Avery looked steadily at Jonas. ‘I had an emergency laparotomy because my pregnancy was ectopic. I was bleeding into my abdomen. The affected fallopian tube was removed, and when I came round afterwards I was told there was some damage to the other tube. So no more children.’
Jonas took in a deep, unsteady breath. ‘Morrell was delighted, of course,’ he said bitterly.
‘Positively jubilant. He told me our little problem had been solved very neatly. We would say it was an emergency appendix, and no one would be any the wiser. We could carry on as normal once I was fit.’ Avery’s mouth turned down. ‘At that moment I was anything but fit. To Paul it was the perfect solution, but to me it was the loss of a baby. My baby. And any others I might have had. I felt ill and tearful and in desperate need of my mother, so when I was discharged Paul drove me home to Gresham Road.
‘I’m ashamed to say I was too wrapped up in my own misery for a while to realise that my mother was looking worse than me. When I did I had a word with her doctor, who said her heart condition was deteriorating.’ Avery got up to fetch a tissue and blew her nose. ‘So I resigned my job and stayed home, not only to look after my mother and help with the work she had on hand, but to make the most of her company while I still could. I told Paul it was over between us, but he flatly refused to accept it. After all this time he still won’t accept it, even though I’ve never let him into this house since he drove me here three years ago.’
‘I could kill the bastard,’ said Jonas savagely. ‘I came near to it on Friday in El Vino’s. After he fed me his story I took him by the throat, shook him like a rat and told him that if he breathes a word about it again I shall not only rearrange his pretty face but take great pleasure in saying he made sexual overtures to me.’
‘Gosh, that should shut him up,’ said Avery, impressed.
‘Morrell was lucky that someone came in at that point, otherwise he might have got more than just a sore throat and a fright.’ Jonas leaned forward slightly. ‘His motivation is obvious. He’s obviously persuaded himself that you’ll relent towards him one day. Then I arrive on the scene and you tell him you’re going to marry me. So the little bastard plays dirty and tries to put a stop to it.’
‘And succeeds,’ said Avery.
‘And succeeds,’ agreed Jonas harshly, straightening. He was silent for some time, but at last raised his head to lock brooding eyes with hers. ‘You probably don’t want to hear this right now, but I can’t leave without saying it. I love you, Avery.’
She eyed him sadly. ‘Yet you believed Paul. Where was that trust you talked about, Jonas?’
‘I know, I know!’ He rubbed a hand over his eyes. ‘I wish to God I could take back what I said.’
‘So do I. But you can’t.’ She shrugged. ‘And, as Paul Morrell can testify, I’m an unforgiving soul.’
Jonas regarded her in silence for a long, tense interval that stretched Avery’s nerves to breaking point. At last he nodded bleakly and stood up. ‘In that case there’s nothing more to say.’
Avery got to her feet, eyeing his pallor with concern. ‘Are you sure you’re up to the journey back so soon?’
‘I’ll survive. I’ll call in to see my parents on the way back. I’ll feign illness and let my mother fuss over me for a while.’ He smiled mirthlessly, then winced. ‘Damn, that hurt. My jaw is still throbbing from that slap you gave me. A good thing I don’t have much to smile about right now.’
Neither had she, thought Avery, as she watched him limp down the path to his car. Jonas turned at the gate, raised a hand in sombre salute, and she closed the door quickly rather than watch him disappear out of her life.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
THREE evenings after her life-altering trip to London, Avery was about to leave for home when Nadine Cox rang.
‘Great, I’ve caught you, Avery. I’ve got some flowers for you at my place. Save me a trip to Gresham Road and take them with you—there’s a love.’
Avery locked up and went along to the flower shop, her eyes wide when Nadine handed over an arrangement of exquisite pink roses.
‘Lovely Lady variety. Nice, aren’t they? There’s no note,’ said Nadine, looking awkward. ‘Mr Mercer ordered them, and said he would ring you to explain. If you’ll take them to your car I’ll carry the other bunch for you.’
‘There’s more?’
