Rules for a Successful Book Club (The Book Lovers 2)

by Victoria Connelly

  Jago, who was holding both guitars, handed the smaller of the two to Archie and followed him through to the living room whilst Polly returned to the kitchen. She stood aimlessly for a moment, not quite sure what to do. Of course, on a Saturday morning, there was always plenty to do. She could prepare something nice for lunch, sort out Archie’s bag for the school week ahead, tackle the mountain of ironing or give Dickens a good old trim.

  She started with the ironing, working her way through shirts, skirts and trousers. She then got hold of Dickens and, much to his alarm, went to work with a pair of scissors, neatening his ears and tail before trimming the beautiful feathering on his legs which was a complete mud magnet at this time of year.

  Then it was time for Archie’s bag. Leaving a stunned Dickens to sleep off his shock, she went upstairs to her son’s room where she found his little rucksack. Taking it back downstairs, she unzipped it, finding his homework diary and checking that everything was in tiptop order. It was as she was returning the diary and taking out some of the rubbish that had accumulated in the bag that she found a letter from the head teacher. It was dated the week before and it was about something that was happening today.

  Without thinking, Polly walked through to the living room.

  ‘Archie?’ He looked up from his guitar. ‘What’s this?’

  He looked at the letter as though he’d never seen it before. ‘Don’t know.’

  ‘Your school’s having a “Bring and Bake” today at the village hall in Castle Clare.’

  ‘Is it?’

  ‘Yes, it is.’

  He was still looking blankly at her as if to ask how an earth did that affect him.

  ‘So that means I have to get a move on.’

  ‘You’re going to bake something?’

  ‘Of course,’ Polly said, feeling that it was her civic duty. ‘We all have to support the school.’

  Jago got up from the sofa.

  ‘Oh, don’t let me disturb you,’ she said, suddenly realising that she’d interrupted them.

  ‘It’s okay,’ Jago said. ‘We’re pretty much done.’

  ‘Make your chocolate brownies, Mum, and leave plenty for us to eat,’ Archie said as he and Jago followed Polly through to the kitchen, guitar lesson forgotten.

  Polly rifled through the cupboards, checking that she had enough ingredients.

  ‘Can I do anything to help?’ Jago asked.

  ‘You sure you’ve got time for this?’

  ‘Yes. My next pupil sent a text whilst I was with Archie. They’ve had to cancel their lesson this morning.’

  ‘Oh, I see.’

  ‘So I’d love to stay and help.’

  ‘Okay, then,’ Polly said. ‘Can you bring out that nice big bowl from the dresser cupboard?’

  Jago walked across the kitchen and found the big mixing bowl, placing it on the kitchen table.

  ‘Thanks,’ Polly said as she buzzed from cupboard to cupboard assembling the ingredients which included a wonderfully unhealthy assembly of butter, muscovado sugar, cocoa powder, chocolate and icing sugar.

  ‘Did you want to chop the chocolate?’ Polly asked Jago.

  ‘Sure thing,’ he said, moving across to the sink and washing his hands before drying them on a towel. Archie followed suit and then Polly handed Jago a chopping board and a large block of dark chocolate. ‘Archie, you can sift the flour and the cocoa powder into the bowl.’

  Polly got on with melting the butter in a big pan before adding the sugar and stirring with a wooden spoon. She turned around from the cooker to see Jago and Archie working together at the kitchen table.

  ‘Erm, Archie, at least some of that chocolate has got to make it into the brownie recipe,’ Polly said with a warning glare.

  ‘Yep,’ Jago said. ‘A brownie without chocolate would taste pretty foul.’ He popped a square of chocolate into his own mouth and Archie giggled.

  Polly shook her head. ‘You’re not being a very good role model,’ she said to Jago, but her voice was an inch away from laughter.

  ‘I can’t remember the last time I baked anything,’ Jago said. ‘It was probably at school.’

  ‘Now you’re making me feel old,’ Polly said.

  ‘I was pretty lazy at university,’ he confessed.

  ‘Isn’t everybody?’ Polly asked with a grin.

  ‘I didn’t even cook properly, let alone bake,’ he said.

  ‘I like baking,’ Polly admitted. ‘It helps me relax.’

