‘It’s peaceful.’
‘Lonely, more like.’
‘I like being alone.’
He heard her sigh. ‘It’s not healthy, Jake. What will you do every day?’
‘Same as I did in London: work, eat, sleep.’
‘I mean when you’re not working. Are you getting out? Meeting people? Or are you going to turn into even more of a recluse?’
‘I do enough socialising with work.’
‘Oh, Jakey, I’m worried about you.’
‘Don’t be.’
‘Did you get in touch with that counsellor I recommended?’
‘No.’
‘Why not?’
‘You know why not.’
‘It might help you to open up and talk to someone.’
He sighed. How would that help? It would be like making an incision in an old wound. ‘Opening up isn’t my style.’ His words were clipped.
Her tone softened and she said carefully, ‘It’s been two years now. Don’t you think it’s time you moved on?’
He inhaled sharply. ‘Yes. You’re right, big sister,’ he snapped. ‘I’ll just press the switch, shall I? The one to erase all memories and reset my emotional state of mind to “single and open to offers”.’
‘Jake! You know I didn’t—’
He ended the call with an angry jab of his finger and switched off his phone. Then he closed his eyes, feeling bad. Louisa was only trying to help.
He realised Smoke had come to a standstill and was waiting for him because the path ahead had petered out, overgrown with what looked like brambles. Jake picked up a sturdy branch and ploughed through the thorny tangle, making sure Smoke had room to follow.
The trouble was, no one understood how he felt. He was sick of being told he should move on. What he felt for Maria wasn’t fleeting; it wasn’t superficial. He would always love her, always miss her.
The path emerged into the light, and he took a moment to get his bearings. Blinking against the reflection of sunlight on snow, he spotted the Old Hall up the slope to his left and headed towards it.
He simply wanted to be left to work through his grief in his own time, and in his own way. He needed to numb the pain using whatever means worked. And being alone was the best way to do this.
Ice had etched a delicate pattern around the edges of the cottage windows and framed the enchanting scene beyond. Evie sat in the window seat, her sprained ankle resting on a cushion, a cup of tea beside her, fingers moving quickly as she sewed. ‘Somewhere Over The Rainbow’ was playing, and she sang along as she made tree decorations to sell at the Christmas fair in just over a week’s time. She had cut out red felt hearts and stars, which she was embroidering with white thread and the signature button to represent her shop, the Button Hole. But as she sewed, she was distracted by the snowflakes outside, which twisted and glided to the ground.
Snow was so magical and woke in her a childlike sense of awe and excitement. Was that because it happened so rarely? Or was it because it transformed a landscape so radically? Willowbrook always had a fairy-tale air about it – the narrow streets of tiny stone cottages with their slate roofs harked back to bygone centuries – but today especially so. The steep roofs were coated with white, the trees’ branches traced filigree patterns against the pillowy clouds, and the only movement came from thin curls of smoke threading from the chimneys. It was as if an artist had taken a brush and painted out all the dark, dreary colours and hard edges, leaving only this enthralling picture. It was much easier to enjoy the weather, though, from the comfort of her well-heated cottage. She chewed her lip, wondering if Jake Hartwood would go elsewhere for the rest of his curtains after last—
The ring of her mobile phone pierced the air. Evie jumped, knocking over her tea. She was so busy trying to mop up the spillage with one hand, while fumbling for the phone with the other, that she didn’t register the caller’s name until it was too late.
‘Evelyn.’
She frowned at Tim’s voice, and her pulse hammered. The puddle of spilled tea would have to wait until she’d dealt with this. ‘What do you want?’
‘Have you reconsidered my proposal?’
‘I told you – I have my own life now. I’m not coming back.’
‘You don’t mean that.’
‘I really do!’
‘Evelyn, you need to face facts. Opening that shop was an act of folly. You did it on the spur of the moment – I know you were angry, but now you must see sense. Come back to the city and give us another chance. I’ll help you find a proper job. I have contacts I can—’
‘I’m not coming back, Tim,’ she cut in. Just picturing his sterile apartment made her stomach clench with tension. She used to hide her sewing because he’d disapproved of her hobby. She had constantly striven to meet his expectations – and constantly failed. When they were together, she’d felt she couldn’t be herself because she was never good enough.
