Even more now she needed to see someone she knew, and she homed in on Rosa and her corkscrew curls, sitting three rows from the front.
‘Rosa, how are you?’
Rosa stood and gave her a hug. ‘I’m good! I’ve spent a lovely day doing almost nothing, and now I get to hear the famed Jack Westcoat speak. I can’t get over how weird that night at his house was. I should never have come, but Octavia insisted that she couldn’t go alone, and Jonny and I caved in far too easily. Was he properly mad?’
Abby shook her head. ‘Not at all. If he had been, he would never have agreed to tonight. He is misunderstood a lot, I think. Especially after what happened at the Page Turner awards.’
‘You’ve got a soft spot for him,’ Rosa said gently. ‘How soft is it?’
‘Getting softer,’ she admitted. ‘It’s complicated, though. There’s the reserve, which I need to put more effort into, and Jack’s life, he’s … nothing’s simple, Rosa.’
‘Feelings get complicated when people try to deny them.’ She shrugged.
‘I wish that was all it was,’ Abby said, but the words resonated. If she gave into her feelings, stopped overthinking everything, would all the barriers between them dissolve into insignificance? ‘Anyway, tonight should be good. Jack Westcoat in one of his natural habitats. Have you seen him yet?’
‘He arrived about ten minutes ago and was immediately herded into the anti-chamber by Octavia.’ Rosa grinned.
‘Uh-oh. I’d better go and see what’s happening. Speaking of soft spots, Jonny was asking after you. I showed him that new Belkin range, but I’m not sure how taken he was.’
‘Oh?’ Rosa frowned. ‘That’s a good make. I wonder why he didn’t like them.’
‘Because they’re not you. Haven’t you noticed?’
‘What?’
‘Jonny is never going to buy anything from your shop because then he’d run out of excuses to see you, and that would break his heart.’ She squeezed her friend’s arm and then left her, lips parted and eyes wide, as if the wind had changed and she’d got stuck.
When Abby knocked and pushed open the door of the library’s small office, Jack was sitting in a chair with a cup of tea, and Octavia was behind the desk, calmly writing notes on a piece of paper. They both looked up when she walked in, Jack’s taut expression relaxing into a smile.
‘Hey,’ Abby said, allowing herself a moment to drink him in. He was wearing a simple grey shirt and smart, navy blazer, dark jeans that emphasized his long legs, and tan boots. His hair was slightly tamer than usual, and she wondered if he’d had it trimmed for the occasion and, if so, where he had gone to get it done.
‘Hi, Abby,’ Jack said. ‘Glad you could make it.’
‘Of course she was going to make it,’ Octavia replied. ‘She’s organized half the thing. Whizzing about on the Facebook page, leaflet-dropping the entire village, and solving my last-minute chair problem. Now Abby, I’ve written down a couple of questions in case nobody has any.’
Abby stifled a laugh. ‘I honestly don’t think that’s going to be a problem, do you?’
‘Be prepared. The scouts had that part right. Jack,’ Octavia turned to him, ‘obviously in the course of promoting an event like this, we don’t know who’s picked up on the fact that you’re here, but I haven’t seen any media types out there – large cameras, trench coats, anything like that.’
‘Me either,’ Abby added. ‘And I only promoted it on local Facebook pages.’
‘Exactly,’ Octavia continued. ‘But, of course, we can’t guarantee that it won’t have caught the attention of a wider audience.’
‘I understand that Octavia,’ Jack said. ‘I always knew there was potential for the press to pick up on it, but I appreciate you considering it too.’
‘Good.’ Octavia beamed. ‘Aren’t you a sweetie? The audience are going to eat you up!’
Jack laughed. ‘I hope not.’
‘Right then. Fifteen minutes to go. I’ll do a final round of checks, ensure the mic is working. Abby dear, could you stay here? You can be Jack’s fluffer.’
Jack choked on his tea, spraying a mouthful onto his jeans, and Abby stared at Octavia, trying to work out if she’d heard her right. Oblivious, the older woman swept out of the room, leaving an awkward silence behind her.
