The Beekeeper’s Cottage: An absolutely unputdownable feel-good summer read

by Emma Davies

  Grace could hear the burble of voices from behind the door as she plastered a smile on her face. Then, suddenly filling the hallway, was Paul, even bigger than she remembered, the flash of his suave good looks and expensive cologne sending her stomach into freefall.

  She faltered for a moment, memories assailing her – good times, when all she wanted was to lie in his arms amazed that this intelligent, handsome and captivating man was hers. But then she pushed her thoughts away. It was all wrong; his bulk was too huge, domineering, even his bearing looked arrogant and overly confident. The charm was flowing as he ushered in their guests but all she could think was that his vulgar familiarity had shattered the calm equilibrium that was her home.

  ‘Ah Grace, there you are,’ he said, swooping forward and wrapping his arms around her. He kissed her full on the lips. ‘Let me introduce you to everyone.’ He stood back to allow them all to find a space. ‘Firstly, this is Zac, who you’ve heard so much about.’

  She had. Dominic had made sure he had sent her potted biographies of all three guests, together with photographs, although Zac was considerably shorter than she had imagined.

  ‘It’s so lovely to meet you,’ she said stepping forward to receive the obligatory air-kiss to both cheeks. ‘And I understand you hail not far from here originally. Do you get much opportunity to come home?’

  He smiled and dipped his head in acknowledgement that she had done her homework. ‘Not half as much as I’d like. My folks still live in Herefordshire, in the same house I grew up in actually, but I rarely get the time to visit, you know how it is. I’ve lived in the States for fifteen years now, but home is still home, so coming here this weekend is a real treat for me. A little slice of the England I always try to keep in my mind, and that’s not always easy in the middle of New York, let me tell you.’

  Tinkly laughter echoed around the hall and the tall man by Zac’s side stepped forward, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

  ‘This is my second in command,’ said Zac. ‘Riley Schwarz… far too young to be so incredibly talented, but there you go.’

  Grace shook his hand. They were all impossibly young and good-looking, tanned, smooth-skinned, and with an air of money about them that couldn’t be faked. Even the incredibly skinny chap standing tucked a little behind Riley was wearing top-to-toe designer wear. As Zac’s assistant, Grace had no doubt he was required to look the part but she also had no doubt that his entire wardrobe consisted of similar clothes.

  ‘You must be Scott,’ she said, smiling again and moving forward. They all made Grace feel as if she were one hundred and two, on a good day.

  Finally, introductions made, she was able to greet Dominic, bringing up the rear, who stared deep into her eyes with a look that left her in no doubt how grateful he was.

  From her side, Paul opened his arms in an expansive gesture. ‘Welcome to our home,’ he said. ‘Come through, everyone, and let’s get some hospitality going, shall we? It’s been a long journey for you all.’

  Smiling at her cue, Grace led the way into the living room, which she knew would look stunning in the evening light. It was the perfect antidote to long stressful days.

  ‘Please, sit wherever you would like and I’ll organise some drinks.’ She was pleased to hear collective noises of appreciation as they entered the room and even Paul had the grace to nod his thanks in her direction. ‘Dominic, would you mind giving me a hand with the trays please?’

  Everything was laid out ready; tea, a pot of the finest coffee she could find, and a jug of Hannah’s homemade lemonade. All that was required was hot water and, within moments, they were carrying the drinks back through to the others. Paul was already deep in conversation, having pounced on the plate of sugary biscuits that she had baked earlier. The evening had begun.

  ‘Well, well, well, someone has been busy…’

  The voice, oily and snide, in marked contrast to how it had sounded earlier, cut straight through Grace. Startled, she whirled around in the dim light of the kitchen, trying to find its source, only just spotting Paul by the glow of his cigarette as he leaned up against the open patio door. He straightened once he saw that she had seen him.

  ‘That didn’t take you long,’ he added. ‘Had help, did you?’

  She ignored his comment.

  ‘I’m just getting a drink, Paul,’ she replied. ‘And then I’m going to bed.’

