Forty Things to Do Before You're Forty (20 page)

‘I don't believe it,' gasped Portia. ‘How dare he turn up like that? I hope you've told him where to go.'

‘As tempted as I've been, I actually haven't,' said Annie. ‘I'm trying to be nice for Sophie's sake. So she gets used to him being around. Not that she seems remotely interested in him. In fact, she seems positively miserable whenever he's here.'

‘Sensible girl. Obviously knows he's pond life.'

‘But he's still her father,' countered Annie. ‘And now I feel bad that I haven't given them a real chance to get to know one another. Whenever I've arranged to meet him in London, it's always been somewhere with loads of people.'

‘Only because you've wanted to diffuse a potentially awkward situation.'

‘I know. But it doesn't help the fact that they've never really bonded.'

‘And whose fault it that? Certainly not yours. You're not the one who ran off to Japan.'

‘Well, anyway,' sighed Annie. ‘I'm trying not to make a big deal of it and am hoping things will settle into some kind of routine.'

‘You shouldn't make yourself so available. He can't just turn up and expect to pick up where you left off. Why don't you pretend you're having a mad passionate affair with that dishy mate of Jasper's?'

At the reference to Jake, Annie's heart skipped a beat. She hadn't said anything to Portia about her feelings for Jake. And now certainly wasn't the time. Lance turning up was enough to deal with. ‘Jake's gone back to Scotland,' she said, in what she hoped was a neutral tone. ‘He had some … urgent business there.'

‘Shame,' huffed Portia. ‘I had high hopes for him.'

Not half as high as I did
, Annie almost added.

The following evening found Lance in a particularly animated mood. Annie and Sophie were at the kitchen table colouring in when he bounded in through the open door wearing turquoise jeans and a Hawaiian type shirt.

‘I've some great news, girls,' he announced.

So taken aback was Annie by the shirt that at first she couldn't reply. She made a mental note to Google men's fashions. Perhaps it was just her who thought Lance looked like a trussed up Christmas tree. Sophie, though, appeared equally dumbfounded – if not on the verge of tears.

‘What's this great news then?' asked Annie, regaining something of her equilibrium, and resuming her rummaging in the crayon tin.

Lance steepled his hands in front of him. ‘My boss is coming over from Japan on Sunday the twelfth and would like to take us all out for the day.'

Annie snapped up her head to him. ‘What? As in us as a family?'

Lance beamed at her. ‘Of course. We are a family, aren't we? And they're very keen on that in Japan, you know. All the board members are big family men and–' He broke off, the guilty pink tinge over his yellow cheeks turning him a strange shade of tangerine.

A rather large metaphorical penny dropped with an almighty clang, right next to Annie.

‘I see,' she mused innocently. ‘And I don't suppose all these board members being Big Family Men has anything to do with your sudden appearance in Buttersley?'

Lance gave a hollow laugh. ‘Of course not. Don't be silly.'

Annie pinned him with her gaze for several seconds, enjoying his evident discomfiture.

‘Well, it's a real shame, Lance, but I'm afraid you'll have to count us out. The twelfth is the day of my race.'

Lance's jaw dropped. ‘Your race? But surely you can miss that, Annie. This is much more important.'

‘Not to me it isn't.'

She watched out the corner of her eye as Lance shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, clearly wondering what to say next.

‘There'll be other races, Annie, but there might never be another opportunity for me to–'

Annie leaned back in her chair, crossed her arms over her chest and lifted her eyebrows. ‘Another opportunity for you to what?'

He diverted his gaze from hers and ran a hand through his hair. ‘Thing is, there's another guy in the running for the board as well as me and–'

‘–and don't tell me.' Annie placed her forefinger on her chin and raised her eyes to the ceiling as if giving the matter a great deal of consideration. ‘He's married with children.'

Lance's jaw dropped. ‘Well, actually he is, but … but that's neither here nor there.'

‘Isn't it?'

‘No, it isn't Annie. And I don't know what point you're trying to make here.'

‘Oh, I think you do. But please carry on.'

