Free The Promise by Freda Lightfoot

far.’
    ‘Like this?’ Despite her earlier reaction to the little dinghy, she was impressed.
    Chrissie was fascinated too by his confidence in handling the tiller, steering the small boat through eddies and currents, and away from sandbanks. Or more particularly by the power of his hands and arms, and the way the breeze plastered the open-necked shirt he wore against his broad chest and muscled shoulders. He was wearing shorts, and his legs too were pretty impressive. She averted her gaze, embarrassed by her own interest.
    Ben beached the boat beneath an overhanging willow. When he switched off the engine the silence rolled in upon them. There wasn’t a sound save for that of a mallard as it quietly plopped into the water. Quite magical.
    He handed her out and Chrissie was thankful to feel solid ground beneath her feet again, giving a little sigh of relief which brought forth a smile.
    ‘I haven’t drowned you yet, have I?’
    ‘I’m hoping you won’t.’ She found herself returning his smile, noting how blue his eyes were, how she liked the way his hair had been bleached by the sun, and fell untidily over a broad brow. She felt a small glow start up inside, a sensation she hadn’t experienced in a long time.
    They picked their way over rocks and through bracken and furze. A bramble caught on her skirt and Ben helped her to untangle it. The touch of his fingers as they accidentally brushed against hers brought a sudden warmth to her cheeks with the awareness of how alone they were here, on the far side of the lake, the tension between them now of a very different hue.
    Ben found a mossy patch for them to sit on, dry and cushioned. ‘I like to sit here sometimes, in the quiet of an evening. I’ll light a fire with driftwood and run out a line, catch some perch for my supper.’
    The idea entranced her. ‘And is this where you bring your girlfriends?’ Now what on earth had possessed her to ask such a thing? Chrissie could have bitten off her tongue.
    There was a short pause as Ben thought about his coming divorce, and Karen. He really didn’t want to spoil the moment by going in to all of that unpleasant stuff right now. Nor did he want this girl’s sympathy. Hadn’t he been embarrassed enough by his mother’s interfering and bossy organising? The last thing he wanted was for her to think he was seeking a replacement mother for his daughter. Yet neither did he wish to appear to lie or cover up his situation.
    ‘Actually, I’ve just come through the nasty process of disposing of my wife. Through the divorce courts, I hasten to add, not in any more macabre way. Though there were times …’
    She didn’t laugh at his bad joke. ‘I’m sorry.’
    ‘Don’t be, it was the best decision I’d made in years. How about you?’
    Chrissie wrapped her arms about her knees, rested her chin on them with a small sigh, and told him briefly about Tom. ‘It was probably the shortest marriage on record.’
    ‘I don’t know what to say.’
    ‘There’s no need for you to say anything. In fact, I prefer people to say nothing at all, rather than the wrong thing.’ She tried a smile, avoiding his gaze so as not to see the pity in his eyes.
    ‘I know what you mean. Divorce seems to disturb and shock people in some strange way too. Even my oldest friends have withdrawn slightly, as if it were a disease they might catch.’
    She laughed. ‘You’re trying to get out of a bad marriage, while I’m trying to avoid being drawn into one.’
    Ben was instantly alert. ‘Really? There is someone, then, back home?’
    ‘Not really … well, in a way. The thing is, I don’t want to marry just because Peter thinks I’d be an asset to him as a wife, or because I need—’ She stopped, unwilling to mention her demanding mother, not wishing to appear pathetic.
    ‘You’d be an asset to any man, but I know what youmean. You want to be loved for yourself, not because he fancies having a wife to look after him, or to chat up his