Fragrance of Violets (3 page)

Edwina Seton relaxed again. “Bless you.”

Abbey hesitated but decided not to tell her mother about Jack, although she wasn’t sure why. “I’m going to change my shirt—it’s filthy with all those dusty boxes—and then I’ll pop along to the pub to see Sally.”

“Take your key, Abbey. I think I’ll have a long bath and an early night.”

“Will do.”

She changed into a pale blue shirt, brushed her hair and tied it back, and did a quick make-up repair. Fifteen minutes later, she opened the pub door.

The first person she saw was Jack. He was standing at the bar, handing his glass to Mike for a refill. She wasn’t sure whether her heart jumped or sank, or did both at the same time.

Mike greeted her as he poured Jack’s pint. She smiled at him, and avoided looking at Jack. “Hi, Mike. Has Sally finished in the kitchen?”

“Not quite. There was a big rush about half past eight, and they’re still clearing up.”

“I’ll go through and give them a hand. Excuse me,” she added as she sidestepped Jack.

Her stomach churned as she wove her way through the crowded lounge toward the door marked
Staff Only
, and a flush rose to her cheeks. She didn’t make a habit of ignoring people, but seeing Jack had thrown her off balance again.

CHAPTER 3

Abbey pushed open the kitchen door, and Sally turned from stacking plates in one of the cupboards.

“I don’t need to ask,” she said. “He’s still in the bar, isn’t he?”

“Who? Why d’you say that?”

“Your face gives you away.” Sally’s cheeks dimpled as she grinned. “Who? Jack Tremayne, of course. Why? Because you’re as red as a beetroot.”

“No, I’m not.” Abbey raised her hand to her burning cheek and gave her friend a sheepish half-smile. “Okay, yes, it
is
a shock to see him again. For the second time, too.” She broke off as two of the kitchen staff came into the room with more piles of dishes. “We can talk later. Anything I can do to help?”

Sally took off her white cap and ran her fingers through her short fair hair. “Nope, I think we’re finished now. Only the surfaces to wipe and the floor to mop. Carla and Jo always do that. You’ve timed it well, my friend. Let’s go into the living room.”

Abbey followed her into the family quarters behind the public rooms, and Sally poured two bottles of lager into glasses. “Come on, tell me more. The second time, you said?”

They sat on the couch, and Abbey recounted her meeting with Jack in the car park.

“It’s thrown me,” she admitted after taking a quick gulp of her drink. “I didn’t even know he was back here until this morning. And, if I’m honest, I don’t know how to treat him. I decided to be polite and cool, but it hasn’t worked. Instead I’ve been curt and offhand with him.”

Sally studied her. “Do you still fancy him?”

Abbey stared into the depths of her glass. “It wasn’t like that,” she said eventually. “We were kids together, we did all kinds of crazy things, we were best friends, we could talk about anything. It was just Jack and me.”

“What went wrong? I know you quarrelled, but why?”

The heat rose to Abbey’s cheeks again. Even now, she wasn’t comfortable talking about what happened. “He—he tried to change our friendship into something I didn’t want. I wasn’t ready for it, and we had the most awful fight, and he said a lot of nasty things.” She stopped with a small gulp. The memory of Jack’s mocking words still had the power to hurt her.

“Is that why you’ve never been involved with anyone? You once said you haven’t had any long-term relationships.”

“I’ve lots of men friends, but they’re friends, nothing more. My lifestyle isn’t conducive to establishing any relationship. You work crazy hours in the theatre, or you can be away for weeks if you’re filming on location.”

“Are you sure that isn’t an excuse, Abbey? Plenty of actors have successful relationships. Marriages, too.”

“True, but so many show business marriages end in acrimonious divorces, and I’ve lived through the anguish that comes from the breakdown of a relationship. Especially my parents’, and Louise’s divorce from Stuart, too.”

“Not all marriages break down.” Sally gave her a quick grin. “I hope mine doesn’t.”

“Your marriage with Mike is one of the strongest I know. You’ve been lucky.”

“It’s not luck. It’s love and trust, and compromise, too, sometimes.”

Abbey thought for a moment. “Doesn’t it scare you? Surely everyone thinks their marriage will last, but many don’t.”

