Wedding Bells at Butterfly Cove. Sarah Bennett

firm friends when everyone rode to Daniel’s rescue after his ex-agent stole his work and attempted to put on an exhibition without his knowledge.

      Pat and Bill had accepted Daniel into their life with a grace which left Aaron breathless with admiration, and not a little jealous over how well the new family structure was blending together. It had been a quarter of a century and his stepmother still hadn’t forgiven Aaron for being a living, breathing reminder of his mum. As though thoughts of Cathy had summoned him, Aaron’s younger brother, Luke, wandered into the kitchen, mouth stretched wide in a yawn.

      ‘Morning.’ Luke scrubbed his hand through his hair, sending the wayward curls tumbling in an artless display. Women loved those blond curls, not to mention the soulful brown eyes he could widen into a look both innocent and suggestive. Aaron shook his head. The ladies of London Town would be mourning his absence given he was also spending all his free time in Orcombe.

      Daniel grinned at him. ‘About time you showed up. Get your breakfast down you. Jordy will be here soon and I want to run over the plans for the mezzanine one last time before the builders arrive on Tuesday.’ Daniel had hired the local carpenter to project manage the conversion and he was proving a sound choice. With local connections, he’d brought on reliable labour and got some decent discounts on raw materials.

      The plan was to install a first floor in the main barn to house five self-contained apartments which could be rented by visiting artists. Each apartment would come with a purpose-built studio on the ground floor to cater for different mediums—pottery, painting, photography, sculpture and the like. A smaller outbuilding would then be converted into a multipurpose support space, housing a kiln, a small forge for iron-working, and even a darkroom for those traditionalists who preferred film to digital. The scope of the facility Daniel and Luke were creating took Aaron’s breath away.

      In addition to drawing up the design for the barn refurbishment, Luke had jumped in with both feet when Mia asked him to work up a harem theme for a pair of rooms in the main house. Free of the shackles of his junior role at a prestigious firm of architects, Luke had seized on the projects at Butterfly Cove like a starving man. He was happier than Aaron had seen him in a long time. Something had happened to Luke about a year previously, stealing the easy laughter from his eyes, but he’d been tight-lipped about it, claiming it was a work problem and nothing he needed his big brother to sort out.

      Being a tiny cog in a big wheel didn’t suit his little brother, any more than it suited him if Aaron was honest with himself. Getting a good degree and a placement with one of the big five accounting firms had always been top of his career wish list. But wishes and reality rarely gelled, and without the side work he took on, including looking after Daniel’s financial affairs, Aaron would be digging an escape tunnel.

      Where had that thought come from? He had a good job, was one of the youngest team leaders in the company. A smart flat in an up-and-coming part of the city, a good pension pot and the beginnings of a decent investment portfolio. His dad had drummed it into him from an early age: work hard, save well, live the best life you can within your means. So why so restless? Another side effect of all the change in Daniel’s life. Perhaps thirty was the new threshold for a midlife crisis.

      Feeling an uncomfortable itch between his shoulder blades, he turned to find Mia watching him with those big brown eyes of hers. She always saw too much. He flashed her a smile and tried to shake off the restless feelings stirring in his gut. Settled, steady, that was the life he had, and the life he wanted, too. No drama, no mad emotional roller-coaster. Boring. He frowned. Introspection was for moody, artistic types. He preferred action.

      Luke opened the back door, letting the tangy scents of the ocean fill the kitchen. Aaron breathed deeply. He could almost taste the freshness of the post-storm air on the back of his tongue. The faint sound of birdsong drifted from the garden, making up his mind. It was too nice a day to be stuck in the house. He turned to Mia. ‘Leave the garden room, and I’ll finish the last bits later.’ Apart from glossing the doorframe, everything else was dressing.

      She tilted her head, a quizzical look in her eyes. ‘If you’re sure?’

      ‘I’m sure. Don’t let me catch you up a ladder trying to hang those bloody curtains either.’ The creamy material, covered in huge cabbage roses, had been edged with a red-checked pattern. Not something he’d ever have put together, but Mia had an eye for design he couldn’t fault. Huge stacks of matching bedding, cushion covers and throws sat in neat piles on the dining-room table. He’d learnt more about pelmets, valances and padded headboards than he’d thought possible. And it would have taken a braver man than he to point out a fitted sheet, a couple of pillowcases and a duvet cover were all that was required to make a bed.

      She gave him a look, like butter wouldn’t melt, and he knew she’d be rappelling from the upstairs bannisters if it took her fancy. ‘Will you be back for lunch?’

      That was something else he liked about her. Even though they were rushing to get everything finished, it never escaped her that everyone was giving up their free time to see her dream achieved. She never demanded, never expected, just gratefully accepted whatever efforts people could put in. ‘I won’t be long, just fancied a bit of fresh air.’

      ‘Of course. Why don’t you take Jamie’s bike?’

      Daniel glanced up from the drawings spread across the table. ‘It’s in the garage – help yourself.’ The way the two of them had come to terms with the subject of her late husband stunned him anew. He might never have lived in the sprawling house at Butterfly Cove, but Jamie’s memory lingered there in everyday objects. Jamie would always be a part of Mia’s life and Daniel accepted it without a fuss.

      ‘I’ll be back before lunch.’ He nudged his brother aside to get out of the back door and Luke’s hand fell companionably upon his shoulder. They walked in silence towards the garage where Luke gave him a hand to swing open the rusty up-and-over door and then to lift the silver mountain bike from the hooks on the wall.

      ‘Everything okay?’ The edges of Luke’s eyes crinkled in concern.

      Aaron nodded. ‘Yes, Spud. Just need a bit of air, that’s all.’ He glanced over his shoulder towards the kitchen door. ‘Those two…’

      Luke squeezed his shoulder. ‘Happy as pigs in shit. Nothing like true love to make a man feel hopelessly inadequate.’

      Aaron tossed his brother a wry grin. ‘You, too?’

      A cloud of sadness wiped the sunny smile from Luke’s face. ‘You have no idea, mate.’ He shook himself like a dog after a dip in a stream. ‘Don’t mind me. Enjoy your ride.’ Tucking his hands in the front pockets of his jeans, Luke strolled away. The casual pose might have worked better had his shoulders not been stiff with tension. Aaron frowned. It wasn’t like him to keep secrets. Pondering not only what Luke was hiding from him, but the best way to get him talking, Aaron peddled down the twisting driveway.

      Blooms of white cow parsley and shiny yellow buttercups decorated the long grass verges on either side of the country lane, and the fields behind were a sea of pale-green wheat stalks. Reaching the crossroads to the main road, he paused to consider his options. Left would take him along the familiar route towards the main village of Orcombe Sands and the train station. Madeline and Richard lived somewhere towards the right. They’d likely be piling into Richard’s sleek Mercedes with Bill and Pat, ready for another day of toil in Mia’s garden. Not wanting to get caught skiving, he checked both ways then crossed the road to follow the lane into unexplored territory.

      Muscles suitably warm, Aaron flicked the gears a couple of notches higher and increased his effort. A welcome burn began in his thigh muscles. He drew in a deep breath, letting it out on a happy laugh. Who would ever choose the gym if they had this on their doorstep? Cycling in London took a level of bravado he didn’t possess, and the car-choked streets around his flat would have filled his lungs with dirty fumes, not fresh air.

      Fields gave way to trees, dappling the road with leafy shadows. Weeks away from their full thickness, the boughs offered glimpses of houses tucked a few feet away from the road. Old-fashioned wooden gates bearing