Lance cleared his throat and contorted his lips into what passed for a smile. He addressed his next comment directly to Sophie. ‘And if Daddy does get appointed to the board, we can all go and live in Japan.'

A wave of horror settled over Sophie's face. ‘But I don't want to live in Japan.'

Annie glowered at Lance before turning her attention to her daughter. ‘Don't worry, sweetheart. We will not be going to Japan. Now, why don't you go and play in the garden for a few minutes. There are a few things I'd like to say to Daddy in private.'

The moment Lance left – bearing strict instructions never to return – Annie sat Sophie down and had The Talk, the outcome being that they were both much happier without Lance. No amount of cutting comments from Thomas Mullen, or trips to Disneyland were worth having their private space invaded.

Annie was only glad she'd ferretted out the real reason for his visit so quickly. She had suspected an ulterior motive the moment she set eyes on him. Lance might think he was one step ahead, but he was as transparent as a newly-cleaned window. And while the notion of him conspiring to use his daughter for his own career ends incensed her, she wasn't surprised. Lance hadn't changed one jot. Although no, actually he had changed. He was even more selfish and up his own backside than ever.

Despite her raging fury though, Annie hadn't voiced any of the above to Sophie. Whatever his faults – and the list multiplied daily – Lance was still the child's father and Annie didn't intend cutting him out altogether. When Sophie was ready which, she anticipated, might not be for a long while yet, she would arrange a meeting with Lance in another place crammed with people and distractions.

*

Since agreeing to the film deal, Jake had been swept along in a whirlwind of activity. The stream of interviews, meetings and photo shoots Tanya had set up seemed never-ending. Indeed, when the first cogs of the well-oiled marketing machine creaked into action, Jake had almost changed his mind. It had all seemed so terrifyingly daunting, not to mention unnecessary. Gradually, though, he was conquering his nerves, beginning to relax and, although he could never imagine enjoying the attention, at least he'd stopped waking up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat. The thing that really kept him focused though, was the contract he'd signed – the contract for an obscene amount of money – which stated that all payments, profits and royalties were to be paid directly to the Sri Lankan foundation. With the exception of Nina's delighted parents, there was only one other person with whom Jake would have liked to have shared his news. But that person was miles away in Yorkshire and probably wouldn't be one bit interested.

Arriving back from London a couple of days later, Jake was exhausted. Another thirty-six hours in the capital had taken its toll. He must be getting old. Goodness only knew how he was going to feel when all the publicity went live next week. He was too tired to think about that right now. All he wanted to do was hide away in his cottage for a few days. Pretend none of this madness was happening.

He'd been in the house a couple of hours and was halfway down the stairs after taking a shower, when the post landed with a thud on the mat. Not in the mood for bills or flyers, Jake was about to ignore it, when something caught his eye. An envelope addressed in a child's handwriting. His heart skipped a beat. The only child he knew was Sophie Richards, but surely it couldn't be from her. He picked up the envelope. It was postmarked Buttersley. A wave of nausea washed over him. It must be bad news. It had to be. Why else would Sophie Richards be writing to him?

He carried the envelope through to the lounge and sank down on the sofa, his heart now thundering. If it was bad news … if something had happened to Annie … he wouldn't be able to bear it. He'd already lost one woman he loved. He certainly didn't want to lose another. He sank back against the cushions, his head whirring. He loved Annie Richards. And, now that he came to think of it, he had done for some time. Perhaps even from the first day he'd seen her, when she'd been wearing that ridiculous armour helmet. Of course he'd known he'd had feelings for her, knew she encroached on his thoughts at all hours of the day and night. But it had taken the possibility that something awful might have happened to her for him to realise the true extent of his feelings.

He held his breath as he tore open the envelope, praying his instincts were wrong.

Annie added the final finishing touch to the wedding cake, before stepping back and running a critical eye over it. Not that she could see anything to criticise. Even if she said so herself, it looked stunning – a four foot cascade of sugar-paste wildflowers, exactly how she'd imagined it. It had been every bit as challenging as she'd imagined too. But she wasn't complaining. She'd learned heaps as she'd gone along, was set to make a healthy profit and, given the cake's originality, was virtually assured of several spin-off orders. Orders from other brides-to-be, wanting her cakes to form part of their Special Day. Did that put her in the same category as ‘always the bridesmaid, never the bride'? She heaved a heavy sigh and suspected it might.

