The Cottage of New Beginnings

by Suzanne Snow

  She had a proper day off on Wednesday, promising herself she wouldn’t think about school, the cottage or Jon. The first two were easy as she wandered around Leeds trying to get acquainted with a new city, but she found the third almost impossible and it frightened her. She knew she had been faltering since the loss of her relationship with Iain, and that her sorrow had become a safety barrier, a reason to hover in the past instead of looking forward, protection against anything threatening to hurt her once again.

  She had been utterly unable to forget Iain’s final words when he’d tried to explain to her what he still felt for the woman he realised he had always loved and who would be his future, rather than Annie. He’d snatched away the life she thought she had waiting for her, and left her sprawling behind him, lost and uncertain, and desperate not to risk such a thing again.

  But as she ate lunch alone in a noisy little sushi restaurant, she knew she had finally met someone who could tilt her carefully laid foundations, which sent thrills of both excitement and terror through her. She was nervous about seeing Jon tomorrow, almost wishing she could change her mind. But she knew she wouldn’t change her mind and it was partly because she didn’t want to let him down. She resolved instead to be sensible, and promised herself after Sarah’s party on Friday she would try to keep her distance from him.

  Chapter Eight

  Being sensible flew right out of the window when Jon arrived promptly the next day looking as effortlessly handsome as always. Annie was casually dressed in jeans and a pale green shirt, and he waited at the gate while she grabbed her bag and locked the cottage.

  ‘Hi,’ he called, and she felt ridiculously absurd as her knees trembled when his eyes found hers. ‘How are you?’

  ‘Fine, thank you.’ She smiled, hoping it didn’t reflect the warmth on her skin whenever he looked at her. It was hard to ignore the frank expression of interest in his eyes or how his height emphasised the implied strength. He held the car door open and slammed it behind her once she was settled in her seat. He was beside her moments later, and she tried not to look at the width of his thighs or his big, capable hands casually rolling the steering wheel as he drove off.

  ‘I really appreciate you helping out, I know you’re busy.’ He glanced at her and she hummed. She kept her eyes on the road ahead as though she were the one in control of the powerful car. ‘I hope you’ll like the centre. We have a great team.’

  ‘How long has it been open?’ She glanced at Jon long enough to notice the top two buttons of his light blue polo shirt were undone as ever.

  ‘Nearly three years. One of the estate’s farms became vacant when a tenant died so we converted the house and outbuildings and another tenant took on the land. We mostly run residential adventure programmes for schools and youth groups, or sometimes churches or specialist care homes, often children with social and behavioural difficulties. All the activities are aimed at positive relationship building and teaching them new skills and responsibilities within groups. We work in partnership with a centre in Wales, and we occasionally take a few corporate groups for leadership training or team building.’

  They’d left the village behind and the car was climbing quickly as the ground rose up in front of them. Annie glanced outside, seeing green fields becoming untamed moorland covered in dense clumps of heather and wispy bracken. Her eyes were drawn to him again as he continued.

  ‘We can take up to twelve children, plus teachers or assistants, and we provide three team leaders, one of whom lives on site. We also have a specialist activities coordinator who works alongside school groups at different key stages and provides general support.’

  Annie was impressed, sensing the weight of his gaze briefly upon her. He pulled off onto a track leading to a big old farmhouse towering just below the top of the moor. ‘This is it. Welcome to Kilnbeck.’

  The house was surrounded by a chunky stone wall enclosing a simple garden designed with function rather than beauty in mind. Scattered wooden seats were clustered near a barbeque and a couple of goalposts and swing balls for games were propped against a large round table. Jon parked alongside two other cars and a minibus. Annie was out of the Land Rover by the time he was at her side, and when they reached the front door, he pushed it open.

  ‘Come on in. I’ll show you around. Most of the staff are out already with the group, but Gillian, our administrator, will be here.’

