by Alice Ross
Annie spotted Harriet and Jenny at a table at the far end of the room and was about to walk over to them when she froze. At the next table was a man. She could only see the back of his head but it was enough to know that it was Jake Sinclair – deep in conversation with her friends. Resentment rapidly elbowed aside an initial blast of panic. After listening to what seemed like every female in the village raving about him all day, there was evidently to be no escape this evening. Her one and only night out of the week and Jake Sinclair had ruined it before she’d even sat down. In fact, now she didn’t want to sit down. She wanted to turn around and run straight back home. Which, if she was quick, she might just get away with. She could slip outside, call Jenny on her mobile, and invent a little white lie – like she’d remembered she’d left a cake in the oven, or she’d been abducted by aliens, or –
‘Annie. Over here,’ called Jenny, waving furiously.
Too late. Annie’s stomach lurched at exactly the same moment Jake whipped round his head to her. Their gazes fused and Annie’s legs turned to cotton wool as she watched his mouth stretch into a smile, even more devastating set against the background of dark stubble. Lust roared through her as she imagined what the stubble would feel like against her skin as he –
A cackle of laughter from the group next to her broke her daydream. She attempted to pull herself together and consider how best to handle the situation. With her preferred choice of disappearing now past its sell by date, she had precisely … no other option. She’d have to brave it out. Which she could do. Of course she could. She’d handled much more difficult situations in her life. And hadn’t she resolved that very morning not to let Jake Sinclair affect her? Drawing in a deep breath, she averted her eyes from the man in question, and raised her hand to wave back to Jenny, accidentally slapping an old man in the face as she did so.
Annie’s hand flew to her mouth. ‘Oh, I’m so sorry,’ she gasped, every one of her other emotions swept aside by a tsunami of mortification.
Straightening his spectacles, the old man chuckled. ‘It’s all right, dear. I’ve had much worse from the wife.’ He gave her a reassuring pat on the arm before scuttling off.
Annie held her breath for a few seconds, not daring to look across the room. With a bit of luck, no one had seen. But luck of any proportion had evidently by-passed her. Everyone at the tables opposite was in hysterics, including Jake. Well, great start to the evening, Annie. Brilliant. There was only one thing to do now and that was to pretend to laugh it off. The last thing she felt like doing. She willed her legs to move across the room. They responded – albeit shakily.
‘Woops,’ she said, grimacing as she reached her destination. ‘Slight incident there.’
‘Beating up men again,’ chuckled Jenny. ‘They’re not all bad you know.’
‘Just ninety-nine point nine per cent of them,’ chipped in Harriet, whose bitterness was justified – and unwavering. Her husband had flitted off with his secretary ten years ago, leaving her with four young children to bring up.
‘Well, remind me not to upset you,’ said Jake, his dark eyes twinkling. ‘Looks like you’ve a mean left punch there.’
Annie opened her mouth hoping desperately that something clever and witty would spout forth. It didn’t.
‘You look lovely, Annie,’ remarked Harriet. ‘Is that a new dress?’
Annie tore her gaze away from Jake. ‘Um, no,’ she muttered, aware of a flush settling over her cheeks. ‘I’ve had it ages.’
‘It really suits you. You should wear it more often. But come on. Sit down and tell us the news. Did you get that order for the amazing wedding cake you were talking about last week?’
Relieved to be on slightly more neutral ground – and off her shaking legs – Annie slipped into the seat next to Harriet, which also happened to be directly opposite Jake. Hastily gathering her wits, she determined to act normally. Not only to prove to Jake that she was normal but, more importantly, to avoid arousing the suspicions of her friends. Portia’s teasing would be bad enough. Harriet and Jenny would be double the trouble. She drew in a deep breath and forced her lips into a smile. ‘I got the order,’ she confirmed.
‘Well done,’ they chimed.
‘Thanks,’ she muttered, wishing Jake wasn’t looking at her quite so intently. ‘It’s going to be a lot of work but I’m looking forward to starting it.’
‘I take it this is quite a prestigious order, then,’ he said.
