‘You should have told me.’

I gave a wretched nod. ‘I know. I’m so sorry. I genuinely didn’t think this was anything more than nuisance messages. I never would have knowingly put you and Hope at risk. I never would have stayed here if I’d known. Like I said—’

‘I can’t believe you were dealing with this by yourself,’ he reached across the table and took my ice-cold hand. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

I shrugged. ‘I thought I’d left that awfulness behind. I was trying to start again. I didn’t want to contaminate this lovely place with the disgusting dregs of my life in London.’ The one millionth tear of the past two days dribbled out, and I swiped it away with a frustrated hand. ‘I was ashamed.’

‘Eleanor, you did nothing wrong. Why would you be ashamed? And can I remind you that this entire village has been at war for the past thirty-six years? Can you imagine the nasty, petty, ugly things that people have said and done around here? I’m not living in some naïve idyllic countryside bubble. And I know that sometimes people hate for reasons that are completely irrational and unjustified.’

I knew I should tell him quite how much I deserved the hate, but I was so tired, and so scared, and needed him not to hate me too.

‘I’m a little insulted, to be honest, that you thought so little of me – of what we’re building here, together – that you wouldn’t share this.’ He let go of my hand, then, and the pain in his eyes made my throat ache.

‘It was a couple of messages… this kind of thing was an everyday part of my job. You don’t tell me every time someone at work has a go at you, or sends an arsey email…’ My voice fizzled out, unable to deliver such a feeble argument with any conviction.

‘Or sends me a heart in the post?’ He shook his head, frustrated. ‘Don’t downplay this. They sent messages to your personal phone. You left your home in the middle of the night.’ He paused, waiting for me to find the courage to look at him. ‘You should have told me.’

My whole body drooped. ‘I know. I can’t tell you how sorry I am for embroiling you in my problems. Do you want me to go?’

He sat back, then, eyes wide with shock. ‘No! I want you to trust me enough to let your problems be our problems. This is your home, Eleanor. I want you to stop thinking like I’m allowing you to stay. Like there’s any doubt about whether you belong here. I want you to not even think about that as an option.’ He paused, mouth curling in the hint of a smile. ‘Team Damson.’

I managed a rueful smile in return. ‘Team Damson.’

‘Most of all, I want us to stop dithering about pretending to play it cool and officially admit that we’re a serious, committed, exclusive, head-over-heels-for-each-other couple.’