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

by Victoria Connelly

  They got out of the car with Dickens in tow, the cold wind instantly wrapping itself around them as they headed for the front door. Polly’s father had planted two great terracotta pots with evergreens and pink and white cyclamen and the tiny spots of colour made Polly smile. She knocked on the door before opening it.

  ‘Hello,’ she called down the hallway and heard the responding barks of Hardy and Brontë as they ran to greet Dickens. She closed the door behind them and instantly felt the wonderful warmth of the house as she unwrapped her stripy scarf and took her coat and boots off. Archie did likewise and bent to give Hardy the pointer a fuss. Brontë and Dickens, had long since vanished, legging it into the kitchen where they were no doubt causing endless mischief.

  ‘Is that you, Polly?’

  ‘It is, Mum!’

  ‘Come on through. You’ll never guess who’s here.’

  ‘It’s Jago!’ Archie said. ‘I told you he was here, Mum!’

  Polly walked towards the kitchen, not yet believing it but, as soon as she entered, she saw that Archie was right and that Jago was there, surrounded by most of the Nightingale family.

  ‘Jago!’ she said in genuine surprise. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘Bryony invited me,’ he said with a grin.

  Polly looked at her sister who came forward and gave her a hug.

  ‘I took a chance asking him,’ Bryony said, but we got on so well on Friday night, didn’t we? And you guys already know him so he’s practically family already.’

  Polly could feel herself blushing on behalf of her sister.

  ‘And, of course, he already knows Sam and Callie from the book club,’ Bryony continued and Polly smiled across at her brother and his partner.

  ‘We’re just relieved that she’s not brought anyone home from one of those awful dating sites,’ Josh said. ‘How did you meet Jago, Bry?’

  ‘Polly introduced me,’ Bryony told her brother.

  Josh’s eyebrows rose. ‘I never took you for a match-maker, Poll.’

  ‘I’m not a match-maker,’ she said, quickly walking over to the sink where she took control of a large cabbage.

  ‘Who’s this match-maker, then?’ Grandpa Joe asked as he shuffled into the room in his slippers.

  ‘Polly,’ Bryony said, grabbing hold of Jago’s arm.

  Grandpa Joe eyed up Polly before turning to look at Bryony and Jago. ‘You’ve done a pretty good job, I’d say. Very handsome couple they make.’

  Bryony laughed.

  ‘Right, everybody!’ Eleanor declared. ‘Give me some space otherwise this lunch will never be ready.’

  The family began to vacate the kitchen, taking glasses of wine and bowls of nibbles into the living room where the fire was roaring.

  ‘Nice cabbage, Mum,’ Polly said from the sink. She usually gave her mother a hand in the kitchen and stayed behind to help now.

  Eleanor approached her. ‘Haven’t you got a kiss for your mum?’

  ‘Of course,’ Polly said, turning round to kiss her cheek.

  ‘You okay?’

  ‘Yes,’ Polly said, turning back to the sink to finish washing the cabbage.

  ‘You seem rattled.’

  ‘Rattled?’ Her mother’s use of the word struck her in the solar plexus. Rattled. It was the name of the song they’d congaed to just the day before.

  ‘Polly?’

  ‘I’m fine.’

  ‘Anything to do with your guitar player being here as Bryony’s guest?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You’re sure? Because you didn’t look overly pleased to see him.’

  ‘I was just surprised, that’s all.’

  ‘I know Bryony’s only just started going out with Jago,’ Eleanor said, ‘but we’ve already heard so much about him from you and Archie that I thought it was about time the rest of us met him. She rang yesterday and asked if she could bring him and you know I hate turning down a guest. You’re not angry are you, Polly?’

  ‘Don’t be silly. Why should I be angry?’ She gave a smile which felt horribly tight and fake to her and, if it felt that way, she knew it would look that way to her mother too.

  ‘Well, you seem angry to me. Is there something you’re not telling me?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  Eleanor shrugged. ‘I don’t know. Like maybe you’ve got feelings for this young man yourself.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ Polly moved away from the sink and wiped her hands on the checked tea towel hanging on the red Aga. ‘Do the carrots or parsnips need to be turned?’

  ‘Polly, stop talking about root vegetables.’

