by Lisa Hill
‘Yes, I’ve got her doing a bit of reconnaissance work for me. In fact, I’m rather hoping the fact that she’s not back yet means it’s going well.’
Drew scooped up the papers he’d had spread over the desk, trying to put together a fact sheet for the new rental property they’d just taken on, and shoved them all into a blue card wallet. ‘You’ve lost me mate. What’s Lottie sticking her nose into now?’
‘Well.’ James leaned back in the chair and stuck his hands up behind his head. ‘You know Rebecca.’
Drew raised an eyebrow. ‘She’s difficult to miss. Five-foot eight-ish, slender, vixen like, was copping-off with our father.’
‘Yes, well, we’re all allowed to make mistakes.’
‘Some more than others.’
‘Oh, don’t be like that Drew! I seem to recall you used to have a bit of a crush on her, back in the day.’
‘I was nineteen and just started university.’
‘You were her puppy dog, followed her everywhere.’
It was true that Drew had spent most of his university years with a level of unrequited love for Rebecca. Only she’d had her pick of the rugby team, wasn’t interested in someone the same age as her and had been far more interested in James when he’d finally persuaded her to meet his family. Having worked alongside her for nearly twenty years, she was more like a sister to him now. More importantly, when he’d started work, he’d met Lottie and fallen head over heels in love with her.
‘Not really.’ Better to be dismissive about this. He and Lottie had had their ups and downs in the past year but that was all behind them now; they didn’t need the past hurtling towards them with a pick axe. ‘Although, I have a lot to thank Rebecca for; I wasn’t brilliant with the ladies and she convinced me that Lottie did fancy me, and it would be safe enough to ask her out without fear of rejection.’
James grinned. ‘You were made for each other.’
‘I know.’ Drew beamed. They were a dream team; HG1 was going from strength to strength, Lottie was happy balancing having a career she enjoyed and still being a hands-on mum and Drew never had to sleep in one of the spare bedrooms at the Old Rectory ever again. Perfect.
James leaned forward onto the desk. ‘And that’s what I want too, Drew!’
Drew’s face fell from the wistful expression of happiness to one of sheer horror. ‘With Rebecca?’
‘Don’t say it like that!’
‘Rebecca who shagged our father?’
‘I think I would phrase it a little more eloquently.’
‘Like how?’
‘Like,’ James spread his hands wide, ‘we’ve all made mistakes and as long as we learn from them, that’s fine.’
Drew was pretty sure his eyebrows had disappeared into his hairline.
‘And what about Mum?’
‘Oh, for fuck’s sakes.’ James rolled his eyes. ‘That’s your first thought about every situation, isn’t it? What will Mum say? She’s getting married to Jack; she should be delighted that Dad played away with Rebecca otherwise she’d never have had the courage to leave. How many affairs were there before Rebecca?’
Drew swallowed hard and said nothing. Deep down, he knew James was right but for some reason, it still made him feel uncomfortable.
‘Rebecca let her emotions get the better of her, she thought Dad loved her. She didn’t understand that the only two things Dad loves are himself and money. It’s no different to your situation last year; if Lottie hadn’t loved you deep down, she could have easily been swept off her feet by that Thorpe bloke.’
‘That Thorpe bloke is a major investor in HG1 and was very supportive when our marriage broke down.’ Drew’s jaw jutted out.
‘Okay, touched a nerve, sorry.’ James held his hands up. ‘I’m just saying that it’s easy to have your head turned, if you’re in the right place to have it turned.’
‘You and Lottie make a right pair; you are both full of the same emotional bollocks. Do what you want with Rebecca; woo her, take her out, marry her for all I care but go careful not to hurt Mum’s feelings, she’s fragile enough as she is. Right now, I’m more worried about this proposed development of yours and Dad’s, and the fact Mum is ploughing ahead with a wedding to Jack when she seems to have overlooked the minor fact that she’s still married to Dad.’
‘Don’t go there. I was glad to go to work this morning and escape her poring over glossy magazines, asking if she thought she could get away with a full-length dress. It’s excruciating.’
‘Does Dad suspect anything?’
