A Summer of Secrets (19 page)

‘Candi,’ the girl cut in. ‘Short for Candice.’

‘Right.’ Joe nodded. ‘Um, sorry to interrupt, but Alison offered me a drink.’

‘She’s just gone upstairs to change,’ the girl said. ‘But there’s some fresh orange juice in the fridge if you’d like some.’

‘Lovely, thanks.’

‘Come and sit down, Joe,’ instructed Bethany, a smudge of flour on the tip of her tiny nose. ‘Candi and I are making animal-shaped biscuits. They’ll be ready in a minute. You can have one if you like.’

‘I can recommend the pig,’ the older girl giggled, handing him a tall glass of juice before slipping on an oven glove, heading to the oven, and removing the tray of golden biscuits. She set them on a cooling tray on the table next to Bethany.

‘Wow, they look good,’ remarked Joe.

‘They’ll look even better when we’ve decorated them,’ gushed Bethany. ‘Wait until you see what I’m going to do with the cow.’

‘I can’t wait,’ said Joe, sliding into the seat opposite the one Candi had resumed. ‘They look delicious.’ He turned his attention back to the visitor. ‘Look, I might be wrong, but don’t I know you from somewhere?’

She nodded. ‘Jeans.’

Jeans?
Joe wrinkled his forehead.

‘You came into the shop in Harrogate where I work and I bombarded you with questions about what type of jeans you’d like.’

‘Of course.’ The penny dropped. It had been the same day he’d bumped into Gina and Karen. The day his head had been all over the place. God. She must think he was a complete loser. ‘Look, I’m really sorry if I came across as a bit of a numpty,’ he explained. ‘Very bad day, that day.’

Candi giggled. ‘No,
I’m
sorry. It’s a nightmare when anyone wants to buy jeans. If you come in for a pair of socks, I can assure you it’s a much easier process.’

Joe laughed. ‘That’s a relief. I’ll bear it in mind.’

‘Oh, no,’ wailed Bethany. ‘All the chocolate buttons I’ve put on the cow to make splodges, have melted. Now it looks like a great big cow pat.’

At which point all three of them burst out laughing.

Having enjoyed his refreshment break at the Stevens’, Joe finished his round, then headed home to smarten up before making his way over to Karen’s house for tea.

His nerves had steadily increased throughout the day, keeping pace with his excitement level. Having no idea how to handle this developing situation, he’d decided to trust his instincts. And his instincts today told him to buy Gina a lovely bunch of flowers, and Charlie a soft toy Gruffalo. But, standing outside Karen’s front door, bearing his gifts, he wondered, as he pressed the doorbell, if he’d got ahead of himself. After all, Charlie still only knew him as “a friend” of Gina’s. And he and Gina were … well … he had no idea what they were at this stage. Before he could change his mind and toss the presents back into the van, however, a beaming Karen opened the door.

‘Hello, you. It’s nice to see you again.’

Joe beamed back at her. ‘And you. Thanks for letting me come over again.’

‘You’re welcome here any time,’ she said, gesturing for him to enter. ‘Always have been and always will be.’

‘Joe!’

Before Joe could catch his breath, Charlie barrelled into him. ‘Will you play snakes and ladders with me?’

‘Let Joe come in first,’ chided Karen. ‘And you can play snakes and ladders after tea. It’s nearly ready.’

Charlie blew out an exasperated breath. ‘Oh, okay, then. But at least let me show him my multi-storey garage.’

Joe laughed, every inch of him aching to scoop up his son, bury his nose in his dark curls, and breathe in the scent of him. But he couldn’t. Not least of all because he still held the flowers and the bag containing the Gruffalo.

‘I, er, brought these for Gina.’ He handed the flowers to Karen.

She smiled again. ‘How lovely. You always were so thoughtful.’ Then, an edge creeping into her voice, she added: ‘Gina’s in the conservatory on the phone. I’m sure she won’t be long. Why don’t you and Charlie go through to the living room while I finish making tea?’

Charlie needed no further encouragement. ‘Come on,’ he instructed, grabbing Joe’s hand and tugging him in the direction of the lounge. ‘My garage is in here.’

Relishing the physical contact with his son, Joe allowed himself to be pulled into the room, where he presented a delighted Charlie with his gift. As the child busied himself unpacking it, Joe observed Gina in the conservatory, which led directly off from the lounge, the two spaces separated by sliding glass doors. Curled up on a sofa there, legs tucked beneath her, phone under her chin, she raised her hand in greeting, before roaring with laughter at something the person on the other end of the line had evidently said.