  ‘Is Lara coming?’

  Eleanor shook her head. ‘She said something about having a pretty heavy Saturday night and I didn’t enquire for fear of worrying too much. And you’ve just tried to change the subject again.’

  Polly took a glass from the cupboard and walked back to the sink to fill it with water.

  ‘Polly?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Will you talk to me?’

  ‘What about?’

  ‘You know what about. I have eyes, you know. I can see what’s going on here.’

  ‘Well, if you can see it, we don’t need to talk about it.’

  Eleanor sighed. ‘I want to hear it from you.’

  ‘Hear what, Mum?’

  Eleanor closed the space between herself and her daughter and looked her directly in the eye. ‘What exactly is going on between Jago and Bryony. Is he really interested in her?’

  ‘He went out with her, didn’t he?’

  ‘He did.’

  ‘And he’s here as her guest now,’ Polly pointed out.

  ‘Then why does he keep looking at you?’

  ‘He doesn’t.’

  ‘Yes he does, Polly, and you’re all nervous and fidgety around him.’

  ‘You’re imagining things. Have you been at the wine already?’ Polly took a swig of water, refilled her glass and made her way out of the kitchen.

  ‘I’m not finished with you, Polly!’ Eleanor called after her, and Polly knew her mother was speaking the truth.

  As was the custom at Campion House, guests were seated next to the person who had invited them and so Jago sat next to Bryony which worked out well because that was Lara’s usual place so there was plenty of room in her absence. Polly and Archie were opposite and Archie had begged his mum to let him sit next to Jago, but she’d said no.

  Despite Lara’s absence, the table was wonderfully full with not only Jago but Callie as a guest too. Callie was now a regular and very much a part of the Nightingale family and Polly couldn’t have been happier for her brother, Sam.

  ‘So,’ Frank Nightingale said from the head of the table once everyone was settled and the food was being passed around, ‘who likes these carrots? I grew a new variety this year and I’m not convinced by them. They’re bigger than last year’s, but I don’t think the flavour’s quite there.’

  Josh chuckled. ‘Dad, a carrot is a carrot, isn’t it?’

  ‘It most certainly is not,’ Frank said, ‘as well you’d know if you ever tried to grow anything yourself.’

  ‘My husband’s done his best to get this lot interested in gardening over the years, but to no avail,’ Eleanor explained to Callie and Jago.

  ‘Hey!’ Polly piped up. ‘I grew runner beans last year.’

  ‘So many runner beans!’ Archie said and everyone laughed.

  ‘I once attempted to grow a basil plant on my windowsill, but all the leaves turned brown and it started crawling with disgusting little creatures,’ Josh confessed.

  ‘He didn’t even grow it from seed,’ Bryony said. ‘I got it for him from Sainsbury’s.’

  ‘Gardening is not for the fainthearted,’ Frank said. ‘Anyway, back to these carrots. What do you all think?’

  ‘Very nice, Frank darling,’ Eleanor said.

  ‘Mum?’ Frank said to Grandma Nell.

  ‘They taste like carrots to me,’ she said.

/>   ‘Well, that’s all you can ask really,’ Grandpa Joe said with a little smile as he squeezed his wife’s arm.

  ‘Do you have a garden, Jago?’ Frank asked

  ‘Just a small one at the back of the house. Like Polly’s.’

  ‘He’s opposite me, Dad,’ Polly said.

  ‘Oh, of course.’

  ‘He’s giving me guitar lessons,’ Archie piped up.

  ‘Yes, we know, Archie,’ Eleanor said with a smile.

  ‘And he has his tea with us too,’ Archie said.

  Eleanor and Bryony both stared hard at Polly.

  ‘Only sometimes,’ Jago said.

  ‘And he dances in our front room,’ Archie continued.

  ‘Only sometimes,’ Jago said again.

  ‘He’s very good at the conga,’ Archie added, causing Grandpa Joe to splutter.

  Baffled looks were exchanged around the table.

  ‘It’s all to help Archie with his music practice,’ Polly said. ‘Rhythm.’

  ‘I see,’ Bryony said, but she didn’t look totally convinced.

  Sam, who was sitting to Polly’s right, cleared his throat. ‘I think these are superb carrots,’ he said. There was a moment’s pause and then everybody laughed, breaking the tension.

