by Paula Martin
He nodded. “Okay, that’s a good policy.”
“You’ve changed your tune,” Nathan scoffed. “Thought you were all for the tourists and to hell with the locals.”
Jack turned back to him. “Isn’t tourism a way of protecting the local population, Nathan?”
“At the expense of preserving our historical buildings? The gatehouse would have fallen down by now if it hadn’t been for the efforts of my mother and a lot of people here. The funding was withdrawn because of your article. How are you going to explain that?”
Jack hadn’t expected to be put on the spot, but he glanced around at the expectant faces in the bar.
“Yeah, Jack,” Nathan’s mate, Gordon, challenged him. “What’s your explanation?”
* * * * *
Abbey was well aware Nathan Garside was being deliberately provocative. For as long as she could remember, he’d been a pompous ass who sneered at everyone simply because they weren’t as rich or influential as his own family.
She watched Jack take another mouthful of his beer, and held her breath. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, compressed his lips, and fixed Nathan with an impassive stare. She suppressed a smile. It was the mannerism she remembered well. Jack, calm and deliberate in the face of provocation, was considering his answer carefully.
When he spoke again, his voice was measured and even. “What exactly are you asking me to explain? Why I wrote the article? Was I aiming to get the gatehouse funding withdrawn? What are my views about preserving Lakeland’s heritage? Do I consider tourists to be more important than locals? Or vice versa? Tell me what you want me to explain, and I’ll do my best to give you an answer.”
“Oh, stop splitting hairs,” Nathan sneered. “We all know the problems your damned article caused.”
A woman’s voice broke in. “Those problems gave people here the opportunity to work together in a way they hadn’t done for years.”
Abbey, and everyone else, turned to Jeannie.
The older woman went on, “Which all goes to show that good can come out of what appears to be a disaster at the time. I think that’s what we should all remember, and not cross-examine Jack about something which happened a long time ago. Come on, folks, we’ve had an enjoyable evening so far. Let’s not spoil everything now with petty squabbles.”
Abbey leaned to whisper in Sally’s ear. “Your Mum always was the peacemaker when she and your Dad ran the pub.”
Sally nodded. “She’s the family peacemaker, too. Sees every side to a problem.”
“I still want an answer,” Nathan persisted.
Mike stepped forward. “You heard what Jeannie said, Nathan. End it now, unless you want me to tell you to leave.”
Nathan turned sulkily back to his companion and muttered something. Abbey guessed it was probably a derogatory comment about Jack.
As the crowd around the bar began to disperse, she and Sally took their drinks to one of the tables at the side of the lounge.
“Your Mum was right,” she said. “About people here working together, I mean. I’d never thought about that.”
Sally grinned. “So should people here be thanking Jack, instead of criticising him?”
Abbey sipped her wine thoughtfully. Jack was still standing by the bar talking to Mike, and she wondered what he would have gone on to say if Jeannie hadn’t intervened.
Turning to Sally again, she went on, “The other night, he said when he wrote the article, he believed more money needed to be poured into tourism.”
“When he wrote it? Does he not think the same now?”
“I don’t know. I said there should be a balance between tourists and local interests, and he agreed.”
“Wonder why he’s changed his mind?” Sally glanced toward the bar. “Oh, seems you’ll have a chance to ask him. He and Mike are coming across here now.”
Abbey followed her glance to where Mike was saying something to Jack. As she tightened one hand around the other in involuntary tension, she couldn’t decide whether she wanted Jack to join them, or if she was dreading him doing that. She soon had her answer. Jack shook his head, downed the rest of his drink, and raised his hand in a farewell gesture to Mike. Disappointment trickled through her as she watched him leave the pub.
So be it, he didn’t want to talk to her. Not that she could blame him. First their spat on the valley road, followed by her deliberate coolness earlier in the evening. Those few moments when their eyes had met during Alan’s speech had brought back memories of their close friendship, but that friendship no longer existed.
Anxious to divert the conversation away from Jack, she turned to Sally again. “Where’s Sam? Have he and his friends gone off somewhere?”
“They’re in the games room with the CD player on full blast. Good job it’s in the old stable block across the yard otherwise we’d all be deafened by now.”
Mike sat down beside Sally, and their conversation continued on a general level, with no mention of the earlier argument.
At the end of the evening, Abbey walked through the village with Jeannie, who had lived in another of the houses at Eagle Croft ever since she and Alan retired to let Mike and Sally manage the pub.
“Don’t know what it is about that Nathan Garside,” Jeannie said. “He always seems to go out of his way to provoke people.”
Abbey nodded. “He’s done that for as long as I’ve known him.”
“But he’s canny. He never went far enough for Alan to bar him from the pub. Or Mike, either.”
“His mother was sure Mike would bar Jack,” Abbey said, thinking back to Dolly Garside’s comment in the shop the previous week. She turned curiously to the older woman. “Jeannie, were you trying to keep the peace tonight, or did you mean it about something good coming out of what seemed to be bad?”
“I meant it, because it’s true.”
