Her eyes are gleaming with excitement. ‘So I’ve decided it’s time to sell the cottage in the woods and plough the money into renovating Rushbrooke House, with the aim of taking in paying guests to keep our heads above water!’
There’s a stunned silence from everyone except Selena, who seems to be taking it all in her stride. Then everyone is talking at once, and Prue is telling Jack that the best thing about it is that he can give up his daily London commute and start making furniture instead.
‘Obviously, I can’t do it all on my own. I need a project manager,’ Prue says with a secretive smile. ‘And dear Selena, with her huge talent for interior design, is the perfect person for the job!’ I stare in shock, as my stomach falls down a lift shaft. ‘Thank you, Selena, for agreeing to come on board!’
Everyone clinks glasses and I try to join in. Even Layla seems to think it’s a great idea that Selena will be masterminding the project for Prue.
My cheeks ache with trying to look pleased. I feel like exposing the witch as a total fraud but I can’t do that to Prue. She might well be great at the job she does – and who am I to stamp on Prue’s excitement?
We sit down to dinner and I’m trying not to look at the way a triumphant Selena is clinging like a limpet to Jack. She winds herself around him and stays pretty much glued to his side for the entire meal, even swapping places with Layla so she can fondle his thigh under the table and stare up at him adoringly at every possible opportunity.
I can’t help noticing that Jack takes it all in his stride and doesn’t resist in the slightest.
Prue has made a hearty beef stew with a lovely rich gravy, but bits of meat keep getting stuck in my throat. Try as I might, I’m finding it impossible to look upbeat sitting opposite the pair of them.
Jack’s warm reception when I arrived raised my hopes to the sky. But now, watching Selena kiss him on the cheek, I’m sliding down into a horrible pit of despair. I might be mistaken, but Jack seems to be avoiding my eye now.
Several times, I catch Layla watching me. At one point, she does a sneaky fingers-down-the-throat gesture, aimed at Selena, which makes me feel slightly better.
But not much.
The plain fact is, Selena is never going to let go of him and Jack isn’t exactly complaining.
And that leaves me precisely nowhere.
A huge lump lodges in my throat and I have to fight really hard to stop the tears from springing up. Luckily, Layla is telling everyone about being short-listed in the short story competition and they’re all turning their delighted attention on her. Only Jack catches me sneaking out my hanky. I turn away and dab my nose, pretending I’ve got a sniffle.
I decide that as soon as the dinner is over, I’ll make my excuses and leave.
But in the meantime, I can’t stand to watch Selena claiming ownership of Jack – and pretty much the whole Rushbrooke family, now that she’ll be working so closely with them all. I excuse myself and escape to the loo.
Dropping the lid, I sit down gingerly, my head in my hands. I really shouldn’t have had that champagne because the alcohol is making me even more emotional than I otherwise would be.
What a bloody mess!
When I emerge a few minutes later, Jack is standing in the hallway, examining the label on a bottle of wine.
‘I’ve been meaning to thank you,’ I burst out.
‘Thank me?’
‘For fixing Ivy’s love seat.’ I smile. ‘I’m assuming that was you.’
He nods. ‘It was a pleasure to do it. For you.’
I swallow hard, my knees trembling at the tender way Jack is looking at me. If he keeps it up, my already shaky composure is in danger of dissolving completely. ‘Well, thank you. I really appreciate it.’
‘Are you okay?’ he asks gently, and I manage a watery smile.
‘Fine, thanks. I’m – er – just feeling a bit weird at the thought of going back to Manchester. You know, selling Moonbeam Cottage. Leaving Appleton for good.’
He nods, glancing down at his feet. Then he looks up, an intense gleam in his eyes. ‘I’ll really miss you.’
My heart does a gigantic leap of joy and I stare at him wordlessly, my head in a spin. He’ll really miss me?
He smiles into my eyes and I long to reach up on tip-toe, loop my hands round his neck and kiss him; feel his skin, the silkiness of his hair and his mouth against mine – and show him exactly how much I’m going to miss him. I want this desperately, with every fibre of my being, More than I’ve ever wanted anything before in my life.
