Summer at Conwenna Cove

by Darcie Boleyn

  Eve closed her mouth. ‘Oh! Yes … I was just …’

  ‘They’re getting along very well, you mark my words,’ Irene said, then tapped the side of her nose, leaving a toast crumb there. ‘Be a wedding there soon, I shouldn’t wonder.’

  ‘Really?’ Eve tried not to stare at the crumb, wondering if she should tell Irene about it.

  Irene nodded, then jumped out of her chair and began frantically swiping at her skirt. ‘That damned cat!’

  Eve leaned forward to look under the table and found one of her aunt’s cats staring up at her. It lifted a paw and licked it, then began cleaning its face as if it had no idea what it had done wrong.

  Irene screamed and got up onto her chair.

  ‘What is it? What’s wrong, Irene?’ Eve tried not to stare at Irene’s ankles, where flesh-coloured pop socks sagged above her brown moccasin slippers.

  ‘There!’ Irene pointed wildly at the floor. ‘And there!’ The chair wobbled precariously and Eve didn’t know whether to try to hold on to Irene or look for the source of her terror.

  She jumped as something skittered across her own slipper and she saw a small creature disappear into the living room. ‘What was that?’

  ‘It’s bloody Tulip!’ Irene shouted as she wobbled, her arms flailing as she tried to maintain her balance. ‘She keeps dropping mice on my lap. Thinks it’s funny, the little minx.’

  Eve grabbed Irene’s hand to steady her, and as their fingers met, she had to bite her lip to stifle a giggle. Poor Irene and naughty, naughty Tulip. The cat probably thought it was being kind by giving Irene presents.

  ‘Come on, Irene, let’s get you down.’

  Eve helped the older woman into her seat. She’d only been up for half an hour and already the day was showing signs of offering plenty to distract her and help keep her mind off her own problems.

  And what about Aunt Mary? It seemed like she had a rather important distraction of her own.

  * * *

  Jack stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his middle. He’d been awake since dawn but had stayed in bed until eight to see if he could drop off again. It hadn’t worked, so he’d got up and gone for a run instead. Sometimes he had to force himself to run because the discomfort in his leg could be almost unbearable, but when his mind was so busy and conflicted, bodily pain was a welcome relief. Besides, he knew he had to keep pushing himself physically and mentally or he’d go under, and he wasn’t about to allow that to happen again. Exercise was good for him, whether it caused him discomfort or not.

  Then there was his other form of self-medication.

  Last night, he’d been compelled to go straight out to the shed after he’d returned from Mary’s. Something was burning in him and he had to deal with it immediately. It was Eve’s fault; he just couldn’t get her out of his head. He wanted to go back out there now to continue what he’d started, but it would have to wait. Mary had invited him around for lunch and he wanted to finish the raised beds so she could plant her seedlings.

  He grabbed another towel off the rail and dried his head and neck, enjoying the rough sensation of the line-dried material against his scalp.

  What was that?

  He thought he’d heard a noise downstairs.

  And again?

  He dropped the extra towel and opened the bathroom door slowly, then crept onto the landing, avoiding the creaky boards. Someone was in his cottage. Chances were that it was just Mary; she often popped round to leave him cakes or to drop off ironing that she’d sneakily taken from his pile of clothes. He could do his own ironing perfectly well but Mary seemed to like taking care of him and he quite liked being taken care of. But he always did as much as he could to show her how grateful he was, whether it was running errands or helping her out in the garden.

  Mary had helped him to get his part-time position at the dog rescue sanctuary. He’d been in need of something to do to fill his days, to feel useful again, and she had suggested that he volunteer up at the farm for a while. A few weeks there had led to an offer of employment, and though it didn’t pay much, combined with his pension from the marines it covered his small outgoings and gave him a purpose. Being around the dogs was therapeutic, and he knew that they’d helped him to move on and deal with some of his issues. People he’d encountered during his time at the sanctuary often said that the hounds helped them as much as they helped the hounds, and he had to agree. Counselling following his injury had been beneficial, but day-to-day life could still be difficult after what he’d been through. Animals were great healers, especially the hounds with their gentle, funny natures and their simple needs. Just this week, a new hound had arrived at the farm, a big black beauty they’d named Gabe. He was an ex-racer, straight from the track, but despite his size, he was one of the gentlest dogs Jack had ever come across. And he’d already won a special place in Jack’s heart.

