‘We don’t have to go home,’ he said, his mouth on hers, ‘if you don’t want. We could stay here.’
‘I don’t want.’ Her hands had found their way under his shirt and she was running them up his back. He pulled her close, bending to kiss a trail from beneath her ear, down her neck and along the pale, freckle-strewn skin of her shoulder.
‘That’s settled then.’
‘Good.’
‘Good.’ He tipped up her chin with his finger, lifting it so he was looking directly into her eyes. ‘As long as you’re sure this is what you want.’
‘It’s what I want,’ she said simply.
He inhaled sharply as he felt her thumb tracing a line along his stomach, following the edge of his belt. And then he stopped thinking about anything at all.
He woke early the next morning, automatically reaching for his phone to check the time, realizing as he did so that no, he wasn’t at home and nor was he alone. Hannah was curled up against his back, still fast asleep, her hair a tangle of waves on the pillow. He moved carefully, not wanting to wake her.
‘Oh,’ she said, eyes snapping open. ‘Um, hello.’
He felt his stomach tighten with a wave of apprehension. Had she woken up regretting what had happened?
‘Hi.’ He turned so he was facing her fully.
‘That was nice,’ she said, curling a hand around his neck. ‘Last night, I mean.’
‘Nice,’ he said, starting to laugh, teasing her.
‘All right, maybe that’s not the best word.’
It felt strangely natural to wake up in bed with Hannah. For years, he’d been happy to keep the women he’d met at arm’s length – it had seemed easier that way. He’d loved Diana, but the way he felt about her was nothing compared to this. And yet here he was, lying in bed with someone he actually liked – not just lusted after, but actually admired and wanted to spend time with. Maybe he could open up to the possibility of—
His phone buzzed three times in quick succession.
‘Sorry.’ He turned back towards the bedside table and reached across again, picking it up. ‘I’d better check what this is.’
‘I must go to the loo,’ Hannah said.
I don’t want you to worry, the first message said, but Joe’s turned up.
Before you say anything, I’m safe, he’s fine, and I think actually he’s – well, he seems different. Let me know when you get this and tell me when you’ll be back.
Jake looked at his phone in disbelief. Hannah returned from the bathroom a moment later, wrapped in one of the thick white towelling dressing gowns that were hanging on the bathroom door. She climbed onto the bed and sat, legs curled underneath her, looking suddenly much younger and vulnerable. His heart squeezed as he spoke.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, still holding his phone. ‘I really need to get back.’
‘Oh,’ she said. She put a hand to her mouth for a moment as if trying to compose herself. ‘That’s okay. It’s fine.’
‘No,’ he reached out a hand. ‘It’s not you, it’s – I need to get back. Something’s going on with Sarah.’
‘Shit.’ Her brow furrowed. ‘What’s happened?’
‘The ex I told you about? He’s turned up.’
‘Oh my God.’
‘I know.’
Chapter Thirty-one
They drove home in a slightly uncomfortable silence, punctuated by fleeting conversations about nothing in particular. It was clear to Hannah that Jake was preoccupied by thoughts of his sister, and she didn’t know him well enough to know how best to respond or to help. When they turned into Little Maudley she actually felt a sense of relief that she’d soon be home and drinking tea in the kitchen with Katie, who at least would be able to share the burden of her growing sense of guilt that she’d managed to mess up a perfectly good friendship with the aid of a bottle of champagne and a sense of being miles away from all the usual responsibilities she felt.
‘I’m sorry,’ Jake said, as they pulled up outside the post office. Christmas lights were sparkling at the windows and it looked warm and welcoming on a drab, grey December morning. She could see Katie inside chatting to Ben, the two of them laughing about something together.
‘It’s fine,’ she said, scooping up her coat.
Jake took her bag from the boot and made to go into the shop with it.
‘Don’t worry.’ Hannah took it out of his hands. ‘I’ll take it. You get off and find out what’s happening.’
He looked relieved at that. She was almost surprised when he brushed the hair back from her face and leaned over, giving her a gentle kiss on the cheek.
‘I had a really good time last night,’ he said, stepping back and looking at her with his intent, blue-green eyes.
