Return to Bluebell Hill

by Rebecca Pugh

  Jessica took one of the oval leather chairs, Mr and Mrs Dawson taking the remaining seats, sitting close together. She glanced across at them, in disbelief once more at how unsuited they were for Bluebell House. Mrs Dawson’s heels would never do in the garden. And did she know, Jessica wondered, that there were no flashy places in Bluebell Hill for her to swan about in? There wasn’t even a hairdressers, for God’s sake. And Mr Dawson? Well, she could tell already that he was a workaholic just by looking at him. She noticed, too, that his wife looked to be much, much younger than him, rapping her acrylic nails impatiently on the desk in front of them. Her blonde hair was curled and long, her make-up perfectly applied and flawless. No, they were never going to fit in.

  Jessica thought back to when Esme had told her of a family that she’d worked as a nanny for during the time that she’d been away from Bluebell House. What was it that she’d said? That they’d been far too flashy for Bluebell Hill, and in the end, they’d grown bored and moved away? She wouldn’t be surprised if these two made the same move, somewhere later down the line. Bluebell Hill had some very expensive homes, Bluebell House was a good example of that, but that was pretty much it. Unless they enjoyed admiring nature at its finest, she wasn’t quite sure what they were hoping to achieve by moving there. She bet they already had a nice home and fancy cars, what on earth did they need Bluebell House for? It wasn’t going to give them anything that they didn’t already have, of that she was 100% certain.

  ‘So, this is exciting, isn’t it?’ Deb sang, faffing about, studying them all. ‘Jessica, I know you’d like to get this process done as quickly possibly, as would I. Mr and Mrs Dawson, I’m sure you feel the same way? I know you’re both very busy people.’

  The couple nodded eagerly. Mrs Dawson’s nails were still tapping against the desk. Jessica felt like bounding across the room and ripping them off one by one.

  ‘Yes, we have other appointments to attend today,’ Mr Dawson explained adjusting himself in the seat. Jessica noticed that his shirt was stretched rather tightly across his stomach, but turned her eyes away. What a vile image. His wife was the complete opposite. Not an ounce of fat on her tall, slender frame. As Jessica studied them some more, she realised that they actually made a rather strange-looking couple. One short and fat, the other tall and thin. She wondered briefly what their boys looked like.

  ‘Excellent news,’ Deb continued, finally leaving the items on her desk alone and paying attention to the people who were waiting for her on the opposite side of the desk. ‘Right then. I have the documents right here, and all they need are your signatures where indicated. So, Mr and Mrs Dawson, if you’d be so kind as to sign your names on the dotted line first, that would be fantastic, thank you.’ She slid a thick wad of stapled-together sheets of paper across the shiny surface of the desk and smiled sweetly. ‘It shouldn’t take you too long, but please do ask me about anything that either of you are unsure of. That includes you, Jessica.’

  Jessica swallowed, her throat feeling uncomfortably dry and scratchy, as she watched Deb pass two pens over to them to sign with. Mr Dawson flicked over the first page and scanned the text quickly, his beady eyes roving over the words hungrily. It made her feel sick. Why was he reading it so fast? Surely he wasn’t actually making sense of the words when reading that fast, was he? Even she, an avid reader, wasn’t able to read that quickly. Definitely some sort of business man, she reckoned, and from the sight of his chin wobbling, he was of a lover of food, too.

  ‘Jessica, how are you feeling?’ Deb asked in sweet voice, feigning interest. Jessica knew that she was just making conversation while the Dawsons huddled together over the papers beside her. ‘This must be a very exciting time for you right now? Bluebell House will finally be out of your hands and firmly under the care of Mr and Mrs Dawson. I’m guessing it’s a wonderfully freeing feeling. You’ll be able to breathe easy and will no longer have to worry about it.’

  Jessica removed her eyes from the papers in front of the Dawsons and eyed Deb, finding it incredibly difficult to keep herself from glaring nastily across the desk. The unimportant conversation wasn’t doing anything to calm her down or make her feel better about what was happening. In fact, her heart was beginning to race, her palms were growing increasingly sweaty as she gripped the leather arms of the seat tightly and she had a sudden, intense urge to bolt from the room and never look back. ‘Yes. It is really exciting,’ she said quickly with no feeling to it. She glanced back towards the papers again, watching as the couple signed the first page and turned over to the next one. They were moving at the speed of lightning. That’s what it looked like from Jessica’s point of view anyway.