  Something rattled in the kitchen, so Jack hurried down the stairs. It was unlikely to be an intruder, but Mary usually called out a greeting and he hadn’t heard one. It could be one of her cats, of course, or even a fox. Sometimes they were drawn down from the fields by the smell of food. He really didn’t fancy finding one going through his bin, though, because the clean-up operation afterwards was never pleasant.

  He pushed the kitchen door wide and braced himself, fists ready, legs apart.

  ‘Oh!’ Eve gasped when she saw him.

  ‘Oh!’ Jack scowled, shock and confusion rushing through him, carried on adrenalin. ‘What on earth are you doing?’

  ‘My aunt asked me to find a large saucepan that she thinks is here from when you made mulled wine at Christmas apparently … and … uh …’ Her eyes flickered up and down Jack’s body and he pushed his shoulders back instinctively, suddenly conscious of the fact that he was still dripping from the shower and clad in just a towel.

  ‘Did you find it?’

  ‘No, I …’ Her cheeks turned bright pink under his gaze and he strode across the kitchen towards her. She turned her head slightly as if to avert her gaze. ‘Jack!’

  ‘What?’ He reached around her and opened a cupboard.

  ‘It’s your … uh … your thing.’ She covered her eyes and gestured in his direction.

  ‘My thing?’ What on earth was she talking about? ‘Here you are.’ He held the large saucepan out and Eve took it blindly.

  ‘There!’ She peered from between her fingers and pointed towards his front. He looked down, and sure enough, his manhood was on display where his towel had gaped open.

  ‘Shit!’ He opened the towel and pulled the ends forwards to better wrap it around himself, but Eve gasped again and he realized that she had uncovered her eyes and just got a full-frontal flash. He froze with his hands in the air, towel midway to being wrapped back in place – the reality of what was happening too ridiculous to actually be happening – and heard a giggle.

  ‘Well I never!’ It was Mary, standing at his back door, watching him with a hand on her chest.

  He quickly covered himself and met the laughing eyes of his landlady.

  ‘I had hoped that you two would get on, but I didn’t expect you to become this friendly so quickly.’ Mary took the saucepan from Eve. ‘I think I’d better leave you to it. Dinner’s at one!’

  ‘Mary! It’s not how it looks,’ Jack said, aware that it looked really bad.

  ‘Oh I’m sure it’s not, dear. Nothing ever is. Have fun!’ Mary left the kitchen still laughing and Jack stood in the middle of the room, the water from his shower drying rapidly on his skin.

  ‘I’d better go.’ Eve shuffled past him, head down, cheeks glowing, and went to the door. ‘Sorry about that.’

  ‘Which bit? Sneaking into my house or seeing my thing?’ A smile played on Jack’s lips at how awkward the situation was. He’d never been shy about his body; living with other marines 24/7 didn’t leave you a lot of time to worry about who saw your crown jewels, but this was different. He’d just flashed two women he really didn’t want to
offend. ‘You could have let me know you were in here, Eve. Might have spared us both a rather … embarrassing moment.’

  ‘I heard water running and I didn’t want to disturb you. I could hardly come upstairs when you were showering, could I? Besides, Aunt Mary told me to just let myself in and find the saucepan. She thought she knew where it would be, but I don’t know my way around your kitchen so I couldn’t find it.’

  Jack shrugged. ‘I guess not. But I bet you weren’t expecting that little show, were you?’

  ‘Oh I wouldn’t call it little!’ Eve quipped, her green eyes flashing, then she dashed out the back door before Jack had a chance to reply.

  Chapter 8

  Eve carefully lifted the deep tray out of the oven and placed it on top of the Aga, then used a large spoon to baste the roast potatoes. The oil in the pan sizzled as she turned the potatoes to ensure they were evenly browned. She was about to put them back in the oven when Aunt Mary placed a hand on her arm.

  ‘Not yet!’

  ‘No?’

  Mary shook her head. ‘Seasoning.’

