A Brit on the Side (Castle Calder Book 1)

by Brenda St John Brown

  Lou lets out a low laugh. “She’s not wrong, but you should see for yourself as part of your great British summer.”

  “Every little helps,” Hannah adds.

  They both laugh and I smile a little. “What’s so funny?”

  “It’s an old advert for one of the supermarket chains. It’s probably not funny to you,” Lou says.

  “I need to watch more TV. Pop culture references go right over my head.” I smile. “To be fair, American pop culture references go right over my head too, though.”

  “Which is a travesty,” Scarlett says as the door swings open. “You know it’s bad when I’m the one explaining America’s Next Top Model.”

  “Where’s Brigid, darling?” Hannah asks.

  “She’s popped to the loo and I said I’d get us a drink and some cake. This bridal business is hard work,” Scarlett says. She glances at me. “There but for the grace of God and all of that. Seriously, I don’t think you want to do this.”

  “Too many conversations about the food matching the flowers?” I ask.

  “For this whole wedding being a last-minute arrangement, Brigid has an awful lot of opinions is all I’m saying.” Scarlett goes over to the counter where the bread and cake are lined up. “What can I have from over here, Lou? Whatever you’ve got is fine, but I’d love some chocolate.”

  “Take the Malteser cake.” Lou doesn’t even look up from the pile of vegetables in front of her. “And the water’s hot for a pot of tea. We probably even have some finger sandwiches if you want some proper food.”

  “I should. We’re going to be at it awhile.” Scarlett sighs, then says to me, “If you’re not busy, feel free to join us. Maybe the voice of experience will help?”

  Technically I didn’t get very far with my wedding planning. My mother, on the other hand, was gung ho. That right there probably should have been a sign. I shake my head. “I’m actually going to Manchester with Jasper to get the chairs.”

  “Oh, make him take you to San Carlo for dinner,” Scarlett says. “It’s amazing and right downtown, so you’ll get to see the city, too.”

  “I thought you hated Manchester?” I feel my face scrunch up as I ask the question.

  “That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t see it. It’s got a lot of history and Jaz knows it all. He’s a wealth of useless information, but in this case you’ll probably learn something interesting,” Scarlett says. She grabs a tray from a shelf and I reach for cups and saucers.

  As I fill a teapot with water from the industrial size kettle, Lou says, “Manchester’s the second largest city in England and was key to the Industrial Revolution. It’s still the major employment hub in the north.”

  “See?” Scarlett says, placing a ceramic jug of milk on the tray. “You’re learning interesting things already.”

  I laugh. “I have high hopes then for the rest of the day.”

  An hour later as Jasper and I careen down a winding country road in the Castle Calder white utility van, my only hope is I won’t puke all over the floorboards. The manual shift combined with a fair amount of sudden braking has made me so nauseous, I have to hang my face out of the window. I don’t even care that my hair is a rat’s nest and I’ve got drool on my chin.

  “We’ll be on the motorway in less than five minutes,” Jasper says. “This van doesn’t have the best suspension.”

  I nod, but I don’t speak until we’re done merging onto the highway. “Okay, I have to tell you, if you drive like that on the way back, I will throw up on you.”

  “What? My driving is fine.” Jasper’s voice rises an octave. I can’t tell if it’s in surprise or disagreement.

  “I’m here to tell you that no, it really is not.” I comb my fingers through my hair to pull it back into a messy ponytail. “Bad suspension or not, you need to cool it on those turns.”

  He laughs. “Cool it on those turns? Is that technical advice?”

  “If you learned to drive with my mother, it is. And since I learned to drive with my mother, well…” Now that I feel less pukey, I even manage a small smile.

  “And I suppose she taught you the intricacies of the thingamajig and doohickey as well?”

  “My mother’s method of driver’s education was a combination of reciting from the manual of our Toyota Camry and blind panic when I actually took the wheel. She actually made me read the entire owner’s manual cover to cover before she let me in the driver’s seat. Then she’d choose a section to review aloud before every driving session.” I roll my eyes. “However, her knowledge seemed to disappear in direct correlation to my speed. By the time we hit I-75 to practice driving on the highway, she could only manage things like, ‘Cool it on those turns.’”

