by Suzanne Snow
Annie groaned. ‘Oh, please don’t say that! After Edinburgh I’m still not at all used to bumping into people who know me every time I leave the cottage and who like to know what I’m up to. I dread the thought of gossip.’
Sam’s smile was sympathetic and understanding. ‘It’s really not that bad. People do mean well, even though there will always be gossip about something. Just about anybody would help you if you needed it and the village has a lovely community spirit, but I realise it’s changed over the years.’ Sam’s expression altered then, became more mischievous, and her eyes glinted with merriment. ‘But Annie, if you’ve attracted the attention of the delectable Mr Beresford then people are bound to take notice. The entire village is practically holding its breath for a new Mrs Beresford and Sarah seems to think she’s in with a shot.’
‘Oh?’ Annie aimed for casual, not certain she’d achieved it and Sam’s beady gaze was still on her.
‘She hasn’t a hope. She’s made no secret of the fact that her career comes first and that’s fine, but she’s not interested in a family or what really goes on here. She doesn’t understand what Kilnbeck means to Jon and I can’t imagine him living in that house forever without kids, can you? He’d be a brilliant dad. Sarah won’t be at the front of the queue, however many fancy parties she lures him to.’
Annie felt her pleasure in the evening slip away like sand through fingers. She couldn’t blame Sam for her directness when she knew little of her past and what had really brought Annie to Thorndale, but Sam’s remarks slashed home nonetheless, slicing through Annie’s heart as she thought of Jon and his words from last night. How could she let herself think of him, or give voice to the attraction simmering between them, knowing he could be looking to settle down, to start a family? Annie was still trying to piece herself together after her recent heartbreak, it wouldn’t be fair of her to begin something with Jon that couldn’t go anywhere.
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.’ Sam caught sight of Annie’s stricken expression and threw her an apologetic glance. ‘Let’s change the subject. What did you think of the jewellery designer at The Courtyard? I saw you looking at their stuff.’
The wind was still growling outside, its noisy roar becoming louder with every moment, when the sitting room door burst open before Annie could reply. Charlie erupted into the room, followed, to Annie’s horror, by Jon and the tall boy she had seen at the post office. Annie felt an explosion of dismay rush through her body and her heart began to beat a little quicker as her glance raced beyond Charlie to meet Jon’s gaze. He seemed taken aback when he noticed her, and surprise flared briefly in his eyes.
‘Blimey, it’s nasty out there,’ Charlie exclaimed. He threw his coat onto the back of a chair and hurried to stand in front of the roaring blaze. ‘Hey, you two, I’m glad to see you’ve lit the fire. Can’t believe we’re still using it in summer.’
‘Charlie,’ Sam said with an exasperated grin, shuffling up to make room on the sofa and looking across to the boy. ‘For goodness’ sake, move away. Nobody else can get warm. Hi, Nathan, how are you?’ She pointed to the space she’d made nearby. ‘Would you like to sit down?’
‘I’m fine,’ the boy replied quickly, still hovering by the door. Sam stood up as Charlie tipped more logs into the fire and kicked them back with his boot.
‘Come and meet Annie,’ Sam said kindly, holding out her hand, and the boy tentatively stepped forward. ‘Annie, Nathan. Nathan, Annie. Nathan’s here for the summer getting some work experience on the estate, and Annie’s just moved here from Edinburgh.’
‘Hi, Nathan.’ Annie’s smile was warm and she saw that up close he seemed even younger than she had realised, wariness evident in his eyes. ‘It was you I saw in the shop the other day, wasn’t it?’
Nathan nodded, more polite than friendly. He looked at Jon, and Annie knew he was uncomfortable as Jon dropped a reassuring hand on his shoulder.
‘I’ll put the kettle on.’ Sam turned to look at Charlie and Jon as she began to move towards the door. ‘Who’s for hot drinks?’
Annie was quicker. ‘I’ll do it.’ She stood up and Sam gave her a grateful smile. ‘I won’t be long.’
‘No thanks,’ Nathan said abruptly, turning towards the hall. ‘I’m going to walk back.’
