Rules for a Successful Book Club (The Book Lovers 2)

by Victoria Connelly

  ‘You think?’ Bryony said, tutting. ‘What am I going to do?’

  ‘Eat it?’

  Bryony sighed. ‘I mean about Colin.’

  ‘Tell him you’re on a diet?’ Polly couldn’t help giggling.

  ‘I love how you can laugh at my misfortune.’

  ‘Being the centre of attention of a cute and talented baker isn’t exactly a misfortune, is it?’ Polly said.

  Bryony’s whole body seemed to sag.

  ‘If you’re not interested in him, you shouldn’t be seeing him at all. You should tell him how you really feel,’ Polly said, ‘and sooner rather than later. It’s cruel to keep him hoping. And baking.’

  ‘I know,’ Bryony said. ‘I just haven’t got the heart.’

  ‘Yes you have,’ Polly said, pushing the box towards her.

  ‘Very funny.’

  ‘Seriously, if you know he’s not for you, it’s mean to keep him dangling.’

  ‘But how do I know if he’s not for me? It’s an age since I had a proper relationship. I’ve forgotten what it’s all about.’

  ‘Then go out with him.’

  Bryony screwed up her mouth. ‘I’m not sure.’

  ‘Then go out with somebody else,’ Polly told her. ‘You know, I saw Jago last night? The guy who lives opposite?. He’s going to give Archie guitar lessons.’

  ‘That’s great,’ Bryony said.

  ‘I hope so,’ she said. ‘I don’t want him taking on too much, but he really seems to like this Jago and–’ Polly stopped.

  ‘What?’

  Polly took a deep breath. ‘I’m just aware that he hasn’t got a male role model. I mean, there’s Sam and Josh and they’re great, but they’ve got their own lives. And Archie really seems to look up to Jago.’

  ‘You’re thinking of Jago as a father figure?’ Bryony said, surprise in her voice.

  ‘No!’ Polly cried in horror. ‘Just as a good male – man – role thing,’ she said.

  ‘A male, man, role thing,’ Bryony repeated. ‘I’m sure he’d be very flattered to hear that.’

  ‘You know what I mean,’ she said. ‘Anyway, I could put in a good word for you with Jago.’

  Polly had Bryony’s full attention now. ‘Tell me about him again.’

  ‘Well,’ Polly said, straightening a pile of books on the counter. ‘He’s tall. He’s very tall. Too tall for Suffolk. He has to duck to get into our house.’

  ‘I could go for tall,’ Bryony said.

  ‘He’s got dark blond hair which is kind of messy in that way creative types have – as if they’ve got more to think about than their personal appearance.’

  ‘Messy can be good,’ Bryony said.

  ‘And he’s – well – he’s really sweet with Archie,’ Polly said with a smile, ‘and that’s probably the best thing I can say about anyone.’

  Bryony narrowed her eyes at her sister. ‘Are you sure you haven’t got a thing for this guy yourself?’

  ‘Of course I haven’t,’ Polly snapped.

  ‘Because you sound sweet on him.’

  ‘I am not sweet on him. I’m simply listing his attributes to my sister in the hope of making her a good match.’

  Polly picked up an armful of books and took them to the shelves.

  ‘How old is he?’ Bryony asked.

  ‘He told me he spent a year in America after graduating so that would make him about twenty-two, I think. Is that too young for you?’

  ‘It’s only six years younger than me,’ Bryony pointed out. ‘If he’s mature, it shouldn’t matter. Is he?’

  ‘He seems sensible enough,’ Polly said, finding homes for all of the books and turning her attention to plumping up the baby beanbags.

  ‘And you’re sure you’re not – you know – interested yourself?’

  Polly turned and glared at her sister. ‘I really wish you’d stop–’

  ‘Sorry!’ Bryony said. ‘I just want to make absolutely sure before I fall head over heels.’ She reached up to the top shelf and took down a book and examined it as if she’d never seen it before. ‘It would be nice, wouldn’t it?’

  Polly watched her sister for a moment. Today, she was wearing a long skirt in silver and purple and a purple velvet blouse and a long string of amber beads. Yet, for all her vibrant colour, there was a sadness that was never far from her.

  ‘You miss him, don’t you?’ Polly said.