  Dessert was apple cake served with home-made custard and everybody had second helpings.

  ‘Now, these apples,’ Frank began.

  ‘Are every bit as good as your carrots,’ Eleanor said, winking at him from her end of the table.

  ‘I was going to say that they’re from the tree we planted together when we first moved here. Remember?’

  Eleanor’s expression softened as her memory journeyed back through the years.

  ‘We didn’t have any spare money then because there was so much work to be done on the house,’ Frank continued, ‘but I insisted that we started to plant an orchard.’

  ‘I’m so glad we did that,’ Eleanor said.

  ‘It took a few years to provide as much fruit as it does now, mind,’ Frank said.

  ‘Is that the tree Sam carved his girlfriend’s initials into?’ Josh asked.

  Sam glared across the table at his younger brother and Callie stared at Sam.

  ‘Stop making trouble, Josh,’ Eleanor warned.

  ‘Who was she?’ Callie asked.

  ‘Nobody,’ Sam said.

  ‘Pippa Evans, wasn’t it?’ Josh went on.

  ‘That’s right,’ Bryony said. ‘Her initials were P E.’

  A ripple of laughter sounded around the table.

  ‘It was a long time ago,’ Sam said patiently, picking up Callie’s hand and squeezing it.

  Once everyone was quite sure that they couldn’t manage another mouthful even if there was enough apple cake left for a third helping each, Polly helped her mother clear away the dishes. Jago got up to help too.

  ‘No, no, Jago,’ Eleanor said. ‘You’re our guest.’

  ‘I don’t mind, really,’ he said, following Polly out of the room with an armful of dishes. They got to the kitchen ahead of Eleanor.

  ‘Polly?’ he began. ‘Look, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable by being here, but I really wanted to see you.’

  ‘You saw me yesterday,’ Polly said, rinsing the bowls before putting them in the dishwasher.

  ‘I know,’ he said, ‘but that was twenty-four hours ago. That’s a lot of hours.’

  Polly smiled in spite of herself, cursing him for being such a wit.

  ‘May I remind you that you’re here with my sister?’

  ‘Yes, I know.’

  ‘So what are you doing flirting with me in the kitchen?’

  ‘Is that what I’m doing – flirting?’ he asked, a grin on his face as she turned to look at him.

  It was then that Eleanor walked in with a tray loaded with glasses.

  ‘What a shame Lara couldn’t make it,’ she said. ‘I do love a table full to its capacity.’ She stopped as she saw just how close Jago was standing to her daughter. ‘I’ll leave these here,’ she said, putting the tray down on a worktop and leaving the kitchen.

  ‘Now, look what you’ve done!’ Polly cried.

  ‘Me?’

  ‘Yes, you!’ she said. ‘You really shouldn’t have come here today.’

  He took a deep breath. ‘I know. But I came because I wanted to tell you something.’

  ‘You wanted to tell me something so you come to Sunday lunch as my sister’s guest, surrounded by Nightingales where there’s no hope of getting a single moment to yourself?’

  ‘We’ve got a moment now,’ he said. ‘Listen–’

  ‘What’s going on?’ Bryony asked as she breezed into the kitchen.

  Polly gave Jago a look as if to say, I told you so.

  ‘Jago’s just helping me with the dishes,’ she said, busying herself with the glasses her mother had placed on the worktop.

  Bryony looked from one to the other and back again. ‘What were you talking about?’

  ‘Nothing,’ Polly said. ‘We were just–’

  ‘Archie’s next guitar lesson,’ Jago finished.

  ‘Oh,’ Bryony said. ‘Well, I missed you.’ She took hold of Jago’s arm in an act that Polly couldn’t help thinking was far too familiar after only one date.

  ‘We’ll talk later,’ Jago said, allowing himself to be led out of the room.

  Polly sighed. She hated feeling like this, but she just couldn’t seem to control her emotions when Jago was around and she couldn’t deny the little glances he’d given her across the dining room table throughout lunch. She only hoped nobody else had noticed them although she suspected her mother had.

  ‘Is that fire still going?’ Eleanor’s voice came from the hallway. ‘We don’t want to freeze having our tea.’ She entered the kitchen again. ‘All clear?’

