by Daisy James
‘I quit.’
‘You quit?’
‘Yep. Don’t get me wrong, I still love what I do, but for the last few months I’ve been working flat-out on a new summer fragrance and suddenly it hit me that slaving away in a lab for twelve hours a day in order to wow our crazy CEO with the next big thing in the perfume industry wasn’t what I’d signed up for. Somehow, I’d lost sight of why I’d wanted to train as a perfumer in the first place. I suppose I should start looking around for something else otherwise I might end up working in the office at Andrews Autos!’
Gabbie met Max’s eyes and they both burst out laughing. The mood lightened and she wanted to turn the tables, wanted to find out more about the man she had opened her heart to within days of meeting him.
‘So, what about you, Max? Did you grow up in Devon, too?’
This time she was careful to watch his expression, wondering if the sadness she had witnessed earlier would reappear. She was curious to know what lurked beneath those dark, brooding, mahogany eyes framed with long, espresso-coloured lashes. He gave the impression of being totally in control of his emotions, but she knew there was pain lurking just beneath the surface.
‘I moved around a lot when I was younger: Devon, Cornwall, Somerset. I think the longest I stayed in one place was seven months. Every move meant a change of school, which inevitably had an impact on my education, and anyway, I hated school, hated to be cooped up in a classroom and I thought all lessons were boring. I’ll always be grateful to Uncle Martin and Aunt Maggie for taking me in.’
‘Uncle Martin who left you the E-Type?’
‘Yes. I call him Uncle Martin, but he and Maggie were actually my foster carers until they adopted me when I was ten and my life finally settled down into a routine. I still hated school, though, and homework was an absolute no-no. So, to stop me from sinking into boredom and trouble, my uncle persuaded me to spend my time tinkering with old engines until I understood every part of the mechanical puzzle. He loved MGs but my favourite was always the E-Type Jag and I reckon that’s why he went out and bought the one I inherited. I owe him a great deal, and I want to honour his memory by ensuring his generous gift to me is given a new lease of life.’
Gabbie’s heart ached when she heard the crack in Max’s voice as emotion threatened to overwhelm him. There were so many questions she wanted to ask him, like how he had ended up in foster care, where his parents were now, had he tried to contact them, what had happened when he did? However, before she was able to assemble her thoughts, Max had leapt up from the bench and reached for her hand.
‘Hey, come on. Let’s go for a swim!’
‘No way!’ Gabbie yanked her hand away in horror at what he was suggesting.
‘Trust me. It’ll make you feel better – wash away all your woes. Always works for me! Come on!’
‘I can’t. I don’t have a swimsuit!’
‘Don’t need one.’
Gabbie opened her mouth to continue to object, but Max had already stripped off his T-shirt and jeans and launched himself into the lake, breaking the smooth surface into smithereens of golden light.
‘Max!’
‘Whoop! Come on in, the water’s great!’
She laughed.
‘Wimp!’
‘No, I’m not!’
She pushed herself to standing and watched him power through the water before returning to where she loitered on the shore, her heart pounding against her ribcage in surprise at his impromptu dip.
‘Come on. You’ll love it once you’re in!’
‘Oh, what the hell!’
She kicked off her sandals, slung her cardigan on the ground and dove straight into the lake before she could question her sanity. It was cold, but not freezing as she had expected, and she enjoyed the feel of the water caressing her skin.
‘Well?’
‘It’s amazing!’ she giggled, exhilaration coursing through her veins as Max swam towards her, splashing droplets onto her face while treading water in front of her.
Gabbie met his eyes, smiling, but he simply stared back at her and suddenly something shifted between them, as though they had reached a mutual understanding, that their shared confidences had brought them closer, and from now on their relationship would be different; no longer casual acquaintances brought together because her father owned the garage where he worked, but friends, and maybe something more.
‘Gabbie?’
‘Mmm?’
She felt as though the lake had cast a spell over them, where all the trauma in the world had been temporarily suspended and for once she could allow herself to live purely in the moment. She saw Max’s eyes flick down to her mouth, then back up to meet her gaze. Was he going to kiss her? Did she want him to kiss her? She found herself wondering what it would feel like to have his lips brush against hers, to have his muscular arms encircle her, to feel his torso press hard against hers…
‘Yargh! What was that?’
