Summer in the Orchard (Little Somerby)

by Fay Keenan

  They swayed gently to the music, both still a little bit tense. ‘I’ve always loved jazz,’ Joe murmured. ‘I know that’s probably not cool to admit, but…’

  ‘Granddad loved it too,’ Meredith replied. ‘That’s why we got this band in tonight. They usually don’t come this far out of Bristol, but they had such good reviews that we persuaded them to play this gig in the end.’

  ‘Good choice,’ Joe replied.

  They swayed in silence for a few more beats, neither quite knowing where to take the conversation next. It felt nice, though, Meredith thought, to be held by someone again. The fact that it was Joe, who had, unsurprisingly given his job, filled out in all the right places, was an added bonus.

  As the music stopped, they broke apart again, unsure what happened next. Meredith noticed, to her pleasure, that Joe kept an arm around her waist.

  ‘Now can I get you another drink?’ Joe asked, as a rather more upbeat choice of song started.

  Meredith nodded. ‘Yup. And I think I know where I’d like to drink it, too.’

  A little time later, they were sitting on top of one of the oak vats in the barn, working their way down a bottle of sparkling cider. Meredith was stunned at just how easy Joe was to talk to after his initial antagonism towards her.

  ‘So, do you like training to be a tree surgeon?’ she asked. She could feel the effects of the sparkling cider, but wasn’t too far gone to be aware of sitting thirty feet in the air on top of an antique vat.

  ‘It’s all I’ve ever wanted to do,’ Joe replied. ‘Mum loved trees. She used to take me to Westonbirt Arboretum when I was little, and I loved seeing the colours in the autumn, and the greens in the spring.’ He shook his head. ‘Dad and I scattered her ashes there. It was where she seemed most alive. I was eight when she died.’

  Meredith’s eyes filled with tears. She’d known, of course, about Joe losing his mother at such an early age, but somehow, he’d been so out of her orbit socially that they’d never really discussed it. Just as Patrick’s friendship had been a rock for her own father to lean against when Meredith’s mother had left, so Matthew had been for Patrick a few years later when his wife had been taken from him unexpectedly.

  ‘It must have been so hard for you,’ Meredith said softly. ‘She died so suddenly.’

  Joe smiled sadly. ‘She had an aneurism. Doesn’t give you any time to think, really, until afterwards. I went from being sad to very, very angry, and that lasted a long time. School didn’t like me very much; I didn’t like me very much. But then, when I got to GCSEs, I suddenly had a plan. I knew Mum wouldn’t want me chucking my education away because she was gone, and that’s when I decided what I wanted to do with my life.’ He swallowed. ‘Dad was brilliant, though. He didn’t have a clue what to do with me for a while, but I think it helped that I was a boy; as I got older, we could help each other through it. Then, when I was old enough to start making choices about my future, I broke the news to Dad about the tree surgeon thing.’

  ‘How did he take it?’

  ‘Not very well,’ Joe said wryly, taking another sip from his glass. ‘He really wanted me to get away from here, get away from the memories, and be the first in the family to get a degree. I got the grades, but I didn’t want to go that way. I mean, who wants to end up with fifty grand’s worth of debt and no prospect of a job at the end of it? And, this is going to sound really weird, but just before I made the decision to apply for the course at Cannington, I went up to Westonbirt again. It was like the trees were calling to me, like Mum was saying it was OK, that I should follow my heart and do it.’ He swallowed another gulp of the cider. ‘And that was it. I took up the place, then, when I’d finished the course, I got the job back here.’

  ‘And apart from nearly smacking me with a branch, you seem to be doing really well.’ Meredith smiled, trying to disguise how touched she was that he’d confided so much in her.

  ‘To be fair, that was more your fault than mine,’ Joe replied.

  ‘You were the one holding the chainsaw.’ Meredith gave him a little nudge with her elbow, but the cider was having more of an effect than she’d realised and she overbalanced, nearly ending up in his lap.

  ‘Careful,’ Joe said, helping her to sit back up again. There was an almost imperceptible pause.

  ‘I’m a bit pissed,’ Meredith said, focussing her gaze on Joe’s clear blue eyes to try to ground herself.

