Fragrance of Violets (6 page)

An odd mixture of relief and regret trickled through her. “Wonder if he’s left?”

“If he has, at least you can relax. You were like a coiled spring the other night, Abbey.”

“I know. Anyway, I’ll see you on Saturday evening. I’m looking forward to it.”

After clicking off her phone, she stood still as she tried to sort out her mixed feelings.

She should be glad her life could return to its previous easy-going, predictable course, but when the image of Jack came into her mind, her stomach fluttered. It wasn’t simply his good looks and those blue eyes that attracted her. More than those, his mature and charismatic personality pulled at her like a powerful magnet. If there hadn’t been a disastrous past between them, she could easily have fallen for him.

She dismissed the thought as soon as it entered her head. She’d steeled herself against falling for any man, and she wasn’t going to start now.

* * * * *

On Saturday evening, the weather improved after a week of almost constant rain and the air smelt fresh and clean as she walked the short distance into the village. In her hand she held her birthday gift for Sam. After deliberating what to give him, she bought a voucher so he could download whatever music or movies he wanted. She also decided the fully annotated script of her first TV drama would thrill the stage struck teenager.

She smiled as she thought back. How easy everything had seemed to begin with. Television director Peter Stones called her after he saw her in a drama school play and asked her to audition for the lead role in his new production of
Jane Eyre
. She got the part, won an award for Best Newcomer, and thought the world was her oyster. Other parts followed, in several TV drama series and a couple of films as well as a four week run in Manchester in
The Importance of Being Earnest
and a six month tour as Portia in
The Merchant of Venice
. She’d not been out of work for more than a couple of weeks since she left drama school, until last December.

When she reached the White Lion, she forced herself not to think of her last audition, the one that had dented her confidence. Instead, she greeted the relief manager and walked through the lounge bar to the crowded restaurant at the rear of the pub.

“Happy Birthday, Sam,” she said as she gave him a quick hug. At sixteen, he was several inches taller than her, with the same fair hair as Sally.

“Thanks, Abbey.” He grinned at her. “Have you found anywhere the drama club can meet next week?”

“Not yet. We may have to use the church temporarily.”

“We definitely need a meeting. I talked to Jack Tremayne last night, and he gave me loads of ideas for a play.”

Shock ran through her. “You talked to Jack? About the drama festival?”

“Yeah, he’s cool, and he’s coming tonight. You should talk to him about it.”

“Yes. Yes, I will.” Abbey’s mind reeled. Jack was coming here tonight? She gave Sam a quick smile and handed him his gift. “Anyway, I hope you’ll like this, Sam.”

“Thanks, Abbey. Is it okay if I open it later?”

“Of course.”

She moved away as one of Sam’s school friends approached. Her first instinct was to cut and run before Jack arrived. Instead, she took a deep breath in a vain effort to relax her taut muscles.

He arrived about five minutes later while she was chatting to Jeannie, Sally’s mother. Despite her determination to accept his presence calmly, she couldn’t stop herself from glancing across the room to where he was talking to Mike.

“You’re wondering why we’ve invited Jack, aren’t you?” Jeannie said.

“I’m sorry, I was—”

“Sam wanted him to come,” Jeannie explained. “They played snooker in the games room last night, and Sam was impressed with some of Jack’s ideas, so he invited him.”

“Aren’t you worried about people giving him the cold shoulder?”

“Abbey, it was a long time ago. Oh, I know people like Dolly Garside won’t give him the time of day, or your mum, and a few others. The old gatehouse is a constant reminder, but after eight years, it’s time to forgive and forget.”

Forgive and forget
. The same words Jack had used the other night. Why did other people find it easy to do when she found it so difficult?

“Everyone seems to be greeting him amicably,” she conceded.

Maybe people in the village deserved more credit than she’d given them. After all, as Jeannie said, it was all a long time ago, and her own perceptions had been coloured by what had happened between them, and also by her mother’s opinion of him.

Aware that she needed to apologise to him for what she’d said on the valley road, she steeled herself a couple of times to approach him, but either someone else greeted her, or he started to talk to one of Sally’s relatives.