‘Stay,’ Sam pleaded, glancing across to Jon as though for support. ‘You’re very welcome and it’s grim outside now.’
Nathan shook his head, throwing Jon a quick apologetic glance and then he was gone. Annie too was glad of an excuse to leave the room, hearing the bang of the front door as Nathan escaped into the blustery night. She was glowing, even though she was no longer beside the fire and her footfall sounded very loud as she scurried along the darkened passageway to the kitchen. She made coffee for everybody and by the time she was adding milk to three cups, Charlie had appeared, and he carried the tray back to the sitting room.
Sam was talking quietly with Jon and they both looked up when Annie entered. She found her seat again and thanked Charlie as she accepted a steaming mug. He put the tray down on a coffee table and sank onto the sofa beside Sam, pulling her gently against his side.
Annie would rather take flight and go home, as Nathan had done, then she could almost pretend that she had not seen Jon this evening. Whenever she closed her eyes, she remembered the fleeting touch of his hand and every recollection left her craving more. Certain he was watching her, she glanced up, meeting his gaze with a cool one of her own. She turned to Charlie as he spoke.
‘Don’t let me forget to look in on Megan tomorrow.’ He looked at Sam, a frown wrinkling his brow as he pushed a hand through his short, dark curls. ‘There’s a storm forecast late in the day, heavy rain and gale force winds, sounds like it’s already started. I’ll make up a bed in case she wants to come here. Megan’s one of our church wardens,’ he explained to Annie. ‘She gets a bit panicked when the weather’s bad and doesn’t like to be on her own.’
Annie’s eyes widened in alarm as she tried not to worry about the impending storm. She wondered if the cottage could weather it, forgetting it had already withstood many more over the preceding years. She fretted about the state of the windows and whether the roof was strong enough to repel the rain.
‘I hate storms,’ she whispered, hardly aware she had said the words out loud. She saw Jon glance at her and she shivered, already dreading the next day and night, envisaging the howl of the trees outside and the battering of rain above her through the darkness. She’d never forgotten that first winter at boarding school when a ferocious storm had raged through the night, threatening to take the roof off the building and she’d lain awake, terrified, knowing her parents were too far away to reach her. As a little girl she’d always crept into their room when she was afraid and such comfort was beyond her then.
‘Don’t take any notice of Charlie.’ Sam shot him a cross look. ‘He’s probably been listening to the forecast for Iceland or something. It’s the middle of summer, it surely won’t be as bad as all that.’
Annie had reached her limit for the evening, worrying about the storm while trying to avoid Jon. ‘I should go.’ She stood up, replacing her empty mug on the tray, and turned to Sam. ‘Thank you for a lovely evening,’ Annie said truthfully. ‘The meal was gorgeous. Next time come to mine and I’ll cook if you like?’
‘I’d love to.’ Sam climbed to her feet and gave Annie a warm hug. ‘If you’re bothered about the storm tomorrow, come to us. We should be at home in the afternoon, at least until evensong and we’ll be back again after that.’
Annie squeezed Sam’s hand gratefully. ‘Thank you. Good night, everyone.’ She gave Charlie a friendly smile, hoping it had remained in place as she flicked her eyes over Jon.
‘I’ll drive you.’
Annie froze as Jon spoke and her reply was cool. ‘There’s no need thank you, it’s barely ten minutes’ walk. Please don’t bother.’
He ignored her and stood up, reaching into his jeans pockets
for keys. Annie could’ve kicked Sam when she voiced her cheery agreement.
‘Oh, would you, Jon? Thank you. Good night both, sleep tight.’
Charlie followed them to the front door and slipped Annie’s jacket across her shoulders. ‘Thanks for coming to see Sam, she was really looking forward to it. I hope we’ll see you again soon. Night, Jon.’
The wind whipped Annie’s hair across her face when she stepped outside, and she impatiently dragged long strands away from her eyes, shivering at the sudden cold. Jon opened the front door of a minibus parked in the drive so she could slide in and he was beside her in moments.
‘Sorry about the transport.’