“That could be because they don’t work hard enough at it. Relationships can’t run on auto-pilot. You have to make a commitment and do your best to get it right.”

“And not cheat on you like Louise’s Stuart did? Or walk out on your family as my father did?” She gave a quick laugh. “How on earth did we get into all this?”

“Because we were talking about you and Jack.”

“Sally, there’s no me and Jack. Our friendship ended years ago and our lives have diverged. We’re strangers now.” The feathery quiver deep inside her told her she wasn’t being totally honest, but she needed to remember what had happened in the past, and not agonise about a fleeting physical attraction. “He said he was staying here,” she went on, “so I suppose I’ll have to get used to seeing him around for a while. I don’t think he’ll be back for good, though. He’s probably having a short break.” She clenched her fists momentarily, and then held up her hands. “Oh, let’s forget him and talk about something else. Did your little brother tell you about the drama festival?”

“Yes, he’s so excited about it.”

They continued to discuss the drama club until Mike put his head around the door. “Just called last orders, and there’s still quite a crowd in. Can you give me a hand, Sal?”

Sally stood up. “Come on, Abbey, you can pull a few pints, too.”

Abbey hesitated. “What if Jack’s still there?”

“What did you say before? You’d have to get used to seeing him around? Now’s the time to start.”

“Yes, you’re right.”

Abbey tensed as she followed Sally along the short corridor to the bar. Her eyes darted around the lounge. It was still crowded, but she couldn’t see Jack. With an inner sigh of relief, she smiled at the waiting customers. “Who’s next?”

She served the drinks, and chatted and laughed with the locals. As she turned from the cash till with Billy Neale’s change, the sight of Jack standing at the bar made her stiffen, and she dropped some of the coins.

The heat rushed to her cheeks as she bent down to retrieve them. “Sorry,” she said to Billy, “I think I’ve picked them all up. Seven pounds, sixty-seven, wasn’t it? Two pounds thirty-three change. Yes, it’s all there.”

After counting the coins into Billy’s hand, she forced herself to turn to Jack, who had deposited an empty glass on the bar counter. “Another pint of Hardman’s?”

“Yes, please.”

Her hand shook as she poured the beer.

For heavens’ sake, Abbey, get a grip
.

She managed to put his glass on the counter without spilling it.

“And have one yourself,” he said.

She was about to refuse, but heard herself say, “Oh—okay. Thanks.”

Damn it, why had she said that?

“What do you drink these days?” he asked. “Some fancy cocktail?”

Ignoring his gibe, she arched her brows. “In this pub? Mike would throw me out. I drink Hardman’s here.”

Jack grinned, and something inside her turned a cartwheel.

“Good for you,” he said, and she warmed to the comment. He went on, “Whenever I have a pint of Hardman’s, I always remember the rhyme we once made up for a competition.”

She couldn’t help but smile as she poured a half pint for herself. “Lakes and fells and tarns and becks—”

“But Lakeland’s best is Hardman’s X,” he finished off. “We didn’t win anything though, did we?”

“I can’t even remember what the prize was.”

“I can. Fifty-two pints of Hardman’s, one a week for a year.”

“It’s as well we didn’t win, since we must have been about thirteen at the time.”

Okay, this was easier than she expected. If they could keep their conversation on this banal level, she could handle it. Polite but cool, as she’d determined to be. Show him she wasn’t fazed by his unexpected reappearance. Make it very clear she’d put the past behind her and moved on.

Jack stayed by the bar as he started to drink his beer, and Abbey looked around for someone else to serve.

“Think we’re finished now,” Mike said.

“I’ll go and collect some glasses.”

“It’s okay, Abbey, Sally’s done most of them. Thanks for helping out. Stay here and finish your drink.”

Abbey groaned inwardly, but couldn’t think of any excuse to move away. She took a quick sip of her drink and licked the froth from her upper lip.

“You used to do that with the cans of shandy we shared by the lake,” Jack said.

“Do what?”

“Run your tongue along your lip to catch the froth.”

“Did I?” There was no way she wanted any more reminiscences. “Thanks for the drink, but I need to help Mike wash the glasses now.”

“You can’t.”

“Why not?”

