‘I’ll get the dessert,’ she said.
‘Polly’s made two apple tarts,’ Sam told Callie. ‘They’re to die for.’
‘Can I help with anything?’ Callie asked.
‘Absolutely not,’ Frank said. ‘You’re our guest.’
‘You can help the next time you come,’ Bryony said. ‘You’ll be given a great big list of chores then!’
Callie didn’t know if she was joking or not, but she smiled politely, knowing that it would be unlikely for her to be invited again.
Sam was right about Polly’s apple tart. It was delicious, especially as it was served with rich local cream. Callie particularly loved the fact that Polly had made two large tarts so that everybody could have seconds.
‘It’s expected,’ Sam told her with a grin.
Tea and coffee followed in the living room where Grandma Nell promptly fell asleep with a crocheted blanket over her knee, and where Josh was trying to teach young Archie the finer points of chess.
‘You’ll wow the girls at school if you can master this game,’ Josh told him.
Bryony frowned. ‘Wow the girls with chess?’ she said in undisguised horror.
‘I don’t like girls,’ Archie said.
‘You will,’ Grandpa Joe said.
‘And girls love a man who can use his skill on the chess board,’ Josh said, moving his knight into an intimidating position.
‘Are you sure about that?’ Bryony said.
‘Always worked for me,’ Josh said.
‘Really? I’m learning something new about my brother today.’
‘I used to teach all the cute girls how to play,’ Josh said.
‘Are we still talking about chess?’ Sam asked, winking at his sisters.
‘Now, I’m not saying that they were all one hundred per cent interested in how to play the game,’ Josh said,’ but it yielded me one or two kisses.’
‘Yeah,’ Bryony said, ‘they were all so bored, they knew the only way they could get you to stop wittering on was to kiss you!’
Everyone laughed.
‘Can I read my book now, Uncle Josh?’ Archie said.
Josh rolled his eyes. ‘If you must,’ he said.
‘Never discourage a bookworm,’ Grandpa Joe said.
‘Anyone want to finish this game?’ Josh asked.
‘No,’ everyone chorused.
‘More tea, Callie?’ Eleanor asked.
As much as Callie would have liked to have stayed and enjoyed the warm hospitality at Campion House, she felt it was time to go.
‘I should probably be getting back,’ she said, getting to her feet.
‘Really?’ Bryony said. ‘Already?’
‘I’ve got some work I shouldn’t put off any longer,’ Callie explained.
‘Let me get your coat,’ Eleanor said and Callie followed her through to the cloakroom at the back of the house where Hardy and Brontë were sleeping.
‘I hope you haven’t found us all too much,’ she said. ‘I know we can be a little intimidating en masse.’
‘Not at all,’ Callie said. ‘I really enjoyed it. I don’t often get to be a part of a big family. I mean, I don’t ever get to be a part of one.’
‘I can’t imagine not having this house full every week,’ Eleanor said.
Callie smiled as Eleanor handed her coat to her.
‘You’re welcome here any time,’ she said.
‘Thank you,’ Callie said.
They walked into the hallway together and Callie popped her head round the living room door.
‘I’m off!’ she said. ‘It was lovely meeting you all.’
‘Bye, Callie! Drop by the shop sometime soon,’ Josh said.
‘Drop by my shop sometime soon!’ Bryony said.
‘Goodbye,’ Grandpa Joe waved from his chair. ‘Nell – Nell!’
‘What is it?’ Grandma Nell asked, waking up with a startled look on her face. ‘What time is it?’
‘Callie’s leaving.’
‘Who’s Callie?’
‘The nice young woman Sam brought with him.’
‘Are they getting married?’ Nell asked.
‘Not today,’ Grandpa Joe told her to the sound of much laughter.
Sam got up and joined Callie in the hallway. ‘Sorry about all that,’ he said.
‘Everyone’s so funny,’ she said.
