I blush under his gaze; for some inexplicable reason, I’m pleased he’s remembered my name. “There isn’t much to tell.”
He grins. “Now, that can’t be true; the other night Joe said something about you running away?” he prompts. “There’s got to be a story there.”
“I didn’t ‘run away’,” I mutter, using air quotes. “I just-”
“You just…?” Glenn encourages.
I take a sip of my drink; how do I explain this without the whole sorry story coming out? And, do I even want it to come out, considering I barely know this guy? “I had the opportunity to go down to London a few years ago,” I begin, sticking to the bare bones. “A friend from university told me he was starting his own business and needed some help so-”
“You jumped at the chance?”
I smile weakly. “I needed to get away and this came along at just the right time. I just hadn’t realised the amount of debt he’d gotten himself into; he went bankrupt about a year later.”
“Geez, that sucks,” Glenn murmurs, sipping his beer. “So why didn’t you come back home?”
I shift awkwardly in my chair. “I had some… family issues.”
Glenn nods knowingly. “Ah, I see.” He takes another sip of his drink. “Joe said something about you and Holly being partners?”
I nod. “Yeah, we are. We started the tearooms a few years ago; it had always been Holly’s dream and I was fresh out of uni, with a business degree, and needed a challenge. When she pitched it to me, I really liked the idea so we decided to give it a go. I wrote up a business plan, we got a loan and the rest, as they say, is history.” Seeing the weird look on Glenn’s face, I frown. “What?” I ask, a little defensively.
Glenn shakes his head. “Nothing; it’s just… I’m impressed.”
I scoff. “Yeah, well, don’t be. I’m really not that impressive.”
“Well, I have a feeling we’re just going to have to disagree on that one.”
I laugh. “And, why doesn’t that surprise me?” I pause, before asking, “Okay, then, Rhinestone-”
Glenn laughs. “You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”
I shake my head. “Nope. So, tell me: what brought you to Keldsthwaite?”
“A transfer,” he said simple. “I was working in Carlisle…”
At the mention of Carlisle, I feel a memory tug at my heart but force myself to refocus on Glenn.
“… But… I needed to get away,” he continues, “a job came up here and I jumped at it. I used to come to this area a lot when I was a kid,” he continues. “Me and my brother used to paddle in Ullswater; we camped at Pooley Bridge many a time.”
I smile. “Sounds like my childhood; I think I was about eight when my mum and Jackie took me, Sofia and Holly to the top of Aira Force.” I don’t mention that it was with much complaining (from the kids) and some snapping (from the parents). But we did get sweets and crisps at the top so it wasn’t all bad.
Glenn smiles. “Eight? Well that settles it, then: you really are an impressive woman, Jess. I wasn’t able to get to the top until I was at least twelve.”
“Twelve, eh?” I laugh. “Now, that’s impressive.”
“Hey, don’t blame me; I was a city boy,” Glenn says in his defense. “Strangely, we don’t have a lot of waterfalls in Carlisle.”
“You do surprise me,” I smile. “So, how long have you been here?”
“A year and a half,” he replies.
“Do you prefer it here?”
“Oh, yeah, hands down; I mean, don’t get me wrong, the pace is a lot slower but, you know, I need that, now, in my old age.”
I laugh. “Old age? You’re not that old!”
“Thanks… I think,” he mutters.
“No, come on, what are you? Thirty-eight?”
He raises his eyebrows. “Thirty-seven, thank you very much.” He touches his hair self-consciously. “Maybe I need to start dying my hair; the grey’s clearly betraying me.”
I slap his arm. “Shut up; you know you don’t have any grey hairs.”
“That’s true; I do,” he agrees. “So, how are you enjoying being back?”
I shrug, unwilling to reveal my true feelings. Keep it simple. “It’s tough seeing Holly like this,” I admit and Glenn nods in agreement. “But it’s good to be back, I guess,” I continue, realising that I do actually mean it; things may still be a little distant with Dad but that’s to be expected, isn’t it? And, I am on the path to, hopefully, fixing things on that front.
