by Rachel Dove
Lose my cool, thought Ben to himself. I am in danger of losing more than that.
Seven
Amanda’s breath caught in her throat as she looked down over the fell. ‘It’s beautiful up here,’ she sighed. Ben came to stand at the side of her.
‘I know, right? Look over there, that’s Baker Street.’
Amanda followed his finger to the small street where she now lived. ‘Oh yes!’ She frowned. ‘My shop looks a little bland compared to the others. All decked out in flowers, do they do this every year?’
Ben nodded, turning to flick out the blanket under his arm. His jeep was parked nearby on the grassy hilltop. ‘Oh yes, the women in Westfield get pretty competitive. You see there?’ He pointed to a large mansion, with huge, beautiful landscaped grounds. ‘That there is Westfield Hall, Agatha Mayweather’s home. Archie, her gardener, prides himself on the best, and the women go green with envy and turn themselves inside out trying to beat him.’
Amanda smiled. A far cry from the bland flat she had in London, with the pitiful pot plant she had buried in the landfill in the sky before she left.
‘I can’t keep anything alive, I definitely don’t have a green thumb.’
Ben sniggered. ‘Speak to Dotty, she will help you, she loves all that. We can get your shop looking like a little oasis of Eden in no time. If you are staying, that is.’
Amanda didn’t answer. She had a faraway look about her as she gazed down at Baker Street. Not for the first time that day either, Ben noted.
‘Shall we eat?’ he asked softly, the fact she hadn’t answered his tentative question about staying playing on his mind.
Amanda nodded, and walked to the car with him.
A short time later, the food was all laid out. He shrugged at her gruffly. ‘Dotty packed this, I apologise.’
Ben reached into the bottom of the huge cooler and pulled out a bottle chiller. Inside were two tumblers and a cool bottle of rosé wine. ‘While it’s here, you might as well have it. Would you like a glass?’
Does a bear do its business in the woods? ‘Yes, lovely, thanks. You having one?’
Ben nodded. ‘Just the one, driving and all.’
Amanda smiled as he poured the wine. He was so responsible, a breath of fresh air from past dates. Was this a date? It was starting to feel like one, with the wine, the food, the romantic intonations of their solitary outdoor picnic.
They began eating in companionable silence. Thinking back, Amanda couldn’t remember ever sharing a nice meal with Marcus, let alone a romantic picnic on a fell. Post-coital takeout in bed didn’t count, she was pretty sure. She found herself wondering again whether this was a date, and squashed the vastly conflicting feelings it caused down into her gut. She sipped at her wine and then tucked into a second sandwich—thick white bread, slathered in butter, with meaty slices of ham. Dotty really knew how to put a picnic together.
‘So, Amanda, what made you come to Westfield?’ Ben asked tentatively. She finished chewing the bite of sandwich, formulating a vague answer that would satisfy him without having to go into the sordid details.
‘A change of scene, I guess. I was feeling a little stifled in London, so I took a chance.’ It sounded hollow to her ears, but she hoped that Ben would be satisfied with the answer, because she couldn’t bring herself to talk about it. Or think about it. Or put it into words for that matter.
He nodded, and Amanda puffed out the breath she didn’t know she had been holding.
He turned his head to her. ‘And is it everything you hoped? Are you happy, I mean?’
Amanda gave a small nod, pursing her lips in thought.
‘Yes, so far. Ask me again in six months. Once I turn Westfield into the hulking metropolis I want it to be.’
Ben stared at her, horror-struck, before he noticed her sly smile.
‘That’s not funny,’ he said, laughing awkwardly.
Amanda raised her eyebrows at him. ‘Only saying what you are thinking.’
Ben offered her a strawberry, choosing to change the subject.
‘So, what did you do, before I mean?’
Amanda bit into the huge juicy red fruit. ‘I worked in commercial law, for a big firm.’
Ben frowned. ‘A lawyer?’ Seeing her nod, his frown deepened. ‘So, completely new life for you?’
