Heart in the Right Home

by Lisa Hill

  Jean continued to appraise Pamela, making her feel even more uncomfortable. ‘So, what are you going to do?’ she asked again.

  Pamela shook her head. ‘I really don’t know.’

  Jean shifted in her seat and wiped perspiration from her brow. ‘Way I see it, you’ve got two choices. Focus on Edward and his mind games, or focus and Jack and get this divorce sorted.’

  Pamela looked at Jean sceptically. ‘What if he really is dying?’

  ‘Then he’ll be dead soon enough. Not soon enough for my liking,’ she muttered. ‘So, what’s it to be?’

  Pamela put her hand to her forehead to avert the sun from her eyes. ‘Jack every time,’ she said, without a moment’s hesitation.

  ‘Then make it happen.’

  Pamela’s shoulders slumped. ‘That’s the problem; I really don’t know how.’

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  Edward looked out of the window of James’ office over the gardens of Montpellier, where cars were whizzing down West Park and shooting off down the hill towards the Pump Rooms. People going places, friends and colleagues to meet, things to do. What did he have to do? Work, work, work; it was all he’d ever known. But where had it got him? He’d messed it up with Pam by getting involved with Rebecca, he realised that now. In fact, he’d realised it the day they told him he had prostate cancer and he’d spent the past few months figuring out how to get her back.

  He’d fucked that up monumentally too.

  It wasn’t that he wasn’t going to die from the cancer eventually, perhaps just not as quickly as he might have let on. His cancer, although spread to other regions of his body, was under control, or so the doctors said, and he could, with the right medication, live another decade. So why hadn’t he told anyone this? Because, as always, he wanted to have his cake and eat it. He wanted his old life back and that included Pam. He thought he could play on her emotions, give her the guilt trip, but where had that got him? Padding about in that vacuous house with no Pam, no family interested in visiting him, feeling old and alone. The only house guests he’d received were his odious sister-in-law, Jean and her oafish husband Mike, who had descended yesterday, only to give Edward a piece of their minds; no more than he deserved, and the worst thing was that Jean’s lecture on how he’d treated Pam rang true and was, most probably, why he was feeling so melancholy today.

  The door swung open and Edward turned to see James scuttling to his desk with some brochures under his arm. ‘Oh, it’s you,’ he said, briefly scanning Edward’s frame overshadowing the window, as he tapped his keyboard to bring his laptop to life.

  ‘Good morning to you too, James,’ Edward said, sitting down in one of the metal framed chairs opposite James’ desk.

  So many times, he had stood in this office, lecturing Drew. Now, Drew had given him the ultimate two-fingers-up by opening a rival agent and James was quickly taking over the reins in running his empire singlehandedly. Not only was Edward feeling lonely, he was feeling redundant too.

  ‘Hello,’ James said, glancing at his watch. ‘Actually, you were on the list of people I needed to see today. I thought you’d be at the golf club by now.’

  ‘My life doesn’t just consist of business and golf you know.’

  ‘No, women, business, lunching and golf.’

  ‘Touché. It’s business I’ve come to talk to you about, actually.’

  ‘What the fact that you’ve had planning approved?’ James kept tapping away at his laptop.

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘Most of the village knows thanks to Jack; you weren’t very discreet, were you?’

  ‘That infernal man!’ Excitement that word had got around the village, and was already causing a stir, mingled with anger that not only had Jack stolen his wife, but he was spoiling for a fight over the development too. ‘Why are you being so waspy, anyway?’

  James stopped typing and with a big sigh, detached himself from his laptop. ‘Look, I’m sorry, but I don’t particularly want to find out confidential information about the business from idle gossip around the village.’

  ‘He didn’t know who I was talking to in the field. It could have been a farmer for all he knew, arranging to graze his cattle,’ Edward lied.

  ‘On frazzled grass ready for hay making?’ James clasped his hands together on the desk and raised a sceptical eyebrow.

  Edward clicked his fingers together. ‘What a good idea; we could make some money out of that grass before it’s dug up. I’ll go and see old boy Cox at Clundyke Farm on the way home.’

