The Secret To Happiness. Jessica RedlandЧитать онлайн книгу.
on the carpet? She bent down and picked up what looked like a pale-pink rose petal. A few stairs further up, there was another one and, when she reached the first-floor landing, there was a trail of them, mixed with red ones, leading to the bathroom door.
‘Ryan…?’
No answer.
Karen tentatively pushed the bathroom door open and gasped. The blackout blind had been pulled down and there were lit tealights and church candles everywhere. The bath itself was full of bubbles and rose petals, and there was a glass of white wine perched on one corner with a square cream envelope propped up against it. Karen reached for the envelope and ripped it open. Within a circle of tiny red hearts were the words: I’ve been a complete and utter idiot! I really am very sorry. A cartoon bird holding an olive branch made her smile. She opened the card and read Ryan’s scrawling script: The card says it all. Please forgive me. Relax and enjoy the wine. Dinner is ready when you are. No coming down before your bath or you’ll spoil my surprise! Happy 13 years and 8 days’ anniversary. Looking forward to the next 13. And the 13 after that. And… well, I think you get the picture! I love you always. Ryan xxx
Karen sighed contentedly and shook her head. The soppy git. She wasn’t really into the whole romance thing. She didn’t need cards and flowers and couldn’t bear cuddly toys. For her, the important things in a relationship were the things you couldn’t touch: honesty, respect, trust, compromise and commitment. However, the card was sweet, and the bath was definitely a winner, especially as there’d been a chilly wind down on the seafront.
‘Thank you,’ she called, stripping off and sinking beneath the bubbles.
She wasn’t sure what to expect after her bath. Would they be eating then going out, or would they be staying in? She pulled on a loose blue summer dress and added a silver pendant, reasoning that she could easily bling it up with a pair of sparkly heels and grab a jacket if they were going into town.
More rose petals now littered the hall downstairs, leading her to the kitchen-diner at the back of the house.
Ryan, dressed in a tux with a frilly pink apron over it, stood by the kitchen table, which was covered in more rose petals. A bottle of champagne rested in an ice bucket.
‘You look gorgeous,’ he said.
‘You’re looking pretty hot yourself. I’m liking the tux. Not quite so sure about the apron.’ She wandered over to him. ‘Very James Bond, and you know I have a thing for Daniel Craig.’
‘I know. So does that make you my Bond Girl?’
Karen giggled. ‘I’ll see what I can do.’
‘I’m so sorry,’ he said, putting his arms round her. ‘Can you forgive me?’
‘Yes. But don’t do it again. You really hurt me by forgetting.’
‘I know. I really am sorry.’
Karen stepped back from his embrace and nodded. They needed to talk about the reality of their demanding schedules but now wasn’t the time. He’d apologised and, even more important to her, he’d obviously asked Steff to manage Bay Runners on her own that evening which was a huge sign of his commitment to their relationship. ‘Fancy showing me how sorry you are?’ She unfastened his apron and lifted it over his head.
‘The curry…?’
‘Food can wait.’ She unbuttoned his shirt and ran the tips of her fingers down his muscular chest. ‘This Bond Girl would like to play with James Bond’s loaded weapon. What do you say to leaving me shaken, but not stirred?’
Ryan laughed. ‘Go on then.’ He unzipped his trousers. ‘But this is for your eyes only.’
7
Alison
‘Are you sure I can’t tempt you with anything else?’ The waitress at Waterfront Lodge passed Alison her takeaway cup of tea.
‘Just the tea, thanks.’ Alison glanced at the glass cabinet loaded with sumptuous cakes and traybakes and her stomach rumbled appreciatively. Must be strong. Must be strong.
‘The salted caramel shortbread is freshly made and to die for,’ the waitress added. ‘Perfect mid-afternoon snack. But, if you’re sure…?’
Alison’s mouth watered. But she had to say no. It had been three weeks since she’d handed over her chocolate to Sarah and made a commitment to take control of her eating. And how long had that commitment lasted? Five hours? Six? What was wrong with her? Don’t do it. You don’t need it. But it looked so delicious.
‘Oh, go on then,’ she said. ‘Two slices please.’
Alison handed over the money and took the paper bag with a smile. It was a Saturday and what person in their right mind dieted on a weekend?
She’d barely stepped away from the counter before she opened the bag and took her first bite. Mmm. Closing her eyes, she savoured the buttery crumbliness of the shortbread, the saltiness of the gooey caramel, and the rich sweetness of the chocolate. Divine.
The warm early June weather had brought out dog walkers galore on the beach below her. Crossing the road and looking back towards North Bay Corner, she could see that the beach in front of the colourful beach huts was alive with kids playing and people soaking up the sun.
Finishing her first piece of shortbread, she took a sip from her tea, then reached into the bag for the second piece. No. Stop. If this was going to be her last weekend of indulgence, she was going to savour the second piece at her favourite spot: Stanley’s bench. The giant rusted steel sculpture of a local fisherman from the fifties, Stanley Moffatt, had been donated by an elderly resident as her legacy to the town she loved. Alison found something very comforting about sitting beside the colossal structure, relishing a rare opportunity to feel petite. Plus, it was above the rock pools; her special place.
She sat down on Stanley’s bench, sipping her tea, devouring the second shortbread, and absorbing herself in the buzz around her. Locals brushed shoulders with day-trippers and holidaymakers. There were families, groups of giggling teenagers, couples taking romantic strolls, and dog walkers. Mobility scooters travelled alongside cyclists, and joggers weaved in and out of the crowds. She really was fortunate to live in such a beautiful place that so many people wanted to visit and, looking at the North Sea twinkling in the sun, who could blame them?
She slipped off her jacket and closed her eyes as the sun kissed her bare arms and face. It was the most relaxed she’d felt in weeks. Dave had barely spoken to her since the plate-smashing incident but that was fine because Alison had nothing to say to him. She’d replayed that scene so many times. Although she wanted to believe it was an accident, that one statement – ‘I’ll show you childish’ – suggested a deliberate act. The lack of remorse had floored her and that parting shot about her in a bikini? Why had he felt the need to hurt her again? That night, she’d come so close to packing a bag and leaving, but where would she go? With no family and no close friends, even Dave in a foul mood was better than being alone.
Frantic barking interrupted her thoughts and drew her gaze to the left. A couple of dogs were chasing each other in a circle, ignoring the shouts of their owners who were attempting to untangle their leads. A tall, slim woman running towards them tried to avoid the chaos but it seemed that, wherever she moved, the dogs moved too, their leads stretching across her path.
Alison leapt off the bench as the woman screamed and tumbled full-length onto the pavement. One of the dog walkers rushed off and the other stood by, looking helpless.
Alison crouched down beside the woman. ‘Oh my God! Are you all right?’
‘A bit winded.’
‘Take it slowly,’ Alison said. ‘Let me help you.’
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