  ‘Are you off on holiday anywhere nice this year?’ Deb carried on casually, as if nothing monumental was taking place.

  ‘Erm…’ Jessica stuttered, flicking her eyes between Deb and the papers continuously. ‘I— I haven’t booked anywhere just yet. Maybe. I don’t know.’ If you’d just stop talking, that’d be great, thanks.

  ‘I’m off to the Caribbean in June,’ she continued, cheerfully. ‘Sun, sea and sand. It’s going to be so dreamy.’

  I don’t care. Jessica stared at Deb’s face, dead-pan, amazed that she’d managed to keep her true feelings from becoming evident on her face for so long. She glanced back at the papers. The Dawsons were on page three already. How had they got so far in such a short amount of time? She began to twist the material of her t-shirt around her finger. She needed something to keep her hands busy and that seemed to be the only option. She couldn’t keep still. She was fidgeting relentlessly. Her stomach flipped as the Dawsons turned to page four. She knew it. They definitely hadn’t been reading it. Not a chance.

  ‘Although, I’m more of a city girl, I think. Maybe next year, I’ll jet off to New York. Do some shopping, visit Central Park, all of that sort of stuff. What do you think?’

  Jessica frowned as she tried to make sense of Deb’s annoying voice. New York? Why was this woman chattering about New York at a time like this? ‘Sounds lovely,’ she snapped, taking Deb by surprise. She didn’t care. Not at this point. Besides, it was her own fault. She was talking absolute nonsense and Jessica couldn’t concentrate with her voice echoing around the room. It was beginning to sound like a foghorn rather than the nice, soft tone that she’d used when greeting them in reception. That seemed like such a long time ago now, when in reality, it had only been about twenty minutes, not even that. Not for the first time in her life, Jessica wished she had the ability to turn back time. Oh, how different things would be.

  ‘Well, it’s just an idea,’ Deb said, forcing a smile Jessica’s way. She probably wants to slap me really, Jessica thought to herself, and she couldn’t blame the woman. Deb opened her mouth once again but thankfully it wasn’t her that the estate agent was addressing. ‘How are we doing, folks?’ She turned her attention to Mr and Mrs Dawson. ‘Everything all right? Need any help with anything? Any words or terms that you don’t understand? Let me know. You look like you’re coping it with perfectly well, though. That’s a fabulous sign. You’re racing through it!’

  ‘Yes, it’s fine. No problems at the moment.’ Mr Dawson was beginning to flick the pages over faster now. Barely glancing as he signed, then his wife signed, and then the page was flicked over, revealing the next one.

  ‘Excellent. Anybody for a cup of tea? Coffee? Water? I think I have a packet of digestives around here somewhere.’

  What she needed, Jessica thought to herself, was fresh air, or a furnace to throw those stupid papers into. ‘Could you perhaps open a window?’ she squeaked, eyes still on the papers.

  ‘Yes, it’s awfully hot in here, isn’t here?’ Deb tittered. ‘No idea how I’ll cope in the Caribbean. I’m a winter baby, so of course I’m useless in the heat. Although I suppose when you’re lying on a beach with the sea just a few steps away, you don’t really notice it, do you?’

  Shut up. Jessica rubbed at her face. God, she was warm. Far too warm, in fact. Beads of swea
t were beginning to form on her forehead. She swiped them away with back of her hand and fanned her cheeks.

  ‘Oh, we’re nearly there,’ Mrs Dawson sang happily, clapping her hands excitedly. The gold bangles clinked together on her wrist as she patted her husband’s back.

  Jessica was growing hotter and hotter by the second. She tugged at the collar of her t-shirt and flapped at her face. Why wasn’t she cooling down? Any warmer and she’d melt into a puddle right there on the seat. Mr Dawson flicked over another page. The next few minutes seemed to pass in a sweaty, flapping daze. Jessica could feel her hair growing greasy from the repetitive movement of running her hands through it. It was sticking to her face, getting in her eyes, and she felt seconds away from screaming with frustration.

  ‘Done!’ declared Mr Dawson, pushing the papers towards her. Jessica watched them slide across the desk, as if in slow motion, and took the pen from his outstretched hand with trembling fingers. This was it. It was time to sign on the dotted line. It was difficult to grip the pen with how sweaty her hands had become. It was pretty gross, if she was going to be honest.