  Jasper laughs, the sound deep and rich. “Sounds like a great experience for you both.”

  “I wouldn’t go that far. She still hates driving with me. I don’t think she can help seeing sixteen-year-old me behind the wheel and it terrifies her. Who taught you to drive?”

  “My dad. He was pretty relaxed about it, though.”

  “Yeah. I can tell.”

  Jasper laughs again and our whole trip to Manchester is like this. We take turns telling inane stories and our conversation is punctuated by laughter. It brings up memories of Atlanta Jasper, but I quickly shove those down. Remembering Atlanta Jasper hasn’t worked very well so far and this is honestly the most comfortable I’ve felt with him the whole summer. If this is getting to know each other like we never shagged, I’ll take it.

  “So, are you hungry or should we collect the chairs first?” Jasper asks as we follow the directions on the GPS to take the exit.

  “Food. I’m starving. Plus, it gives me more time to digest in anticipation of the return trip.” I grin.

  “I’m going to ignore your comment, thank you very much. But I agree. I’m starving, too. How about we park by George’s and walk? It’s a little far, but we’ll see more of the city.”

  “I hear you’re full of fun facts about Manchester,” I say.

  Jasper glances at me and wriggles his eyebrows. “I’m full of fun facts about everything.”

  If we hadn’t made our agreement, I’d call his tone flirtatious. Instead, I ignore it and say, “Okay, hit me. What’s the coolest thing you know about Manchester?”

  Jasper doesn’t even hesitate. “The coolest scientific thing I know is the atom was first split by Ernest Rutherford in Manchester in 1919. In fact, over twenty Nobel Prize winners have studied at the University of Manchester, which is incredible. The coolest general thing I know is Charles Dickens’ novel, Hard Times, is supposedly based on Manchester.”

  “Wow, it’s three for the price of one fact day.” I can’t help smiling. “Scarlett’s fun fact was it rains at least half the year here.”

  “Also true.” Jasper eases the white van over to the curb in front of a seventies-style apartment building. “The blue skies you see now will likely be gone soon, so make sure you’re appreciating them.”

  “I’ve learned to appreciate the sun more this summer than I ever have.” I unbuckle my seatbelt as Jasper turns off the ignition. “We’re here, I presume?”

  He nods. “We’ll go knock and tell George we’ll be back later.”

  He hops out of the van and I do the same, following him through the glass door of the building. The hallway is dim, but Jasper doesn’t hesitate, striding down until he gives a sharp knock on a wooden door to the left. It’s opened a few seconds later by a short gray-haired woman who throws her arms around Jasper’s chest and says, “Well, shine a light, it really is you.”

  “Hiya, Rose. You’re looking lovely, as always.” Jasper kisses her cheek and then waves me forward. “This is Bea. She’s a friend of Scarlett’s who’s helping out this summer.”

  Rose squints at me and smiles. “Hannah said you were coming. Pleasure to meet you. Come in, come in. We’ll have a cuppa.”

  Jasper holds his hand up. “Actually, Bea and I are going to walk downtown and grab a bite befor
e we load up, so maybe we could have a cup of tea and a proper chat when we come back? Bea’s never been to Manchester before, so I promised to show her the sights and regale her with fascinating facts.”

  Rose squints at me a little harder. “That’s right. You’re American, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I’m from Atlanta.” My voice slips into a southern drawl. Where the hell did that come from?

  Jasper glances at me like he’s wondering the same thing and says to Rose, “If we come back in a few hours or so, is that okay?”

  Rose nods. “Of course, of course. Take your time. Are you sure you don’t want a lift over? It’s a fair walk, you know.”

  “It will be good to stretch our legs.” Jasper takes a step back. “I’ll text you when we start walking back and we can catch up then.”

  Rose promises some sort of biscuits as well as tea and then Jasper and I are on our way. Once we’re back out on the sidewalk he says, “We can cab it if you want. I didn’t want Rose to feel like she had to take us.”