Gabbie leapt backwards, flapping her hands on the surface of the lake in panic.
‘Something… something just brushed against my leg!’
‘Do you think it could have been a fish?’ chuckled Max, his face alive with mischief. ‘Or maybe it was a crocodile!’
Gabbie scooped up a handful of water and slung it at him.
‘Hey!’
Max retaliated and they ended their swim with a water fight before stumbling, giggling, back to the car, where they dried themselves with a couple of beach towels Max produced from the boot.
As she settled into her seat for the short journey home, Gabbie wondered why Max had hesitated before the fish had so rudely interrupted what could have turned into a romantic sojourn in the lake. Or could she have imagined the way his eyes held hers, the way his lips lingered millimetres from her own, and the sizzle of electricity that spun through the air between them?
She didn’t think so.
What had surprised her was the strength of the attraction she had felt. She couldn’t deny that she had wanted to kiss him! The shock of that discovery ricocheted around her body and her mind reeled with confusion and panic. What was going on? The last thing on her itinerary was a relationship! She couldn’t risk growing close to anyone because she wasn’t ready to deal with the inevitable consequences.
Chapter Eight
‘How’s your father, Gabriella? I heard about his little wobble yesterday.’
‘He’s doing fine, thanks, Mrs Thompson,’ said Gabbie, trying not to roll her eyes at the speed of the gossip-vine that wove through the village, even after what her father had insisted at breakfast that morning was a non-event. Then she chastised herself – people cared about each other in Oakley and it was one of the things she had missed most in Grasse. ‘And you’ll be pleased to hear that he’s agreed to cut down on the takeaway pizzas and chocolate desserts and to try to get a little more exercise.’
‘Well, I’m seventy-nine next week and a regular supply of Victoria sponge never did me any harm. I’ll drop one round for you next time I’m passing, shall I?’
Gabbie smiled at one of Andrews Autos’ longest-standing customers. Despite the fact that it was a relatively warm morning for the middle of September, Mary Thompson was dressed as though she was expecting snow. However, her orange beret was worn at a jaunty angle and the scarf at her neck had been secured in a trendy knot. Gabbie detected a slight dither in her fingers and a nervous look in her eye and knew the old lady was worried about how much the repair bill was going to be.
‘Okay, Mrs Thompson, that’s your MOT sorted for another year,’ declared Max, handing over the keys to an ancient Mini Cooper. ‘Passed with flying colours, I’m pleased to say. Sorry I had to keep her overnight this time, but I’ve changed the oil and filled up the screen wash to make up for the inconvenience. You should be ready to face whatever the Devonshire winter is going to throw at us this year.’
‘Thank you, Max, dear.’ Mrs Thompson glanced down at the invoice in her hand, her eyes widening a litt
le before she looked back at Max. ‘Are you sure this is right? There’s no mention of the charge for the oil?’
‘It’s perfectly correct. Now take care when driving off the forecourt, the handbrake may be a little bit stiffer than you’re used to.’
Max smiled as he helped Mrs Thompson into the driver’s seat and patted the roof with his palm to signal the all-clear. Gabbie watched the dark-blue Mini trundle around the village green and disappear behind the church before raising her eyebrows at Max.
‘What?’
‘If the car passed with flying colours why did you have to keep it overnight?’
‘Ah, you’ve rumbled me. But before you say anything, the cost of the new exhaust, and the oil and screen wash, all came out of my own pocket, not the business’s bank account.’
‘Oh, I wasn’t suggesting… But Max, I know how much my dad pays you and you can’t afford to subsidise all our elderly customers’ car repairs!’
‘Not everyone’s. Mary Thompson is Martin’s mum’s best friend. The pair of them took their village school’s reception class by storm over seventy years ago and they’ve continued to conquer the world together ever since. Mary lost her husband a few years back, and only has her pension, which doesn’t stretch very far. If she loses her car, she loses her independence because she’ll be stranded in a village with no bus service and no chemist, supermarket or bank. How would she manage? Can’t expect people like her to start using internet banking at their age – it’s ridiculous. So, it’s the least I can do.’
