He shook his head. He couldn’t bear to think about that.
Bryony Nightingale. How often he had thought of her as he’d journeyed from country to country? She’d never been far from his mind even after he’d stopped writing to her. He’d taken a photograph of her with him, keeping it close to him at all times. He even had it now and he took it out of his wallet to look at it. It was a photo which he had taken on a trip to Southwold. They’d walked down to the sea together and she’d gazed out at the horizon, her long dark hair blowing back in the breeze and the sun full on her face.
He’d had a few girlfriends as he’d worked his way across Europe and America, but that hadn’t been until a full three years after leaving Castle Clare. He was no monk, after all, and yet his mind had always slipped back to Suffolk and to the girl he’d left behind. His best friend. His first love
‘Bryony.’ He spoke her name softly and, in an instant, he knew what he had to do.
Ben walked into the centre of Castle Clare, passing The George pub and Lottie’s Antiques before entering Market Square and walking on towards Church Street. The place hadn’t changed much. The three Nightingale bookshops were all looking resplendent with eye-catching displays in their beautiful bow windows. The bakers looked as if it had had a makeover. A new name too: Well Bread. Ben smirked. Very funny, he thought, peering in through the window, his mouth watering at the delights on offer.
It was then that he saw the man serving. It was the guy who’d been with Bryony in the pub. Was she going out with a baker? Ben frowned, a wave of jealousy hitting him as this stranger placed Viennese slices in a paper bag for a customer. He knew what he’d like to do with one of those Viennese slices. The thought of this man dating his Bryony was enough to make his nostrils steam.
Only she’s not your Bryony, a little voice said – a voice he did his best to quash as he approached Bryony’s bookshop.
He paused on the pavement, taking in the sunshine-yellow paint of the window frame and door. It was typical Bryony, he thought. She’d never been conservative when it came to colour. Even as a youngster, she’d always favoured rainbow-bright scarves and multi-coloured beads and bangles. Her accessories would often get her into trouble at high school and there was more than one occasion when her peacock-blue dangly earrings had been banned.
‘I can’t live in a grey world!’ she’d protested to her form tutor as she pulled at her school jumper.
Her teacher, who’d worn grey even though she didn’t have to, had looked completely baffled by this.
Ben grinned at the memory and, taking a deep breath, opened the shop door. A bell tinkled above his head and Bryony’s voice came from a room behind the till.
‘I’ll be with you in a moment! Make yourself at home.’
Would she be saying that if she knew who it was, he wondered? Probably not.
He closed the door behind him and looked around. Eleanor Nightingale had just begun training Bryony to take over the shop when he’d left on his travels. She’d been so excited to be given so much responsibility and she was anxious not to let her family down. After all, Sam had done sterling work running the secondhand bookshop and Josh had been proving his worth in the independent which sold new titles. Bryony had a lot to live up to.
Well, Ben thought as he looked at the neatly stacked shelves, the colourful beanbags and rugs, the posters and the tiny chairs, she’d certainly achieved all she’d set out to. It was exactly the kind of shop Ben had expected her to run: warm, bright and welcoming. He could well imagine the children of Castle Clare flocking there in their hundreds.
‘I’ve just had a delivery I couldn’t resist opening,’ Bryony said as she came out of the stock room, pushing her dark hair away from her face. It was loose, just the way Ben loved it, and it was all he could do not to race across the room and run his fingers through it.
The smile that had been on her face now vanished and Ben felt the same hollowness that he’d felt in the pub the night before.
‘Hello, Bry,’ he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
She didn’t say anything, but continued to stare at him for a moment, colour rising in her cheeks.
‘I saw you last night,’ he continued, feeling like an idiot for saying something so inane. Of course he’d seen her, and she’d seen him seeing her which was why she’d left so quickly. ‘Why didn’t you come and talk to me?’
Her mouth opened as if she was about to say something but, instead, she turned away from him and went back into the stock room.
