New Hope for the Little Cornish Farmhouse

by Nancy Barone

  I felt left out, if not betrayed. What they did behind closed doors was their affair. But they could at least have been honest about the relationship. The Three’s Company joke had always been just that – a joke. So why were they playing silly buggers? They had both changed drastically in the last couple of months, since Luke had arrived, actually. I guess that my being busy with him had forced Jack and Emma into an intimacy they hadn’t seen coming and bam. It all fitted perfectly – the embarrassed silences, their secret rendezvous in Truro. Now all the invisible pieces had fallen into place.

  *

  The next day Alice came over for coffee and a catch-up on my work. She was as annoyed as I was that Luke had gone AWOL. It seemed to me lately that men just couldn’t be trusted. Every time I went near one, it was a disaster. Better single, in the end.

  ‘And not one word about the script?’ Alice asked me when I told her about my worries about Ben and about Luke’s messages (or lack of) over the past months.

  ‘Not a word about anything. I know he’s busy and frustrated, but Jesus…’

  ‘Of course, you should sue him if he doesn’t come back by the end of the month,’ Alice suggested.

  ‘Sue him? Why on earth would I do that?’

  ‘Because he’s in breach of contract. You have to protect yourself, Nina.’

  I lowered my head. ‘I just thought… I wanted to be able to finally trust someone.’

  ‘Oh, honey, don’t we all? But this is unacceptable, running off from a job – and you – like that without a word except for cursory texts.’

  ‘Alice, you know what happened. His wife threatened to take his daughter away. He could really lose her. He needs time and space.’ Or so I kept telling myself.

  She sighed. ‘We all have problems, Nina. And I sympathise, even if his decision is affecting me as well, long-term. But he has responsibilities he can’t just shake off. Every day that goes by without that script loses us money.’

  I knew she was right. She was the money side of everything. But sometimes, I wished she understood that it wasn’t always about the money. What about love, dreams, pride, honour, hope and happiness? Was there really no room left for such things in our modern-day, hectic, vain lives?

  But as much as I hated to admit it, Alice was right in a way. Luke had behaved like Phil, leaving me hanging in a hot mess. Granted, Luke had no responsibility towards my children but he did to our project. I didn’t want to rock the boat with demands I wasn’t quite sure I had a right to make. On the sentimental level, at least. But work-wise, Alice was right. I had to protect my family’s future.

  ‘Especially after he stopped us from making the deal with Ben. We’d practically be in production by now if it wasn’t for Luke.’

  I shrugged, unsure of what to say. She did have a point, but this entire showbiz thing was definitely not for me.

  ‘Nina, face it, he’s gone, and what has he given you in return?’

  I was silent. ‘It’s not like the project is dead. He told me to keep writing in his absence.’

  Silence.

  ‘What, you don’t think I can do it?’ I asked.

  ‘Of course I do. But you’re not Hollywood. We need Luke’s name – and money – to back us up.’

  I knew she was right. Three Sunday Times bestsellers did not a scriptwriter make.

  ‘I’m calling Ben Stein.’

  ‘What? No.’

  ‘Why not? He wanted that movie badly. I’m sure he’ll gladly take it off Luke’s hands.’

  ‘But that’s unethical!’ I cried.

  ‘Unethical? Honey, you need to wake up and smell the coffee here. Luke is – make no mistake – in breach of contract. If you sue him, not only do you get a settlement, but you could still get a new deal with Ben Stein.’

  ‘I don’t like it, Alice…’

  ‘Nonsense. It’s a win-win situation. What’s not to like?’

  ‘What about the clauses? Wasn’t there something in the contract about delays?’

  ‘Yes, but not regarding delays this long, Nina. It’s been months now.’

  Sue Luke? I could never do that to him. Even if he could afford it and I was in desperate need. My mind simply didn’t work that way.

  She huffed. ‘Did he promise you anything?’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘A ring?’

  ‘A ring? Of course not, we’ve only just met.’

  ‘Well, then make sure he returns and gives you one. Either that or the contract. You can’t be left empty-handed.’

  I groaned. ‘Alice, I can’t think like you. Can we just drop this for now?’

