Heart in the Right Home

by Lisa Hill

  Lottie smiled. ‘I’ve never been Edward’s number one fan, but I do feel he’s done you a favour, in a perverse sort of way.’

  Rebecca stopped laughing and frowned. ‘How?’ All she wished is that Edward hadn’t returned to Yorkshire last year. She’d never been short of admirers; she might have started a relationship with one of those men and been happy by now. Settled, even. Thinking of starting a family. All the things she had desperately wanted but had thrown aside in a moment of sheer madness, when she’d fallen for a man nearly thirty years older than her.

  Silly cow.

  Lottie’s eyes were dancing. ‘They’re going to need your help.’

  ‘Help? How could they possibly need my—’

  ‘I hate to sound the like school headmaster but there seems to be a hell of a lot of giggling going on in here and no sound of any phoning-out.’ James suddenly appeared through the archway. ‘Oh, Lottie, it’s you.’ He came to an abrupt halt in front of the two women with a flushing face of embarrassment.

  ‘Nice to see you too, James,’ Lottie said, standing up. ‘You want to go careful; you sounded just like your father then.’

  ‘Thanks,’ James said, flatly.

  Rebecca watched James’ foppish brown locks quiver as they flopped in front of his face and for the first time she started to view him through new eyes. His striking, commanding presence, the hint of muscle tone trying to burst through from under his fitted, blue and white pinstripe suit. His stubbled, toned jawbone jutting out having been put in his place by Lottie. Was it what Lottie had just told her? Was it this new-found release from her guilt which was allowing her to remind herself how she used to desire James, all those years ago?

  ‘Anyway, what are you doing here; forgot you don’t work here anymore?’

  He sounded flustered now. He was smoulderingly sexy when he was on the edge of anger.

  ‘Doing you a favour,’ Lottie said, picking up her handbag and swinging it onto her shoulder.

  Rebecca frowned, unsure of what Lottie meant. She thought Lottie had come to visit her, not James.

  ‘Oh?’ James’ voice had changed from truculent to intrigued.

  ‘Yes, I’m looking for volunteers; a chance for you to feel good for helping out a good cause.’

  ‘Why do I get the feeling I’m not going to like what you ask next?’ James replied.

  ‘Well, let’s call it more of an order, not a request; I need people to help with the summer fete. All the money raised goes to the school, where your nephew and niece attend, so I’ll put you down for the refreshments tent, shall I?’

  James sighed and shifted on the spot. ‘When is it?’

  ‘Saturday.’

  ‘This Saturday, oh I’m not sure—’

  ‘It’s okay, I checked with Rich and he said he’s more than happy to swap shifts with Rebecca. So, he’ll cover here and both of you can come and help make afternoon tea for the masses. I’ll need you to arrive by midday, that okay?’

  Rebecca stared at Lottie, her mouth slightly ajar. ‘Oh, Lottie, I—’

  ‘No arguing, this is a family affair.’ She winked at Rebecca. ‘Anyway, I’d better be going, I’ll see you at lunchtime.’ And with that, she waggled her fingers and disappeared out of the office.

  James stared at Rebecca. ‘Fait accompli; how does she do it?’

  Rebecca shrugged. ‘You know Lottie; persistence pays off.’

  ‘You’re not wrong there. Are you okay with it? You know, bumping into Mum and all that?’

  A smile whispered on the corner of Rebecca’s lips. She should be angry with Lottie, but she knew what Lottie was up to and she actually appreciated the interference, for once. Rebecca wasn’t going to move her life on if she didn’t come face-to-face with her fear.

  Chapter Thirty

  The door knocked loudly, and Audrey counted to ten, as if she was nonchalantly going about her business in the kitchen, or something like that, and not pacing the three-foot square, tiny entrance hall at Church End. She took a deep breath before pulling open the front door.

  ‘Jeannie!’ she said, smiling as widely as her dentures would allow.

  Jean was standing there mournfully, in a lemon floaty dress with a white bolero cardigan. Her usual greasy, mouse-coloured hair - normally plastered flat to her head - was, surprisingly, freshly washed, wispy and bouncy.

  ‘Who else were you expecting?’ There was an edge to Jean’s voice. A belligerent edge which Audrey decided was best ignored.

