New Hope for the Little Cornish Farmhouse

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New Hope for the Little Cornish Farmhouse Page 11

by Nancy Barone


  15

  My Neighbour’s Secret

  Being back home in Penworth Ford was like running a victory lap in the market square. Everywhere I went, people kept congratulating me about the movie, from the village butcher to the vicar.

  ‘Is it true you and Luke O’Hara are going to write a script together?’

  ‘How long are you and Luke going to be together?’

  And, the most hilarious of all, from the local movie buffs, ‘Are you going to star in the movie like Nia Vardalos? You’d make a great Stella!’

  If they only knew. Stella was me, made from my boiling blood, broken heart and shattered bones. She was the war-torn heroine I never let out except for at night, under the eaves of my tiny bedroom where I kept all the books I’d ever owned, from Charlotte’s Web to Kafka (never got past page thirty) and Katie Fforde (read ’em all). That was my lair, where I hid away from the world.

  My first stop was to go and see how Alf was. I was surprised to find him reading his usual paper at his counter.

  ‘Ah, look what the wind’s brought in!’ he called.

  I put my gifts down and rounded the counter to hug him. ‘Alf, are you okay?’

  ‘Why wouldn’t I be?’ he snapped as he folded his broadsheet into a tiny lump. ‘Never been better, despite these three crones molly-coddling me all the time.’

  Beverly clapped him on the back lightly. ‘You love it!’

  He shrugged.

  ‘I’ve missed you lot,’ I cried, hugging them all. ‘Here, I’ve brought something for you. Anchor Beer for you, Alf. See’s chocolate for you, Carol; saltwater taffy for Deirdre; and some Napa Valley wine for Bev.’

  ‘Spot on!’ cackled Alf with satisfaction. ‘Thank you, luv.’

  He seemed okay to me, but I did detect a sliver of worry on the trio’s jolly faces.

  ‘Oh my word, I’ve never seen so much luxury,’ Deirdre said as they went through all the bounty. ‘And you thought of us!’

  ‘Of course!’ I exclaimed. ‘You are my family.’

  ‘What did you get Emma and Jack?’ Bev asked, and Deirdre elbowed her. ‘That’s not polite to ask. Thank you, pet, for all this. We’ll make sure Alf doesn’t go through it in one night!’

  I leaned forward and looked my ladies in the eye. ‘You call me if there’s anything… I mean anything, okay?’

  They slid a glance towards Alf, who was checking the label of his beer, and nodded. ‘Don’t you worry, pet, he’s in and out of it as the days go by. We’ve got the number for Brian’s surgery just in case, but we will keep you posted should, uhm… you know.’

  ‘Okay. Thank you. I mean anything, remember. I’m here for you.’

  Deirdre swiped at a tear as usual, and gently nudged me towards the shelves. ‘Go do your shop, pet. You’ve got a busy day, I assume.’

  ‘That I have,’ I agreed. ‘Apparently I have to resuscitate my old website. That’ll be interesting, seeing as I have no techie skills whatsoever. But how about we meet for cakes and tea at Old Nellie’s sometime this week?’

  ‘Ooh.’ Carol clapped her hands. ‘A chance to get away from the ogre, yes, please!’

  But Alf didn’t hear her, or was simply ignoring her, so I took a basket and grabbed my milk, eggs, bread, fruit and veg.

  The rest of the day was spent in total, lazy bliss just basking in the warmth of a bright, shiny future.

  At five o’clock I started dinner, looking out the window for any sign of Jack. He was the only one to use the door into the kitchen, which was usually where he would find whatever it was that needed fixing.

  After dinner, while we polished off our desserts and sipped our coffees, Jack snapped his fingers. ‘Oh, Nina, before I forget—’ he said, pulling his mobile phone out. Was he going to show me a picture of his hot date? I wondered if he’d run her past Emma, at least. He did nothing without our approval, this one.

  ‘About your website…’

  ‘What about it?’ I said as I topped up our coffees.

  ‘The Ice Cream Ladies mentioned you might need a hand, so I looked it up. NinaConte.com is a shambles. So I’ve done a dummy page for you, just to see if you like it.’

  I put our mugs back onto the table, my eyes scanning the screen. It was gorgeous and delicious, like cupcakes of the brightest colours. He’d used the perfect font, the right tone; it was rich and yet linear.

