by Alyssia Leon
Avoiding his steady gaze, she got up from the table and went to help Nan clear up.
Minutes later, Jake and Lilayni had left and Molly was drying dishes as Nan washed up.
Very little had been said, with Jake thanking Nan for lunch and hustling Lilayni out the door with barely a glance in Molly’s direction.
Now, the old kitchen, a half-heartedly modernized remnant of a bygone era, was gloomier, as if all the life in it had followed him. She worked in silence, already missing him and hating herself for it.
Nan cast her a searching glance. “I wanted to apologize… What I said earlier. It didn’t come out right. You must know you’re more than good enough, Molly.”
“You don’t have to worry about me, Nan.”
“How can I not?” Weariness filled Nan’s eyes. “I worry about you all the time. And after what Brian did… I don’t want you fading away, child. You put so mush hope in him. It was as if after your grandad died, you turned to Brian for security.”
“Maybe, but I’m over Brian now. I’m getting on with my life.” The words rang with truth and she blinked in surprise. There was nothing there, no hate, no resentment, no love, just indifference. Had she ever truly loved Brian? Or had it been like he said, just her need to build the perfect relationship?
But Nan clasped her hands together in anguish. “It’s just… you’ve never known anything else. Brian was the most exciting thing to happen to you while you’re stuck here in this little old village with little old me.”
“How do you know leaving Appleby would have made me happy?” Molly placed a soothing hand on her nan’s shoulder. “Maybe I’m happiest being here with you.”
“No.” Nan shook her head in earnest. “How can you be? I was selfish in keeping you close after Ricky died. I should have encouraged you to do more with yourself. You could have been the first of us to go to university and be—”
“Oh, Nan, we never had the means.”
“We could have. If only I’d tried harder.”
Sadness welled in Nan’s eyes and Molly hugged her. “You’ve done so much for me, Nan. You couldn’t have done more. Maybe my life here isn’t worldly, but I wouldn’t be anywhere else. I’m happy being just me.”
Nan gave a weak smile. “Truthfully, I’d never want you to change. You’ll always be my little Molly.” Reaching up, she pressed a kiss to Molly’s forehead, then stepped back with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “But I still think Jake being here is good for you.”
“Nan!” Molly stared at her, exasperated.
“I’m right, aren’t I? You only got over Brian because of Jake.”
Molly frowned. Jake had made her see Brian in a different light. Perhaps she should be grateful to him for that, but he was a heartless player too, only after the same thing Brian had been.
Nan turned back to her washing up. “But it looks like I’ve said far more than I should have, so I’ll not interfere again unless asked.”
“Nan, there’s nothing like what you’re thinking between Jake and me. Anyway, didn’t you see? He has a girlfriend. Even if I did feel anything for him, it wouldn’t lead anywhere. We’re like… apples and oranges.”
“Apples and oranges!” Nan snorted. “And, yes, I saw everything. My eyes work fine, thank you. Now, despite what you told Jake, there’s no need for you to stay hidden inside on such a fine day, so why don’t you let me finish up in here and you go and see what Sophie is doing, for real.”
Molly grinned. Of course Nan had caught on to her bluff. Now all she had to do was somehow stay out of Jake’s orbit for the rest of the weekend. Shouldn’t be too hard.
9
The first day of September was a cloudy Monday, and Molly sat in her office, checking emails and occasionally glancing at the clock on the wall.
Martin was late.
They started work at nine in the morning but he always arrived ten minutes earlier to open up the office and set out what he needed done for the day. But today, even at half past nine, he was nowhere to be seen.
She reached for the phone. She could call his mobile, find out where he was, but then she pulled her hand back. It would look like she was checking up on him.
Belinda’s words stung fresh in her mind, and Molly didn’t want to give the impression she was chasing Martin, but with her luck, what if Belinda answered Martin’s mobile phone?
No, she’d give Martin another half hour.