‘You say that, but—’
‘No buts. It’s true, and nothing will change my mind. The sooner you accept that, Tim, the better.’
‘Darling, don’t be like this.’ His tone softened to a deep purr. ‘You know I never meant to hurt you …’
Tears sprang to her eyes and she shook her head. He hadn’t meant her to find out, was closer to the truth.
But she had. Her heart thumped. She wound her long hair around her finger. It had been five months now – how did he have the power to upset her so much? After what he’d done, she should be immune to him. But each time his name appeared on her phone the memory stirred of him – the man she’d been engaged to – in bed with another woman. Along with the sickening realisation that if Evie hadn’t chanced upon them, he would have gone ahead with their wedding.
‘Tim, I want you to stop calling me.’
‘Come on, darling, you don’t mean—’
‘I do mean it! I want no more contact with you, understand? No more calls or texts or anything else.’
He sighed. ‘You’re just being—’
‘Goodbye, Tim.’
With a shaky finger, she did what she should have done months ago and blocked his number, deleted it from her contact list and put the phone down. Her breathing was ragged, her heart banging against her ribs. She looked through the window at the snowy scene outside, but the peace she’d felt earlier had been shattered. She ground her teeth, resentful that he’d intruded on her new life here in Willowbrook.
Well, she wouldn’t let him, she vowed. She’d moved on, and hopefully now he would do the same.
Chapter Four
‘Happy birthday, Suzie!’ Evie, Natasha and Suzie chinked their glasses of prosecco.
The Dog and Partridge was quieter than usual due to the snow, but Suzie had insisted on meeting despite the weather, so the three of them had walked there. Their wellies were neatly lined up in the pub’s entrance and they’d all brought a pair of shoes to change into.
She’d been living in Willowbrook less than six months, but already Natasha and Suzie felt like family. Closer than family, thought Evie with a nip of guilt.
‘How did you hurt your ankle?’ asked Suzie, with a nod to the walking stick Evie had borrowed from her neighbour, Dorothy.
Evie quickly recapped the previous night’s drama.
‘So you got snowed into the Old Hall with Jake Hartwood.’ Natasha grinned and sipped her drink. She was a dab hand at nail art and today her nails were painted blue with glittery snowflakes.
‘It was awful,’ said Evie, with a shake of her head.
‘Why?’ asked Natasha. ‘I’ve only met him a few times but I seem to remember that Jake is pretty hot.’
Evie thought of his bloodshot eyes and stubble. She also remembered how solid he’d felt when she’d wrapped her arms around him on the ride home. She banished the thought. ‘Good looks aren’t enough to compensate for the fact that he has the personality of a grizzly bear. Plus it was freezing and he hasn’t moved in yet so there were no beds and we had to spe
nd the night together in his study.’ She rubbed her neck. It was still a bit stiff, though at least her ankle was aching less.
‘A grizzly bear?’ Natasha repeated. ‘Are we talking about the same person?’
‘What did he do?’ asked Suzie.
‘He behaved as if it was my own fault that I’d got hurt, and made it very clear he didn’t want me there.’
‘Strange,’ said Natasha. ‘He’s quiet, that’s true, but he’s always been impeccably polite when I’ve met him.’
‘Politeness isn’t in his vocabulary,’ said Evie. ‘Sarcasm, yes. Insults and cynicism, too. I’ll be glad if I never meet him again.’
Which would be impossible, given that her car was stuck at his place, plus his curtain commissions were the only thing keeping her business afloat. Her cheeks heated at the thought of returning to the Old Hall. If he did order more curtains from her, she’d just have to do her damnedest to avoid him.
Suzie and Natasha exchanged a look.
‘Perhaps something else was going on,’ Suzie teased.
‘What do you mean?’ Evie frowned.
‘Maybe there was some … chemistry between you.’