  I scrolled down and checked my menu as I sat back in satisfaction. ‘This is amazing!’

  ‘Thank you. So is the writer.’

  ‘How am I ever going to get even with your kindnesses if you keep topping them up?’

  He grinned, showing a slightly crooked incisor, which only added to his charm. ‘Silly sausage.’

  ‘I’m serious, Jack. You are always there for me, and what do I do for you? What can I do for you apart from a stupid dinner?’

  ‘There is one thing you could do for me, Nina,’ he said. ‘You could smile more. Enjoy your life.’

  I didn’t even need to think about that one now. ‘I will,’ I promised him. ‘You’re the best, Jack.’

  ‘I know.’

  16

  A New Life

  After two weeks, I still hadn’t yet received my contract in the mail. ‘Chloe, are you and Jessica still voice-messaging each other?’

  ‘Yeah, why?’

  Is her dad still alive? And does the postal service still work in that country? I wanted to ask.

  ‘Nothing, just wondering.’

  Ben came to put his arms around me. ‘It’ll come soon, Mum, don’t worry.’

  ‘Thank you, my darling.’

  ‘By the way, Mum, I promised Jack I’d help him with a project of his. Can I go over there after tea from now on?’ he asked.

  ‘Every day? What about your homework, darling?’ As if I needed to ask.

  ‘I always finish my homework at school. Is it all right if I go?’

  His need to be with a male role model, one that I couldn’t ultimately provide, stabbed me in the heart. But I was also grateful to Jack. I smiled. ‘Of course you can go, love.’

  ‘Thanks, Mum! Jack’s right. You are a star!’

  I laughed. ‘Have you two nothing better to talk about than your mother?’

  ‘Sure we have. We talk about motors, and we build things together.’

  ‘Build things? Like what?’

  ‘Last month he showed me how to build a water clock! There are sixty cups that take sixty seconds to fill, and when the first one empties into the second, the next minute strikes. It’s amazing!’

  ‘Oh, that sounds unbelievable, Ben! Can I come round and have a look?’

  ‘Not until we’re done!’ he warned me.

  I laughed and folded him in my arms and he pressed his face into my neck.

  ‘I love you, Mum!’ he chimed as Chloe rolled her eyes and went back to her mobile phone. Ben was like that, honest in his affections, and unheeding of what people thought.

  ‘Oh, my darling boy, I love you more!’

  ‘Get over yourselves, you two,’ Chloe muttered.

  ‘Sweetheart, I’ve been meaning to ask you,’ I said, turning to Chloe. ‘You haven’t sent Chanel any pictures of Luke’s daughter and home, have you?’

  She shrugged. ‘I haven’t talked to Chanel in weeks.’

  ‘Weeks? Why? She’s our next door neighbour and your best friend. How could you even manage that?’

  ‘Chloe’s always voice-messaging with Jessica these days,’ Ben informed me.

  ‘But what about Chanel?’ I insisted.

  Chloe shrugged again. ‘Chanel is jealous that I have a celebrity friend and she doesn’t.’

  My mouth fell open. ‘Chloe, I’m happy that you and Jessica have bonded – that’s brilliant. But please don’t forget who your people are.’

  ‘Yada, yada, yada,’ she muttered as she disappeared up the stairs and into her room. Teenagers. You just couldn’t win.

  That night Emma came over, looking haggard.

  ‘Are
you all right?’ I asked as I poured her a glass of Merlot.

  ‘No, I have to tell you something, but I’m afraid it will ruin our friendship.’

  I stopped in mid-pour. ‘Oh, God, is it Chloe? Has she been rude to Chanel? I’m so sorry, she’s been a brat for weeks now and does nothing but voice-text Jessica, but Chanel does not deserve to be treated like that. I’ve had a word with Chloe who is going to apologise and…’

  ‘Don’t worry about it,’ she said.

  That was Emma. Always downplaying things, when I knew she was as upset as I was by Chloe’s behaviour.

  ‘Em?’

  Emma had buried her head in her forearms on the table.

  ‘There’s something else, isn’t there? What’s wrong?’

  She looked up at me. ‘You know I love you, right?’