  They were inside a porch filled with waterproof coats and a couple of rucksacks slung casually onto a wooden settle. Jon led Annie through a door off the wide hallway into a big sitting room. A huge stone fireplace, filled with ashes and stumps of burnt logs, took up almost half of one wall. Three comfy, worn sofas were bunched together and a few beanbags lolled on the floor, most of them grouped around an abandoned board game, its pieces scattered onto the carpet.

  ‘This is the main living room,’ he said. She knew he was watching her as she looked around and tried to take everything in. ‘There’s a smaller room on the other side of the house which is for reading and peace and quiet. We deliberately don’t have a television or computer games. Most mobiles don’t work up here and they’re discouraged from bringing any valuable gadgets, so we can minimise the technical distractions quite easily. There is Wi-Fi but it’s fairly limited.’

  ‘Don’t the children mind?’ Annie asked, amused.

  Jon grinned. ‘Occasionally but they get used to it pretty quickly. We try to teach them other ways of entertaining themselves, and some of them are so unfit that they often want to crash into bed early after a long day outdoors. There are plenty of books and we encourage games that involve teamwork and problem solving.’

  She followed him upstairs and glanced into the identical bedrooms, each with twin beds, simple wooden furniture, and plain cream walls, and then he showed her the dining room with its big table already laid for tea. Annie was surprised by the modern and spacious kitchen and knew at once that she would be able to cook in here. Jon leant against the central island, watching her quietly as she wandered around pretending to be oblivious to him, trying to make herself feel at home. The whole building felt comfortable and lived in and seemed noticeably quiet without the young people, who’d gone trekking to a ruined castle.

  ‘What do you think?’ he asked finally. Annie glanced at him, noticing the way his eyes seemed to follow her movements, and was unable to disguise the admiration for what he had achieved in her own expression.

  ‘It’s fantastic,’ she said honestly, finally pausing beside the big American fridge and freezer. ‘The children must really love coming here.’ He grinned and she dragged her eyes away from his as somebody entered the room and diverted their attention.

  Jon introduced her to Gillian Woods, the administrator, who looked every inch a competent right-hand woman in her straight blue skirt and white blouse. Everything about her was square, from collar-length hair and tidy fringe to her shoulders and the shape of her shoes. Annie knew she was being sized up as Gillian shook her hand quickly with a welcoming expression, and Annie tried to look as though she knew what she was doing as she smiled back.

  ‘Gillian generally plans the menus and arranges the shopping,’ Jon said, looking first at Annie and then at the older woman. ‘But I’m sure if you want to do something different today, that won’t be a problem, will it?’

  Annie wasn’t quite so sure as Gillian looked a little doubtful, flipping open the iPad she held to glance at the screen. ‘Today’s menu is mushroom soup, sausage and mash, and fruit crumble with custard or ice cream. We have both ordinary and vegetarian sausages and there are no allergies or vegans amongst our guests this week. Will that be all right for you? If not, then of course we can plan something different. I realise you’ve been kind enough to step in at short notice.’

  ‘The original menu is fine,’ Annie said quickly to Gillian, ignoring Jon’s suggestion. She was already running through the process in her mind as she envisaged what she would do first and how long it would take her to prepare
the meal. ‘Absolutely. I don’t want to change anything.’

  Gillian excused herself politely as a telephone began to ring in her office beside the kitchen, and Annie was alone once more with Jon.

  ‘I have to go. I’ll be back later, about three. Help yourself to whatever you want. And call me if there’s anything you need, okay?’

  ‘Of course.’ She nodded, disappointed he was leaving so soon and wondering if she had imagined the reluctance in his voice. ‘Hopefully I won’t have to.’

  Jon disappeared and Gillian popped back, making coffee while Annie scrabbled around looking for ingredients. Annie listened as Gillian started to chat, quietly gleaning more information about the centre and its recent history. Gillian also explained that the children weren’t allowed to help themselves from the kitchen and Annie should send them away if they tried.

  ‘What does Jon do?’ she asked Gillian casually as she prepared the fruit for the crumble, dropping summer berries into a pan and adding a vanilla pod, sugar and a little water.