‘So …’ Abby said, heat rising up her neck.
Jack wiped at his trousers. ‘Do you think she knows what that means?’
‘On balance, I’d say yes.’ Abby sat next to him and gave him a sideways look. ‘I’m not doing it, though, if that’s what you’re wondering.’
‘I honestly wasn’t. God. Could you imagine?’
‘Octavia has a good heart,’ Abby said, trying very hard not to imagine it. ‘And a very individual way of doing things.’
‘She’s distracted me from my nerves, at least. And she’s been very kind to me, considering I wasn’t that hospitable when she came to track down the badger.’
‘That’s because she barged in unannounced. You were perfectly polite. Do you really get nervous?’ She turned to face him, her embarrassment fading.
‘I do. Nerves are healthy, and it’s been a long time since I did anything like this. The last time I was in a public arena was … that night, and so there’s more pressure than usual, a heavier weight on my shoulders despite it being off the beaten track.’
‘Octavia’s sold over fifty tickets. You’re a popular man, even in the sticks. What are you going to do? Read something from one of your books, talk about your writing?’
Jack nodded. ‘A bit of both. Then the Q&A, which I’m dreading.’
‘You’ll be fine,’ she said quietly.
‘I’m glad you’re here. Thank you for coming.’
‘Of course,’ Abby said, but her mind flashed back to the phone conversation she’d overheard. She should be at home, working on her event schedule, wracking her brains to come up with this game-changing membership initiative that had, so far, failed to materialize. She looked into Jack’s blue eyes, at his smooth, stubble-free jawline, and felt hopelessly conflicted.
‘Showtime!’ Octavia said, appearing in the doorway. ‘Ready, Jack?’
‘As I’ll ever be.’
He followed Octavia out of the room, Abby taking up the rear. When Jack walked into full view of the makeshift auditorium, the cheers and applause were enough to lift the roof. He raised a nonchalant hand, slightly bashful in the wake of so much attention, and took his seat at the table. Abby slipped into a chair against the wall, side on to the stage, as if she was an usher rather than a member of the audience. But she was at the front, her view was good, and she watched as Jack greeted everyone in his deep, smooth voice and then picked up the book that Octavia had placed on the table. It was a copy of his latest novel, The Fractured Path, the one Abby had ordered from Amazon and read in only a few days.
He riffled through to a spot marked by a bookmark and started reading.
The crowd was pin-drop quiet as his sonorous voice filled the room, the rhythm of the words gripping and comforting all at once. It was mesmerizing, and Abby found herself getting lost in it, able to remember the passage he’d chosen and its point in the book, wishing he would continue to the end, however long it took. She had to blink herself back into the present when he finished and the audience clapped once more.
Then he launched into a talk about the process of writing, the research he’d done, a particularly gruesome, no-holds barred visit to a morgue that made him realize he could never be a murderer himself, because he didn’t have the stomach for it. He was funny, humble and disarming. Abby could sense the audience warming to him, wanting to reach out and gather him close. It could have easily been an act, his public persona, except that it was how he was with her – or at least, was starting to be.
Abby could see that Rosa was rapt, councillor Savoury’s expression was a mixture of interest and affection, and Flick was smiling proudly. It was obvious that some people had noticed the television presenter
; that she was on the verge of getting as much attention as Jack was. His arms moved constantly while he spoke and he smiled a lot, loosening up as the talk went on. Abby felt a surge of triumph for him that only heightened her desire. When he sat down and took a sip of water, Octavia strode onto the stage, leading the exuberant applause.
‘It’s safe to say you went down a treat, Jack,’ she said, ‘and thank you for that fascinating insight into what it takes to write a book such as yours. We have got time for a few questions, so if any of you have a burning desire to ask something, then please raise your hand and I’ll bring the microphone to you.’
Dozens of hands went up, and Abby thought she saw fear flash in Jack’s eyes. She crossed her fingers in her lap.
