Natural Born Readers (The Book Lovers 3)

by Victoria Connelly

  How are you?

  It was only three words but that question mark opened up a whole world of possibilities. She was opening a dialogue with him, wasn’t she? You didn’t ask somebody you hated how they were, did you? She could so easily have ignored him, but she’d chosen not to. She’d engaged with him. And there was only one thing to do with a question and that was to answer it.

  I’m good. Better than good. Just been into London.

  He stopped typing. How much should he say? He didn’t want to sound too keen and yet he was champing at the bit to get a proper conversation under way.

  He deleted the Just been into London. After all, it probably wasn’t wise to mention the young and beautiful Aria at this tenuous point.

  Been thinking about you.

  He looked at those four innocent words. They were the truth, but should he send them? He deleted them. Goodness, this was harder than he’d thought. He’d been desperate to talk to Bryony for ages but, now that the time had come, he had no idea what to say.

  So what did he have so far?

  I’m good. Better than good.

  Did that sound too smug? She might think it did so he deleted it and was left with nothing.

  ‘Come on!’ he cajoled himself. ‘What do you want to say to her?’

  He sat looking at the empty message box. What a depressing sight it was. For a moment, he thought back to the postcards he’d written to Bryony from around the world, each one full of his humour and love. It had been so easy to write to her because he’d had so much to say, but words had deserted him now and so he wrote the only thing that seemed to matter – matching her three words with three of his own.

  I miss you.

  Bryony cursed herself for not closing up the shop on time because it gave Colin a chance to catch her. The last few days she’d been sneaking away early, but he was on to her now and was standing by the fantasy shelves waiting for her.

  She knew she was being spectacularly unfair to this man. He’d been so patient with her when she’d given him so very little in terms of encouragement. She cast a glance at him now. His sweet face was slightly red from his day in the bakery. He’d just finished the catering for a corporate event, a new venture for his company, and he looked tired. She sighed to herself. The truth was her head was full of Ben at the moment so there was very little room to think about Colin.

  Ever since her father had told her about her mother’s little trick, she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about how she could do something similar. She knew that it was mean and childish and it was totally beneath her, she knew all that, and she could hear the voices of her family admonishing her, but she just couldn’t help it. Nobody knew how Ben Stratton had made her feel. They only had an inkling. But she’d felt such pain at what she’d seen as his betrayal that she had felt physically ill with it.

  She knew that, for the most part, her family expected her to be over it by now. It had been an unfortunate incident, something to pick herself up from and move on. But she had carried that pain deep inside her all those years. It had tainted everything she’d done and every thought she’d had. Everything had always come back to Ben because he was the person in the world whom she’d loved the most. Loved and trusted.

  She’d opened the dating website on her work computer and saw the very moment that Ben’s message arrived, but she’d been delaying opening it, hoping that Colin would leave first, but he seemed adamant on waiting for her.

  ‘Bryony?’ he said now, as if reminding her he was there. ‘You shutting up yet? It’s pretty late.’

  ‘I’ve just got to place this last order,’ she lied, opening Ben’s message.

  She blinked when she read it.

  I miss you.

  It wasn’t what she’d been expecting. She’d imagined some witty reply, some smug message to try and make her laugh, but those three simple words caught her completely off guard and her lips parted as she read them again.

  ‘There’s a dance at Torrington Barn Village Hall at the weekend,’ Colin said from the other side of the shop. ‘I can get us tickets. It’s a local band. They’re really good.’

  She looked up from the computer. ‘Oh, Colin – that’s not really me,’ she told him.

  ‘You don’t have to actually dance,’ he said. ‘We can just sit and listen to the music together.’

  ‘I think I’ll give it a miss,’ she said with what she hoped was an apologetic smile.

  He sighed. ‘Well, what do you want to do, Bryony? Because I’m at a loss here.’

  She was a little taken aback at his tone. She’d never heard him angry before.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  He frowned. ‘I mean, sometimes, I’m not really sure why you keep going out with me.’