Natasha smiled and her white-blonde hair gleamed in the warm lighting as she nodded.
Evie laughed. Suzie couldn’t have been further from the truth. ‘What we had was the opposite of chemistry. It was …’ she searched for the word, but it was difficult to describe how angry he’d made her, how he’d provoked so much indignation in her ‘… mutual dislike.’
And yet she hadn’t been cowed by him. In fact, she was secretly pleased that she’d stood up to him.
Suzie smiled. ‘So why are you blushing?’
‘Because – because he was infuriating and – and so unreasonable!’
Suzie and Natasha exchanged another look. Evie sighed. If they’d heard the way he’d talked to her, they’d understand. ‘If there was any chemistry at all, it was between me and his dog, Smoke – who was so cute you wouldn’t believe!’
‘The dog that knocked you off the stepladder?’
‘Oh, he didn’t mean to. He was just being friendly. He was probably delighted to meet a human being who isn’t rude and drunk.’
‘Drunk? Jake?’ Natasha looked incredulous.
Evie nodded. ‘Although he did sober up enough to drive me home this morning and I was grateful to him for that. I’d never been on a quad bike before. That was fun.’ She couldn’t help smiling at the memory.
‘Jake has a quad bike? I thought he drove a classic car. He always struck me as being rather traditional.’
‘It came with the house.’
‘That makes sense,’ said Suzie. ‘That property includes the fields all around, and doesn’t he own part of the woodlands too?’
Natasha nodded. ‘That’s what he liked about the place. It’s secluded and private. Luc said he’s become a recluse since his wife died.’
Evie had been about to take a sip of her drink but she stopped, the glass midway to her lips. ‘His wife died?’
Natasha nodded.
‘When?’
‘I’m not sure. A year ago, maybe, or two. She was only twenty-nine. It was tragic.’
‘I didn’t know …’ Evie murmured, distracted by the memory of the shocking phone call she’d received when her sister, Zara, had been killed in a road accident five years ago. She was only twenty-six. Far too young.
She thought of Jake’s red-eyed bitterness, and it was difficult not to feel a stir of sympathy for him. She knew what it was like to lose a loved one. To have to rebuild your life, shell-shocked and broken, without them. Maybe what she’d interpreted as hostility had been a more complicated cocktail of pain and loss.
‘Perhaps he came across as a little abrasive but he’s a nice man underneath,’ said Natasha. ‘I really think you should give him another chance, Evie. You might find you have more in common than you think,’ she finished, with a wink.
Her friends had totally got the wrong end of the stick, Evie thought. She had a quick sip of prosecco. ‘Since the break-up with Tim, I’ve well and truly sworn off men.’
‘Is he still bothering you?’ asked Natasha.
Evie nodded. ‘The woman he cheated with broke up with him and he’s been calling me ever since. He thought I’d come running back to him.’
‘After what he did? He must have one hell of an ego.’
‘They don’t get bigger.’
Natasha touched her arm and smiled sympathetically. ‘But you shouldn’t let one bad experience put you off. Not all men are like him.’
‘I know. But at the moment I need to focus all my energy on the shop.’ Her forehead creased as she thought of her financial difficulties.
‘Things are quiet?’ asked Suzie.
She nodded. ‘And now the bank’s given me an ultimatum.’
‘Oh, no!’
‘I have until February to turn things around,’ she said, trying to quell the panic. She’d been struggling to pay her bills and the rent, so she’d had to default on a couple of loan repayments. The maths was simple: she didn’t have enough money coming in to cover the costs going out.
‘And if you can’t?’
‘I’ll lose the shop.’
Natasha’s eyes widened. ‘Oh, Evie. Let me lend you some money.’
‘Absolutely not.’ She held up one hand. ‘It’s very kind of you to offer, but I can’t borrow from a friend when I already have a loan from the bank. No, I need to start making a profit or face up to the fact that my business has failed and it was a silly, childish dream to believe I could do this.’
‘It’s not silly or childish to do what you love,’ said Natasha. ‘Setting up my own flower shop is the best thing I ever did. It’s been hard work, but I love it and wouldn’t want to do anything else.’
