‘I thought we were talking about you and your complicated marriage.’
‘I’ll tell you about me if you tell me about you.’
‘Like I said. I like sex. And I’m single so why the hell not. My daughter lives with her dad, there’s just me at home. Bills need paying. I’ve a mortgage. I brought my daughter up in this house, I don’t want to move. Besides, it’s good money and I can work the hours I want to work. I like my job.’
‘You did seem to be having a good time?’
Amanda fixed him with an intense look. ‘Sometimes it’s particularly satisfying.’
Trev moved to his side, his breath on her face. ‘Ever fake it?’
‘Why bother? You’re not here for me, you’re here for you. That’s fine. You don’t care if I have a good time. It just so happens that on some occasions… I do too.’
‘Right.’ His pupils dilated.
‘So you have kids, you’ve been together for years…’
Trev moved closer to her. ‘I don’t think I want to talk about me any more.’ He reached his hand to her hip, pulling her into him. ‘I’ve still got twenty minutes, haven’t I?’
Emily
Emily knocked on the old green painted door at Betty and Bill’s. A breeze whipped up some baking smells, making Emily’s belly rumble. She’d not been able to stop eating since she got home, she was permanently hungry. Another baby related thing, she assumed. Or the not having to be on film or stage thing… nobody looking over her shoulder, tutting whenever she put anything other than fresh air in her mouth.
She could hear Radio Four coming through the single glaze of the cottage windows. She knocked again, louder. ‘Come in!’ came a voice.
Pushing the door open, Emily shouted out. ‘Betty? Are you in? It’s Emily. Emily Nance.’
‘Well, bugger me, Emily Nance! We’ve not seen you in an age.’ Betty came out from the kitchen, pulling a flour-covered apron over her head. ‘How are you? You’re looking well.’ She pulled Emily into a hug and, like Lolly’s yesterday, it was just the kind of hug she needed. All maternal and warm. ‘Tea? Cake? I’ve saffron buns coming out in a minute.’
‘Oh my god, that would be amazing,’ gushed Emily, who would have shipped Betty’s saffron buns out to the US were it not frowned upon with the air miles and whatnot. ‘Your saffron buns are the best, Betty.’
‘Well, that’s kind of you to say.’
Betty milled about in the kitchen, putting the kettle on. Reaching for a teapot. Getting plates and knives out, placing them on the oilcloth-covered table. ‘Sit down, love, go on,’ instructed Betty.
Emily took a seat at the head of the table by the window. A rambling rose covered part of the glaze, emerging green and with a promise of buds in June. The kitchen was full of pots and recipe books. Several mismatched chairs surrounded the table as well as an old wingback in the corner with a crocheted throw over it.
‘Now tell me, what brings you back from the bright lights?’ asked Betty, tipping the saffron buns out onto a rack. She put her oven-gloved hand on the stainless-steel kettle that was warming up on the range cooker. ‘How long you here for this time?’
Emily sighed. ‘Forever?’
‘Forever? That’s a long old time.’
‘Yeah. Would be nice though, to think I could stay here forever.’
‘What about all your adventures though? Eh? I thought you loved it in America. I thought Bill said you were living the dream or something, isn’t that what you said the last time you were here?’
Emily cringed. ‘That probably is what I said, yes. I don’t know, maybe I was trying to sell it to myself more than Bill.’
Betty nodded, wisely. ‘We’ve all done it. I tried living up Fowey once, but it just wasn’t me.’
‘I guess.’ Emily took the plate that Betty offered. She poured milk into her tea. She waited for Betty to officially offer her a saffron bun, salivating at the smell, just knowing that the butter would melt and the bun would be warm and the comfort would be off the actual scale.
‘Go on. Don’t be polite!’ said Betty, which was all the encouragement Emily needed. She reached for a bun and the butter, cutting it open and watching the steam rise. ‘So, what have you dropped in for? Not that it isn’t entirely lovely to see you, of course!’
Emily took a bite of the saffron bun, closing her eyes to savour it. ‘Oh. My. God,’ she said, mouth full. ‘That is sooooo good!’