  She looked at him, her heart full of regret at what she was doing to this poor man. She should tell him. She knew in her heart that it would be the right thing to do and yet she couldn’t bring herself to do it because a plan was quickly beginning to form in her mind – a plan which very much included Colin.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she told him. ‘I’d love to go to the dance.’

  ‘You would?’ He looked genuinely surprised by her turnaround.

  ‘I would. Thank you for asking me.’

  He beamed her a smile. ‘It’ll be a great evening. I’m sure we’ll have fun.’

  ‘Me too,’ she said. ‘I think it’s going to be a really fun night. Just let me place this order and then I can shut up the shop.’

  He nodded, looking pleased.

  Her fingers danced over the keyboards and, once she’d finished, she read the message over before pressing send, a naughty little smile playing over her lips. Oh, yes, the night of the dance was going to be fun alright.

  Chapter Twelve

  Ben had lost all track of time. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been sitting looking at the screen of his tablet when Georgia came in.

  ‘What’s the matter with you? Your eyes are all agog!’

  ‘Look at this for me, will you?’ he said, scooting across the sofa to make room for her.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘That dating website.’

  ‘I knew it was a good idea,’ she said. ‘It was, wasn’t it?’

  ‘I think you might have been right – read that.’

  ‘Is it from who I think it is?’

  ‘Well, of course it is. Just read it!’

  ‘Okay, okay.’

  Ben read it through for the hundredth time as his sister read it for the first.

  ‘Tell me what it says,’ he said after a moment.

  ‘I think you know what it says.’

  ‘Tell me anyway. I want to make sure I’ve got it right.’

  ‘She’s asking you out.’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘That what it looks like. I’ve heard about this dance too. It’s meant to be quite good.’

  ‘I don’t really dance,’ Ben announced.

  ‘I wouldn’t let that stop you from going,’ Georgia said.

  ‘I won’t. I’m not.’

  ‘How did this happen so quickly?’ Georgia asked.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I mean, one minute she wasn’t talking to you and the next she’s telling you to meet her at this dance.’

  Ben shrugged. ‘Maybe she’s forgiven me.’

  Georgia frowned. ‘That quickly?’

  ‘Well, she’s had a few years.’

  ‘Yeah, but you said she was icy cold to you when you tried to talk to her. I don’t get this sudden U-turn.’

  ‘What are you saying?’

  ‘I’m saying you should proceed with caution, little brother.’

  ‘Hey, I’m your big brother.’

  ‘Maybe, but that doesn’t mean you know what you’re doing when it comes to women.’

  ‘Oh, really?’

  ‘Really.’ Georgia got up from the sofa. ‘I just think you should be careful. You’re acting like she’s proposed to you or something.’
<
br />   ‘No I’m not.’

  ‘Yes you are – you’ve got a silly grin on your face as if you’ve won the lottery.’

  He tutted at her. She was being ridiculous. ‘This is better than the lottery.’

  ‘Not if she’s fooling around.’

  ‘Why would she be fooling around?’

  ‘Because you broke her heart?’

  ‘Ah, there is that,’ Ben acceded. ‘But I think this is pretty genuine.’

  ‘You only think that because that’s what you want to think.’

  ‘So you think I should ignore it?’

  Georgia sighed. ‘Just be careful, okay?’

  He nodded and started typing.

  ‘What are you doing?’ she asked him.

  ‘Sending a reply.’

  ‘Not now. Not tonight. You don’t want to look too keen, do you?’

  ‘Hey, didn’t you just say that it’s wrong to play games?’ Ben asked..

  ‘Not exactly, but I think it would be wrong to let her get the upper hand so easily, don’t you?’