  ‘But we seasoned them before they went into the oven.’

  ‘And now we’ll do it again,’ Mary said. ‘Extra flavour.’

  Eve watched as Mary ground peppercorns over the potatoes then sprinkled them generously with sea salt. ‘There you are. Give the tray a shake before you pop it back in.’

  Eve did as she was instructed then closed the oven door. ‘What’s next?’

  ‘The chicken is ready so I’ll let it rest for a while before carving. You can lay the table and drain the peas.’

  ‘Five settings?’ Eve asked.

  ‘No, dear. Just four.’

  ‘Oh.’ Eve chewed her lip. ‘I thought maybe Edward would join us for dinner.’

  Mary paused, a large wooden spoon in her hand. As she met Eve’s eyes, butter dripped off the spoon and into a bowl of carrots. ‘And why would you think that, Eve?’

  Eve shrugged. ‘Oooh … I don’t know. Just something Irene said.’

  Mary shook her head. ‘Don’t believe everything Irene says.’

  ‘I heard that!’ Irene plodded into the kitchen. ‘I might be going senile but I’m not deaf.’

  ‘Sorry, Irene,’ Mary said as she sprinkled parsley over the carrots. ‘I just meant that Eve shouldn’t always take what people round here say to heart. There’s a lot of joking goes on.’

  Irene nodded sagely. ‘It’s true. But Edward’s got a soft spot for you, Mary. You can’t deny it.’

  Mary brought the bowl of carrots to the table then took a knife from the block on the oak dresser and started to carve the chicken. Eve watched her, wondering if she’d say more, but after a few minutes had passed, she guessed that the conversation about Edward was over. For now …

  ‘You want me to do that, Mary?’ Jack strode into the kitchen and held out his hands.

  ‘Thanks, Jack.’ Mary gave him the fork and carving knife then gestured at the oven. ‘Roasties should be done now, Eve.’

  ‘Okay.’ Eve tore her eyes from Jack’s broad shoulders and crouched in front of the oven to remove the potatoes. As she lifted the heavy tray, the oil rushed to one end and lapped over the side, spilling onto her wrist. ‘Ouch!’ She dropped the tray onto the unit and inspected her arm.

  ‘What is it?’ Jack was at her side. ‘Let me see.’ He took her hand firmly and led her to the sink, then turned on the cold tap. ‘Put it under the flow.’

  Eve winced as icy water splashed over her throbbing flesh where a red patch was already beginning to bloom. The shape reminded her of a poppy.

  ‘Oh dear!’ Mary peered over her shoulder, her face etched with concern. ‘That must be stinging.’

  ‘It should be fine. Just a splash of oil but we caught it in time. Might be a bit red and sore, but no major burns,’ Jack said, his eyes glued to Eve’s wrist. She went to pull her arm back but he stopped her, holding her elbow in place so that the water continued to run over her. ‘Not yet.’

  ‘Okay.’ Eve held her breath. Jack was so close that their thighs were touching, and his fingers were cool on her skin. He was so calm and in control in the way he’d immediately brought her to the sink. He knew what to do and he did it in the blink of an eye. Instinctively.

  Eve released the breath then inhaled again, and as she did so, her nostrils were filled with Jack’s rousing male scent. It was uplifting, with notes of citrus and fresh rain combined with something deeper underneath, a scent that stirred her in places she’d long since believed numb. Butterflies leapt into life in her stomach and heat coursed through her body.

  ‘That should do it.’ Jack gently released her elbow then handed her a clean towel. ‘If it starts stinging again, let me know and we’ll get it back under the water.’

  Eve nodded. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘No problem.’ Jack held her gaze for a moment too long with his chocolate-brown eyes that made her feel like melting into his arms, then returned to the chicken.

  ‘I told you I’m no good at this domestic stuff,’ Eve said to Mary.

  ‘Nonsense, dear. You just need some practice. And perhaps fewer distractions.’ Mary glanced at Jack then winked at Eve.

  Dinner was delicious and Eve had to discreetly undo the top button of her jeans afterwards. She’d even accepted a bowl of ice cream and Swiss roll, but now she was regretting eating it all as her belly was fit to burst.

  ‘After all that, I need a nap,’ Irene said.

