‘Rich? No, I—’
‘Hang on! Did you say Rich? As in Richard Green?’
‘I thought you knew…’
‘God no! So it was Jasmine?’
He gave a rueful smile.
‘And Dylan beat you up?’
‘To be fair, he probably had a point. She was happy and everyone loved Rich. Me putting my tuppence in really did put the cat among the pigeons.’
‘But you loved her. Falling in love with the wrong person isn’t a crime.’
‘No, it’s not. But it causes problems… Perhaps you and I are not as different as you might think.’
‘Maybe we should be miserable and perplexed by love together. We’ll make a stand against it: Down with love!’
‘There’s an idea.’ He raised his eyebrows and Millie couldn’t help but erupt into laughter. Spencer always had this calming effect on her. She wished that she could feel something more for him than friendship. He was a much better match than Dylan Smith, and yet she couldn’t get Dylan’s face out of her head.
‘I’m so glad you came to see me,’ she said.
‘And I’m glad you let me in. Are we going to get these boxes unpacked again?’
Millie cast her eyes over her half-packed belongings and shook her head. ‘Your situation is very different from mine. I have no ties here in the first place.’
‘What about the bakery?’
‘You mean the one I’ll never be able to afford to get up and running? Someone else can worry about it.’ She fished in the pocket of her jeans and drew out a key. ‘Want it?’ she asked, dangling it in front of him.
‘No, thanks,’ he laughed. ‘I think I’ll stick to teaching.’ His expression became serious again. ‘Where will you go?’
She shrugged. ‘I have no idea. I hear Scotland is nice at this time of year.’
‘Couldn’t you pick somewhere warmer? If I’m coming to visit you I don’t want to haul a load of thermal undies with me.’
‘You’d come to visit?’ Millie smiled.
‘Of course I would. Nobody should be friendless in this world. Maybe, before you decide, though, you should go and talk to the people you think you’ve wronged. You might find that they’re not as upset as you imagine.’
‘No, I don’t think so. It’s best all round if I go.’
16
Not in the mood for a conversation, Jasmine had waited at the far corner of the schoolyard and collected the triplets without so much as an exchange of pleasantries even with Spencer. Her mind was still full of the things she had seen and heard that morning, and the conversations she’d had with Dylan. He pretended to be ok, but behind that bravado he was still a vulnerable boy. If he had fallen for Millie then perhaps she owed it to him to speak to her, get Millie’s version of what really happened with Rowena’s brother and see where they could all go from there.
Walking home, the triplets had been full of their school day, squealing and laughing, hopping along kerbs, climbing fences, bickering and hugging alternately. It was white noise and Jasmine zoned it out, still lost in her thoughts, until Rebecca’s question jolted her back to reality.
‘Will Daddy still be at home?’
Jasmine turned sharply to her. ‘Of course. What makes you say that?’
‘I just thought… we thought…’ Her reply tailed off and she looked hopelessly at her siblings.
‘All families argue,’ Jasmine said in the most reassuring voice she could muster. ‘You three do it all the time.’
‘But we can’t get divorced,’ Rebecca said.
‘Neither can we,’ Jasmine smiled. ‘How would your daddy be able to find his socks in the morning if I wasn’t there to show him where they were?’
Rebecca looked distinctly relieved. ‘What are we having for supper?’
‘I don’t know. How do you fancy big greasy burgers?’
‘Yay!’ all three children chorused at once.
She smiled as she pushed open the gate, the children skirting the giant statue in the front garden, each one patting it affectionately as they passed. Jasmine had always made it her number-one priority to give them the best, most fulfilled and interesting childhood she could, and she harboured a hope that the little things, like patting Poseidon on the backside whenever they passed him, would give them wonderful memories of their childhood to cherish when she and Rich had long gone.