‘Bryony?’ He followed her, standing in the doorway and watching as she scooped up an armful of books. ‘Do you want a hand with those?’
‘No!’
It was the first word she’d directed at him and it felt like a bullet entering his chest.
‘Talk to me,’ he said. ‘Please.’
She pushed passed him and placed the pile of books on the counter by the till and he honestly thought that she was going to keep her back to him and that he’d have to leave, but then she spoke.
‘I don’t know what to say to you.’ Her voice wavered slightly as if she was on the verge of tears. ‘Anything,’ he told her. ‘Say anything to me.’ He slowly approached her, stopping just short. ‘Tell me that you’ve missed me or tell me I’m a prat. I won’t mind.’ He gave a little laugh, not at his humour but because he was nervous. He couldn’t ever remember feeling so nervous in his life, not even when he’d been told to get out of the River Nile presto pronto because there’d been a crocodile attack less than two hours before, and not even when he’d encountered the world’s largest spider in the South American jungle. He’d rather face a dozen Nile crocodiles and a thousand spiders than this appalling silence of Bryony’s.
He swallowed hard, not knowing how to continue.
‘I like your skirt,’ he bumbled on. ‘I’ve always loved red, blue, purple and pink together.’
Still nothing.
‘You know, we’re going to have to speak sooner or later so why not get it over and done with now? Bryony? Please!’
She turned to face him. ‘I don’t want to speak to you. I have nothing to say.’
He shook his head. ‘I don’t believe that. I can see all those words you want to fling at me just bubbling under the surface. Your eyes are practically on fire with hate for me. Go on – let me have it. You’ve been storing up for this very moment, haven’t you? Well, I’m ready.’
She stared at him with those big brown eyes of hers which looked so full of emotion. His brilliant, bright, beautiful Bryony. How he wanted to reach out to her.
‘You’ve got such a massive ego, haven’t you?’ she said, finding her voice at last. ‘You think I’ve been doing nothing but pining for you since the moment you left? You can’t imagine that I’ve been leading my own life without giving a second thought to you, can you?’
‘Hey – that’s not true.’
‘No? Are you sure?’
‘Bryony – you’re not being fair.’
‘What?’ she cried. ‘I’m not being fair? After what you did to me?’
There was a dreadful pause as her question hung in the air between them. This wasn’t going well, he thought. What on earth had made him think he could just walk into Bryony’s shop after six years and expect her to want to speak to him? He’d been a fool to imagine that she’d be civil let alone friendly. But he couldn’t help hoping that the connection that they’d once shared – that wonderful bond they’d had – would be remembered.
‘Why did you come back, Ben? We’d got used you will being away.’
The blunt statement was like a punch to his stomach. Was that how she really felt? He looked at the expression in her eyes and it was easy – so easy – to read the pain there.
‘I just want to talk to you,’ he said gently. ‘I’ve missed you. I’ve missed you so much! And I insanely thought that you might want to talk to me or shout at me or ask me about my travels or tell me what’s been going on with you. Six years is a long time
not to speak to your best friend.’
‘Best friends don’t leave one another.’
And there it was. The accusation that had so wounded him when he’d left Castle Clare. Her opinion hadn’t changed, had it? He had let her down in the worst possible way and there was no coming back from that in her eyes. But he couldn’t give up because he believed in them and so he took a deep breath and continued.
‘Who was that guy you were with in the pub?’
Her mouth dropped open at his bold question.
‘What on earth has that got to do with you?’
‘He didn’t look like your sort.’
‘My sort? How do you know I have a sort? You don’t know me, Ben Stratton!’
‘I did not so long ago and I don’t think you’ve changed that much. Not really. And, if you have, then I want to know. I want to get to know you again. I missed you. I really missed you. You got the packages didn’t you? The postcards, the books? I wanted you with me, Bryony. I waited for you, hoping you’d come out and join me.’
‘You only waited two years.’