  ‘I like you baking, Mummy,’ Archie said. ‘Especially chocolate brownies.’

  Slowly, the ingredients were assembled together with only the smallest amount of flour wafting up into Archie’s hair from the sieve and the tiniest amount of chocolate smearing his mouth.

  Soon, the kitchen was filled with the warm chocolatey aroma of the brownies.

  ‘That,’ Jago said, ‘is the most glorious smell ever.’

  Polly beamed him a smile. ‘It’s pretty good, isn’t it?’

  ‘Mum’s are the best brownies in the whole world,’ Archie said. ‘They always sell as soon as she puts them on the table.’

  ‘I can believe it,’ Jago said. ‘I can’t wait to try one.’

  ‘Mum will probably charge you for it,’ Archie said.

  ‘Oh, Archie! I wouldn’t do that.’

  ‘Well, what if I make a donation when we drop them off?’ Jago asked.

  ‘That would be very kind,’ she told him. ‘Cup of tea whilst we wait?’

  ‘Thanks,’ he said. He walked across to the sink and washed his hands again. Archie joined him and Polly watched in amusement as they had a mini play fight in the warm water.

  Jago then surprised her by making a start on the dishes, washing up all the bowls and spoons that had been used in the brownies’ creation.

  ‘You don’t need to do that,’ she told him as she made them both a cup of tea.

  ‘It’s okay,’ he said.

  She watched him as he dried his hands on a tea towel. She liked his hands and she couldn’t help wondering what it would feel like to hold them. She imagined that they would be warm and strong and that her own small, cool hands would feel safe and secure inside them.

  She shook her head and turned away quickly, horrified that such a thought had entered her mind.

  ‘Polly?’ he said. ‘You okay?’

  ‘I’m good.’ Her voice sounded croaky and nervous. She cleared her throat. ‘I’m good,’ she said again as if trying to convince herself.

  They took their tea into the living room and Archie immediately picked up Jago’s guitar and started strumming.

  ‘Is he meant to be playing that?’ Polly asked in alarm as she sat on the sofa and was joined by Jago.

  ‘He’s okay,’ he told her.

  The picture of her small son holding the grown-up sized guitar touched her deeply.

  ‘Have you thought any more about buying him his own–?’

  ‘I’ll get him one,’ Polly said.

  Archie looked up at her. ‘You’re going to buy me my own guitar?’

  Polly smiled. ‘Yes,’ she said, suddenly realising that it was absolutely the right thing to do. She didn’t care how much it cost or how many belts would have to be tightened or how many extra classes she’d have to teach in order to do it. Archie would have his own guitar.

  ‘Thanks, Mum!’ Archie said, placing the guitar carefully on the chair behind him and flying across the room to hug his mum.

  ‘Careful of my tea!’ she cried.

  ‘I’m going to have my own guitar, Jago!’ he said.

  ‘That’s great, Arch!’

  ‘Is it for my birthday?’ Archie asked.

  ‘No,’ Polly said. ‘This is just something you’re going to have as soon as possible.’

  ‘When’s your birthday, Arch?’ Jago asked.

  ‘Not until March.’

  ‘Will you help me choose one for him?’ Polly asked Jago.

  ‘It would be my pleasure,’ he said.

  ‘Be
cause I’ve not got a clue what I’m doing.’

  ‘Wow, Mum! This is brilliant.’

  She cupped Archie’s beaming face in her hands and kissed him loudly on the cheek, making him squirm and giggle like the baby he’d once been.

  The cooker timer interrupted them and Polly leapt to her feet, her mug of tea in her hand. Jago and Archie followed her through and watched as she opened the oven door and brought out the two trays of brownies.

  ‘Oh, yum!’ Archie said, sniffing appreciatively.

  Polly placed them onto the kitchen worktop to cool for a moment and then popped them onto a cooling rack and gave them a dusting of icing sugar. They looked splendid and the three of them looked at their creation with nothing short of lust in their eyes and greed in their bellies.

  ‘Are they cool enough to eat yet, Mum?’

  Polly gave one a little nudge with her forefinger. ‘I think so,’ she said, ‘but just one each, okay?’

  Jago and Archie nodded.