To hide his emotions from Gabbie, Max turned his back to inspect the next appointment in the diary, and her heart ballooned at his kindness. She hadn’t had a chance to talk to him about what had happened at the lake the previous day, an event she had dreamed about with varying outcomes ranging from the mundane to the erotic.
‘Hello? Is it okay to come in?’
‘Hi, Andrea. Yes, come on in. Your Fiat’s ready, I just need to sort out the invoice. Have you met Gabbie Andrews, Jeff’s daughter?’
‘Hi, Gabbie.’
‘Hi, great to meet you.’
Gabbie smiled at the woman who owned the cute Fiat 500 that had needed a new clutch despite only being three years old. She watched as Andrea wearily tossed the sides of her auburn bob behind her ears before lifting a toddler onto her hip, exhaustion playing around her eyes, her apricot lipstick a little skewwhiff, having clearly been applied in a hurry.
‘Mum?’
A young boy, maybe around seven or eight, tugged at his mother’s handbag, pulling it from her shoulder and causing a packet of wet wipes and an umbrella to tumble to the floor. A smaller girl stood a little further away, watching intently.
‘Jacob,’ sighed his mother, crouching down to retrieve her belongings and shove them back into her overloaded bag, giving Gabbie a bird’s-eye view of the grey roots peeking through the auburn. ‘Hold your sister’s hand, will you?’
‘Oh, hello there, Andrea. How’s the brood?’ asked Jeff, appearing on the garage forecourt in a pair of smart black trousers and the lilac cashmere jumper Gabbie had bought him for his last birthday, a cheery smile splitting his cheeks.
‘Hello, Mr Andrews. They’re doing okay. Maisie started school last week, and this little one is at nursery three mornings now. Jacob is in Year Two already, aren’t you, poppet?’
‘Mum, I don’t like it when you call me that. It’s a girl’s name.’
Jeff laughed and bent down to whisper to Jacob.
‘Did you know that every Year Two pupil who helps their mum collect her car from Andrews Autos gets a special prize?’
Jacob’s pale-blue eyes widened with interest and Andrea giggled. ‘That’s one way to get his attention!’
Jeff reached into one of the cupboards at the back of the garage, grabbed a jar filled with multicoloured lollipops and offered one to each of the children to accompanying squeals of glee.
‘Thanks, Mr Andrews,’ cried Jacob, peeling off the wrapper and rushing outside to deposit it in the bin next to a tub of scarlet geraniums.
‘You’re welcome, Jacob,’ Jeff called after him.
Gabbie saw the sparkle of pleasure in her father’s eyes and a surge of affection rushed at her as she realised for the hundredth time how fortunate she was to have such a wonderful man in her life.
‘Here’s your invoice, Andrea,’ said Max, holding out the paperwork. ‘Perhaps you should go a little more gently on the clutch from now on?’
‘I will. Thanks, Max.’
As Andrea scrabbled in her bag for her credit card, all hell broke loose.
‘Aargh! Mummy! Mummy! A bee just stung my hand! Mummy!’
Jacob came rushing back into the garage holding his injured hand out in front of him, tears streaming down his cheeks.
‘Mummy! It hurts! It hurts!’ And he began stamping his feet, his eyes wild with panic, as if a swarm of bees was about to chase him into the garage and launch a furious attack.
‘Calm down, Jake. Let me take a look.’
Gabbie took the toddler from Andrea’s arms and held Maisie’s hand while Andrea inspected her son’s hand.
‘There’s no sting in there, but it is swollen. Looks like it was probably just a wasp sting, darling.’
‘Yes, a wasp. It flew onto my hand to eat my lollipop. I pushed it away and it stung me! Mummy, it hurts! It really hurts!’
Andrea opened her bag, took out her wet wipes and cleaned Jacob’s hand of the sugary solution.
‘There, is that better?’
‘No, Mummy. It still stings!’