  Ben thought about this for a moment. He’d waited years to see Bryony again, to get close to her and tell her how he felt. Surely a day or two more wasn’t going to hurt. Still, he couldn’t help acknowledging how frustrating it was to wait. There was nothing he wanted more than to hold her in his arms. He ached with longing for her. She was the only woman he had ever really loved. He’d tried to switch his feelings off so many times in the past. After he’d stopped writing to her from abroad, he’d done his best to move on, but it simply hadn’t worked. There was nobody else for him, he was quite convinced of that, and he knew his sister had come to understand that too. When he’d first arrived home, she’d been horrified to hear that he was still in love with Bryony and had encouraged him to move on, but she’d soon realised that that was hopeless. It was good to have her support, even though she was telling him to slow down.

  ‘Ben?’ Georgia prompted him now, motioning to his tablet.

  Ben sighed. ‘I’ll wait,’ he said through gritted teeth.

  Bryony was completely stumped. She’d genuinely thought that Ben would reply within the hour if not sooner. Wasn’t this what he wanted? She was inviting him back into her life. The least he could do was respond.

  She shook her head. She was probably getting herself worked up over nothing. After all, she’d only just sent the message. She’d check again later.

  Looking out of the window of her terrace, she noticed what a beautiful evening it was. The spring sunshine had encouraged a bright row of tulips to open in her tiny front garden and the sky was the softest of blues. It was far too lovely an evening to spend inside brooding, she thought.

  Quickly, Bryony changed her clothes and walked the short distance to Cuckoo Cottage, knocking on the door of the pink house a few minutes later.

  ‘Hello, my dear,’ Flo said when she answered.

  ‘I hope you don’t mind me just turning up.’

  ‘Of course not. You’re always welcome here. Come on in. Sonny’s just doing his homework.’

  They walked through to the back of the house and Bryony saw Sonny hard at work at the kitchen table. He looked up when she came in and gave the tiniest of smiles.

  ‘It’s Maths so I’m trying to avoid him questioning me,’ Flo said. ‘I used to hate Maths as a kid. Hate it now as an adult too.’

  Bryony laughed. ‘Figures are sent to try us. I’m lucky that my dad still handles the books for my shop. I’d hate to be in charge of that. I mean, I have offered to do it because it’s not really fair that Dad does it, but I think he can see I don’t really enjoy it.’

  ‘You’re very lucky to have him.’

  ‘I know,’ Bryony said, thinking of the support her father gave her. ‘I’ve been telling him about me coming here.’

  ‘Oh yes?’

  ‘He’s thrilled that I’m showing an interest in gardening and I’ve been wondering if I could help you with the actual growing side of things. I mean, once we get all the wild areas under control.’

  ‘Well, that would be marvellous,’ Flo said. ‘Let me grab my jacket and we can have a poke around in the sheds. ‘You be okay, Sonny?’

  The boy looked up and nodded and the two women left the house together, crossing the garden towards the shed.

  ‘I’ll just move these tools,’ Flo said, shifting an old fork and spade which had been leaning against the door. Bryony hadn’t been inside the shed and she had to admit to being surprised when Flo opened the door. From the state of the garden, she’d expected the shed to be a dark, damp, spidery sort of a place, but it was surprisingly light and tidy. A potting bench flanked one side and rows of terracotta and plastic pots were stacked underneath.

  ‘Flo, this is lovely,’ she told her.

  ‘My little heaven,’ she said. ‘I’d rather be in here potting up my plants than doing any sort of housework. It’s especially nice when it’s raining. It makes a delicious sound on the corrugated iron roof. It’s like a dozen Fred Astaires dancing up there.’

  Bryony laughed.

  ‘Now, let me see. This is what we want.’ Flo picked up a large rusty tin and placed it on the bench before opening it. It was full of seed packets and old brown envelopes with handwritten notes on them.

  ‘I think of this as one of my tins of dreams.’

  Bryony smiled. ‘What are they all?’

  ‘There are all sorts of things in here. Salads, vegetables, herbs. Take a look. There are dates on the back. I fear some of them might be long expired and we might be too late to plant others. I’ve already got a few things on the go – some tomatoes and salad which I started off in the house in March – but I never have time to do as much as I want.’