  Nothing could come close to the taste of an oozey chocolatey brownie fresh from the oven on a cold winter’s day when the rain was pattering against the window, Polly thought. The three of them stood in the kitchen without the ceremony of plates or napkins, stuffing their faces with the chocolate brownies and, at that moment, none of them could think of a greater pleasure.

  ‘We’d better get these delivered,’ Polly said at last, washing her hands in the sink whilst Jago and Archie licked their fingers clean.

  ‘What about lunch, Mum?’ Archie asked and Polly realised how late it was.

  ‘We’ve got to get straight out with these, darling.’

  ‘How about stopping off at the chippy in Castle Clare once we’ve delivered them?’ Jago suggested.

  ‘Fish and chips?’ she said.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Oh, can we, Mum?’ Archie begged.

  ‘I don’t see why not,’ Polly said. ‘But you don’t have to come with us, Jago. I’m sure you’ve got other things to do on a Saturday.’

  ‘Nope,’ he said.

  ‘And you’re sure you want to come into town to deliver some brownies to a village hall and then have fish and chips with us?’

  ‘Sure. Why not? It sounds good fun to me.’

  Archie was smiling from ear to ear at the idea.

  ‘Well, okay I guess,’ Polly said, feeling just a tad anxious at how easily Jago slipped into their lives. It all felt so wonderfully natural, but she couldn’t help worrying about it too because, since Sean had disappeared, she’d got used to the fact that life was just her and Archie. She’d adapted. It hadn’t been much fun, but she’d got on with things. She’d managed. And now here was this kind young man with his passion and enthusiasm for all life had to offer. Why he wanted to spend quite so much time with them was baffling to Polly and yet she didn’t want to question him too closely for fear of driving him away.

  The truth was she liked having him there. Perhaps she liked having him there a little bit too much because the feelings that were growing inside her were beginning to scare her.

  ‘I’ll get my handbag,’ she said. ‘Put your coat on.’

  ‘I will,’ Jago said.

  Polly laughed. ‘I meant Archie, silly!’

  He winked at her. ‘And here was me thinking that you cared about me.’

  Polly felt momentarily stunned not just by the wink, but by the emotions she was beginning to feel for this young man.

  CHAPTER THİRTEEN

  They drove to Castle Clare in Polly’s Land Rover, finding a parking space outside the church which was very handy for the chip shop later. They walked the short distance to the village hall which was bustling with people even though it had only just opened for business. Tables with pretty cloths had been laid out with cakes, flapjacks, pies, jams and chutneys made by parents, neighbours and friends of the school. Boxes of jumble were being plundered by bargain hunters and there was a brisk trade at the two rails of clothing set up on the village hall stage.

  ‘I really missed this sort of thing when I was in America,’ Jago told Polly. ‘There’s something a little bit special about a small English community, don’t you think?’

  ‘I do,’ she said. ‘I love the way that you can see home-baking next to hand-knitted clothing and pots of jam and jumble. All life is here.’

  Polly handed over her brownies to the lady in charge of the home-baking table and watched as they began to sell almost immediately. She looked at the splendid display of baking, her mouth watering at the caramel squares and the Victoria sandwich, and she bought a box of jam tarts in jewel-like colours which she knew would go down well with Archie come tea time.

  Archie tugged his mother’s sleeve. ‘It’s Tiger,’ he said, nodding across the room towards his friend. ‘Can I go and see him?’

  ‘Okay,’ Polly said, ‘but don’t forget we’re going for fish and chips soon.’

  She watched as her son wove his way through the crowds to get to his friend and that’s when she saw Winston Kneller. He waved to her and ambled over, holding up an old carrier bag.

  ‘Just got the last of Honey Digger’s triple chocolate chip cookies,’ he said. ‘Going to have them with my tea.’ He looked up at Jago who was a good foot taller than him. ‘Hello, young man.’

  ‘Hello, Winston,’ Jago said.

  ‘You two together, are you?’ Winston asked, looking from one to the other and back again.

  ‘No!’ Polly all but screamed. ‘We’re here together.’

  ‘Righty ho,’ Winston said and he tipped his hat at them and made his way towards the door and home with his chocolate chip cookies.

  ‘You okay?’ Jago asked her.