Getting up from her desk and straightening her suit jacket, she headed to the shelf to sort out the client files for the week.
She’d taken care to dress extra professionally today. Her pastel-pink trouser suit flowed with her curves but didn’t call attention to them, and with no make-up save a touch of mascara and rose lipgloss, and her wild hair pinned back in a neat French plait, she wasn’t the obvious candidate to be having a raging affair with her boss.
Three new client files needed checking and entering into the computer records. She had enough to keep her busy until Martin decided to show. She took the files back to her desk.
At least here in the office, she could relax. She didn’t have to concoct new ways of avoiding Jake. A whole weekend spent dodging him had been exhausting enough.
The front door slammed, and startled, she dropped the files on to her desk.
She rushed out to find Martin standing in the hallway with his pale ginger hair on end, and in a suit that looked like he’d lived in it all weekend.
Molly gaped. “Martin!”
Martin scraped an agitated hand through his upright hair and fixed bleary eyes on her. “Bring me a cuppa, will you Molly? Make it strong.” Then clutching what looked like an overnight bag, he bounded up the stairs to his office two at a time.
Ten minutes later, she knocked on Martin’s office door, balancing a plate containing a cup of steaming Earl Grey surrounded by rich tea biscuits, and a frown of concern on her face.
She’d heard the shower in the upstairs bathroom run briefly as she’d made his tea, and she’d taken her time so as not to rush him. He’d looked like he’d been on the road for several days, and going with her instincts, she’d heaped on the tea biscuits on the off chance he hadn’t eaten either.
He usually came to the office from his home. What had happened today?
“Come in.” Martin’s voice boomed from inside the room.
Pushing the door open, she stepped inside.
“Thank you, Molly.” With a flash of appreciation in his grey eyes, Martin stood and stepped out from behind his desk to take the tea and biscuits from her.
He’d changed into a clean shirt and trousers, but no tie, and his suit jacket lay over the back of his chair. The shower had brought a little colour back to the pallid skin showing above his beard, and his damp hair was combed flat to his head. It wouldn’t stay down long, though. Pale strands were already springing up in disarray as they dried.
He walked back to his desk, taking a gulp of the tea and then chomping down on a biscuit like it was a life-saving drug. His eyes were still bloodshot, but at least the zombie look he’d worn when he’d crashed into the office was gone.
Layers of paper were scattered over his desk.
Whatever was wrong with him, it looked like a business matter. A thread of apprehension ran through her. “Martin, is everything all right?”
He stopped mid-chew and turned wide-eyes on her. “Erm… Did Belinda call?”
“No.” Belinda wasn’t likely to rush to call her about anything, not after last Friday. Molly eyed him with curiosity. “Did you forget something at home this morning? Is that why you’re expecting a call from her?”
“I didn’t go home.”
She stared. Her instincts were spot on, and her uneasiness skyrocketed.
With a sigh, Martin placed his cup on the desk, and sank into his large leather chair, indicating for her to sit down opposite. “I just got back from London.”
“But you’re usually back on a Sunday evening.”
“Tricky clien
t.” For a moment, he looked like he would say more, but then he glanced away and picking up his teacup, took another sip.
She leaned forward. “Is it something I can help with in any way?”
He looked back at her. “Doubt it.”
“Then, does Belinda know you’re back?”
He shook his head, his expression glum, his attention fixed on the teacup in his hand.
Jeez! She sat back. Coaxing words from a dead fish was easier than this.
Her gaze fell on the papers on his desk. They were a jumble of receipts, orchard sale notes, maintenance forms and more, all from Barrowdene.
Realization dawned.
Martin had been dead set against Francine selling Barrowdene, and hadn’t Nan said the sale still needed to complete? Francine must have told her that before she left.
“This is something to do with Barrowdene, isn’t it?” She fixed Martin with an insistent stare. “Martin, what’s going on?”