  ‘Mike, actually.’ Audrey peered over Jean’s shoulder, but the driveway at Church End was empty, no car, just its normal limestone gravel running to where it met Church Lane.

  ‘He’s gone to golf,’ Jean said, gruffly.

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘He felt it was best Pam and I mended our differences without him; said it would look like an ambush otherwise.’

  Audrey discovered some newfound respect for Mike; this was exactly how she felt too when she had broached Jean coming to the village fete with her last week. Jean had reluctantly agreed to come but been insistent that Mike came too. Jean hadn’t gone as far as eluding it was for moral support, but Audrey knew that was what it was. Jean might look and sound as fierce as the Gruffalo, the story Evie always insisted on at bedtime when Audrey babysat for Drew and Lottie, but she was as timid as a mouse on the inside. When she had seen Pammie at Oak Acre last year Jean had been able to see for herself the air of glamour Pammie had retained, and it was easy to see why Jean had made an effort today. The mother in Audrey wanted to take Jean’s hand and tell her it was all going to be okay, but instead she settled for the next best thing.

  ‘Come in, let’s have a cup of tea before we set out.’

  ‘Okay,’ Jean said, glumly. ‘What if I don’t get a warm reception though?’

  Audrey had to concede she’d sort of blackmailed Jean into this situation. Eluding that she might change her will if there wasn’t a reunion between the two sisters. She thought Jean was the one holding a grudge towards Pamela, it hadn’t occurred to her that what Jean was actually experiencing was fear of rejection from Pamela as much as Pamela was fearing being rejected by Jean. But Audrey wasn’t in the mood for taking ‘no’ for an answer. She wasn’t sure if it was her new found confidence from working in the tearooms but she felt ready to take on the world. All she really needed now was for that rogue, Edward Hardwicke, to turn up so she could put him well and truly in his place, once and for all, as well.

  ‘Jeannie, Pammie has wanted this for ages; she’s going to be over the moon to see you!’

  Jean stepped over the threshold. ‘I still don’t see why we need to do this somewhere so public though.’

  Audrey led the way into the kitchen and busied herself making the tea. She could hardly say, because hopefully, this way, there’s less likely consequence of one of you causing a scene.

  ***

  ‘Hi, Jack.’ The voice called out from over the other side of the plant and fresh produce stall.

  Jack straightened up from where he had been bent over disentangling the tomato plants he had brought on from seed, ready to sell today.

  ‘Hmm?’ he said, turning around. ‘Ah, Johnnie, hello. What can I do for you? Not quite ready to start selling yet.’

  It was just gone eleven and the fete didn’t officially begin until midday. He still had quite a lot of setting up to do. Pamela was meant to be helping but she had gone to fuss over James, feeling he couldn’t manage to heat a tea urn all by himself, over in the refreshments tent.

  ‘It’s okay, I’ve brought you these.’ Johnnie lifted up some shallow wicker baskets full of all sorts of fresh fruit and vegetables. Beautiful heritage carrots with their stalks still on and beetroot that looked like it had just been picked from the ground, still covered in mud.

  ‘Why, thank you,’ Jack said, reaching out and taking the baskets. ‘Didn’t know you were a gardener too?’ Not only had Jack cultivated the top corner of the Old Rectory garden into a vegetable patch, he still
went back, daily, to Church End to tend to his vegetable patches there, and the greenhouse. Audrey had been a great help in keeping everything watered, she seemed to enjoy gardening as much as he did.

  ‘No, these came in fresh in the veg boxes from our supplier this morning. Just one of our little donations to the fete. I’m not stopping actually, got to get back and look after the stores. Lou’s looking after the chillers we’ve brought down to provide ice creams.’

  Jack chuckled. ‘That poor girl, never stops, does she? Always rushing here and there, just like my Lottie.’

  ‘Modern women.’ Johnnie laughed.

  Jack wasn’t sure if it was modern women or lazy husbands; he had had to kick Drew into touch last year. Not that it was his place to go giving Johnnie a lecture too.

  ‘Actually, we’re both overworked—’

  Well, at least he was recognising it, Jack thought.

  ‘—and we’ve decided to take that holiday I mentioned to you.’

