Free Summer of Love by Katie Fforde Page B

Sian was about to offer to go when there was a screech of brakes and the noise of metal against stone.
    Sian would have run to check, but she was hampered by the chairs on either side of her. Fiona looked worried and then her expression changed as she saw the man standing outside the conservatory.
    ‘Fuckity fuck fuck’, said a male voice from across the lawn. ‘Who put that bloody cherub there?’
    There was a pause. Nobody spoke. Everyone looked expectantly towards the sound of the blasphemer. An intruder wouldn’t have sworn so loudly, and would have probably done his research and known about the cherub. So who was it?
    A tall dishevelled-looking man appeared in the doorway. ‘Oh sod it. It’s a dinner party. Hi, Mum!’
    Sian, who had been trying to shift her chair to allow a bit of movement away from the table, hadn’t seen the man who’d spoken. Now her view of him was obscured as people got up to make way for Fiona as she squeezed through to reach him.
    She saw him wrap his arms round his mother and bend to embrace her. And then he looked up.
    She thought she was going to faint. She thought she was dreaming. And then she realised she wasn’t, and she wanted to run away.
    A sip of wine gave her some thinking time. No one had noticed her reaction, they were all greeting the Prodigal, but Sian knew any second Fiona would start on introductions.
    Fortunately, Melissa got up. ‘Angus!’ she squealed delightedly. ‘Do you remember me? The last time you saw me, you pushed me in to the nettles!’
    The commotion went on. Melissa was now hanging on to Angus, giving everyone the impression they had been childhood sweethearts, and his pushing her in the nettles was what boys did to girls they liked. For all Sian knew, this was true. Carefully, she pushed her chair back and was halfway out of it when Fiona called her name.
    ‘Sian! Darling! This is Angus! Angus, this is Sian, my neighbour and helper. I don’t know how I’d have managed without her, in fact.’
    Sian forced herself to look up. Gus, the father of her child, looked back at her. He’d hardly charged. Tall, sun-streaked, dark-blond hair and a wicked, crooked smile.
    ‘Sian?’ he said, staring at her as if she was a statue come to life or something equally bizarre. ‘Sian! What the hell are you doing here?’
    Sian found that all the saliva in her mouth had dried up and her head was swimming. She felt a physical jolt. All the desire she had felt for him the first time round came back in a rush. How could her body betray her like this? She was in trouble. She took another sip of wine, hoping it might make it possible for her to speak.
    ‘I …’ was all she managed. She just couldn’t believe he was here, in real life, the man who had taken her heart, her passion, her dreams, and run away with them, leaving her only with her much-loved son. Come on, brain, she implored it. Think of something to say! If only he’d got less attractive in the past five years, but he hadn’t, he was the same, only more – of everything!
    ‘Have you met before?’ said Fiona. ‘What an extraordinary coincidence! Why didn’t you say you knew my son?’
    ‘I didn’t know!’ Sian managed to speak at last. The wine had helped. ‘I had no idea Gus was your son. You talked about Angus.’ She frowned. ‘And your surname is Matcham!’ Just in time she stopped herself adding, ‘Not Berresford.’ His name shouldn’t be engraved in her memory and the fact it was must remain a secret.
    ‘So you two have met before?’ asked Melissa, sounding proprietorial.
    ‘Oh yes we have,’ said Gus emphatically. ‘We very much have. Although it’s been a long time since we saw each other.’
    The way he looked at her made it very clear he was remembering their time together in detail and Sian blushed as she remembered too. She was extremely embarrassed to be having such memories in a room full of people, all of whom seemed to be staring at her.
    ‘How did you meet?’ asked