Twilight Song

by Cressida McLaughlin

  Despite Abby’s assertion that she needed to focus on the event, and Jack’s initial acceptance, their text messages had continued, Abby turning to Jack for reassurance whenever she was feeling besieged by event details. Several times, she had given in and knocked on his door on the way home from work. It was usually late in the evening, Abby staying behind to work once the distraction of visitors and phone calls were gone, but he had always invited her in and made her tea, listened to her problems and then taken her mind off them by talking about his book or his latest garden wildlife sightings, describing the birds he couldn’t identify in a way that made Abby laugh.

  Sitting on the sofa in Peacock Cottage had felt intimate, and it would have been so easy to kiss him again, to soak up her worries and exhaustion in his arms, but she kept her visits brief and platonic. Jack had respected that, never asking her to stay longer or sitting too close, though the intensity of his gaze showed Abby his feelings hadn’t faded either.

  Tessa’s concerns were never far from her thoughts, but Jack, by assuming the role of the sounding board that Abby needed and honouring her wishes, was proving her sister’s reservations were unfounded. And while the logical part of her knew that just because she hadn’t committed to Jack physically it didn’t mean she wasn’t already too far gone, Abby convinced herself she was being sensible; that text messages and cups of tea meant nothing, and she could still walk away if she wanted to.

  But the note he had left at reception yesterday, shunning his phone for pen and paper, had made her heart soar more than usual.

  Dear Abby

  Your event tomorrow will surpass all expectations, of that I have no doubt. When things are less stressful, I’d love you to drop by again. That badger’s still waiting for another chance.

  Yours, JW x

  Thinking about it now brought a smile to her face. She knew that, once it was over, she would need to take stock of the event, see how much visitor numbers and yearly memberships increased as a result. Then she would have to start thinking about the next one. But there was a glimmer of hope that, during the early stages at least, she could allow herself more time in Jack’s company than just a few fleeting tea breaks.

  A little girl ran, giggling, past her, reminding her of her predicament. She needed a storyteller and he was her only option, unless Abby wanted to have a go herself, and the thought of doing silly voices to keep the children entertained made her flush with embarrassment. She pulled out her phone and instead of calling, as she knew she should when time was tight, clicked through to her text messages.

  Hey, stranger, she typed. Don’t suppose I could ask you a huge favour at very short notice? xx

  The reply took only moments.

  Anything for you. And hey, yourself. x

  Abby grinned.

  How do you feel about telling stories to a bunch of over-excited children? Keep them entertained, and extol the virtues of nature without mentioning corpses, body fluids or murderers? x

  Back came: I wouldn’t want to spend my Saturday any other way. Hopefully this crowd will be kinder than the last lot! I’m already here, by the lemonade stand. Penelope said she’d sent you home to decompress. You OK? x

  Abby’s phone slipped in her sweaty palms. He was here already? And Penelope had told him about her meltdown? Her stomach churned as she typed a reply and walked in the direction of the field.

  Are you kidding, they’re kids – they’ll be horrible! I’m fine. See you in 2 ticks. Xx

  She made her way through the crowds of children laughing and playing tag, queues at the food and craft stands, tents being pitched around the edge of the field, some expertly, some not so. She saw two of the volunteers with a small group of people, pointing to the flowers and butterflies beyond the cordon along the meadow trail, and Rosa deep in conversation with Jonny, who looked happier than she had ever seen him.

  Stephan, in chef’s whites, was strolling through the crowd with a tray of bite-sized bacon and cheese scones, and Marek was demonstrating the newest addition to their telescope family to a few interested adults, one of whom was Councillor Savoury, looking summery in a primrose yellow dress and oversized sunglasses. Abby often wondered if anything had come of her visit to the reserve back in the autumn, but if Penelope had any news about council funding streams for Abby to follow up, she had yet to share it with her.

  The lemonade stand was in the far corner of the field, the small cart’s green and gold livery fitting in with its spring surroundings. Abby peered through the crowd, trying to make Jack out, but was distracted by raised voices to her left.

  Penelope was standing in front of the organic carrot juice stand, her arms folded, talking to a short man who, in a dark suit and grey tie, looked entirely out of place.