  ‘For now,’ she conceded. ‘But it will rear its ugly head again before you know it.’

  While I was wrapping up my next batch of arancini, all two hundred of them, my mobile phone went. Chloe was at Chanel’s and Ben was with Jack, working on their secret project, so I didn’t have to worry about them.

  But then I saw it was Jack’s number. ‘Mum!’ Ben cried.

  I clutched the phone, already horrid thoughts of disasters flooding my mind. Was there another fire? ‘Ben, what is it?’

  ‘Can you come over, Mum? It’s ready!’

  I sagged in relief. For once it wasn’t a broken nose or a fractured collarbone. ‘What is?’

  ‘Our project, Mum! You have to come and see it. We’re in the warehouse!’

  ‘I’ll be right over,’ I promised, smiling to myself. He sounded so happy. I grabbed my keys, the cake I’d made for Jack to thank him for his kindness towards Ben, a shawl, a jacket for Ben and then finally pushed my feet into my wellies before letting myself out the door.

  Up ahead, the setting sun had smeared the sky with lashes of pink and purple. Ah, sometimes it really was the free things that gave us pleasure in life. I wished Jessica could see this. I wished Luke could see it as well.

  As it turned out, the surprise was nothing small. It was humongous, covered with an olive green tarpaulin. Ben jumped around, almost tripping as Jack steadied him. ‘You ready, mate?’

  Ben nodded eagerly. ‘Ready!’

  I looked back and forth between the two of them, wondering if they had gone completely mad.

  ‘Now, you know that Ben has been working on this for months now,’ Jack said.

  ‘Yes, yes, unveil it already!’ I cried, as excited as Ben, if not more. For months now, my baby had spent all his afternoons working on something for me.

  Jack walked up to the edge of the tarpaulin. ‘Here goes!’ he cried, and yanked it down.

  I stepped back, ready to faint.

  36

  Triangle

  ‘Mum! Mum! You okay?’

  ‘Nina, are you all right?’

  I opened and closed my mouth. ‘How… where… did you get this?’ I cried as I looked upon a large vehicle, something between a van and a trailer. It was bright red, green and white, like the Italian flag, with a sign that read Nina’s Arancini.

  ‘Like it, Mum? It’s your brand-new food truck! No more cooking for restaurants for you!’

  I hugged Ben to me, feeling the flood of tears gushing down my cheeks and into my mouth. ‘Oh, it’s absolutely gorgeous!’ I bawled, and Ben jumped up and down on his longer leg, clapping his hands in glee, his face bright red with joy.

  ‘Well, not brand-new, really,’ Jack confessed. ‘It’s what was left of your trailer, remember?’

  I gasped. ‘Oh, my God, Jack! And you’ve kept it all these years?’

  He blushed. ‘Sorry it took so long, but Ben and I had, uhm… artistic differences.’

  ‘Ohhh,’ I cried as I grabbed them both, smothering them with kisses. ‘Thank you, thank you, thank you so much, guys! I’d have never been able to do this by myself! I wouldn’t have even thought of it!’

  They led the way into the food truck and showed me the cooker, the deep fryer and the work surface, along with the fridge and all the clever shelving.

  ‘And now you can sell your arancini and keep the profit for yourself instead
of giving more than half of it to those greedy restaurant owners who pass your little miracles off as their own!’ Jack said.

  I stepped back and beamed at them as I patted their hair down and restored their clothing to their initial position.

  ‘You two have made me the proudest, happiest woman alive.’

  Jack stuffed his hands into his pockets. ‘Thank Ben – he did all the hard grafting.’

  I hunkered down and took Ben’s hands in mine, and he sobered, understanding the importance of what I was about to say.

  ‘Never,’ I said, swallowing back my tears, ‘has a mother ever been so proud of her son, as I am of you, my darling Ben. But even without this marvellous, selfless gift, you would still be the best son a woman could ever pray for. You and Chloe are the reason I live.’

  He looked at me for a long moment, and then threw his arms around my neck with all his might. I kissed his baby cheeks over and over again, aware in the background that Jack was swiping at his cheek nonchalantly.