He frowned. ‘Two years of writing to you is pretty good going, isn’t it? I felt it was foolish to continue after I didn’t hear from you. I didn’t want to go on pestering you and pressurising you.’
‘So, you gave up?’
‘You’re not being very fair here,’ he told her. ‘I didn’t have one word of encouragement from you, Bryony. Not one. You had my details. Unless I was in the middle of nowhere, you knew how to get hold of me, but you didn’t. Not once did you reach out and make contact.’
He could hear the anger and the pain in his voice and he really didn’t want to get angry with her. That’s not why he’d come to see her today. He didn’t want to make hurtful accusations or push her even further away than she already was. Today was about saying hello and extending olive branches.
‘Look,’ he said, doing his best to calm down, ‘I just want to talk to you. Perhaps we can go out sometime?’ He paused, waiting for her response, her dark eyes holding his. ‘What do you think? Could we go out? Get a drink or go for a meal or something?’
‘I’m not going out with you.’
‘Listen –’
‘I want you to leave.’
‘Bryony, please!’ He reached a hand out towards her, but she turned her back on him and started shuffling books on the counter.
‘Please leave.’ Her voice was ice-cold and unrelenting.
‘I’m not giving up,’ he said, but he knew he was defeated today.
Ben left Bryony’s shop feeling as if he’d just been kicked in the gut. She was the one he’d held in his heart all the way around the world. Hers had been the face he’d pictured each and every day whenever he’d seen something special he’d wanted to share with somebody.
Bry would love this, he’d think. Or Bry would laugh at that.
But she didn’t want to see him. She didn’t want to talk to him. She wanted nothing to do with him.
He was just about to head back to Georgia’s when he saw Josh standing outside his shop, resting his chin in his hand as he examined his window display.
Ben sneaked up behind him.
‘Ditch the encyclopaedia. It’s way too big for that display.’
Josh turned around and a smile instantly engulfed his face.
‘BEN!’ he cried and the two of them slapped backs. ‘Sam said you’d come home.’
‘Yeah, a few days now.’
‘And you didn’t drop by to see me?’
‘Hey – I was working my way around the Nightingale family. There’s a lot of you!’
Josh laughed. ‘And I guess you wanted to see a certain sister of mine?’ He nodded across the road at the yellow-doored bookshop.
Ben sighed. ‘It didn’t go well, I’m afraid.’
Josh gave him a sympathetic look. ‘Give it time. There’s a lot of resentment there.’
‘You don’t say.’
‘It’s going to take a while for her to process it all.’
‘She’s had six years. I was kind of hoping she’d have mellowed towards me by now.’
‘Mellowed – Bryony?’
Josh was right. Bryony just wasn’t the sort of girl who’d mellow over time.
‘So, what do I do now? Any suggestions from you as her brother?’
Josh looked serious for a moment – a look he inhabited well.
‘Why don’t you come over this Sunday?’
‘Where?’
‘Campion House, of course. Sunday lunch. Like the good old days.’
Ben looks surprised by the suggestion. ‘Seriously?’
‘Seriously! Mum and Dad – well, everyone – would love to see you.’
‘Everyone? Are you sure?’ He glanced back at Bryony’s bookshop.
‘She’ll be fine.’
Ben frowned, uncertain of Josh’s optimism and then something else occurred to him. ‘I haven’t got any wheels at the mo.’
‘No worries – I’ll pick you up.’
Ben grinned. Josh was certainly making it hard for him to say no.
‘Where are you?’ Josh asked him.
Ben told him the address.
‘Great. I’ll pick you up at midday. Give us plenty of time to catch up with everyone before lunch. Mum’s going to have a thousand questions for you, I just know it.’
And there’ll probably be one or two questions from Bryony as well, he thought. Like what the hell was he doing there? The likelihood of Bryony being happy to see him again was slim indeed, but he wasn’t going to let that put him off.