Amanda caught a weird look on his face. Disappointed? She should have known, he didn’t like city girls. She bet that Tanya had been a Westfieldian too, all rosy cheeks, apple pie baking and child-bearing hips. OK, she was clutching at stereotypes now, and Dotty had already told her that she had hotfooted it to London, but seriously, why did she care what he thought of her. Why did that bother her, anyway?
She realised she had not answered his question and he was looking at her expectantly. ‘Yes, I needed a change. The rat race isn’t everything it’s cracked up to be.’
Ben seemed relieved at her words, his face brightening. ‘Their loss, our gain, huh?’
Amanda chuckled. ‘Hopefully, once the shop gets established.’
Ben saw her face fall again, and wished, not for the first time, that he could read what was going on in her head. ‘Don’t you miss it?’
Amanda looked out over the fell, her face a mask as she thought of the pain and stress of the last few weeks in London. She whispered, ‘No, not much.’
Ben looked at her, one eyebrow raised. ‘I know I went on a bit the other day, but I meant what I said. People don’t like change around here, what we have works, and people have tried and failed before to come in and introduce new things. We just like things how they are. I was warning you. It’s all well and good to come in and set up shop, but then when things go wrong and you go back to your life, we villagers end up picking up the pieces. I was warning you for your own good.’
Amanda bristled at his tone. ‘Warning me for my own good? You sound like my father.’
Ben shook his head. ‘I am not trying to be a jerk. I can just see how things are going to go, and the people around here are sick of it. With the cuts to community services, people are fed up.’
Amanda drained the wine in her glass. ‘You left and came back, did they petition against you doing that?’
Ben scoffed. ‘I was born here, I bought an existing business from a retiree, I didn’t come in trying to change things.’
Amanda put her glass down in a strop. ‘I have bought a business selling crafts, I am hardly Donald Trump. What the hell is your problem?’
Ben did not reply, and, when she looked at him, she could see that she had annoyed him. Good, she thought. Who the hell did he think he was!
He spoke quietly, breaking the silence. ‘Are you ready to go? I have some things to take care of this afternoon.’ Amanda felt like someone had thrown ice water over her. She tried not to tear up and started to put the food away, nodding once.
‘Fine, I have seen and heard quite enough anyway. I have a business to run.’
Ben could have kicked himself. He had gone and done it again. He had wanted to end the day better than this. He had known all along what Agatha and Dotty were up to, trying to push them together, but they had backed the wrong horse on this one. He was better off alone, despite the silver set of the village trying to marry him off to every eligible woman below forty. He drove the jeep slowly back to Baker Street, willing the journey to end.
Amanda had not spoken since they set off, and he kept sneaking glances at her, but her head was firmly turned towards the passenger window. He resisted the urge to reach for her hands, which were tightly knotted together on her lap, to apologise, but he stayed silent. All too soon, they were at New Lease of Life. Ben clicked on the handbrake and turned off the engine. He silently wished that she would invite him in for coffee, a chance to chat again—it couldn’t end on this sour note—but he was stubborn. Amanda took off her seat belt and put her hands on her thighs. Ben did the same, and they each sat there, not willing to break the silence. Ben opened the door slowly, turning to look at his enchanting
and annoying passenger.
‘Do you want me to get your bag?’
Amanda snapped into life suddenly, opening her door. Ben rushed to meet her. She looked at him in question, seemingly surprised by his closeness. He smiled ruefully at her, taking her hand to help her down from the jeep. She didn’t look at him; her gaze was focused on their hands. A frown was fixed across her face, and Ben wanted to smooth the lines out with his fingers. She closed her warm hand around his after a beat, and he felt the familiar jolt once again. Would this always happen when he was near her? Why did his body not feel the same as his brain? She broke the spell by moving away towards the jeep, dropping his hand from hers. He followed her, and passed her bag to her from the back of the vehicle.
‘Amanda, I …’
‘Don’t bother, OK? You have said quite enough. Thanks for the tour.’
She took her bag from him and turned to the door. When she opened her door and turned back, he was gone.
