Fragrance of Violets (4 page)

“And Louise and Ellie? Where are they now?”

“Louise flits from job to job, and from boyfriend to boyfriend. She was married when she was twenty but divorced him three years later. Ellie finished university last year and is backpacking around the world.”

“And your father?”

Abbey stared at him. That wasn’t a casual pleasantry. Jack knew exactly how she felt about her father. “I haven’t seen him for years,” she said, averting her gaze from those penetrating blue eyes.

“You haven’t made your peace with him?”

“No.” Resolutely, she met his eyes again and forced a smile. “How are your parents?” She could steer a conversation equally as well as he could.

His eyebrows lifted slightly, but he returned her smile. “They’re doing okay. They love life in France and will probably retire there eventually.”

That put paid to her hope that he might have home temporarily to prepare the house for his parents’ return. “May I ask you the same question you asked me earlier?”

“What question was that?”

“Why have
you
come back to Rusthwaite after all these years?”

Jack swirled his drink and took another long mouthful before he replied. “My fiancée was killed two months ago, in a pile-up on the freeway in Los Angeles.”

CHAPTER 4

Abbey stared at him until she finally found her voice. “Oh God, Jack, I’m so sorry.” All the other issues between them seemed unimportant in the face of such a heart-breaking loss. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Possibly someday, but not now.”

“Okay.” Without thinking, she put her hand on his arm which rested on the bar and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I’m sorry, Jack,” she said again.

He nodded and gulped some more beer. “What about you?” He glanced down at her hand, and self-consciously she removed it from his arm. “No rings, so you’re not engaged or married?”

“No way.”

“No special man in your life?”

“No.” The word came out like a bullet, and she met his gaze with a stony glare, defying him to ask any more.

“Okay, we won’t go there.” He paused. “Tell me about your drama club.”

She relaxed again, relieved he’d opened another topic of conversation. “It’s quite small, about twelve teenagers. Remember Sally’s little brother, Sam? He’s fifteen now, and last Christmas he was complaining there was nothing for kids here to do over the winter. I suggested a drama club and he asked his friends. That’s how it started.”

“What do you do with them?”

“Mainly improvisation and role play. Some of them are good actors.”

“What happens to them when you go back to London?”

“I’ve no plans to do that at the moment.”

“Really? I thought you’d be in constant demand.”

Abbey feigned nonchalance. She didn’t intend to admit that her last audition had been unsuccessful. “Lulls happen in the business when you’re waiting for the right part to come up, so I decided to come back here for a while.” She peered around the lounge. “Nearly everyone’s left, and I ought to go home now.”

“Yeah, me too.” Jack drained his pint and put it on the counter. “Mind if I walk with you?”

“Oh!” She didn’t want to prolong their conversation, but it would be churlish to refuse. “Okay.”

Her nerves tightened as she moved around the bar to join him, and watched him reach across the counter to shake Mike’s hand. His boyish good looks had matured into a rugged handsomeness that caused her pulse to quicken.

As he held the door open for her, he gave her the quirky grin which reminded her of the teenage Jack, but this wasn’t the same boy. He was a stranger, a different person, and so was she. No longer the naïve trusting little soul she’d once been.

They set off along the main street and she kept her distance from him, walking a few feet away and listening to the echo of their footsteps. The darkness was illuminated only by the dim streetlights and the lights from some of the shop windows on both sides of the narrow street. The same street where they’d walked and run as kids, laughed together, bought drinks and crisps at the village grocery, stood talking outside the post office.

“What are—?” he started.

“I never thought—” she said at the same time.

They looked at each other.

“You first,” he said.

“I was thinking about how strange this is. Yesterday, if anyone had told me I would be walking through the village with you, I’d have—actually, I don’t know what I’d have done. Laughed? Told them they were crazy? I don’t know. That’s what I mean. It’s kind of surreal.”

“True. I had no idea you were here, you know. I assumed you’d be in London, or filming somewhere.”