The door to the conservatory was open and they filed in, shedding school bags along the way, Jasmine collecting them up with a sigh. It didn’t matter how many times she told them to put things away, it never made a difference, and today she wasn’t in the mood to worry about it. She heard Rich’s voice drift through from the hallway as he greeted the triplets, and her heart seemed to beat out of time. She hoped she was wrong, that he had been full of bluster and hadn’t really meant any of the things he’d said the previous night. She hoped that he would take her in his arms and kiss her and tell her that he was sorry and that everything was alright. Because it was, wasn’t it? No matter how angry she had been with him she had never contemplated separation. Surely he felt the same? The oppressive, sultry heat that lingered throughout the house, warnings of the storm to come, seemed to mirror her mood and fears.
‘Why don’t you get changed out of your uniforms and then you can tell me all about it?’ Rich said to the kids as Jasmine appeared in the hallway door. She watched them nod eagerly and skip off up the stairs.
As soon as they were out of earshot, Rich turned on Jasmine, his voice urgent with barely contained irritation. ‘How is Dylan?’
‘He’s fine. Almost his normal self by the time I left.’
‘Did you take him to the emergency department? To see Dr Wood, at least?’
‘He’s fine. He slept whatever it was off.’
‘We should call the police. That woman is a danger to society.’
‘You’re overreacting,’ Jasmine replied tetchily. She had been just as angry herself that morning, but somehow Rich’s sense of drama seemed too exaggerated for what she had explained to him on the phone earlier. And now she was beginning to wish that she hadn’t told him quite so much. There was almost righteous glee in his voice. ‘Rowena has gone now, as far as I can tell. She did what she came to do.’
‘I’m not talking about Rowena. It’s all over the village…’
‘What is?’
‘That Millie got someone killed.’
‘You know how people gossip here. That’s a half-baked truth.’
‘Half-truth is still some truth.’
‘Don’t you think Millie’s been through enough? Don’t you think it’s bad enough that some nutter is stalking her across the country, spreading rumours about her so that idiots like you can spread them a bit more?’
‘You didn’t say that earlier—’
‘I was angry earlier! I was worried about Dylan. I wasn’t thinking straight. But you’ve had it in for Millie since she arrived. I can’t see what she’s ever done to you.’
‘You can’t see the evidence in front of your eyes? We’re having another blazing row about her! That’s what my problem is!’
‘And you started the row. I can’t believe you’re being so petty about this. You’re bigger than that, Rich. Or at least the man I married was.’
‘So you’re choosing a woman you barely know over me?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous! I’m just saying that we should give her a chance to tell her side of the story, not believe someone who has just turned up in the village, drugged and taken sexual advantage of someone, and then shouted a lot of very serious accusations around in the streets. I know who my money is on to be more reliable.’
Rich paused for a moment and then his voice dropped. ‘Why did Dylan let Rowena in?’
‘Because she said she wanted to talk to him about Millie.’
His look was triumphant. ‘There! It always comes back to her.’
‘Oh, grow up, Rich!’
‘I’m right about her and you can’t stand
it.’
‘You’re wrong. And you can’t stand that.’
‘I don’t need this on top of everything else.’ Rich pushed past her into the kitchen. She watched him march through the conservatory and out through the back door.
Silence echoed through the house. Jasmine was aware that the triplets had probably listened to the whole row. She would have to explain it to them later, but right now she was having a hard time even explaining it to herself. What had happened to their relationship? Rich was angry, and he was hurting, but the reasons he was giving didn’t seem enough on their own. And she couldn’t help but get defensive every time he pointed the finger of blame at Millie. He was right that they hardly knew her, but that didn’t make it ok to distrust her like that. The more she had thought about Millie through the day, and the more she and Dylan had talked about her and the things that had happened, the more she began to see that Millie was a victim. Whatever she had done, it didn’t justify the treatment she was getting. There was Dylan to think of too, who seemed to have genuine feelings for Millie, and must be hurting just as much right now for a relationship that appeared to be doomed before it had begun.
