Blackberry Way (Tales From Appleyard Book 4)

by Emma Davies

  Laura nodded, glad of the opportunity for a little more time to compose herself. She followed Stephen through a door and then another, smiling politely as he showed her where the kettle and mugs were.

  ‘And the tea and coffee are here,’ he motioned, before leaving her to it.

  She watched as he padded across the wooden floor, his feet bare, the bottom of his jeans slightly too long, frayed and trailing on the ground. The denim clung to his legs. Laura raised a hand to her brow. I must be in shock, she thought, that’s the only explanation. But he had felt so good. She pressed the switch on the kettle. No, it wasn’t Stephen that had felt so good, she corrected herself. It was simply the fact that he was a man. Tall and solid, safe even, and it been such a long time since she had been held like that. Despite the circumstances, her body had responded to a basic human need that she had been denied for so long; the simple comfort that touch can bring, that was all.

  By the time Stephen returned she was feeling more herself. Two cups of coffee stood on the work surface and she handed him one. ‘No sugar, I think. Is that right?’

  Stephen smiled. ‘Thank you.’ He’d combed his hair, and was now wearing a soft pale green shirt. ‘Shall we sit down?’

  He led her through to an enormous conservatory filled with plants: orchids, ferns, and a huge Stephanotis whose glorious heady scent filled the air. She looked around her in amazement.

  ‘Are these yours?’ she blurted out.

  Stephen looked amused. ‘Well this is my house, so…’

  ‘I know, sorry. I just didn’t think you would have plants for some reason.’

  ‘Well I do grow plants for a living,’ he replied. ‘Sort of, well, trees obviously. Although granted I do take their produce, mash it mercilessly into a pulp and make wild booze from it which I sell for inflated prices.’

  Laura turned to gaze out of the window at the rows and rows of apple trees which could be seen in the distance.

  ‘You should adopt that for your marketing literature, you know. It’s quite catchy.’

  Stephen crossed the room to stand in front of her. ‘And you should turn back around again so you can hear me laugh,’ he said.

  ‘Sorry,’ she said automatically. ‘It’s not really fair, is it?’ She went to sit down on one of the deep squishy sofas.

  ‘I need to apologise… again,’ she added the minute she sat down. ‘I can’t begin to imagine what you must think of me and worse, I can’t really explain my behaviour. Talk about hypocritical. But I’m sorry for shouting at you yesterday, for being utterly unreasonable, for coming across as a callous uncaring bitch, and for throwing you out of my house.’

  ‘You forgot the bit where you questioned my integrity.’

  Laura sighed. ‘Yes, that too,’ she added sheepishly, but Stephen was smiling.

  ‘I tell you what,’ he said, joining her on the other end of the sofa. ‘I’m going to let you into a secret, which might not actually be all that secret, but over the years I’ve gained a reputation for being an arrogant womanising bastard.’ He took a sip of his coffee. ‘Feel free to contradict me anytime,’ he said. Laura said nothing. ‘See, I knew I was right. But the thing is, people usually have a reason for behaving the way they do; I know I did. It’s personal to them, but other folk can’t always see it for what it is; they only see the behaviour on the outside, never looking at what might have caused it.’

  He checked to see she was still following him. ‘The worst thing is when you decide enough is enough and try to change; people are often unwilling to give you a second chance. I don’t blame them for that, but it makes it bloody difficult when you’re trying to convince them of your newly reformed character. I mean I might not live that long.’ He stared into his mug before looking up again. ‘Look, what I’m trying to say is that I think I understand a lot of what you must have been through in the past, and how that might make you behave at times. And if you can accept that I do understand, maybe you can also accept that I can draw a line under it and start again, without the need for apology or explanation.’

  Laura’s heart was beating ever so slightly fast again. It seemed impossible that what Stephen was saying was true, and yet the way his eyes gazed into hers at times she really did believe he could see into the little boxes she had stashed away in her mind. The ones that no-one was allowed to open. She looked at his face now, concerned, but sincere, nothing more, and she felt her shoulders drop a couple of inches more.

