by Fay Keenan
Just as she was about to lock up and head upstairs, her own mobile phone pinged. She’d left it beside the till for most of the evening as her dress, naturally, didn’t have any pockets and she couldn’t exactly shove it down her bra. She had toyed with the idea of strapping it, Lara Croft style, to her thigh, but dismissed this as too ridiculous. Grabbing the phone, she swiped the screen and frowned as she saw the text message notification from an unfamiliar number. Without thinking, she tapped it, and then her heart froze. The message contained no actual text at all; but what it did show, despite the low light and the fuzziness of the image, was her, still wearing the Morticia Adams wig, face turned towards a man who had his back to the camera; a man in a midnight blue jacket. Clearly it had been taken moments ago, just before Jonathan had left, and as Caroline’s hands started to shake; she was in no doubt who had taken it. Frozen to the spot, heart thumping, skin crawling, she shivered. If the note and the packet of white powder had been a warning, this photo felt like a threat. There was no doubt about it. He was watching her. Worse, he was outside in the dark. Once again, she wished she hadn’t sent Jonathan on his way so smartly. She suddenly felt more isolated than she ever had before.
Swiftly, she ran to the front door of the restaurant, locked and bolted it and then hurried upstairs to her flat. Thankfully, she’d insisted on a Yale lock on the door to her living quarters, too, to give her some sense of separation, and she slammed the door, dropping the lock instantly. As she sank back against the inside of the door, so many questions ran through her head. Was he still outside? Did he plan on coming in? Should she call the police (or, she thought fleetingly, Jonathan?). What the hell was she going to do?
29
As if the spirits were paying him back for teasing Caroline on All Hallows’ Eve, Jonathan went on to have an awful week. Starting Monday morning with a robust discussion with Matthew about the Buckthorn proposal, then spending most of the next few days wading through a bucket load of documentation about the new machinery in the cannery before realising, on Thursday, that he’d missed a meeting with the Finance team about the restaurant’s quarterly takings. And now, to cap it all, his damned father had dug his heels in and was refusing to discuss the same issue that Jonathan had broached with Matthew at the start of the week.
Jonathan had known that coming home to live wasn’t going to be easy. If he’d wanted a quiet life, he reflected ruefully, he should have stayed in Manhattan. He was, after so many years, still a city boy at heart, used to prowling the urban jungle like a tiger, closing the deals and relishing the challenges. While Matthew had devoted his life to the family firm, Jonathan had played the field, sticking his fingers into different pies, building up his own portfolio, supporting himself. And he’d been bloody good at it too. He’d always have a soft spot for life on the other side of the Atlantic, having spent a year in the US as a student and completing part of his degree in the Ivy League splendour of Cornell University. That was when he’d fallen in love with America. The irony that he’d entered into an affair with his brother’s very American first wife on his return from the States wasn’t lost on him.
In truth, despite the co-directorship of Carter’s Cider, he was still struggling to find his place in the family firm, and although his relationship with his brother had developed in leaps and bounds, due a great deal to Anna’s influence, he still didn’t know if a future in the firm, and in the village, was truly what he wanted. Playing second fiddle to a brother who effectively made all the big decisions was not the way he saw his life playing out.
The argument with Jack had put the lid on a lousy week. The older Jack got, the more set in his ways he was, and he was being particularly obstinate over Buckthorn. The business landscape was changing, and Carter’s was in a tricky position. Artisan cider makers, small outfits with unique products, survived on their novelty value, and because they knew enough to keep their overheads small and their markets exclusive. Big players like Buckthorn were the other end of the spectrum; they ate companies for breakfast. Middle to large producers like Carter’s, who had a strong foothold in the UK but were still developing their overseas markets, were at the greatest risk of being taken over by larger companies. Jonathan had the feeling, looking at the paperwork for the fiftieth time, that if they didn’t commit to the takeover, they’d be missing out on a lot of money. And, frankly, the way he was feeling now, he’d be happy to sell his share of the company and get the hell out of the village again.
Except, of course, for Caroline.
