‘She’s still married, isn’t she?’ she’d heard one customer ask another when she’d been in Bryony’s stock room.
‘Hasn’t been with that guitar fella five minutes before moving in with him. And he’s at least ten years younger than her. Shocking!’ another customer had said when she’d been working in Sam’s shop and had left the main room for a moment in search of a book.
But these silly women didn’t wound Polly as much as she’d thought they might. They could think what they wanted. She didn’t care because she’d found a good, gentle man whom she loved with all her heart.
Holding hands after jumping over a stile, she looked up at him and smiled.
‘We really should make a list,’ she told him.
‘What for?’
‘A list for Lilac Row. You know, for all the jobs that need doing.’
‘All in hand,’ he said.
‘Oh, you’ve made a list already?’
‘Don’t need to. It’s all up here,’ he said, tapping his forehead.
‘Okay,’ she said incredulously, ‘and what’s on this list?’
A slow smile spread across his face. ‘Number one, kiss Polly. Number two, hug Polly. Number three, kiss Polly some more.’ He leaned towards her and did just that, causing her to giggle.
‘I was thinking more along the lines of buying a new carpet for the living room and replacing the taps in the bathroom,’ she said.
Jago groaned. ‘Polly the practical.’
‘Get used to it.’
‘Mum’s always got lists,’ Archie said, stopping to let them catch up with him. ‘She even makes them for me. I don’t ask her to, but she does anyway.’
Jago laughed at that.
‘And then there’s the garden,’ Polly went on. ‘We shouldn’t need to buy too many plants. Mum said that Dad’s splitting perennials like there’s no tomorrow and he’s got heaps of herb cuttings on the go too.’
‘Okay. I didn’t understand a word of that,’ Jago said.
Polly grinned. ‘You will soon enough if you hang around with me and my dad.’
‘Mum’s plant crazy!’ Archie said. ‘She makes me grow them on my bedroom windowsill.’
‘It’s good to teach the importance of growing and nurturing things,’ she said, ‘and it’s a lot of fun too when you can eat what you’ve grown.’
‘That’s the bit I like best,’ Archie said.
They continued their walk through a small wood with Dickens the spaniel sticking his nose in the newly emerging bracken.
‘You look thoughtful,’ Jago said after a few minutes. ‘You okay?’
She nodded. ‘I’m worried about Bryony.’
‘You mean with Ben being back?’
‘I don’t think any of us really thought he was coming back. He’d been away for so long and it’s taken all this time for Bryony to move on,’ Polly said.
‘You really think she has moved on? I mean, she was pretty annoyed that Ben was there on Sunday.’
‘Well, she’s been dating Colin the baker, but I’m not convinced she’s really into him,’ Polly said, clipping the lead on to Dickens as they walked through a field of sheep. ‘And there’s something else.’
‘What?’
‘I feel really bad for welcoming Ben back with open arms. I could see how uncomfortable Bryony was about it all, but I was really pleased to see him.’
‘He was your friend too, wasn’t he?’ Jago pointed out.
‘Yes, of course. We all kind of grew up together.’
‘Then don’t feel guilty for having been pleased to see him.’
Polly chewed her lip, thinking of how awkward it must have been for her sister.
‘What do you think will happen?’ Jago asked. ‘Do you think Ben’s going to fight to get her back?’
Polly thought about this before answering. ‘I was watching him at the dining table and there was softness in his eyes every time he looked at Bryony,’ she told Jago. ‘You know, I don’t think he’s ever got over her.’
‘That’s going to be a problem,’ Jago said. ‘I mean, if she’s got over him.’
‘I’m not totally sure she has though.’
‘So, what’s keeping them apart? I mean if they haven’t got over each other and they still adore one another?’
‘Bryony’s pride? Her resentment at him leaving her? I don’t think she can ever forgive him for that. It was a terrible time. She was miserable for months, years. Nothing seemed to be able to shake her out of her mood. Taking over the children’s bookshop helped, but I don’t think she’s ever really healed. It was a long time before she dated again and each and every date has been rather half-hearted in my opinion. I feel sorry for the men she goes out with.’
‘What about Colin?’ Jago asked.
‘She’s never brought him to Sunday lunch.’
‘And that’s the litmus test, is it?’
‘It kind of is in our family.’
‘I remember when you first took me there.’
‘I’m sorry it was so awkward,’ Polly said with a little smile.
‘I guess it was my fault for dating Bryony,’ Jago said. ‘You know, when she went out with me, I never got the feeling she was still hung up about somebody else.’
‘No, you wouldn’t,’ Polly told him. ‘She’s very good at hiding things.’
Jago nodded. ‘I hope she finds some kind of peace soon. It sounds like she deserves it.’
‘Oh, she does,’ Polly said, ‘but I don’t think it’s on its way anytime soon.’
Bryony’s hands hovered over the keyboard of her computer. The shop was quiet. It had been all day. Colin had been in twice with little treats and she’d told him off twice. Really, her waistline didn’t stand a chance at this rate. She’d always been on the curvy side and didn’t want those curves getting any more pronounced just because a baker had a crush on her.