Finally, she decided this was the wrong time and place. Even though she was tensely aware of his presence, she kept her distance. Instead, she asked Michelle, Sally’s younger sister, about her new job at the council office in Kendal.

Sam startled her when he rushed across the room to give her a hug. “Abbey, I opened your gift, and it’s fantastic. A real TV script, and all your notes, too.”

She smiled. “Yes, I wrote quite a lot of notes in that one. It was my first major role, and I wanted to get it right.”

“It’s cool,” Sam said. “Oh, and have you talked to Jack yet about the drama festival play?”

“Not yet, no.”

Before she could stop him, Sam waved his arm in the air and called, “Jack! Jack, come over here!”

Abbey’s heart sank as Jack acknowledged the youngster’s wave and headed in their direction.

Sam grinned at him. “Jack, you must tell Abbey some of the things we talked about last night. You know, about the play.”

Abbey deliberately avoided meeting Jack’s eyes. “Sam, it’s okay, you can tell me later. There isn’t time now.” She glanced across the room and saw with relief that more guests had arrived. “Look, Adam and John are here.”

“But we must find somewhere to meet next week,” Sam insisted and added, “And Jack should come too, because he has some cool ideas.”

“I heard about the problem with the Old School,” Jack said. His face creased in concern, and Abbey was aware of a melting sensation inside her.

For heavens’ sake, why was he having this effect on her?

“Sam said you need a place to meet,” he went on. “How about the barn at Fir Garth? Remember it?”

“Yes, of course.” How could she forget? Jack’s father had the stone walls plastered and painted, and the earth floor covered with wooden flooring. They’d often used it as an impromptu meeting place for their group of teenage friends. She shook her head. “But we couldn’t possibly—”

“Why not?” Sam frowned. “Abbey, if we don’t find somewhere to meet, the drama club is going to fold.”

He was right, and it wouldn’t be fair to the teenagers to turn down Jack’s offer because of her personal issues with him.

“Are you sure?” she asked Jack.

He nodded. “Sam said you meet on Tuesday evening, so I’ll check it out tomorrow. There’s probably some junk I need to move but I’m sure I can clear enough space for a dozen teenagers.”

“Cool!” Sam beamed. “We can tell the others tonight.” He turned to Jack again. “You must come, too, Jack, and tell them what we talked about last night.”

“Well, if you think it would be useful—and if Abbey has no objections?”

“Of course she hasn’t,” Sam replied. “You haven’t, have you, Abbey?”

Abbey managed to smile at him. “No—no, of course not.”

Sam grinned. “That’s great. Thanks, Jack.”

As he shot off to greet more of his friends, Abbey watched him, rather than face Jack again.

“
Do
you have any objections?” he said.

She half-turned to him. “No. It—it’s very good of you to offer the barn, and Sam’s obviously interested in your ideas. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go and give Sally a hand.”

She turned away and crossed the room to where Sally was putting baskets of bread rolls on the tables.

“I’m using you as my escape route,” she whispered. “Why on earth didn’t you tell me Jack was coming tonight?”

“Because you’d have made an excuse not to come.”

“Okay, I admit that, but give me something to do. I’ve told him I had to help you.”

Sally handed her two baskets of bread rolls. “You can put these on the tables.”

Once she’d deposited the baskets, Abbey followed Sally into the kitchen. “I’d started to think he’d left, especially when your mum said his car wasn’t at the house.”

“Evidently he’s been going down to Kendal each day. He told Mike he’s been doing some research at the Record Office.”

“Hope he’s not planning another article to upset everyone here.” Another thought crossed her mind, and she shot a panic-stricken glance at Sally. “You haven’t put us on the same table, have you?”

Sally grinned. “I was tempted, but no, I wouldn’t have done that without asking you. I’ve put you with Mum and Dad, and Michelle.”

Abbey blew out a relieved breath. “Thanks.”

Once they sat down for the meal, she relaxed a little. Jack was on the far side of the room with Sally and Mike, and she had her back to him. It helped her to forget about him and to concentrate on the conversation at the table. That helped her to forget, at least temporarily, the awkward situation into which Sam had unwittingly put her.

