by Lisa Hill
She looked back to see Edward hanging off her every word. There were times in her life she would have been thrilled to see him looking up at her like this, full of concern. The amount of times she’d been left crying at home, abandoned by him, not knowing where he was and deep down knowing he was lying in another woman’s bed. All her adult life she had sung to the tune of a man. The majority of it was Edward’s tune, but she was quick to start a relationship with Jack the moment Edward left. Now she had two fighting over her; she should feel empowered.
‘I am not a pawn to be fought over, you know,’ she said, sounding stronger than she felt. ‘I will show you, Jack, that this is one big mistake, but perhaps it’s you who should really feel worried. Has it ever occurred to either of you that I can stand on my own two feet? I might be sixty, but I’ve got a few good years left in me yet. Maybe they would be better spent on my own?’ And with a flourish of a hand, feeling like the winner of this game of chess, she confidently slammed the back door.
Chapter Fifty-Six
How could it be so wrong to be nestled in the comforting arms of a man, who wasn’t your husband, when it felt so totally, utterly, right?
Louise’s brain was telling her to move away but her body wasn’t complying. Instead, she stayed motionless, enjoying the caress of Duncan’s firm hand, stroking her neck, his hand trailing down her back, while her sobbing slowly ebbed away. Luckily no-one had walked into the stores to discover this open display of affection, but she wasn’t sure she even cared anymore. Duncan was giving her the one thing she craved; assurance. Something Johnnie seemed incapable of at the moment. Thinking of Johnnie, however, left a feeling of guilt stirring in her stomach and coming to her senses she reluctantly pulled away from the safety of Duncan’s arms.
He took her hand and squeezed it, as if he didn’t want their physical contact to end. ‘You can’t go on like this, Lou.’
Tears began swimming in her eyes again and she pulled her hands away from his to quickly wipe them away, leaving a bereft feeling as their touch ended.
‘It’s not that simple, is it?’ she whispered. ‘There’s the girls, the shop—’
‘Those will be the daughters currently rowing with their father in the back garden?’ Duncan said, beckoning towards the tearooms.
Wrapped up in her hurt and pain from Johnnie’s dismissal of her, and his demonstration of what was most important to him – then burying herself in Duncan’s welcoming arms – she hadn’t realised Johnnie had yet to leave and both girls had abandoned serving in the tearooms.
‘Oh heck, I’d better see what’s going on.’ She scurried down the aisle towards the archway and stopped. ‘Hang on,’ she said, turning around. ‘You must have come in for something?’
Duncan dug his hands deep into his jeans pockets, looking like a shy teenager as he bent his head and his thick, black hair fell in one lock in front of his face.
He looked up. ‘Just to see you,’ he smiled, coyly. ‘I felt like you were avoiding me on Saturday night.’
It took every fibre in her body not to run back towards him.
‘Duncan, I’m married.’ Her voice trembled as she spoke.
‘Happily married?’
‘Still married,’ she whispered.
His smile fell, and he nodded. ‘Understood.’ And with that he turned and slowly walked towards the shop door, shoulders slumped.
If it was possible to feel like your heart was breaking, this was the moment Louise discovered it. She had never experienced a feeling where emotional pain was causing actual, physical pain, right in the middle of her ribcage. Part of her wanted to run after Duncan, the other part could hear the argument in the garden becoming louder and louder and as she turned to see what was going on, she could see a crowd of customers gathering by the French doors.
Without thinking, she dashed through the archway, snaking her way through the tables in the tearooms towards the gathered onlookers.
‘Excuse me!’ she said, parting villagers eager for gossip out of the way, praying none of them had seen her moment with Duncan in the stores. ‘If you haven’t been served yet, my daughters will be with you any second!’ Louise trilled, as she scurried up the garden path to where Cerys was waving her arms and Megan had hers folded, mirroring Johnnie’s pose.
‘What is going on?’ Louise hissed.
‘We’re just giving Dad a few home truths,’ Cerys said, not allowing her glowering gaze on Johnnie to falter.
Johnnie turned to Louise. ‘It is true, that you are unhappy?’
‘Oh for goodness sakes, Dad, isn’t it plain to see?’ Cerys snapped.
Johnnie stared, open mouthed, at Louise.