  James shook his head. ‘Never miss a trick, do you? Only it wasn’t easy for Jack to mistake an architect when he was holding a great big scaled drawing, was there? Especially when Tristan went on to introduce himself!’

  Busted. Deny everything; that had always been Edward’s line of defence. He frowned. ‘Not that I recall. Anyway, I did try phoning you Saturday afternoon, but you didn’t return my calls. And,’ he hurried on, ‘I didn’t invite you to meet with the architect because your bed at home was unslept in, so I assumed you were busy with Rebecca.’

  James nodded. He looked out the window as if he had something monumental to say. He wasn’t like Drew; he was far more cocksure of himself. Therefore, whatever he had to say was monumental. Edward just hoped James hadn’t come across any correspondence from the hospital…

  ‘Go on, spit it out,’ Edward said, impatiently. ‘You’ve already said you needed to see me.’

  He turned his gaze away from the window and looked Edward straight in the eyes. ‘We’re getting married.’

  Bam. That one really did knock the wind out of his sails. He should never have developed such affection for Rebecca as he did. He would never admit it verbally, but Jack had been right in telling him to let her go. Now she was to have her happy ending.

  And he was to have his comeuppance.

  He cleared his throat. ‘Congratulations,’ he said, his voice straining to force the word out.

  James visibly relaxed. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘I have no doubt you’ll be very happy together.’ Edward returned to gazing out the window, to the view he had been looking at before James had entered. People whizzing around in cars, going about their business, walking in and out of Harrogate with purpose. What purpose did he have? One son left the business, the other getting married, his wife back in the bosom of her family.

  ‘You are okay with it, aren’t you?’ James asked.

  Edward returned his attention to James. ‘Why wouldn’t I be? You deserve to be happy and so does she. I shouldn’t have—’

  James raised his hand. ‘We don’t need to go there; that’s all in the past. I’ve told Drew he can leave those sorts of jokes out of his best man’s speech too.’

  They laughed and for once Edward felt relaxed, at home. It was a strange feeling these days.

  ‘I don’t have to come,’ he said, ‘if it’ll be awkward.’

  ‘Well, I’d like you there.’ James looked directly at him, and Edward knew his son was being honest.

  ‘Thank you,’ he said, swallowing hard. What was coming over him? Edward Hardwicke didn’t do emotion. ‘Have you set a date?’

  ‘Yes, the fourteenth of September?’

  ‘Next year?’

  ‘No, in eight weeks. Jack and Mum have put their plans on hold.’

  ‘Oh?’ Edward tried to keep the sound of hope out of his voice. ‘Why’s that?’

  James scowled. ‘I think you know exactly why that is.’

  Edward smiled, trying hard to stop it becoming a smirk. There was hope yet. She wasn’t marrying Jack Sellwood…well, she couldn’t without a divorce, could she? He could win his Pamela back after all.

  Until she found out he wasn’t dying quite as quickly as he had previously maintained.

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  ‘I’m off to the council offices then,’ Johnnie said, casting a shadow over Louise who was sitting in the garden, sketching out some designs for Rebecca and James’ wedding cak
e. It was scary to think they’d just got engaged, but the wedding was only eight weeks away; she needed them to agree on the design so she could get started on the sugar craft, especially if they were hoping for something elaborate.

  ‘Hmmm?’ Louise paused from sketching on her pad.

  ‘That looks good; is that the Hardwicke wedding cake?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said, smiling down at what she’d drawn so far. She loved being creative, it was such a release. She hadn’t once thought about Duncan.

  ‘Any news on the catering deal?’

  Louise’s jaw clenched. Everything was money to Johnnie. ‘Rebecca’s asked me to put a few sample dishes together for them to taste test, then they’ll choose the menu. I said I’d probably get them in one evening this week.’

  ‘Oh great, so we’ve got the contract then?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Oooh, well done Lou.’ He patted her on the shoulder like an obedient Labrador.

  ‘Who’s manning the till?’ Louise asked, peering down the garden to where Megan and Cerys were busy in the tearooms, serving and clearing away tables.

  ‘That’s why I came out here. I need you to.’