Annie nodded. ‘It could be,’ she confirmed, addressing her reply to the table. ‘If I do a good job, it will hopefully lead to lots of new commissions.’
‘Sounds exciting,’ he said, still looking at her in that way that made her heart beat just a tad quicker. ‘How long have you had the shop?’
Annie lifted her head, her gaze immediately colliding with his. For a few seconds, lost in the dark hidden depths of his eyes, Annie had no idea how long she’d had the shop. ‘Oh, um, five years,’ she stammered, quickly pulling herself together. ‘I bought it just after I moved to Buttersley.’
‘And in that time has built up a very successful business,’ chipped in Harriet. ‘Annie gets orders from all over the country.’
Annie was aware of her flush deepening. Wasn’t it about time someone changed the subject? Please. ‘Not quite all over the country,’ she corrected her friend. ‘But word is certainly spreading.’
‘What do you do, Jake?’ asked Jenny, much to Annie’s relief.
‘This and that,’ he replied, sounding more than a little vague. ‘I’m working on a … project at the moment.’
Annie resisted rolling her eyes. How many times had she heard Jasper say he was ‘working on a project’? Obviously a standard phrase for that set. Harriet and Jenny, though, seemed enthralled.
‘That sound intriguing,’ said Harriet. ‘Tell us more.’
Jake shrugged. ‘Not much more to tell. And it’s far from intriguing. Now. What about you ladies? I’m sure you get up to all sorts of interesting things.’
Jenny tittered. ‘I wish. No. We’re just boring old housewives. Although we do dabble in a bit of cake-making. That’s where we met Annie actually. At an evening class learning to pipe. Annie, needless to say, was top of the class.’
Jake turned to Annie and fixed her with another penetrative gaze. ‘Now why does that not surprise me?’ he said, his tone so soft and sincere that goose bumps erupted all over Annie’s body. The moment was broken by a shrill:
‘Jake. Darling.’
All heads snapped around to find Lydia strutting towards them, the front zip of her gold playsuit straining to hold in place her surgically enhanced assets.
‘Sorry I’m late, sweetie,’ she gushed, perching on the seat next to Jake. ‘I got here as soon as I could. So … are you ready to go?’
‘I, er – ’ began Jake.
‘Jake and I have things to do,’ Lydia informed the group.
At the sort of things implied, plus the ensuing conspiratorial look at Jake, Annie felt a prick of annoyance.
‘Not staying for the quiz, Lydia?’ she asked archly.
Gazing seductively at Jake, Lydia traced a glossy fingernail down the line of her cleavage. ‘Quizzes aren’t really my thing, darling. But, as My Darren used to say … you can’t be good at everything.’ She flicked back her hair and stood up in her towering heels. ‘Are you ready, Jake?’
Jake flashed an apologetic smile. ‘Sorry. It was lovely meeting you all but I – ’
Not waiting for him to finish, Lydia linked her arm through his and dragged him away.
‘Oh my god,’ puffed Jenny, the moment the pair was out of earshot. ‘Has he been airbrushed or something? I thought men that good-looking were only in magazines.’
‘Even I could be tempted there,’ chuckled Harriet. ‘Although no one else stands a chance with Lydia on the case. I don’t suppose there are many red-blooded males around who could resist a cleavage like that.’
‘No,’ muttered Annie wearily. ‘I don’t
suppose there are.’
CHAPTER FIVE
Jake hadn’t slept well. In fact, he hadn’t slept at all. Not that that was unusual. His mind often switched to overdrive when he was writing, but last night it had been especially active. Images of Lydia Pembleton chasing him all the way back to Scotland in ten-inch heels had pervaded his mind. Each time he’d woken up in a cold sweat, heart hammering nineteen to the dozen. Thankfully he hadn’t slept long enough to discover what she had planned for him when she caught him. Now that really would have been a nightmare. By five o’clock he’d admitted defeat, tugged on shorts and a T-shirt, and gone downstairs to write. By lunchtime he’d had enough. He decided to take a break. He drove into Harrogate where he purchased some new running gear, stocked up on provisions, and had a haircut. He had just arrived back at the manor and started to unload the shopping bags when his mobile rang.