At the end of the meal, Alan, Sam’s father, moved to the middle of the room. She had to turn, as everyone did, but carefully avoided looking in Jack’s direction. She laughed at Alan’s witty speech about some of the events in Sam’s life, and smiled at the young man’s red face and his embarrassed grins at his friends.

When Alan started to tell a story about Sam falling off his sailing dinghy, her glance shot involuntarily toward Jack. His eyes met hers, and she was sure he was also remembering the time she’d fallen off his dinghy into the lake. He’d laughed so much as he tried to haul her aboard that he overbalanced and fell into the water beside her.

As their eyes held in the shared memory, and he grinned, a quiver of warm pleasure coursed through her. For a few long moments, they seemed to be the only people in the room.

Self-consciously, she tore her gaze away, certain that everyone could hear her heart hammering in her chest and see the flush that heated her cheeks. After that, she forced herself not to look at him at all.

CHAPTER 6

Jack sighed. He was sure Abbey had remembered the time when they both fell off his dinghy, but when she averted her eyes, he knew she’d put the barriers around herself again. Barriers against him.

Coming back to Rusthwaite had been a gamble but hadn’t been as bad as he’d feared. A few people cold-shouldered him, and in the grocery store one morning Dolly Garside glared at him, but at least she didn’t lay into him with her sharp tongue. Tonight, although he sensed some reticence from one or two people, everyone else was friendly and welcoming. Except for the person whose friendship he valued the most.

Had he been right to offer the barn for her drama club and accept Sam’s invitation to the meeting on Tuesday night? It had been an unpremeditated suggestion, but maybe it stemmed from his inner longing to find some way of bridging the gulf between himself and Abbey.

As everyone started to move at the end of Sam’s brief speech of thanks to his guests, he glanced across at Abbey again, but she’d turned to talk to Jeannie.

Mike nudged his arm. “Coming for a pint, Jack?”

He grinned. “I thought you’d never ask.”

He followed Mike and a couple of others into the lounge bar which was crowded.

“Caravan’s season’s started again,” Mike said. “Everyone’s back here opening up their vans after the winter.”

“Good start for them,” joked one of the other men. “Welcome to wet Lakeland. The ground’s sodden after all this rain. I’ve seen a few of them squelching through the mud on the caravan site.”

The relief manager served them their pints, and they stood at the bar, chatting about a myriad of topics, from the pig which had escaped and caused havoc running along the main street to the new law about speed boats on Windermere.

Jack relaxed. This was the village he remembered. A far cry from the exotic places he’d visited in the last few years, and light years from the bars and grills of Los Angeles. This was home.

As he lifted his pint of beer, someone jostled his arm, and some beer splashed down his shirt. He brushed it off with his fingers and glanced over his shoulder.

“Oh,
very
sorry,” Nathan Garside said.

The sarcasm in his tone told Jack the nudge had been deliberate. He’d known Nathan most of his life but they’d never been friends. As the only son of one of the oldest families in the area, Nathan had always been smug and arrogant, and they’d come to blows several times when they were kids. Despite his education at an exclusive private school, Nathan had failed his exams, and Jack suspected he only obtained his job at the local radio station through the influence of his father, the wealthy owner of a papermaking mill near Kendal.

He nodded briefly at the other man, whose close-cropped brown hair made his long lean face seem even more angular. “No problem, Nathan.”

“No problem? Seems to me that you’re the big problem around here.”

“Jack, ignore him, he’s had one too many,” Mike said.

“It’s okay, I can handle this.” Jack turned again to Nathan. “I’m a problem, am I? Care to tell me why?”

Nathan guffawed. “Sure, I’ll tell you why. You think you’re better than the rest of us here. Just because you went to university, you think you can tell us how we ought to do things. You don’t give a shit about this area’s heritage.”

Nathan was obviously quoting his mother, the formidable Dolly, and Jack suppressed a grin. “Do you, Nathan?”

The other man frowned. “Do I what?”

“Care about this area’s heritage?”

“Yeah, ’course I do.”

“Because your mother was up in arms about what I wrote?”