  ‘What?’ Louise’s shoulders shot up around her ears as all that pent-up stress she’d been releasing whilst sketching immediately returned to the surface.

  ‘I’ve got to go down the council offices. Find out what’s going on with this planning permission.’

  ‘Got to or want to?’ Louise asked, sulkily.

  ‘Oh, don’t be like that Lou, this is important.’

  Louise stood up and tucked her sketch pad under her arm. She looked up at Johnnie, like she was squaring up for a fight. She could have easily punched him in the face, the way she was feeling at the moment.

  ‘To you, Johnnie. It’s important to you,’ she said, storming off down the garden. This was her first day off, so to speak, since the girls had sat her down yesterday and said they wanted to help. She’d still got up and done the baking, but the rest of the day was to concentrate on her new business; the one Johnnie was apparently keen to support and develop. Tears began to escape down her cheeks in trails and she quickened her pace through the French doors.

  ‘Mum? What’s wrong?’ Megan asked.

  ‘Oh, nothing,’ Louise said, abruptly halting and grabbing a napkin to dab her face. ‘Just your father being your father; apparently I need to look after the stores while he goes to the council offices.’

  ‘What?’ Megan said. ‘Why?’

  ‘That bloody development,’ Louise said, knowing how bitter she sounded.

  ‘Oh, for crying out loud!’ Cerys slammed the tray down she was carrying.

  ‘Cerys!’ Louise remonstrated, but Cerys wasn’t listening. Instead she was storming up the garden, much the way Louise had impatiently stormed down it.

  ‘Do you want me to cover the stores?’ Megan asked, already looking flustered after just one morning managing the tearooms.

  Louise smiled. Someone cared. ‘No love, you’re doing enough already. I’ll carry on with my wedding cake design between serving.’

  Megan surveyed her sceptically. Poor child; she may be eighteen, but she was still young. It couldn’t be nice to see your parents constantly rowing.

  ‘Okay, if you’re sure.’

  ‘Sure,’ Louise said, turning away and scrunching her eyes up to try and prevent more tears. It was no good; Johnnie was becoming such a let-down. She wanted to make their marriage work, but it was getting harder and harder to even think nice thoughts about him. She felt so hurt!

  Blurry-eyed, she stumbled through the archway, hoping no customers saw her in such a sorry state; it would be around the village in next to no time. That Louise at the stores was crying this morning; wonder if she’s pregnant? I hear her and Johnnie keep having a two-and-eight. Why did it matter to her what people thought? Furiously blinking back her tears, she realised she wasn’t alone. A familiar figure was standing by the till, waiting to be served.

  He turned. ‘I could’ve been away with the contents of this the till, the length of time it’s been unmanned,’ Duncan said, those twinkly eyes dancing to tell her he was teasing.

  ‘I’m sorry, oh…’ she sobbed, before breaking into full-on tears.

  Before she knew what was happening, he was striding towards her, pulling her towards him, tucking her head under his chin and stroking her hair.

  ‘I’ll get mascara on your shirt,’ she sobbed, taking in the comforting smell of his fabric conditioner, finding that although her brain was telling her she should pull away, her body didn’t want to.

  ***

  Pamela was sitting in the garden, again. This prolonged, hot summer spell still hadn’t broken, and it was utterly depressing. She wanted some stormy rain to reflect her mood. She should be doing gardening with Jack, or visiting Castle Howard for a day trip, or venturing as far as Whitby for fish and chips. Instead, she was flicking through magazines underneath Lottie’s parasol, taking nothing in and instead, constantly racking her brains on how to prove to Jack just how sorry she was and how much she missed him. She thought perhaps the fact she had now vacated the Old Rectory might prove a point, but apparently not. When she’d called in to Church Cottage this morning to see if Lottie wanted her to walk Cam and Eve to school, Jack had raised his newspaper so that he couldn’t see her. Audrey had suggested Pamela came with her on the weekly bus to York, to take her mind off of things, but she hadn’t much fancied sitting with a load of pensioners – even if she wasn’t far off being one herself – nattering on about grandchildren and knitting patterns while she stared out the window with the same thoughts filling her head. She needed a plan, but it was totally escaping her.