  And after we all had our sob session, I stood up and wiped my eyes, laughing like a lunatic. ‘I’m calling Truro town hall for a licence tomorrow, and I’m quitting the restaurants! And you two are going to be my first guests!’

  ‘Already done,’ Jack informed me. ‘You can get out there for tomorrow if you want.’

  ‘You didn’t!’

  ‘I did. Hey, where are you going?’ he said as I headed for the door.

  ‘To type a letter of resignation to the Poldark Tours company!’ I called over my shoulder. ‘Come on, we’re going to celebrate!’

  I invited Jack over for the afternoon, just so we could take our time talking, but he insisted on helping me make dinner.

  It was still so strange, having him back in the house again, but it also felt right, as if the very house was exhaling in relief, and telling him, both with its silences and sounds, that it had been waiting for him to come back. And he listened to it in return, his eyes meeting mine.

  ‘It’s so good to have you back, Jack,’ I whispered. ‘It just wasn’t the same without you. It was quite rubbish. Absolute shit, in fact.’

  Even Minnie and Callie monopolised him by lying each on one of his feet as he sat working away at the table. He should have never disappeared from our lives in the first place, and I wanted him to know that.

  His eyes crinkled as he smiled, and I thanked our lucky stars.

  As promised, the next day I went over to Jack’s to teach him to bake an apple pie, as it was the least I could do for him.

  When I got there, he was already at the kitchen island, surrounded by every known cooking ingredient and implement his mum had ever owned. His kitchen was amazing, with all the proper copper pots hanging above, and a triple oven and a fridge the size of my entire kitchen.

  ‘Hey, right on time,’ he said as I put my keys down on the counter. ‘The oven is pre-heating and the kettle is boiling.’

  ‘What’s the kettle for?’

  ‘Coffee,’ he answered. ‘You don’t expect me to bake without any caffeine in me, do you?’

  ‘Okay, I’ll make it,’ I offered, busying myself. When I looked up, he was sticking his head through one of his mum’s old aprons – precisely one with a Toile de Jouy pattern.

  To see a man like Jack, who was six feet, had a permanent five o’clock shadow and shoulders the size of a Bentley, wearing such a dainty little number was just too much and I bent over in a fit of giggles, nearly spilling our coffees as tears slid down my face.

  ‘Wha-at…?’ he said, laughing along as he took a sip. ‘I find it rather suits me, don’t you think?’

  I wiped my eyes, paused to look at him once more, and started giggling all over again.

  ‘Laugh it up,’ he chuckled, shaking his head. ‘It’s easy for you to talk. There’s nothing you can’t cook, while I don’t know how this kitchen is still standing.’

  ‘I told you, it’s easy. Here,’ I said, bumping him aside with my hip. ‘Watch the real experts at work. The first thing is your filling. Have you got your apples ready?’

  ‘Has the Pope got a Bible? Fresh from the orchard,’ he assured me, sweeping a large hand over his bounty of colloget pippins covering the opposite end of the island.

  ‘Might have been useful to start peeling them, you lazy toad,’ I said, reaching for a knife. ‘Or at least peel them and put them in water so they don’t oxidise.’

  He grinned. ‘I like it when you talk dirty, Nina.’

  ‘Come on, you, start peeling,’ I said, and soon we fell into companionable silence as we worked through the mountain of apples.

  ‘Christ, how many do we need for one pie?’

  ‘We should make more than one. Try different sizes and stuff,’ I said. ‘Now you add just a touch of sugar, a bit of cinnamon – at least that’s the way I do it. And you can freeze the filling for next time, too. That’s the beauty of it. Where’s your flour?’

  He put his knife down and looked at me in panic. ‘Shit.’

  I laughed. ‘I’ll go home and get mine. I always have some on hand.’

  ‘No, let me check the pantry,’ he said, wiping his huge hands on the tiny apron and I wanted to laugh all over again as he filled the entire pantry with his person, looking like a giant in a dollhouse as he rummaged around the top shelf, knocking over boxes and jars in the meantime. ‘Got it!’

  ‘Check the expiration date.’

  His eyebrows shot up. ‘Flour expires?’

  ‘Usually when the weevils arrive, yeah.’

  He stuck his head in the bag. ‘No weevils in here.’

