‘So what?’
‘It’s pissing me off.’
Jasmine planted her hands on her hips. ‘You’re jealous?’
‘Of course I’m not! It’s not just that anyway. But you’re always busy doing something else. Me and the kids come a poor second place behind every bugger else in the village, maybe even third if you count your precious workshop.’
‘You never had a problem with the workshop before. We have to earn a living, you know.’
‘But you seem to think that your work is more important than mine. I don’t have a purpose built workshop—’
‘You have a studio,’ Jasmine cut in.
‘I have a studio that is in the house. I can’t get away from the family when I work like you can.’
‘What… So you’re saying you want the workshop? How am I supposed to use blow torches in the house?’
‘That’s not what I’m saying. You’re not bloody listening, as usual.’
‘You’re saying that you don’t like being around the family?’
‘When I’m trying to work, no!’
‘Well, I have news for you, buster. You are responsible for the fact that you have three children and they live here whether you like it or not.’
‘And sometimes I wish I didn’t know that quite so well!’
Jasmine ground her teeth and stared at him. ‘You want us to leave?’ she said in a low voice. ‘Is that what you want?’
‘I don’t honestly know.’ Rich ran a hand through his hair and stared at his feet. ‘I really don’t, Jas. But sometimes, I feel like a spare part here. Your business is more successful than mine, you’re a better parent, you actually belong to this village in a way I will never do…’
‘I can’t believe you’re saying any of this!’ Jasmine gasped, fighting back tears. They weren’t tears of sadness, but of frustration. ‘Do you have any idea how selfish this sounds?’
‘Maybe it does. But I feel it.’
‘And now I know. So I’ll just make up a bed on the sofa right after I’ve tucked the kids in. Or perhaps you’d like to sleep in the workshop since you like it so much. Can I also remind you that I tuck the kids in every night… not because I’m better at it but because you just can’t be arsed. You have to work at being a parent, Rich, and sometimes you have to work at being a decent human being.’ Jasmine turned and walked towards the stairs. Rich called after her, but she kept on walking.
This argument had been brewing for some time, and Jasmine had watched it blow in from the horizon, not knowing how to stop it. What she hadn’t seen was how it would end. She had always been so certain of Rich’s love for her that she never even questioned the way she lived her life with him. Perhaps she did ask too much of him, perhaps she did take him for granted. But then, why should she give up on her dreams, on the things she wanted out of life just because she was a wife and mother? Would he give up his music? She doubted it.
She needed to talk, someone to help her work through this. And as she tucked her wide-eyed triplets into bed and reassured them that everything was fine and that Mummy and Daddy shouting didn’t mean divorce, she knew she wasn’t even certain of that much herself any more. A life without Rich was unthinkable, but for the first time in their marriage the possibility had been raised.
She decided to go and see Dylan. He wasn’t much use when it came to advice, but in the absence of anyone else, at least he would be a friendly face with a fridge full of beer. Maybe it would be good to get another man’s perspective on the situation too.
But when she arrived back downstairs, Rich was nowhere to be seen. She found a note on the mantelpiece that informed her he had gone to the Dog and Hare. A little selfish and very clichéd, she thought with a newly growing rage. But it looked as though her evening was going to have to be here, in the silent house.
Picking up her phone, she dialled Dylan, but there was no reply. She couldn’t think what message to leave, so she simply cut the call. Her finger hovered over Millie’s number. But her friend had seemed so reluctant to have her around that morning. Whether it had been down to Rowena being there or not she had no clue but it didn’t seem such a good idea right now to call her either. With a sigh, Jasmine went to fetch the spare bedding, which she dumped on the sofa for Rich before heading up for a sleepless night alone in their bed.
Jasmine prodded a snoring Rich awake the next morning to discover that his mood had been made no better by the hangover he had acquired at the pub. Following this a terse exchange had resulted in a reluctant and irritated agreement that Rich would get the kids up and take them to school, while Jasmine went to Dylan’s (under the pretence that she needed to reclaim some borrowed tools). So Jasmine found herself walking to her brother’s house, her mood low and confused at best. It was early by Dylan’s standards, and he would hate her for getting him out of bed yet again, but she needed him.