  ‘Oh?’ Jack feigned memory loss. Johnnie had approached him a couple of weeks ago to see if he would step in and mind the shop while the Edwards took a holiday. Hoping it was just idle chitchat – Johnnie was married to that shop, more committed to it than he was to his own wife – he had filed the conversation at the back of his mind, along with the long conversations he had with Pamela where she moaned on and on about Edward.

  ‘Yes, so I was hoping you and Pamela might be able to step in and run the stores, just for a week?’

  No such luck.

  ‘Oh, right.’ Even Jack could identify the element of surprise in his voice. He’d never run a shop before. However, he’d been the Human Resources Director for the largest pharmaceutical company in the country, employing over seventy thousand staff, so how hard could a village shop be?

  ‘Sorry, if you don’t want to do it, I wouldn’t expect you to. It’s a lot to ask, and what with your age and everything, I—’

  ‘I beg your pardon? What about my age? I’m a lithe sixty-nine-year-old man, you should know; plenty of life in the old dog yet! When are you going?’

  Johnnie smiled, and Jack instantly knew he’d been played. He should have identified the signs; perhaps he wasn’t as sharp as he thought he was anymore. When Lottie was a child – and still now if he conceded it – the only way he ever got her to do anything he wanted was to use reverse psychology. Which is exactly what Johnnie had just done to Jack; elude that perhaps he wasn’t up to the job. So, now Jack and agreed to do something he wasn’t even sure he wanted to do out of sheer obstinance.

  Crafty bastard.

  ‘I haven’t booked it yet; wanted to check with you first. Hopefully, as soon as the girls finish their exams, so around the beginning of July.’

  Jack swallowed hard. That was three weeks away. He nodded, his mind racing. ‘What about all the baking?’

  Johnnie scratched the top of his head, tied back in a ponytail today. ‘Well, Audrey has said she’ll manage the scones and the cakes, and we’ll get one of our suppliers from Harrogate to deliver bread daily. You’ll have to come in and shadow me for a few days before, if you don’t mind and, of course, I will recompense you for all the hours you work.’

  Jack rubbed the stubble on his jawline and looked at Johnnie as a plan formulated in his mind. ‘Tell you what, I’m not doing it for the money, I’m doing it to help a friend out—’

  ‘Ah, that’s very kind of you, Jack.’

  ‘No problem. So, how about when you’re back we talk about booking you in for the catering of our wedding. Perhaps I could negotiate a discount on your services and Louise could throw in a cake for free.’

  ‘Sounds perfect; Lou’s eager to get cracking on her cake business. And congratulations by the way; you know what the village is like, I had heard, but no-one had formally told me.’

  ‘That’s because Pamela started telling half the village before she’d considered the fact she isn’t divorced.’ Fleetingly, that nagging feeling of anxiety flashed to the forefront of his mind again. He still hadn’t gone as far as sorting an engagement ring. ‘We’re hoping for an autumn wedding; we should know more by the time you get back from your holiday. Anyway, I’d best get on and set this stall up; the fete-goers will be here shortly.’

  ‘Yes, I’d better check Lou and the girls are okay, catch you later.’ With that, Johnnie waved and started trekking across to Louise’s ice-cream stall, next to the refreshments tent.

  Jack chuckled to himself. He’d almost been had over there, but he had come away with the upper hand in the end. Plus, he needed some sort of carrot to dangle when he told Pamela she needed to don a tabard and play for shops for the week.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Rebecca took a deep breath as she zapped her car fob to lock it, her stomach whirring like a washing machine on spin cycle. It’s going to be fine, she repeated over and over in her mind as she strolled in her loafers across the carpark towards the school. She’d spent so long perfecting her outfit, she’d almost made herself late. In the end she’d opted for white skinny jeans, teamed with her Tommy Hilfiger navy loafers, a pale blue and white pinstripe shirt and a navy, over-sized, double-breasted jacket she’d bought in Zara in Leeds last month. She was keen to impress James, appear alluring, but she was the scarlet woman; she needed to ensure she didn’t wear anything which oozed harlot and gave Pamela even more reason to hate her.

  ‘Ah, there you are!’ Lottie waved, from the fete entrance, at the side of the school, where a gate onto the school field had been opened. Rebecca watched Lottie’s smile drop as she got closer. ‘What are you wearing?’