  Bryony’s head jerked up. ‘Don’t say it,’ she said, replacing the book she’d taken down and returning to the till where she busied herself with some invoices.

  ‘How long has it been?’ Polly asked, thinking of the day that Ben Stratton had left Castle Clare and had never returned.

  ‘I can’t remember,’ Bryony said, not looking up, ‘and I don’t want to be reminded, okay?’

  ‘Okay,’ Polly said, feeling a great swell of love for her. ‘It’s good that you’re not dwelling on the past. That’s really healthy.’

  ‘I know it is,’ Bryony said in a kind of monotone.

  ‘And it’s good that you want to move on.’

  ‘Yes.’

  It was a kind of unspoken rule between them that conversations were not to be had about Mr Ben Stratton or Mr Sean Prior – the two men who had broken the Nightingale sisters’ hearts. Enough tears had been shed over them in the past.

  ‘Maybe Jago will be the one for you,’ Polly said now.

  ‘Who knows?’ Bryony said, looking up at last. ‘He might well be.’

  Polly smiled at her. ‘That’s the spirit. Now, let’s make a cup of tea and get to work on that oversized jammy dodger.’

  It was half-past four and Polly couldn’t keep the secret any longer.

  ‘I’ve got a surprise for you tonight, Archie,’ she said as she placed a plate of toast in front of him. ‘So you’re just having toast now and then something more substantial later.’

  ‘What’s the surprise?’ he asked, his bright eyes looking up at her.

  ‘Someone’s coming round to see you.’ She looked at the clock. ‘In about an hour’s time.’

  ‘Who?’

  Polly couldn’t help smiling. ‘Jago.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Really.’

  ‘With his guitar?’

  ‘I hope so,’ she said.

  ‘Am I having a lesson?’

  ‘We’ll have to see if you’re good. I think he only teaches pupils who do all their homework and eat all their tea.’

  Archie took an extra-big mouthful of toast.

  ‘Don’t eat too fast now,’ Polly said with a little chuckle.

  ‘I’m going to be the best pupil he’s ever had!’ Archie declared.

  ‘Well, let’s see how this first lesson goes. You might not like the guitar.’

  ‘I’m going to love it, Mum!’

  Polly couldn’t help but be touched by her young son’s enthusiasm and she had to admit that she was looking forward to the lesson herself.

  After the tea things had been cleared away and they’d walked Dickens around the village, Archie was like a jack-in-the-box as he kept getting up from the sofa and crossing the room to peep out of the window.

  ‘It’s after half-past five,’ he announced. ‘He’s late.’

  Polly glanced at her watch. ‘Sit down, Archie. You’re making me all jittery.’

  ‘Sorry,’ he said, slumping down on the sofa.

  ‘Can’t you read your book or something whilst you’re waiting?’

  ‘I can’t think about books, Mum,’ he said. ‘Not right now.’

  She tried not to laugh at her son’s earnestness and was mightily relieved when there was a knock at the door a moment later.

  ‘Jago!’ Archie said, leaping off the sofa and causing Dickens to bark heartily.

  Polly followed him into the hallway, trying not to trip over the excited spaniel.

  ‘Hey, Arch!’ Jago said as the door was opened. He was carrying a guitar case and was wearing his big biker jacket.

  ‘Come in,�
� Polly said.

  ‘It’s a cold night, isn’t it?’ he said, bending to stroke Dickens who was sniffing the guitar case.

  ‘Come and warm up in the living room.’ Polly led the way and the four of them were soon sitting down by the wood burner. Jago took his coat off and opened the guitar case, removing the beautiful wooden instrument.

  ‘Wow!’ Archie said. ‘Can I hold it?’

  ‘You’ll have to if you want to play it,’ Jago said.

  ‘Is that full size?’ Polly asked.

  ‘Half-size,’ Jago said. ‘It’s the one I learnt on.’

  ‘So, how do you normally do things?’ she asked.

  ‘Whatever suits you really,’ he said. ‘Every house is different. At one place, I teach in the garage so as not to disturb anyone. Another house has its own music room.’

  ‘Cool!’ Archie said.

  ‘It is cool, Arch,’ Jago said. ‘Imagine a whole room just for music.’

  ‘So you’re okay in here?’ Polly said, suddenly feeling that their modest living room wasn’t up to the job.