‘Me too.’ Why did she feel like this was the thanks very much but no thanks conversation? She gave him what she hoped was a brave, I-do-this-all-the-time smile.
‘Right, I’d better get inside and find out what they’ve done to the shop in my absence. Knowing Ben, he’s probably spray-painted the walls and told Katie I’ve given him permission.’
Jake’s face broke into a smile. For a moment, the anxious expression he’d been wearing all the way home was gone and he looked more like his old self.
‘Good luck. I’ll give you a shout later, let you know what’s happening.’
‘Please do.’ She put a hand on his forearm, feeling the muscle beneath his shirt, and squeezed it gently in a gesture of affection and support. ‘I’ll be thinking of you.’
His eyebrows lifted slightly. ‘I appreciate that.’
‘Well hello, dirty stop-out,’ Katie said, the moment she walked into the shop.
‘Katie,’ Hannah hissed, looking around for Ben. Fortunately he’d disappeared into the cafe and was standing at the counter chatting to one of the girls he knew from school who worked there at the weekends.
‘I want all the gory details,’ Katie said, rubbing her hands together. ‘And I mean all of them.’
‘Let me just stick this bag upstairs.’ Hannah shouldered it and headed for the connecting door.
‘I’ll be two minutes. Ursula here,’ Katie motioned to an older woman who was reorganizing tins of soup on the shelves, ‘has been keeping me on the straight and narrow.’
‘She’s been very helpful,’ Ursula said, chuckling. ‘Although you might not be so happy with what she’s done to your bookshelves . . .’
Hannah spun round. Katie had rearranged all of the books so they were shelved in rainbow order. It looked stunning, but Hannah could only wonder what on earth the villagers were going to make of it.
‘You’ve got to admit that looks good,’ Katie said, looking pleased with herself.
Hannah moved closer. Katie had shifted the little armchair in the corner and added a colourful striped blanket and a squashy pillow, and hung some of Ben’s paintings on the walls.
‘You’ve put price tags on Ben’s paintings?’
‘Yep.’ Katie nodded. Ben appeared from the cafe, holding a bacon roll he’d wheedled out of his friend.
‘Katie reckons I can sell these,’ he said with his mouth full. ‘So if I don’t make it as a player, I can always become a graffiti artist.’
‘Like Banksy,’ Katie added, looking pleased with herself.
‘Exactly,’ said Ben.
‘Well, as long as it keeps you out of trouble,’ Hannah said, raising an eyebrow. ‘Has he been behaving himself in my absence?’
‘Good as gold,’ Katie said, winking at Ben stagily.
‘Oh God,’ she sighed, laughing, ‘What’s been going on?’
‘Nothing.’
‘What kind of nothing?’
‘We saw you on TV,’ Ben said, and Hannah was astounded to see that he actually looked impressed. ‘You were sitting with Kian Burrows and Jordan Hall. Did you get their autographs?’
It hadn’t even occurred to her. ‘God, sorry.’
‘It’s fine.’ Ben shrugged. ‘We saw Jake doing his bit
. He looked really cool. Did you feel weird being there and just being an ordinary person?’
Katie snorted with laughter. ‘Your mother isn’t just an ordinary person,’ she said, elbowing Ben in the ribs. ‘She’s bloody marvellous. She’s come down here, set up a bookshop, sorted this place out, kept you from going off the rails . . .’
‘Yeah, yeah,’ said Ben, shaking his head. ‘Whatever.’ He strolled back towards the cafe, laughing.
‘He bloody adores you,’ Katie said, as they headed back into the cottage.
‘You think so?’
‘Absolutely. I mean, he’s always been more your son than Phil’s anyway, but moving down here – well, it’s made your bond really strong. Is he seeing much of his dad at all?’
‘Nothing, really. I think they chat on WhatsApp. Phil keeps promising he’s going to come down and then making excuses for why he’s not.’
‘That’s a bit shit.’
‘I know.’ Hannah took a packet of make-up wipes out of her bag and started removing the mascara and tinted moisturizer she’d put on that morning before they headed home. She just wanted to climb into bed and sleep until morning – partly because she felt a nagging sense of unease, and also because she’d had barely any sleep the previous night.
As if reading her mind, Katie crossed her arms and looked at her sternly. ‘So . . . are you going to tell me what happened to make you decide to just stay over after all?’
