He picked up the saw again and started the rhythmic movement along the pencil line he’d drawn. Soon the wood gave beneath the metal blade and he lifted the plank and blew off the loose sawdust to inspect his handiwork.
‘There you are!’
He turned to find Mary smiling as she walked up the garden. When she reached him, she proffered a small circular tray and he took a glass of cloudy home-made lemonade.
‘Thank you.’ He swallowed the refreshing citrus drink in two gulps. The ice cubes clinked together as he returned the glass to the tray.
‘It’s looking good. You’ve been busy this morning.’ Mary placed the tray on the ground then settled her hands on her hips as she surveyed the woodpile. She reminded him of an ageing Tinker Bell, tiny yet tenacious. Something about her just sparkled and he wouldn’t have been surprised to see a pair of gossamer wings fluttering on her back. ‘How long do you think it will take to get the beds finished?’
‘Not long. Two to three days as long as the weather stays fine.’
‘Fantastic. Perhaps you can collect some more manure from the farm. The composters are full too, so help yourself when you’re ready.’
Jack nodded.
‘The seedlings will be in early next week at the grocer’s.’
Jack smiled. The small greengrocer stocked everything from fruit and veg to eggs to plants. It was a family-run business and a warm, friendly place to shop.
Mary looked at her watch. ‘I do hope Eve won’t be long. I’m quite worried about her driving all that way after what she’s been through, yet she insisted that she didn’t want to take the train. Said she couldn’t cope with being around lots of other people right now.’
Jack fought the urge to shake his head. He’d learnt about Mary’s niece gradually over the six months of his stay, as Mary had told him various things about Eve, and he wasn’t particularly impressed. What kind of woman was so wrapped up in her job that she failed to visit her aunt? Not just failed to visit but rarely telephoned her, choosing instead to send the odd brief text message. From what he’d seen of Mary, she was kind and caring, selfless in fact, and he knew that if she hadn’t had so many commitments she’d have gone to visit Eve in Bristol. Although, if he was honest, he’d pieced together things that Mary had said, and gathered that she didn’t know if she’d be welcome there. It was as if she worried that she wasn’t good enough for her niece with the high-profile teaching career. So although Mary professed to be too busy and too needed in Conwenna, Jack believed that Eve’s apparent stuck-up attitude probably had more to do with her reluctance than she was letting on. It grated on him even more because, being the lone child of a single mother who’d passed away when he was eighteen, he didn’t have anyone. He’d have loved an aunt like Mary, a family of his own.
‘You will join us for lunch, won’t you, Jack?’
He paused, then dusted off his old jeans, keen to buy himself some time.
‘I can’t, sorry. I’ve uh … got to head up to the farm. I promised Neil I’d help out with that broken fence on the manège. It needs fixing asap or there’ll be greyhounds running off everywhere.’ He grinned at the image of dogs escaping from the woodchip-covered space that had been built to exercise them safely. Once those dogs had the chance to run, they were like the wind.
‘Well I’ll put some aside for you then,’ Mary said. ‘It’s vegetable soup and my special cheese bread.’
Jack’s mouth watered. Mary knew he had a weakness for her cheese bread, her soup, her lasagne, her cakes … just about everything she ever made. ‘That would be great, thanks.’
Mary tilted her head and Jack paused. She’d heard something. Sure enough, he could make out the sound of tyres crunching over the gravel road that led to the cottages. His stomach lurched at the joy in her expression; he was concerned about her, fearful that she might get hurt.
Eve Carpenter had better not cause any pain to the kindly woman who’d taken him in and treated him as if he were a member of her family, or she’d have him to deal with.
He was already annoyed with her and she hadn’t even arrived yet.
Chapter 3
Eve smiled as she slowly manoeuvred her car along the winding gravel road that led to her aunt’s home. It was surrounded by a variety of trees that gave the feeling of being hidden away from the rest of the world. It could be in the middle of nowhere rather than just above a Cornish village. The trees created a sense of timelessness and of privacy, as did the dappled light that squeezed through the branches to the ground below, highlighting some areas and plunging others into shade.