Eight
Amanda was drowning. Sinking in layers of taffeta and paper. She was dressed in her nightclothes, and gasping for breath. The layers of fabric and sheets of typed legalese constricted around her body, strips of lace gripping around her wrists, her ankles, pulling her down further. She pulled against them, but they only tightened further. She couldn’t breathe, and panic set in. She fought harder, looking up through the mesh of material to see a chink of light at the top. A chink she swam to, kicking out her limbs with gusto. She was just about to break through the surface, taste that first gulp of air, when something solid gripped her ankle. Screaming silently, she thrashed and turned to the terror that held her. She saw Marcus’s face, laughing, calling to her, his lip curled in a menacing sneer. She kicked out at him, fighting for her life now, her right to live. He released his grip, and she kicked and aimed for the light, her lungs full, burning. She almost broke through to the surface, when she woke up. Her bed sheets were wrapped tightly around her, and she was slick with sweat.
Her heart pumping, she ran to the bathroom, dragging her sheet with her. She splashed water onto her face, ignoring the shocked pale expression of the girl that stared back at her from the mirror. Two in as many nights. Fab. She had thought that these dreams were finally over, but they had come back Sunday night. She would have blamed the wine or cheese, or something else she would normally eat on an evening, but the fact was that the last few days she had not touched a drop, and her appetite was as non-existent as her profits.
She returned to her bedroom and dragged herself over to her wardrobe, resolving to get dressed and go down to the shop, get some work done. At least her creative side hadn’t deserted her; in fact, she had made some lovely things in the last few days, and was building up a nice stock for the shop. She needed to kick these dreams, get rid of the feeling that her old life was going to come and encroach on her new one. It hadn’t been the best start, granted, but before her day with Ben she had felt happy, hopeful even. The ending of the day with him had deflated her more than she thought it would, and she couldn’t help thinking about him. She had no reason to feel like this, after just a couple of meetings, but she couldn’t help poring over the day, wondering what she had said or done that rankled him so much. Maybe we are just too different, she thought to herself. I am a city girl, after all, trying to fit in with a new community. An outsider, she realised. Maybe she would never fit in around here. But, if she didn’t fit in here, where did she fit?
The day passed like the others, a few straggling tourists coming in, not buying much, and Amanda kept herself busy, trying not to hover over them. She was a little worried that her desperation came off her in waves, and was terrified that she would end up chasing the customers down the street before too long, screaming, ‘Buy my wares, buy my wares!’
She was just closing the shutters when a car pulled up behind her. Her heart caught, betraying the thought she hoped it was Ben. She turned to see Taylor smiling at her from Agatha’s car.
‘Hi, Amanda, are you ready for this?’
Amanda laughed, putting her keys in her bag. ‘As ready as I’ll ever be, Mr Taylor.’
He opened the door for her. Definitely country folk manners then, she thought, thinking of how Ben had opened the doors for her.
‘Please, Amanda, call me Sebastian. Mr Taylor was my father.’
Amanda nodded. ‘So, Sebastian, how long have you worked for Mrs Mayweather?’
Taylor pulled away from Baker Street. ‘My family has worked for the Mayweathers for many generations. My father was butler for Mr Mayweather and, when Mrs Mayweather moved in, she changed the game a little. So now I am estate manager, and I help Agatha as much as she will allow me to.’
Amanda smiled, thinking of the matriarch that he worked for. ‘I bet that is pretty hard some days. She seems like she runs a pretty tight ship.’
Taylor laughed as he drove through the village. ‘Yep, she sure does. She is not that scary though, a teddy bear when you get to know her. And she seems to have taken a shine to you. Tonight should be fun.’ Taylor cranked up the radio and they drove along. Passing the vet’s surgery, Amanda looked out at the surgery and Ben’s house. His jeep was parked outside, and she looked for signs of life at the windows. The lights were all out, but there was a small light on in the surgery. Taylor saw her looking and she turned her eyes away quickly, embarrassed.