  ‘He’s the managing director of Thorndale Rural Enterprises but he spends as much time as he can here. He volunteered at other centres before he set up Kilnbeck and got his Basic Expedition Leader award to qualify as a team leader. Kilnbeck is his baby – he had quite a lot of opposition from the village when it went to planning because some people thought it was just free holidays for bad kids. He was determined to prove them wrong, to show that it’s all about developing skills some young people can’t even dream of. Of course we’ve had a few troublesome ones, and it doesn’t get any easier to realise that sometimes your best still isn’t enough, that we can’t always find a way to reach them. He loves working with them, and he’s certainly got a gift for it.’

  ‘Does he live in the village?’ Annie peered into the pan to hide her face, giving it a gentle shake as she tried to make her interest seem perfectly natural. She sensed Gillian’s eyes on her, nonetheless.

  ‘He lives at Thorndale Hall.’ Gillian raised her voice above the noise of the tap as she quickly washed their empty cups and replaced them in the cupboard. ‘It’s his family home. Sir Vivian Beresford is his father.’

  Stunned, Annie wondered why she hadn’t made the connection before, realising Elizabeth had never given her Jon’s surname when she had introduced them. Emerging from the depths of her mind after Gillian’s words were forgotten details about the family who owned the estate and the beautiful Georgian house just beyond the village. She tried to remember what she had learned from Molly all those years ago, vaguely recalling Molly telling her about the young son who had gone away and rarely came home. And now, Annie realised, he was back. She digested the information, questions tumbling through her mind as she measured butter and flour for the crumble mixture.

  Gillian took herself off to work in her office and Annie was alone, thoughts of Jon whirling around in her mind as she mulled over what she knew of him. She chopped mushrooms for the soup while olive oil and butter warmed in a pan and threw in garlic and onions. It smelled delicious and her face was getting warm as she stirred the contents gently. She added chicken stock she had found in the fridge and turned down the heat to let it all simmer for a while. She made some sandwiches for lunch and took a plate to Gillian, who thanked her gratefully as she turned back to her computer screen.

  Altogether Annie had thirteen to cook for and when she returned to the kitchen, she began to peel a mountain of potatoes for the mash. The afternoon seemed to disappear as she chopped, rinsed, peeled, and cooked, relishing the process of creating a meal from scratch once again. She’d barely had time to glance at her watch and was amazed to realise it was almost four already when she heard the excited roar of the children arriving back from their day out. Soon the whole house was filled with noise as they bellowed at each other and a couple of boys stuck their heads inside the kitchen to stare at her curiously. Annie remembered Gillian’s advice and sent them away, promising to bring snacks shortly. She quickly rustled up some hot chocolate and filled a big tray with homemade biscuits she’d found in a tin, jugs of cold juice and steaming mugs, and carried it into the sitting room. The children fell hungrily onto the food as though they had never eaten before, the plates emptied in moments.

  She flew back to the kitchen to line up dozens of sausages beneath a huge grill and began to pop broad beans from their pods and toss them into a pan. Her face was glowing from the heat as she tasted the soup and whizzed it with a blender until it was thick and creamy. She jumped when she heard Jon’s greeting behind her, spinning around to face him and sending drops of soup flying onto the floor. He was propped against the island once more and the smile he gave her was casual, even as his eyes suggested something more.

  ‘It smells amazing in here. Is everything okay?’

  Annie met his gaze and it was impossible to prevent a quiver stealing down her back. ‘Yes, it’s all fine. It’ll be ready about five.’

  Jon strolled towards her and found a spoon, helping himself to the soup. ‘That’s fantastic.’ He made to stick the spoon back into the warm pan for more and laughed as she shooed him away. ‘There’s plenty,’ he protested, ducking out of her way as she flicked a cloth at him.

  ‘Not if you eat it all.’ Steam scorched her face as she hauled the potatoes to the sink and tipped them into a big colander. ‘You’re not helping.’