‘Jack,’ said a loud male voice clearly not in need of a microphone. ‘What would you say to the rumours that you’re hiding out in Meadowgreen because of what happened last summer?’
‘I’d say there was some truth to that,’ Jack said calmly, ‘but that it’s also to concentrate on my current book. Sometimes a change of scenery can be beneficial for the writing process, and getting out of London for a few months is never a bad thing.’
‘Hi, Jack.’ It was a woman this time, her voice fluttering nervously. ‘I love all your books, and it’s wonderful to see you here in Suffolk.’
‘Thank you.’ Jack nodded.
‘Do you think it’s right,’ she continued, ‘that you didn’t face criminal charges after hitting Eddie Markham last year?’
Abby gasped. Jack seemed frozen for a second, and then gathered his composure. ‘That isn’t something I feel the need to fully discuss here, but I will say that I deeply regret what happened, that I have never before used violence, and will never do so again. I spoke to Eddie after the event and we settled the matter between us.’
‘Lovely,’ Octavia said hurriedly. ‘Who has a question for Jack about his books? Ah you, yes dear, you look kind.’
‘Jack,’ an older woman said, standing so she was visible above the crowd. ‘How can you continue to write, to come here and talk to us so confidently after being involved in a plagiarism scandal? Isn’t that like an athlete being found guilty of doping?’
‘I really don’t think …’ Octavia started, but Jack held a hand up, stopping her.
‘I’ll answer, thanks, Octavia.’ His voice had lost its richness, the words much more clipped. Abby winced and threw a pained look at Rosa. ‘I understand your concern,’ Jack said. ‘But firstly I’d like to emphasize that I was never accused of plagiarism myself, and the incident you speak of has been fully resolved, to the satisfaction of everyone involved. What the press does with their limited knowledge of it is beyond my control.’
‘Don’t you feel ashamed?’ called someone else. ‘Doing all that, and then punching a guy?’
‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ Octavia shouted into the microphone, causing it to shriek with feedback. ‘If you could stick to asking Jack about his books and writing, then we won’t have to finish the event early! Now, does anyone have a sensible question for him?’
Abby could see the tension in Jack’s shoulders. He was sitting forward in his chair, his jaw clenched. Why didn’t Octavia finish it now, stop the heckling?
‘Is there any truth to the rumour you slept with the journalist to get her to drop the story?’
‘What does Eddie Markham think of you now? Do you think you’ll appear in his next satire?’
‘Is it true that you and Eddie did drugs together when you were growing up?’
Jack shot a glance in Abby’s direction then looked quickly away, raking a hand through his hair, ignoring the barrage of questions as they kept coming.
‘Why have you ended up in Meadowgreen? What is it about this place?’
‘Is your career over, Jack? What will you do if nobody wants to buy your books anymore?’
People were standing, voices raised, getting out of control. It was more like a political debate than an author event in a sleepy Suffolk village, and Abby didn’t think these people really cared, or were genuinely outraged by Jack’s behaviour, they just wanted the drama. Unless they were all moles from the national press. There were definitely a lot of people she’d never seen before.
Abby flung another exasperated look at Rosa and she nodded, then stood and took the microphone from Octavia, who barely seemed to notice, her mouth open, aghast as her event disintegrated around her.
‘Hi, Jack,’ Rosa said loudly, the amplification of the mic drowning out the other voices. Everyone else stopped talking, eager to hear what she was going to ask. They were like a crowd at a hanging, Abby thought angrily.
‘Hello,’ Jack said, the relief evident in his voice.
‘I wanted to ask how being in Meadowgreen is helping to inspire your book? You said it was good to get a new perspective, and I was just wondering what difference it’s made so far?’
Abby could have hugged her, and from the look on Jack’s face, she thought he felt the same.
‘Thank you for that,’ he said. ‘The truth is, Meadowgreen has been more inspirational than I could have imagined. At first, it was simply a secluded cottage where I could focus on my novel, but it’s become so much more than that. I’m close to the Meadowsweet Nature Reserve; these stunning, natural habitats, the wildlife that’s so carefully looked after from a distance by the reserve staff.