“Penny for them,” Glenn’s gentle voice breaks through my thoughts.
I shake my head, bringing my gaze to meet his. “Sorry?”
“You went into your own head, for a second, there,” he observed. “Anything you want to talk about?”
I shake my head. “No, not really.”
Glenn watches me for a moment and I wonder if he’s going to push me further; I feel myself getting ready to retreat. But, thankfully, he says nothing and I realise this is what I like about him; he knows when to back off. Holding my gaze, he says, “So, Jess, I was wondering: I have Saturday off and I was going to go to the Christmas Switch-on-”
Uh-oh, is he asking me out? Surprisingly, the thought both pleases and scares me.
He stops speaking as Sofia appears at out table, a knowing smile on her face. “So… how are things going over here?” she asks, looking expectantly between us.
I glare at her, aware of what’s going on in her mind; she, no doubt, thinks I’ve fallen for Glenn’s charms. “We’re fine, thanks,” I reply curtly.
Sofia’s grin widens as she reaches for my empty glass. “In that case, can I get you both another?”
“Yeah, that’d be great,” Glenn says, looking at me expectantly. “Jess?”
“Actually, I better not,” I say, a little reluctantly.
“Oh, okay,” Glenn says, his disappointment evident.
“Sorry,” I mutter, getting to my feet. “I just… I have stuff to do.”
“Yeah, sure, no worries,” Glenn says. “I’ll see you around; probably pop in the tearooms for a coffee.” I can hear the hope in his voice; I get the feeling he’s testing the waters.
I smile. “Yeah, you do that,” I say and realise how much I mean it. That, itself, terrifies me and I mutter something about needing to be off and head for the door, Sofia hot on my heels.
“Are you kidding me?” she hisses, tugging on my arm as we step into the night. “You have a gorgeous guy in there, flirting with you and wanting to get to know you, and what do you do? You run away!” She runs a hand through her hair. “Are you crazy?”
I shrug. “Maybe,” I agree. “I’m sorry, Sofe; I really do have to go.”
“Jess-” She tries to stop me but I’m off before she can, running away like a coward. “This isn’t over!” she calls after me as I run into the night, back to the safety of my one-bedroom flat.
Chapter 12
I’m not proud of myself, I assure you.
My behaviour last night was, not only rude, but also embarrassing for all concerned. I’ve been up all night, going over, and over, what happened and where it had all gone wrong. Actually, that’s not true; I know, exactly, where it went wrong: the moment it had looked like Glenn was going to ask me out.
I don’t know if I’m reading way too much into this. I mean, he could have just been asking me to go with him to the Switch-on as a friend… or he might not have been asking me to go with him at all.
Urgh! I hate this dance! I’ve never been very good at it, which is why I don’t have a long list of guys in my past. There’s just so much pressure; it just seems like a lot of hard work to get to where my parents were and, then, you lose that person and nothing’s the same again; I’ve known the pain my father’s felt, every day, since mum passed away and I’ve just never found anyone that’s made me think all that hard work, and pain, is worth it.
My phone rings, yet again (it’s been ringing most of the morning), and I groan as Sofia’s name
flashes across the screen; she’s been like a dog with a bone. I know she wants to find out why I ran, probably tell me how stupid I was and how I’m letting a good thing slip through my fingers…
Maybe that’s true; Glenn does seem like a good guy but how do I justify getting involved with him, only to leave after Christmas? It wouldn’t be fair: on him or me. Not that I’m saying we’d be a sure thing but… you never know. A long distance relationship is definitely not what I want.
My phone beeps and I see I have a message from Holly waiting for me.
Oh, great; now she’s roped Holly into my mess!
I pick up the phone from the arm of the chair, unlock it and open Holly’s message.