  ‘If you could just go through and sign where Mr and Mrs Dawson have signed, that would be perfect, Jessica.’ Deb smiled and leant forward across the desk. ‘Almost there,’ she whispered, as if this were the happiest day of Jessica’s life.

  Jessica gulped as she looked down at the papers, suddenly daunting and full of meaning. Once she signed them, there’d be no going back. But signing these papers was what she wanted… right? What she had always wanted? Hadn’t she wanted to be rid of Bluebell House since hearing that it was in her care? She should have been leaping at the papers, scribbling her name across the line and never looking back as she left the office.

  In reality, she didn’t want her signature anywhere near them.

  As all eyes in the room turned to her, Jessica imagined Bluebell House, all of those years that she’d spent running through the rooms, with Esme baking in the kitchen, tumbling around the grassy garden. The wide open spaces had seemed never-ending when she’d been little. Yes, it had been a struggle as she’d grown older but, with a hammering heart, she realised that she’d enjoyed being there with Rueben and Esme during her most recent visit. They’d made it easier on her. As her eyes began to pool with tears, she listened to her heart for the first time in a long time and realised that it was telling her that she missed it. She missed Esme and Rueben. Missed sitting on the big, American wraparound porch. Missed looking out across the fields to the distance early in the morning as the birds sang in the nearby oak trees. She missed eating breakfast in Esme’s pretty garden. Missed Rueben’s face. Was she doing the right thing? Throwing it all away? Handing it over to these people who were just going to ruin its beauty? Throw slabs across the grass and build a swimming pool?

  ‘Jessica? Is everything all right?’ Deb asked with concern, leaning across the desk to peer at her face closely.

  Jessica looked up slowly, straight into Deb’s eyes. It was now or never. She’d already taken it this far when she’d known that it would turn out this way before she’d even stepped into the estate agent’s building. It was only now that she was beginning to realise it, to truly comprehend how strongly she felt about the whole situation. ‘I don’t know,’ she replied. Honesty was the best policy, wasn’t it?

  ‘I don’t mean to be rude, but we really need to hurry this along,’ Mr Dawson cut in, pulling back the sleeve of his blazer to glance at a very expensive looking watch. Wrinkles appeared on his forehead as he frowned severely. ‘We do have somewhere else to be soon, and I’d like to make it on time, so if we could continue and Jessica could sign the papers? It’s the reason we’re here after all.’

  Jessica glared at him momentarily, then looked down at the papers in front of her. What were they really? Just a sheet of papers stapled together? They didn’t actually mean a thing until her signature had been added to them.

  Bluebell House. Did it stay or did it go? Muddling through her thoughts, Jessica stumbled across the one that had been making its presence known more than once recently. She’d been shoving it back repeatedly, ignoring it, refusing to acknowledge what it meant, but now, as she thought about it more seriously than ever before, it finally began to make sense, and she could understand it as clear as day. She couldn’t believe that it had taken her so long to realise it. She’d known it all along, deep down. She’d just refused to believe what her heart had been trying to tell her.

  ‘I can’t do this,’ she whispered, more to herself than to anyone else. It was true. She couldn’t. She couldn’t bring herself to sign the papers. It was such a simple act and would take little more than two seconds, but she couldn’t.

  ‘What is she talking about?’ Mr Dawson asked angrily, looking between Deb and Jessica, aghast.

  ‘What did she say?’ Mrs Dawson squeaked, leaning forward to look at Jessica. ‘What did you say?’

  ‘Jessica, shall we step outside and chat for a moment?’ Deb asked, clearly confused, but still with a bright, fake smile plastered on her face to keep everything civil and calm, although by the looks of things, it was a little too late for that.

  ‘I don’t need to step outside and chat,’ Jessica hissed. ‘This was all a big mistake. I don’t need any time to think about it. I shouldn’t have come. I shouldn’t have put Bluebell House on the market. It’s not for sale. Not anymore.’

  ‘Excuse me?’ Mrs Dawson barked, standing up from her seat. She may have been tall but she was incredibly thin, Jessica was sure that she could snap her like a twig if things escalated to a physical brawl.