Wearily taking herself to the kitchen to start preparing their evening meal, she discovered that Rich had left his mobile phone behind. She let out a curse under her breath. Now she couldn’t contact him even if she wanted to, which was just another thing to feel aggrieved about. He had probably done it on purpose.
Pulling a pack of mince from the fridge, she set about making the homemade burgers she had promised the triplets, chopping and mixing like a robot, while her thoughts raced and swooped from one track to the next. Everyone seemed to be hurting in one way or another, and Jasmine hated to see it; she always wanted to fix everyone, and usually found a way, but not this time, it seemed.
Reuben sidled up to Jasmine. ‘Has Daddy gone out?’ She was dragged from her thoughts with a start.
‘I didn’t see you come in,’ she smiled. ‘Were you being extra sneaky?’
He smiled uncertainly. ‘Is Daddy having supper with us?’
‘I expect so. He went out to do something.’
‘What?’
‘A little errand. He won’t be long.’
Reuben was silent for a moment, and then nodded his head sombrely.
‘Go and play for a while.’ Jasmine broke an egg into a bowl.
‘Can we go outside?’
The sky was a leaden grey, low, like it was trying to smother the earth. ‘It looks like thunder is coming,’ she said, thinking about Rich and wondering whether he was indoors or not. ‘You should probably play upstairs. Do you have homework?’
Reuben shook his head. ‘Not tonight. I think Mr Johns was in a hurry because he said he was going to give us some but then he didn’t and he told us we could just go.’
‘Hmm. Ok then. Go and play, or you can watch TV. I’ll call you when your food is ready.’
‘What about Daddy? Are we going to wait for him?’
Jasmine looked through the windows again. ‘No. I think we’re on our own for a while.’
Supper was a subdued affair. The tension in the air was as palpable as the electricity building in the billowing clouds outside. Jasmine’s mood grew ever more anxious and irritable the longer Rich was absent, and the children instinctively picked up on it.
At seven thirty, Jasmine ran the first of three baths, one for each of the children, who now refused to share. Bath nights were a notorious drain on their evening time because of this and usually she and Rich did the chore between them. Tonight, it looked as though she was on her own. As she sat on the side of the tub, watching the water grow into a sea of bubbles, she thought about Rich’s phone, sitting on the kitchen worktop. She hated snooping… It was distasteful and made her feel like one of those women she had always sworn she wouldn’t be: suspicious, unreasonable, perpetually paranoid. Her trust in Rich had always been unshakeable, and yet, for the first time, the word affair began to sneak into her consciousness.
With the bathtub full of fragrant foam, made from one of Millie’s natural recipes, Jasmine called Reuben in first, leaving the two girls playing in the bedroom. Then she went back downstairs. There was no sign of Rich. She went to the windows, where the skies over the horizon were now so dark they were almost slate, and scanned the fields beyond the garden. Rich sometimes took himself for a walk when he wanted to think. But there was no familiar figure anywhere to be seen. She opened the front door and walked through the garden, shielding her eyes to better see down the path and into the distance, but it was still and quiet; that special hush before a storm where even the birds seemed to have gone into hiding to escape it.
Back in the house, she dried Reuben and put him into his pyjamas, repeating the whole process with the two girls until, at around nine, all three were in bed. But there was still no Rich.
Jasmine flopped onto the sofa and flicked on the TV. But she was tense and hyper-alert for any sign of Rich’s return and took nothing in. Finally, with an impatient sigh, she got up and fetched Rich’s phone.
The first thing she noticed was a missed call. OLLIE. Rich’s agent. Jasmine noted the time of the call with a frown. It had come in way after Ollie’s usual working hours. This could only be very good or very bad news. She thought about calling him back, but she didn’t often speak to Ollie and anyway, whatever the news, Rich deserved to hear it first.
Instead she went into his call history and was relieved to see that there didn’t seem to be any incongruous numbers listed there. She chided herself for being so silly, and was just about to put the phone back when something stopped her.