Oh, if wishing made it so
, she was tempted to reply, but held onto her pride. She wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of being able to say he’d been right. “I’m enjoying life here at the moment.”

Even as she said it, she wondered what life would be like with Jack back in the village. Before today, it had been predictable and placid, but now?

As they walked, she was intensely aware of his physical nearness and his masculine scent, both of which were doing weird things to her. Part of her wanted to reach out and catch hold of his hand, as she used to do when they were kids. She often linked her arm through his when they strolled along the lake shore, or grabbed his arm to draw his attention to something, and even buried her head against his shoulder during a scary film at the cinema or on TV. But that was then and this was now, and she needed to suppress the inexplicable yearning that was both uncomfortable and disquieting.

“How long are you intending to be here?” she asked, keeping her voice casual.

“I’m not sure.”

In the dim light, she could see his lips had tightened and he was looking straight ahead of him. She matched his pace as they continued to walk.

“You told me earlier that I wasn’t welcome,” he said eventually. “And I understand the reason, but—”

“But what? Do you expect everyone to forgive and forget?”

“No. I realise why some people here won’t forgive me. Most of all you.”

She stiffened at the way he’d turned their conversation into their own personal issue. Determined to keep control of the situation, she gave a dismissive shrug. “That’s all in the past. A lifetime ago.”

“Is it? Good. So you’ve realised not all men are like your father?”

Irritation quickened her pulse. “Don’t bring my father into this. It’s nothing to do with him.”

“No? You’ve never forgiven him either, have you?”

“With good reason. He abandoned my mother with three young kids because he preferred his glamorous bimbos, and I lost count of how many times he let us down and lied to us.” She tossed back her hair. “No, I can’t ever forgive or forget what he did.”

“And you think men are all the same.”

“No, I don’t. I have a lot of men friends.”

“Yeah? And do you hold them all at arm’s length? Is friendship all you want? Not a relationship or any commitment, because you assume all men will behave in the same way as your father?”

She strode ahead. “I don’t have to listen to this.”

“Abbey—”

“What?” She glanced over her shoulder to where he’d stopped.

“Isn’t this your house?”

She halted a few yards past a large stone house on the main street. Of course, he didn’t know her mother had moved from her grandparents’ home, where they’d lived when she was in her teens.

“Not now.” Her anger dissipated a little as she explained. “Mum decided to downsize when we all left home. She bought one of the smaller houses near the edge of the village.”

“Oh, I see.” He caught up with her, and they walked on for a short time before he said, “I guess it was expecting too much to hope we could be friends again.”

Her heart jerked but she kept her tone neutral. “I think it’s too late for that, Jack.”

They continued in strained silence until they reached the semicircle of small stone houses known as Eagle Croft.

“This is where we live now,” she said.

“Well, goodnight, Abbey. I’ll probably see you around from time to time.”

“Yes, possibly. Goodnight.”

She walked up the short path to the house. Her face creased and she blinked rapidly to stop the hot rush of tears that stung her eyes as she put her key into the lock.

It took her a long time to fall asleep. Memories of the teenage boy mingled with the image of the man she’d met and talked to today. Most disturbing were her reactions when she first saw him outside the shop and again in the pub—the tingle down her spine, and the electricity arcing through her when she put her hand on his arm. She hadn’t felt any of those things when she’d been with Jack in the past, or indeed with any other man. So why did he have this effect on her?

Her face burned in the darkness and she turned over in bed, heaving the duvet over herself as she gave a frustrated groan.
No, I’m not going to let him get to me
. He was only here for a short time. After that, things would return to normal.

Eventually she fell asleep, but not before wondering if anything would ever seem normal again.

* * * * *

“Late night, was it?” her mother asked when she padded down to the kitchen in her bathrobe and slippers the next morning. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Not particularly late.” Abbey yawned as she poured herself a mug of coffee. “But it took me ages to get to sleep.” She sat down at the table, took a sip of coffee, and knew she had to tell her mother about Jack. If she didn’t, someone who’d seen them talking together probably would. “Jack Tremayne was in the pub last night.”