Hannah put her hands over her face for a moment, aware she was going distinctly pink.
‘Oh my God,’ Katie said, eyes like saucers. ‘You did not?’
Hannah pressed her lips together, removing her hands from her face and looking directly at her best friend. ‘I . . .’
‘I knew it,’ Katie exclaimed, clapping her hands together in delight. ‘I was watching you two every time the camera panned across your table and I was like he has totally got the hots for her – and I was right!’
‘Yeah, but . . .’ Hannah sighed.
‘Oh don’t start with the “oh but” nonsense – he gave you a lift home, didn’t he? You’re not going to try and tell me you think he’s given you the elbow already?’
Hannah sagged back into the cushions of the sofa. ‘He couldn’t not give me a lift home, could he? We live in the depths of beyond.’
‘Yeah, but – what on earth makes you think he’s not interested?’
Hannah rubbed her chin thoughtfully. Jake had talked to her about Sarah in confidence, and somehow – despite the fact that she’d always told Katie everything – she felt honour bound to stay quiet.
‘Oh, I don’t know.’ She wondered what was happening up at Greenhowes, and turned over her phone to check just in case he’d sent a message – but of course he’d only just be home. And anyway, realistically, texting her was hardly the first thing he would do under the circumstances.
She needed to get a grip and focus on what was in front of her. There was an email from a journalist who was calling her from the local newspaper tomorrow to talk about the ways bookshops were changing in a world where online shopping was taking over. That was what she needed to focus on – not whether or not Jake was planning on taking things any further.
‘You’re entitled to be happy,’ Katie said, assertively.
‘What?’
‘I mean, it’s okay for you to have had a nice night with him, and it’s okay if it leads to something else. If you want it to, that is. I mean, you can always just have it as a one-night thing, although that might be awkward with the whole standing at football every weekend situation, but I’m sure you’d work it out . . .’
‘I did have a nice night.’ Hannah closed her eyes for a moment as an aftershock of overwhelming desire washed over her, making her feel as if she’d been struck by a particularly violent bolt of lightning. She shook her head. ‘I mean – all right, it was more than nice. But he’s got – stuff.’
‘Stuff?’
‘Family stuff.’
‘That doesn’t mean you can’t have a thing with him. You’ve got family stuff.’ Katie pointed to a framed photograph of Hannah and a much younger Ben.
‘I do,’ she said, nodding. ‘I dunno. It’s complicated.’
‘It doesn’t have to be,’ said Katie.
‘I suppose you’re right.’ Hannah wasn’t convinced.
Later that night, with Katie having headed back to Manchester and the shop locked up, Hannah sank into a hot bath. She was sore all over – she felt herself blushing at the realization that the reason was a night of . . . well, the sort of exercise she hadn’t had in a bloody long time. And she was antsy, even though she didn’t want to admit it to herself. Jake hadn’t called or texted. She’d allowed herself to check WhatsApp but he hadn’t been online, and she’d left her phone in the bedroom, resolving not to be the sort of person who spends all night checking. She was, of course, lying in the bath desperately wondering if he’d been in touch. She sank back into the bubbles, closed her eyes and told herself that she should focus on the interview tomorrow. There was a photographer coming too, and she needed to decide if she should reorganize the books back from Katie’s rainbow into a more traditional – if less photogenic – order.
Chapter Thirty-two
Jake pulled into the drive, his stomach in a knot of anxiety. He had no idea what to expect from Joe and his basic, brotherly instinct was to walk inside, grab him by the scruff of the neck and sling him out. But he knew he couldn’t do that without risking alienating Sarah. He needed to be strategic, like he’d been for all those years on the pitch. He looked at his phone. He wanted more than anything to ring Hannah and ask her for her advice – what the hell was he supposed to do? If he pushed, Sarah might just leave with Joe, and God only knew if he’d ever see her again. As he stared at it, lost in thought, the phone rang out, making him start with surprise.
‘Jake.’ It was Max, his agent.
‘You all right?’
‘Yep, great. Was good to see you last night. And Hannah’s a peach, isn’t she?’