She still had the window open and she savoured the air that rushed into the car. It was cool and fragrant, carrying the earthy scents of flora and fauna and the delicate scent of the hundreds of thousands of bluebells that carpeted the ground as far as she could see. Some were dark blue, young and fresh, while others were paler, as if faded with age.
Finally she drove into a clearing and pulled up in front of the two pretty cottages that Mary owned. Her heart squeezed. Here she was, at her aunt’s home, years since her last visit, but it still looked exactly as she remembered it. The sturdy whitewashed building that made up Bluebell Cottages dated back three hundred years. Once a single long cottage, it had been divided into two when a previous owner had blocked up the doors that joined one half to the other. The small-paned windows were set back in the thick stone walls, their woodwork painted forget-me-not blue to match the latticed frames that arched over the blue front doors. The green foliage that climbed around the doorways was already showing some fuchsia rosebuds and promising beautifully scented flowers in the coming months. It added to the picture-perfect image and Eve was overwhelmed with an unfamiliar emotion as she gazed at the cottages.
Then she realized what it was.
Happiness.
Or at least the hope of happiness.
The hope that there might be something more to life than the turmoil and doubt that she’d been experiencing; that there was life beyond loss, and life beyond her complete involvement in her career. She’d never thought that she would consider her dedication to her career a flaw, but over recent months she’d been aware of doubts creeping in, even though she’d tried so hard to suppress them.
She opened the car door and stepped out, then walked to the start of the small footpath that led down to the edge of the property and offered a fabulous view of the village below. Her aunt had told her she’d had the path cleared years ago because although she liked the privacy of the trees, she also wanted to be able to enjoy the view of Conwenna Cove. Eve could see why, as she gazed at the pretty fishing village that spread out below, with its higgledy-piggledy pastel cottages and the busy harbour where a variety of boats were anchored, their small windows glinting in the afternoon sun.
She sucked in the fresh salty air as she watched the white breakers out at sea and felt an overwhelming urge to get out there to swim. It was a positive move coming here; she would be able to spend some time in Conwenna Cove and have a chance to work through her feelings, daunting as that prospect was.
‘What better place to heal, dear?’
Eve jumped and turned to find her aunt smiling at her from the doorway of the closer cottage. She was wiping her hands on a lilac apron that was tied around her waist. Eve’s vision blurred as she walked into Aunt Mary’s ready embrace. She had to lean over slightly to place her chin on Mary’s shoulder, but then her aunt was only five foot tall, making even Eve’s five foot four seem statuesque. Growing up, Eve had never thought of Mary as small, recalling her as a presence to fill any room, but as she’d got older, she’d realized that Mary’s personality was so big, so warm, friendly and confident, that it made up for what she lacked in actual height.
‘You know, Eve, they say Conwenna Cove has mystical healing properties. People have been coming here for centuries to rest, relax and recuperate. I’m not sure that I believe the magic bit but I certainly believe that resting in a beautiful location near the ocean ca
n help you to recover from an ordeal. And goodness me, don’t you need it; you’re a bag of bones.’
She held Eve at arm’s length and shook her head. ‘When did it get so bad you forgot to eat?’
Eve swallowed hard and tried to find the right words but she was at a loss, suddenly feeling like a child in need of comfort and security and as if she might burst into tears at any moment.
‘Come on then! Let’s get your things inside and I’ll make us a nice cup of tea. Seems like we’ve a lot to catch up on. I’ll pop the kettle on while you get sorted.’
As Aunt Mary walked away, Eve knew that she’d given her the chance to compose herself and she was grateful. She opened the boot and pulled out her suitcase and holdall. She placed them next to the driver’s-side door and reached in for her oversized handbag – her very expensive designer handbag that she’d bought on a whim just weeks ago. As she slipped her arm through the handles, she felt how empty it was. A metaphor for my life. She looked the part but inside she was empty: no love, no fulfilment and no one to cuddle up with at night. The fashionable bag had seemed at home in Bristol, but outside her aunt’s quaint cottage, surrounded by trees and birdsong, where if you listened carefully the sound of the waves was just audible, it seemed completely incongruous.