  ‘Really?’ Joe replied softly. ‘I hadn’t noticed.’ Then, remembering where they were sitting, he shifted. ‘We should probably get off the top of this giant barrel before you fall off.’

  ‘I’ve been coming up here since I was a kid,’ Meredith said. ‘I’m fine.’

  ‘I’m sure,’ Joe said. ‘But just to be on the safe side, why don’t we carry on talking when we get back to ground level?’

  ‘Are you afraid of heights?’ Meredith teased as he stood up and held out a hand to help her to her feet.

  ‘Wouldn’t be much of a tree surgeon if I was,’ Joe replied.

  Meredith had stood up so that she’d ended up very close to Joe again, and he still had hold of her hand. She chanced a look up at him, and found to her surprise that her mouth seemed to have a will of its own. Standing on tiptoe, swaying slightly from the effects of the cider, she placed a very gentle kiss on Joe’s lips. He stiffened at the contact, but then seemed to relax into the moment, and she was pleased to feel the pressure of her own lips returned.

  ‘I’m having a lovely time,’ she whispered, as their lips parted again.

  Joe drew her closer to him once more, and slid his arms around her. Their second kiss was deeper, slower, more leisurely. Meredith forgot, for a moment, that they were standing on a wooden barrel thirty feet in the air, and began to relax into his arms.

  ‘Crikey,’ she said as they broke apart again. ‘I’m having a lovelier time now.’

  ‘Me too,’ Joe said. His pupils had dilated with the sheer pleasure of the kiss, and Meredith could feel his heart hammering against her own. ‘But now I really do feel dizzy. How about we continue this on the ground?’

  ‘Probably best,’ Meredith murmured. ‘I think I could do with a glass of water. Or six.’

  Breaking apart a little to clamber back onto the steel gantry that ran around the top of the cider vats, they rejoined their hands as they wandered back down the steel steps, but neither felt too inclined to get back into the thick of the party. Maybe it was the cider, or perhaps the fact that Joe had confided in her, but Meredith was definitely feeling a rush of attraction. So soon after Flynn, she’d never thought it would happen, but she didn’t stop to think about it too closely. Live in the moment, she thought. And this was a very nice moment.

  ‘Do you want to walk me home?’ she said as they came out of the barn. She swayed on her feet.

  ‘I think that would be a very good idea.’ Joe slid an arm around her waist to steady her. ‘I don’t think your dad would be too happy if he saw you like this.’

  ‘Better make sure he doesn’t, then.’ Meredith let her head drop onto Joe’s shoulder.

  ‘Oh, no, you don’t!’ Joe chided gently, nudging Meredith back upright. ‘One foot in front of the other.’

  They ambled back to Cowslip Barn, and by the time they’d got back, Meredith was swaying less on her feet. Stopping by the back door of the house, she leaned upwards and kissed Joe’s lips again, but before she could draw closer to him, he’d gently disentangled her arms from around his neck.

  ‘Steady,’ he said softly. ‘I think you need that glass of water.’

  Meredith gave a lopsided smile. ‘Don’t you want to kiss me again?’

  Joe’s hand in the small of Meredith’s back lingered, warm and firm. ‘You’ve no idea how much I want to. But I want to make sure you know that you want to, too.’

  ‘I do!’ Meredith, prone to bolshiness on the rare occasions when she’d drunk too much, protested. ‘Can’t you tell?’

  Joe shook his head. ‘Then let’s try it again
when we’re both sober.’

  ‘Spoilsport,’ Meredith muttered, but she let Joe lead her in through the back door, settle her on the sofa in the corner of the kitchen with a glass of water, and put the kettle on for some coffee. By the time the kettle had boiled, though, she’d fallen asleep on the sofa. When she woke, a couple of hours later, she found herself wrapped in a warm blanket, with a cushion under her head. A stone cold cup of coffee, a pint glass of water and a couple of paracetamol were next to her on the side table, and a note from Joe next to it which read:

  Text me, if you want to, when your headache’s gone.

