Twilight Song

by Cressida McLaughlin

  I don’t know. But if it is a mistake, there’s nobody I’d rather be making it with. Thank you, again, eternally. JW x

  ‘All set?’ Rosa asked, as Abby picked up her bag and walked towards the glass doors, the bird feeders teeming with blue tits beyond.

  ‘As I’ll ever be, which at the moment seems like not at all,’ Abby admitted.

  ‘You’ll be fine,’ Rosa said warmly. ‘I have no doubt that Jack will look after you. Punches aside, he strikes me as a gentleman.’

  ‘He is. I just … I’m going to stick out like a sore thumb.’

  Rosa laughed. ‘Not in your dress, you’re not. You’ll look stunning. Full-length selfie please, the moment you’re ready.’

  Abby scrunched her nose up, thinking of all the money she had spent on the dress that was hanging from her wardrobe door, and which she’d asked Rosa to come and look at as soon as she’d bought it. Was it the right kind of thing? She had stopped short of sending Jack a photo of it just to check, because she loved his hair and didn’t want him to have torn it all out by this evening.

  ‘I need to go,’ she said quietly.

  ‘Oh, come here.’ Rosa hurried over and wrapped her in a hug. Abby struggled for a moment, then let herself be squeezed. ‘Have you spoken to Tessa about all this?’

  ‘She’s been so busy,’ Abby said, which wasn’t a lie, but it also wasn’t the whole truth. There was no way she was going to let Tessa unnerve her even further – she would tell her after the event, when it had all gone brilliantly. She didn’t need her sister saying that Jack was using her again; the words were on constant repeat in her head anyway.

  ‘I’ll have my phone glued to my hand this evening,’ Rosa said. ‘So if you need anything – advice, reassurance, me to Google anyone famous you’re confused about, I’m there. And if for any reason Octavia can’t take Raffle, let me know and I’ll look after him.’

  ‘Thank you, Rosa, you’re too good to me.’

  ‘I am nothing of the sort. Now get going before Penelope corrals you to talk about the summer fete.’

  ‘I’m gone.’ She hurried out of the door and began the journey home, finding herself taking the longer route back through the reserve, over the fallen tree and to the side gate of Swallowtail House. Her trip there with Jack seemed so long ago, and as she looked at the building, alive with its spring freshness, the green of the grass, the sound of birds calling in the trees, she began to feel calmer. Reluctantly leaving it behind, she picked up her pace, almost jogging the rest of the way. There were three hours before Jack had said he would pick her up. Would it be enough?

  There was a light rat-tat-tat on the front door at five past three. Abby had been pacing nervously in the living room for the last half an hour, Raffle lying on the sofa, his large eyes sulkily following her repetitive movements, a sure sign that he knew he was being left out of something. But now he leapt up, beating Abby into the hallway. Taking a deep breath, she held onto Raffle’s collar so he didn’t charge Jack, and opened the door.

  ‘Wow.’ It came out before she’d had a chance to think about it. ‘Hello,’ she added quickly, but Jack was staring at her and barely seemed to notice she’d spoken.

  She glanced down nervously.

  ‘You look stunning,’ Jack said. ‘The bluebell of the ball.’

  Abby laughed. ‘I, uhm – you don’t look too bad yourself.’

  He stepped forward, giving Raffle an affectionate stroke, and kissed her on the cheek.

  He smelled even more delicious than usual, his scent headier, full of lemon and sea salt and vanilla. Abby closed her eyes. She knew she looked OK, that her satin, strappy dress, in a dusky blue with just a hint of purple – the colour of a bluebell, though she hadn’t made the connection until Jack had – a scalloped neckline and slit up the ankle-length skirt, was stylish. It needed to be at the price she’d paid for it. She’d teamed it with a delicate silver necklace, drop earrings and a sparkly silver clutch, and had a matching grip to hold her straight-dried hair back from her face. She had kept her make-up simple, black mascara and pale, shimmering eyelids with a brush of bold pink lipstick. It wasn’t professional, she hadn’t been styled by fashion and make-up experts, but she hoped it would do.