“Oh.” Edwina adopted the closed expression she used when she didn’t want to talk about something. “I’m surprised Mike didn’t throw him out.”

“Mum, he couldn’t, not after all this time. Not everyone felt as strongly as you did, you know.”

“Perhaps not, but don’t ask me to forgive and forget.”

“If it’s any consolation, I ended up arguing with him.”

“About his article and the gatehouse?”

“Amongst other things, yes.”

“How long is he staying here?”

“I don’t know. His fiancée was killed in a car crash in America.”

“Oh, I see. Well, I’m sorry to hear that, of course, but I hope he’s not going to be around here for long.” Edwina put a plate of toast on the table and peered through the window. “It’s started to drizzle, and there’s heavy rain forecast for later. I think I’d better take my car to the shop. I need to go into town this morning to collect some embroidered bookmarks from Moira.”

“I’ll do that. I want to go to Faulkner’s anyway. They said they’d have the DVDs I ordered by today.”

It was mid-morning when she set off for the small town at the head of the lake. The forecast had been right and the rain came down steadily. Low cloud hid all but the lower reaches of the mountains, and a grey mist blanketed much of the landscape.

She called in first to see Moira, the elderly lady who spent hours embroidering beautiful silk bookmarks, which always sold well in the shop. From there, it was only a short drive into the town centre. By the time she came out of the bookstore, the rain was lashing down even harder, bouncing off the pavements and road.

She hunched forward, concentrating hard as she navigated the narrow winding road back to Rusthwaite. Every so often she had to avoid large puddles at the side of the road. The wipers barely kept her screen clear and her demister wasn’t working properly.

As she wiped the mist from the screen with the back of her hand, she swerved slightly. A car speeded around a bend toward her, and she yelped as she yanked the steering wheel to the left.

Hedgerow branches scraped against the car, and her front wheel spun on the soft grass verge. She was stuck. Slipping the car out of gear, she looked around.

The other car had stopped a few yards away.

A white Volvo. Jack’s car.

After revving the engine a couple of times, she let out a frustrated grunt when the wheel still spun. Annoyed with both herself and him, she watched as he got out of his car and slammed the door. The sexy sway of his hips as he strode toward her made something somersault inside her, but there was no time to think about that now.

His black fleece jacket was soaked within seconds, and he pushed back strands of wet hair from his forehead.

She hit the button to open the window. “What the hell are you playing at? Coming around that corner at ninety miles an hour.”

As he reached her car, she saw the angry glint in his eyes.

“You were on the wrong side of the road.”

“I was not!” She struggled to recover her composure and forced herself to ignore her thudding heart as she looked up at his steely blue eyes. “All right, I had to pull out to avoid a huge puddle back there, but now I’m stuck.”

“Revving your engine isn’t going to help. It’ll only churn up more mud.”

She bridled at his patronising tone but held her ground. “What do
you
suggest?”

“Put the car in reverse and ease back slowly. Your offside wheels are still on the tarmac, so don’t try to go forward, which is what you were trying to do, because you’ll only dig yourself in deeper. Want me to do it?”

“No, thanks, I can manage.” She spoke curtly to hide her embarrassment and moved the gear lever. As she eased backward, she felt the rear wheel gripping the road again.

Jack stood with his hands in his jacket pockets as he watched her. “Okay, you should be all right now, if you edge forward and steer to the right until your nearside front wheel clears the verge.”

Abbey did as he said and breathed a sigh of relief when all four wheels were back on the tarmac. “Erm—thanks.” She knew it sounded grudging and went on quickly, “Of course, this wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t been driving as if you were on an American freeway.”

Jack stared at her for a second, spun away, and strode back to his car.

Aghast, she leaned out of the window. “Jack, I’m sorry—I didn’t mean—”

Either he didn’t hear, or was ignoring her. He climbed into his car, started it up again, and drove past without even looking at her.

She closed her window, dragged her hand through her damp hair, and banged the other against the steering wheel.