  Grimacing as she felt the thump, thump, thump of a cider induced hangover encroaching on her brow, she swallowed the pills, finished the water and then poured the coffee down the sink. Looking at the kitchen clock and realising it was long after midnight, she assumed that Anna and her father had returned from the party and decided to let her sleep; the sofa was very comfortable, after all. She let Sefton, the family’s border collie, out into the back garden for a last pee and then slunk off to bed. Thanking her lucky stars that Joe had seen her to her door and made sure she was OK, she thought about the way the evening had turned out. Perhaps she would call him some time, when it didn’t feel as if there were elephants tap dancing in her brain.

  30

  Sophie was sure she wasn’t imagining it, but she and Alex were definitely walking faster. It was as though both of them were gripped with an intensity they couldn’t quite understand. There was a tension in the air between them, deeper than their nights at the Royal West Country Show, and seemingly tangible in the warm night. As she slotted her front door key in the lock, she glanced back at Alex, whose eyes were so dark they looked almost black. She felt a shiver run down her spine, and the second the door was open, she pulled him through it. She leaned back against the wall of the hallway as Alex kicked the front door closed behind them, pulled him closer, and for one delicious moment she wanted him to make love to her right there. The way he was kissing her, it was as if they were the last two people on earth.

  Parquet flooring was, however, not the ideal surface on which to maintain your balance, especially after several glasses of the current year’s Vintage cider. Sophie’s foot slipped, and she was saved from crashing onto the floor by Alex’s arms around her.

  ‘Now whose footwork is bad?’ Alex murmured between kisses.

  ‘Better sweep me off them, then!’ Sophie replied, and then gasped as Alex, accepting the challenge, threw her over his shoulder and started to carry her up the stairs.

  ‘Not quite what I had in mind!’ Sophie laughed, but her laughter turned to sighs as Alex laid her gently on her bed. The moon had risen, and cast an ethereal glow over the room, and as Alex stood there, the planes of his face low lit by the silvery light, Sophie had a fleeting feeling of total familiarity. She knew this man; knew him like she’d never known anyone, and she wanted to spend the rest of her life getting to know him better. Unsettled, but wildly excited, she dismissed the urge to analyse, and just enjoyed the moment.

  Alex knelt on the bed, and Sophie raised her arms and wrapped them around his neck until his body was on top of hers. It was so warm, still, that undressing came easily, and swiftly they were naked in each other’s arms. Alex’s hands were also warm, and roved over her as quickly as she opened herself totally to him. Never had she felt such rightness in a moment. His mouth, his hands and his desire ignited hers to a white hot degree, and she relished exploring him, feeling the contours that she’d first discovered during their impassioned nights under canvas at the Royal West Country Show.

  ‘Christ, Alex, you have no idea what you do to me,’ Sophie whispered as hands, lips and other things drove her to the peak and back again.

  ‘You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen,’ Alex responded between kisses. And as they took each other to the edge, the night seemed to go on forever. Back and forth, they passed the pleasure between them until both were sated and drowsy, the earlier intensity giving way to gentleness and peace.

  Some time later, while they were still bathed in moonlight, the mood between them was more contemplative.

  ‘What are you thinking?’ Sophie snuggled closer into Alex’s embrace, laying her head on his chest and listening to his heart beating.

  ‘How much I don’t want to go home,’ Alex replied softly. ‘I meant what I said earlier, you know. I never expected to fall in love with someone when I came here. But I have.’

  ‘Me too.’ Sophie raised her head to look at Alex again. Hair dishevelled, eyes dark with love and sated desire, he had never looked more beautiful to her. ‘I really do love you, Alex.’

  Alex shifted slightly, suddenly seeming uncomfortable under her scrutiny.

  ‘What is it? You’ve had something on your mind all evening.’

  Alex shook his head. ‘I wish I could tell you,’ he said softly.

  ‘Tell me what?’

  The pause between them felt electric, loaded with a million words that neither could say.

  ‘You can tell me anything, Alex. You know that by now.’ Sophie kissed his lips again.

  Alex opened his mouth to speak, but as he did so Sophie’s phone pinged from her bedside table. Sighing, she rolled over. ‘It might be Gran,’ she said apologetically. ‘I know it’s late, but I still worry about her.’