She was just about to start a conversation up when they turned into the long drive of Mayweather Hall, and the words dried up in her throat. She thought Baker Street was pretty, but this place was spectacular. The shale drive was long and windy, lined each side with majestic trees, full with colourful blossoms. After turning the corner, they drove up the left side of a looped drive. The centre of the loop was filled with a water feature—a bronze girl whispering into a boy’s ear whilst he looked down at the water. Taylor pulled up and gazed up at the mansion. ‘Beautiful, isn’t it? Still takes my breath away, every time.’
‘It’s lovely,’ Amanda agreed. ‘Like it jumped from the pages of a book. And those statues are so adorable.’
Taylor opened her door and helped her out. ‘I always used to tease Mrs Mayweather when we were children that these two were us.’
Amanda looked at the statues again. The two statues seemed so happy with each other, full of life. ‘You knew Mrs Mayweather when you were kids?’
Taylor walked up the driveway to the front doors. ‘Yep, we went to school together. We all know each other around here.’ Taylor caught the upset look on her face. ‘You will too, soon enough. You’ll see. People are pretty friendly.’
He opened the front door and was immediately thrown back by two huge grey flashes. Amanda jumped and opened her mouth to scream, when a huge beast jumped on her too, knocking her to the floor. Whatever it was, it seemed to be trying to eat her face. She scrambled to stand back up, winded from hitting the floor. The beast let up and licked again once at her face, tickling her nose. She could see Taylor, laughing as he pulled back the two dogs. ‘Dogs’ was a slight understatement though, Amanda could see as she got to her feet and brushed herself down. These two were like huge, shaggy grey donkeys.
‘Meet Maisie and Buster, Mrs Mayweather’s pride and joys. Come on in.’
Amanda picked off a bit of dog hair from her clothes as she followed him in, keeping a slight distance from the dogs to avoid being jet washed with drool again. They were cute though. The dogs, once released by Taylor, went to the fire and sprawled out on the huge hearth rug, sighing and snuffing loudly as they settled down. Amanda took a minute to look around the impressive hallway, before Agatha’s voice rang out from behind her.
‘Hello, dear, so glad you could come. Sorry about my children, they are a little excitable at times.’
Amanda laughed. ‘No problem, they are lovely.’
Agatha motioned for her to come to a large doorway. ‘I have prepared a light supper in here, with some of the ladies of the town. I hope that’s OK?’
Amanda swallowed hard. ‘Er … yes, th
at’s fine.’ She found herself wondering whether Tanya would be sitting there, waiting for her. Or the local firing squad. Was this a last supper before they rode her out of town on the next hay cart?
They moved into the room. It was as beautiful as the hallway—all high ceilings, ornate mouldings and comfy overstuffed couches and chairs. Along one wall ran a large table, complete with tablecloths, groaning with food and tea and coffee. It looked more like a wedding buffet than a ‘light supper’. Four ladies sat in various chairs and sofas, around a large coffee table, drinking tea and eating, chatting away. They all stopped talking and gazed at Amanda as she walked in. Dotty was the first to get up and walked towards Amanda. Obviously sensing her embarrassment, she guided her to a wing-backed chair next to hers. ‘Hello, Amanda dear, how are you?’
Amanda smiled, grateful for the kind gesture. ‘I am fine, thanks, lovely to be here.’
Agatha waved her away, taking a seat herself. ‘Oh pish posh, we don’t stand on ceremony here, my darling. Please get something to eat, just help yourself.’ Amanda smiled warmly at Agatha, and she continued on. ‘You have met Dotty, she runs the vet’s with Benjamin, then there is Hetty, she runs the greengrocer’s, Grace, she runs the health centre, and this is Marlene. She is retired now, and helps me to run various events and organisations.’
All four ladies smiled and murmured hellos. Marlene in particular was staring at Amanda with great interest, till Agatha leaned over and closed her mouth for her gently. Grace giggled, her tight silver French pleat not moving an inch. All the ladies were dressed elegantly, and she noticed Grace was knitting, and balancing a cup and saucer of tea on her lap. Agatha picked up her own cup and took a sip, one finger in the air. ‘So, how did the tour go on Sunday?’