A bit like Eve herself.
She turned quickly to grab her suitcase and holdall, keen to get inside before her thoughts became too maudlin, and stumbled into a large body. She bounced off the hard chest and slammed against her car door before finding her balance.
‘Ouch!’
Was that a snigger?
She looked up to find a tall, broad man in front of her, evaluating her with intense dark eyes. She did a quick appraisal in return and estimated him to be about six foot tall and around seventeen stone. He was huge.
‘Sorry about that. I thought you’d heard me. Mary sent me out to help.’ He paused for a moment but Eve was struck dumb after bumping into the wall of muscle. The man shook his head as if he’d just encountered a complete idiot, then walked off with her luggage and into Mary’s house.
Eve rubbed her forehead and wondered if she’d have a bruise at the point of impact, then suppressed a flicker of annoyance, though she wasn’t sure if it was with herself or the stranger, as she traipsed after him into the cottage. She didn’t recognize him, didn’t know who he was to Mary, and had no right to make an instant judgement about him based on a ten-second encounter. But she couldn’t help recalling the mirth in his eyes, and wondering why he’d limped slightly, as if favouring some old injury.
* * *
Eve entered the cool hallway of the cottage and paused as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. She could smell lavender, lemon and clean washing. The scents of a home that was lived in. She took in the small table with the old telephone, just as she’d imagined it, and brushed her fingertips over the curly beige phone wire.
A memory surfaced, clear as day, of using the phone when she was about ten to call her parents. It was summer; she’d been wearing denim shorts and a frilly green vest top with strawberry ice cream splodges down the front. Her upper lip was salty from swimming in the sea and she was filled with childish excitement at the freedom she had when staying with her aunt. There were no set times for breakfast and dinner, no early bedtimes when she’d lie staring at the ceiling, listening to her parents entertaining in the room below, wishing sleep would claim her and help her forget about her loneliness.
When staying with Aunt Mary, she’d phoned her parents once a week as a courtesy, but every time she spoke to them they’d seemed uninterested, and she’d known even then that they didn’t miss her. They were glad to get her out of their hair so they could live their lives unhindered by worrying over babysitters or school runs. As Eve had spoken to her mother, she’d wound her fingers in the curly wire, round and round, until she’d been unable to free them. When the call had ended, she’d had to call for Mary, and her aunt had hurried to her side then laughed at the mess Eve was in.
Eve shook her head. Scents always conjured memories and she wondered how many more she’d experience here. Even though the one about being caught up in the wire wasn’t pleasant, what came afterwards was. Her aunt had packed them a picnic basket and they’d taken the three rescue dogs she’d had then along the path to the edge of the property, past the cottage that served as a vet’s surgery and down the steep, winding cliff path to the small private cove. They’d both stripped down to their costumes and raced into the water, splashing, laughing and screeching as the dogs raced around them. When they finally tired, they’d wrapped up in sandy blankets and enjoyed freshly baked bread, local creamy Cheddar and crunchy apples grown in Mary’s garden. They had been good days, the ones spent with Mary; Eve realized that they’d probably been the best days of her otherwise lonely childhood.
A noise from the rear of the house shook her from her reverie and she walked through the cosy lounge with its oak beams that had dried lavender and herb bouquets hanging from them, and its eclectic range of furniture – two of the sofas were taken up by cats and dogs who barely stirred as she passed them – into the open-plan kitchen-diner where Mary was standing at the Aga stirring a bubbling pot.
She placed her bag on a chair then approached her aunt. ‘That smells so good.’
‘Vegetable soup, dear, and there’s cheese bread too.’
Eve’s stomach growled in response and she laughed. ‘It must be the sea air.’
Mary nodded. ‘It’ll do you good to get your appetite back.’
‘I hope so. I didn’t mean to become … this thin.’
‘It’s not healthy. It might be fashionable but you’ve no reserves left to fight things off or to deal with what life brings. But I can understand, Eve. I’ve been there myself.’