James shook his head. ‘No, and let’s try to keep it that way for the moment. I’m trying to keep on top of the Clunderton development to prevent him suddenly turning up.’
‘I’m being ostracized by the villagers. I can’t go in the stores without Johnnie challenging me. I keep trying to say it’s nothing to do with me, but—’
‘You’re a Hardwicke, it’s everything to do with you.’
‘Precisely.’
‘Do you think you can win them around?’
‘James!’
‘What? You want to go on living in the village, don’t you? You want to hold your head up high in the pub, the stores, the school playground. You are a respectable pillar of the community; we can make the villagers understand why some new homes and a few new shops will be beneficial for them.’
‘We? Planning on staying around after the building project is finished then?’
‘Dad’s managing the southern branches now, so I’m here to stay.’
‘And that’s got nothing to do with one of your Branch Managers?’
‘I’m back!’ The glass door swung open and Lottie staggered in looking like Bambi on ice. There were several designer paper shopping bags hanging from the crook of her arm. ‘Sorry, got a bit way laid.’
James laughed. ‘Drunk more like!’
Lottie tottered across the office carpet, sitting herself down in the other visitor’s chair, opposite Drew’s desk.
‘What time do you call this?’ He stuck his tongue in his cheek.
‘I call it time for you to take me home and we can order a take away.’
‘To line your stomach?’
‘I’m just the teeniest bit tipsy.’ She narrowed her fingers together to impress the point. ‘I had a delicious brunch with Rebecca and then we had the splendid idea of a bit of retail therapy. We decided we deserved it.’
‘She didn’t consider it might get her the sack?’ James asked flatly.
‘From what I understand, James, that’s exactly what she’s hoping.’
James let out a long sigh. ‘Not interested then?’
Lottie looked at James, her eyes sparkling brightly. ‘I didn’t say that, did I? You just need to give her some time.’
‘Did you take Rebecca out to lunch to grill her on James’ behalf?’ Drew asked, incredulously.
‘Might have done.’ She grinned at Drew flirtatiously, as if that might get her off the hook.
‘Lottie, you promised me—’
Lottie held her hand up. ‘It’s not interfering. Not if James asked me, is it? It’s, well…’ she blustered, pushing her hair away from her face, ‘it’s just you and I wouldn’t have got back together without a generous amount of counselling from Tom, so why can’t I help James, if this is what he wants?’
Drew looked at James. ‘Is Rebecca what you want?’
James looked from Drew to Lottie and back to Drew. ‘Look, you may find this hard to believe but I’ve always had strong feelings for Rebecca. Our timing has been appalling but I think there’s been moments of flirtation from her over the years. It was crushing when I found Dad had got involved with her, but why should that put me off? She’s not with Dad; he had what he wanted from her and abandoned her. She deserves much better than that and I truly believe I’m the man to give her what she deserves.’
‘Oh, that’s so lovely.’ Lottie clasped her hands together and looked on wistfully at James.
‘You are a
deluded romantic, Lottie Hardwicke,’ Drew said, flatly, not buying into the emotional crap James had just spouted out. He fixed James with a purposeful stare. ‘If it’s what you want then I support you wholeheartedly. Just tread very carefully where Mum’s concerned.’
‘Ugh,’ Lottie and James groaned in unison.
Chapter Fifteen
‘One slice of toast or two?’ Pamela asked, her hand hovering over the toaster with slices of sourdough. She had decided that if they were going to marry as soon as possible, both her and Jack needed to go on a diet. Not to lose weight, per se, more that neither of them were getting any younger and she wanted the pair of them positively glowing for the wedding photographs.
‘Just the one for me, thank you,’ Jack said, from his now routine position reading the morning newspaper sitting on one of the bar stools around the kitchen island.
‘What plans do you have for today?’
Jack flicked the paper to look at his watch. Since Jack had moved in, breakfast had become quite a leisurely affair at the Old Rectory. Pamela had resigned herself to a celibate life since her early fifties – Edward had never been interested after he had discovered ‘other pursuits’ which she had thought had been golf but was just a guise for string of young office girls – but finding love with Jack had been a revelation. She couldn’t remember ever having sex before breakfast in her life and yet it was a regular occurrence these days at the Old Rectory.