She really should do something about that. Both Polly and Sam had told her that she mustn’t string Colin along and she knew she wasn’t being fair to him because she was still looking at dating websites. But there was a part of her that couldn’t help thinking that having Colin around – as well as Sonny – would be the best possible deterrent when it came to Ben, and Colin was a sweet guy. Okay, so he didn’t read much, but nobody really did when compared to the Nightingales. Her family had set her up for perpetual disappointment when it came to meeting men because nobody could possibly have such an interest in books as them.
Ben did, a little voice said.
Yes, she acknowledged somewhat grudgingly. Ben had loved books almost as much as her family. She thought back to the books they’d shared and swapped as youngsters – that pure joy of talking about a story with a fellow addict, of exchanging thoughts about your favourite characters, analysing the most exciting scenes together and imagining yourselves in the world of the book you’d been reading. And Ben had read his way around the world too, hadn’t he? Not only had he sent her foreign editions of the greatest love stories, but he’d told her of the books he was reading too. Travel memoirs, mostly, and autobiographies. He was following in the footsteps of some of his heroes, guided up mountain passes and down into verdant valleys as he read their innermost thoughts set down years – sometimes centuries – before.
Ben got books. It was plain and simple. Colin didn’t. Well, he liked cookbooks, but he didn’t even have many of those. He preferred to use a big old family scrapbook of recipes scrawled in bad handwriting in faded ink and stained with odd blobs from busy kitchens.
If only Colin could be more like Ben, and Ben more like Colin, she thought. If only she could blend the two and give Ben Colin’s home-loving instinct so that he’d never want to leave Castle Clare. Colin would never leave the county. He’d once told Bryony that he’d had a day trip to Great Yarmouth and couldn’t wait to get back home. She’d laughed, but she’d completely understood the sentiment because she felt it too. She was happiest when she was at home, surrounded by her books, her home, her
family and friends.
But staying at home and leading a small life was proving difficult when it came to relationships. There were just so few men about or, at least, so few decent men who came into her life. Which was why she was still messing about on dating websites. She’d found a new one recently called Country Catches aimed at those living in rural communities. It was a fun site although she was still finding her way around it.
She did a search, choosing men under forty within a twenty-mile radius, and entering keywords to see if any matches came up. Men, books, reading, countryside.
Eleven matches came up and she scanned them, discounting a couple immediately who’d clearly lied about their age and were at least fifty. Her eyes settled on one image and she gasped because she’d been instantly drawn to the handsome face with its soft dark eyes and kind smile. Until she’d realised who it was.
Ben! Ben Stratton had registered on the dating website. Bryony gasped. What business had he barging back into her life if he was trying to date other women? Why, the cheek! How dare he?
Still, she couldn’t resist clicking on the profile.
Hi, I’m Ben. I’m Suffolk born and bred, but have spent the last few years travelling and reading my way around the world. Think Bear Grylls with a backpack full of books.
Very cute, Bryony thought. It was just the kind of profile she’d go for too if it wasn’t bloomin’ Ben Stratton. She read on.
But I’m back home now and looking to settle down with the right woman.
Bryony frowned. That didn’t sound very much like something Ben would say. Maybe he’d had help writing it, though.
I like a woman with a sense of humour.
What a cliché, Bryony thought.
Someone who enjoys reading and talking about books. Who likes romantic walks in the country and cosy chats by the fire, perhaps with a dog at her feet.
Bryony rolled her eyes. He was really going for it, wasn’t he?
I am kind and honest. I love to have a laugh and I like good conversation.
Bryony swallowed hard, acknowledging that there was a little part of her that envied the future woman who would enjoy conversations by the fireside with her Ben.
She hit the home page of the website, not wishing to read any more of Ben’s profile. It was then that she saw a little symbol in the top menu which she hadn’t noticed before and she clicked on it now.
‘Oh, wow!’ she cried as it revealed all the people who had clicked on her profile in the last few days. She grinned. She’d had quite a bit of interest by the look of it, including from a very cute science teacher called Arnie. For a moment, she wondered about clicking the “Ask me a question” button, but then realised that he hadn’t asked her one. Had he read her profile and decided she wasn’t for him? Or maybe her photo had put him off. Maybe science teachers didn’t like bohemian bookshop owners. Still, it was nice to have been noticed by him and maybe he’d return to her page in the future.
Bryony suddenly gasped as realisation dawned.
‘Oh, no. Oh, please no!’
She could feel a deep blush of mortification creep over her face. If she could see who’d looked at her profile, then Ben would be able to see that she’d looked at his, wouldn’t he?
Ben had had a tiring day’s teaching. Some lessons, he thought, seemed to make no real progress at all. They were just repeating what he’d thought he’d made clear in a previous lesson. He found that frustrating because he was the sort who liked to be moving forward and covering new ground. It had been like that on his travels too – once he felt he’d seen a place, his feet would itch to move on to the next. Of course, there’d been times when he’d had to take work and that meant staying in one place for a bit, but he was always happiest when on the move with a new adventure on the horizon. Until now.
He was crossing the car park and checking his messages on his phone when he saw one from a company he didn’t recognise.
‘What the blazes?’ He shook his head. No, that couldn’t be right.