  ‘Ooooh!’ she said, throwing Yorkshire Life across the patio furniture. She watched as it landed in patch of Jack’s prize-winning chrysanthemums.

  ‘Temper, temper.’

  Pamela looked up to see Edward standing there.

  ‘Argh!’ Her hand flew to her chest. What was it with people creeping up on her? Jean yesterday, Edward today; hadn’t these people heard of doorbells? ‘What do you want?’

  ‘Charming,’ he said, sitting down opposite her. ‘I came to check how you are.’

  ‘Fine,’ she bristled.

  ‘Are you coming home?’

  Pamela had sent Drew around to fetch as many of her clothes and toiletries as he could stuff into two overnight cases. She didn’t have half the things she could do with, but she was damned if she was stepping back over the threshold of the Old Rectory without Jack by her side.

  ‘This is my home now.’

  ‘Pah! And how does your mother feel about that?’

  ‘Relieved I’m not under the influence of you, I would imagine.’

  Edward winced. ‘That annexe is tiny; you’ll be getting on each other’s nerves in next to no time.’

  Pamela crossed her arms and silently fumed. He was right, but she was damned if she was giving him the satisfaction of agreeing with him.

  They sat in silence staring out over the fields towards York, her with her arms still folded, him spinning a coaster around on the table. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask him again what he really wanted when he finally spoke.

  ‘I actually came to ask you if you fancied coming out to lunch with me. Planning’s been approved on the development, I thought you might like to come and celebrate with me.’

  Her jaw dropped open. All the meetings Jack had gone to, to oppose the development and here was Edward suggesting they went out to celebrate!

  ‘Edward, I—’

  ‘Well, this looks very cosy, doesn’t it?’

  Her head turned to see Jack standing at the back door of Church Cottage, hands on his chino-clad hips, shaking his head.

  ‘Although, I see you haven’t got as far as drinks yet. Perhaps I should put the kettle on?’ he asked, his voice full of sarcasm.

  ‘I was just about to take Pam out to lunch, to celebrate,’ Edward crooned.

&
nbsp; Pamela leapt up. ‘No, you weren’t! You’d invited me, but I hadn’t accepted.’

  ‘We were going out to celebrate my granting of planning.’ A broad grin spread across Edward’s face.

  ‘Whatever you say,’ Jack said, clearly not rising to Edward’s goading bait. Instead he turned to go back indoors, shoulders slumped, looking defeated.

  Something stirred in Pamela. It came from deep down in her chest. She was pretty sure it was a feeling which had been nestling there for many, many years. Way before she even knew Jack. It definitely emanated from being trod on by Edward one too many times.

  ‘Will you both listen!’ she shrieked.

  Jack stopped in his tracks and turned around, a look of surprise on his face at this sudden outburst.

  ‘I am not some toy to be argued over; I am a real person, with real feelings! And whatever you think of me, Jack—’ she looked at Jack, pleadingly ‘—I invited Edward to stay with us out of pity. Because he’s got cancer.’ Her voice wobbled, and she swallowed hard to maintain her composure. ‘That was it! Not—’ she looked directly at Edward, ‘—because I have any feelings for him still. Not those type of feelings anyway. At this moment, Edward, I could merrily strangle you!’ She looked between the two men, watching their reactions. ‘I did not want to go out for lunch with you, all I want to do is prove to Jack that I am sorry.’ She turned to Jack again, her whole body trembling. ‘And I will prove it to you, Jack, and thanks to both of you and your bickering, I think I know exactly how!’

  ‘Well, good luck to you!’ Jack shouted. ‘Because while he’s still around,’ he stabbed a finger at Edward, ‘I’m not having anything to do with the pair of you!’

  Edward laughed. ‘You don’t know what you’re giving up, Jack.’

  ‘No, and you only know what you’ve lost because you treated her so abominably in the first place.’

  ‘Oh, will you both shut up!’ Pamela shouted, standing up and rushing to the back door of Church End. She turned back to face them both. ‘Edward, you’ve got months to live; why don’t you go and spend them wisely, with people who actually care about you!’