‘I had to order the second one specially, otherwise you could have had them both yesterday,’ said Nadine, and went into the back to fetch a great armful of crimson peonies. ‘Treat them carefully; these babies cost a fortune. So did the roses at this time of year. By the way,’ she added, ‘no one else knows who sent them. Mr Mercer insisted on that, which is why I didn’t come round to your place earlier.’
When Avery got home she made two trips into the house to transport her flowers to the kitchen table, then hugged her arms across her chest as she stood back to look at them. The flamboyant crimson peonies were self-explanatory, but the roses were freaking her out.
She eyed the phone, but instead of ringing Jonas she switched on the radio for company as she arranged the roses in one of her grandmother’s crystal vases. But when the Walker Brothers informed her that breaking up was so very hard to do, she switched it off again. Tell me about it, she thought morosely, as she searched for a container big enough to display the peonies.
Fortunately for Avery Jonas rang her before burning curiosity had driven her to call him first. ‘Did you get the flowers?’ he demanded.
‘Yes, indeed. Thank you. They’re magnificent.’
‘Was Nadine able to find red peonies?’
‘She had to order them specially.’
‘I noticed some in a display down here and thought of you. They’re my not very original way of saying I’m sorry.’
‘But why send roses as well?’
‘As a useless but heartfelt apology to your mother.’
‘I see.’ Avery decided against telling him that pink roses had been Ellen Crawford’s favourite flower. ‘Are you feeling better?’
‘Not much. My appearance excited considerable comment yesterday. I couldn’t let on I’d been mugged by a girl, so I fixed the inquisitors with a steely look and said nothing apart from that I was feeling a bit under the weather.’
‘I can picture it,’ said Avery dryly. ‘Thank you for ringing, Jonas. And for the flowers.’
‘They may not be much consolation to you, Avery, but sending them made me feel slightly better.’
‘It made me feel better, too.’
‘But not to the point of a change of heart?’
‘No,’ she said gently. ‘Not enough for that. Goodnight.’
Avery Alterations had several orders for weddings on hand; among them was Frances White’s marriage to Philip Lester, who wanted his bride to wear a white wedding gown.
‘I did hint that a white dress of any kind at my age could be tricky to bring off, especially in February, but in the end he persuaded me,’ Frances said ruefully. ‘Not that I’m going for anything over the top. I’ll make a plain white sheath—useful for dining on the honeymoon. And for the wedding I plan to wear that ecru lace jacket I bought at the antiques fair we went to last year, Avery.’
‘Really?’ Avery eyed her suspiciously. ‘It needed a fair bit of restoration.’
‘That’s where you come in,’ said the bride-to-be serenely, winning grins from Helen and Louise at Avery’s look of dismay. ‘Will you repair it for me?’
‘I’d rather buy you some lace to make a new one!’
‘I prefer my vintage jacket,’ insisted Frances, and played her trump card. ‘If someone else had brought it in you’d do it like a shot.’
Defeated, Avery promised to do her best, with the proviso that if the results failed to come up to her own exacting standard she would revert to Plan B and buy a length of ecru lace for a new jacket.
In spite of her protests Avery was grateful for the work involved in the repair. It needed such painstaking care that she took
it home to concentrate on in the evenings and at the weekends, which dragged now Jonas was no longer in her life. Frances had been devastated when she heard this, but gave up asking questions when she realised Avery couldn’t bear to talk about it.
The lifespan of both peonies and roses had been short, and Avery was glad of it. Every time she’d looked at the roses she heard her mother reminding her that human life was also short, and Jonas Mercer was male and human, and had been suffering from a heady mix of jealousy and disillusion laced with alcohol, and therefore not in a normal state of mind when he’d lashed out with the words that had won him a slap around the face.
Avery came to agree with this as she worked on the fragile lace. Gradually her unforgiving soul grew a lot less unforgiving, and yearned for Jonas as much as her heart did— and her body. In some ways this was the worst part of all. She missed Jonas in ways she’d never experienced before. In the big bed she’d bought specifically to share with him she longed for him at times with an intensity that taught her it was not only the male of the species who needed cold showers in this situation. Mortified by her rampaging hormones, she took to watching the television he’d given her instead of lying awake all night aching for him.