Max always made Jake smile. He was such a rough and ready Cockney bloke, but underneath he was a real softie with a heart of gold. He’d been married to Steph, his wife, since they were eighteen, and he absolutely adored her.
‘She’s lovely, isn’t she?’ He thought about how gorgeous she’d looked when she’d walked – uncertain and clearly uncomfortable – out of the bathroom in the hotel, her black sequinned dress sparkling in the light, hair a mass of shining dark waves. His mind took him somewhere else then, remembering how she’d looked when she was lying naked on the white sheets, hair tangled and spilling over the pillow, hand under her cheek as she slept – before the bloody phone had gone off. God, he should just get rid of phones altogether. All they did was bring him trouble.
‘Yeah, she’s gorgeous. You looked great together. Just wanted to say we’ve had another offer for you to do some presenting work, and—’
‘Nope,’ he said, shaking his head in mild amusement. It didn’t seem to matter how many times he said no, Max was like a dog with a bone.
‘You’d be bloody brilliant at it,’ Max said, trying another tack.
‘Maybe,’ Jake said. ‘But it’s not me. I’ve spent my whole career trying to avoid the bloody press. The last thing I want to do is start courting it by shoving my ugly mug on the telly every weekend. Plus I’m a player, not a pundit.’
‘You’re a stubborn bugger,’ Max said, laughing. ‘I can’t persuade you at all, can I?’
‘You can’t.’ Jake thought for a moment. If there was one person he could rely on for straight-talking advice, though, it was Max. ‘There’s something you could help me with, though.’
‘What’s that?’
‘It’s awkward. And it’s a long story.’
Fifteen minutes later, Jake headed into the house, having offloaded to Max and talked through what to do next. He was going to play it cool, just try and keep things calm. And then he was going to get the toxic, abusive arsehole o
ut of her life forever. He just had to stay calm enough to do it.
Sarah and Joe were in the sitting room, by the log burner. Jake was relieved to see that she was in one armchair and he was in another. The dogs were sitting close by her feet, not looking particularly happy. They’d always been pretty good judges of character and it was clear that they didn’t think a lot of Joe.
‘Hi,’ Sarah said, giving him a little wave. She looked haunted again, the old shadows beneath her eyes having somehow reappeared. Joe looked at Jake for a moment and stood up, extending a hand.
‘Nice to meet you, man,’ said Joe. ‘Nice place you’ve got here.’
‘Thanks.’ Jake looked at him, trying not to give anything away. ‘So . . . how did you find it?’
‘Easy enough,’ Joe said, looking pleased with himself. ‘I found out from a friend of a friend.’
Sarah snorted slightly at that, muttering, ‘She’s not that much of a friend,’ under her breath.
‘Anyway,’ Joe said, pinning her with a fleeting but intense stare, as if to tell her to shut up, ‘this friend happened to mention that Sarah was staying with her newfound half-brother, and it wasn’t that hard to work out where you were. Then I went to the village shop and some bird behind the counter told me exactly where to find you.’
Jake clenched his teeth. So someone in the village had blabbed and now here Joe was, sitting in Jake’s house as if he had every right to be there. He fisted his hands and then released them, remembering what Max had said.
‘I was thinking we could do some dinner, if you fancy it?’
Sarah looked at him with a puzzled expression.
‘That sounds good.’
‘I’ve got some steaks and stuff,’ Jake said, moving so he was standing behind Joe. ‘Sar, do you fancy giving me a hand?’
Her eyes widened almost imperceptibly. ‘Course,’ she said, making to get out of the chair.
Joe didn’t miss a trick. He stood up at exactly the same time, rubbing his hands down the side of slightly ill-fitting jeans. ‘I’ll give you a hand too.’
He didn’t leave Sarah’s side the whole time they were cooking, or when they were eating. It was clear he’d worked out that Jake wanted to get her alone, and Jake was just as determined that he’d succeed. It was just like the old days, playing with an opposition team member dogging his footsteps all the way into the penalty box as he tried to score. Eventually, though, having downed enough red wine and expensive malt whisky to sink a battleship, Joe passed out snoring on the sofa, and Jake motioned for Sarah to follow him into the kitchen.
The Village Green Bookshop: A Feel-Good Escape for All Book Lovers from the Bestselling Author of The Telephone Box Library Page 22