“Nothing to do with my mother. You betrayed the whole village with your article about providing everything for tourists.”

“You don’t think tourists are vital to this area’s economy?”

“Tourists—huh! Who needs ’em?”

Another voice broke in. “Most people in this village need them, Nathan.”

Jack turned. He hadn’t realised Abbey had come into the bar. She stood with Sally, and her green eyes flashed dangerously.

“All the shops depend on tourists,” she went on. “And the cafés, too.”

“And the pubs,” Sally added. “You’re talking through your hat, Nathan.”

“Yeah?” Nathan shrugged. “What about all the tourists who buy second homes here and leave ’em empty most of the time?”

“That’s a different issue and anyway, it doesn’t happen as much as it used to,” Abbey replied. “Most estate agents now advertise many houses for local occupancy only.”

“What does that mean?” Jack asked. “I saw it several times in the property pages in this week’s
Chronicle
.”

She turned to him. “The houses are only available to people who work locally, or who have lived here permanently for over three years.”

He nodded. “Okay, that’s a good policy.”

“You’ve changed your tune,” Nathan scoffed. “Thought you were all for the tourists and to hell with the locals.”

Jack turned back to him. “Isn’t tourism a way of protecting the local population, Nathan?”

“At the expense of preserving our historical buildings? The gatehouse would have fallen down by now if it hadn’t been for the efforts of my mother and a lot of people here. The funding was withdrawn because of
your
article. How are you going to explain that?”

Jack hadn’t expected to be put on the spot, but he glanced around at the expectant faces in the bar.

“Yeah, Jack,” Nathan’s mate, Gordon, challenged him. “What’s your explanation?”

* * * * *

Abbey was well aware Nathan Garside was being deliberately provocative. For as long as she could remember, he’d been a pompous ass who sneered at everyone simply because they weren’t as rich or influential as his own family.

She watched Jack take another mouthful of his beer, and held her breath. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, compressed his lips, and fixed Nathan with an impassive stare. She suppressed a smile. It was the mannerism she remembered well. Jack, calm and deliberate in the face of provocation, was considering his answer carefully.

When he spoke again, his voice was measured and even. “What exactly are you asking me to explain? Why I wrote the article? Was I aiming to get the gatehouse funding withdrawn? What are my views about preserving Lakeland’s heritage? Do I consider tourists to be more important than locals? Or vice versa? Tell me what you want me to explain, and I’ll do my best to give you an answer.”

“Oh, stop splitting hairs,” Nathan sneered. “We all know the problems your damned article caused.”

A woman’s voice broke in. “Those problems gave people here the opportunity to work together in a way they hadn’t done for years.”

Abbey, and everyone else, turned to Jeannie.

The older woman went on, “Which all goes to show that good can come out of what appears to be a disaster at the time. I think that’s what we should all remember, and not cross-examine Jack about something which happened a long time ago. Come on, folks, we’ve had an enjoyable evening so far. Let’s not spoil everything now with petty squabbles.”

Abbey leaned to whisper in Sally’s ear. “Your Mum always was the peacemaker when she and your Dad ran the pub.”

Sally nodded. “She’s the family peacemaker, too. Sees every side to a problem.”

“I still want an answer,” Nathan persisted.

Mike stepped forward. “You heard what Jeannie said, Nathan. End it now, unless you want me to tell you to leave.”

Nathan turned sulkily back to his companion and muttered something. Abbey guessed it was probably a derogatory comment about Jack.

As the crowd around the bar began to disperse, she and Sally took their drinks to one of the tables at the side of the lounge.

“Your Mum was right,” she said. “About people here working together, I mean. I’d never thought about that.”

Sally grinned. “So should people here be thanking Jack, instead of criticising him?”

Abbey sipped her wine thoughtfully. Jack was still standing by the bar talking to Mike, and she wondered what he would have gone on to say if Jeannie hadn’t intervened.

Turning to Sally again, she went on, “The other night, he said when he wrote the article, he believed more money needed to be poured into tourism.”

“When he wrote it? Does he not think the same now?”

“I don’t know. I said there should be a balance between tourists and local interests, and he agreed.”