  “I’m okay to walk. How do you know her?” Because she seems a lot more familiar than a vendor/supplier normally would.

  “Rose and George used to live in the village and Rose helped out in the kitchen sometimes back when Mum and Dad first bought the place. George had an events supply company, everything from marquee to tables and chairs to those huge stands companies rent out for exhibitions. About five years ago, they decided they wanted to be closer to their grandchildren, so they moved over to Manchester. They’ve kept the rentals business on the side, but most of their inventory has been sold off,” Jasper says.

  “So your parents give them some business every once in a while?”

  “Don’t let the apartment fool you. They have a gorgeous place in Mallorca where they spend at least half the year.” Jasper points and we turn right. “They were kind of like my surrogate grandparents when I was a kid. Rose, especially.”

  “Where are your real grandparents? Scarlett never mentions them.” I don’t realize until I hear myself say it that this is true. In all the years I’ve known Scarlett, I’ve only heard her mention a dead grandmother.

  “My mum’s parents are dead. They’re the ones who left my mum their estate that basically enabled my parents to buy Castle Calder.” Jasper pauses. “And my dad’s parents are who knows where. We don’t see them and he doesn’t keep in touch.”

  “Why not?” I blurt the question out without thinking and then wince. “Sorry, it’s none of my business.”

  Jasper shrugs. “They fell out because my dad was engaged to marry someone else when he met Mum. Apparently the other woman was wealthy and gorgeous and perfect in every way except one. My dad didn’t love her enough not fall in love with someone else.”

  “Wow. And they thought he was making a mistake?”

  “The way Dad puts it, they didn’t support his choice. He thought they’d come around, but when he formally ended his engagement, apparently they had a huge row and stopped speaking to him. He and Mum invited them to the wedding, but they sent their regrets and that’s the last he’s ever heard from them.” Jasper’s tone is matter-of-fact, the sound of someone unaffected.

  But mine is astonished with tinges of angry. “That’s completely screwed up. They don’t get to have a say in who their son wants to spend his life with. It’s his life.”

  “Says the girl whose mother doesn’t think she should have ended her own engagement?” Jasper’s arm winds around my shoulders to steer me down a street on the left. I expect him to drop it immediately, but we take ten more steps before he does, shoving his hands in his pockets and saying, “Are you ever going to tell me about that?”

  I shove my hands in my own pockets. “About what? My mother or my engagement?”

  “Either.” Jasper bites his lip. “Both.”

  A week ago, I would’ve clammed up, sure Jasper would somehow use my past as ammunition, but now… Maybe it’s the sun. Maybe it’s the easy banter we’ve had all day. Hell, it could be the alignment of the stars. But all I know is my words tumble out like I have to tell him. “There’s not much to tell on either front. My mom’s great, but she’s really enthusiastic. About everything. Which can get kind of overwhelming. My dad took off pretty early on, so it’s been only the two of us for ages. I don’t like hurting her feelings, so I’m not firm enough about setting boundaries. The end result is we have a lot of non-conversations because she wants to know everything about my life and I don’t want to tell her because I can’t deal with her eagerness. She’d probably know a lot more if she could muster up some thinly veiled disinterest every once in a while.”

  “Nothing like some thinly veiled disinterest to get you through the day.” Jasper smiles. “And she didn’t approve of you calling off your engagement?”

  “No. She thinks Theo is amazing, and he is. He ticks all the boxes, but something was missing. My mother said maybe I wasn’t trying hard enough, but I don’t think you’re supposed to have to try so hard. It felt like a sign things weren’t right, you know?” I let out a long sigh and kick a battered Pepsi can on the sidewalk. It makes a satisfying thonk as it hits the pavement. “Why are we talking about this, again? I thought you were supposed to be regaling me with historical facts and figures about the great city of Manchester?”