But there’s Selena.
A chill descends on me. It’s as if the September sun has been eclipsed, even though I can see it through the window, shining in a sky the colour of the forget-me-nots I planted the other week with Layla.
I almost smile at the irony.
Forget-me-not.
I’ve grown so close to Layla and Prue and Connie – and Jack – but once I’ve gone back to Manchester, I can’t guarantee they won’t forget me.
How long will it be before I’m just a pleasant but faded memory to them all?
‘Look, I know you’re set on going,’ Jack says brusquely. ‘But are you sure I can’t tempt you to stay?’ His whole demeanour has changed. The intensity of his eyes searching my face makes my heart leap with longing.
I stare up at him, my heart beating wildly, then suddenly his mouth is on mine and we’re kissing with such savage passion, I feel like I’m floating a foot above the ground. I stumble back against the wall, feeling the urgent weight of him against me, all rational thought flying out of my head.
Being so close to Jack is everything I ever thought it would be – and more – and my head spins like a fairground ride, as all kinds of feelings course through me.
Then just as suddenly as we crashed together, Jack breaks free, gasping and putting me away from him, gripping my arms so tightly, I wince.
‘Sorry. I can’t—’ He lets go of me and steps back, running a hand through his hair, his blue eyes a shade darker, his face etched with anguish.
‘I know you can’t,’ I whisper.
He’s thinking of Selena.
I picture her slender beauty. How could I ever measure up by comparison? And now that she’ll be helping Prue with the B&B project, she’s almost part of the family already … It would be truly unbearable for me to stay on in Appleton, with Jack so far beyond my reach.
I swallow hard, fighting back the tears. ‘Good try at convincing me,’ I quip, attempting a smile. ‘But my mind is made up. I’m going back to Manchester.’
‘Layla will be heartbroken.’ His smile is strained. ‘Although naturally, she’ll pretend she isn’t. And Mum credits you with turning her life around. I don’t know what you said to her in Ivy Garden that time but it made a real difference.’
‘She just needed to get her confidence back. Start believing in herself again. It was Ivy Garden that worked the magic, not me.’
He looks at me so affectionately that perversely, I feel like screaming with frustration. I need to leave Appleton as soon as possible because the thought of staying here, drowning in unrequited love, forever hoping, is totally unthinkable.
I love Jack with every ounce of my being, but he isn’t free to love me back.
My mind really is made up. I’ll contact the estate agent in the morning.
Then I’ll head back to Manchester on the next available train …
THIRTY-SIX
It’s been a strange few days.
By the time I got back from Prue’s dinner celebrations, I’d already made my plans. It was time I left Appleton because nothing good could come of me staying on here any longer. But the thought of saying goodbye to everyone filled me with dread. The only solution, I decided, was to slip away quietly without telling anyone. It was probably the coward’s way out, but in my fragile state of mind, I wasn’t sure I could cope with leaving any other way.
I would phone Connie when I got back to Manchester and explain everything. Perhaps she would
even come and visit me in the city some time. And I’d be in touch with Layla, too. I’d really miss her and I wanted to keep in touch to find out how she’d fared in the writing competition.
I told Prue that, regretfully, my work on the cottage was taking up so much time, I wouldn’t be able to do any more gardening for her at the moment. She was perfectly fine about it, saying that with the renovations she had planned, the whole place was going to be a mess for months on end anyway.
I’d done one last weeding session for her, and as I was leaving, she looked at me fondly, gave me a big hug and said, ‘Please don’t be a stranger, Holly.’ She then made me promise to pop over for tea the following week, and not knowing what else to say, I agreed. I felt terrible, knowing that by then I’d be settled back into my life in Manchester.
As I walked back through the woods, I felt choked. I’d grown so fond of Prue over the last few months. Having made the decision to leave, I was realising just how many lovely friends and acquaintances I’d made in the short time I’d been there. I’d been dreading spending time here, all alone, and had regarded it as something of a nightmare. But it hadn’t turned out like that at all.