‘But the Button Hole isn’t making any money. I’m just not getting enough customers.’
She could picture it now – having to hand over the keys to her little shop and admit that she’d failed yet again. She could see her parents’ faces. Her dad would roll his eyes, her mother would give her that disappointed look, and then would follow what she’d heard so many times before: how her sister Zara had never let them down like this: Zara would have done the sensible thing and would never have spent all her savings indulging a whim. Zara had had a good job and an equally successful fiancé. She’d had her whole future ahead of her …
Evie dipped her head and tried to ignore the sliding sensation inside. To lose her shop would be like nailing shut her most precious dreams and laying them to rest. She had really hoped that just this once she might make a success of something. ‘Still,’ she said with a brave smile, ‘Christmas is coming. Perhaps things will pick up.’
‘Yes,’ said Suzie. ‘They’re bound to. Everyone will be shopping for presents.’
‘I hope so.’ Evie tried to push aside her fears and stay positive. ‘Plus these curtains for the Old Hall are keeping me busy. Hopefully the income from that will tide me over until the new year …’ She didn’t enjoy making curtains but it was her only source of income just now ‘… though I’ll have to make sure I deliver them when Jake Hartwood isn’t around.’
By the next day the snowploughs had been and the roads were gritted, so people were out and about again, but Evie was pleased that snow still covered all the gardens, the roofs and the hills that encircled the village. Her ankle felt much better, and Saturday was her busiest day, so she reopened her shop. As soon as she had a minute, she would call the garage about recovering her car. If necessary, she could close the shop early to go to the Old Hall. The prospect of meeting Jake Hartwood again made her a little nervous, but she was fairly certain he’d be back in London by now.
The trill of the shop bell made her look up. A muscular-looking man stood in the doorway. He looked conspicuous in her shop, with his dirty hands and oil-stained overalls. Evie hoped he wouldn’t touch anything. ‘Can I help you?’ she asked cheerfully.
‘E
vie Miller?’ he asked, as he approached. ‘I’ve just towed your car. Mr Hartwood asked me to deliver it to you. It’s parked out there at the front.’
He held up a set of car keys and she recognised her heart-shaped keyring with her trademark button stitched in the middle.
‘Mr Hartwood?’ Her brows lifted in surprise. ‘Thank you. How much do I owe you?’
The man shook his head. ‘All paid for. I repaired the front light and checked for any more damage to the vehicle. I couldn’t find any, but if you have any problems when you come to use it, let me know.’
‘Right. Yes. Thanks.’
She was astounded. Jake Hartwood had had her car towed and paid for the damage?
The man looked around, taking in the quilts displayed on the walls and peering more closely at the basket of fat quarters beside the till. ‘My missus loves this kind of thing,’ he said, pointing to the quilt behind her. It was for a baby’s cot, made up of squares of Liberty fabrics. ‘She’s always said she’d like to learn how to sew – do you run classes?’
‘Yes. There’s one for beginners on a Monday afternoon and Tuesday evening. She’s welcome to come along to either. The first lesson is free, so she can try it before she pays.’ Evie handed him a card with the shop’s name and number.
‘Thanks.’ He was whistling as he left.
She ought to call Jake to thank him, Evie thought, as the door jingled shut, but she didn’t have his number. She’d leave a note next time she delivered his curtains. His PA had ordered curtains for another three rooms, and he’d paid Evie’s invoice immediately, just as he’d said he would. She was relieved. Her bank account would live to fight another day.
She didn’t have time to dwell on the subject because the doorbell tinkled again and Natasha came in. She held a wreath in each hand. ‘I made these this morning and thought you might like a couple for your shop and cottage.’
Evie’s eyes widened. ‘Oh, Nat, they’re gorgeous!’ The frosted pine cones and greenery sparkled and shimmered, and they smelt divine. She pointed to the white berries. ‘Is that mistletoe?’
‘It is,’ grinned Natasha.
The Christmas Holiday: The perfect heart-warming read full of festive magic Page 5