  Jasper stops in the middle of the sidewalk and from the look he gives me, I think for a second he’s going to revert to type or, worse, call me on my avoidance tactics. He does neither. Instead, he spreads his arms and says, “I have been remiss. So begins your tour of Manchester, great industrial city of the north. Please pay attention. There may be a quiz at the end.”

  For the rest of our walk, Jasper is interesting as well as entertaining. He makes me laugh so much that if I didn’t know better, I’d think he was treating this like a date. And when he pulls my chair out for me once we reach San Carlo I can’t stop myself from asking, “Okay. What’s the deal? Why are you being so nice?”

  “Am I not supposed to be nice?” Jasper asks, sitting down across from me.

  “Yes, of course, but why are you acting like the perfect date all of a sudden?” My hand flies to my mouth. “And shit. I didn’t mean it like that.”

  Jasper doesn’t say anything for a second, but when he does it’s not at all what I expect. “A/B testing. Plan A has been shit, so I’m trying Plan B.”

  I tilt my head like it will help me make sense of his statement. It doesn’t. “I don’t understand what you mean.”

  Jasper doesn’t reply. Instead, he looks at the menu, signals the waitress over, and orders a basket of bread, half a carafe of wine, and some olives. Then he places his elbows on the table and leans towards me, saying, “I’m a scientist. My approach to things is fairly methodical and, as I said the other night, I want to have a different relationship with you than the one we’ve had since you’ve arrived. To me, that means changing the way I’ve been doing things, since that obviously hasn’t been successful. Hence plan B.”

  I nod slowly. “Okay. Which is what, exactly?”

  “Um…” Jasper’s expression changes and for a second he looks so vulnerable and unsure it makes my heart feel like he reached over and squeezed it. “Pretend you’re someone I don’t know and don’t have history with? Kind of like a semi-blind date.”

  I nod again. “So this is you on your best blind date behavior?”

  A flicker of irritation crosses Jasper’s face, but it’s replaced by a smile. “Sort of. Maybe. I’ve never had a good blind date, so the outcome remains to be seen.”

  There are a hundred different directions this conversation could go. At least half of them involve me prodding to the point where Jasper gets irritated and shuts down. But then I look at Jasper’s face across the table, uncertain yet hopeful, and only one response feels right.

  I smile and pick up the wine the waitress pours and places in front of me, signaling Jasper to do the same. When he does I clink my glass gently to his and say, “I’ve never had a good bl
ind date either. So here’s to blind dates. I say we make this the best blind date we’ve never had.”

  Jasper takes a sip of his wine. “Starting now?”

  I take a sip of mine, too, and nod. “Starting now.”

  Chapter Twenty

  I don’t know if it’s calling it a date or if it’s the hormones swirling between us, but the rest of our evening is so full of flirtation it feels like foreplay – right down to the butterflies in my stomach when Jasper pulls me out of the way of an oncoming cyclist and I end up plastered against him. I expect him to let go of me right away, but his arm lingers around my waist and I’m pretty sure I’m not the only one thinking it would be nice to stay this way for another minute or ten.

  “Thanks.” My voice is low.

  “Saved your life.” Jasper grins and dips his head towards mine. For one wild second I think he’s going to kiss me, but he simply pushes his glasses back up his nose.

  His arm stays where it is and I’m tempted to slide my own arm around his back, but I don’t. I’m not sure what’s happening here, but Jasper’s told me he’s skittish often enough for me to let him set the pace. So I grin back and say, “Well, I’m obviously forever in your debt now.”

  “Yes.” He lets go of me and does a small fist pump, which makes me giggle.

  “You realize that means I’ll, like, do your chores at the castle or something, right? I don’t mean actual debt. I’m a teacher and I have no money.”

  He reaches for my hand and threads his fingers through mine. “Oh, it’s not your money I want, Beatrice. Trust me.”

  Okay. If I had any doubts about the turn this evening has taken, they’re disappearing now. Rapidly.

  Jasper raises his eyebrows and takes a step. He looks at me again and takes another step, his hand still clasped with mine. I squeeze lightly, put on my best southern drawl, and say, “Why, Jasper St Julien, I do believe you are flirting with me.”