No matter what he did, his thoughts kept returning to her. She was like no-one else he’d ever met; she got under his skin and drove him bananas with her stubbornness. That direct nature that had brought them together on the night of Matthew and Anna’s wedding both attracted and frustrated him in equal measure; so much so that despite a few casual dates, he hadn’t been able to commit to a relationship with anyone else in the time she’d been in the village. Even now, almost without realising it, his steps had taken him in the direction of The Cider Kitchen after a restless evening. He was drawn to her, he couldn’t help it. But, despite the heart thumping chemistry of their encounter on Halloween night, she’d made it clear she didn’t want anything from him in that department when she threw him out of the restaurant. If only he’d ignored his phone at that moment! But answering it had been as natural a gesture as breathing. Cursing his own stupidity, he decided to look in on her anyway.
The last customers were leaving as he approached and he saw Caroline turning the sign on the door to closed. On the surface she looked happy and relaxed; her pale face was warmed by the restaurant’s lighting. She was smiling, but, from his vantage point outside he noticed that her smile seemed to disappear as soon as she’d wished the last customers goodbye, as if it was becoming an effort for her. He knew, of course, that she had an excellent professional track record as a manager and it was her personality and skill that made the restaurant such a welcoming place, but he couldn’t help thinking that something seemed a little off with her tonight. With a stab of most uncharacteristic longing, Jonathan’s pulse began to race. Perhaps it was because he’d had a crap week, perhaps it was because he sensed Caroline wasn’t at her best either, but he suddenly wanted to burst in, sweep Caroline up in his arms and take her straight to bed. Screwing his courage to the sticking place, he walked out of the shadows and up to the door. He didn’t need to tap on the glass, but Caroline certainly looked surprised to see him. Was he imagining it, or did her cheeks flush? Perhaps it was the downlighting playing tricks on him.
‘Hello, stranger,’ she said as she unlocked the door.
Jonathan smiled, relieved that she seemed to have forgiven him for Halloween night. He hoped he looked more cheerful than he felt. ‘Hi,’ he said. ‘Have you got time for a quick coffee?’
Caroline, disarmed by Jonathan’s most uncharacteristic reticence, closed the door behind him as he stepped into the restaurant. ‘Who are you, and what have you done with Jonathan Carter?’ She looked quizzically at him. ‘Usually you just breeze in here whether I give you permission or not.’
Jonathan shook his head. ‘I suppose I do rather over stay my welcome on occasion. Would you rather I left?’
In truth, Caroline was tired, mostly because she’d been losing a lot of sleep over the sinister communication from the man in her past, and she could have done with a relatively early night, but something in Jonathan’s demeanour made her bite back a stronger retort. Besides, his unaccustomed hesitancy was seriously attractive and it would be nice to have some company for a little longer tonight. She smiled. ‘No, stay and have a drink.’
In step together, they walked over to the bar. Caroline had recently shifted one of the sofas that had been in the ‘coffee shop corner’ of the restaurant just off to the side of the bar, and, sneaking a look in Jonathan’s direction, she went straight to the bottle of calvados that was on the side of the bar. ‘One of Matthew’s minions dropped a few bottles of this off earlier today,’ she sai
d as she sloshed a couple of generous measures into two tumblers. ‘I guess you probably know but he’s thinking of producing a limited edition run of it. Wanted to know how it would go down with the restaurant’s clientele.’
‘Actually, he hasn’t spoken to me about it. Have there been many takers?’ He and Matthew had agreed to experiment with the production of a small batch of calvados after Jonathan had clocked the success of the gin tastings at Kelli’s wine shop in the village earlier in the year, but he hadn’t been aware that Matthew had actually produced something worth marketing. That was another thing to add to the list of irritations, he thought.
‘A few,’ Caroline said. ‘But I’ve yet to try it. After the Wookey Witch cider punch experience, I thought I’d stay off fermented apples for a while.’ She picked up the two glasses and the bottle. ‘But since this one was a freebie, I suppose we can indulge a little.’ She sat down rather heavily on the sofa and let out a long breath.