Betty looked pleased.
A few more mouthfuls, Emily regained control of her belly and thoughts. ‘So… this is a bit awkward, and I feel awful asking you to get involved in any way, but I need help.’
‘What can I do?’ asked Betty, pulling a chair up at the table too.
‘Somebody came into Cakebreads just now, asking after me. The girl said she didn’t know me and that the person should come back later to ask you.’
‘Aye, I’m in at around two.’
‘Yes, that’s what she said. The thing is…’ Emily paused. She bit down on her lip because she didn’t want to let on that she felt like she could cry. ‘The thing is, I don’t want the person asking for me to know where I am. He knows that I have a place here, but he doesn’t know exactly where and I can’t have him find me.’
‘Right…’
‘And I know it’s awkward for you, I don’t like to think you have to get involved in my life like this, but I really need some time.’
‘Has he hurt you? Is he…’
‘No! No, it’s nothing like that. Well, not exactly, no. It’s just that… I need to get my head straight before I see him. Well, his boss Jackson, actually. Who has no doubt sent him on the strict instruction to find me at all costs.’
‘Right…’
‘Jackson is my ex. I left… under difficult circumstances. I need to make sure that I work out what I want to say before I see either of them. He’ll try to get me to go back with him, it’ll be the only reason Jackson sent him.’
‘And you don’t want to go back with him?’
‘I don’t, Betty. I really don’t. I don’t think it’s good for me. I don’t think it’s… well… I need to be here. At home. In Cornwall.’
‘Okay. So this chap, what does he look like?’
‘He’s tallish. Maybe six foot. Dark hair. Well-groomed, immaculate, in fact. Suited and booted.’ Jackson always insisted on all his interns looking the part. It was all to do with his brand, apparently. ‘You’ll recognise him. He doesn’t look like a local. And he’s driving a big black car.’
‘Oh, that’s his Range Rover I saw earlier.’
‘Yeah, that’s him.’
‘Right.’
‘Would you mind?’
Betty poured herself a tea, reaching for a bun. ‘Of course not, my bewtie. You don’t want to be found, we won’t say where you are. I’ll get the message out. You know this village will look after you.’
Emily relaxed a little, that was one of the best things about getting a place here. Nobody cared about her. In as much as nobody cared who she was in America. Or who she used to be here in the UK. Nobody was interested in her glossy parties and free designer gear. Did she contribute to the village? Did she buy local? Did she lord it up, or did she just get on with her life and let the village get on with theirs, that’s all they were bothered about.
‘Don’t you worry, love. Bill and I will sort it. Let Jenny know too. I’ll get a message to the rest of the village. It’ll be Emily who, until you tell us different.’
‘Thanks, Betty, I really appreciate it.’
‘No problem. Now, let me pack up some of these buns for you to take back to your place. If you’re going in to hiding, you’re going to need sustenance. Junior can bring you some mackerel up later and I’ll get Jenny to bring you some more bread up tomorrow. And milk. Okay. Hey, there’s a new pizza van that visits now. Every Wednesday outside the shop. Wood fired. Very posh. One of us can bring you some up if needs be.’
‘Thanks, Betty, thanks so much.’
&
nbsp; ‘Now, go on. Get yourself back before this Jackson character returns. Nip up the ope, he’ll never find you.’
Jess
Jess flicked through her phone, waiting for the kettle to boil. Facebook was full of RIPs for some celebrity Jess had never heard of. Quote after quote after quote of not looking at your feet but up at the stars. Jess knew the quotes were right, she’d lived many years of her life afraid to look up, but right now she could feel circumstances forcing her head back down again.
Lolly hadn’t been back in touch since last week, so perhaps the idea of them meeting up would go away now. Except that the more Jess thought about it, the less worried she’d become, and the more excited at the prospect of reconnecting with girls who knew her better than anyone, despite how much time had passed. Once upon a time, she needed them, their support, their love. She needed them just to be able to breathe. And it wasn’t that she didn’t have friends: she knew people, she had mates, she enjoyed socials with her colleagues. It was more that the prospect of meeting up with them had whet her appetite for the kind of connection she’d had with them before life got in the way and ruined it all. Besides, if Jay Trewellan was going to be around, she’d want to be avoiding those nights out anyway.