  And yet Jack looked like a film star.

  His dark hair was brushed away from his face, but still had its characteristic messiness, and he was wearing a fitted black dinner jacket and narrow-legged trousers, a white shirt, currently open at the neck, missing its bowtie. A blue silk handkerchief was folded in his breast pocket, which brought out the depth of colour in his eyes. It was a darker blue than her own dress, but the synchronicity still made her smile.

  ‘Are you ready for this?’ he asked, running his palms down the sides of his trousers.

  ‘If you are,’ she replied.

  She whispered goodbye into Raffle’s ear, assuring him that Octavia would be round to see him later, and stepped into the warm evening. As she locked her front door, she glanced up to see her neighbour standing, unashamedly, in her window. Abby waved, her cheeks heating, and the older woman blew her a huge, elaborate kiss and then followed it with a wink.

  She let Jack take her arm and lead her to a black Mercedes people-carrier that was parked at the end of her path.

  ‘Abby,’ he said, once they were sitting in the back. ‘This is Gene, our driver.’

  ‘Hi, Abby, great to meet you.’ A square-faced man with receding white hair reached back to shake her hand from the driver’s seat.

  ‘And this is my agent, Leo.’

  Leo turned fully round in the passenger seat, his arm coming out towards Abby around the headrest. He had twinkly grey eyes in a narrow face, beneath dark brown hair cut neatly short. He looked to be in his mid to late forties, was immediately friendly and, Abby thought, vaguely familiar. And then she remembered the man who’d been calling from the doorway of Peacock Cottage not long after Jack had moved in and realized that it was Leo – good enough friends to help settle him into his new home and also, she reminded herself, a close acquaintance of Penelope’s.

  ‘Abby Field, it is wonderful to finally meet you. Honestly, Jack has been—’

  ‘Leo …’ There was a warning note to Jack’s voice, but also humour.

  ‘It’s lovely to meet you too,’ Abby said, taking his proffered hand.

  ‘Sorry for the awkward greeting. I would have got out of the car, but Jack said you have inquisitive neighbours, and might not appreciate a welcoming party. Though I’m not sure anyone would fail to spot you looking slightly out of the ordinary in that. And when I say out of the ordinary, I mean beautiful. Jack has complimented you, yes?’

  Abby glanced at Jack and he rolled his eyes.

  ‘Yes,’ Abby said. ‘He has. And both of you look very smart.’

  ‘Oh, shush about me,’ Leo replied. ‘I know you mean our man Jack, and I agree. He’s done himself proud, though I fear he could turn up to these things in a pair of white Y-fronts and still outshine all the other chaps there. But tonight requires a little more forethought, which I’m delighted to see he’s put in.’

  ‘To see if I’ll be allowed back into the inner circle?’ Jack asked dryly.

  ‘You pooh-pooh it, but your writing deserves more than meagre book sales, and if you don’t have the industry working for you, that’s all you’ll get. Especially this new one. Has he told you much about it, Abby, or has he kept things close to his chest, as always?’

  ‘Oh, very close to his chest. Though I do believe there might be a tributary in it?’

  Leo laughed easily. ‘It’s a very clever ruse.’

  Abby frowned. ‘What? The way the body’s hidden?’

  ‘The way that whole passage came about,’ Leo said, his grey eyes dancing. He was so relaxed and affable, she felt herself warming to him instantly.

  ‘I think we should change the subject.’ Jack did up his seatbelt. ‘Don’t we need to get going?’

  ‘We do indeed.’ Leo tapped the dashboard. ‘Right-oh
, ready Gene?’

  ‘Yup. Everyone belted? Then off we go.’

  They headed out of Meadowgreen, past fields hazy with late spring sunshine, the areas Abby knew so well, and then into unfamiliar territory. Leo was a talker, and after asking Abby a few questions, all of which he promptly said he knew the answer to because Jack had already told him, he turned to the event.

  ‘People pretend they don’t care, Abby, but they’re all lying. Everyone wants to say the wittiest thing, have conversations with the most noteworthy people – this year, Jack, I’m sure you’ll be in the centre of everyone’s bingo card. But if we see Eddie Markham, let’s not give them an instant bulls-eye – excuse the mixed metaphors – by repeating last year’s performance.’