  ‘You sure? Then we’re good to go. Sieve?’

  He joined me back at the island, where I showed him how to dice the butter and, using only his fingertips, mix in the flour. ‘You need to be very delicate so the butter doesn’t heat up.’

  ‘Like this?’ he asked dubiously, his huge fingers gently plucking the flour and butter.

  ‘Perfect. Now pull it all together into one big lump and gently knead it. Like this,’ I said, taking over as he sat on the stool and observed me.

  ‘You watching carefully?’ I prompted.

  ‘Huh? I was actually looking at your hands. They’re so tiny.’

  ‘Says the Jolly Green Giant. Yours could whack a man back to yesterday. Then you take your rolling pin and even out your pastry. Depending on the diameter of your pie, you thin it out accordingly so you don’t get paper-thin wagon wheels or tiny pies that are so thick you can’t even eat them. Here, have a go.’

  ‘Like this?’ he asked as he delicately spread the pastry out.

  ‘Hey, you’re actually good at this. Sure you’ve never done it before?’

  ‘No, but I used to watch my mum.’

  Next, we filled our pies and I taught him to crimp the edges with a twist of my fingers. It was funny how many things were second nature to me but presented a problem to him. Anyway, his hands were too big. ‘I’ll get you a crimper to make it easier for you.’

  When we had made enough shapes and sizes to fill both ovens, we bunged them in and set the timer, bearing in mind that the tiny pies only need a few minutes, so we placed them at the front of the oven.

  ‘Satisfied?’ I asked, as we knelt to the floor to peer through the glass door, his head level with mine.

  ‘Absolutely chuffed, Nina. Thank you.’ He turned to me, his eyes twinkling and crinkling at the corners. I had never noticed that they were actually a dark hazel, and not brown. And there was an inner ring of golden flecks just around the pupil. The things you could see up close. How had I managed to spend all these years in his company and never notice that?

  And why, all of a sudden, did any of that matter? Why, after three years, were his good looks and charm having such an effect on me now, of all times? How had I never noticed that he was so manly, sexy but at the same time impish and adorable? It had to be the dimples bracketing his lips. When he smiled they danced like… April showers in a ray of sunlight.

  ‘I couldn’t have d
one it without you,’ he continued as he moved in to kiss my cheek, but at the same time I turned my head, and his lips accidentally smacked mine in a kiss. I froze for a moment, suddenly unsettled.

  ‘Oops, sorry!’ I then tittered, but he was looking solemnly, deeply into my eyes as if searching for something, his eyes darting to my lips, and before I knew what he was about, he took my head in his hands, and with an urgency I never knew he was capable of, caught my mouth in a long, deep, utterly delicious and knicker-melting kiss. Dizziness and confusion overwhelmed me as my heart hammered its way up into my head, which was swimming in naughty, naughty sensations.

  All I wanted was his mouth on mine forever, and his arms around me. What was happening to us?

  I hung on to him as the room spun like mad.

  ‘Nina,’ he whispered against my lips between our kisses. ‘Stay with me. I love you…’

  I love you, too, Jack! I wanted to cry. I also wanted him to take me upstairs. But I fought against my instincts and wrestled myself back to sanity. Stay with him? He loved me? How could he even say such nonsense, and how could I even contemplate the idea when he was secretly involved with Emma? I couldn’t do that to her. It would break her heart all over again! What was the matter with me? And Jack? I knew he’d been a bit of a playboy in the past, but how could he think he could play with me and Emma like that? Where was the respect for her – and me? This was not the Jack I knew.

  I sat up and pushed him away softly, and he instantly let go as if I’d slapped him. ‘Please don’t do that again, Jack, if you value our friendship.’

  He sat back, lowering his eyes. ‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered solemnly, like a little boy being reprimanded by his headmaster.

  I would never want to ruin a friendship because of a kiss, so I cleared my throat and whispered back, ‘Then let’s just forget it ever happened, okay?’

  He ran a hand through his dark curls that had grown back, nodding as he stood up – ‘Okay…’ he finally croaked, holding out his other hand to help me to my feet, which was fortunate as I was still shaking. The contact with his body sent my hormones – if not my dignity – in sudden overdrive, and I had to step back.