‘Yes – funny strange. They should all be locked up!’ he said, but he was smiling as he said it. ‘Well, thanks again for getting me here on time.’
‘You’re welcome,’ she said.
‘You okay finding your way home?’
‘I think I can manage,’ she said. ‘What’s happening with your car?’ she asked.
‘Oh, Josh is going to tow it for me tomorrow.’
‘I’ll keep an eye on it tonight,’ she said.
‘I think it’ll be safe in Newton St Clare.’
‘I think you’re right,’ she said.
There was an awkward pause.
‘I’m glad you came,’ he said.
‘Me too. I had a really great time,’ she said. ‘You’ve got an amazing family.’
‘That’s a very kind thing to say.’
‘It’s just the truth,’ she said. ‘You’re lucky.’
‘I know,’ he said. ‘They wind me up and drive me insane, but I couldn’t imagine life without them.’
He opened the front door and Callie stepped outside.
‘Bye,’ she said, waving a hand.
He waved back and watched as she got into her car and drove off.
When Callie arrived back at Owl Cottage and shut her front door behind her, the silence wrapped itself around her and, for the first time, it wasn’t completely welcome. She realised how much she’d loved the noise and chaos of the Nightingale family, and how warm and inviting it had all been. Even when she’d been embarrassed by their questions, she’d thought that it was rather wonderful to be a part of such a happy clan.
Suddenly, she had an impulse to reach out to her own small family and she picked up the phone before she could change her mind. She was always a tad nervous when ringing her mother because she never knew if her call would be well received or not.
‘Hello, Mum!’ she said a moment later.
‘Oh, Caroline? Is that you?’
‘Yes,’ she said, only slightly annoyed that her mother should ask her that question as Callie was the only person in the world to call her Mum.
‘I’m just heading out. It wasn’t important was it?’
‘No, Mum, it wasn’t important.’
Callie had long since realised that she was not a priority in her parents’ life.
‘Is everything all right?’
‘Yes of course it is.’
‘Then why are you ringing?’ her mother asked.
‘I just wanted to talk to you.’
‘That’s rather strange, don’t you think?’
Callie sighed. How she longed to have a normal conversation with her mother – to swap silly stories like the Nightingales did, to be able to casually chat about anything and everything. But it wasn’t to be, was it?
‘Your father and I were in Suffolk last week,’ her mother said.
‘Really? Where?’
‘Bury St Edmunds.’
‘But that’s only twenty minutes from me,’ Callie said, astonished that her mother hadn’t got in touch about the trip.
‘It was a last minute thing. Your father was visiting an old work colleague. We thought you’d be busy.’
Callie didn’t know what to say. Her parents had been only twenty minutes from her new home and they hadn’t bothered to call in to see her.
‘Look, I’ve got to go,’ her mother said, sounding flustered. ‘Bye.’ And she rang off.
Callie stood holding the receiver, feeling quite numb. Had that really just happened?
She sighed in defeat. ‘Why do I do this to myself over and over again?’
Chapter 17
Sam had stood
at the front door of Campion House until Callie’s car had left, delaying the moment when he returned to face his family because he knew what he was in for.
Sure enough, as soon as he entered the living room, he was set upon with everybody talking at once.
‘SAM!’ Bryony yelled. ‘Why didn’t you tell me she was coming?’
‘You’ve kept this all very quiet, Bro,’ Josh said.
‘Is she your new girlfriend, Uncle Sam?’ Archie asked.
‘She’s a very nice young woman,’ his father said. ‘I hope we’ll be seeing her again soon.’
‘Who are they talking about?’ Grandma Nell said now that she was wide awake.
Sam shook his head and left the room.
His mum, who’d been straightening things in the dining room, motioned him into the kitchen and Sam knew there was no escaping.
‘That lot been giving you earache?’ she asked.
‘Something like that,’ he said, knowing full well that she would be doing just the same thing only in her quieter but well-meaning way.
