Without knowing the girl, without setting eyes on her face, he knew he’d fallen in love with the person she’d portrayed in her journal. She was kind and gentle, full of heart and unafraid to face whatever life threw her way. She’d made him stop and think and he had to meet the girl who’d changed his life.
It was a long journey; he was tired but excited too and caught a cab to a pretty B&B the cabbie had recommended in his broad, warm accent.
“Are ye on your holidays, lad?” the man asked, through a hearty smile and sparkling blue eyes.
“I’m meeting a friend,” Tom explained, lifting his holdall out of the boot and turning to gaze at the pretty stone cottage with pots of daffodils around the door.
“That’s nice for ye. Mrs. Macey will look after ye fine here. She’s a great cook, if I do say so meself.”
Tom crooked an eyebrow and waited.
“Jed Macey.” Jed held out a rough hand. “Lizzie’s my wife and she cooks the best breakfast for miles around.”
“Well, you look healthy enough.” Tom took the proffered hand and returned the friendship Jed gave. “I’m looking forward to it.”
The room was clean and comfy, the bed welcoming and Mrs. Macey insisted on Tom joining them for dinner at the large wooden table in the center of her kitchen.
“I did warn you.” Jed chuckled as Tom tucked into a warming stew with fresh crusty bread and strong hot tea.
“You didn’t do it enough justice.” Tom laughed quietly. “This is the best I’ve ever tasted, Lizzie.”
Mrs. Macey, Lizzie, pushed back a stray hair from her face and blushed prettily across her cheeks.
“I’m glad you like it; there’s plenty more in the pot.”
Tom excused himself, pleading fatigue but secretly wanting to finish the diary before he handed it back. He quickly showered and lay in the warm, comfy bed before turning to the most recent entries in the book.
“Greg and I had another row tonight. He’s so possessive. He told me off for talking to Maggie’s brother but I didn’t take that. He didn’t have the right to tell me not to talk to someone I’ve known all my life and I told him so. And I told him it was over, that I didn’t love him anymore.”
Tom paused, reaching over for his glass of water, his throat dry. The page he was reading was dated last week, Monday, the seventeenth but the writing had been smudged as though she’d dropped water on the ink. He frowned as he realized the water had been tears, which meant Jessica had been crying over this Greg. He sighed deeply, saddened by the thought she had been upset enough to cry, but realizing with anticipation, that she no longer had a boyfriend.
“Mum keeps telling me that there’s someone special out there who’s made just for me but I don’t know if that’s true. If you are there, come to me, tell me your name and prove Mum right.”
It was Jessica’s last entry and screamed of loneliness but Tom closed the diary with a smile and shut his eyes to sleep.
“Tomorrow, Jessica, I’ll prove your mum right.”
Chapter Four
Breakfast was as delicious and hearty as promised and Tom found himself refusing a third helping. With Jed’s directions, Tom set off for the town, a two mile walk away. It would help to work off the breakfast and give him time to think.
The countryside was pretty, with hedgerows full of fluttering insects and little creatures, which skittered away when he drew close and the roads were deserted except for the odd car and quirky tractor. Everyone who passed gave a wave as though they knew him and Tom marvelled at the friendliness of the locals; it wasn’t something he’d ever encountered in his home town. The two miles passed in no time and he found himself on the outskirts of a quaint village—one old coaching inn on the corner, a post office and convenience store on the other with a village green and pond nestling in-between. It was idyllic and Tom found himself smiling broadly at the sheer charm of it all. There was nothing like it in London where he lived and he was overjoyed at being there. The diary had introduced him to more than just the existence of Jessica. This was the rural setting he’d been yearning for, the peace he craved. He could do his job anywhere; the Internet and phone ensured he could keep in contact with Jake wherever he lived and he knew this was where he wanted to be. It felt so right to him and, with Jessica’s help, he could make this small town his home.
Bailey’s Buns was smaller than Tom expected but then he was used to the eateries in London. The teashop itself held no more than ten tables with a spotless wide window and the tables covered with yellow and white checked tablecloths. The windows were adorned with red tissue paper hearts and a handwritten message wished everyone a happy Valentine’s Day. Each table had a pretty pink rosebud sitting in a crystal vase in the center. Everything was exactly as Jessica had described it. Tom paused outside, peering in the window, but all the tables were occupied so he walked past before watching from the other side of the street.
“Are you lost, son?” An elderly gentleman with a wooden walking stick inquired, with a frown of concern etched on his weathered brow.
“What? Oh no, I-I-er,” Tom stuttered. How could he begin to explain why he was there? “I found this diary, it was given to me on the train and I thought it was mine but it belongs to someone called Jessica Sanders.” He knew he sounded like a blathering idiot at best but the older man simply nodded his head.
“That’s our Jessie. She works part time at the Buns but she doesn’t start until lunchtime. She’s at college,” he said proudly. “She won’t be in until twelve. Do you want me to return the diary to her?”
Tom shook his head, feeling warmth spread across his cheek as he blushed.
“No, that’s all right. I want to give it to her.” He glanced at his watch. It was only eleven o’clock and he had an hour before Jessica started work. Thanking the old man, Tom marched down the street, pausing outside the only estate agent’s window before stepping inside.