  ‘I don’t blame you,’ Mary replied. ‘You youngsters all right to do the dishes? I’ll settle Irene, then I need to pop down to the village.’

  ‘What, to take that extra dinner you put out to Edward?’ Irene chuckled.

  Mary shook her head, but as she followed Irene from the room, Eve saw that she was smiling.

  ‘You want to wash or dry?’ Jack asked.

  ‘Wash.’ Eve pulled on rubber gloves and winced as the material touched her burn.

  ‘How’s your wrist?’

  ‘It’s okay. A bit sensitive, but thanks to your quick thinking it’s much better than it would have been.’ She filled the sink with fresh water and squirted in some washing-up liquid.

  ‘So, Eve. Uh … is there no one waiting back in Bristol for you?’

  ‘What, apart from the sixteen hundred pupils on roll?’ She shuddered at the thought.

  ‘No. I meant … you know …’

  ‘A man?’

  He nodded as he took a glass from her and dried it with a tea towel.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Oh. I thought there might have been.’

  ‘There was … I was married. I mean, I am married, legally, but not for much longer.’

  ‘What happened?’

  Eve stared through the kitchen window at the pretty garden. A tiny bird hopped along the luscious grass then up onto the wooden edge of one of the raised beds, where it glanced around rapidly, checking for predators and competition before raiding the soil for worms.

  ‘It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it. I didn’t mean to pry. I’m just surprised that there’s no Mr Carpenter.’

  ‘Well there is … but we’re separated. Have been for a while.’

  ‘My marriage ended too.’

  ‘Sorry.’

  ‘It’s not your fault.’

  ‘How long were you married?’ The question slipped out before Eve could stop it. But what was the etiquette when discussing ex-spouses with your aunt’s tenant, the man who had already – on two separate occasions – come to her rescue.

  Jack took a deep breath then let it out slowly. ‘Just over two years. She thought it would be glamorous being married to a marine. Instead she found out it was lonely when I was away so often and for such long periods of time, and even more distressing when her husband was injured in the line of duty.’ Eve watched his face carefully. Tension made his lips pale as he pressed them together and she felt she should share too, now that he was opening up.

  ‘Darryl and I split up la
st December.’

  ‘Quite recently, then?’

  Eve nodded. ‘We weren’t really happy for some time though.’

  ‘Sadly that’s the way it can go.’

  ‘It was just before Christmas.’

  ‘Ouch!’

  ‘The worst time of year …’

  ‘To be alone.’

  Eve handed him the final plate, then emptied the sink. During their conversation she hadn’t even noticed that she’d washed everything. She peeled the rubber gloves off and draped them over the cupboard door directly beneath the sink.

  ‘Do you miss her? Your wife?’

  ‘Ex-wife now. She asked for a divorce after she told me she was in love with someone else.’

  ‘Oh no.’ Eve laid a hand on his arm.

  He took her hand and turned it over, then ran a finger over the red mark on her wrist where the fat had splashed. A shiver ran up Eve’s spine and goose bumps rose on her arms. What was it with this man? The slightest touch from him could cause the most dramatic reaction in her.

  ‘He was her childhood sweetheart, the man she’d always loved. I was just a diversion; someone to make her feel better when they split up. But we married quickly because I was on leave and I thought she was gorgeous and funny and I never knew if I’d come back from Afghanistan. We lost so many out there and I just wanted a chance at happiness. For Jodie, it was a mistake and I believe she knew it the moment we stepped out of the registry office. Maybe even before that.’

  Eve gazed into his eyes and saw residual pain there but also integrity and warmth. He was guarded, his initial reaction to her had shown her that, but she could tell that he had a lot to offer. How sad then that he should have been hurt.

  ‘Jodie was younger than me. Ten years younger. It would never have worked and I was a fool to think it could. Not because of the age difference but because we were too different and because she’d always been in love with another man. In answer to your question about missing her … I miss what I thought we could have had. But not actually her, I guess. She was the perfect woman but it was all surface, an act she put on for me like she put on her blonde hair extensions, fake tan and make-up.’ He stopped stroking Eve’s wrist but kept hold of her. ‘Do you miss Darryl?’