  Bryony grabbed a handful of packets and started reading. It was like entering another world where a different language was used. If it hadn’t been for the photos of some of the plants on the packets, she wouldn’t have had a clue as to what they were.

  ‘Costoluto fiorentina,’ Bryony read. ‘What’s this? It sounds like an Italian princess.’

  ‘That’s a beautiful big ribbed tomato. I’m growing those already.’

  ‘Rainbow chard – Dad grows that.’

  ‘Keep that packet out. I’ve got one row on the go, but we can definitely plant another.’

  Bryony selected some more packets – some cabbages, kale and squashes which she liked the sound of. It was all very exciting.

  ‘This squash,’ she said to Flo as she held up a packet, ‘it just says “sunburst”. What’s it like?’

  ‘It’s a kind of patty pan – a scalloped-edge squash. A bright yellow one.’

  ‘Sounds fabulous. We’ve got to plant that!’

  ‘How about flowers?’ Flo asked. ‘Do you like flowers?’

  ‘What woman doesn’t?’

  ‘Then try that tin there,’ she said, nodding towards a tin on one of the shelves on the other side of the shed which was suitably decorated with painted flowers.

  ‘It’s like Christmas,’ Bryony said, opening it.

  ‘Better than Christmas,’ Flo said. ‘Christmas only lasts for one day, but flowers are gifts which last for months.’

  ‘Oh, sunflowers! We’ve got to have those,’ Bryony cried.

  ‘Absolutely. A garden isn’t complete without a few yellow giants.’

  ‘Zinnias,’ Bryony read from another packet.

  ‘Most definitely. Those are giant zinnias – wonderful to pick for the house. I’m hopeless at floral displays but they’re so easy to plonk into a vase.’

  ‘What’s this one?’ Bryony asked. She’d picked up a brown envelope with handwriting on.

  ‘Phacelia – good for the bees. Bees are especially attracted to blues and purples.’

  ‘And heartsease. Didn’t Shakespeare mention it?’

  ‘I don’t know about that,’ Flo confessed, ‘but they look nice in a hanging basket.’

  ‘I’ll keep it out then.’

  ‘I tell you, Bryony, there i
s nothing better than picking your own vegetables from your garden. To grow something you can eat, well, that’s the most basic of human needs, isn’t it?’

  ‘Dad says that too,’ Bryony told her. ‘I once asked him what was more important – his plants or his books, and he went really red in the face and told me it was impossible for him to choose. It would be like trying to choose between breathing and swallowing.’

  ‘You just wait until you harvest your first,’ Flo paused. ‘What have you chosen?’ She picked up some of the packets Bryony had selected. ‘Nothing will taste as good as these because you’ll know what’s gone into it. You’ll have cleared and manured the land. You’ll have selected the seed and planted it, nurtured it, weeded around it and protected it from the birds and butterflies. And then there’ll be the flowers. When you’re out gathering armfuls of blooms, well, if you’re not smiling then…’ Flo’s words petered out and she looked lost in a wistful daydream.

  It was then that Bryony heard the strangest sound.

  ‘What’s that?’ she asked, straining to hear.

  ‘Oh, Lord!’ Flo said. ‘It’s my neighbour and his trumpet again.’

  Bryony grinned, guessing what was coming next. Sure enough, a moment later, the donkeys, Belle and Beau, started braying, filling the evening air with their disapproval.

  Flo shook her head. ‘With any luck, it won’t last long.’

  The two women returned to their work, spending a happy hour filling trays and pots with compost, planting seeds and writing labels. It was a wonderfully repetitive job that was all consuming and, when they’d finished, Bryony realised that she hadn’t once thought about Ben during that time. No wonder her father was always so calm, she thought. Gardening was really good for the soul.

  ‘It’s getting dark,’ Flo said at last. ‘We’ll finish these another day.’

  Bryony was loathe to leave the little shed, but consoled herself with the knowledge that she could come back very soon.

  It was as she was walking down the little path back to the house that she screamed.