‘I’m so pleased your car broke down in front of Callie’s house,’ she told him, wading in gently. ‘Although you didn’t need that excuse to invite her here, you know?’
‘I know that, Mum,’ he said.
‘Then why haven’t we met her before today? She’s been in Suffolk since September.’
‘We’re just friends, that’s why,’ he said. ‘I don’t invite all my friends to Sunday lunch with my family.’
‘I know,’ she said, ‘but she seemed rather special.’
‘I suppose she is,’ he said.
‘There’s no supposing about it,’ she said. ‘That young woman has special written all over her and, what’s more, she looked like she needed a friend.’
‘She has one,’ Sam said.
‘Good,’ she said.
‘No,’ Sam said. ‘I don’t mean me. I meant,’ he paused, ‘a special friend.’
‘Who?’
‘Leo Wildman,’ Sam said, sounding the name with some distaste. ‘She was with him when my car broke down in her village.’
‘With him as in with him?’ Eleanor asked, eyebrows raised.
‘I think so,’ Sam said.
‘Oh,’ she said. ‘That’s not good news.’
‘You’ve heard of him?’
‘Sure I have,’ she said. ‘I met their mother at that sewing group I used to go to. Her husband died a few years ago. There were two boys – Leo and,’ she paused, ‘Rick, I think. I met them both a few years ago. Very handsome.’
‘Yes,’ Sam said with a scowl.
‘And very – what’s the word?’
Sam looked at his mother with anxious eyes. ‘What? He’s very what?’
‘Well, popular,’ she said at last. ‘Those Wildman boys are very popular with the women. At least, that’s what I’ve heard.’
‘Well, it’s none of our business whom Callie is seeing,’ he said.
‘No, not if you don’t care about her,’ Eleanor said, ‘but I think you do care about her, don’t you?’
Sam walked across the kitchen and looked out of the window onto the back garden. A blustery wind was sending spirals of leaves dancing down from the trees and great grey clouds were hanging heavy in the sky.
‘Sam?’
‘What?’ he said, turning back to look at her.
‘You do care about her, don’t you? I don’t mean to pry, but I couldn’t help but notice how things were between you.’
‘What do you mean?’
She shrugged. ‘Oh, just the little looks that passed between you.’
‘You have a very vivid imagination, Mum,’ he said with a grin.
‘No,’ she said, ‘I have a very astute sense of what’s going on with my children, that’s all.’
He made to leave the room. ‘I’ll take my chances in the living room.’
‘Sam?’
‘Yes?’
‘I know you’ve had a really rough time of things recently – rougher than anyone should ever have to experience – but I hope you don’t think you’ll never fall in love again. It will happen, you know that, don’t you?’
Her face was tender with emotion and, even though Sam wanted to run about a million miles away from that particular conversation, he knew that she had nothing but his interest at heart and so he nodded.
‘I know, Mum,’ he said.
‘Do you?’ she asked, her eyes fixed on him and seeming to see into his very soul.
He stood there for a moment, suffering under the relentless gaze of his mother. ‘I’ve got to go,’ he said at last.
Since moving to Owl Cottage, Callie had managed to avoid going into London, but she could put it off no longer. Her agent had been hollering at her non-stop.
‘We need to talk,’ she kept saying. ‘I hope you’re not expecting me to come out to the wilds of Suffolk. Not in these shoes.’
Callie had finally taken pity on her city-bound agent and had bought herself a ticket, catching the train into London and taking the tube to Covent Garden. It was a strange experience to be in London again, pushing her way through the crowded underground and having her ears blasted by traffic and tourists. She’d forgotten how exhausting it was just to walk and breathe in London and, even after only half an hour in the capital, she longed to get back to her little place in the country where she could stride across the woods and fields without knocking into people.
Her agent had booked them a table at a small restaurant in a side street off the piazza in Covent Garden, but wasn’t there when Callie arrived which didn’t surprise her because her agent was always running late. She was one of those people who always tried to squeeze twenty appointments into ten slots and was known to juggle phone calls and text messages whilst simultaneously holding a meeting with a person in the same room with her.