  He moved forward into the room and she frowned at the smoke which wafted after him.

  ‘Ah yes, your bed… which no longer seems to be my bed. Or indeed my bedroom. You could have told me, Grace.’

  He was goading her, she knew that; he’d had too much to drink and even now, with three guests sleeping upstairs, was spoiling for a fight. She tried to distance herself from the memories of the last weekend she had hosted. It wasn’t the same at all, she wasn’t the same, and she lifted her head a little, feeling stronger.

  ‘I did tell you,’ she replied evenly. ‘As soon as I could, but that was difficult seeing as you neglected to get in touch about any of the arrangements for this weekend. Or indeed to check if I needed any help.’

  ‘Well, it could have been very embarrassing, not even knowing where my own bloody wife was sleeping.’

  ‘I never know where you sleep, Paul. How does it feel?’

  She took a glass from the cupboard and ran water into it from the tap. ‘I suggest you get some rest. From the sounds of it you have a busy day lined up tomorrow. Goodnight.’

  Her hand was shaking so much it was all she could do to keep the water from spilling and she had almost made it to the door when Paul’s voice came again.

  ‘So who helped you do all the work then?’ he asked. ‘All the painting, moving the rooms round… and don’t tell me you strung all those lights up in the trees by yourself, Grace, because I know you didn’t.’

  She knew what he was asking: not who had helped her at all, but whether it was a man who had done so. She turned slowly, composing her face into a neutral expression despite the dim light. Amos had been an almost physical presence in her mind the whole evening. In fact, at times she was certain she had actually felt him close by, but she was damned if she would make any mention of him now.

  ‘My friends helped me,’ she replied. ‘You know, our neighbours, Ned, Flora, Hannah… and Fraser too, who’s doing incredibly well after his operation, thanks for asking.’

  They had been his neighbours too for years and it irked her that he hadn’t even thought to ask how they were doing, but she would have to be careful to make no mention of the business she was planning on running, or the fact that with her help, business at the farm would be expanding too. She inhaled more deeply, trying to get her breathing under control – his questions were beginning to irritate her intensely. What right did he have to question her, or anything she did?

  ‘Well how public-spirited of them,’ he remarked, drawing on his cigarette so that its tip glowed red. He blew out the smoke slowly, knowing it would annoy her.

  Clenching her fingers into her palm, she waited a couple more seconds but, despite the sneering look on his face, he remained silent. Taking the opportunity, she turned and walked away, her face hot.

  It was cool in her room, and she stood for a few moments barefoot on the carpet, trying to draw in the peaceful atmosphere the room exuded. The fact that Paul’s behaviour didn’t surprise her was no comfort. Despite the importance of this weekend, he still couldn’t help himself. And the evening had gone well, in fact, it had gone brilliantly. The compliments had flowed for everything she had done; the simple supper of prawn and lemon linguine had been well received and, as the night stretched out and they retired to the patio, the atmosphere had been relaxed and convivial, the conversation tumbling and turning around a variety of subjects. Their guests were intelligent, well-read and charming, and she had even found herself enjoying their company, in spite of the occasion.

  She crossed to the open window. Paul needed to be careful and, as a result, so did she
. His behaviour could so easily backfire and she didn’t want to be taken with it if it did. Wondering how on earth she was ever going to sleep, she’d begun to turn away when a slight movement caught the corner of her eye. She turned back, but all was still in the garden below. And yet…

  She lifted her face to the moon and breathed deeply, a slow smile turning up the corners of her mouth. Amos might not be with her, but she was sure it had been him in the garden just now, keeping a watch; it was just the sort of thing he would do. She turned away, feeling his comfort wrap around her.

  18

  It was early when Grace opened her eyes the next morning to a still and silent house. She lay for a few moments listening to the sounds of the garden below her window and gathering herself for the day ahead. Despite her conversation with Paul the night before she had slept well. She could only hope that his bile would have calmed during the night and not be further inflamed by a hangover this morning; she didn’t think she could cope with a repeat performance. Their guests would be out for most of the day but Grace still had a lot to prepare for and she would rather do so with a clear head.