‘Avery, you look exhausted,’ said Frances one afternoon, when Louise and Helen had left for the day. ‘I’m sorry now that I asked you to mend the jacket. I could have copied it easily enough.’
‘My problem is insomnia, not your jacket,’ Avery assured her.
‘And Jonas is the cause of the insomnia?’
‘Who else?’
Frances went on with the seam she was sewing, but after a while she looked up, her blue eyes gentle. ‘What went wrong, love?’
Avery told her tale as briefly and unemotionally as possible. ‘The thing is,’ she said at last, ‘I was so high and mighty about it. Now I’m in a more rational frame of mind I know that my mother would tell me to forgive and forget.’
‘Then tell Jonas that.’
‘I can’t do that!’
‘Why?’
‘Pride.’
‘Which is making you unhappy,’ said her friend bluntly. ‘Ring him tonight.’
‘I’m going to a Chamber of Trade meeting tonight,’ said Avery promptly.
Frances rolled her big blue eyes. ‘That won’t take all night. Ring him when you get home.’
Avery went to her meeting, joined the others for a drink in the Angel afterwards, then went home to check her phone as usual. And as usual there was no message from Jonas. Not that she had expected one.
She spent next morning on the road, driving to appointments for fittings, and got back in time for lunch to find Frances waiting impatiently for her.
‘We had someone in this morning asking for a repair to a dress.’
‘Not unusual. That’s what I do. What’s the problem?’
‘She’d like it back tomorrow.’ Frances produced a black silk dress with a label which made Avery’s mouth water. Frances turned it inside out and pointed to the place where a few inches of the side seam had come undone. ‘Only it hasn’t come undone, exactly. The stitches have been snipped with a scissors.’
Avery frowned. ‘Was the lady trying to let it out a bit, do you think?’
‘I doubt it. She looked pretty slim to me. But she was in such a rush she forgot to leave her name.’
‘Odd. OK. I’ll do it straight after lunch, before I start the embroidery on Tracey Barrett’s wedding dress.’
‘Did you make that phone call last night?’ asked Frances.
‘No. I told you. I had a meeting to go to, and we had a drink afterwards.’
‘I see. What excuse have you thought up for tonight?’
Avery’s chin lifted. ‘Look, Frances, you might as well know I’m not going to ring Jonas tonight or any other night. It’s over.’
Frances eyed her in deep dismay, but something about Avery’s manner discouraged argument. She held up her hands in rueful surrender. ‘All right. You’re the boss. I won’t nag you any more.’
The owner of the silk dress arrived in the shop next day, just after Philip had taken Frances out for lunch, and Avery took one look at the fair hair and ravishingly beautiful face and knew exactly who she was.
The young woman smiled, her eyes frankly curious. ‘Hello. Are you Avery Crawford? I’m Hetty Tremayne.’
‘I know.’
‘Really?’
Aware of interest from Helen and Louise, Avery introduced them and then produced the dress to display the invisible repair.
‘Marvellous!’ said its owner. ‘Good as new. How much do I owe you?’
Avery named the lowest sum she could possibly charge for the simple repair, money was handed over and change returned, and Hetty Tremayne smiled coaxingly.
‘You know I live a fair distance away? I need a bite to eat before I start back, so as thanks for doing the repair so quickly please let me buy you lunch.’
‘That’s very kind of you. Thank you.’
On the short walk to the café Hetty smiled apologetically. ‘I was afraid to leave my name yesterday in case you wouldn’t see me.’
Avery shook her head. ‘No danger of that. But if you’d wanted to talk to me we could have had lunch without injury to the dress.’
‘I wasn’t sure you’d agree to that,’ explained Hetty, oblivious of heads turning as they entered the café. Her waxed jacket had seen as much service as her yellow cable sweater and leather brogues, but the face and irresistible smile drew every eye in the place as she made for a table at the back, where a slim, fair man got to his feet as Hetty led Avery towards him.
‘How do you do? I’m Charlie Tremayne.’