It was ten minutes after Callie had sat down that her agent arrived, catching her eye from the door whilst flinging her heavy winter coat at a waitress.
Margot Marsden was a terrifying woman. At five foot eleven in heels, with the breadth and carriage of a headmistress from the strictest of schools, she still made Callie feel slightly ill at ease even though they’d been working together for years. But she was one of the best literary agents in the business and worked around the clock making sure that her clients got the very best deals and author care from their publishers.
‘Hello, darling!’ she said, air kissing Callie before sitting down opposite her with a weary sigh. She didn’t apologise for being late because, as far as Margot was concerned, she never was.
‘So, Piers wants your new book,’ Margot said, launching straight into business without bothering with any niceties first, as she usually did. ‘He’s been emailing and texting and filling up the office answer machine.’
‘I’m so sorry, Margot – I did tell him, quite firmly, that I wasn’t interested.’
‘You did what?’ she asked, her voice booming across the restaurant, causing several heads to turn.
‘I told him I wasn’t going to work with him again – ever!’
‘You never tell an editor that,’ she said, leaning in closer. ‘You simply tell them to put their best offer forward and you play them off against all the other publishers.’
‘But what’s the point if we’re going to turn him down?’
‘Because he might encourage the other players to up their offer,’ Margot said. ‘Honestly, have you learned nothing in your time with me?’
‘Obviously not,’ Callie said.
‘All writers should be sent to business school in my opinion,’ Margot said, ordering lunch for the two of them together with a bottle of very expensive wine. ‘Business school followed by a course in fashion.’
Callie looked down at the outfit she’d cobbled together from items in her wardrobe. She’d thought she’d passed muster before Margot’s jibe, but she could see how her simple, rather bohemian dress might be viewed with suspicion by a lady who lunched slightly more
often than Callie did.
‘So, you’re okay with me sending Piers the first draft of your opening chapters?’ Margot said, and Callie could tell it was a statement rather than a question.
‘I’d really rather you didn’t,’ she said.
‘But he’s practically drooling over this novel.’
Callie winced. The image of her ex-husband drooling just as she was about to have lunch was too much.
‘I’ve said no,’ Callie said, standing her ground which was never easy with Margot.
‘Fine!’ Margot said. ‘Have it your own way, only let me do my job here and find out what his offer actually is before we turn him down. He might surprise us. I’ll send it out to a few other editors too and see what sort of offers they come up with too.’
Callie shook her head in despair. No matter how many times she’d say no, and no matter how many times Margot appeared to listen to her, Callie knew that her beloved manuscript would appear in her ex-husband’s inbox before the day was out.
It was after lunch with her agent and en route to meet up with her friend, Heidi, that Callie spotted the bookshop. It was a small independent with a window crowded with new editions of classics as well as the latest chart-topping titles.
Hesitating, Callie wondered if she dared go in. It had been months since she’d walked into a London bookshop and even longer since she’d last looked for her own books on a shelf. Taking a deep breath, she walked inside, making her way to the children’s department which was warm and inviting with its bright, cheerful colours.
It was always a loaded moment for an author to walk into a bookshop and Callie realised that she’d almost stopped breathing as she approached the shelves, looking along the great length of book spines in the ‘L’ section, her eyes resting as they came to the place where anything by Callie Logan would live.
There was nothing there.
Callie swallowed hard and looked again. Maybe her titles had been put in the wrong place, but a quick glance to the left and the right revealed nothing. She simply wasn’t there.
All at once, all the old insecurities came flooding back. What if she was never published again? What if her time as a writer was up and nobody ever bought her work again or stocked her books or read them?
Calm down, she told herself. If Piers loves your new book, other publishers will too. But what if they didn’t? What if it was only Piers’s offer on the table? What would she do then?
The Book Lovers Page 19