He held out his arms to pick her up, sliding one arm under her shoulders and the other under her knees. He lifted her easily.
“I must weigh a ton. All that chocolate you fed me.”
“Don’t be silly.”
He pushed open the gate and strode along the path to the folly, pushing through the undergrowth. When he got to the folly, Alice gasped.
“My goodness! Look at it!”
Dillon managed a smile. It had been his secret project. He hadn’t told anyone what he was doing. It was taking him a while, because he did just half an hour here and there when he had a moment. But gradually he was restoring it to its former glory. He’d cut away all the overgrown ivy and brambles, revealing the golden stone underneath. He’d pointed up the brickwork, sanded down the windows and the door, and repainted them the same teal blue the estate used on all its wood. Inside he’d sanded the floorboards, too.
“It’s a surprise,” he said. “For your mother.”
“Oh, Dillon,” said Alice. “What a wonderful thing to do.” He put her down on the old sofa. He’d been going to take it away, because it was old and damp and musty. He took his scarf off to wrap round her neck and keep her warm. She protested, but he insisted.
“I don’t want you getting a chill. Just wait here. I won’t be a tick.”
—
Alice lay back on the sofa. She felt terrible. She’d been trying so hard not to let her leg get the better of her, but her bones were aching; her painkillers were wearing off, and she was freezing. Darling Dillon, she thought. He was so lovely. She couldn’t believe what he’d done to the folly. Her mum was going to be so touched.
She tried to get comfy on the sofa. She thought about what Dillon had told her and felt a squiggle of panic. She knew some of Hugh’s friends were on the wild side, and probably indulged in a bit of drug taking—she wasn’t totally naïve. But Hugh had never hinted that he took part and she’d never seen any evidence. Not that she’d know what to look for, she thought. She was a bit green, she knew that.
But why was Hugh marrying her if that was his scene? He’d go for someone more flashy and glamorous, surely? He had plenty of friends who were, after all, but he’d chosen her. He loved her. She knew he did.
She shut her eyes and her mind wandered. Dear old Dillon: he was so anxious to look out for her. She remembered that moment in the hospital, when she’d thought Dillon was going to kiss her. She couldn’t pretend she hadn’t wanted him to, but it would have made things a bit tricky. She’d always had a bit of a thing for Dillon, but he’d never shown any interest until that afternoon. Though now she realized he hadn’t been interested at all, really. The painkillers must have made her imagination run away. Luckily Hugh had turned up just in time. She felt herself blush at the thought of what might have happened. What was she like? Having fantasies about lovely, kind Dill. He was obviously totally embarrassed about it all. It was why he’d been avoiding her. She was an absolute nit.
She laughed at herself, then put her hands behind her to try to shift round a bit. She felt the corner of a book that had fallen down behind the sofa cushion.
She tugged it and pulled it out. Anna Karenina. She flipped it open. The pages were damp and yellowing.
There was an inscription on the flyleaf. Written in fountain pen.
You are braver and more beautiful than Anna, and I hope I am a better man than Vronsky.
That was it. No indication who it was from or to. No date. Alice turned the page and began to read.
All happy families are alike. Each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.
Well, thought Alice as she began to read. At least my family is a happy one.
—
Dillon was reversing the quad bike out of the yard when Sarah came up to him, her Barbour coat flapping behind her. This was just what he didn’t want. But he couldn’t ignore her. She looked worried.
“Have you seen Alice? She was helping with the garland and then went off somewhere but she hasn’t come back. She’s been ages and it’s raining.”
“I found her up along.” Dillon was deliberately vague. “I was just going to go and fetch her on the quad.”
“Is she all right?”
“Just a bit wet. And tired, I think.”
“Have you left her in the rain?”
Dillon paused for a moment. “She’s in the folly. She’s in the dry.”
Sarah eyed the quad bike. “I’ll come with you.”
He could hardly protest. But he’d wanted to save the surprise until the job was properly finished. She wasn’t going to see it at its best—there was still a bit to do. He couldn’t keep it a secret forever.
“Hop on, then.”
He drove as quickly as he could across the lawns and cut up through the top of the woods along to the folly. He was the only person who’d been up here for the past few weeks. He drew up and killed the engine.
Sarah climbed off and stared in astonishment. “Did you do this?” she asked, and for a moment Dillon thought she was angry. That he had overstepped the mark with his gesture.
“I didn’t want it falling down. It was in a bit of a state. So I thought I’d do some repairs.”
She stared, and there were tears in her eyes. The folly looked loved and cared for again. It had gone to seed, like a middle-aged woman who has stopped bothering. Now it stood proud and gleaming, its paintwork immaculate, intriguing, and inviting.
“It looks wonderful,” she said softly. “Thank you.”
“Let’s go and see if Alice is okay,” he said, gruff with embarrassment.
Sarah took in a deep breath and pushed open the door. She hadn’t been inside since Julius died. Again, Dillon had worked his magic. The walls were painted, the floor sanded, the woodwork repaired.
On the sofa, Alice was engrossed in Anna Karenina.