Chapter Five
Fifty minutes later, he returned to the street, clutching a handful of particulars about houses for sale in the area and with a flame of excited hope in his chest. His second stop, after the florist’s, was Bailey’s Buns and an empty table in the far corner of the room, placing the single red rose on the floor, out of sight.
“I’ll have a milky coffee and a scone with all the trimmings, please,” he told the girl in the white pinny as she took his order. She wore a nametag, declaring her to be Becky, the girl Jessica had mentioned in the diary. She smiled at him, before promising to bring his order in just a jiffy. Tom watched her go, noting her friendly interest, but while Becky was pretty enough, she wasn’t Jessica.
The coffee was frothy with a sprinkling of chocolate on the top and the scone was filled with fresh cream and thick strawberry jam. Jessica had been right about that too; he’d never tasted anything better. Dead on noon, the door to the street opened and a girl with fair hair, carrying a pile of books, dashed in.
“Am I late?” she gasped, nipping behind the counter and into a side room, her voice trailing behind her. “Has Greg been in? I saw him at the end of Dragger Street and had to dash the other way before he spotted me.”
“I’ve not seen him today,” Becky answered as she filled a large mug with strong, hot tea. “Is he still being a pain?”
“He won’t accept that we’re finished. Dad says he’ll have a word but I’m old enough to deal with this myself.” Jessica stepped out, her long, fair hair pulled back into a ponytail and she tied a white apron around her waist.
“Have you seen the new fella?” Becky nudged Jessica, indicating with a nod the dark-headed stranger sitting in the corner. “I saw him first, so hands off.”
Jessica laughed; Becky was always the same. If she spotted a handsome man, she always pronounced ownership over him. It was a game they liked to play but Jessica wasn’t so sure she liked the rules anymore when
the man lifted his head to look at her. His hair was dark, almost black, but his eyes were a rich chocolate brown and crinkled with the warm smile he offered.
Tom looked up at the sound of sweet feminine chatter as the two girls laughed. Despite her descriptive skills, she hadn’t done justice to her own looks. Her long, blonde hair was pulled off her face, revealing her pretty features. Her eyes were a deep green, like a cat’s and shone with the joke she and Becky shared. Her mouth was wide and full, displaying clean, white teeth and a sense of warm humor.
She shared a long look with him before looking away, but not before he’d noticed the blush on her cheeks.
“Could I have another milky coffee please?” The tall, dark and very handsome stranger smiled, handing Jessica his white mug.
“I’ll do it.” Becky nudged forward but Jessica was there first.
“With pleasure,” Jessica breathed in her soft accent. “I’ll bring it over.”
“I saw him first,” Becky reminded her with a deep sulky look.
“He asked me,” Jessica teased back as she carried the drink to the man’s table. “Is there anything else I can get for you?”
“The coffee will be fine, thanks, but I’d enjoy it better if you joined me. The sign on the window wished everyone a happy Valentine ’s Day and you wouldn’t want mine to be unhappy, would you?”
Jessica laughed again. She was used to the offers of coffee and she usually turned them down on principle, but this time it was different.
“I’d love to, but I’ve only just got here and I don’t get a break for ages.”
“That’s fine, I’m not going anywhere.”
“What did he say?” Becky grabbed her arm back at the counter and demanded to know everything.
“He asked me to join him for a coffee,” Jessica grinned but Becky wasn’t impressed.
“Every old man who comes in here says the same,” Becky muttered. “So you turned him down?”
“No.” Jessica lowered her head so Becky couldn’t see the look on her face. “I said I couldn’t just yet and he said he’d wait.” Jessica left Becky to her gasps of astonishment while she cleared a vacant table.
“Have you been avoiding me?” The street door opened and a large man stepped into the teahouse. Greg marched straight up to Jessica, grabbing hold of her arm in a possessive manner so she couldn’t walk away. His long pale hair was greasy, well overdue a wash and the stubble on his face was more than a day’s worth.
“Let me go, Greg. I’ve told you before I don’t want to see you anymore.” Jessica tried to pull her arm away but Greg held her fast.
“I think the lady told you to let her go.” Tom stood, his eyes hooded and his voice calm but there was no mistaking the meaning in his voice. He was a few inches taller than Greg although not as bulky. “Greg, is it? Jessica’s told me a lot about you. Now, I’d like you to take your hand off my lady and walk back out the door you came through.”
“Your lady?” Greg asked, dumbfounded. He hadn’t believed Jessica when she’d told him she was seeing somebody else but this new man claimed the same. Greg stared at the stranger before glancing at Jessica’s face, noting the flush on her cheeks. Dropping her arm, he backed away into the street, all his bluster dissolving in the thought of what a fool he appeared. She wasn’t worth it; the stranger could have her.
“Are you all right?” Tom asked, his voice still calm.
“I’m fine, thank you. That was a very brave thing to do. You don’t know me….” Jessica paused, her brows knitting together in a frown. “How did you know my name was Jessica?”