‘Busy night?’ Jonathan asked. Uncharacteristically shy, he hovered by the bar, dithering about whether or not to sit down next to Caroline. Funny, he thought. With anyone else I’d just get right on in there.
Caroline shifted over. ‘Come and join me if you want to.’
Jonathan didn’t need a second invitation and as the leather sofa creaked comfortingly, he took a deep swig of the apple brandy.
‘It’s not bad,’ he admitted, half-grudgingly.
Caroline nodded as the fiery liquid slipped over her tongue and down her throat. ‘Are you all right?’ she asked, noticing Jonathan’s pensive expression.
Jonathan smiled. ‘Better for the booze and the company.’
‘Me too,’ Caroline replied, in slight surprise. After the note, the white powder and the photo, she didn’t think she’d ever feel relaxed again, but having Jonathan by her side was reassuring. ‘But why might you need to feel better?’
Jonathan sighed. ‘Once again, you don’t mess about, do you?’ He leaned back. ‘It’s been a hell of a week.’
‘Girlfriend not returning your calls?’ Caroline quipped, immediately wishing she hadn’t when Jonathan’s expression darkened.
‘You really do think I just think with my cock, don’t you?’ He knocked back his calvados.
An uncomfortable silence descended. Both sipped their drinks, waiting for the other to break it.
‘I’m sorry,’ Caroline said gently. ‘Why don’t you tell me what it is that’s bothering you.’
Jonathan sighed. ‘I don’t really want to talk about it.’
‘Then why are you here?’
Jonathan found himself caught in her gaze, clear green eyes softened by the warm lights of the restaurant, and he could feel himself falling. It would be so easy to put the moves on her right now, but he sensed he was very likely to get a slap around the face if he did. And it wouldn’t do much to dispel his earlier assertion, either. The realisation suddenly hit him that, if he wanted Caroline, he’d have to wait for her to make the first move, and, frustrating as that was, he was prepared to wait.
‘I don’t know really. I suppose I just wanted the company of someone who doesn’t think they know it all, about me or the fucking business.’
‘You’ve chosen well then,’ Caroline said. ‘Since we’ve only known each other a few months.’
Jonathan poured them both another glass of calvados. ‘It’s a long, tedious story, really, but I guess it really starts over a decade ago, and is still playing out now.’ He sighed. ‘I always knew coming back here would be a challenge, after what happened with me and Tara, Matthew’s first wife, but I never realised how difficult it would be.’
Grateful to have a distraction from her own woes, Caroline smiled gently in encouragement. She’d never seen Jonathan like this, and she found his vulnerability, in contrast to his more usual confident manner, strangely appealing. ‘Why don’t you tell me about it?’
‘It was fucking awful,’ Jonathan said softly. ‘Tara and I had this ridiculous affair for a few months, sneaking around behind everyone’s back, especially Matthew. And poor Meredith, who was only three when it started, was left to her own devices in the front room of Cowslip Barn a few too many times for my liking.’ He shuddered. ‘There was one occasion when we came back downstairs after a quickie to find Meredith working her way through a packet of chocolate biscuits and chopping up Tara and Matthew’s wedding album. Poor kid didn’t know what hit her when Tara saw what she’d done. She’d been sticking all the chopped up pictures in her own scrap book.’
‘Poor Meredith,’ Caroline said. ‘She must have been so confused.’
Jonathan looked thoughtful. ‘To be honest, I don’t think she really understood. That much, I’m thankful for. It wasn’t until last year that she actually found out what had happened between the three of us, and the fallout from that was hideous for quite a while. Back then, when the shit finally hit the fan, Tara had come to me earlier that evening, bags packed, ready to go. She’d had enough and she wanted out. And she had Meredith in tow. I was utterly shell shocked. I’d never expected her to leave Matthew, and there she was, plane tickets in hand, demanding I go with her.’
‘What had you expected?’ Caroline asked. ‘That you could just go on shagging your brother’s wife on the quiet and no one would find out?’
Jonathan shook his head. ‘I’d have shagged anything that moved at that point. I had no idea what actual commitment was. When she showed up, I didn’t know how to handle it. But I was shit scared if I didn’t get her, me and Meredith out of there sharpish, Matthew would turn up and go ballistic.’