“Wonder why he’s changed his mind?” Sally glanced toward the bar. “Oh, seems you’ll have a chance to ask him. He and Mike are coming across here now.”

Abbey followed her glance to where Mike was saying something to Jack. As she tightened one hand around the other in involuntary tension, she couldn’t decide whether she wanted Jack to join them, or if she was dreading him doing that. She soon had her answer. Jack shook his head, downed the rest of his drink, and raised his hand in a farewell gesture to Mike. Disappointment trickled through her as she watched him leave the pub.

So be it, he didn’t want to talk to her. Not that she could blame him. First their spat on the valley road, followed by her deliberate coolness earlier in the evening. Those few moments when their eyes had met during Alan’s speech had brought back memories of their close friendship, but that friendship no longer existed.

Anxious to divert the conversation away from Jack, she turned to Sally again. “Where’s Sam? Have he and his friends gone off somewhere?”

“They’re in the games room with the CD player on full blast. Good job it’s in the old stable block across the yard otherwise we’d all be deafened by now.”

Mike sat down beside Sally, and their conversation continued on a general level, with no mention of the earlier argument.

At the end of the evening, Abbey walked through the village with Jeannie, who had lived in another of the houses at Eagle Croft ever since she and Alan retired to let Mike and Sally manage the pub.

“Don’t know what it is about that Nathan Garside,” Jeannie said. “He always seems to go out of his way to provoke people.”

Abbey nodded. “He’s done that for as long as I’ve known him.”

“But he’s canny. He never went far enough for Alan to bar him from the pub. Or Mike, either.”

“His mother was sure Mike would bar Jack,” Abbey said, thinking back to Dolly Garside’s comment in the shop the previous week. She turned curiously to the older woman. “Jeannie, were you trying to keep the peace tonight, or did you mean it about something good coming out of what seemed to be bad?”

“I meant it, because it’s true.”

“And yet you were as incensed as everyone when Jack’s article first appeared.”

“Aye, we were all angry at the time, because it seemed to be a direct attack on the village. If he’d written about this area being dependent on the tourist trade, no one would have argued with him, but he made a specific reference to spending money on—what did he call it? A heap of old stones? And he must have known the parish council had applied for funds to restore the gatehouse. That’s why we were all riled up, and even more so when the application was refused.”

“What about now?” Abbey asked.

“Sometimes you have to let go of the past and move on.”

“And you think most people feel the same?”

Jeannie laughed. “I’m sure Dolly doesn’t, and there are others who won’t forgive him.”

“You mean my mum?”

“Your mum knew Jack had hurt you badly, and she was angry with him. Mums don’t like seeing their kids getting hurt, you know. All the business over the gatehouse gave her an outlet to vent her anger.”

Abbey raised surprised eyebrows. “I never thought of that.” She gave a short laugh. “And this is the second time tonight that you’ve said something I hadn’t thought about before.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, when you talked about people working together. You were right. The whole village joined in with all the fundraising activities.”

Jeannie laughed. “We didn’t have much option with Dolly Garside organising us all.” They paused when they reached Eagle Croft, and she patted Abbey’s arm. “Remember, Abbey, when you find a way to let go of the past, it ceases to have the power to hurt you.”

Abbey gave her a weak smile. “Okay, I’ll remember. ’Night, Jeannie.”

She continued home, and sat for a long time at the kitchen table, her hands wrapped around a mug of hot chocolate. The evening’s events crowded into her mind, but she couldn’t clarify her thoughts or sort out her confused feelings. All she knew was that they centred on Jack. Eventually, with a deep sigh, she stood up. There was no point going around in circles any longer. She’d think about it tomorrow.

On Sunday morning, over breakfast, she told her mother about Sam’s party and about Alan’s speech. Deliberately she didn’t mention that Jack had also been there or anything about the argument in the pub. She balked, too, at making any comment about using the barn at Fir Garth for their drama club meeting.

Jeannie’s words came back to her:
All the business over the gatehouse gave her an outlet to vent her anger
. Her anger with Jack. Not solely because of the article, but because he’d hurt one of her children. She needed to tread very carefully with her mother as far as Jack was concerned.