  ‘I know,’ Alex replied. Was Sophie imagining it, or did a look of relief flit across his features as she reached over and picked up her phone?

  ‘Everything OK?’ he asked as Sophie put her phone back onto the bedside table.

  ‘Fine.’ Sophie smiled, but it felt like an effort. It hadn’t been Lily who messaged. In fact, it was not a number she recognised, but the message had made it clear exactly who was on the end of it.

  Call me in the morning. I need to tell you something. This time you’ll want to know. M.

  Why couldn’t he just leave her alone? She hadn’t seen him at the celebration, for which she was grateful, but his yapping presence by text reminded her of that bloody dog of his. Resolving to block him, yet again, she tried to put Mark Simpson out of her mind.

  As Sophie snuggled back into Alex’s arms, neither of them were quite as at ease as they had been two minutes previously. Mark’s timing had, as always, been impeccable. Even now they’d broken up, it seemed, he had a radar for the best moment to cause havoc in her life.

  ‘What was it you wanted to tell me?’ Sophie asked sleepily as her heart rate started to slow down again. This was what mattered: being here with Alex.

  Alex paused a fraction too long before replying. ‘It can wait,’ he said softly, gazing up at the patterns of light and shadow cast on Sophie’s bedroom ceiling by the moonlight.

  31

  Far from bringing him peace, Alex found that deciding to keep quiet meant sleep eluded him. Sophie had a long standing engagement on Sunday to go and see an old school friend, who had now moved to Oxford, so she’d kissed Alex goodbye early that morning and set off up the M5, knowing she wasn’t going to be back until quite late. As it was, there was an accident on the southbound motorway as Sophie was travelling home, so she didn’t get back to Little Somerby until nearly midnight. Alex, who she’d called when she’d pulled over at Leigh Delamere service station for a breather, had suggested they try to get a good night’s sleep alone, and catch up at work in the morning. Sophie, although missing his presence in her bed, had agreed. They’d both had far too little sleep lately, and one night apart wouldn’t hurt.

  Alex had waited up until Sophie had texted him that she was home safely and then found himself unable to sleep anyway. Too much was going through his head: thoughts of Sophie, fallout from seeing Jack’s presence everywhere at the birthday commemoration, guilt at spending so much time in Little Somerby under false pretences, and a nagging sense that he needed to come clean with the woman he’d fallen in love with. Bleary eyed and unaccustomed to being so lethargic, the last thing Alex needed on Monday morning was to come face to face
at the Carter’s Cider wrought iron gates with Mark bloody Simpson. Resolving to ignore him, Alex upped his pace. He was going to be late to work if he didn’t push it. He’d got up early to run but by the time he’d walked Barney, it was nearly eight o’clock, and he was due at work. As he drew closer, he saw the other man approaching him.

  ‘Snooping around again on Saturday night, were you?’ Mark called.

  Shaking his head, ignoring Mark, he picked up his pace.

  ‘You can’t hide forever, you know. Why don’t you come clean, mate?’ Mark’s voice was like a hammer drill in Alex’s brain.

  ‘Can’t you take a hint?’ he muttered as Mark jogged to catch up with him.

  ‘Bet it’s great now you’ve conned your way into Carter’s.’ Mark was like a persistent mosquito, and Alex was definitely on the verge of swatting him if he got any closer. ‘I mean, this internship story is just what you needed to get in there, with them and with Sophie. You must be loving it.’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Alex said, a fraction louder. ‘And I need to get to work.’

  ‘Not for much longer once everyone knows why you’re really here.’

  Alex’s brain was too addled by lack of sleep to really process what Mark was saying. On a better day he’d have made up some polite excuse, but he was having trouble forming coherent thoughts. ‘Just leave me alone,’ he muttered.

  ‘What, don’t you want to discuss the fact that your connection to the Carters runs a bit deeper than wanting to grow apples? Come on, mate, you can tell me. Spit it out.’ Mark’s voice was dripping with false sincerity; a tone guaranteed to get on Alex’s nerves.

  Alex’s patience finally ran out. ‘Just get the hell out of here, will you?’ he snapped as he walked through the gates.