  ‘Can’t you see we’re doing all we can? This is out of order, Mr Philpott, and on a Saturday too.’

  ‘Mrs Hardinge,’ he said, his voice flat with weary patience. ‘These are unusual, pressing circumstances, as I’ve already explained. Do you wish to discuss it here, or is there somewhere else we can go?’

  ‘My office,’ Penelope said shortly, her hands clenching at her sides. ‘Come with me.’

  Abby watched them go, a well of ice settling in the pit of her stomach. Surely, surely, he couldn’t be here to start the process of taking her assets away in the middle of their event? Didn’t they all deserve this chance? She turned away, her progress to the lemonade stand slower.

  Then she saw him, and her heart leapt.

  Jack was wearing jeans, black Vans, and a navy T-shirt that expertly (and probably expensively) highlighted the definition of his upper body. Her eyes raked over his forearms, his shapely biceps, his hands shoved in his pockets. His hair had grown since the library event, the waves deliciously thick. She sped up again, but then her tunnel vision widened and the ice was suddenly back, chilling her insides.

  Flick Hunter could have been the poster girl for spring. Her blonde hair fell in unnatural but glorious curls over her shoulders, her jeans were fashionably ripped, and her tight rose-pink T-shirt brought out her tan. Her delicate features were crinkled in amusement at something Jack was saying and as Abby watched, she squeezed his arm, Jack leaning closer to hear what she was saying above the chatter around them.

  She shouldn’t be surprised. She had told Jack she needed to give all her attention to Meadowsweet and, even when she’d seen him Abby had been the epitome of self-restraint. Why shouldn’t he go running to Flick?

  And, she had to admit, they were perfectly matched. A wholesome, girl-next-door media professional anchoring a successful nature programme would be just the person to give Jack comfort and rescue his public image at the same time. Abby hadn’t stopped at Peacock Cottage for the last couple of weeks, the growing pressure of the event keeping her away. Maybe that was all it had taken for Flick Hunter to charm her way back into his life, or perhaps it had happened before then, and that was the reason Jack hadn’t tried to kiss Abby since the night of their badger stakeout.

  She took a deep breath, put on her brightest smile and walked up to them. ‘Jack,’ she said, forcing herself not to stare blatantly at Flick – or completely ignore her – and thus make her jealousy screamingly obvious. ‘It’s lovely to see you. Thank you so much for saving the day.’

  Chapter Four

  It is hard to spot the difference between willow tits and marsh tits. They’re both tiny birds with brown feathers and black caps, but marsh tits always start their call with a sound like a sneeze, while a willow tit makes a chay, chay, chay sound. Neither are very enthusiastic singers!

  — Note from Abby’s notebook.

  ‘Abby – hi.’ Jack turned to her, his smile warm. He glanced briefly at her orange T-shirt, chosen specifically so all the staff would stand out, and then leaned in and kissed her cheek. He smelt of bergamot and sunshine, and the brush of his lips on her skin made Abby feel all at once at home and at sea. Her lips craved the same attention.

  ‘Hello,’ she said, nervous
ly. ‘Is it – are you—?’

  ‘Of course, lead me to the little terrors. Oh, sorry – have you met before? Abby, this is Flick. Flick, Abby.’

  ‘Hi,’ Flick said, breezily. ‘Nice to meet you.’

  ‘You too,’ Abby replied. ‘Are you enjoying it? I know you’re … focused on Reston Marsh at the moment. I’ve been enjoying Wild Wonders,’ she added, not wanting to seem rude.

  ‘I’m glad,’ Flick said, smiling. ‘Thank you. We’ve got a good team there, but this …’ She gestured to the field. ‘It’s so lovely. It reminds me of the camping holidays I used to go on when I was young. Is that guy over there teaching those kids to whittle?’

  ‘Oh, yeah,’ Abby said. ‘That’s one of our part-time wardens. It took me a while to come around to the idea of visitors with sharp tools, but it’s only the older children, and he did a full risk assessment. So—’ She shrugged, wishing she hadn’t slipped into health and safety mode. That was decidedly not sexy, especially when she was standing next to Flick Hunter.

  ‘I think it’s wonderful,’ Flick said, and Abby was surprised at the sincerity of her tone.