He pointed to where Mike was washing glasses. “There’s only one machine so unless you’re going to shove Mike out of the way—”

She gave a short laugh. “Oh, I’m fairly adept at shoving people out of my way when necessary.”

Jack kept his gaze on her as he took another mouthful of beer. “May I ask you something?”

“What?” She tried to keep her voice casual, but knew the word came out too curtly. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound so offhand.”

“I wouldn’t blame you for being offhand with me, Abbey.”

As his blue eyes rested on her, her skin became hot and tingly. She averted her gaze from his, and made her tone more conciliatory. “What did you want to ask?”

“Why are you here in Rusthwaite? You’re dealing with the shop stock, you’re helping here in the bar, and tonight I overheard someone talking about a drama club you run in the village. I thought you lived in London now.”

“Yes, I do. I have an apartment there, but I’ve been back here for about three months. I needed a break.”

“So you haven’t abandoned your career?”

“That’s what you expected me to do, isn’t it?” His hurtful words echoed in her mind, and her anger flared. “When you told me I’d end up working in seedy bars or restaurants while I went to hundreds of auditions with hundreds of other hopefuls.”

“I only asked because I was concerned you might have decided to give up acting. However, since you’ve brought up something I said a long time ago, I think I was trying to protect you.”

“From what?”

“From disappointment, from building up your hopes only to have them knocked down again. Your head was full of crazy dreams. At least, that was what I thought at the time. I only knew the odds. Eighty percent or more of Equity registered actors out of work at any given time.”

“I was well aware of the statistics, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t dream.” She took another sip of her beer and gave him a challenging glare. “You thought no one should follow their dreams in case they ended up being disappointed at not achieving them.”

“That wasn’t what I thought. I was being realistic.”

“But if all aspiring actors thought about all the out of work actors and listened to the so-called realists who keep telling them to find a proper job, the drama schools would be empty.”

“No, they wouldn’t. They’d be full of—correction, they
are
full of people like Abigail Seton who don’t listen to the realists but listen to their hearts.”

“Are you saying that’s wrong?”

“On the contrary. I followed a dream, too, if you remember.”

“Yes, and we all know what that led to,” she snapped, and bit her lower lip. “I’m sorry, that was below the belt.” She took a deep breath before deciding to tackle at least one of the issues that stood between them. “But you
did
cause a huge problem here. People had to work hard for years to raise the funds to restore the gatehouse.”

“I’m aware of that, and I know some people won’t forgive me.”

“Why did you do it? Didn’t you realise the problems it would create? Or didn’t you care? Were you only interested in making a name for yourself by writing something controversial?”

Jack’s blue eyes glinted, and she thought he was about to retaliate with a force that matched her own.

Instead, he relaxed his facial muscles and spoke evenly. “You probably won’t believe me, but at the time I
did
think the Lake District needed to pour more money into tourism. If you recall, I also argued that we should create more parking areas. People howled in protest, both here and in other places, but you have to admit the big car park on the outskirts of the village
has
brought in more visitors, and shop owners like your mother have benefitted from the increase in trade.”

Irritated by the way he’d turned the whole argument around and made it personal, she shrugged. “Many people here also think we shouldn’t lose sight of our heritage. That’s why there’s a thriving local history society.”

Jack nodded. “We need to find a balance between the tourists and the residents, at the same time as preserving this area’s natural beauty and its history.”

“Which your article didn’t address.”

“I agree.”

Her eyes widened. “You agree?” She took a mental step back from the argument in which they’d almost become embroiled. It reminded her vividly of when she and Jack discussed, and argued about, so many different topics. The echoes of the boy he’d been were still there, but the man she was talking to was different. More mature, more confident, more secure in everything he said.

He lifted his glass to his mouth, took a quick drink, and nodded. “Yes, I agree with you. I didn’t address that balance in the article. I wrote what I felt as a twenty-two year old who’d grown up here, but I wouldn’t write the same today. Some of my views have changed in the last eight years. Anyway, how
is
your Mum?”

Abbey realised he’d steered the conversation in a different direction to avoid the continuation of their argument. Satisfied that she’d held her own, she conceded it was
better to keep to casual pleasantries. Relaxing slightly, she smiled. “She’s fine. The shop’s doing well, and she’s involved in several local groups, as well as the history society.”