‘Even in my worst case of writer’s block, walking in the woods helps to bring everything alive. It’s also played a pivotal role in the plot, something I can’t say much more about now, but will hopefully become clear when the book’s published later this year. And finally, perhaps most importantly, I’ve made some good friends here. As you’re all aware,’ he said, his voice becoming sharp again, ‘the last year hasn’t been without its problems, and I won’t deny that they’re of my own making, but that doesn’t make them any easier to deal with. Coming here, on my own, was wise in some respects and not in others. I have been lucky that Meadowgreen, and a few people in particular, have welcomed me, have helped me to see things more clearly and have, in some cases, changed my outlook completely.
‘In short – and I know that answer wasn’t – coming to Meadowgreen is the best thing I could have done.’ He sat back, took a sip of water and gazed around the room. Everyone was silent, a few were shamefaced, and many were gazing at him with what Abby hoped was respect.
‘Well done,’ Abby mouthed, and gave Rosa her biggest grin. Rosa gave her a subtle thumbs-up in return.
‘Well, ladies and gentlemen, wasn’t that wonderful?’ Octavia said, recovering her voice and taking the mic back from Rosa. ‘Thank you all for coming. If you have any books you’d like to get signed, then please form a queue in front of the table, and Jack will be more than happy to oblige.’ Octavia bustled up to the front, placed a chair alongside him as he seated himself behind the table, handed him a Sharpie and sat next to him.
Abby felt a flush of gratitude for her neighbour for acting as a bodyguard. While people slowly formed a queue, or pulled on coats and made their way to the exit, Abby raced over to Rosa and flung her arms around her. She smelt of peonies.
‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘Thank you for rescuing him! I was trying to think of something to ask but my mind went blank.’
‘That was a harsh crowd,’ Rosa huffed. ‘I couldn’t believe some of the things they asked him.’
‘It was like a feeding frenzy. I wonder if Octavia and I should have thought about it more carefully.’
‘Jack agreed to do it,’ Rosa said. ‘He probably wasn’t under any illusions as to what might happen – I expect he had a better idea than you. And he did so well, he’s still alive and, I think we can safely say, came out on top at the end.’
‘Thanks to your brilliant question.’
‘Thanks to his wonderful answer,’ Rosa corrected. ‘I can see why you have a soft spot for him. Do you really think Jonny likes me? I’ve only ever exchanged a few words with him. Lots of times, obviously, because he’s t
here so often, but … pretty much the same dozen words.’
‘Of course he likes you,’ Abby said. ‘I don’t know why I didn’t see it before. What are you going to do?’
Rosa chewed her lip. ‘I don’t know. I do like him but – I’d never considered him as more than just a visitor, with his own life and an acute interest in binoculars. I don’t know anything about him.’
‘That’s easily remedied,’ Abby said. ‘If you want it to be.’
Rosa nodded. ‘Anyway, I’d best be off. See you tomorrow?’
‘Sure. I’m going to …’ She pointed in the direction of the stage.
Rosa grinned. ‘He could probably do with a hug after all that, and Octavia might be too overpowering.’
‘Oh, well then,’ Abby said, returning her friend’s smile, hoping Flick Hunter hadn’t got in there first. ‘It must be my turn to rescue him.’
Chapter Three
Sometimes one species of bird will mob another, which means they’ll fly at them and sound their alarm call, because they feel threatened by them. Smaller birds in a big group will often attack a single, larger bird – crows often mob birds of prey, such as marsh harriers or buzzards. This can be upsetting to see, but unfortunately not everything in nature is cute and fluffy.
— Note from Abby’s notebook.
Jack and Abby sat side by side on Octavia’s red leather sofa, in a living room that was a clash of colours, bright but slightly chaotic, very like its owner. While her house was next door to Abby’s, it was also twice the size. When Abby had first moved to the area, Octavia had told her the long, complicated story about how – over twenty-five years ago, when the price of builders wasn’t through the roof – she and her husband had bought two neighbouring houses and turned them into one.
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