  ‘But I’d like to,’ he said immediately, and he took the heavy colander from her and tipped the potatoes back into the pan. Annie turned away, distracted by the spitting sausages browning underneath the grill. ‘What can I do?’

  ‘Mash them,’ she said promptly, passing him butter and cream from the fridge. She listened while he told her about a meeting he’d had earlier in the day, and they both looked around as the door opened and Gillian reappeared. Jon thanked her for staying on to help as Annie snatched the sausages from the grill before they began to burn. Jon and Gillian began to discuss plans for the coming week, and Annie listened idly, almost ready to serve the meal. As she started to ladle soup into bowls Jon was beside her once more, holding the bowls so that she could fill them. She offered her thanks as he and Gillian carried the first course into the dining room and began to clear up the untidy kitchen while the onion gravy gently simmered. Jon returned, and Annie knew he was hovering.

  ‘I usually eat with the children when I’m here,’ he said easily. ‘Would you like to join us?’

  She looked at him, torn between wanting to say yes and knowing she shouldn’t, her promise to herself to avoid him after today fresh in her mind. Despite her aching feet she had really enjoyed the day, disappointed the little bit of borrowed time with him was almost over. ‘No thanks,’ she replied deftly. ‘There’s quite a lot to do here. You go ahead.’

  ‘Just leave it. The children always help to clear up later.’

  She shook her head and the look he gave her told her he understood she was making excuses. After that, everything seemed a whirl of busyness. The soup bowls came back empty and she piled plates with sausages, creamy mash, and chunky broad beans. She quickly made custard to serve with the hot crumble and poured it into a large jug alongside a tub of ice cream. Once the meal was over the noise grew as the children cleared the table and escaped into the sitting room to play. Jon came back and helped her with some more of the clearing up, filling the industrial dishwasher with yet another load.

  Annie stuck her head into the sitting room to say goodbye to the children and couldn’t hide her pleasure when they chorused that they’d loved her food, the three young teachers agreeing sleepily. Everybody looked tired and one or two boys were already dozing on the sofas. Annie noticed that all of them had the particular glow that comes from spending the day outside in the fresh air, and she knew it wouldn’t be long before they were clamouring for bed. Jon was waiting outside, leaning casually against his car. She took a deep breath as he opened the passenger door for her, trying to make herself appear as relaxed as he looked.

  He waited as she sank back int
o the seat drowsily, almost ready to fall asleep too. They were silent until he pulled up outside the cottage and he turned to her. ‘A simple thank you doesn’t really seem to cover everything you’ve done today,’ he said quietly, and she shrugged. ‘I owe you now.’

  She laughed at that, glowing from his compliment. ‘I think we’re quits, don’t you?’ She jumped out of the car and bent down to look at him. ‘I’m sure today will let me off trying to think of a surprise, as you’re the only person I know who doesn’t like cake.’

  His blue eyes twinkled in amusement. ‘Maybe. Shall I pick you up tomorrow evening, for the party?’

  Annie had forgotten about the housewarming party in the melee of the day at Kilnbeck. Her heart sank at the thought of spending an evening at Sarah’s house as an obviously unwanted guest, even if Jon would be there. He was waiting for her reply and Annie nodded slowly.

  ‘See you then, about seven thirty,’ he called. She waved goodbye and headed into the cottage.

  The next day she spent quite a while getting ready for the party. It had been ages since she’d had occasion to properly dress up and she was certain Sarah would be pulling out all the stops. Once Annie had done her make-up, she tied her hair at the nape of her neck, leaving most of the curls spilling beyond her shoulders. She sprayed Jimmy Choo Blossom perfume onto her wrists, neck and inside her elbows and slid her new dress on over the satin underwear. The lace-trimmed teal dress, with its scalloped neckline and sitting just off her shoulders, flared out into a dipped hem skirt floating around her knees at the front and beyond at the back. Once her shoes were on, high-heeled silver stiletto sandals which right now she loved more than all her other shoes put together, she stood up and found a little clutch bag.