She saw him this morning. He looked… actually she didn’t want to think about how he looked. Or how he’d smiled at her. Or how he’d asked for a meeting with her later on this afternoon. He specified just the two of them. He wanted to work out the best way to manage the company’s main accounts. Was she wrong to wonder if he had an ulterior motive? Would that even have crossed his mind? He was a professional, surely. It was a sensible course of action. Why then was she overanalysing? She had to get a grip. He was here to do a job. Her feelings would pass. She just needed to remember that any feelings were a result of nostalgia, not real, living emotion.
‘Jess.’
Jay stood at the archway to the kitchen, leaning against it with a mug in his hand, smiling.
‘Jay…’ She had never wished so hard for the ground to swallow her whole.
‘I wasn’t sure if we ask around for coffee or just make our own?’
The kettle boiled and Jess poured steaming water onto her peppermint teabag. ‘We make our own. We used to ask around but as the team got bigger so did the drinks orders and then some people didn’t bother making them and others would make them every two minutes for an excuse to hide in the kitchen.’ Which clearly wasn’t a safe place to hide any more. ‘So it’s each to their own now. You might have to boil more water, there’s not much left.’
‘Right.’ He took the kettle from her, faffing with the taps and spraying himself with cold water as it caught on the kettle lid. ‘Shit.’ Jess threw a tea towel for him. ‘Cheers.’
She remembered back when they first met, down at the Hub in St Ives. She was there for a summer season and he’d been there for a few years. He’d hang a tea towel from the hook in his jeans and, as they got closer, she’d pull it from him as he walked past, flicking him with it before throwing it back for him to catch. The first time they kissed was in the backroom. It was closing time. Just the two of them there to lock up. She’d nicked his tea towel again and he chased after her, pinning her to the wall with it. She’d panicked at first, frightened she couldn’t escape and worried about what he’d do. Jay sensed something, eased back on his grip, apologised, asked her if she was okay and as she looked into his eyes – the way you do when you’re eighteen and think life is like the movies – she’d felt herself relax into him, all fear gone. He wasn’t threatening, he wasn’t intimidating. He made her feel safe somehow. She’d told him she was okay, barely able to breathe. He leaned in to kiss her, the first time she’d kissed anyone since the party at Emily’s house and she wasn’t frightened. It was slow and gentle and caring and she lost track of all time and space and reality and the world fizzed and she melted and, shit, how could she have walked away from that all those years ago?
‘So we’re meeting at three?’ he asked as she took her tea and went to leave.
‘Yes. Three. If that’s okay with you.’
‘That’s great. I’m looking forward to it. See you then.’
‘Great.’
But it wasn’t great. It wasn’t great all afternoon. Jess sent off her pitch to the dairy farm, talked to a few clients about some new work they wanted doing. Looked through some creative proposals that the designers had come up with for a restaurant rebrand. They were good, but there was something missing. Normally, Jess would know how to fix it and they all looked at her, waiting for her steer when she told them it wasn’t quite right. But she had nothing except memories and regret.
Three o’clock approached. She went to put the kettle on again, taking out a cafetière for two. She nipped to the loo then came back via his desk. ‘Coffee?’
‘Please.’
‘See you in the meeting room.’
‘Great.’
So there she was, laptop under her arm. Tray with two cups, a full cafetière, and some biscuits she found at the back of the cupboard. ‘Don’t expect this treatment every time we sit down to a meeting,’ she said, her hand shaking as she pushed them towards him. ‘It’s a one-off, ’cause you’re new. God knows how long they’ve been in the cupboard for.’
‘Wow, thanks. You really know how to welcome a guy.’ He grinned at her, his eyes sparkling.
In silence, she poured them coffee. She passed him the sugar, she sat herself down. She tried to get her heart to calm by breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth – as inconspicuously as she could. She took up a seat opposite him, crossing her legs beneath the table, taking extra care for them not to touch. She thought she’d prepared herself for this, for being in the same office as him. In the same room. The only man she’d ever truly loved, something that terrified her at the time, something that still terrified her. And as she looked up to him to start the meeting and their eyes met, it was like she was back in the Hub’s back office again and she knew she was probably going to have to resign.
