This Could Change Everything(52)

There was a small crowd ahead of them, a mixed group of people yelling and laughing as they spilled out of a pub onto the pavement. One swung around a lamp post; another leapt up, trying to grab his hat back from his friend. A girl was trying to juggle with plastic cups, letting out a wail of frustration as they fell to the ground then almost toppling over as she attempted to scoop them up. The next moment her face was caught in the headlights of a passing van and Conor recognised her.

A moment later the van drove past Belinda and himself and his own face was similarly revealed.

‘I don’t believe it,’ shouted Scarlett, pointing at him. ‘That’s my husband over there! Conor, what’s going on? Who’s that with you, and why aren’t you at home looking after our kids?’

‘She thinks she’s being funny,’ Conor murmured as Scarlett cracked up laughing and everyone turned to look at them.

‘Is that . . . Does she have purple hair?’

‘Yes.’

‘Is she drunk?’

‘I have no idea.’

Belinda sounded alarmed. ‘Is she an ex-girlfriend of yours?’

Scarlett, still grinning, gave them a farewell wave before disappearing along with the rest of her rowdy friends around the corner. Conor exhaled with relief. ‘Absolutely not.’

They walked back to his car. As they reached it, Belinda squeezed his hand. ‘It’s been such a lovely evening. I know it sounds mad, but I keep wishing I could tell Jess about all this. I want her to know that you saw me in the street and thought I was her. I think she’d be glad it happened. Because now we’ve got to know each other and it kind of feels like fate, doesn’t it?’

She was right. Conor nodded. ‘It does.’

‘Almost as if she made it happen.’ Belinda smiled up at him. ‘Honestly, she’d be so thrilled we met.’





Chapter 24


The entrance doors were unlocked when Essie arrived at the Red House the next morning, but the bar area was deserted. The fresh smell of furniture polish hung in the air, indicating that Maeve the cleaner had finished and left, and the faint sound of clanking metal barrels being moved around let her know that Lucas was busy in the cellar.

Although he was also here on the wall, in his white open-necked shirt and black trousers, gazing down at her. Giving her that look and that mesmerising half-smile.

Who could have imagined that an inanimate photograph could prove to be so compelling and such a distraction? OK, everyone looked at it and commented on how striking it was, but she was finding it almost impossible to stop glancing over at it whilst she was working.

Which was frankly embarrassing. Essie knew she needed to stop doing it before other people started to notice.

There, see? I’m doing it again now.

She took a steadying breath; the answer, clearly, was to get it out of her system. Like when you fell in love with the brilliant new single by your favourite band and kept playing it over and over again because you couldn’t bear to stop. But over time the level of entrancement died down and your brain grew tired of the track, until it no longer took over your life and eventually you just didn’t want to hear it any more.

Overexposure, that was definitely what she needed. And by great good luck, there was no one else around. Moving closer to the framed portrait on the wall, Essie reached for her phone and held it up. She took a couple of photos with the flash off, then another two with it on. Whenever she had a spare minute she was going to stare and keep on staring at the portrait of Lucas until the urge to look at it was completely out of her system. OK, one last close-up of his face, that beautiful face with those incredible cheekbones and—

‘Ooh, flash flash flash, it’s like having the paparazzi in here! Hello, my love, what’re you up to? Taking pictures of the boss? He looks like one of those Hollywood actors in that photo, doesn’t he!’

Maeve had popped her head up over the back of the crimson velvet sofa and Essie had never been more mortified. She clapped the phone to her chest. ‘God, you gave a fright. I thought you’d finished and gone home.’

‘No, love. Just been dusting these skirting boards and getting a mark off the floor down here! Stubborn little bugger, red wine I reckon.’ Maeve merrily waved her can of stain remover and microfibre cleaning cloth as proof. ‘You know I don’t like to leave a job until it’s properly finished! Why were you taking photos of that photograph, love?’

‘I . . . um . . .’ Oh God, why indeed? Essie’s mind had gone blank and she couldn’t for the life of her think of a plausible reason.

‘What phone is it you’re using? Let’s have a look.’ Having emerged from behind the sofa, Maeve came bustling over and peered at it. ‘Oh, that’s OK, I know how to work those. Would you like me to take one of you standing beside the photo?’

What? ‘No, no thanks, it’s fine!’

‘Come on, don’t be shy, it’ll be like a proper selfie except you won’t have to take it yourself!’ Reaching for Essie’s phone, Maeve made shooing movements with her free arm. ‘Get yourself over there against that wall, there’s a good girl, and squeeze up right next to him—’

This was the moment, of course it was, that Lucas closed the cellar door behind him and said, ‘Am I allowed to ask what’s going on here?’