  Rebecca burst out laughing. ‘Thanks! Coming from the woman looking like a nineteen-fifties house wife, a là Kirstie Allsopp when she’s off doing her crafty make-and-do things!’ Lottie was wearing a floral tea dress, which just had to be from Cath Kidston, with her hair neatly pinned up into a pretty chignon. Luckily her dress was a wrap around, so it gave way for her impressive cleavage, otherwise the whole effect might have been more Miss Trunchbull than Kirstie-does-crafts.

  Rebecca watched Lottie’s face flush. ‘You look very nice, like Queen Organiser of the summer fete.’

  Lottie grinned. ‘Thank you, and I’m sorry, I, er—’

  ‘Was so rude about my outfit?’ Rebecca’s ponytail swayed behind her as she tried hard to conceal another fit of laughter. ‘I think it’s probably karma for all the times I’ve cast an eye over your outfits in the past. That was the old Rebecca though,’ she hurried on.

  Lottie hooked her arm through Rebecca’s. ‘Yes, that’s all in the past; today is all about the future and you, hopefully, moving to Clunderton.’

  The sickly, spinning feeling in Rebecca’s stomach gave way to a teeny, fizz of excitement. ‘Oh, don’t jinx it, Lottie!’

  She had put her trust in Lottie. She really hoped today went well because she finally felt ready for a new beginning.

  ***

  ‘Pam, you seen those plastic bags?’

  Pamela looked up from the bridal magazine she was nervously flicking through, sitting in one of her padded, garden deckchairs, trying to calm her nerves by soaking up some rays in the little suntrap under the awning of the plant stall. There had been a few customers so far, but not enough to warrant her getting up and helping Jack. She was so on edge she was worried she’d keep dropping the produce. Anyway, Jack seemed to be handling it all commendably.

  ‘Hmm? Is it a roll of bags? You know David Attenborough says we shouldn’t be using plastic? We should have got some paper ones to sell produce in.’

  ‘Yer, and next you’ll have me growing me seedlings in rolled up newspaper. I do re-use all me plastic pots you know and,’ he said, whipping a crumpled-up, old bag from under her deckchair, ‘I also reuse plastic bags too.’

  Oh dear, struck a chord there. She always knew when she’d riled Jack; his West Country accent sounded more like Hagrid from Harry Potter.

  Jack went back to serving his customers and Pamela went back to impatiently f
licking through her magazine, wondering what time Audrey and Jean might put in an appearance.

  ‘There’s something I need to talk to you about,’ Jack said, thumping down in the deckchair next to hers and crossing his legs. He leaned in towards her and she was overcome with a foreboding feeling, but she had no idea why.

  Somewhere, in the pit of her stomach, she had an awful feeling Jack was going to tell her Jean wasn’t coming.

  ‘Oh?’ she asked, as nonchalantly as she could muster.

  ‘Yes, I can see you’re not really cut out for this serving lark—’

  ‘Hang on a minute, there hasn’t really been enough customers to warrant me getting up!’

  ‘No, I guess not.’ Jack nodded. ‘It’s just that I’ve done something a bit silly, really.’

  Pamela flung her hand to her mouth as she gasped. ‘Please don’t tell me you’ve contacted Edward? I really feel it’s best left to the solicitors.’

  ‘No!’ Jack laughed. ‘Crikey, compared to that this will sound like a walk in the park!’

  ‘What is it then? Is it about Jean? Has she phoned Mum and cancelled?’

  ‘No! Will you listen a minute, you’re all of a jitter.’

  ‘I take it you can recall our last encounter with Jean and Mike?’ She looked at him through narrowed eyes. ‘I didn’t speak to you for over a month after that.’

  Jack leant back in his chair and rolled his eyes. ‘For once this has nothing to do with your family!’ He leaned in and lowered his voice. ‘Johnnie wants to take Louise and the girls on holiday. Your mum’s helping out a bit in the tearooms at the moment—’

  ‘I don’t know where she gets her energy.’ Pamela bristled. ‘You’d think escaping that retirement home would have been enough for her, but no, she needs to go and get herself a job. She’s eighty-one!’

  ‘And fit as a flea. Anyway, as I was saying—’