Even the open countryside doesn’t hold the fear it once did.
Thanks to unburdening myself to Connie that time, and my therapeutic walks out into the countryside, I’ve slowly grown accustomed to the wide open spaces. Instead of allowing the bad associations to envelop me, I’ve learned to focus on the hedgerow scents, the gentle sound of the sheep and the good feeling of exercising in the fresh air.
There’s so much I’ll miss about the countryside when I leave. Moonbeam Cottage. The golden silence of a hot summer’s day in Ivy Garden. Colin the cockerel’s regular early morning rehearsals. (Yes, even him.) And the way the stars seem so close at night, you feel you could almost reach up and touch them.
And I’ll miss the people most of all. Especially Jack.
My heart twists painfully.
But Jack, of course, is the reason I can’t bear to stay …
I board the local bus with a heavy heart.
As we drive slowly through the village and out into the open country, the lump in my throat feels as big as a golf ball.
But by the time we arrive in Stroud what seems like hours later, after meandering through so many Cotswold villages I’ve lost count, I’m starting to think rather fondly of the quick and efficient public transport services in Manchester.
It will be good to get home.
At the station, I buy myself a magazine and settle myself on a bench to while away the twenty minutes till my train arrives.
Moonbeam Cottage is now in the hands of a cheery local estate agent. She smiled and said she doubted it would be on the market for long because properties like this one were snapped up before you could say, Location, location, location! I tried to look delighted but it was hard.
So now all I have to do is wait for her phone call telling me I’ve received an offer on the cottage. I’m trying not to think about how I’ll feel when that happens.
I’m so deep in thought, at first I fail to notice someone waving at me from the road on the other side of the fence and shouting my name.
When I finally glance up, my mouth falls open in amazement.
It’s Layla, holding a helmet, astride a motorbike being driven by Tom! To my astonishment, the angular, black and blonde look has gone and her hair is now a lovely gleaming dark brown. All over.
She slides off the bike and runs over to the platform entrance, where I join her. ‘I can’t believe you were going to sneak off without telling us!’ she says. ‘What’s going on?’
I smile sheepishly. ‘Sorry. I felt really bad. But I couldn’t bear having to say goodbye to everyone.’
‘By “everyone”, you don’t really mean everyone, do you?’
‘Er, well …’
‘Some people you’ll miss more than others,’ she says cryptically. ‘And someone you’ll miss most of all?’
I laugh uncertainly. Does she mean Jack? How did she know …?
‘I’m not daft,’ she points out calmly.
‘You’re definitely not that. And yes, you’re absolutely right. There is someone I’ll miss desperately.’ I grin. ‘How on earth will I cope without dear Selena in my life?’
We both snort with laughter.
‘So will you miss me?’ she says off-handedly, as if she doesn’t really care about the answer.
I smile fondly at her, eyes suddenly blurry with tears. ‘What do you think?’
She laughs. ‘I think you probably can’t wait to see the back of me and my smart comments. Correct?’
‘Amazingly, no.’
We smile a little awkwardly at each other.
‘Oh, bugger. Come here,’ I say, reaching out to her and drawing her into a huge hug. Her hair smells of fresh air and lavender, and the rich colour really suits her. I swallow hard on the big lump in my throat, knowing I’ll miss her so much.
Her own cheek feels suspiciously wet.
‘So. You and Tom, eh?’ I tease when we draw apart. ‘I thought he was too geeky for words?’
She gives a wicked smile. ‘You’d be surprised. Apparently you can be a bit of a geek but really sexy at the same time.’
I pretend to look shocked.
‘But don’t tell Mum I said that,’ she warns. ‘And absolutely don’t tell her about the bike. She’d have a hairy fit if she knew.’
I laugh. ‘You’ll have to tell her some time.’
‘I will. She keeps saying we need to talk more. So I’ll start educating her about motorbikes!’
She glances over at Tom and he waves at us.