  Pulling on her usual jeans and tee shirt, she went soundlessly downstairs to freshen up the rooms and make a start on the breakfast preparations. Taking a tip out of Hannah’s book she had decided to make fresh bread rolls and croissants and, although she had bought the puff pastry, she was making the bread from scratch.

  The kitchen was flooded with sunlight and, after flicking on the kettle to make herself some tea, she opened the patio doors to let in the gentle morning air. The sky was already a cloudless blue and looked set to continue that way and, as Grace stared out across the garden, she couldn’t help but wonder whether Amos lay sleeping somewhere just out of sight. She hoped so; just knowing he was around made her feel better.

  She was turning out a ball of sticky dough onto the floured work surface when she heard soft footsteps behind her and turned in greeting. Like her, Zac had forgone the business dress of the day before and was clad in jeans and a soft shirt, worn loose. He was also barefoot.

  ‘Good morning,’ he replied, echoing her words. ‘Another beautiful one too by the look of things.’ His smile was easy. ‘I hope you don’t mind my interrupting,’ he continued, showing her the book he carried. ‘I hadn’t expected anyone to be up just yet and I’m a sucker for a quiet spot of reading first thing in the morning.’

  Grace indicated the table. ‘Be my guest,’ she said. ‘I think that’s a lovely idea. Or sit outside if you’d rather, it’s probably warm enough already. What are you reading?’

  He held up the cover which depicted a stack of books. ‘Rereading,’ he said. ‘Stoner, by John Williams, one of my all-time favourites.’

  Grace held a hand to her heart and sighed theatrically. ‘He should have followed his heart, don’t you think? And given up everything for the woman he loved…’

  Zac looked at her in surprise. ‘You’ve actually read it? Blimey, I rave about this book to people all the time and they just look at me blankly.’ He paused. ‘Maybe that’s why I like it so much, I feel like it’s my secret pleasure. And yes, you’re right, he should have.’

  Grace laughed. ‘Then don’t let me keep you,’ she said. ‘I won’t tell a soul.’ She looked down at her floury fingers. ‘Would you like a cup of tea or coffee to go with it? I won’t be a moment.’

  ‘Tea would be great, thanks… but let me – that is, if you don’t mind?’

  ‘I don’t mind in the slightest but this isn’t really the way it’s supposed to happen. It should be me looking after you, not the other way around.’

  Zac glanced over his shoulder. ‘Then I won’t tell a soul,’ he said, eyes twinkling in amusement. ‘Would you like another?’

  ‘Yes please, I’ll have tea too.’

  Zac removed her cup from the side and instinctively opened the cupboard above the kettle, taking down a mug. He grinned. ‘They’re always in the same place, aren’t they? In everyone’s house.’

  Grace smiled and started to knead the bread. Zac obviously didn’t need help in finding his way around the kitchen. Moments later he placed her mug back down beside her.

  ‘Are you all right with me sitting here?’ he asked, indicating the table.

  ‘Of course. And help yourself to a biscuit if you’d like one. Dominic asked for breakfast around eight thirty, but that seems like rather a long way away just now.’

  Zac’s eyes lit up. ‘I shouldn’t, but I’m jolly well going to.’

  He took a couple of biscuits from the tin Grace indicated and settled himself in a chair, bending one leg up and resting his ankle across his knee.

  ‘Can I just say how grateful I am to you for putting us all up this weekend, Grace. You have a beautiful house, and I confess this is just what I needed. New York can be the most amazing city to live in but, even after all this time, I still get a little homesick for the English countryside. It’s good to be back.’

  ‘Well then, it’s my absolute pleasure,’ she replied. ‘And feel free to explore the garden if you wish. The views from the bottom are incredible.’

  He dipped his head. ‘I will, thank you.’

  After that he fell silent, opening his book and losing himself in its pages. He leaned forward every now and again to drink his tea but, apart from that, was still. It rather surprised Grace, who had imagined that someone in his position would be rather more brash, not given to the pleasures of solitude and a good book, but it was rather nice having his undemanding company – not something she was used to at all.