‘Haven’t put much thought into it. The lawn needs a cut; that’ll take up the rest of the morning.’
Edward had employed a gardener for mundane tasks like sitting on the ride-on mower to cut the vast lawn at the Old Rectory. Jack thought it a waste of money when he could do it himself; that was why she loved him, he was so hands-on, so practical.
‘I was thinking,’ she said, lifting the now toasted sourdough from the toaster with wooden tongs, ‘that it might be a good idea to pop along the road, to the vicarage, and see what availability Reverend Eckersley has for weddings later this year. It’s two weeks now since you proposed; time’s ticking on.’
Jack silently folded his paper up, setting it down whilst pulling the marmalade jar towards him. He waited for her to bring the plates of toast over and seat herself on the stool opposite him. ‘Don’t you think the Reverend might like to see a decree nisi before he starts booking us in his diary?’
‘Oh, Jack, I knew you’d react like that!’ As much as she now loved him, the reason they had never got on in the first place was his propensity to say it as it was.
That and the fact he was always right.
Jack laughed. ‘Then why did you suggest it?’
Pamela laughed and started to spread the new soya margarine she’d bought onto her slice of toast. ‘Because, I live in hope of you acting out of character for a change and saying, oh, darling, what a wonderful idea, yes, let’s get ourselves down to the vicarage and set a date, I’d love nothing more.’
Jack picked up the tub of margarine and eyed it suspiciously. ‘Got any butter?’
‘In the fridge, but this is much healthier,’ she said, pointing her knife at the margarine.
‘Probably the same number of calories and tastes disgusting; I’ll stick to what I know, thanks.’ He hopped off the stool and retrieved the butter from the fridge. ‘Look,’ he said, reseating himself, ‘I understand that you’re excited, but we need to do this properly. When Edward—’
‘If.’
‘—come on Pam, he’s going to find out eventually and when he does, he’s going to kick up a stink. The man can’t help it; he’s as bad as Lottie when it comes to interfering.’
‘Don’t let Lottie hear you say that.’
‘Say what?’ The boot room door opened and there stood Lottie, all glamorous in her Chanel cream two-piece and matching high heels.
Pamela almost spat out her toast. ‘Oh Lottie, you gave me a terrible fright! How did you get in?’
‘Drew’s spare keys,’ Lottie said, jangling them. ‘He never returned them after his little holiday here last year. Sorry, I didn’t mean to alarm you, I had a brainwave this morning and I wanted to discuss it with you. What didn’t you want me to hear?’
‘Nothing,’ Jack said firmly, before biting into his now fully lathered with butter toast.
Lottie eyed him suspiciously.
‘Go on then, Lottie, what’s so urgent you need to break into the house so early in the morning?’
‘It is ten-thirty,’ Lottie said, incredulously, wandering over to the coffee machine and dropping a pod into it. ‘The life of the retired, eh?’ She winked at Jack who also almost choked on his breakfast.
‘Pamela’s got a point,’ he said, recovering himself. ‘There was a time you’d have still been in your running gear mid-morning, your body wouldn’t have seen a shower before midday.’
‘Alright, Dad.’ Lottie pressed the button on the coffee machine and it began chugging away. ‘We’re all allowed to change; you and Pamela were once sworn enemies.’
‘Touché,’ said Jack. ‘Talking of change, I was just telling Pamela she really needs to get on and start divorce proceedings; can you recommend anyone?’
‘Plenty of conveyancers but I’m not sure who would be the best for divorce. I guess someone who’s of the mindset of Edward.’
‘What?’ Pamela and Jack chorused in confusion.
‘Well, Edward’s not going to give up this lot,’ Lottie waved her arms around the kitchen for dramatic effect, ‘without a fight, is he? So, you’re going to need someone equally tenacious to ensure Pamela gets the best deal for her.’
Jack nodded in agreement and chewed down on his toast. Pamela’s early sense of excitement was beginning to evaporate, confronted by fear from the dawn of realisation that she was going to have to face Edward at some point. Or would she? Could it all be done with a few solicitor letters?
