How to Find Love in a Book Shop(84)

She looked white, an awful grey-green white.

‘Bloody hell,’ she said. ‘My stupid leg. I thought I could do it, but I can’t. I haven’t got the strength.’

He looked at her. He could carry her back to the house, he thought, give her a piggyback or hold her in his arms, but it was half a mile from here and the ground would be slippery.

‘Tell you what,’ he said. ‘I’ll go and get the quad bike.’

‘That would be brilliant. You’re a star. I’m sorry to be a nuisance.’ She shivered. ‘I’ll wait here.’

‘No,’ he said. ‘Let me carry you to the folly. You’ll catch your death if you wait here. You’ll get soaked through. Here.’

He held out his arms to pick her up, sliding one arm under her shoulders and the other under her knees. He lifted her easily.

‘I must weigh a ton. All that chocolate you fed me.’

‘Don’t be silly.’

He pushed open the gate and strode along the path to the folly, pushing through the undergrowth. When he got to the folly, Alice gasped.

‘My goodness! Look at it!’

Dillon managed a smile. It had been his secret project. He hadn’t told anyone what he was doing. It was taking him a while, because he just did half an hour here and there when he had a moment. But gradually he was restoring it to its former glory. He’d cut away all the overgrown ivy and brambles, revealing the golden stone underneath. He’d pointed up the brickwork, sanded down the windows and the door and repainted them the same teal blue the estate used on all its wood. Inside he’d sanded the floorboards too.

‘It’s a surprise,’ he said. ‘For your mother.’

‘Oh Dillon,’ said Alice. ‘What a wonderful thing to do.’

He put her down on the old sofa. He’d been going to take it away, because it was old and damp and musty. He took his scarf off to wrap round her neck and keep her warm. She protested, but he insisted.

‘I don’t want you getting a chill. Just wait here. I won’t be a tick.’



Alice lay back on the sofa. She felt terrible. She’d been trying so hard not to let her leg get the better of her, but her bones were aching; her painkillers were wearing off, and she was freezing. Darling Dillon, she thought. He was so lovely. She couldn’t believe what he’d done to the folly. Her mum was going to be so touched.

She tried to get comfy on the sofa. She thought about what Dillon had told her and felt a squiggle of panic. She knew some of Hugh’s friends were a bit on the wild side, and probably indulged in a bit of party powder – she wasn’t totally na?ve. But Hugh had never hinted that he took part and she’d never seen any evidence. Not that she’d know what to look for, she thought. She was a bit green, she knew that.

But why was Hugh marrying her if that was his scene? He’d go for someone more flashy and glamorous, surely? He had plenty of friends who were, after all, but he’d chosen her. He loved her. She knew he did.

She shut her eyes and her mind wandered. Dear old Dillon: he was so anxious to look out for her. She remembered that moment in the hospital, when she’d thought Dillon was going to kiss her. She couldn’t pretend she hadn’t wanted him to, but it would have made things a bit tricky. She’d always had a bit of a thing for Dillon, but he’d never shown any interest until that afternoon. Though now she realised he hadn’t been interested at all, really. The painkillers must have made her imagination run away. Luckily Hugh had turned up just in time. She felt herself blush at the thought of what might have happened. What was she like? Having fantasies about lovely, kind Dill. He was obviously totally embarrassed about it all. It was why he’d been avoiding her. She was an absolute nit.

She laughed at herself, then put her hands behind her to try and shift round a bit. She felt the corner of a book that had fallen down behind the sofa cushion.

She tugged it and pulled it out. Anna Karenina. A big fat Penguin classic. She flipped it open. The pages were damp and yellowing.

There was an inscription on the flyleaf. Written in fountain pen.

You are braver and more beautiful than Anna, and I hope I am a better man than Vronsky.

That was it. No indication who it was from or to. No date. Alice turned the page and began to read.

All happy families are alike. Each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.

Well, thought Alice. At least my family is a happy one. She didn’t know where she’d be without them. And she began to read.



Dillon was reversing the quad bike out of the yard when Sarah came up to him, her Barbour coat flapping behind her. This was just what he didn’t want. But he couldn’t ignore her. She looked worried.

‘Have you seen Alice? She was helping with the garland and then went off somewhere but she hasn’t come back. She’s been ages and it’s raining.’

‘I found her up along.’ Dillon was deliberately vague. ‘I was just going to go and fetch her on the quad.’

‘Is she all right?’

‘Just a bit wet. And tired, I think.’

‘Have you left her in the rain?’

Dillon paused for a moment. ‘She’s in the folly. She’s in the dry.’

Sarah eyed the quad bike. ‘I’ll come with you.’

He could hardly protest. But he’d wanted to save the surprise, until the job was properly finished. She wasn’t going to see it at its best – there was still a bit to do. But he couldn’t keep it a secret forever.