  Polly nodded but she was feeling far from okay. She felt flustered. ‘I think we should eat,’ she said.

  ‘Don’t you want to look around first?’

  ‘No,’ Polly said shortly. She did not want to look around, not when she felt as if everybody was looking at her and Jago and making the assumption that they were a couple.

  ‘I’ll round up Archie,’ Jago said, going off in search of the boy.

  She watched as he made his way through the room. He was so much taller than everybody else and it didn’t take him long to find Archie and bring him back.

  ‘Tiger’s bought a really cool robot. It’s really old. It’s like ancient,’ Archie said.

  ‘An ancient robot? Isn’t that an oxymoron?’ Jago asked with a laugh.

  ‘No, I think it’s a Transformer,’ Archie said in all seriousness which made Polly laugh.

  ‘Come on,’ she said, placing her hand on his shoulder, ‘let’s get something to eat.’

  They left the village hall together and Polly was aware that the likes of Honey Digger and Antonia Jessop were watching their every move. Oh, the curse of living in a small community, Polly thought. But she had to admit to being just as bad herself when it came to people watching. Didn’t she like to examine and speculate? Wasn’t it fun to imagine what might be going on with one’s neighbours? It really did go hand-in-hand with living in such a place.

  Castle Clare’s chip shop was a takeaway and it was much too cold to think about eating outside on a bench so, grabbing their piping hot packages which smelled wonderfully vinegary, they made their way back to Polly’s car.

  ‘You don’t mind eating them in here, do you? We can crank the heating up,’ Polly suggested as they all got into the car.

  ‘Sounds good to me,’ Jago said. ‘That village hall was bloody freezing.’

  ‘I was bloody freezing in there too,’ Archie said.

  Jago cleared his throat as he realised his mistake. ‘Erm, sorry,’ he said to Polly whose mouth was hanging open. ‘You know, you really shouldn’t swear, Arch.’

  ‘But you just swore,’ Archie pointed out from the back seat behind them both.

  ‘I know I did and it’s an appalling habit and I’m going to stop right now,’ Jago said, his tone deadly serious.

  The car windows were soon foggy with
the steam from the food. Polly couldn’t remember the last time she’d had fish and chips. It had been something that would never have crossed Sean’s mind and he certainly wouldn’t have enjoyed the experience of eating them in his pristine car. His Land Rover had been his pride and joy and Archie hadn’t even been allowed to unwrap a mint humbug inside it. She wondered what Sean would make of the scene now and then felt instantly guilty at being there with a Jago. But what was it everyone kept telling her? Life goes on. Oh, how she hated that platitude and yet she knew she needed to come to terms with it because life was pretty lonely without a partner and she’d come to love Jago’s company even if it was wildly inappropriate to admit that.

  She looked at him now as he half-turned in the passenger seat so he could talk to Archie on the back seat. She wasn’t really listening to what they were saying, but how she loved the comfort of their voices which were always so happy together. They fitted together, she thought. Like melody and harmony; the one perfectly balanced and complemented the other.

  ‘What do you think?’ Jago asked, suddenly turning his eyes on her.

  ‘Sorry?’ Polly said, almost swallowing a chip whole.

  ‘Mum was zoned out again,’ Archie said in a sing-song voice.

  Jago waved his hand. ‘It wasn’t important.’

  ‘No, what was it?’ Polly asked.

  ‘Don’t worry about it.’

  ‘Tell me!’ Polly said, anxious to hear it now.

  ‘Jago wants to know if we’d like to go and hear him sing sometime.’

  ‘Oh,’ Polly said. ‘Like Bryony did last night?’

  ‘No, not exactly,’ he said. ‘I was thinking more of an audience of two.’

  Polly frowned. ‘Just us two?’

  Jago nodded. ‘I’ve got a new song I want to try out.’

  ‘Oh, so we’re your guinea pigs now, are we?’

  He laughed. ‘If I can get away with it.’

  ‘What do you think, Archie?’ Polly asked, turning around to face her son. ‘Do you want to hear Jago singing one of his own songs?’

  ‘Yeah!’ Archie cried. ‘Can we hear it now?’

  Jago shook his head. ‘Got to have my guitar.’

  ‘Can’t you sing without it?’ Archie asked.