  ‘Thank you. It seems to be going OK so far. Speaking of which …’ She caught Jack’s eye. ‘I’m so sorry to interrupt you, but the storytelling is due to start at three so we should get going.’

  ‘I’m at your mercy,’ Jack said. ‘See you later, Flick.’

  ‘Sure.’ She batted her long eyelashes at him, and Jack raised a hand in goodbye and let Abby lead him across the field.

  ‘How are you?’ he asked. ‘Penelope was telling me how hard you’ve been working the last couple of weeks. I hope you don’t mind me saying, but you look tired.’

  ‘It’s been tough,’ she said. ‘But most things have gone as planned, and it’s all been worth it, I think, so—’

  ‘I’ve missed you.’ He grabbed Abby’s hand so that she was forced to stop a few metres from where Gavin was standing in the centre of a circle of children and parents, clutching a large book and looking harassed.

  She turned to him, inhaling as she did. ‘I’ve missed you too. I’ve wanted to come and see you every night on the way home.’

  ‘Why didn’t you, then?’

  ‘Because … you know why. These last few weeks, there’s been so much to do. I couldn’t let myself get sidetracked, and you’re a distraction, Jack. The biggest possible distraction.’

  ‘I’ll take that as a compliment,’ he said, his smile half-hearted.

  ‘Are you OK?’ she asked.

  He nodded. ‘I wasn’t expecting to see Flick here – I bumped into her when I arrived. I came to see the fruits of your labour, and I knew it would be spectacular. Can I talk to you? I know you’re too busy now, but … after this is over?’

  ‘Sure,’ Abby said, swallowing. ‘And thank you, for stepping in at the last moment.’

  ‘I’m happy to help. What do you want me to read? I’ve got some of my own material if you want me to spice things up a bit.’ He grinned, but there was something else, a weariness, behind it. He was trying for chipper and falling slightly short. The fact that they had missed each other, even though it had only been a fortnight, made her skin tingle.

  ‘As tempting as that is,’ she said, ‘I’m not sure they can stomach anything stronger than The Hungry Caterpillar. I’ll leave you in Gavin’s rather frenetic hands, if that’s OK?’

  She watched as Jack almost lost his arm to Gavin’s firm handshake, and then introduced himself to the children and their parents, before sitting on an upturned log. He delivered the opening words of Where the Wild Things Are with as much dramatic effect as a production of Hamlet, the children squealing in glee before he’d even turned to the second page.

  Abby could have stayed there watching and listening to him forever, but Octavia’s craft stall had managed to find a rare patch of mud and was slowly sinking, toppling all her crocheted birds towards a sticky death, and two families were getting into a fight about the proximity of their tents, so Abby was called away to a never-ending to do list. By the time she had a moment to pause, it was close to six o’clock and the storytelling had long since finished.

  ‘Tea, Abby?’ Stephan asked, approaching with a steaming takeaway mug. ‘You look like you could do with it.’

  ‘You might have just saved my life,’ she said, taking it from him. ‘I’ve exhausted my problem-solving capacity, along with everything else. It’s been a long time since I slept in a tent, but I can’t wait to take the weight off my feet.’

  ‘What’s Raffle going to do? I presume he’s not allowed.’

  ‘Octavia’s looking after him for me. She’s not a fan of camping, and I can’t say I blame her. It’ll be weird sleeping without him, though. God, that makes me sound like a mad old spinster, doesn’t it?’

  Stephan laughed and shook his head. ‘Not at all. Jack told me to say goodbye,’ he added softly. ‘He saw you were rushed off your feet and asked me to pass on that he’d catch up with you later. His storytelling went down a treat, lasted much longer than it should have done and pacified a lot of children. I think about fifteen mothers wanted to take him home with them.’

  ‘Good old Jack,’ she said, trying for nonchalant.

  ‘Don’t worry, Abby. He wasn’t interested in any of them that I could see, not even Flick Hunter, who was fluttering about him like an impatient hummingbird.’

  Abby didn’t know what to say to that, so she just smiled and sipped her tea, waving goodbye as Stephan wandered in the direction of the burrito stand.