‘Right, I’d better go. Have a safe journey and please stay in touch!’
‘I will. And keep writing! Keep me posted about the short story competition.’
She darts back to Tom, dons her helmet and climbs on the back of the bike.
As they ride off, she’s making a frantic ‘phone me’ signal …
THIRTY-SEVEN
‘She sounds like a right cow!’ says Vicki, plonking her wine glass on the side table.
It’s a girls’ night in at my place and I’ve had enough to drink to start really opening up about my time in Appleton.
Beth grins. ‘An evil bastard cow, you mean!’
We all explode with laughter.
Vicki and Beth are truly the best thing about being back home.
I’ve missed them both so much; the daft banter, the laughter, the support. In that sense, I’ve slipped right back into my cosy life in Manchester, as if I’ve never been away. They spotted almost immediately that I was hugging a secret – and it didn’t take them long to wheedle it out of me because girls just seem to know when their best friends are in love. They laughed their socks off when I told them about Sylvian’s tantric meditation and were gobsmacked when they heard about him wanting me to join his love nest down in Cornwall.
On the subject of Jack, they agreed wholeheartedly. They thought he sounded gorgeous.
‘But what I don’t understand is why Jack’s with that evil bastard cow, Helena,’ says Beth as she and Vicki stumble down the stairs to their waiting taxi. ‘You’re a thousand times nicer.’
‘It’s Selena,’ I call after her, laughing.
‘Never mind,’ shouts Vicki, her voice growing distant. ‘We’ll find you a man. Pub. Friday night. Take care, love.’
I close the door and wander through to the living room, still smiling.
As I clear away glasses and stack the dishwasher, I try not to think about Jack, but of course it’s impossible.
It’s mid-November now, more than two months since I left Appleton. At first, I was full of resolve, determined to plunge right back into my old life. I’d go back to work at the café but I’d start looking at the possibility of going to art college, once Moonbeam Cottage was sold.
And I’ve tried. I really have. I spent a whole Sunday online looking at colleges and trying to decide what would b
e best. Should I try to stay local? Or should I have an adventure and move away somewhere completely different; start a whole new chapter? I have no ties any more, so the world is, as everyone says, my oyster.
Then I realised that the college I kept going back to – the one that made my heart beat a little bit faster – was so close to Appleton, it was laughable. I abandoned the search at that point. I was clearly in no fit state to make important decisions about my future when my subconscious was hell bent on pushing me towards Jack!
I climb into bed and settle back against the pillows.
I miss my life in Appleton.
There, I’ve finally admitted it.
I miss Connie. I miss Layla. I miss Moonbeam Cottage and hopping over the road to Ivy Garden. I miss the stars at night and the barnyard smells and the clean air. And if I had to choose between Colin the Cockerel and the crashing of a bin lorry as my alarm clock, I’d pick Colin every time.
I even think wistfully of Prue. She was so excited about her plans for the B&B, and I find myself longing to know how the renovations are going at Rushbrooke House. It’s hard to think of Selena being there, right at the centre of things, while I’m here, hundreds of miles away.
I’ve spoken to Connie and Layla on the phone and they keep trying to persuade me to go down for a visit. Connie says I can stay in the flat above the deli-cafe any time I’m in the Cotswolds and I know she means it. But the truth is, I’m scared to go back. I’m afraid I might get down there and find myself tempted to stay. But that would be impossible. Being so near to Jack, and yet so far, would be pure torture.
I need to move on, not remain stuck in the past, dreaming and hoping. I learned that lesson the hard way, getting all caught up in a sentimental, yet ultimately fruitless search for Ivy’s secret lover, in the vain hope I might be part of a family again.
When I look back at my search for Bee, with an enthusiastic Layla at my side urging me on, it’s with an odd sort of wistfulness. Of course I’m gutted that we never got to the bottom of the mystery. But Layla and I were a team, and I will always remember those times with affection.
Ivy’s diary is now in my bedside cabinet and I still think about the night of her dinner party all the time, wondering …
The Secrets of Ivy Garden Page 28