The morning air was stifling, still hot, but heavy with a building storm. Jasmine raised her eyes to the clouds massing on the horizon and wished that it would just rain and get it over with. It was a little like the feeling she had about her spat with Rich right now. If he was going to swing the axe on their marriage, she wished he would just get on and do it. At least she wouldn’t be left in this terrible limbo and she could decide what to do next. Although she still couldn’t quite believe that he had even contemplated such a notion, now that he had aired it she wasn’t going to be held to ransom. She knew couples whose miserable marriages were characterised by the constant threat of divorce with neither party ever daring to take that plunge, and she had decided very early on that she and Rich were never going to be one of them.
Dylan’s cottage was silent, the curtains drawn as Jasmine trudged up the path to the front door. She hadn’t expected anything else but somehow the fact irritated her. She raised her hand to knock at the door…
Millie couldn’t remember what time she had finally drifted off, but when daylight filled her room and prodded her awake, she didn’t feel as if she had been asleep for long. Her first coherent thought was what Rowena would have in store for her today. She didn’t want to know what might or might not have happened at Dylan’s house the previous night but could think of little else. Millie didn’t want to believe that Dylan would be so weak, but how could she protest? She had relinquished any claim on him and had no right to ask Rowena to spare her any pain. It was only a fraction of the pain she herself had inflicted on Rowena, no matter how much of a mistake it had been, and she knew that Rowena wouldn’t be happy until she had crushed Millie completely.
She thought about going to see Jasmine. She could phone, of course, but the conversation she needed to have could only really be face to face. If she had already lost Dylan, then she needed to try to save his sister. It was too early yet, though – Jasmine would be getting the children ready for school and she definitely didn’t want the triplets within earshot. Because Millie had decided that it was time to come clean about her past. Rowena was going to destroy life for her in Honeybourne anyway; there was nothing left to lose.
She’d give it an hour and then go and visit Jasmine in her workshop.
After the third unanswered knock, Jasmine was about to go around to the back and try the old pebbles-at-the-window trick when the front door swung open. Standing on the step, perfectly made-up, hair poker straight and glossy, and dressed in nothing but one of Dylan’s shirts, was Rowena.
Jasmine couldn’t help the gasp that escaped her lips.
‘Good morning,’ Rowena said glibly, with that smile that reminded Jasmine of a shark. ‘Are you looking for your brother? I’m afraid he’s sleeping right now.’
‘What…’ Jasmine felt the heat rise to her face. What the hell had Dylan done now? Jasmine was quite sure she was going to kill him. At the very least she would never believe a word that came from his lying mouth again.
‘I can go and wake him if you really want me to,’ Rowena said. ‘But he’s sooo very tired that it might take dynamite.’
Jasmine opened her mouth to reply, when there was a scuffling sound and Dylan staggered to the door, clumsily shoving Rowena aside.
‘Jas—’
‘Save it, Dylan. I don’t want to hear it.’ Jasmine glared at him. She turned to leave, taking long and purposeful strides down the path.
‘Jasmine!’ Dylan repeated.
He sounded as though he was still steaming drunk and the thought made Jasmine’s blood boil. Whatever she had considered confiding in him in her hour of need, it was obvious to her now that she would get no support from that quarter. Her brother was still as immature and irresponsible as ever. It was like having a fourth child, but one that she couldn’t control no matter how much chastisement she meted out. She turned to see him pause at the front door, glance down at himself in nothing but his boxer shorts, and then seem to come to a decision. Rowena looked on in mild amusement, arms folded as she leaned nonchalantly against the doorframe.
Lumbering down the path, he called after her again. Jasmine emerged onto the road, determined to get as far away from the whole hideous situation as possible.
‘Jas…’ Dylan grabbed her arm and spun her around. ‘It’s not what you think…’
‘Shut up, Dylan. I know you better than that so spare me the barefaced and, frankly, insulting lies.’