  She attended the stargazing event, conducted expertly by Rosa and with a very willing, but unexpected assistant in the form of Jonny, and as families sat around the campfire Marek had built and their stories slipped away from the natural world and towards ghosts and witches and other implausible things, her eyelids started to droop.

  ‘Come on you,’ Gavin said. ‘I’ll walk you to your tent before you end up sleeping in the embers.’

  ‘Shit, my tent. I haven’t even thought—’

  ‘Don’t worry, it’s all done. You’re between me and the girls, and Stephan.’

  ‘Thank you so much, Gavin,’ she said. ‘Have your family had a lovely time?’

  ‘My kids, definitely – Jenna not so much, after they’d each had a second ice cream and were bouncing around like Gummy Bears. They’re sleeping now, so I’m on pain of death not to wake them. Also, we’ve set Rosa’s tent apart from the rest, in case Jonny makes it back there with her.’

  Abby raised an eyebrow, which was about as much as she could manage.

  ‘They make a cute couple,’ Gavin said thoughtfully. ‘Not as cute as you and Jack, but …’

  She found the energy to slap him playfully on the arm, and Gavin squeezed her shoulders in response, almost as if he was giving her a massage, which, at that moment, would have been very welcome. They walked in silence to the row of tents, and he handed Abby a torch.

  ‘Your bag’s in there already,’ he said. ‘Sleep tight, event organizer extraordinaire.’

  ‘Thanks, Gavin.’

  ‘You’re very welcome, Abigail Field.’

  ‘Oh, and Gavin?’

  ‘Yup.’

  ‘Why did you say that, about me and Jack?’

  ‘Because he’s done nothing today except gaze adoringly at you, when he wasn’t reading The Tiger who came to Tea or being talked at by Flick Hunter. She left fairly early, but he stood and watched you for the entire time you were running the birds and butterflies quiz. I think the only reason he didn’t join in was because it was easier to ogle you when he thought nobody was watching. But people were watching all right.’

  ‘Gavin, if you’re making this up—’

  He held his hands up. ‘No word of a lie. Ask Stephan or Marek, or Penelope even. He thought he was out of sight next to the bar, but we all saw it. Now, get some shuteye. Breakfasts to organize and a treasure hunt to run in the morning, as I recall?’

  ‘Ugh,’ Abby said. ‘Don’t remind me.’


  ‘At least I’ve left you something sweet to dream about.’ In the torchlight, Abby saw him wink, before he left her and went quietly to his own tent, turned his light off and crawled carefully inside.

  Abby didn’t care that her sleeping bag smelt musty or that her foam undersheet was thin enough to feel every blade of grass through, because she was exhausted, and because Jack had missed her. She floated away on a cloud of happy exhaustion, Jack’s piercing blue eyes and warm smile drifting through her thoughts until sleep took over.

  By the time a girl with ash blonde pigtails called Matilda had won the treasure hunt, and the last tents and food stands had been cleared from the site, it was close to four o’clock on Sunday afternoon. Despite entreaties to go home, Abby stayed to help with the litter pick and to restore the field to its former glory, save for trampled grass and holes where tent poles had been. It didn’t look too traumatized, and as she trudged back to the visitor centre with Rosa, she saw a peacock butterfly fluttering happily in the still, sunny air.

  ‘A job well done,’ Rosa said, sounding as tired as she felt. ‘It’s definitely home time.’

  ‘And tomorrow,’ Abby asked, ‘will you tell me about Jonny?’

  Rosa gave her a coy look from beneath her dark lashes. ‘Maybe. Can I give you a lift?’

  ‘I’m fine, thanks,’ Abby said. ‘The walk will do me good.’ Even though her feet were throbbing, she had been looking forward to it. Thinking was so much easier when she was outside, pounding the trails or sitting in the forest hide looking out at the view. They exchanged smiles and wished each other goodbye.

  Penelope wasn’t in her office but as Abby walked past the reception desk on the way out she noticed a white, square envelope with her name on it. Checking that Stephan was happy to lock up, she stepped outside and stopped next to the feeders to open it.

  It was a card with a fluffy duckling against a bright pink background, a green leaf sticking haphazardly out of its mouth, and it made Abby laugh out loud. She opened it up, her throat tightening as she read the brief message.