Annie had never really thought about being a bride before but, looking at the magnificent cake, she couldn't help wonder how it must feel to have someone love you enough to want to spend the rest of their lives with you. And how amazing it must be to find someone you loved enough to want to share the rest of your life with. She'd thought that person might be Lance, once. Thankfully his true colours had shone through before she'd wasted too many years on him. But was there someone else out there for her? Waiting in the wings until fate ushered them centre stage? Her thoughts drifted to Jake. But before they could loiter there, Annie deftly reined them back in.

CHAPTER TWELVE

The following morning Annie awoke early to the sun peeping through the curtains and the birds exercising their vocal chords. It took just seconds for the significance of the day to hit her: today was the day of her race. Panic and excitement began coursing through her veins. Panic that she might be the slowest person in living history to complete a 10k, and excitement that she might not. She leaped out of bed, prepared to face the challenge ahead.

The starting and finishing point for the race was the meadow where the village fair had been held. Annie decided to walk down in the hope it might calm her jangling nerves. It didn't. By the time she arrived, the meadow was already swarming with activity – runners, in a rainbow of fluorescent Lycra performing warm-up stretches; legs of varying lengths and strengths jogging on the spot; green-bibbed volunteers scurrying around with bottles of water; plus a rabble of supporters, two of whom looked decidedly pleased with themselves as they marched over to her, each carrying what looked suspiciously like a homemade banner.

‘What do you think?' They unfurled their efforts and held them up. Harriet's said ‘Go Annie Go'. Jenny's ‘Annie Get Your Gun'.

Annie burst out laughing. ‘You're not serious.'

Jenny looked slightly affronted. ‘Of course we are. We thought they might spur you on.'

‘I'm sure they will,' said Annie, with a twinge of guilt. ‘But you really didn't have to go to all that trouble. A few words of encouragement as I passed would have been enough.'

‘There wouldn't be time,' pointed out Harriet. ‘You'll be nothing but a streak of pink and black as you zip past us.'

Annie laughed again. ‘I'm not sure about the “zipping” bit, but as long as I–'

‘Will all runners please proceed to the starting line,' interjected a male voice over the loudspeaker.

Annie grimaced. ‘Well, I guess that's me.'

‘You go and show them what you're made of,' said Harriet.

‘At this particular moment it feels like blancmange. Remind me why I thought this was a good idea again.'

‘Character building.'

‘Does my character really need building that much?'

‘Yes. Now stop dithering and go.'

The first mile was the worst but once she got into her stride, Annie loved the whole experience. Of course the atmosphere helped. Dozens of fervent, morale-boosting supporters lined the route, waving flags and banners. She passed Jenny and Harriet three times, as they darted around the route, using various shortcuts.

In what seemed like no time at all, Annie crossed the finish line. The realisation that not only had she completed the race, but she'd done so in well under her anticipated time, caused a massive surge of adrenalin to pulse through her. She almost felt like she was flying. Which, indeed, she was. Having somehow tripped over her own foot, she was about to land flat on the ground, when a pair of strong arms reached out and caught her. A pair of strong arms she had been in once before, under quite different circumstances.

‘Well,' said Jake, setting her upright. ‘That wasn't quite the reception I'd envisaged, but you were brilliant, Annie. Really brilliant. Even that little stumble was spectacular.'

As she looked into his twinkling dark eyes, Annie thought she must be dreaming. Either that or she'd suffered a coronary and died on the spot. Sophie tugging on her arm brought her back to reality.

‘Well done, Mum. You were great.'

Annie's body might have stopped racing, but her brain had taken over – with a raft of questions. Namely, what was Sophie doing here when Annie had dropped her at Jessica's house earlier? And what was Jake Sinclair doing here when he was supposed to be hundreds of miles away in Scotland?