“And yet you were as incensed as everyone when Jack’s article first appeared.”
“Aye, we were all angry at the time, because it seemed to be a direct attack on the village. If he’d written about this area being dependent on the tourist trade, no one would have argued with him, but he made a specific reference to spending money on—what did he call it? A heap of old stones? And he must have known the parish council had applied for funds to restore the gatehouse. That’s why we were all riled up, and even more so when the application was refused.”
“What about now?” Abbey asked.
“Sometimes you have to let go of the past and move on.”
“And you think most people feel the same?”
Jeannie laughed. “I’m sure Dolly doesn’t, and there are others who won’t forgive him.”
“You mean my mum?”
“Your mum knew Jack had hurt you badly, and she was angry with him. Mums don’t like seeing their kids getting hurt, you know. All the business over the gatehouse gave her an outlet to vent her anger.”
Abbey raised surprised eyebrows. “I never thought of that.” She gave a short laugh. “And this is the second time tonight that you’ve said something I hadn’t thought about before.”
“Oh?”
“Yes, when you talked about people working together. You were right. The whole village joined in with all the fundraising activities.”
Jeannie laughed. “We didn’t have much option with Dolly Garside organising us all.” They paused when they reached Eagle Croft, and she patted Abbey’s arm. “Remember, Abbey, when you find a way to let go of the past, it ceases to have the power to hurt you.”
Abbey gave her a weak smile. “Okay, I’ll remember. ’Night, Jeannie.”
She continued home, and sat for a long time at the kitchen table, her hands wrapped around a mug of hot chocolate. The evening’s events crowded into her mind, but she couldn’t clarify her thoughts or sort out her confused feelings. All she knew was that they centred on Jack. Eventually, with a deep sigh, she stood up. There was no point going around in circles any longer. She’d think about it tomorrow.
Jeannie’s words came back to her: All the business over the gatehouse gave her an outlet to vent her anger. Her anger with Jack. Not solely because of the article, but because he’d hurt one of her children. She needed to tread very carefully with her mother as far as Jack was concerned.
During the morning, as she helped with some spring-cleaning, she couldn’t stop thinking about Tuesday’s meeting. Before then, she needed to work out how to act naturally with Jack instead of allowing her personal feelings to affect her behaviour, like they did the previous evening. She couldn’t even recall thanking him or offering to help him tidy the barn. He must think her churlish and ungrateful.
On an impulse, she picked up her phone. She didn’t have his mobile number but she remembered the landline number for Fir Garth. How many thousands of times had she rung that number in her teens?
After her mother went out into the back garden to hang out newly washed curtains, she hit the numbers quickly. When the familiar voice said, “Jack Tremayne here,” a flurry of nervousness assailed her, and she wished she’d worked out beforehand what she was going to say.
“Jack, hi, it’s Abbey. I—erm—I’m calling to say I’m very grateful for your offer of the barn for the drama club. You took me by surprise last night, and I don’t think I even thanked you.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’m glad I could suggest somewhere for you to meet. I called Tom Williams this morning to say other groups can use the barn if they wish.” Jack gave a quick laugh. “Assuming I can clear out the junk that’s accumulated. I hadn’t realised how much there was until I checked earlier. I’m about to start clearing it now.”
“I could come and help you, if you want.”
The words were out before she thought about them, and she surprised even herself.
“Aren’t you at the shop today?”
“No, we don’t open on Sundays until the main tourist season starts at Easter.”
“Okay. I’d appreciate another pair of hands, if you’re free.”
“I’ll come over in about twenty minutes.”
“Thanks. See you later, Abbey.”
As she clicked off her phone, Abbey drew in a deep breath and crossed to the back door.
“Want a cup of tea?” she called.
“You’ve read my mind,” Edwina said as she came back into the kitchen.
Abbey switched on the kettle and steadied herself. “Mum, there’s something I need to tell you.”
“What’s that?” Edwina sounded unconcerned as she pulled a couple of china mugs from the dishwasher.
“The thing is—well, I didn’t want you to hear this from anyone else.”
“Come on, Abbey, you’re reminding me of when you were about twelve and eventually confessed to breaking a Mrs. Tiggywinkle plate. What have you broken this time?”
“Nothing.” Abbey concentrated on putting teabags into the teapot and her words came out in a rush. “Jack’s offered us the use of the barn at Fir Garth for the drama club, and he’s coming to talk to the kids, too.”
Edwina’s eyes narrowed. “When was all this arranged?”
“Actually, it was Sam who invited him.” Abbey went on to tell her mother what had happened.
“And you agreed?”
“I didn’t have much option. It’s not as if I’ve found any other place where we can meet, and Sam was so excited about Jack’s ideas.”
“Have you forgiven him?” Edwina said as they sat down at the kitchen table.
“No, but I think we need a sort of armed truce. I—erm—I’ve agreed to go up and help him clear the barn.”
Her mother’s green eyes studied her. “He broke your heart once, Abbey. Don’t let him do it again.”
She gave her mother what she hoped was a reassuring smile. “I’m not a teenager now, Mum. Don’t worry, I can handle this okay.”