  ‘Can I ask you a question?’ said Stephen, the tips of his fingers lightly tapping the mug he cradled in his lap.

  She nodded, swallowing.

  ‘When I came to see you yesterday, I was in a bit of a panic myself. I’d only just realised that we were potential witnesses to a crime and, apart from checking that you were okay, I did want to see if you could remember anything from that day. You totally floored me by saying that you actually knew who was driving the car which nearly hit us. The reasons you gave for not wanting to go to the police were valid ones, and yet today things seem… very different. You were obviously upset when you arrived here this morning, and if you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine, but you asked for my help. Am I right in thinking that something has happened since yesterday to cause your change of heart?’

  Laura smiled. ‘That’s very tactfully put,’ she said. ‘I like that you referred to me as ‘upset’ when you could have described me as howling and weeping like a wild banshee.’

  ‘I thought about it.’ Stephen’s gaze was level.

  She took a deep breath. ‘I know the lady who was knocked down. I only found out today when I went to visit her, but her name is Blanche; she’s a neighbour of mine and rather partial to my sloe gin. The thing is she’s the sweetest, kindest lady, who wouldn’t hurt a fly and the thought of her lying there because of that evil cowardly scumbag is more than I can bear. I let that family get away with a terrible wrong in the past because I didn’t have the strength to fight anymore. I’m not sure I have now, but if Blanche can fight for her life then so can I… only I’m not sure I can do it on my own.’

  ‘So I’ll help you.’

  Laura stared at him. ‘Just like that?’

  ‘Just like that,’ he replied. ‘Besides which you’re forgetting that I’m a potential witness too, so I’m obliged to help, plus, I’m looking for a lost cause to support so that folks can see I’ve redeemed my wicked ways. I think you might do nicely.’

  Laura’s cheeks grew hot again. ‘You’re teasing me now,’ she huffed. ‘Stop it.’

  ‘Only a smidge,’ grinned Stephen, ‘after all I need to keep you sweet – my future sister-in-law will have my guts for garters if I do anything to jeopardise her wedding preparations.’

  ‘Oh my God!’ exclaimed Laura, putting her mug down with a thump. ‘Freya. I’d completely forgotten about her. I’m supposed to be meeting her this afternoon with some ideas and I’ve got nothing prepared. What am I going to do?’

  ‘I don’t know. What do you need?’

  ‘Only half the hedgerows between here and Much Marlowes.’

  Stephen wedged his mug between his knees and waggled both hands. ‘I’m not fit for much fancy stuff, but I can pick, will that help?’

  Chapter 9

  Laura held her breath. ‘What do you think?’ she asked.

  The table was covered in flowers, fruit, berries, greenery and indeed a sample from every hedge and field for miles around it seemed. At the far end Freya sat in absolute wonder, trying to take in everything she had been shown. The colours, even the smells were the most enticing thing she had ever seen – as decoration for their wedding they were beautiful, but as the story of her and Sam’s life and the way they lived it, they were simply perfect.

  ‘I can’t take it all in,’ she said. ‘I want everything.’

  ‘We might have gone a bit overboard,’ admitted Laura, smiling at the memory of Stephen’s eagerness as he gathered and picked the best of what the countryside had to offer. ‘But I wanted to sh
ow you what the decoration in the marquees could look like. I have some very strong ideas for your bouquet, and these will be echoed in the more formal church arrangements, but I thought the reception could take something a little less structured. The beauty of these extended garlands is that they just grow out of whatever comes to hand at the time. There’s no uniformity to them, but instead each area is worked up with a variety of colours and textures, whatever fits, pretty much.’

  ‘What do you think, Stephen?’ asked Freya.

  Laura smothered a smile at the memory of Freya’s raised eyebrows as she caught sight of Stephen casually leaning up against her sink earlier. A long and rather ponderous explanation for his presence followed which, in Laura’s opinion, made it seem far more suspicious than it really was. In truth, she wasn’t sure why he had stayed either but, as the day had worn on, her determination of the morning had begun to fade and her doubts chipped away at her again. It was only Stephen’s cheerful chatter that had kept her from succumbing to her fears, and she knew that without him she would be feeling very different.