‘Jake, dahling. How are you?’
It was Tanya, his agent in London. Jake’s heart sank. No doubt she wanted to nail him down to a deadline. Something he was never comfortable with.
‘Fine thanks, Tanya. What can I do for you?’ he asked, tucking the phone under his chin as he retrieved a stray apple from the jeep floor and stuffed it into a carrier bag.
‘Oh, I think it’s more a case of what we can do for you, sweetie. You will never, in a million years, guess who’s just called.’
Never a fan of the woman’s melodramatics, Jake rolled his eyes as he gathered up his shopping bags. ‘Well, if I’ll never guess, you’d better tell me.’
She drew in a dramatic breath before blurting out, ‘Only the biggest film producing company in Hollywood. . They’ve read your last book and … wait for it … they loved it. They loved it so much they want to make a film of it.’
Jake’s bags tumbled to the floor. His heart skipped a beat. This was incredible news. Mind-blowing. In fact, so mind-blowing he was almost rendered speechless.
‘Well, that’s, er, very flattering,’ he eventually muttered.
‘Flattering?’ echoed Tanya. ‘It’s phenomenal. For all of us. The agency’s reputation will soar. And, needless to say, you will become a star. A very rich star. They are talking a lot of money, Jake. A lot of money. But we’re not accepting their first offer. Oh no. Our lawyers are already on the case. And of course, once it hits the press, they will be all over you. When they discover your true identity, it will cause a sensation. But don’t you worry. We’ll keep it exclusive. We’ve already decided to…’
As the words gushed from Tanya’s mouth, a film of cold sweat spread over Jake’s body. His chest constricted. His breath shortened. He felt as though someone was holding a pillow over his face, suffocating him.
‘… assuming of course, that’s okay with you.’
Okay with him? Jake had no idea what she’d been babbling on about the last few minutes but he doubted any of it would be okay with him. ‘I’m afraid it isn’t, Tanya. I’m not interested,’ he managed to croak.
A brief hiatus ensued.
‘But … you … you have to be interested,’ she eventually stammered. ‘This is huge. Massive.’
‘I don’t care.’
‘How can you not care?’ she snapped. ‘It’s every author’s dream.’
‘Not this one’s.’
Tanya fell silent. Jake could hear whispering in the background. He could imagine them all crowded around the phone, advising her on what to say next. A few seconds later her voice, laced with a poor attempt at empathy, floated out.
‘Look, sweetie, I know it’s a lot to take in. Particularly in your … circumstances. How about we give you some time to think about it? I’ll call you again tomorrow.’
‘There’s no point. I won’t change my mind.’
‘Just think about it overnight,’ she instructed, an edge of impatience creeping in. ‘This is an opportunity that could catapult you right up there with the big boys. Don’t dismiss it lightly.’
And she hung up.
With the phone still to his ear, Jake couldn’t move. His heart raced. But not with excitement. With sheer unadulterated terror. Tanya was right. This was most authors’ dream. But for him it would be a nightmare. A nuclear bomb blasting to smithereens his newly-constructed life. A hurricane whipping away his protective cocoon. A scalpel slicing through his clumsily patched wounds. It didn’t matter how much money they threw his way. No amount was worth that.
*
Back at the cottage, Annie shoved her apron in the washing machine, then stood up and ran a hand across the back of her neck. She really hadn’t had a good day. Hardly surprising given she’d barely slept a wink the night before. Every time she’d closed her eyes, images of wedding cakes, gold playsuits and floral shift dresses had whizzed around her mind. Consequently, she hadn’t been in the best of moods. A situation exacerbated by Lydia Pembleton’s visit to the shop that morning.
‘How was your quiz night, darling?’ asked Lydia, her condescending tone hacking a significant amount off Annie’s already short fuse.
‘Great fun, thank you,’ lied Annie. In truth, she hadn’t enjoyed the quiz at all. Following Jake and Lydia’s departure, she’d wanted nothing more than to go home and crawl under her duvet.
‘How sweet,’ said Lydia, a disingenuous smile on her orange face. ‘Jake and I do think it’s so considerate of the pub to provide entertainment for middle-aged women with limited social lives.’