‘I’m not…’ He looked confused and glanced back at Rowena who was still watching them with a half-bored, half-amused expression. ‘Just let me…’ He clutched at his head. ‘I don’t know…’
Jasmine shook her arm free. She looked up in time to see Millie emerge from her front door and freeze as she took in the scene.
Jasmine turned and stood, staring at Millie. Then Dylan stumbled past her towards the old bakery.
‘Millie…’
Millie took one look at him, and the colour drained from her face. Rowena began walking towards them, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. Millie turned to her.
‘What have you done?’ she gasped.
‘Oh, you know what I’ve done,’ Rowena said sweetly, ‘and you know why.’
Millie looked at Dylan again. His eyes were unfocused and his expression vague, as though he didn’t quite know where he was. She turned to Rowena once more. ‘I didn’t mean to hurt Michael, you know that! I loved him! I tried my hardest not to hurt him, but we were living a lie…’ She waved a hand at Dylan, ‘I didn’t do this to him.’
‘It hurts, doesn’t it?’
Millie flew at her with a scream. Before she knew what was happening, Jasmine had caught her by both arms and was struggling to hold her back. Dylan was sitting in the middle of the street staring dumbly at the fracas.
‘He didn’t want you,’ Millie spat. ‘It’s just sex.’
‘I think you’ll find he did. All men want me.’
‘You bitch!’
‘Millie!’ Jasmine shouted, still holding tight. ‘Stop it, please! Tell me what the hell is going on!’
‘Yes, Millicent,’ Rowena crowed, ‘why don’t you tell her what is going on? Why don’t you tell her all about my brother—’
‘No!’ Millie yelled, tears springing to her eyes.
‘And how you broke his heart into a thousand pieces…’
‘Please,’ Millie begged, her struggles against Jasmine’s grip weakening.
‘Tell Jasmine how you drove him to kill himself.’ Rowena came closer and dropped her voice. ‘And as if nothing happened, you’ve moved onto another unsuspecting victim… Will this end the same way?’
Millie glanced at Dylan who stared up at her, his eyes empty. ‘I just wanted…’
‘You killed Michael.’
‘No…’ Millie’s voice was barely a whisper now.
‘You killed him, Millicent Hopkin, as certainly as if you had put a gun to his head. You destroyed his hopes and dreams for the future, and you made him believe there was nothing left worth living for.’ Rowena addressed Jasmine, who was still standing behind Millie, a slack grip on her arm. ‘You should think yourself lucky that all Dylan got out of this little adventure is a good shag. If she had got her claws in him, your brother could have ended up as dead as mine.’
Without another word, Rowena turned on her heel and walked calmly back to Dylan’s cottage. Millie stared after her. She felt her arms released and turned to face Jasmine.
‘Jasmine, I’m so sorry!’ Millie sobbed. ‘I didn’t want any of this to happen, I didn’t mean to hurt Michael – you have to believe me!’
‘I don’t know what to think,’ Jasmine said in a dull voice.
‘Rowena’s crazy,’ Millie pleaded, ‘she’ll stop at nothing to get her revenge. She’s punishing me for what she sees as murder but I didn’t mean for Michael to die, I swear!’
‘I believe that. I don’t think you’re capable of inflicting that sort of pain deliberately. What I don’t believe is that you didn’t warn us. You let that woman into our lives and you didn’t warn us what she was capable of.’
Millie glanced at the cottage to see that Rowena was already back in her own clothes and leaving. She threw a smile at Ruth Evans, who, it appeared, had been standing on the side of the road the whole time watching events unfold. She turned back to see that Jasmine was pulling Dylan up to stand.
‘What the hell is wrong with you, Dylan?’ She stared at him but he didn’t reply. Instead, his eyes simply rolled in his head and he stared back.
‘I think it’s something Rowena has done—’ Millie began, but Jasmine cut her off.
‘You should have warned us,’ Jasmine repeated. ‘You could have stopped all this.’