Joe played with Charlie for another twenty minutes, all the while listening to the intermittent cackles of laughter from the conservatory.

‘Tea’s ready,’ announced Karen, appearing from the kitchen. ‘Toad in the hole.’

‘My favourite,’ said Joe.

‘Mine, too,’ said Charlie.

‘I thought your favourite was beans on toast.’

Charlie rolled his eyes. ‘That was yesterday, Grandma. Today my favourite is toad in the hole. What is toad in the hole again?’

They took their seats around the table – Charlie on his booster seat, Karen alongside him. Joe facing the seat he assumed would be Gina’s, once she finished her call.

‘I’m sure she won’t be much longer,’ Karen said, serving Joe an extra sausage.

‘Mummy’s always on the phone,’ Charlie piped up.

‘It’s the girls from the hairdresser’s where she works,’ Karen explained. ‘They’re a bit of a … lively bunch.’

Joe nodded, sensing something in her tone that suggested she wasn’t too enamoured with these girls from Gina’s work.

They finished their meal. Without Gina.

‘She can heat some up later.
If
she ever gets off the phone,’ Karen huffed, as Joe helped clear the table. The task completed, she then turned her attention to Charlie. ‘Right, little fella. It’s time for your bath.’

‘Oh, no,’ he groaned. ‘Do I really, really have to?’

‘I’m afraid you really, really do. Now, would you like Joe to come up? You can show him your pirate boat?’

The child’s eyes grew wide. ‘Can I?’

‘You can once I’ve run the bath.’

Joe had a brilliant time bathing Charlie, and Karen even let him put the child to bed and read him a story. When Charlie fell asleep after only three pages, Joe made his way downstairs to find Karen tidying the kitchen and Gina still in the conservatory on the phone.

‘I’d best be off,’ he said. ‘Thanks so much for this evening. It was great.’

Karen smiled at him. ‘My pleasure. Look, I’m sorry about Gina. I’ll tell her you’re going.’

With Joe following behind, she marched into the living room, strode over to the glass doors and thrust one open. ‘Joe is leaving now,’ she announced coolly.

Gina pulled a rueful expression. ‘I’ll call you back in a bit, hun,’ she said to whoever was on the end of the phone.

She hopped out of the conservatory. ‘God, I’m really sorry, Joe. I had no idea I’d been on the phone for so long. It’s Nat – from work. She’s having a crisis. Men trouble and all that.’

‘Right,’ muttered Joe, not quite knowing where to look. Her tiny sundress barely covered her breasts and skimmed the tops of her smooth thighs. If he hadn’t been so miffed at her, he would’ve experienced great difficulty resisting the urge to pull her to him and kiss her senseless. ‘Well, I, er, hope she gets sorted.’

‘Thanks.’

His eyes still clamped on hers, Joe’s head began to swim. ‘Well, I’d, er, best be off,’ he stuttered at length.

She smiled at him. ‘Thanks again for coming. I’ll call you.’

He nodded, bid goodnight to Karen, then climbed into his van.

Driving home, a strange mix of emotions whirled about him. The time he’d spent with Charlie had, yet again, been completely amazing; precious; irreplaceable. But Gina? She’d all but ignored him. Shunned him for a friend – a work colleague – who she probably saw most days anyway. But then again, what had he expected? That she’d put her life on hold waiting for him to reappear? Of course she hadn’t. In the two years they’d been apart, she’d made a new life for herself. Just as he had. She’d made new friends, developed new interests. Just as he had. And, let’s face it, her interests were far more innocuous than his. He was, after all, shagging a large proportion of Buttersley’s female population. Which led him to conclude that he was overreacting. If this friend of hers was having a crisis, he couldn’t expect Gina to abandon her just because he’d turned up. No, he should try not to analyse things so much; go with the flow a bit more.

A yawn escaped him. God. He was shattered.

He flicked on the radio. To hear James Blunt’s dulcet tones. He flicked it off again.

He wasn’t in the mood for anything mawkish. Indeed, he felt so odd, he had no idea what he was in the mood for. Slowing down at a junction, he noticed the herd of cows in the field opposite. His mind reeled back to the Stevens’ kitchen earlier that day, when Bethany and her half-sister – what was she called again? Candice? – were making their biscuits. Just thinking about it caused him to smile.