  With the bread dough proving, Grace turned her attention to rolling out the pastry, cutting it into triangles once she was done and rolling it up to make croissants. There would be tea, and coffee, obviously, and fresh figs, strawberries and pineapple along with either a full cooked breakfast or smoked salmon and scrambled eggs. Hannah had laughed when Grace had told her what she was planning on serving for breakfast. A convert to the healing properties of porridge and honey, she told Grace she should just make everyone do with that. It was tempting, certainly, but as Grace eyed the mountain of food in the fridge she reminded herself that if all went according to plan she would have to get used to cooking big breakfasts.

  Having divided the dough into rolls, Grace was just popping them in the oven when a clatter from behind her announced Paul’s entrance. Already dressed and reeking of cologne, he was about to say something when, looking past her, he realised that she was not alone. A smile lit his face and he loomed towards her, pulling her close and planting a kiss full on her lips. It was all she could do to keep from flinching.

  ‘Hello, darling,’ he said. Then asked, ‘Can I get you a coffee?’ before turning slightly and ‘suddenly’ noticing Zac.

  ‘Good morning… another beauty, isn’t it?’ he fawned. ‘I hope you slept well.’

  ‘Beautifully,’ replied Zac, getting to his feet.

  Grace saw Paul take in the book, the casual clothes, the empty mug. ‘I do hope Grace has been looking after you?’

  ‘She has. It’s been a peaceful and rather lovely start to the day.’ He indicated his book. ‘We seem to share a love of good literature too.’

  Paul squinted at the cover and nodded, but Grace knew he would have nothing to add. Paul read one book a year, on holiday, and that was whatever he picked up at the airport.

  As if realising that no further conversation on the subject would ensue, Zac put his book down decisively on the table and gave a massive stretch. ‘I might take a wander now,’ he said. ‘And have a look at the garden. Then I guess I’d better hit the shower and get suited and booted, ready for the day ahead. I think Dominic has rather a lot planned for us.’

  Grace caught his eye, smiling at the wry amusement in his voice. In that instant she decided that she really did like Zac. She was pretty sure he had already made up his mind about who would be getting his contract and this weekend would make absolutely no difference to his decision. Apart from admiring his integrity, she rea
lised it took the pressure off her somewhat and for that she was grateful. Her whole future had seemed to be riding on this weekend, but maybe it wasn’t going to be as bad as she had feared.

  ‘Just be aware that I keep bees,’ she said. ‘Not everyone is a fan, but they won’t cause you any problems. When you reach the slope and start to drop down, just keep to the right of the hives as you pass, that way you’ll be out of their foraging path. It’s worth it though, there’s something of a surprise at the end of the garden.’

  She smiled but wouldn’t say any more despite Zac’s arched eyebrows which invited further comment. He grinned and set off with a slight wave.

  ‘What was that supposed to mean?’ barked Paul as soon as Zac was out of earshot. ‘What have you been saying to him?’

  ‘Nothing, why?’

  ‘Well you looked very cosy in here, and that comment he made about Dominic, what was all that about? I hope he realises that all this is for his sake.’

  Grace hid her smile. ‘I think he’s only too well aware of that fact,’ she replied. ‘And to assume otherwise would really be insulting his intelligence. He’s as much aware of the game you’re all playing as you are.’

  Paul’s jaw clenched. ‘This is not a game, Grace…’

  ‘Isn’t it? Oh, I do beg your pardon.’

  ‘So, what were you doing in here then?’ he asked, scowling at her.

  ‘Well, as you can see, I’ve been making bread rolls and croissants and Zac has been enjoying a quiet cup of tea with a favourite book.’

  Paul’s eyes narrowed. ‘But you must have been talking about something?’

  ‘Not really, no. I rather think the point was that Zac wanted a little peace and quiet before the day got underway. And as such, we didn’t chat, that would have defeated the object of the exercise.’

  ‘So he just happened to come in here before everyone else was up, did he?’