Sofia told me what happened. Are you OK? Xx
I smile; trust Holly to be concerned about me, despite the crap she’s going through herself. Tapping the screen, I type out:
Yeah, just freaked out a little I guess xx
After a moment, the three dots begin to pulsate in the bottom corner of the screen and I feel better, knowing Holly’s there. I sigh, resting my head against the back of the chair. I can’t help wondering how Glenn’s feeling this morning; would he be embarrassed? Angry? He doesn’t seem like the type of guy to let things get to him for too long but, then again, I bet he’s never had someone run out on him before - unless that person was resisting arrest, of course.
What must he think of me?
I practically jump as my phone beeps again and, snatching it up, I open Holly’s message.
Do you want to talk about it? xx
I stare at the screen, the question spinning around in my head. Do I want to talk about it? I mean, what is there to say?
I’m not sure there’s much to say. I’m going back to London in a few weeks… nothing can happen xx
A few moments later, Holly’s reply comes back to me.
Have you told him this? Xx
I narrow my eyes at the screen and send Holly my best glare telepathically. Trust her to be the grown up in this; why couldn’t she just let me hide away and not deal with this?
No xx
Maybe you should xx
I stare at the screen, trying to form an argument in my defense (I know there isn’t one, by the way; I know, full well, that I have to get over myself and talk to him… but it doesn’t mean I find the idea easy…). My phone beeps again and I open Holly’s next message.
Talk to him, Jess. Glenn’s a good guy. He’ll understand xx
I stare at the message for a moment, my mind churning, before typing my response.
Yeah… you’re right. I will talk to him, but later. I have lunch with Dad today don’t forget xx
There’s no response… and I wonder if Holly’s been called away; maybe one of the kids needs her…
And then my phone rings, Holly’s name flashing on the screen; I immediately pick it up. “Hi.”
“Are you all sorted?” comes Holly’s efficient voice down the phone.
I smile, recognizing the tone; it’s her work mode, the one she uses when she’s focusing on a problem or a new recipe. “Yeah; I picked up everything from Penrith yesterday,” I remind her.
“That’s good,” she mutters. “Jess, just remember: don’t expect too much.”
I laugh, trying to hide my disappointment at her warning. “Holly, my cooking’s not that good; it’s not a cure-all.”
She chuckles. “You know what I mean.”
Unfortunately, I do know what she means; I think I’m still hoping for an emotional reunion between us even though I know, full well, there’s not much chance of that happening. “Are you sure you can manage in the shop today?” I ask, shifting the focus away from my childish hopes.
“I told you yesterday; I’ll be fine,” she insists. “Have you forgotten I’ve been managing quite well these past three years?”
I feel a pang of guilt; yes, Holly may have been the one to encourage me to get away from everything that was happening here, but that still doesn’t mean I’ve been able to ignore the feeling that I’d dropped her in it by leaving. “Yeah, I know but that was before-” I stop myself before I can say “before Mike” but she hears the unspoken words, regardless.
“Jess, I’ll be fine; Amy’s coming to help,” she explains.
“What about Josh?” I ask.
“He’s seeing Jake; they’re having some kind of FIFA tournament day or something.”
“Right,” I murmur, glad he’s got something to take his mind off his current situation. “Well, I better go; I have to start getting ready. I said I’d be there about twelve.” I glance at my watch, well aware that’s still three hours away.
“Yeah; Amy and I need to be heading off soon, too,” Holly says. “She’s so excited to be helping out again.”
I smile, hearing the happiness in Holly’s voice; it’s good that things are starting to feel slightly more normal again. “That’s great; you won’t be needing me, at all, soon,” I joke, feeling disappointment surge through me.
“That’s not true and you know it,” Holly says quietly. “Good luck today; let me know how it goes,” she adds.
We say our goodbyes and I end the call before heading into the bathroom to get ready.
Chapter 13
You’d think choosing an outfit for Sunday lunch with your dad would be a doddle; I can tell you now that it’s not. Standing in my tiny bedroom, my suitcases flung open with clothes strewn across the bed, I can’t seem to settle on anything. I mean, I haven’t seen the man in three years; I want to make a good impression, don’t I?
