Even so, it was hard not to tell him how much she missed him. His laughter booming across a room, his terrible dad dancing, and awful karaoke voice. His sense of fun. Was it too much to ask that he come back to share it with her again?
Yes, it was.
Half an hour passed in the blink of an eye. Stella sensed her son was getting restless after he’d looked at his phone a couple of times. She was about to close down their conversation when he spoke.
‘Go on, then. I know you’re dying to ask me.’
‘About what?’ She feigned mock ignorance.
‘Met anyone nice this week?’ he mimicked.
Stella clapped her hands with glee. ‘The way you’re teasing me means that you might have?’
Noah roared with laughter. Stella wished she could reach out to him, bring him into her arms. Feel his bulk envelop her.
‘Actually, Mum, I haven’t. But I will tell you as soon as I do.’
‘All I can say is she’d better look after you. You deserve to be happy after that cow, Tara, broke your heart.’
‘Mum!’ Noah cried. ‘Say it like it is, why don’t you?’
‘Well, you know me. If anyone goes out to hurt my family, they have me to deal with.’
The conversation filtered out, and they said their goodbyes. Noah joked about her being overprotective of him, but he was the first of her children to have a broken heart. He had an Australian ex-wife and two children, their marriage lasting eight years before there had been an amicable split.
Everything had been going fine until Tara had decided to go back to Sydney. Noah had gone to pieces, even though he’d known it could be a great opportunity for his children. Now Stella zoomed with Zak and Amber as much as she did with their dad.
Technology was wonderful at times, but it was a poor substitute for the real thing.
CHAPTER NINE
Ava marched back to the hotel, cross with herself for overreacting. Seeing Jack had taken her by surprise, and it was obvious that he was shocked to see her, too. She’d touched a nerve about his brother, yet at least she wouldn’t slip up if she bumped into Mr and Mrs Broadhurst, so there was that.
Then again, she’d told Jack about her father, too. And how was she supposed to know Dan had died? She didn’t keep abreast of what happened in Sapphire Lake. It would always have a special place in her heart, but she had been a child when she’d last visited, and she’d moved on without a backward glance, as teenagers do.
Still, by the time she’d eaten breakfast, she was feeling more upbeat. It was half past nine, and she was pushing her luck as her meeting was at twelve, but she wanted to see the lake now it was lighter, so she wrapped up warm again and set off.
Keeping a look out for a bouncy chocolate Labrador with a miserable owner, Ava ventured back along the road. This time, she turned off at the sign for the visitors’ centre and trod carefully down the steep zigzag driveway towards the lake. It was a few seconds before it came into sight, and she gasped as another familiar friend showed itself to her.
She stopped for a moment to take in its splendour. Here, too, it was quiet, but she could hear the faint hustle and bustle of people in the distance. There were only a handful of small boats braving the lake. The unusual cold snap might keep the visitors at bay, but the die-hard locals wouldn’t shy away from a lashing of rain and a brisk wind.
The clouds had mostly cleared now, though, and a blue sky was visible above the trees at the far side of the lake. The water sliced a pathway through the trees, stretching as far as the eye could see.
For a moment, she stood as still as the lake. It was so… calm, peaceful.
It was so… cold.
She stamped her feet before walking on, tucking her hands into her pockets.
The Lakeside Café coming up on her left was definitely welcoming. She popped inside and up to the counter, situated on the back wall. The establishment was pleasant, all wooden floors and white tables. Its walls were decked with seaside memorabilia, a nautical theme of white and blue that reminded her more of an English riviera eatery than a place for drinks and snacks by the side of a lake. But it was clean and welcoming, and warm.
‘Morning, love, what can I get you?’ a woman in her mid-fifties asked, her blonde hair piled up in a messy bun, glasses pushed up to hold her fringe away from her eyes.
‘Morning, I’d like a mug of tea, please.’
‘Anything to go with it?’
‘No, thanks. I’ve had breakfast.’