He looked at her, guilt boring deep in his eyes. “Molly… I’ve made a huge mistake.”
“Mistake?” Cold dread clutched her insides.
“I thought I could stop Francine selling…”
“But why?”
“She can’t…” He shook his head. “I’d lose everything.”
He went back to staring into his now empty cup, a deep frown on his face as he wrestled with his thoughts.
She opened her mouth and closed it, lost for words.
How could this have happened? There had beed nothing out of place with Barrowdene’s accounts in the two years she’d organized and filed them. Nothing she could remember anyway.
Martin sat there, silent, his big shoulders bowed, radiating a sense of loss.
Martin dipping into Barrowdene’s coffers? But he was richer than Francine. He had no need to cheat her like that, and besides, that wasn’t the Martin she knew so well.
Icy panic gripped her.
Oh god! Jake!
If he found out, he’d destroy Martin.
She’d have to comb through all the accounts. Maybe it wasn’t as bad as it sounded. Maybe Martin’s fear had gotten the better of him. Maybe whatever was missing, he could return it without Jake ever finding out.
Martin’s voice cut into her feverish thoughts. “I tried to see Francine, down in London.”
“You did?”
“She wouldn’t listen. Wouldn’t see me. I waited days and she didn’t come.”
“Oh, Martin, does she have any idea why—”
“Why I’m desperate to see her?” He gave a humourless bark of laughter. “I’m the devil incarnate right now as far as she’s concerned. I’m the one sabotaging her neat plans to sell the place and move on.”
“Look, I’m sure there’s a way out of this.”
The shrill ring of his mobile phone startled them both.
With a frown, he dug his mobile out of his trouser pocket and glanced at the caller ID on screen. His mouth thinned, and he put the phone to his ear. “Yes.” His tone was abrupt. Silence filled the room as he listened to what was being said on the other end, and his frown deepened. “I’m here at the office.”
Belinda. It had to be.
Just then, Martin shot her a quick glance, confusion in his eyes. “She is.”
Molly stood up. It didn’t take much to guess what that insufferable woman must be saying.
Picking up Martin’s empty cup, she indicated that she was going downstairs. He gave her a brisk nod and swivelled his chair around to face the window behind him.
She left, quietly closing the office door behind her.
Barrowdene’s accounts. She needed to dig through them, but her stomach churned with dread at the thought of what she might find.
* * *
The sun had chased away all the grey clouds by the time she locked up the offices at five in the evening.
She’d spent the day at her desk, poring over page after digital page of accounts, and found precisely nothing. Martin had hurried away soon after Belinda’s call, saying only that he would be back later. He hadn’t returned.
With a grimace, she tugged the key out of the lock.
What if this went deeper than the simple accounts she had access to? Martin needed to tell her everything. She’d force it out of him tomorrow.
“Molly.”
She froze in dismay at the familiar voice, then turned around slowly.
Brian strode up to the foot of the steps. “I need to speak with you.”
Molly glanced at the post office next door, half-expecting to see Clara Ainsley’s face peeking out the window, but all seemed mercifully quiet.
She looked down at him, eyebrows raised in question. “Really? I can’t think about what.”
“About what I said.”
“Don’t tell me. You’ve come to apologize.”
His lips quirked up. “Something like that.”
Anger flared in her. This was still just a game to him. If he planned on continuing with the disgusting offer he’d thrown at her by the church, she’d set him straight.
She bounded down the few steps and stood scowling up at him, almost toe-to-toe. “I already told you; there’s nothing for us to talk about, so just leave me alone.”
But he gazed down at her, amusement lingering on his face. “It’s not that simple, Molly. You see, I still care about you, and I think you’re getting yourself into a lot of trouble right now.”
What? But if she asked him to explain, she’d only be playing into his hands. “You don’t have to care, Brian. I can look after myself.”