But, it seems, the only clothes I brought with me are jeans, jogging bottoms and hoodies. In my defence though, winter in the Lake District is hardly suitable for anything less than ‘practical’; that’s part of the charm of this place. When I’m here, I don’t need to worry about what I look like because all anyone is interested in is keeping warm!
Finally: decision made, I leave my bedroom and start gathering the food I bought yesterday, my nerves increasing. I think I’ve cooked for my dad a grand total of… once. And that was a disaster: I was supposed to be making toad in the hole but instead of producing a golden, well-risen, Yorkshire pudding, all I managed to do was incinerate it and set off the smoke alarm. He was not happy, I can tell you. I only hope today goes better than that.
I leave the house a little while later, giving myself plenty of time to walk the short distance to Dad’s house; I could have taken my car but it seems a bit pointless when I’m perfectly capable of carrying a few bags half a mile or so. Besides which, I really need to clear my head and the cold air will do just that.
Dad still lives in my childhood home on the outskirts of Keldsthwaite, right on the edge of Ullswater; the garden leads down towards the lake and the views across the water are magnificent. I smile, recalling the many times me, Mum and Dad had sat out there in the summer, watching the sun set over the water… These are some of my best memories.
I glance up at the Christmas tree as I pass the green; Mum would have loved it this year – Christmas always was her favourite time of year and the Christmas Light Switch-on was one of the most anticipated events in her calendar, marking the beginning of the season. It’s been five years and I still can’t believe she won’t be here to see it…
Wiping away a tear, I force myself to focus on the path ahead; the last thing I want is to turn up at Dad’s on the verge of tears. No, I have to be strong; I have to show him that we can move on and, more than that, that it’s okay to do so. I’m not sure, but I get the feeling he thinks it’s a betrayal of Mum’s memory to allow himself to let her go.
I pause as Dad’s house comes into view; the garden’s looking a little unkempt and bare, unusual because, even in the winter, Dad always made a point of getting out there to mow the lawn, weed the borders and do whatever else he deemed necessary. Approaching the gate, I’m struck by a picture so vivid, I almost believe it’s real: Dad bent over in the garden, digging up weeds, while Mum brings him a cup of tea and a few cu
stard creams…
I swallow the lump in my throat as I push the gate open, allowing it to swing shut behind me, my teeth on edge at the screech of the hinges. Walking towards the door, I panic: do I knock or let myself in (I have my old key in my pocket)? Would he even want me barging into his house after three years?
Probably not.
Placing my bags down on the step, I ring the doorbell and step back as I wait for him to answer. I don’t know why but, suddenly, I’m more nervous than I’ve ever been in my entire life; in just a few short minutes I’ll be face-to-face with my dad. And, right now, that’s a scary thought.
I hear footsteps…
He’s coming!
I fight the urge to run as his outline appears in the frosted window next to the door; instead, I pick up my bags so that I’m using up some of this nervous energy that is beginning to overwhelm me. Holding the handles of the bags in a death grip, I plaster on the brightest smile I can muster (I probably look manic but, right now, I couldn’t care less).
“Who is it?” Dad’s voice drifts out to me.
My shoulders slump as I imagine him waiting on the other side of the door, waiting for my answer. “It’s me, Dad,” I reply, rolling my eyes. “Who else would it be?” I retort before I can stop myself.
I hear the rattle of the chain and my heart sinks; is he really that bad that he literally wants to lock himself away from the rest of the world?
Eventually, the door opens and Thomas Harrison appears; he still cuts a tall, and imposing, figure and, I have no doubt, could still inject fear into the toughest of men with only a look just as he had, in the courtroom, before taking early retirement to nurse Mum. His blonde hair, now peppered with white, is receding and doesn’t look like it’s been cut in a while; his dark blue shirt is crumpled (as are his trousers) and he’s wearing a knitted red cardigan (what is it with people and cardigans, all of a sudden?). Greying stubble shadows his jaw and neck.
All I Want For Christmas (A Sweet, Contemporary Romance) (Romance In The Lakes Book 1) Page 6