“Darling!” Sarah rushed over and started to fuss over her. “Your hands are like ice. You silly girl—what were you thinking? Come on, let’s get you back to the house.”
Alice held up the book. “Look what I found down the back of the sofa.”
For a moment, Sarah stood stock-still, as if she’d been turned to stone. Then she took the book from Alice.
“Oh yes. I bought it in a charity shop. I was halfway through. I wondered where it had gone.”
“Here you go,” said Dillon, scooping up Alice again. “There won’t be room for all of us on the quad, I’m afraid.”
“That’s okay,” said Sarah. “I’ll walk back. Take her to the kitchen and make her a hot chocolate. I’ll be just behind you.”
Dillon strode out of the door with Alice in his arms as if she weighed no more than a bag of flour.
Sarah stood in the middle of the folly. The musty, familiar smell of it took her back. She looked at the sofa, gray with dust, and remembered all the times the two of them had sat there, wrapped up in each other while the rain and, on occasion, the snow, fell outside. It had been so cozy. Their little hideaway.
If she turned, she might see him pushing his way through the undergrowth, his face breaking into a smile as he saw her.
She clasped the book to her chest. She’d never see him again. Would it get any easier? she wondered. The gaping hole in her heart where Julius had been?
She looked around the folly, touched to the core by Dillon’s kindness and thoughtfulness. He must have spent hours. She’d have a wood burner put in, she decided, and get some decent furniture. She could come here and read whenever life got too much. It could be her little hideaway once again.
It made her realize something else. Whatever Hugh had said about Dillon causing trouble in the pub and chasing after him, whatever claims he had made, they couldn’t be true. He cared for Alice, she could see that. He was loyal and trustworthy and stalwart. How could she have doubted him, even for a moment?
—
That evening Alice plucked up the courage to confront Hugh. She had to say something. It was eating away at her, what Dillon had told her. They were sitting in the little drawing room before dinner. Hugh had lit the fire and was pouring drinks. He did himself a gin and tonic, and a big glass of elderflower cordial for Alice—she still couldn’t face alcohol.
“I need to ask you something.”
“Of course,” said Hugh, popping a couple of ice cubes into her glass and handing it to her. “There you go, darling.”
“Do you ever . . . do coke?” Alice asked, taking the glass, feeling awkward even just using the word. It sounded so stupid when she said it. “Cocaine, I mean.”
Hugh looked at her in astonishment. “Cocaine? What on earth’s made you ask that?”
“I just . . . heard something. A rumor. And it’s been worrying me.”
“A rumor? Where? From who?”
“Oh, just—just someone in the pub. Someone said you did. Or said that people are saying that you do.” She was babbling a bit, nervous, afraid she had said too much.
Hugh was silent for a moment. He looked down into his drink. When he looked up, his face was grave.
“Do you want the truth?”
“I don’t know,” said Alice, feeling her stomach flip with fear. “Do I?” She swallowed. What was he going to say?
Hugh sighed. “I used to. I was in with a bad crowd and for a couple of years, I dabbled a bit. It was what people did.”
“Oh.”
“But we all do stupid things when we’re young. It’s all behind me now. I wouldn’t touch it with a bargepole these days.” He smiled. “I’m glad it’s out in the open. I don’t want us to have any secrets between us. But it’s not the sort of thing you can just bring up out of the blue, so I’m glad you asked me.”
Alice nodded. She felt rather relieved. Lots of people had a bit of a wild past, but grew out of it. She’d done a few things she probably shouldn’t. Never drugs, but . . .
“Thank you so much for being honest with me. I was worried to death!”
Hugh chuckled. “You thought I was going to snort Peasebrook up my nose?”
“No. I just wanted to know the truth.”
“Well, now you know my murky past. But I’m a reformed character. So you can tell the rumormongers to put a sock in it.” He grinned. “How about you? Have you got any confessions? Any dark secrets you think I should know before it’s too late?”
Alice found herself going red. She told herself it was the heat from the fire.
“To be honest, I don’t think I have, no.”
“Are you sure?” teased Hugh. “You look a bit guilty to me. No cheating at Pony Club camp?”
“Certainly not,” said Alice stoutly. “I got every single one of my trophies fair and square.”
“Well, I’m glad to hear it,” said Hugh.
Alice took a gulp of her elderflower.
She wasn’t going to tell him about wanting to kiss Dillon. She didn’t think that would go down very well at all.
22
On Monday morning, Emilia phoned the staff and told them each about the flood but asked them not to come in. She made up an elaborate excuse about a difficult meeting with the insurers. This was partly true, but the last thing she wanted was them all there helping to clear up and being kind and helpful and supportive, and she couldn’t face them yet. She knew she was betraying them by selling, and although she knew she didn’t need to keep the shop open just because of them, it still sat uneasily with her. They would all be gutted. She couldn’t think about it yet—how to tell them.
She stood in the middle of the shop and looked at the mess. It didn’t seem possible that an overrun bath could cause so much damage. Sorting out the books that hadn’t been damaged was going to be a job in itself, and she wasn’t sure what to do with the remaining ones. Have a big sale? Donate them to a library? Let the townspeople come in and help themselves to whatever they wanted? There would be a riot. They loved their bookshop.