She had often complained to him that he didn’t use a pin code for his phone but right now, as she logged into his email account and scrolled through, she had never been more relieved that he’d ignored her advice.
At just after two that afternoon there had been an email from Ollie. Jasmine could see that it had been opened already and so Rich must have read it. Her finger hovered over it. She knew what she was about to do was probably unforgiveable, but she was beginning to feel as though her world was imploding. Rich was hiding something and she needed to know what it was. Without another thought, she opened it up and scanned the message.
Hi Rich,
I need to speak to you urgently. As you know, there has been some less than favourable feedback from the film people at World’s End Pictures and I’m afraid that they’re pushing for another composer. I’ve done my best to persuade them this is a bad idea, but I need to give them something from you to keep them on board. How is the project progressing? I’m afraid we’re going to lose this contract if I can’t give them something soon.
Give me a call when you get this.
Ollie
Jasmine read the email again. She checked to see if there were others but this was the one she kept coming back to. Rich had seemed agitated for weeks. She was used to him being tetchy whenever he was working on a new composition but it always settled once the job was done. Although he had been worse than usual this time, she put it down to the fact that this was the biggest contract of his career. He had never once confided in her that he was struggling to write, and although she had seen the signs, she hadn’t really understood the extent of the problem, believing that he would work through it eventually, as he had always done before.
Her gaze was drawn yet again to the skies outside and the knot of worry swelled into a boulder that lodged in her throat. From the call history it didn’t look as though Rich had called Ollie back. Was he too afraid to? If he had lost the contract it would tear him up. He had seen this as the turning point for the family’s fortunes and Jasmine knew that he would feel like an utter failure if it all went wrong. In that sort of mood, there was no telling what he might do. And she had driven him out; absorbed in her own problems she had not seen the signs, had not given him time to talk it through. If anything happened to him… Oh God, if anything happened it would be all her fault.
17
>
Spencer had stalled the packing process, but Millie had been grateful for his presence. She had opened a bottle of brandy and, pleasantly warmed by its effects, thoughts of belongings and boxes had almost disappeared from her mind, while thoughts of school marking had faded from his.
When the knock at the door boomed through the old bakery like a clap of thunder, Millie almost leapt from her seat. She shot Spencer an alarmed look. Rosy cheeked and a little the worse for wear, he gave her a benign smile.
‘It’ll just be Ruth,’ he said in a sleepy voice.
‘It’s a bit late for her.’ Millie glanced at her watch.
‘Yes, but you’ve presented her with a conundrum that she won’t be able to resist. If you don’t answer the door to her she’ll be up all night going mad with curiosity.’
‘I can’t talk to her now.’
Spencer shrugged. There was a second knock. Millie held her breath and placed a finger to her lips.
For a moment they sat in silence, staring at each other. She was just about to express her relief when a third knock was accompanied by a shout through the letterbox.
‘Millie!’
Spencer bolted upright, all signs of tipsiness suddenly vanished. ‘Dylan,’ he whispered.
‘What do you think he wants?’ Millie replied in equally hushed tones.
‘You, by the sounds of it.’
She shook her head. ‘I don’t know… I can’t face him now.’
‘I don’t think he’d be too pleased to see me here either.’
‘It’s got nothing to do with him,’ Millie fired back, suddenly feeling defensive on Spencer’s behalf. ‘I decide who I’m friends with.’
Spencer stared at her for a moment, and then burst out laughing. ‘He’s met his match in you, hasn’t he?’
‘It’s not funny.’
‘Yes, it is. We’re being ridiculous and paranoid. You should answer the door.’
Millie let out a sigh. ‘I suppose so.’
She flung it open to find Dylan on the doorstep. The moment she set eyes on him she found herself studying his face intently for signs of sickness or injury.
The Little Village Bakery: A feel good romantic comedy with plenty of cake (Honeybourne Book 1) Page 19