It wasn’t until he got home that he realised what had happened.
‘Georgia?’ he called as he entered the hallway. She’d be home now from her job as a physiotherapist.
Sure enough, he found her in the living room, her feet up on the sofa.
‘Hey, Ben.’
‘Hey,’ he said. ‘I got an email today welcoming me to a dating service.’
‘Did you?’ Georgia said, not looking up from the magazine she was reading.
‘Yes, I did,’ he said curtly. ‘Wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?’
‘Me?’ she said innocently.
‘Yes, you!’
She didn’t answer for a moment.
‘Georgia?’
At last she looked up, waiting a moment as if gauging his mood. ‘Promise you won’t shout at me.’
‘What have you done?’ he asked.
‘Promise first.’
‘What have you done?’
She sighed. ‘Okay. I signed you up to that dating website.’
‘I knew it!’ Ben shouted. ‘What on earth did you do that for?’
‘Because you need to meet people, Ben. You’ve done nothing but skulk around since you got back and it’s driving me mad.’
‘Driving you mad? But I’m at work most of the time. How am I driving you mad?’
‘I mean, you’re always going on about Bryony. I think it’s time you met some other girls.’
Ben grabbed the laptop from the coffee table and logged on to the website, his eyes doubling in size as he read his profile.
‘Oh, my god! Did you really write this? I sound like a dork!’
‘No you don’t. You sound really hot and cool.’
‘Can you be both hot and cool?’
‘Totally.’
Ben sighed. ‘This is so bad.’
‘Look! It’s a really great site, Ben. There are loads of gorgeous girls on there.’
He swore. ‘I can’t believe you really did this, Georgia.’
‘You might be thanking me in a minute.’
‘You think?’
‘Oh, yeah! Guess who’s on there?’
‘Who?’
‘Your Bryony,’ Georgia said. ‘I signed you up so you could meet other women, but seeing she’s on there, and she’s looked at your page, I think you should message her.’
‘Wait – how do you know she’s looked at my page?’
‘It’s a new feature. Like a secret spy. You can see exactly who’s been looking at your profile.’
Ben watched as his sister moved forward and hit a little button on the menu bar.
‘Look – hundreds of women have been ogling you. Well, eight.’
‘Eight?’ Ben couldn’t help feeling a little wounded at the low figure.
‘It’s early days,’ Georgia reassured him.
‘Take it down,’ he told her.
‘What?’
‘Delete it. I want nothing to do with it.’
‘Oh, come on, Ben! Give it a chance.’
‘I don’t want to date other women.’
‘Just Bryony?’
He didn’t answer.
‘Well, if that’s the case, you should so message her!’ Georgia told him.
Ben frowned. ‘That’s a really bad idea.’
‘Why? She’s on there and you’re on there. Why shouldn’t you send her a quick hello. You don’t have to say much. Just make contact. You said yourself that talking to her face to face wasn’t working out. Maybe this platform could be the way forward. I mean, if you really can’t live without her.’
‘I don’t know,’ he said, scratching his chin.
‘What harm can it do? So she might ignore you. But she might not. You might be able to charm her with your words. Send her some poetry and stuff. You two used to like that sort of thing, didn’t you?’
Ben wanted to flash her another retort, but realised that she might actually be on to something. She was right – trying to talk to B
ryony hadn’t worked, but writing to her might just break down her defences. Provided he chose the right words, of course. But wasn’t that the very thing they had in common – the written word. He thought about the love and joy he’d filled his postcards with as he’d been travelling. She might never have written back, but he knew she would have read them just as she’d read any messages he sent her now.
‘I’ll leave you to it,’ Georgia said with a knowing wink. ‘You can thank me later.’
‘Yeah, we’ll see about that,’ he said as she left the room.
For a long time, Ben sat staring at the laptop and his profile on the dating site. He might have tried to sound cross with his sister but, deep down, Ben couldn’t help feeling just a little bit excited by the prospect of writing to his first love.
Chapter Nine
It was strange to be back in London, Ben thought the next day, crossing the concourse of Liverpool Street Station and heading for the underground. He’d spent a few days there at the beginning of his travels. As a Suffolk boy, London had been a destination on school trips and he remembered visiting the Natural History Museum and the National Portrait Gallery. The gallery was the one that had got him really excited because it had contained so many portraits of the writers he was beginning to appreciate.
He and Bryony had been fourteen years’ old and were meant to be filling out a questionnaire about the Tudors and then tracking down some boring politicians, but they’d naturally gravitated towards the writers, staring up at the haunting faces of the three Brontë sisters and marvelling at the luminescent skin of Lord Byron.
‘I want to be a writer,’ Ben had declared that day.
‘Do you?’ Bryony had looked surprised by this.
‘I want to write great adventure stories.’
She’d wrinkled her nose. ‘Write a love story.’
‘Men don’t write love stories!’
Bryony had gasped. ‘What do you think Shakespeare was writing? And Byron here? Some of the greatest love stories were told by men.’
‘Yeah, but I don’t want to write all that soppy stuff.’
She’d laughed and it had been such a joyous sound. He could still hear it echoing in his memory.
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