He laughed, shaking his head. “Oh, Molly. Molly. Still so gullible. At least, when we were together, I looked after you. Don’t expect Jake Hennessy to bother.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I saw the way you were looking at him at the pub, like you wanted to fuck him right there. I thought, of all women, you were better than that. So tell me, has he had you yet?”
She gasped. “That’s… it’s none of your business!”
How dare he? Had he not seen how Abby behaved? Mortified heat shot to her cheeks. Was that how everyone saw her when she was with Jake?
“Don’t get too comfortable with him, Molly.” Brian’s eyes glittered with leashed fury. “He’ll use you and spit you out like every other woman he’s gone through.” His lips drew back in a sneer. “His last girlfriend killed herself after he finished with her.”
It was like a body blow, and all the blood drained from her face.
Jake’s girlfriend? The one before Lilayni? She’d resisted the temptation to dig into Jake’s past. She was no stalker desperate for some, any involvement in his life when he had no real interest in her. But never in a million years had she expected this.
Brian was watching her like a hawk.
He mustn’t see how much his words affected her. She mentally steadied herself. “Like I said, it’s none of your business, Brian.”
“I’ll make it my bloody business! I’ll not let some rich bastard take what’s mine.”
“But I’m not yours,” she mumbled, frowning in confusion. Who was this really about? Her or Abby?
The sudden fierce roar of an engine had her whipping her head around and staring as Jake eased his dark motorbike to a stop by the roadside. He balanced with one boot-clad foot on the ground, and taking off his helmet, fixed the two of them with a steely glare.
She took a small nervous step away from Brian.
Reaching around, Jake unhooked a second black helmet from the far side of the bike and jerked his head at her. “Come on.”
What? No way!
She scowled at him. She may not belong to Brian, but she didn’t belong to Jake either and he had no right to be ordering her about. She glanced at Brian, and his face was the same chagrined red she’d seen at the pub. Really, her only other alternative was to walk home and hope Brian wouldn’t follow. Not much of a hope at all really.
Gritting her teeth, she stomped over to where Jake wa
ited, and with a glare, snatched the helmet from him and put it on.
Through the tinted helmet visor, she glanced back at where Brian stood fuming.
Well, if Brian was going to label her Jake’s bit-on-the-side, then she was going to act that part to perfection. And as for Jake, she’d tell him exactly where he could go and throw himself as soon as they were safely back at Barrowdene.
Jake leaned back and pulled out a tan leather jacket and matching gloves from one of the bike’s compartments and held them out to her.
Glad he couldn’t see her expression behind the dark visor, she scowled at them. They were some of the most beautiful clothes she’d ever seen: light marbled tan, delicate stitching, soft lining, and they were a woman’s.
Lilayni’s or a previous girlfriend’s?
But she couldn’t back out now.
Shucking off her suit jacket, she slipped the leather one over her cream silk camisole and zipped it up. The butter-soft leather fit like a second skin, as did the gloves.
Jake nodded in approval, his lips twitching into a smile. “That’ll keep you safe and warm. Get on.”
She really didn’t need anything to keep her warm with him around. She eyed the motorbike’s black seat, which came up well past her hips. Hmm, getting on the bike, looking like she did it everyday would be no easy matter.
Jake stowed her suit jacket and putting his helmet back on, waited, a dark hunter, one hand on the bike’s handlebar, impatience in every line of his leather clad body.
Suddenly she noticed what looked like a step, low on the bike, and on a breath of relief, she hitched up a trouser leg and swung herself up on to the firm seat behind him.
“Ready?” His clear voice sounded in her ear through the helmet.
Buzzing with an equal mixture of dread and anticipation, she nodded, then remembered he couldn’t see her face. “Yes.”
“Put your arms around me.”
“Wh–what?”
“Hold on to me.”
The engine throbbed to life beneath her and she grabbed at his jacket with both hands. The bike lurched sideways as he turned them around, and she threw her arms around his waist, wrapping them tight, a move that had her pressed up flat against his solid back, trembling.