  ‘It’s great,’ he said.

  ‘Can I stay and watch?’ Polly asked. ‘Just for a few minutes?’

  ‘Sure,’ he said.

  Polly sat on a chair on the other side of the room. Dickens, who had been sitting at Jago’s feet, refused to move. He wanted to be as close to the action as possible.

  ‘Now, the first thing we want to think about, even before we pick up the guitar, is your posture,’ Jago said to Archie. ‘You know what posture is, right?’

  ‘Yeah, sure – Mum’s always telling me to sit up straight at the table.’

  ‘Well, your mum’s right. Posture is very important. We don’t want you growing into a bent-backed beast, do we?’

  Archie screwed up his nose and shook his head and sat up straight.

  ‘So, now you’re sitting right, we can pick up the guitar. See how it’s got a lovely curve in the middle of its body? Well, that’s going to sit over one of your legs. We’ll go with your right leg for now, okay?’

  ‘Okay,’ Archie said, grabbing hold of the guitar as if it was the most precious thing he’d ever been given.

  ‘See that big hole in the middle? That’s the sound hole, and that’s the bridge at the far end, and up this end are the keys which I’ll tell you about later. Okay – your turn to tell me something. How many strings have we got on this guitar? Do you want to count them for me?

  Archie nodded enthusiastically and counted the strings, mouthing each number. ‘Six,’ he said.

  ‘That’s right,’ Jago said. ‘Give the top one a pluck.’

  Archie did as he was told.

  ‘What does that sound like?’

  ‘Deep.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Jago said. ‘It’s a low note, isn’t it? How about the one at the bottom?’

  Archie plucked the bottom string. ‘It’s high.’

  ‘Good,’ Jago said. ‘Both those strings are E, but we’ll go through the names of the others later on.’

  ‘It can’t be as hard to learn as the piano,’ Archie said.

  Jago laughed. ‘You might be surprised.’

  Polly smiled. She liked the way Jago was around her son, making him feel at ease and asking him questions. As a fellow teacher, she could appreciate how Jago was involving Archie in his own learning rather than just talking at him like his first piano teacher had done. They’d had to get rid of Mr Crosby, she remembered. He’d simply barked instructions at Archie for a full hour and Archie had walked out of the living room looking completely crushed. But Jago was sweet and giving and Archie was responding well.

  Polly watched for a moment longer before quietly slipping out of the room unnoticed. She felt she shouldn’t intrude anymore, but should give them a little bit of privacy.

  In the kitchen, she washed up and then took a couple of jacket potatoes out of the cupboard to prepare for tea. Placing them on the worktop, she paused and then returned to the cupboard and took a third potato out of the bag. It was the least she could do to thank Jago for his time with Archie.

  For the next half an hour, she prepared tea, listening to the happy sound of voices and strumming coming from the living room. When the time was up, Archie came running into the kitchen.

  ‘Mum, Mum!’ he cried. ‘I played a tune. Did you hear?’

  ‘That was you?’

  ‘Did you think it was Jago?’

  ‘I did,’ she said. ‘I really did.’

  ‘It was me, wasn’t it, Jago?’

  ‘It certainly was,’ Jago said, popping his head into the kitchen, a grin as broad as her son’s on his face.

  ‘I’m impressed,’ Polly said. ‘I didn’t think he’d be quite so advanced after just one lesson.’

  ‘It was a nice simple open-stringed tune,’ Jago said. ‘I like to give them something that feels like proper playing. Keeps them interested.’

  ‘Mr Crosby never kept me interested, did he, Mum?’

  ‘No, he didn’t,’ Polly said, thinking about the awful piano teacher again.

  ‘Well, I’m glad you enjoyed it, Arch,’ Jago said.

  ‘When are you coming again?’ Archie looked first at Jago and then at his mother.

  ‘What suits you?’ she asked him.

  ‘How about the weekend?’ he said.

  ‘But that’s ages away!’ Archie said.

  ‘Jago has other pupils and other commitments,’ Polly told her son.

  ‘I suppose,’ Archie said resignedly.

  ‘If any free slots come up, you’ll be the first to hear,’ Jago said and Archie grinned.

  ‘Would you like to stay for tea?’ Polly asked.

  ‘Yes, stay for tea, Jago!’ Archie said.