‘Anyway, what’s this brainwave you’ve had?’ Pamela asked, hoping to bury the feeling of unease creeping through her.
‘It’s about Jean.’
‘Oh?’ This was something to get excited about. Something to help her forget about Edward.
‘Jean?’ Jack asked.
‘Yes, Pamela asked me to help her.’
Jack surveyed Pamela through narrowed eyes. He waited for Lottie to add sugar into her coffee and join them at the island. ‘Help or stick your nose in where it’s not wanted.’
Lottie looked on stony faced at her father. They were so alike, Pamela realised. Kind, reliable and totally dogmatic.
‘I think if I’m the person who’s been approached to help, then it’s unlikely I’m the one sticking my nose in where it isn’t wanted.’
Jack turned to Pamela. ‘I thought you’d tasked Audrey with approaching Jean?’
Pamela rested her head in her hands. ‘Mum isn’t talking to Jean, they haven’t spoken since the Oak Acre debacle, apparently. So, I’m stuck,’ her voice descended to a whisper, ‘and I thought Lottie might be able to help me.’
‘Lottie, who you blamed for interfering where Audrey was concerned last year?’
‘Ohhh! Jack, you are so infuriating sometimes! That’s all in the past, Lottie knows that, Mum knows that, we’ve all moved on. Except for Jean. I really want her at the wedding!’ she wailed. She realised she was being overdramatic now, but if Lottie was here with a brainwave, then there was a possibility she could reconcile with Jean and she really wanted that more than anything. She’d spent too many years estranged from her family.
Jack let out a sharp sigh. ‘Go on then Lottie, what’s your harebrained idea this time?’
Lottie rolled her eyes at Jack’s quip. ‘I’ve been tasked with organising the school summer fete and—’
‘Yer what? You just love responsibility, don’t you? Is running your own business and raising three children not enough?’ Jack looked at Pamela. ‘You know who’ll be picking up the slack with school runs and entertaining the children at weekends, don’t you? Us! That’s who.’
; Lottie looked at Pamela with an expression of sheer ambivalence. She turned to Jack. ‘Finished?’
‘Yes,’ Jack muttered, picking up his mug of tea.
‘I offered to organise it because I wanted to ensure HG1 sponsors it.’
‘Who usually sponsors it?’ Pamela asked.
Lottie cleared her throat. ‘Hardwickes.’
‘Oh, charming, I guess James didn’t even get a look-in.’
Lottie rolled her eyes again. ‘Do you want my help with Jean or not?’
‘Yes,’ she said, through gritted teeth.
‘So, as I was saying, I’m organising the fete and I thought it would be an ideal opportunity for you to sort of bump into Jean and break the ice, in a public place where Jean can’t kick off.’
‘Don’t you recall her outburst at the farmhouse last year?’ Jack asked.
‘I do. Thankfully the Petersens and Tom had left by then.’
‘That Mike’s no better either. And how exactly do you intend to get them to turn up at the summer fete? They live in Harrogate; some backwater village fete is hardly likely to be on their radar.’
‘Yes, well, I haven’t quite formulated my plan that far. I was thinking Audrey might be a likely candidate to get Jean to the fete.’
‘I feel like we’re going around in circles here; Audrey’s not speaking to Jean either!’ Jack said, slamming his mug down. ‘Plus, this is ridiculous, you haven’t divorced Edward yet, we haven’t booked the church and you’re worrying about whether Jean will come to the wedding!’
Pamela had detached herself from Lottie and Jack’s bickering by now. All anxiety of sorting a solicitor had dissipated, replaced with a fizz of excitement at Lottie’s half-baked plan. It could work. It was a good idea for her to bump into Jean somewhere public, Lottie was right; Jean was less likely to cause a scene.
‘Let’s ask Pamela, shall we?’
Tuning back in, she looked up to find both of them giving off meaningful stares. Jack’s said, this is bonkers, DO NOT get involved whereas Lottie’s was pleading for Pamela to agree with her.
Pamela nodded. ‘Do you know, I think it could work and I think I know how.’