  ‘Leo, how many times?’ Jack sighed heavily, as if his agent was a toddler he had to put up with, but Abby had noticed that ever since he had introduced her to Leo, a smile hadn’t been far from his lips. They were clearly good friends, even if they wound each other up.

  ‘It never hurts to hammer the point home,’ Leo said. ‘Especially when it’s such an important one.

  The car journey passed more quickly than she had anticipated, and listening to Jack and Leo chat about everything and nothing helped to quiet her clamouring nerves. But when the fields became dotted with buildings, then housing estates, and then the fields were the rarity and the built-up areas the norm, her apprehension grew.

  ‘Are you OK?’ Jack asked. ‘Even now, there’s time to back out.’

  ‘No,’ Abby shook her head. ‘I want to come with you. I am nervous, though.’

  ‘I’ll look after you, I promise.’ He slid his hand over hers on the seat between them.

  Eventually, the car came to a halt outside an impressive building with three pristine white stairs up to an oversized double door, a man and woman, in a tuxedo and black dress respectively, checking names on a clipboard and greeting people. She watched through the tinted window while, behind her, Jack did up the top buttons of his shirt and tied his bowtie. A myriad of people, young and old, some in obvious pairs, others alone or in small groups, were ushered inside. She rubbed her hands together, and then surreptitiously along the leather seat, though it did little to dry them.

  ‘Good to go?’ Leo asked.

  Abby turned to Jack, her tummy flipping unhelpfully as the full effect of his outfit hit her, and he nodded. She opened her door, but before she could step down, Jack had come around the back of the car and offered her his hand.

  ‘You, Abby Field, will be the most admired woman there.’ He gave her a bright, brilliant smile, leaving her momentarily speechless.

  ‘Only because I’m with you,’ she whispered. Fear clouded his eyes for a second, then he helped her down from the car and they walked towards the grand hotel.

  From that moment on it was a blur of names and faces, of hellos and small talk, as Jack and Leo worked the room with her between them. Leo took two glasses of champagne off a tray and handed them each one, and Abby closed her eyes in delight at the delicate, fizzy liquid, so much better than her standard Sainsbury’s prosecco. Tiny canapés – scallops in their shells, miniature beef and horseradish curls, smoked salmon and dill blinis – were circulated by waiters in black and white outfits. Leo stayed with them, Abby kept her hand wrapped round Jack’s arm, and he occasionally squeezed it against his side, reminding her that she wasn’t forgotten.

  The room was huge, the floor black-and-white tiled, its high ceiling disappearing into darkness while the space was beautifully lit with softly glowing lamps and blue fairy lights that twinkled like stars. Jack had assured her that, unlike the awards ceremony, there was no formality to the night, no sit-down meal, only a brief speech from the organizers at some point during the mingling, but even so, intimidating wasn’t the word.

  And yet, Jack socialized with an energy Abby found exhilarating. He never left her out, always introducing her and steering the conversation to something she could engage with. He mentioned her job at the nature reserve, listening as she talked about it, adding that he’d come to find it as a sanctuary when he needed time to think or clear his head. People responded to him, matching his smile like a reflection, laughing with him and reaching out to touch his arm or shoulder. There were unanswered questions in the eyes of some of the men and women they spoke to, but most seemed genuinely happy to see him.

  She understood, now, why what had happened last year had affected him so much. If he was this good at the social side of being an author, then losing that role would have had an impact not just on his career, but on him personally. Perhaps that was why he was so disgruntled when she first met him; not only was there huge pressure on him to write something good, but he had lost a part of his life that it was obvious he enjoyed. He may have been reluctant to come tonight, and there was understandably a nervous anticipation about being back in the spotlight after so long, but the truth was that Jack was a sociable person. He sparkled more brightly than the fairy lights.

  ‘Oh, Jack,’ said Cherie, a woman in her fifties with cropped mousy hair and striking purple eye shadow. ‘It’s so lovely to see you. You must tell me about this new book of yours.’