Jacob was now crying so hard that he was staring to hiccup. Andrea dragged him into her chest, smoothing her hand over his blond curls, muttering words of comfort in an effort to pacify him.
Jeff crouched down next to them, his face only a couple of inches from Jacob’s.
‘Hey, Jacob, how about if Gabbie here conjures up a bottle of her magic potion from her secret store cupboard in the garden for your hand?’
‘Magic potion?’ whispered Jacob, his distress instantly evaporating at the use of the word ‘magic’.
‘Yes. One tiny drop and that hand of yours will be right as rain. How does that sound?’
‘Wow. Does that mean you’re a real wizard?’
Jeff laughed. ‘Not me, my daughter!’
Gabbie’s smile of sympathy for Jacob’s predicament had frozen on her lips when she realised what her father was suggesting. She shot a stern glance in his direction and shook her head, her lips tightening as she tried to relay a silent message that she had no intention of going there. Her emotions began to pirouette into a helix of anxiety until a blast of full-blown panic gripped her.
‘Gabbie?’
Heat flooded her cheeks as she saw that every eye on the garage forecourt was resting expectantly on her, waiting for her to produce the magic potion to heal Jacob’s wound and ease his distress. What was she going to do? How could she refuse to come to the rescue of a little boy in pain? Equally, however, how was she going to undertake the task her father had set for her – opening up the summerhouse for the first time since her mother had passed away?
‘I…’
A kaleidoscope of excuses swirled around her head; that she had lost the key, that she had forgotten which oil was the most effective, that she had a pressing engagement at the dreaded dentist. But she knew she couldn’t do any of those things when she saw the look of wonder on Jacob’s face at the thought that he was about to come face to face with his personal version of Harry Potter, or, more precisely, Hermione Granger.
‘Here’s the key. Max and I will entertain Maisie and Nora while you take Andrea and Jacob out to the cabin.’
Jeff’s silver eyes softened as he dropped the keyring sporting an enamelled rose, her mother’s favourite flower, into Gabbie’s palm. He closed her fingers around the key, giving her an encouraging nod before leading the two little girls to a box of plastic toys Andrews Autos kept for occasions such as this. Max’s forehead creased
in confusion at the drama unfolding before him, aware of the crackle of electricity running between Gabbie and her father.
With the blood whooshing through her ears, Gabbie swallowed down on her nerves and forced a bright smile onto her face.
‘Okay, Jacob. Follow me.’
Her voice sounded alien to her. A wishy-washy feeling of lightheadedness descended, but there was nothing she could do about it because her father had set in motion a chain of events she now had to see through to the end, however upsetting that might be. All she could do was get it over with as quickly and painlessly as possible – highly unlikely!
Without looking at Max, whose dark eyes she could feel scorching her back, Gabbie led the way through the kitchen and out of the back door into the garden. When she caught her first glimpse of the summerhouse, a curl of nausea joined the maelstrom of dread collecting in the back of her throat and threatening to spill at the first opportunity. Her hands had started to shake, so she clenched them into tight fists, but there was nothing she could do about the beads of perspiration collecting at her temples.
You can do it, you can do it, you can do it, she chanted to herself as the little wooden sanctuary came into full view at the far end of the garden.
‘Thank you for doing this for Jacob, Gabbie. It’s very kind of you,’ Andrea began.
Gabbie cast a sideways glance at the tired mum and chastised herself for her reluctance to help.
‘It’s no problem. Here we are, Jacob. This is my secret hideaway where I create all my magic potions and lotions.’
‘Wow!’ murmured Jacob, his eyes as wide as flying saucers as he stood on the veranda of the cream-painted summerhouse Jeff had built to house Gabbie’s essential oils and assorted paraphernalia when her collection had become too extensive to fit in her bedroom.
The only way she could get through the next few minutes was by not thinking about what the place meant to her. If she could just focus on opening the door, dredging up the specifics of the aromatherapy module she had done as part of her degree course – which her peers thought she was crazy for choosing – then selecting the correct treatment for a wasp’s sting, administering it swiftly, and quickly locking the door again, she might just about manage to get through the ordeal without too much agony.