‘Apparently not,’ Cerys muttered.
‘Lou?’ Johnnie asked.
I will not cry, I will not cry.
‘It’s been a bit,’ she shrugged, ‘strained, recently, hasn’t it?’
‘We’ve just come back from a lovely holiday, in Italy!’ Johnnie argued.
‘A lovely holiday for who?’ Cerys asked.
‘Cerys!’ Megan remonstrated.
Louise supressed a smile. It was funny how Megan was placatory like Louise, and Cerys was combative like Johnnie, and yet here were the two most alike at loggerheads.
‘Yes, Cerys,’ Louise stepped in, ‘perhaps now isn’t the time.’ She turned and pointed down the garden. ‘We have quite an audience.’ None of the customers had done as she suggested and returned to their tables. They were all still gathered around, like watching animals at the zoo.
‘Oh for Christ’s sakes, girls, look at the idle gossipers!’ Johnnie shouted.
‘Dad,’ Megan said, firmly, ‘do you not realise that it is this sort of aggressive, and yet dismissive, attitude which is driving us all away?’
Silence. Louise could feel a ringing in her ears, like a car alarm going off, ringing out a warning that the unspoken between the four of them had just been verbalised.
‘I don’t know what you mean.’ Johnnie blustered.
‘We’ve watched you and Mum rowing for months.’ Cerys’ voice was calmer now. ‘As far as we can see, it all stems from VOCAB restarting, but—’
‘Well, you can blame Edward Hardwicke for that, and…’
‘Dad!’ Everyone jumped as Megan raised her voice. ‘Can’t you take responsibility for some of this? Your obsession with that Hardwicke development isn’t just driving Mum away, it’s driving us away too!’
More silence. Louise felt paralysed with shock at her daughters putting her feelings into words.
Johnnie looked sceptically at Louise. ‘Did you put them up to this?’
‘Dad!’ Megan cried, ‘can’t you hear what we’re telling you? Why would Mum put us up to it?’
Johnnie shook his head. ‘Fine. I respect how you all feel…’ he hesitated, evidently searching for the right word, ‘disappointed in me, but I’ll show you.’ He raised his hand, index finger pointing at all of them. ‘If we don’t stop this development, our livelihood is on the line, and I for one—’
‘Oh, will you give it a break!’ Cerys shouted, putting her hands over her face. ‘No-one’s proposing Tesco opens up in the village, are they? This is more a matter of principle for you isn’t it? Not letting Edward Hardwicke and his capitalist ways win!’
Louise watched on, marvelling how they had raised such an intelligent and perceptive sixteen-year-old.
‘Please, Dad,’ Megan urged, ‘people are watching us. Shall we discuss this calmly later?’
Johnnie raked his hands through his bouncy locks. ‘Yes, I need to get going, anyway.’
‘Of course, you do,’ Cerys muttered.
‘Cerys,’ Louise remonstrated. ‘Go on girls, before the customers go down the pub for their refreshments.’
Both girls turned and hurried in their floaty summer frocks and aprons, back down the garden.
Johnnie fixed Louise with an accusatory stare. ‘And do you feel as passionately as them?’
‘I thought we agreed to car
ry this conversation on later?’
His jaw clenched. ‘I’ll take that as a ‘yes’, then.’
Louise took a deep breath to prevent herself launching into a tirade which would keep their audience hanging on a bit longer.
‘You’ve really hurt me, Lou,’ Johnnie spat. ‘After everything I’ve been doing for us, for the girls, for our future!’
It was like the girls had loaded the gun and he’d pulled the trigger.
‘And what future will that be if none of us are speaking to each other?’ she spat back, before turning and storming back down the garden, afraid of what else she might say, if she had given herself the opportunity.
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Lottie dragged a begrudging Sky down Vicarage Lane, wearing her biggest pair of dark sunglasses and nervously glancing over her shoulder. The driveway to the Old Rectory sneaked into view with no cars at home.
‘Bingo,’ she whispered to Sky.
‘Yoohoo!’ A voice called out. She looked up the lane to see Tom, of all people, walking down in a pair of shorts, t-shirt and Havaianas, waving at her.