  They had reached the middle of the room, and Abby’s feet were starting to ache, desperate for a wall to take some of the pressure off or, even better, a chair. Jack repeated the spiel he’d been giving people all evening, flashing Abby an apologetic smile as he did.

  ‘It sounds positively delicious,’ Cherie said, when he’d finished. ‘It’s been so wonderful to see you again, Jack. And to meet you, dear Abby.’

  ‘Lovely to meet you too,’ Abby said.

  As they were retreating, Cherie leaned into her and added, ‘so good he’s found someone who can keep him on the straight and narrow.’

  Once they’d moved out of earshot, Jack laughed.

  ‘What?’ Abby asked.

  ‘The look on your face. What did she say to you?’

  ‘Nothing.’ Abby shook her head vehemently.

  ‘Tell me, I won’t be offended.’

  ‘She said,’ Abby started, dragging the words out, ‘that she was pleased you’d found someone who could keep you on the straight and narrow. How cheeky!’

  ‘She’s right, though,’ he said, grinning at her. ‘Come on, let’s see if we can track down Leo and another drink.’

  But Leo was already on his way towards them with full champagne glasses. He delivered his news as he handed them out. ‘Natasha’s coming over, and EM is by the far wall embroiled in a heated discussion with Harvey Poulson.’ Abby looked in the direction he was indicating, but couldn’t spot anyone who resembled the man she had seen in the newspaper article.

  When she turned back, Jack was talking to a slim woman with luxurious dark curls and a shimmering, gold dress. She was gorgeous, radiating the kind of confidence that Abby only felt when she was standing in front of a group of people in her wellies, talking about the migratory patterns of geese.

  ‘That’s his ex,’ Leo whispered. ‘Bit of a messy one, but it ended a while ago.’

  ‘When are endings not messy?’ she murmured, watching them closely. They were talking amicably, but there was a stiffness to their body language even as she touched his arm. And then, Natasha was gone and before Jack could rejoin them he was accosted by a tall man wearing a claret-coloured velvet jacket.

  ‘Shit,’ Leo said. ‘That’s Bob Stevens. Head of the Page Turner Foundation. Can’t break up that little tête-à-tête. Come with me, we’ll find a chair.’

  They settled on a regal, high-backed sofa in the expansive hallway they had come in through. It was cooler here and Abby felt more able to breathe. She smiled at Leo, grateful that he was looking after her in Jack’s absence.

  ‘Jack’s a good egg, you know.’ He said it in a matter of fact way, but Abby sensed that this was important: the good angel sitting on her shoulder, contradicting her sister’s cautions.

  ‘I know. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t think that.’


  ‘And everything that took place last year, with Eddie Markham, what do you make of it?’

  Abby clasped her hands together nervously. If anyone knew the whole story of what had happened between Jack and Eddie, it would be Leo. ‘I think that,’ she started cautiously, ‘even if he’s not prepared to talk about it, there’s a reason he ended up lashing out – that Eddie provoked him. I don’t believe he’s violent. We had a couple of arguments when we first met, but they were never genuinely angry. I mean, I got worked up, but—’

  ‘But you can never be pissed off with him for long, I know.’ Leo smiled ruefully. ‘I’ve been there, more times than you can imagine. The irritating part is that he very rarely loses his cool, can stay placid and reasonable while making your blood boil. But last year, obviously, was different.’ He sighed. ‘And trying to get him to give his side of the story is – well, impossible. It would explain everything, recover his reputation in an instant, but he refuses to do it. It seems I’m destined to be stuck persuading stubborn people to do what I know is good for them, however reluctant they are. In Jack’s case, it’s like trying to talk to a brick wall.’

  ‘But why won’t he explain?’ Abby asked. ‘That’s what I don’t understand.’

  ‘Because Jack’s stupidly old-fashioned when it comes to things like loyalty, and he won’t show Eddie out for the despicable human being that he is, even when Eddie has done everything in his power to ruin Jack’s career. Part of me understands it, but as his agent …’ He exhaled loudly. ‘I want to shake sense into him – or leak the story myself.’