‘I know,’ said Avery, smiling, and took his hand. ‘I’ve seen your photograph.’
‘Sorry to spring Charlie on you,’ said Hetty, ‘but I was afraid you’d draw the line at two of us.’
Charlie held a chair for Avery, and looked at her with frank interest as the three of them settled at the table. ‘It’s good of you to spare the time to see us.’
‘Is something wrong?’ she asked, looking from the pleasant, unremarkable face to the traffic-stopping features of his wife.
‘Yes, it is,’ said Hetty gloomily. ‘But let’s order first. What do you recommend? And I know today’s special is meat and potato pie, Charlie, but please give it a miss. We have that all the time at home.’
While they waited for toasted sandwiches the Tremaynes asked interested questions about Avery’s business, leaving the real reason for their visit until their lunch arrived.
‘I’m delighted to meet you both, but why did you want to see me?’ asked Avery as she took a sandwich.
Hetty sighed. ‘We both love Jonas is the short answer. We just can’t stand by and do nothing when he’s making such a pig’s breakfast of his life.’
Avery sat suddenly still. ‘What’s wrong?’
Charlie gave her a worried frown. ‘Jonas does nothing but work, work, work. He won’t come to the Barn, he won’t go to Lilian for Sunday lunch—’
‘Who’s Lilian?’
‘His mother. She’s worried. I am too.’
Hetty nodded in agreement. ‘Jonas is in imminent danger of becoming a statistic. I can just see the headlines.’
Avery blinked. ‘What headlines?’
‘You know the kind of thing—“Thirty-something entrepreneur dies from coronary through overwork”. Are you prepared to let him do that?’ demanded Hetty as she filled their cups.
‘It’s not up to me. I haven’t seen Jonas for ages—’
‘That’s the point,’ said Charlie gently. ‘You sent him packing and he’s taking it hard.’
Avery stirred her coffee slowly. ‘So what do you want me to do?’
‘For starters, tell us why you won’t forgive him.’
She looked up sharply. ‘Jonas told you I won’t?’
Charlie shook his head. ‘Lilian rang me, asking for help, so I went charging off to London to see him. I practical
ly had to apply thumbscrews to make Jonas talk, but in the end he told me you won’t marry him. He wouldn’t say why.’
Hetty leaned nearer. ‘Tell us the truth, darling. Do you love Jonas?’
Avery thought about lying, but in the end nodded reluctantly. ‘Yes. I do.’
‘Then can’t you tell him that? Charlie says Jonas is crazy about you. So kiss and make up, Avery. Please.’
‘I’ve known him since we were both thirteen,’ said Charlie heavily, ‘and I’ve never seen him like this before.’
Hetty took Avery’s hand. ‘One phone call is all it would take. Then the next time you come to the Barn the four of us can celebrate.’
Avery smiled wryly. ‘Does Jonas bring all his girlfriends to meet the Tremaynes?’
‘No,’ said Charlie, and kissed her on both cheeks as they parted outside the café. ‘You’ll be the first, Avery.’
The Tremaynes drove off, plainly satisfied that they’d done something to help Jonas, but Avery went back to work feeling guilty. She had actually promised nothing. She had no intention of getting in touch with Jonas, no matter what Hetty said about coronaries.
Avery handed over the lace jacket next day. ‘I hope it will do, Frances. Speak now if it won’t, because we’ve got just three days to make another one.’
‘It’s perfect,’ said Frances, examining it, her smile so luminous Avery relaxed.
‘That’s pretty miraculous, boss,’ said Helen, inspecting the lace closely. ‘How on earth do you do it?’
‘Very slowly!’
‘I never thought you’d manage it,’ said Louise frankly.
‘I knew she would.’ Frances smiled serenely. ‘I had complete faith in Avery’s magic.’
The day of the wedding dawned bitterly cold and grey, but by the afternoon February had relented and a wintry sun came out in good time for the ceremony. Avery arrived early, with Helen and Louise and their husbands, and sat towards the front of the candlelit church, admiring the flowers Nadine had arranged with her usual artistry.
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