“Your name tag, of course.” Tom smiled once before returning to his coffee and the manuscript he’d retrieved from his pocket. He had plenty of reading material to keep him occupied until she could join him for coffee.
Chapter Six
“Well?” Becky beamed, holding her hand out. Jessica’s nametag looked up at her from Becky’s palm and Jessica turned with a puzzled face toward the man in the corner. An hour later with the lunchtime rush over, Jessica sat down at Tom’s table with two milky coffees.
“How did you know my name? I wasn’t wearing my nametag.” Jessica absentmindedly stirred her drink but she watched the face of the man lifting his head to look at her.
“Call it a hunch.”
“It was a very accurate hunch,” Jessica retorted, watching the man delve into an inside pocket of his jacket. “That’s my diary!” she exclaimed. “How did you get hold of this? I thought I’d lost it.”
“It was handed to me. I was changing trains and a guard thought it was mine. I was halfway home before I realized,” Tom explained with a hopeful smile. Jessica took the book out of his hands and held it to her chest. She’d taken it when she’d visited her aunty but had misplaced it on the journey home. She’d contacted the railway company’s lost property department but no one had handed it in and she’d cried over losing this book with its mishmash of pages and scraps of paper stuck in whenever she’d run out of space. The leather was faded, worn, but the inside was priceless and contained her thoughts and dreams for more than ten years. Her relief faded and her eyes grew wary.
“You didn’t read it, did you?”
Tom hesitated; this would be the tricky part. How did he explain that he knew all her most secret thoughts but they had made him fall in love with her? He had violated everything private she’d written in there but he knew he couldn’t lie about it, not to her.
“Yes,” he said softly. “I read it all.”
“I-I can’t believe…” she stammered, aghast at what he had read. She liked the look of him, liked that he’d rushed to her rescue, liked that he seemed to like her too but knew he would think her a foolish child through her inane ramblings and childish wittering.
“Jessica, I used it to find you. I had to meet you. I shouldn’t have read the diary, it was wrong of me, but the more I read the more I knew I had to find you. I love the way you write, the way your thoughts emerge onto paper.” Tom gushed, leaning forward to capture one of her hands in his. “I’m glad you broke up with Greg because that leaves you free for me.”
“I don’t know…” Jessica started but couldn’t think of a way to finish. He liked her; he’d travelled just to find her. Wasn’t that the plot of a romantic novel?
“Jessica.” Tom sighed, reaching to take the diary from her other hand. He opened the book to the last entry and placed it down in front of her allowing her to read the words she had written and handing her the red rose before saying, “Hello, my name is Tom and your mum was right.”
Chapter Seven
“Come on, there are other people in this house who want to go out, you know.” William banged loudly on the bathroom door, but the music from the radio drowned out his words.
Jessica grinned as she stepped leisurely out of the sweetly scented frothy water. She’d ensured she’d used enough from the hot water tank that her brother would have to wait until it heated up again. He’d done it often enough to her.
She sang along to the love song on the radio, a gentle melody telling the tale of two lonely people who bumped into each other and fell in love. Jessica clasped the soft pink towel to her chest and thought, wasn’t that what had happened to her, just today?
Tom was her knight in shining armour who’d stepped in when Greg had grabbed her arm. How brave was that? She peered down at the small bruises forming there, guessing Tom wouldn’t be happy at the sight of them although the pretty blue blouse she’d chosen to wear would hide them. She pulled on her fleecy pink dressing gown before pushing past her irate brother in the narrow hallway.
“What are you looking so happy about?” William sneered.
The pretty blue blouse joined her new dark blue jeans as Jessica twisted in front of the mirror, trying to assess how she looked and caught sight of the single red rose st
anding proudly in the vase on her dressing table.
“You looked gorgeous.” Jessica’s mum stood in the doorway, a broad smile curling her lips. “Are you going somewhere special with Greg?”
“Just to the Black Horse for a bite to eat.” Jessie grinned, her smile matching her mother’s. “And it’s not with Greg. Tom asked me out.”
“Tom?” Helen’s smile drooped a little. She’d never heard of a Tom and her thoughts danced through all the young men in town she knew. No, definitely no Tom there. “Do I know this Tom?”
“Not yet. I only met him today but he seems really nice.”
“Where did you meet him?” Helen’s hand dropped to her hips, sliding into the eternal disapproving motherly pose.
“At work, Mum. He came into the Buns for a coffee. He’s really, really nice and we’re only popping out for a meal. I’ll bring him back afterwards if you want.” Jessica sighed.
“I’m sure your father and I will be delighted to meet him.” Helen nodded, aware she and Jessica’s father were a little over-protective but she was their only daughter and William could take care of himself.
Chapter Eight
“You look gorgeous.” Tom stood and his eyes lit up with the sight of the beautiful young woman stepping gracefully toward him. He leaned forward, his hands touching hers and his lips tracing a soft kiss on her cheek. “I ordered you a drink. I hope white wine is okay.”
“Lovely.” Jessica returned Tom’s smile. She didn’t often drink but when she did it was always a sweet white wine. She sat down on the chair Tom had pulled out for her and grinned happily to herself as he eased it back in for her.
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