Even though it now seemed a million light years ago.

***

The issue of how to raise the cash to save Buttersley Manor had Portia’s head spinning with more velocity than a souped-up helicopter propeller. Not an inch of space remained within a mile of her cerebral region to permit thoughts of anything else. Or so she would have sworn.

Until images of Jed Carr began rudely interrupting proceedings.

Completely ludicrous given she a) had no time for a relationship, and b) really didn’t want one. And certainly not with a man like that. Not one thing about him fitted into the mould of her usual “type” of dark, brooding and sophisticated. Men with innate class, who would rather catch the bus than drive anything as naff as a Porsche.

That being said, she had to admit that there hadn’t been much of any “type” in her life for a while. Not since she’d split with Miles a couple of years ago. On the surface, Miles had been her perfect man – handsome, cultured, successful. And so wrapped up in himself he’d made an Egyptian mummy appear magnanimous. After he’d forgotten her birthday for the second year running, Portia had had enough.

And there’d been no one else since. A situation she really hadn’t dwelled on much. She was perfectly happy on her own; perfectly capable of looking after herself. She didn’t need a man in her life. And certainly not one reeking of new money like Mr Jed Carr, Property Developer, who no doubt measured his success by the size of his plasma-screen TV. He might be reasonably attractive, know how to change a tyre, and like Bach, but it would take much more than that to peak Portia’s interest.

Not that her interest required peaking. She had the much more important matter of how to keep Buttersley Manor in the family to deal with, and she refused to be sidetracked by frivolous details like how to return Jed’s jacket to him. She had no idea where he lived so, if he wanted it back, he’d have to come to her.

In the meantime, it would remain over the back of the chair.

In her bedroom.

Right next to her bed.

***

Jed was ever so slightly chuffed. His mum had loved her birthday presents so much, it had brought a tear to his eye. Whoever claimed that giving was better than receiving had certainly been right in this case. And nobody deserved to receive more, in his opinion, than his mother.

The hot tub, of course, although she’d raved over it, had been something of a flash gesture. Alongside that, Jed had wanted to buy her something more personal, something less ostentatious. Strangely enough, though, before he’d bumped into Portia Pinkington-Smythe and her flat tyre that day in Harrogate, he hadn’t had a clue what that something should be. But the whole sexy, feminine package that constituted Portia – that gorgeous face, those endless legs, that cute bum – had made him think of roses and silk. Precisely why he’d decided to buy his mum a beautiful cashmere pashmina in a deep rose-pink.

In fact, so inspired had Jed been after spending that short time with Portia in the car park that he’d totally forgotten he’d left his jacket in her car. A fact he only realised when it began to rain. Well, he hadn’t had it two minutes and it had cost a fortune, so he’d have to go and retrieve it.

And quite why that prospect made him a little giddy, he had absolutely no idea.

Chapter Fifteen

‘A
dog
? But … what on earth possessed you?’

Having bumped into Len during her Wednesday afternoon shopping trip, Jenny felt a stab of irritation. She had no idea what had possessed her, but she wasn’t going to admit that to him. He’d probably never made a rash decision in his life. And certainly not one he’d ever lived to regret. ‘She’s lovely,’ she informed him stoutly. ‘And she needed a home.’

Although, in truth, “lovely” was not an adjective Jenny would apply to Harriet. “Indifferent” would be more apt. While Jenny harboured visions of them becoming firm friends, forming an impenetrable wall against the enemy known as Phyllis, Harriet had other ideas. Namely that she couldn’t be bothered. With anything. Not once, despite the creative meals Jenny served her, or the interesting walks she’d dragged her along on, or the mountain of toys she’d invested in, had Harriet shown the slightest flicker of interest. Or the slightest hint of a tail wag.

‘And they smell,’ Len added.

‘Harriet doesn’t,’ Jenny countered. Although, again, that wasn’t strictly true. She did smell, a bit, despite the daily showers Jenny administered, with extortionately priced special dog shampoo.

Len didn’t look convinced. ‘Well, how about you bring her out with you so I can meet her? We could go for another walk, if you like, around the village again. In fact, I’m not doing anything this evening. If you’re free.’

If she was free? Huh. When was she ever anything else? ‘Okay,’ Jenny replied, determined not to sound overly keen. ‘That sounds good. I’d be taking her for a walk this evening anyway, so how about we meet you back here around seven?’