Annie’s hackles rose. ‘Isn’t it? Without it, we’d all be at home watching our false teeth float around a jar.’
‘Something along those lines, I’m sure,’ said Lydia with a saccharine smile. ‘Now, I’d like half a dozen chocolate chip cookies, please. It’s a little treat for Jake. He has a very sweet tooth you know.’
Annie didn’t know. Nor did she want to. Only marginally less than she wanted to know what Jake had done to deserve a treat. The less she dwelled on that, the better. Battling the urge to throw the biscuits at Lydia, she used her tongs to slide them into a paper bag.
‘He’s writing a book, you know,’ informed Lydia, in a voice which implied she were party to some great secret.
‘Who is?’ asked Annie, feigning disinterest.
‘Jake, of course. Isn’t it exciting having an author in residence?’
Annie rolled her eyes. She’d bet her shop that Jake wouldn’t make it to Chapter Two before boredom set in and he moved onto the next thing. None of Jasper’s friends ever stuck at anything. To them ‘A Hard Day’s Work’ was a misprint of the title of a Beatles’ song.
‘Will that be all?’ she asked coolly, handing over the bag of cookies.
Lydia sighed satisfactorily. ‘Yes, thank you.’ She placed a five pound note on the counter. ‘And I would just like to say, Annie, that Jake and I think it’s marvellous the way you combine being a single mother with running your little shop. Keep the change.’ And with that parting comment and a flick of hair, she tottered out the door.
Recalling the conversation back at the cottage hours later, Annie still seethed. Honestly, Jake and Lydia – who’d known each other all of two minutes – were now, apparently, A Couple. Which had nothing to do with her. They were welcome to each other. But the idea of them discussing her and her life seemed a little … perfidious somehow. Completely nonsensical given that she and Lydia had never been close, and she scarcely knew Jake. It wasn’t even as if her life was particularly interesting. Or any great secret. Everyone in the village knew of her personal circumstances and the history with Lance. No, what rankled her most was the slant Lydia had undoubtedly added. By her pitying tone in the shop, she would guess it went something along the lines of “poor little Annie, the pathetic abandoned victim”. Well, Annie most certainly was not a victim. She had picked up the pieces of her life and rearranged them very successfully, thank you. And, just because there wasn’t A Significant Other to treat her, didn’t mean she couldn’t treat herself. She’d have a long soak in the bath, and a large glass of wine. If her memory served her right, there w
as half a bottle of Prosecco languishing in the fridge. She crossed the kitchen to investigate, but before she opened the fridge door, something on it caught her eye – her running plan. She ran a finger down to the current week to discover that she should be running three miles today. The last thing she wanted to do. But, if she didn’t stick to the plan, how likely was she to finish the 10k race? Not very. And if she didn’t finish the 10k, it would have a massively detrimental effect on her confidence to attempt a half marathon. No, she really should go. Other than being tired, she had no excuse not to, particularly as Sophie was having tea at Bethany’s house and wouldn’t be home for another hour. Plus, just think how much more she would appreciate the bath and the wine on her return.
Jake couldn’t concentrate. He’d sat at the computer all afternoon and written a total of six words. Tanya’s phone call had unsettled him. Not that he questioned his decision. Lord, no. Never in a million years would he accept the offer. But the call had triggered a rare analysis of his life – something he generally tried to avoid. Predictably, once the self-interrogation began, it spiralled out of control. Questions like: Was he too reclusive? Was it healthy cutting himself off from the real world? Was he happy to face the rest of his life alone? had bombarded his now battered brain. With maximum effort he had eventually plugged the torrent, bundled the questions into an imaginary box, and tied it shut with a large ribbon upon which the words I am perfectly happy with my life were imprinted. That done, he concluded there was no point wasting more time contemplating his navel. If he couldn’t write, he might as well do something useful – like give his new running shoes an airing.
Not having explored the area yet, Jake decided to stick to the road. If he ran down to the sign one mile from the village, then back again, that should be enough to start with. He would map out a few longer routes later, set out a proper running plan. Today, he’d test out his new running shoes.