  Polly gave a little smile. ‘It will be in a minute.’

  ‘I’m not talking about the dishes. I was wondering which of my daughters was monopolising that handsome young man.’

  ‘He’s with Bryony, Mum.’

  ‘Is he?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Does he want to be?’ Eleanor asked.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  Eleanor shook her head. ‘I’m not going to push you, Polly, but it seems to me that there’s something going on between the two of you.’

  ‘There really isn’t–’

  ‘And that you’re not quite ready to admit it yet,’ Eleanor said, ‘but don’t leave it too long, darling. We all want to see you happy after all you’ve been through. You mustn’t be afraid to move on and Jago seems really lovely although he needs to be honest with Bryony if he’s not interested in her, and the sooner the better. And Archie adores Jago, doesn’t he?’

  ‘He’s teaching Archie the guitar. That’s all. We’re just friends,’ Polly said.

  Eleanor nodded. ‘Okay,’ she said, ‘just promise me one thing?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘That you give me a call as soon as you acknowledge what’s going on in the heart of yours.’

  CHAPTER FİFTEEN

  Tea was served in the living room. Eleanor had brought out her prettiest china cups. After a lifetime of servicing the Nightingale family, her china collection was a wonderful mismatch of different sizes and designs, but it was all the more fun for that and the women in the family always looked forward to seeing which pretty cup they would get. Would it be the delightfully round yellow and white one rimmed with gold? Or the sweet blue and white one with the image of a songbird? Or the elegant cup in turquoise and gold? The men would have been happy with a chunky mug with chips and tea stains, but Sunday was a day for fine bone china.

  Polly sat nursing her cup in front of the fire. She had been given the little white and green cup smothered in pale pink roses. There was a tiny hairline crack inside it and Polly remembered the day that they had bought it at the church fete, discovering it in a tatty cardboard box that had been filled with old pipes and pipe cleaners. The little cup had been screa
ming to be rescued by an appreciative woman and Eleanor had been delighted with her purchase.

  Polly glanced across the room to where Jago was sitting on one of the sofas in between Bryony and Archie amongst the heaps of floral cushions. He was holding one of the blue and white teacups and it looked so tiny in his great big hands that Polly almost laughed. But then she thought about those great big hands holding onto her waist as they’d danced in her living room and she suddenly didn’t want to laugh anymore.

  She got up from her chair by the fire. ‘Anyone up for a walk?’ she said.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Sam said, ‘it’s pretty cold out there today.’

  ‘Well, the dogs deserve a stretch,’ Polly said. ‘I won’t hear the last of it if I don’t take Dickens out.’

  ‘Bryony?’ Jago asked. ‘Fancy going?’

  ‘You seriously want to go out?’ she asked him, looking out of the window at the grey and decidedly wet afternoon.

  ‘Sure,’ he said. ‘I don’t often get to walk a pack of dogs in the country.’

  ‘Knock yourself out,’ she said and Jago got up from the sofa. Bryony then caught Polly’s eye. ‘Actually, I will come,’ Bryony said. ‘I need to walk some of that cake off.’

  Polly wondered if Bryony’s decision was really about cake or if she just didn’t trust her and Jago on their own after catching them in their tête-à-tête in the kitchen.

  ‘Grandpa?’ Polly asked as she headed into the hallway.

  He waved a hand at her. ‘I’ll stay here with Nell,’ he said and Polly looked across at her grandmother who was taking a nap in her favourite chair. After the fright she’d given them just a few months before, Grandpa had been keeping a special watch over her.

  ‘I’ll come,’ Josh said.

  ‘Come on, Sam,’ Callie said, standing up. ‘I need to walk that cake off too.’

  ‘No you don’t,’ Sam said. ‘I like that you’ve put a bit of weight on since moving to Suffolk.’

  Callie gasped and Eleanor and Bryony gave cries of surprise too.

  ‘I didn’t mean–’

  ‘Did a son of mine just comment on a woman’s weight?’ Eleanor asked.

  ‘It came out wrong–’ Sam said.

  ‘I haven’t put any weight on, have I?’ Callie asked, her hands flying to her tummy.

  ‘I just meant that you’re absolutely perfect,’ Sam said.