She heard the amusement in his voice as the noisy engine chugged into life. Its lights illuminated the church and silent graveyard next door as he crawled loudly along the drive. ‘It’s fine,’ she assured him, trying to relax as she drew her jacket around her to keep out the cool air.
After a three-minute journey, Jon stopped the minibus next to Annie’s car in the lane outside the cottage. ‘Thanks for the lift,’ she said quickly, undoing the seatbelt and grabbing the door handle ready to escape.
‘Annie.’ She stiffened when she heard his low voice and the light pressure of his fingers on her arm. ‘Can we talk about last night?’
She shook her arm free and unlocked the door. As she climbed out, she gave him a quick glance without managing to meet his eyes in the poor light. ‘It doesn’t matter,’ she said casually. ‘I’m sure you didn’t mean anything by it.’
She heard his quiet sigh as she slammed the door and hurried up the path to the house, half expecting him to follow. But as she slipped the key into the lock, she heard the engine whine as Jon drove away, and for the second time in twenty-four hours she was confused and unsettled. Wearily she climbed the stairs to bed, the comments she’d overheard at Sarah’s party churning uneasily in her mind along with his own from last night and all Sam had unknowingly revealed earlier. She wondered whether she ought to have listened to him this evening, yet was afraid of what he might have said.
On Sunday, Annie tried to forget Charlie’s comments about the approaching storm and all day the weather strove to remind her. The sun had completely disappeared and as the day wore on, clouds spun wildly overhead as the sky gradually darkened into angry shades of black and grey. By five thirty she’d dragged some of the wood from the store outside and piled it in the fireplace over some newspapers and the soot that had been blowing onto the hearth all day. She checked and re-checked that all the windows were closed and she locked the doors, leaving her keys on the stairs where she could find them in a hurry if needed.
In her bedroom she changed into pyjamas, determined to sit it out as she listened to the drumming of the rain on the roof above. She prayed that it wouldn’t leak but the noise on the slates sounded so deafening she almost expected to discover that her mattress had become a waterbed. She ran down to the kitchen and found candles, matches and her torch and placed them on the coffee table within easy reach. She wasn’t remotely hungry, so she made a big mug of strong coffee and curled up on the sofa to read.
At nine o’clock she switched off the lamp in the sitting room and went upstairs. Staring out of her bedroom window, she was afraid to see the trees bending so easily, frightened for her car parked underneath. But there was nothing she could do, and she certainly wasn’t going outside to move it. She wondered about Megan and if she had gone to the vicarage for company. She remembered Elizabeth’s offer of company down at the farm and half wished she’d thought to go to them earlier in the day, before darkness had fallen.
She got into bed and tried to sleep, but each time she closed her eyes another huge gust of wind hurled itself at the house, branches heaving and tumbling outside. Annie sat up, her heart hammering inside her chest. It seemed pointless to stay in bed, so she pulled on thick socks and a woolly sweater over her pyjamas and went around each room in turn flicking on the lights, feeling better as she forced the darkness away.
She was in the sitting room, brushing soot from the hearth yet again when she heard a terrible crash at the back of the cottage and the unmistakeable sound of splintering glass. Annie screamed in horrified terror, certain that the old willow tree must have blown down and landed in the kitchen. She stood up shakily and forced herself to open the door and find out. The kitchen was intact but when she crept into the pantry, she could only stare in horror at the tree thrusting through a smashed window. Cold air was rushing inside, and the branches were rustling eerily against the back door, blocking it completely.
Annie tried to quell rising panic as she wondered frantically what to do next. She knew she needed to find out the extent of the damage in case the house was unsafe, and turned to find a coat, dreading having to go outside. As she returned to the sitting room, she heard a thumping noise at the front of the cottage and paused, terrified it was another calamity about to strike from the sky. Her pulse began to roar in her ears and as the wind paused for a moment, she heard the hammering noise again. She realised it was somebody banging on her front door, and she was so relieved she didn’t care who it was. She ran to the door and opened it thankfully. She was expecting Tom or even Charlie, but her heart leapt as she saw Jon standing on the step, the light from the hall revealing his worried expression. Torrential rain was pelting him furiously, plastering his dark brown hair to his head and streaming from his face onto his sodden coat.