  Now, Freya’s reactions to her ideas were more than she could ever have wished for. By the time she and Stephen had returned from hunting out and collecting the various plants she wanted to use, it was the middle of the afternoon, which hadn’t left her much time to think about her ideas and make up a few samples. To be honest she had been winging it for much of their conversation, but she and Freya were so much on the same wavelength that Laura had needed only to start a sentence to have Freya finish it.

  She suddenly became aware that Stephen was staring at her. He had come to join them at the table after a while, but so far had said very little.

  ‘Sorry, did you say something?’ she asked, pulling herself back to the conversation.

  ‘Only that I’ve never seen anything quite like this before. And could I have another chocolate please?’

  Laura pulled the tray out from beneath her notebook. She pushed it towards him.

  ‘To be fair,’ he added, ‘I’m not one to frequent florist’s shops on a regular basis so I have no idea what wedding flowers are supposed to look like.’

  Freya slapped his arm. ‘Don’t be so rude,’ she said.

  Stephen looked indignant. ‘I’m not being rude. You asked for my opinion and I gave it. I have no idea what brides like these days, but in my humble opinion what we’ve seen here is truly beautiful. Even I can see that. The sweets are lovely too.’

  ‘Yes, well, I’m not supposed to be eating those,’ said Freya, ‘or I’ll never fit into my dress. But they are gorgeous. What did you say they were?’

  ‘Blackberry and coconut cream truffles,’ replied Laura.

  Freya closed her eyes briefly as she let the sweet melt in her mouth. ‘Well, you’ll have to let me know where you get them from. When the wedding is over I’m going to pig out on these.’

  ‘I make them most weeks, so just let me know when you want some. It’s not a problem.’

  A dribble of chocolate threatened to escape Freya’s mouth as she swallowed hastily.

  ‘You make these, did you say...? Oh, my God, I have a friend who’s going to love you.’ She licked her lips. ‘She runs a shop which sells gourmet handmade produce among other things. These would be perfect for her.’

  Stephen leaned forward. ‘Merry, of course! Why didn’t I think of that? That’s a seriously good idea, Freya. In fact, I’m sure Merry would be keen to stock all the other gorgeous things that Laura makes, I…’ He sat back, catching the expression on Laura’s face. ‘Okay, one thing at a time… sorry, back to the wedding.’

  Laura smiled. ‘So, are you happy for me to go ahead, Freya?’ she asked, steering the conversation back on track. ‘If you can give me a couple of days I can work up some proper designs for your bouquet as well, and then I’ll need to get things finalised. With only two weeks to go I’ll need that time to plan how and when I’m going to get it all done.’

  ‘I’m more than happy. You won’t believe how lucky I feel to have found you,’ gushed Freya. She was about to say something more but then stopped herself. ‘Are you sure you’re okay with all of this? I know we’re asking a lot of you.’

  ‘I honestly don’t know,’ Laura admitted. ‘But I do know that I couldn’t have gone on like I was. You’ve given me an opportunity to change my life, and I’ve got to have faith that whatever will be, will be for a reason. And a good one, I’m sure.’

  ‘Even so, you’ll promise you’ll ask for help if you need it,’ said Freya. ‘Or just to talk, you know, if things get tough.’

  ‘I will, I promise.’

  ‘And tomorrow I will metaphorically be holding your hand every step of the way,’ said Stephen, with a glance at Freya. ‘So try not to worry about that. The police will be sympathetic to your feelings I’m sure.’

  Laura gave a weak smile. She was tired now, almost overwhelmingly so, and despite Stephen’s assurances, the thought of the following day loomed large.

  ‘Come on, Stephen, we must go,’ announced Freya. ‘Laura looks exhausted, and I’ve still got a million and one things to do today as well.’ She looked at the table, still covered in piles of paper and foliage. ‘We’ll help you clear up first though, if you like.’

  Laura waved away their suggestion, suddenly longing for her own company. It had been quite a while since she had been with people for such a length of time, and it was exhausting just following the conversation. ‘No, it’s fine. I might have a bit more of a play in any case. I’ll clear it away later.’