  ‘What do you mean?’ Mr Dawson repeated, panicking now. ‘Deb, what on earth is she talking about? Talk some sense into her, for crying out loud!’

  Deb blinked rapidly, trying to understand how things had taken such a sudden turn in the complete opposite direction of the one that she wanted to go. ‘If you could just calm down, Mrs Dawson, I’m sure Jessica is just having a momentary wobble. After we’ve spoken out—’

  ‘Calm down?’ raged Mr Dawson, standing up quickly, sending his chair backwards from the force of the movement. My wife and I have other places we need to be. If the papers could just be signed, then we can get on our way. We do not have time for childish dramas.’

  ‘I’m not signing the stupid papers,’ Jessica spat. ‘Childish or not, I don’t care.’ She felt brave now. Braver that she’d ever felt before. Surer than she’d ever felt before, too. ‘You’re not having Bluebell House. It’s mine. It always has been mine, and it always will be mine. To be perfectly honest, you can take those ridiculous scraps of paper and shove them where the sun doesn’t shine.’ Jessica, breathing rapidly now, picked up the papers and tore them to shreds, launching the pieces at the Dawsons. She was wild, she probably looked like a lunatic, but she had to get the message across, and the message was that the Dawsons were definitely not getting anywhere near Bluebell House.

  The room fell silent and the air stilled as three faces stared, open-mouthed, at Jessica. The torn up pieces of paper fluttered into Mrs Dawson’s lap and she stared down at them, open-mouthed. ‘I can’t bloody believe this!’ Mr Dawson roared, looking at the scraps in his wife’s lap. ‘Deb, do something!’ he yelled.

  Jessica faced Deb. She did feel sorry for the woman. A little bit. ‘There’s no point in trying to talk me out of this. I’m sorry Deb, but this was a mistake. I need Bluebell House as much as it needs me.’ She swallowed. ‘I can’t let it go. I thought I could, but I can’t. It’s a part of me, just like I’m a part of it. I’m afraid that it’s always going to be that way, too. I don’t believe that I have a choice in the matter to tell you the truth.’

  Deb covered her face with her hands and sank back in her chair. Jessica bent down to retrieve her bag from off the floor. ‘My apologies,’ she muttered to Mr and Mrs Dawson.

  ‘You can’t just walk out!’ Mrs Dawson screeched. ‘Honey, do something!’

  Jessica escaped the office as quickly as she
could and closed the door on the arguing couple inside. Poor Deb. Still, she had somewhere she needed to go, and she had a suitcase to pack, too. She couldn’t wait a moment longer. Bluebell House was calling to her. She could feel it in her very bones.

  Chapter Twenty

  She arrived in Bluebell Hill the next afternoon. It had been an easy decision to make and, unlike the first time she’d made this journey, she willed the train to go faster so she could arrive sooner.

  Deb had tried calling her repeatedly throughout the previous day after the disaster of the meeting with the Dawsons, but Jessica had blanked each and every one. She was aware of the voicemail notification but hadn’t yet listened to any of the messages that the estate agent may have left. She didn’t want to hear what Deb had to say. The meeting had made her realise a number of things, but the main thing she’d realised, the most important thing in her mind, had been that she couldn’t let Bluebell House go. Not to the Dawsons. Not to anyone. Someone could come along and offer her all the money in the world and now, with her mind made up, she wouldn’t even give them a second glance. Before, she’d been desperate to get it out of her hands, but now, she was holding onto it tighter than ever before.

  Finally, she stepped off the train in Bluebell Hill, feeling at peace as soon as her feet touched the ground. She hurried through the station, eager to see Esme, desperate to see Rueben. She wanted to tell him that she was sorry, for everything. For disappearing without saying goodbye, for telling him to forget about her. The truth was, she didn’t want him to forget about her. Ever. She wanted him to keep her firmly in his mind. She wanted to kiss him again. She wanted him to wrap her up in his strong, capable arms, to share an embrace with the sea of bluebells behind them.

  The familiar viewpoint at the top of the hill came into sight and Jessica hurried towards it, her suitcase bouncing along behind her, struggling to keep up. Once she was beside the old, wooden bench, she stepped forward and looked out at Bluebell Hill. The place she’d grown up in and, despite trying to deny it for so long, the place that had stayed with her ever since she’d left at eighteen years old and run off to London.