‘Grrr, just what I don’t need,’ she said, waving over enthusiastically whilst she pinned a false smile to her face. She had chosen lunchtime hoping Edward was either at one of the Hardwickes offices or at the golf club, but he could return home at any moment.
They met outside the driveway of the Old Rectory.
‘You don’t look very suitably dressed for walking the dog,’ Tom said, looking down at Lottie’s summery work dress, to her wedged, peep-toe sandals.
‘You don’t look suitably dressed for a stroll in the countryside.’ Lottie raised an eyebrow down at Tom’s flipflops.
Tom looked behind him. ‘Been up to Clundyke Farm to speak with Farmer Cox about putting the sheep out to graze on the land at Clunderton Hall.’
Lottie nodded, not really in the mood to make small talk. She was too anxious about what she had planned.
‘What are you up to?’ Tom said, following her gaze to Pamela and Edward’s home.
‘Oh, nothing,’ Lottie said, far too quickly. ‘Just giving Sky a quick bit of exercise on my lunchbreak,’ she averted her gaze, knowing all too well Tom would know she was lying.
‘Bit hot to be taking her for a walk, isn’t it?’
They both looked down at a panting Sky. Lottie waved the water bottle she was carrying for Sky. ‘Oh, she loves her walks and Dad’s left her to go to an auction near Scarborough today.’
Tom nodded, digging his hands deep into the pockets of his shorts. ‘I miss this.’ He grinned.
‘Miss what?’
‘This; you and I, up to no good.’
‘I beg your pardon!’ Lottie blustered. ‘I’m a happily married woman, as well you know.’
‘A happily married woman, taking her retired father’s dog out for a walk, in the middle of a hot day, past an empty property she could easily walk through the churchyard in less than five minutes to access, in a pair of high heels.’ Tom grinned at Lottie. ‘I know when you’re up to no good, Lottie Hardwicke; it’s written all over your face.’
Lottie screwed her face up. ‘Busted.’
‘So, what are we up to?’ Tom grinned.
Lottie’s shoulders slumped. ‘It’s Dad, he’s like a bear with a sore head.’
‘I heard he’d split up with Pamela.’
Lottie rolled her eyes. Nothing was sacred in this village. ‘Yes, well, he’s driving us mad and Pamela’s got Audrey climbing the walls at Church End, while Edward pads around in this place,’ Lottie nodded in the direction of the Old Rectory, ‘scot-free. It’s been going on for weeks but Dad’s a sanctimonious old fart, too stubborn for his own good and Pamela doesn’t seem to be able to convince Dad how sorry she is, so I’m—’
‘Staging an intervention?’
Lottie blushed. ‘No, I’m just—’
‘Doing what you always do and interfering? You do recall where interfering got you with Pamela last year?’
Lottie pursed her lips together and scowled at Tom. ‘And if I hadn’t intervened with you and Jude?’
‘Hmmm.’ Tom had the decency to look chided. ‘So, what’s your plan?’
Lottie frantically looked around the fields. ‘Oh God, there’s not going to be a photographer lurking around here somewhere? I can’t get caught disappearing into a property with you, even Drew won’t believe me then!’
‘Relax, the press isn’t interested in me now I’m happily married again.’
‘Yes, you are happily married. Best you get off home to your wife and leave me to get on with what I came to do.’
‘And what’s that exactly?’
‘Find some hard evidence of Edward’s lies.’
‘Well, what are you waiting for?’ Tom said, putting his best foot forward up the driveway. ‘I’m not missing out on having that bastard over; it’s about time he got what was coming to him.’
‘Okay,’ Lottie said, nervously tottering after him, dragging a reluctant Sky along after her, as if she was trying to warn Lottie this was a bad idea.
***
‘Can I get you another coffee?’ Audrey asked, picking up Louise’s empty mug and placing it in the dishwasher.
‘Oh, that’s very kind thank you, but I’ll be hallucinating if I have any more caffeine,’ Louise said, looking up from the sugar craft flowers she was making for Rebecca and James’ wedding cake, in the kitchen, at the stores. Over a month had passed since hers and Johnnie’s monumental – not to mention very public - row in front of the village and things were beginning to change. Perhaps it was the girls having a go at him which had finally brought him to his senses, but he was giving her the time she needed to dedicate to her special occasion cakes. The leads she’d secured from Jude and Tom’s wedding had come to fruition and her diary was beginning to fill up with consultations, not only for weddings but for birthdays and baby showers too. Only, four weeks tomorrow Rebecca and James were getting married, which was what was preoccupying her mind most at the moment.