  Freya came forward to give her a hug. ‘Take care,’ she said afterwards. ‘And thank you.’

  Stephen hovered awkwardly by the door. ‘See you tomorrow,’ he said. ‘I’ll pick you up at nine.’ He was about to follow Freya back out into the hallway when he suddenly turned back to her. He made a sign with his hands.

  Laura’s eyes widened in surprise. ‘What did you say?’ she asked.

  ‘Thank you,’ said Stephen, repeating the sign.

  She could still see the expression on his face several minutes after she closed the door behind them.

  Chapter 10

  ‘That’s a pretty serious accusation to make, Mrs Ashcombe.’

  Laura could feel her pulse begin to quicken once more. ‘I am aware of that,’ she bit back. ‘I might be deaf, but there’s absolutely nothing wrong with my eyes.’

  The two police officers exchanged a look as Laura felt a gentle touch on her arm. She glanced at Stephen, who smiled warmly.

  ‘From the moment I mentioned our accident to Laura, it was clear that she recognised both the car and its driver,’ he said, ‘and that was before she even knew about the hit and run incident. It’s hardly an accusation.’ He looked between the two men sitting opposite them. ‘You appealed for witnesses to come forward and we have. Until the day we were run off the road I didn’t even know Mrs Ashcombe personally, although I am of course aware of the history between her and the Drummond family. The two things are entirely unconnected however.’

  The policeman directly opposite Laura sat back in his chair, looking at her with a frown. ‘And yet the last time you entered this station, it was on a charge of assault.’

  Laura hung her head. She could feel Stephen’s eyes on her, but really, what was the point? What was she even doing here? She felt a wave of anger balling in her chest as though it would explode from her at any minute. She drew her legs underneath her, making ready to stand. She needed to get out of here.

  The pressure on her arm increased. ‘When was this?’ asked Stephen, as she looked up. She shrugged away his touch.

  ‘Does it matter?’ she replied. ‘I told you this whole thing was pointless.’ She glared back at the policeman.

  ‘It probably doesn’t matter, no,’ said Stephen, ‘in that it clearly has nothing to do with the reason we’re here today… But it might help me to understand why it looks as though you’re not being taken seriously. And that actually matters a very great deal.’

&nb
sp; Laura held his gaze. She could tell from the way his lips pursed that there was a real force behind his words, and although his face was turned towards her, she understood that he was not talking to her alone. She glanced across the table, where the policeman’s previously relaxed pose had been replaced with a more business-like stance. She licked her lips and swallowed.

  ‘I was shopping,’ she said, calmly, ‘just before Christmas. Something I try very hard not to do, but it was a bit of a special occasion. Usually I go home to Mum and Dad’s, but last year my neighbours all persuaded me stay here and join them for Christmas dinner. I’d had to go to the big Tesco.’ She bit her lip as her face was suddenly flooded with heat. ‘That’s when Francis started having a go.’

  ‘What do you mean “having a go” Laura? What did he say?’ encouraged Stephen.

  Laura was quiet for a moment. It would sound stupid, she knew. Pathetic even. But to her, it had meant a very great deal. Staying in Much Marlowes for Christmas had been a big step for her at the time, and had pretty much taken all her courage. Explaining it to complete strangers however would never do justice to how she had felt. She dropped her head, running a thumb over the smoothness of her finger nail. She was still staring at her hand when Stephens’s fingers slipped over her own. She looked up in surprise.

  ‘What did he say, Laura? Was he rude? Hurtful?’

  She nodded gently. ‘He made fun of me, it’s what he always does. Goading me for being on my own; a sad and lonely creature he called me, saying it’s no wonder no-one wants me, looking up at people the way I do with my big doe eyes. Like I wouldn’t say boo to a goose… Then he made some stupid joke about geese and Christmas and that what I needed was a good stuffing…’ The tears sprang to Laura’s eyes. ‘It was too much… especially coming from him, and it’s not like it was the first time he’d done it either. I just couldn’t bear it anymore.’

  Stephen’s fingers tightened over her own. ‘Bastard…’