  ‘Oh, well that’s very kind,’ he said, coming into the kitchen properly.

  ‘It’s nothing fancy. Just a jacket potato and some green beans.’

  ‘Green beans from our garden,’ Archie said. ‘The freezer’s full of them.’

  Jago laughed. ‘Ours too. It was a good summer for them, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Too good,’ Archie said. ‘Mum kept giving me carrier bags of them to give away at school. It was really embarrassing.’

  ‘Archie! You were helping other people out.’

  ‘But nobody wanted them. Everybody had their own,’ he said.

  ‘Well, I for one am a fan, so pile my plate high,’ Jago said.

  ‘She really will,’ Archie said.

  A moment later, all three of them were sitting around the small square table in the kitchen, tucking into their food.

  ‘This is good,’ Jago said. ‘I always seem to be eating on the move. You know, a sandwich here or a hot dog there between lessons. It’s really nice to sit down and enjoy a meal.’

  ‘You should look after your digestion,’ Polly said and then winced. How old did she sound? That was something her mother, Eleanor, would say. ‘I mean, you should eat properly.’ She sighed inwardly.

  ‘I know and I do try,’ he said. ‘It’s just easier not to sometimes.’

  ‘You’re young. You can get away with it, but it will catch up with you,’ she said. Goodness, where was all this advice coming from? He’d think she was about a hundred years old. She’d be checking if he needed help with his washing next.

  But he merely nodded and smiled like the polite young man he was.

  ‘How are you getting on with the Thomas Hardy?’ she asked him.

  ‘Erm, I haven’t actually started it yet.’

  ‘Are you going to read it?’ she asked.

  ‘Of course. I’ve joined the book club to read,’ he said.

  ‘Good,’ she said. Now she sounded like his teacher, she couldn’t help thinking. She had to relax. She took a deep breath. ‘Nice beans, huh?’

  ‘Yeah,’ Jago said. ‘They sure are.’

  Polly was aware that her son was watching them both, his eyes darting between them as they spoke.

  ‘I like baked beans,’ Archie said. ‘With ketchup.’ />
  ‘Archie eats a lot of ketchup,’ Polly said.

  ‘I do,’ Archie confessed.

  ‘I do too,’ Jago said, and the two of them smiled at each other like old friends. Polly liked that.

  When the meal was over, Jago started to clear the table.

  ‘You don’t have to do that,’ Polly told him.

  ‘It’s the least I can do,’ he said.

  ‘Well, you can come again,’ she said and then bit her lip.

  ‘Can I?’ he said and he winked at her.

  ‘Yes – come to tea every day!’ Archie said.

  ‘Archie, I think it’s time for your piano practice, isn’t it?’

  ‘Awww, Mum!’ he groaned.

  ‘If you want to continue with guitar lessons, you have to promise me to keep up with the piano. Go on. Twenty minutes – that’s all.’

  ‘But that’s like forever!’ he said, his shoulders slumping.

  ‘Learning the piano will make playing the guitar much easier,’ Jago told him.

  ‘Will it?’

  ‘It sure will,’ Jago said.

  Archie sighed. ‘Okay then. See you, Jago.’

  Jago raised his hand in a wave.

  ‘Thanks for that,’ Polly said once her son was out of the room.

  ‘You’re welcome.’

  ‘Will the piano really help him with the guitar?’ she asked.

  ‘Well, physically, the guitar is one of the hardest instruments to learn but, as he’s already learning one, that makes it a lot easier to learn another. It’s kind of the same way with learning foreign languages, I think.’

  ‘That’s good to know.’

  There was an awkward pause as both of them glanced at each other, but didn’t quite know what to say.

  ‘Thanks for tea,’ he said.

  ‘You’re welcome.’

  ‘Well, I’d better be off.’ He nipped into the living room to retrieve his coat and guitar.

  ‘Jago?’ Polly said as he headed to the front door.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Listen,’ she began, clearing her throat, ‘before you go, can I ask you something?’

  ‘Sure,’ he said.

  ‘It might seem a bit strange.’

  ‘Now you’ve got me interested,’ he said. ‘What is it?’

  ‘Well,’ Polly began slowly, making sure that Archie was still engaged in his piano practice and wouldn’t be eavesdropping, ‘it’s about my sister.’