Her heart felt heavy. She’d have to find the courage to tell Sarah Basildon what she was doing as well. She knew Sarah would be upset, not least because that would mean there was no chance of the literary festival she had dreamed of. Was she being selfish? No, she told herself. If Sarah wanted to set up a festival in the future, there’d be loads of people in Peasebrook ready to help.
She felt popped, as if someone had taken a pin to her. She wasn’t sure she deserved to feel like that, but she supposed it was a combination of shock, stress, and the remnants of her grief, on top of whatever bug it was she’d got. Or perhaps it wasn’t a bug—perhaps it was just her body telling her enough was enough.
Oh well. The decision had been made and she was ready for a new chapter. She smiled at the metaphor. If only you could just rewrite things, she thought. Where would she go back to, if she were going to rewrite her life?
There was somebody in the doorway. She hoped it wasn’t one of the staff. She didn’t have the heart for a conversation about the shop’s future.
It was Jackson.
“Bloody hell,” he said, surveying the chaos.
“I left the taps running.” Emilia made a face. “The bath overflowed.”
He cast a professional eye over the aftermath. “I can get you some dehumidifiers. That’ll help dry it out.” He looked up. “And I can patch up the ceiling for you if you want. Temporarily.”
“Thanks, but there’s not much point. I’m just trying to rescue as many books as I can. The next person can worry about the damage.” She looked at him. “I’m selling the shop.”
Jackson didn’t tell her he already knew.
“You can’t sell up. You know that, don’t you?”
“I haven’t got any choice.”
“But what you do here changes people’s lives. For the better.”
“Oh, don’t romanticize.”
“If you close the shop, you’ll never be able to do that for anyone again.”
“Of course I will. In some other way.”
“I think you’ll regret it.” Jackson’s eyes were burning with intensity. “When I came into this shop you seemed so happy with what you were doing. You couldn’t wait to find me something to read. You were made up when I came back and I’d liked it. What other job would give you that?”
“I don’t know yet!” Emilia shrugged.
“Don’t sell it,” said Jackson. “It’s part of who you are.”
“Oh God,” said Emilia. “Jackson, it’s really sweet of you, but the shop’s in debt. I can’t afford to give it the refurb it needs. There’s—there’s about a million reasons why it’s not a good idea. Anyway, I’ve shaken hands on the deal. I can’t go back on it.”
“You can,” said Jackson.
Emilia shook her head. “It’s a done deal.”
Jackson put his hands in his pockets. He prodded the damp carpet with the toe of his shoe, then looked up.
“Um . . . you’re not going to like this, I don’t think. But I’ve got a confession.”
“What?”
“I didn’t come in here to buy books. When I first came in, I was undercover.”
Emilia frowned. What was he on about?
“You’re not from the Inland Revenue?”
“No.” He took a deep breath. “I work for Ian Mendip. I was supposed to try to persuade you to sell him the shop.”
Emilia tried to take in what he was saying. It didn’t make sense at first, but then she realized it was just Mendip’s style. And, it turned out, Jackson’s.
“Bastard!”
“Who—me, or him?”
“I don’t know. Both of you.” She looked furious. “So you didn’t want to read to Finn at all? That wanting to be a good father line was just a bluff—”
“No! It was to start with, I sup
pose—”
“Get out,” said Emilia, pointing to the door.
Jackson stood his ground.
“Look, I don’t feel good about it. Once I’d met you, I didn’t want to go through with it. You changed my life, with those books you gave me. You made me see things as they should be. You’ve made me see what I should be. It’s too late for me and Mia, but . . . well, I understand where I went wrong now. I’m not going to make the same mistakes next time. And that’s down to you.”
“Well, that’s great, Jackson. That’s wonderful.” Emilia tried to smile. “But it’s too late. I can’t afford to stay open. Not now. Look at it. It’s completely ruined. It’s going to cost a fortune to fix the damage.” They both looked at the carnage.
“I’ve got a suggestion.”
Emilia rolled her eyes. He wasn’t getting the hint.
“Thank you for your interest, Jackson, but can you please just leave me alone? I’m not in any mood to listen. This has all been hugely stressful and you needn’t think I’m happy about my decision.” She was starting to get upset. “I mean, I was brought up here. My dad used to put my pram in that corner there—”
“Just give me one minute, will you?” Jackson cut her off midsentence.
The two of them stared at each other. Emilia sighed. “One minute.”
“I’ve looked at the plans for the glove factory,” Jackson told her. “I’ve looked at the car park and measured it out. If you knock down that flat-roofed extension at the back, where the office is, and sell Mendip a third of the car park, it gives him the parking space he needs for four more units, which will make him an extra two hundred grand.”
“Two hundred grand?” Emilia’s eyebrows went up.
Jackson nodded. “So he could afford to give you half that.”
Emilia took in what he’d said. “A hundred grand? For a bit of car park?”
“I know you’ll lose the office area, but I don’t think that’s a problem, because you could put it down in the cellars. They’d probably need a bit of work, but as long as they’re solid and dry . . .”
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