‘You have?’ Eve eyed her aunt carefully, taking in her salt-and-pepper bobbed hair that she had worn tucked behind her ears for as long as Eve could remember. Of course, the last time she had seen Mary, her hair had been light brown, streaked with just a little grey, but that had been a long time ago.
Mary turned her hazel eyes to meet Eve’s. They twinkled in her pretty tanned face, surrounded by tiny white lines where the sun hadn’t penetrated. ‘I might be a bit on the curvy side now, but things change after the menopause, you know.’ She shook her head. ‘Of course you don’t know, you’ve years ahead of you before that happens. But let me tell you, Eve, I have gained a few pounds since it all started.’ She laughed. ‘Saved me a fortune in female products, though!’
Eve nodded slowly, slightly embarrassed by her aunt’s openness.
‘Anyway, I digress … When I was younger, a long time ago, I went through a difficult phase in my life and I lost a lot of weight. Stress and grief are bad for the mind and the body.’
Eve wanted to ask her aunt about what she’d been through but held back because she suspected that Mary would tell her more when she was ready. If she wanted to share, that was.
‘The dogs in the lounge are very chilled, aren’t they? Neither of them got up to check me out.’
Mary chuckled. ‘They’re both quite old. Harry is about nine. He was found wandering the lanes. He’s been here three years now and he’s so lazy! It’s as if once he found his couch, he swore never to move. The other one is Clio. She’s eleven and has been a bit poorly recently, so she rarely stirs except for food or a comfort trip to the garden, although I do try to get them out for a gentle walk at least once a day. I brought her down from the rescue sanctuary at the farm last year. Her owner was old and frail and had to go into a care home. It was very sad and it took her a while to adjust.’
‘Lucky for Clio that you were here. Don’t the cats bother the dogs, though? I thought all ex-racing dogs chased cats.’
Mary shook her head. ‘They’ve allowed the dogs to settle in. I won’t deny that at first there was some hissing and scratching, but they came to a mutual understanding. Basically, the cats are in charge.’
Eve nodded. ‘Aunt Mary … Who’
s the man that brought my bags in?’
As if on cue, she heard heavy footsteps thumping down the wooden stairs and into the hallway. A shadow fell across the kitchen floor, breaking up the warming sunbeams that streamed in through one of the large kitchen windows. Eve shivered.
‘This is Jack Adams,’ Mary said. ‘He lives next door. He’s my tenant.’
Eve looked at the large man and fought the urge to recoil under the intensity of his gaze. What was it with his eyes? She felt as if he could see deep into her mind and her heart and examine all the bad things she’d ever done. She pulled herself up to her full height, held out her hand and adopted her formal head-teacher voice. ‘Pleased to meet you, Jack. Properly, I mean. After bumping into you outside. I …’ She cleared her throat. ‘Was it you I spoke to on the phone?’
He scowled at her, his dark brows meeting above chocolate-brown eyes. Those eyes could have been so soft and gentle if only he didn’t appear to be so hostile towards her.
Eve waited, her hand outstretched, for what felt like hours, but it was in fact only seconds before he enveloped it in one of his. As their palms met she felt the calluses on his skin, and as his fingers wrapped around hers she was aware of the brute strength of his grip. He held her hand for a moment and her heart rate increased as an unexpected warmth spread through her, then he suddenly dropped it and she was left confused, and a bit embarrassed, although she wasn’t sure why.
‘Eve, could you set the table, please?’ Mary asked. ‘Jack, I know you said you had things to do, but will you stay and have a quick bite to eat?’
‘I have to get up to the farm,’ he replied quickly. Eve watched as he leant over and kissed Mary on the cheek. ‘But I’ll be home around five.’
‘I’ll keep it warm for you, dear.’
‘You’re an angel!’ He straightened up then strode out of the kitchen without giving Eve another glance. She was at once hurt and offended, as if this strange man with his bad manners should have shown her more courtesy. But then she didn’t know him and he didn’t know her. He was, apparently, her aunt’s tenant, though what Eve had experienced of him so far left a lot to be desired. Yet … She had caught the softening in his expression when he looked at Mary and heard how his voice changed as he spoke to her.
Summer at Conwenna Cove Page 3