So,’ she began. ‘How’s your first day going?’
‘It’s good,’ he said, stirring his coffee. ‘The team seems bright.’
‘They’re young. They have brightness in abundance.’
‘I’ll try not to hold that against them,’ he said, with a laugh. ‘And you? How’s your day?’ he asked.
‘Me? It’s fine. Thanks, yeah. Great. A couple of bits of art direction to sort out, but for the most part, it’s good. Okay, so maybe we should go through client by client and we can make a plan about who’s going to be the best main point of contact.’
‘We could do that.’ He paused, sipping at his coffee. Eyes still fixed firmly on her. ‘Or we could catch up,’ he said, gently. ‘Find out what we’ve each been up to for all these years.’
Fuck.
Jay put his cup down. ‘I never stopped thinking about you. Wondering how you were doing, how life was treating you, wondering if you were happy…’
Jess shifted in her seat. Her heart raced. He should stop talking.
‘Wondering if you ever met anybody? Settled down?’
‘I haven’t met anyone,’ she said, wishing she didn’t want to know how he felt about that. ‘I’m fine. I mean, I’m happy. Life is good.’
‘Don’t you get lonely?’
Yes! All the time! And now you’re back that’s got a whole lot worse! ‘No. Not really. I’m fine on my own.’
‘You always were happy to be on your own, weren’t you? You never seemed to need anyone. I think that was part of the attraction, it was like you were with me ’cause you wanted to be, not because you needed to be. It was…’ He paused, and Jess hoped he wouldn’t finish the sentence. ‘It was very sexy.’
‘Jay, please.’
‘What?’
‘Don’t do this. We’re at work. You’re married.’
‘I know, and it’s good. I’m happy, but I guess your first loves never fully go away, do they?’
‘We
were kids.’
‘Doesn’t mean we weren’t in love.’
‘I can’t have been that much in love, I walked away,’ she said. ‘And you got together with Niamh, so even if you were, you got over it pretty quickly.’
‘It was eighteen months later.’
‘Still. You met someone else, and you’re happily married. And I’m… happily single. So there we are. No stress. No complications. Just me and my job. Happy days.’
‘Fair enough, I guess.’ Jay took a sip of coffee. ‘If that’s what you want, I mean.’
‘Yeah. It is. It means I can focus on work.’ Jess tapped her laptop to reinforce the point. ‘Which we should do now.’
‘Jess.’
She slammed her pen down, an act of frustration making him raise his eyebrows, which frustrated her even more. ‘What, Jay? What?’
‘Jess, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make it awkward. I just think there is some housekeeping to do so we can get things out of the way, focus on work like you say. I’m not here to cause a problem, Jess.’ He paused, letting out a sigh as he moved bits of paper around. ‘Look, I took this job because it was a great opportunity. A rare offer in Cornwall. Something I could do to push myself. Something to get the money coming in so that Niamh could take a step back, be with the kids, retrain maybe. I didn’t do it to piss you off.’
Hearing Niamh’s name again pinched at Jess’s mood. ‘I’m not pissed off.’
‘But you’re not okay.’
Jess paused. She had two options. Be honest – I’m not okay, turns out I probably still love you, I’ve probably always loved you. I probably only walked away because I couldn’t handle the intensity of our relationship, it was too much, too young, I had baggage. Or she could lie. ‘I am fine. I am more than fine. I am great. Like I say, happy in my life, happy in my work. I love this job. I love the people. I love the challenge too. I know exactly what you mean about there not being many offers like this down in Cornwall and I totally understand you wanting to progress and make the most of the opportunity. You didn’t need to think twice about taking the job, this is for you. You’re going to be great. Let’s just get on with what we have to discuss, shall we? I have quite a bit to do after our meeting.’
Her Best Friend's Secret: A gripping, emotional novel about love, life and the power of friendship Page 5