‘Are you all right?’ he yelled above the ferocious noise, trying to shield his eyes with one hand as he looked at her through the wild darkness. ‘Annie, are you okay?’
She barely heard him, but it didn’t matter; she reached out and grabbed his arm, pulling him quickly into the warmth and comfort of the cottage. She slammed the door to the night, and there was quietness around them as the wind and rain were momentarily drowned out.
Chapter Eleven
Annie was silent as she stared at him, astonished by his unexpected presence and the sudden stillness as they stood together in the tiny hall. Jon pushed a distracted hand through his drenched hair, slicking it backwards. She noticed how the wetness had disguised the natural colour, turning it inky black, and he spoke again.
‘Are you all right?’
She heard the concern in his tone and blinked rapidly as she looked down, watching the rain from his clothes dripping onto the stone beneath his feet.
‘Not really.’ Sure he would hear the fear in her voice, she clenched her fists tightly, determined to drive it away. ‘It’s so pathetic but I’m scared of storms.’ She tried to laugh it off but relief that he was here sent her emotions lurching again and she gulped, horrified by a tiny sob catching in her throat.
‘Of course it isn’t,’ he said gently. There was little distance between them and just a step nearer would take her into his arms. But she remained still, even though for the briefest moment she thought he was going to draw her to him. Another roar of wind outside distracted them both and she shot into the sitting room, relieved to have broken away. Light blazed from each room in the cottage as he followed her, ducking beneath the beams while starting to shrug out of his wet jacket.
‘I think the willow’s come down,’ Annie said worriedly. ‘I haven’t had a chance to see how bad it is yet.’
Jon frowned as she finally looked at him. ‘I’d better go check.’ He zipped his coat up once more as he turned back to the door.
‘Be careful,’ Annie shouted nervously, afraid for him outside in the storm. She pulled the curtains aside, watching apprehensively as he returned with a torch from his car and disappeared around the side of the house. She hurried into the kitchen and switched on the Nespresso machine, reaching for the tray of capsules.
She peered through the window into the dark garden, spotting the quick flash of Jon’s torch as he moved around and wished he would hurry back into the safety of the house. She hoped fervently the damage wasn’t as bad as she expected; the willow tree was such a part of the cottage that she dreaded
the idea of losing it, even though she wasn’t too keen on having so much of it inside the house right now. She found a dustpan under the sink and squeezed into the pantry, carefully brushing up the worst of the broken glass.
Realising she was still in pyjamas, she dashed upstairs and changed back into jeans and the same sweater. She returned to the kitchen and was sliding a capsule into the Nespresso when she heard the bang of the front door. She spun around as Jon appeared once again, the rain dripping onto his face and moulding his clothes to his body.
‘It’s not too bad.’ He sounded tired but optimistic. ‘The tree’s still upright but a fairly big branch has snapped and taken most of the coalhouse roof with it. The house is okay – I don’t think the branch is going anywhere until it can be moved in the morning.’
‘Thank you.’ Annie was filled with relief that the cottage wasn’t about to collapse around her ears any moment. ‘I was expecting much worse, it sounded like a whole forest crashing on top of me.’ She found mugs, jumping uneasily when she heard the loud howl of the wind outside and the porcelain trembled between her fingers. She glanced nervously at Jon, who was still dripping water onto the stone flags. She blurted out the first thought in her head.
‘Give me your coat.’ He shrugged out of it again and Annie took it from him. The rain had driven through to his shirt, leaving damp patches on his shoulders and chest, and his dark jeans were soaked. She tried not to stare, even as she heard amusement in his voice.
‘Thanks.’ Jon reached into his pocket and dumped keys and phone on the table, the pager still on his belt. Their eyes met, and she had already forgotten the mess outside as they looked at one another.
‘I’ll bring you something to dry with.’ Annie draped his coat over a chair and pulled it beside the Rayburn. She hurried upstairs and grabbed a soft cotton towel. When she returned, he was standing by the sink, drying his hands with kitchen roll and smiled as she handed him the towel.