‘I didn’t mean it, Millie…’ Dylan slurred as Jasmine pulled him back towards the house. ‘I love you!’ he called behind him. ‘I mean it, I really do. I don’t know why I slept with her; I don’t even fancy her…’
Millie’s tears fell faster still. Amidst all the chaos of the morning, Dylan’s sudden admission was the cruellest cut. Was that how he really felt? She realised with a jolt, as she watched Jasmine drag him stumbling back to his house, that she had fallen for him too. But he would never want anything to do with her again after hearing what she had done to Michael, and Jasmine hated her so much now that even if he did, a relationship between them would never be accepted. She had lost them both. Rowena had ruined everything, just as she had promised.
15
Jasmine left Dylan sleeping and closed the bedroom door. It was distressing to see him looking so vulnerable again after all this time. She was reminded of times when he had arrived back from school and cried himself to sleep over some bullying incident as Jasmine tried desperately to comfort him; and of the day they had learned of their parents’ deaths, when he had collapsed from grief and she had had to be the strong one, tucking him into bed and forcing herself to carry on household chores as if nothing had happened. She had always been his big sister, and she would never be able to stop now.
Sitting at the kitchen table, she stared at the wall. Maybe Rich had been right not to trust Millie after all. Rowena was obviously a certified bunny boiler, but if her accusations were true, what did that say about Millie? Not only did she have to get her head around what Dylan had done after he had more or less proclaimed his love for Millie, but she also had to confront the fact that the friend she knew as a sweet, considerate person could wreak the sort of havoc that would drive a man to suicide. What sort of woman was that? Not one who Jasmine wanted anywhere near her family. And she brought people like Rowena in her wake. Even if Millie hadn’t intended any of this, even if she had not been instrumental in her ex-boyfriend’s death, she still could have done something about the mess they found themselves in now if she had just been honest about it all.
Even knowing Dylan as she did and what kind of mischief he was capable of, something about this situation wasn’t right. His current malady was like no hangover she’d ever seen before. Her gaze swept along the evidence of the previous evening. Two wine glasses sat on the worktop, alongside an open wine bottle. Jasmine let out a
groan as she recognised the wine she had warned Dylan not to drink. She pushed herself up from the table and sniffed cautiously at the bottle. It smelt fairly normal. But as she thought about it some more, she couldn’t understand why Dylan had let Rowena in to drink with him in the first place. He wasn’t a fan, from what he had told Jasmine, and it hardly seemed likely that he would have wanted to socialise with her. Unless he had already started drinking the wine before Rowena arrived and had been pleasantly sozzled with his guard down. Or maybe he had let her in for another reason.
She sighed and put the bottle down before running the tap and squeezing some washing-up liquid into a bowl. Rich was probably locked in his studio right now and she wasn’t in the mood to talk to him, despite what had happened here and what needed to be said there. She wanted to stay with Dylan until he woke up to see if he was ok, perhaps even get some answers from him. If it was going to be a long wait, she might as well make herself useful.
Sometime around noon, Jasmine inched open the bedroom door to check on Dylan. There had been some neurotic moments through the morning, where she had convinced herself that he had somehow fallen into a coma or choked on his own vomit, and she had looked in on him more often than was really necessary. Each time he had been sleeping soundly with no signs of distress. This time, he flipped himself over as the door creaked and opened his eyes.
‘You look better,’ she said as he rubbed his eyes and sat up.
‘I feel better… I think. Although I’m not entirely sure what I feel better from.’
‘You can’t remember anything?’
‘I have a vague recollection of being out on the street in my boxers. And falling down quite a lot. It’s weird, like I remember stuff but it feels as though I was watching someone else do those things and not really participating myself.’
Jasmine went over and moved his legs so she could sit on the edge of the bed. The room smelt fusty, and she made a mental note to air it as soon as he was up and about. ‘You were pissed as a fart so I’m not surprised.’
The Little Village Bakery: A feel good romantic comedy with plenty of cake (Honeybourne Book 1) Page 17