‘From what I understand of your brother, he’d never have hurt any of you,’ Caroline replied, topping up their glasses.
‘You’ve no idea the pressure he was under at that time,’ Jonathan said. ‘He was so tired from running the business, Tara’s unhappiness and Meredith’s terrible threes that he couldn’t see straight, let alone think straight. I didn’t want to be the one who got in his way.’
‘So, what happened?’
‘He came home earlier than Tara expected and put two and two together. Knew exactly where to come, too. Nearly broke the door down once he realised.’ Jonathan’s voice trembled slightly. ‘It was the worst night of my life.’
Caroline wanted to be sceptical; she wanted to write Jonathan off as a womanising twat, but the look on his face showed how haunted he was by what he’d done all those years ago.
‘Then what?’ She prompted gently.
‘Tara cut him off in the hallway, tried to explain to him what was going on. She was past caring whether or not she was going to hurt him, or, indeed he, her.’ Jonathan swallowed. ‘I could hear them from where I was in the living room. Matthew was utterly desperate; I could tell from the tone of his voice. And I suddenly realised what we’d done. Meredith was cuddled up on my knee; it was way past her bedtime and she was really drowsy. If we’d left ten minutes earlier, Matthew would never have worked it out until it was too late to stop us.’ He picked up his apple brandy glass and drained it. ‘As it was, he burst in on Meredith and me, and with amazing presence of mind, considering, asked Merry to go and find Tara. Then he decked me. Smacked me right in the mouth.’ Jonathan shook his head. ‘It’s the first and last time he’s ever hit me. I did deserve it, though. If it’d had been the other way round, I’d have punched the life out of him. Then he took Meredith home, but not before he’d told us both, in no uncertain terms, never to darken his door again.’
‘Fuck,’ Caroline breathed. ‘What did you do?’
‘We left,’ Jonathan said simply. ‘But Matthew wouldn’t let Meredith leave the country with us. Said he’d call the police and cite child abduction. Tara was devastated but she knew she didn’t have a leg to stand on. We got the next flight back to the US. We shacked up together for a few weeks afterwards but it didn’t last.’
‘So you can’t even say that you did it because you thought you were going to be together forever.’ Caroline shook her head. ‘What a waste.’<
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‘True, but if I hadn’t fucked up his marriage, he’d never have married Anna, and you and I would never have met,’ Jonathan managed a weak smile. ‘And let’s face it, Tara would have walked soon enough anyway; with me or someone else.’
‘You really think so?’ Caroline looked Jonathan directly in the eye. ‘Or are you just telling yourself that to make yourself feel better?’
‘You don’t mess about do you, Caroline?’
‘I’ve learned not to just settle for the easy explanation,’ Caroline said wryly. ‘Too many ways to fool yourself if you do. And to me, it sounds like that’s what you’re doing by trying to justify what you did.’
Jonathan shook his head. ‘It was all a long time ago. There’s been a lot of water, blood and cider under the bridge since then. And, frankly, darling, when you get to be as old as we are, I’m sure everyone’s got things they’re not too proud of in their past.’
Caroline’s stomach lurched at the memory of some of hers, especially considering the contents of the envelope she’d had through her door recently. ‘Yes, perhaps you’re right.’
‘Anything you’d like to tell me, since we seem to be in the confessional tonight?’
For a moment Caroline was tempted to come completely clean; if anyone was going to understand the darker nights of her past, it was Jonathan. After all, he’d had a fair few of his own from the sound of it. But there was so much to explain, so many shadows. She was in no way ready to confront them, not even with Jonathan by her side.
‘Another time, perhaps,’ Caroline said. Maybe it was the calvados, or perhaps it was the fact that Jonathan had dropped his guard and confided in her, or maybe even that she was scared of spending another night alone, knowing that he was out there somewhere, but Caroline’s own defences were down. She was, she thought wryly, Jonathan’s for the taking. Hesitating for a moment, unsure of his response, she leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the forehead. As her lips came into contact with his warm skin her heart skipped several beats.