No way was she going to mention the frisson of excitement that zinged through her at the thought of seeing him again. That was something her mother didn’t need to know.
CHAPTER 7
Abbey gave herself a good talking-to as she walked up the lane to Fir Garth. She didn’t have two days to adjust to being with Jack again. She had to do it right here and now. Forget what happened in the past, ignore the jumpy feelings inside her, and pretend he was a casual acquaintance.
It worked until she reached the house. She turned in through the gateway just as he came out of the barn, carrying a pile of boxes.
The sight of his strong body, in jeans and a blue polo shirt, created an odd, tugging sensation in the pit of her stomach. Broad shoulders, wide chest, firm tanned arms, slim waist and hips, and—Quickly she averted her eyes from the lower part of his body.
“Hi,” he called. “Let me find someplace to dump these, and I’ll join you in the barn.”
He continued into the house, and Abbey tried to calm herself as she walked past the front of the house to the stone barn. When she went in, a kaleidoscope of memories crowded into her mind. The eight or nine teenagers in their friendship circle had met here frequently, talking and discussing everything from world events to local gossip, listening to their favourite pop music, fooling around, laughing and joking. How wonderfully simple life had been at that time.
“Thanks for coming,” Jack said behind her.
She turned. “It’s the least I could do. I see what you mean about all the junk.” She surveyed the boxes and other paraphernalia that covered half the barn floor. If they concentrated on the practicalities, she might be able to ignore the way all her senses seemed to be on fire. “What is all this stuff?”
“Everything my parents cleared out of the house when they decided to rent it out. Books, ornaments, and whatever else they didn’t want to take to France.”
“Where are you putting it all?”
“The more valuable things will go into the house, the rest I’ll put in the garage.”
“Okay, what do you want me to do?”
“The boxes with Dad’s old law books are probably too heavy for you to carry,” Jack replied. “They’re all hefty tomes, but some boxes in that corner aren’t labelled. Can you find out what’s in them?”
“Will do.”
As he went back and forth with the boxes of books, she opened the ones he’d indicated. Several were full of old videotapes and CDs. Others had table and bed linen, towels and bathroom items, and one contained Christmas decorations.
When she found a stack of photo albums, she flicked one open. The first few pages were photos of Jack’s parents on holiday. Ireland, she guessed by some of the scenic shots. As she flipped over another page, she stopped at a photo of Jack and herself, taken on the day they decided to prune one of the apple trees behind the house.
He was balancing in the tree and she was laughing as she reached up to hold a long branch while he sawed it. More photos followed. Mr. Tremayne had taken several while they worked, and the final one showed them both standing in front of the neatly pruned tree. Jack’s arm was around her shoulders, and hers was wrapped around his waist. We were such innocents, she thought wryly.
“What’ve you found?”
His voice broke into her thoughts, and she smiled. “Old photos. Some your dad took the day we pruned the apple tree.”
He gave the same grin she’d seen in the photos as he crossed the barn toward her. “You were convinced I was going to fall out of the tree.”
“You almost did at one point. Remember when you tried to hold onto a branch that snapped? You looked like—” She broke off with a giggle.
“Like what?”
Still laughing, she went on, “Like one of those cartoon films where a crazy character sways backwards and forwards trying to keep it
s balance.”
“Yeah, but in cartoons, the characters usually go splat on the ground. At least I didn’t do that.”
“If you had, do you think your Dad would have rushed to help you, or carried on taking photos?”
Jack laughed. “Oh, he’d have taken a series of action shots. How my son fell out of the apple tree. Anyway, I need a break.” He held out a can. “Fancy a lager?”
She put the album back in the box and took the can from him. “Thanks.”
“Come on, let’s go and sit outside.”
She followed him to a wrought iron bench at the far side of the lawn. Pale sunshine filtered through the tall conifer trees and created flickering patterns on the grass. Birds chirped and trilled, and in the distance the frantic high-pitched bleating of a lamb was answered by the deeper cry from its mother.
In the last few minutes, it seemed as if she’d stepped into the past, talking and laughing with her best friend, the boy with whom she’d always been so much at ease. Today was the first time since his return to Rusthwaite that she actually felt relaxed with him.
“It’s been a good few years since we last sat here, hasn’t it?” he said.
“A lifetime.”
“So let’s talk.”
“What about?”
He gave her a lazy smile that threatened to demolish her new-found composure. “I don’t know where we start. Do you?”
She took another mouthful of her lager. “Not really.”
“What would you have been doing today if you hadn’t come up here?”
“I didn’t have anything planned, but I might have gone for a run in the forest this afternoon now the weather’s dried up.”
“Do you often do that?”
Obviously he was keeping to small talk. She could go along with that. It was easier than talking about the things that mattered. “Yes, when I have time, and when it’s not raining. In London, I go to the gym each morning, but up here the only gyms are at the big hotels, and they charge the earth for non-residents to use the facilities.”
Jack gave her an amused smile. “Is this where we discuss whether tourists are more important than local people?”