um, go and fetch your stuff,’ Matt said, wasting no time in following them.
‘Stuff?’ Miranda asked, when he’d gone.
‘I dropped the shopping at Matt’s. When we saw the smoke. The marmalade may not have survived,’ he said, remembering the crunch as the bag hit the path.
‘You were at Matt’s?’
‘I saw his name on the gate and I stopped to ask about Elena and Alberto. I thought you’d like to visit.’
A smile lit up her face. ‘I would. Thank you.’
There was a black smudge on her cheek and he took a step back before he lost all grip on reality, reached out to wipe it away, kiss her, hold her, keep her safe. He could keep no one safe...
‘I bought a load of cleaning stuff.’
Andie had seen the colour drain from Cleve’s face as he realised what he’d done, the lines bitten deep into his cheeks.
‘That’s handy,’ she said, hoping to tease him out of it. ‘The kitchen was a mess. Now it’s a disaster area.’
‘I’ll