And a welcome distraction from the person who perpetually occupied her thoughts.
‘Oh, they do look beautiful,’ Audrey said, peering over. ‘So, real! Are they lisianthus?’
‘Yes,’ Louise said, flatly.
‘Delicate flowers, aren’t they?’
‘Yes,’ Louise said flatly, again. Rebecca couldn’t have chosen a more intricate flower if she’d tried in Louise’s opinion, but the customer was always right so she would have to grin and bear it. Compared to the time spent on Jude and Tom’s cake it was a doddle.
‘So, can we expect to see something similar in her bouquet?’ Audrey asked, casually.
Louise laughed and dropped her indent tool. ‘Audrey, you are so bad at that!’
‘At what?’ Audrey asked, pursing her lips.
‘At being nosey! How on earth you produced a daughter like Pamela; she’d get the information out of you without you even knowing you’d imparted it.’
‘Well,’ Audrey said, leaning on the steel, catering table in the middle of the kitchen, ‘she had plenty of time to learn from the master being married to Edward; he’s got A-levels in interrogation.’
‘Hellooo, only me!’ The double doors swung open and there stood Pamela waving some A5 flyers in her hands, dressed like she was going to a wedding in a pale-pink, skirt suit and cream Chanel handbag. ‘Who’s got A-levels in interrogation?’
‘Another thing she learnt from him,’ Audrey said, flatly, ‘eavesdropping. You’re not allowed in here, you’re not staff.’ Audrey chided Pamela.
‘Johnnie said I’d find you in here. Oh, those are beautiful!’ Pamela said, click-clacking over in her heels to inspect Louise’s sugar craft.
‘Shouldn’t you be at a suit fitting?’ Audrey asked, evidently not enjoying her daughter’s invasion of what she perceived to be her personal space.
‘I decided not to go, seeing Edward will be there.’
‘Oh, Pammie.’ Audrey tapped Pamela o
n the shoulder. ‘He’s going to be at the wedding; you’re going to have to get used to seeing him.’
Louise watched Pamela wince as some emotional pain evidently wrangled on the inside. ‘This was meant to be my wedding cake,’ Pamela said, focusing on the sugar lisianthus.
‘Sorry.’ Louise found herself twiddling her crafting tool, feeling uncomfortable.
‘It’s not your fault, dear, it’s my own stupidity!’ Pamela said, sounding more upbeat. ‘It was silly trying to plan a wedding when I wasn’t even divorced; I can see that now.’
‘Fetch me my diary, I must write this down; it was Pammie’s fault.’
Pamela tutted. ‘She thinks I’m mad for giving up on Jack,’ Pamela said to Louise.
‘You don’t get many men like him to the dozen,’ said Audrey.
‘No, which is why I’m here with these.’ Pamela slapped the flyers down on the table.
Louise and Audrey peered over the table to look at the printed A5 pieces of paper.
‘A protest?’ Audrey looked between the flyer and Pamela. ‘Are you mad? You’ll have to find something a bit less casual than what you’re wearing today to go to a protest in a muddy field.’
‘It hasn’t rained for weeks, Mother.’
Louise supressed a smile, but it was nice to know that even when you were eighty-one and sixty, the mother-daughter relationship didn’t really change much to what she had with her own daughters at forty-two.
‘Is this your plan to win Jack over?’ Audrey asked, taking her reading spectacles out of her apron pocket to take a proper look.
Pamela ruffled the back of her immaculately sculpted bob. ‘Perhaps and perhaps not; perhaps I’m just doing it for me.’
‘She’s not,’ Audrey said, over the rim of her spectacles to Louise. ‘She’s doing it to annoy Edward and win Jack back.’
‘Not everything in life, Mother, is about men.’
‘Well, it’s always been where—’
‘I must say,’ Louise interjected, feeling like she wanted to avoid the ensuing domestic, ‘you are looking rather, er…’ she searched for the right word, ‘impressive, Pamela.’