Chapter Four
Josh picked Ben up at noon on Sunday to drive the short distance to Wintermarsh.
‘You look smart,’ he said as Ben got in the car.
‘Don’t sound so surprised. I can dress up when the occasion demands it.’
Josh laughed. ‘Mum always likes us to wear proper shirts on Sundays. No tracksuit bottoms. No trainers. The funny thing is, she says she wants us to feel relaxed.’
‘I think it’s nice to make an effort.’
‘Yeah, me too.’
They turned down the country lane from Castle Clare that would lead to Wintermarsh. It was a bright April morning with a blue sky dotted with happy white clouds and it almost felt warm enough to venture forth without a winter coat.
‘They do know I’m coming, right?’ Ben asked.
Josh shifted a little in the driver’s seat. ‘I’ve kind of left it as a surprise.’
‘You haven’t!’
‘Mum loves surprises and there’s always plenty of food, you know that.’
‘It’s not your mum I’m worried about.’
‘Relax. Bryony will be fine,’ Josh said as if reading his mind.
‘It’s easy for you to say.’
‘And if she isn’t, she’s not going to cause a scene, is she? Not in front of everybody.’
‘You sure about that?’
Josh gave a little shrug. ‘It won’t really matter if she does, will it?’
‘You’re not exactly making me feel comfortable here.’
‘It’ll be fine, trust me.’
Ben sighed. As much as he loved Josh’s optimism, he couldn’t help having misgivings all the same.
It wasn’t long before they reached Campion House, pulling into the gravelled driveway in front of the elegant Georgian home. How he’d missed this place with its warm welcome, its squashy sofas and tea on tap, its dog walks round the fields and gentle conversation. It had been a perfect haven for him when he’d been growing up. His mother had gone through an alarming number of boyfriends and Ben and his sister had never known whom they would find at home. It was easier for them both to be elsewhere and Ben had so looked forward to his Sundays with the Nightingales.
‘Is Bryony here yet?’ Ben asked.
‘Her car’s not here, but she could have got a lift with Polly. That’s her Land Rover. Wait till you meet Polly’s new man. And Archie - you won’t recognise him!’
‘Mum?’ Josh called down the hallway, setting off a sudden volley of barks.
Ben watched as a large pointer and a pair of springer spaniels came charging towards them.
‘Hardy the pointer and Brontë and Dickens the spaniels,’ Josh said. ‘Mum?’
‘I’m coming, darling!’
Suddenly, Ben felt nervous about being there. What if Eleanor Nightingale wasn’t happy to see him? What if Bryony had rung and told her mum about their awkward exchange in the bookshop earlier that week? It really wouldn’t surprise Ben if Eleanor charged right back to the kitchen and came out with the steak knives. Or else set the dogs on him.
But he needn’t have worried for, as soon as Eleanor saw him, she screamed in delight.
‘Ben! My Ben!’ she cried, tears instantly filling her eyes as she moved forward to embrace him.
‘Mrs Nightingale!’ Ben managed to choke up the words through the tight embrace.
‘Eleanor! You can call me Eleanor!’ She laughed and loosened her grip on him. ‘What a wonderful surprise. I’d heard you were back.’
‘I’m sorry you didn’t know I was coming.’
‘You don’t need to apologise. I adore surprises!’
Josh gave Ben a knowing look.
‘Well, it’s kind of you to make me so welcome.’
There then followed a mad scrambling sort of welcome as heaps of Nightingales filled the hallway, clambering to get close to Ben. First there was Polly who gave him a big kiss and teased him for having a beard.
‘This is Jago,’ she said and Ben shook the hand of a tall, good-looking man whose hair was even longer than his own.
‘Archie won’t recognise you, I’m afraid,’ Polly said.
‘I remember Ben!’ Archie chirped up as he came forward.
‘You can’t possibly!’ Polly laughed. ‘You were tiny when Ben left. You probably remember the stories you’ve heard about him.’
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