  ‘Of course. And I love you and Jack, too. I love our little Three’s Company thing. And I apologise if in the next few weeks I’ll be busy, because Luke O’Hara will be arriving soon – I hope – to work on the script. But once Luke and Jessica have gone I can go back to my normal life and we can resume our dinners together with Jack.’

  ‘You’re avoiding him, too?’

  I sighed. ‘I’m not avoiding anyone, Emma. There is so much work behind this script that I didn’t expect. I am overwhelmed, is all, but I promise you things will get back to normal.’

  ‘It’s not just that, Nina…’ she said.

  I sat down. ‘What is it then, Em?’

  She hesitated, biting her lip, and then smiled. ‘Don’t listen to me, Nina, I’m just cranky and exhausted,’ she whispered. ‘And I’ve only got one kid and one bloody job. How do you do it? Because I can’t take it anymore…’

  It was like looking in the mirror during one of my cold nights up in the eaves by myself, listening to the rain pinging into the bucket and wondering how much longer I could get away with it before the roof buckled under the pressure of the next storm. It was a waiting game, and the object was to see it out.

  ‘Of course you can, Em,’ I soothed. ‘You’re just having a mother’s moment, is all. We all do. Even married people are exhausted. I know I was.’

  ‘But at least back then you had someone to share your problems with,’ she insisted, taking a deep breath. ‘Don’t you ever wake up in the middle of the night, hankering for a warm, strong body to anchor yourself to, if not for some good, hard sex?’

  Good question. It was the answer that was bad. Because no, I didn’t. I was completely dead in that department. But as far as loneliness was concerned?

  ‘Of course, we all do, Em. But just have faith. You will meet someone fantastic, because you are fantastic. You just need to put yourself out there a bit more. Let’s go to the Northwood parents’ parties. There’s some new dads this term,’ I said, ruffling her hair.

  She lifted her head. ‘I’m not going with you.’ She pouted. ‘They’ll all be gaga over you. If I didn’t love you, Nina, I swear I’d hate your guts.’

  ‘What a daft idea, Em! Besides, you know I don’t feel comfortable with all those pretentious people who only speak to me when they needed something.’ (Shit, I’d almost forgotten to make them those arancini I promised for the festival.)

  ‘They’re actually not that bad once you look past all that,’ she defended.

  ‘Then why don’t you let someone there set you up?’

  ‘Me? No. What about you? Are you interested in anyone at the moment?’

  I laughed. ‘Me? I wouldn’t recognise romance if it clobbered me over the head with a cricket bat.’ And that was the truth.

  *

  Days turned into weeks, and still no word from Luke. By day twenty-three, I was just about ready to scream, but Chloe beat me to it.

  She came screeching through the front door, not bothering to remove her wellies as a brown trail followed her into the living room where I was sitting at my idle computer waiting for a miracle to happen.

  ‘Mum! MUM!’ she screamed. If it hadn’t been for the ecstatic look on her face and the complete change of attitude towards me, I’d have cringed at the streaks on the carpet. But what was that she was waving under my nose? A large envelope. My hand shot to my heart. It was either that, or bad news from somewhere. But it had to be my contract. Bad news usually came in small envelopes.

  ‘It’s arrived! Your contract!’

  ‘What? Let me see!’

  I tore at the envelope and besides a thirty-seven-page contract, there was a hand-written note that I read in one breath:

  Dear Nina,

  Sorry it took so long, but here it is. With this contract you agree to put up with me. I hope you won’t regret it!

  I will be arriving in Penworth Ford at the end of the month and will be emailing you details of my hotel.

  Can’t wait to see you!

  Luke x

  I looked up at Chloe whose face was bright red with excitement. Meeting Luke and Jessica had changed her attitude big time, and I was grateful for it. Hopefully the encounter would change a lot of other things, too.

  17

  The Predator

  The next day after I returned from dropping the kids off at school for their final week before their summer break, Phil appeared on my doorstep, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. His hair had been combed back (that was a first in years) and he was wearing jeans instead of his usual track bottoms. His Sex Pistols shirt, however, was stained and crumpled, like someone who had slept in his clothes. I could tell by the look in his eyes that he was on a mission.

  ‘Nina! Welcome back, babe!’

  Ah. Of course.

  ‘Thank you,’ I said politely. After all, I did once love him, plus, I was feeling much stronger, less vulnerable and more cheerful since the trip to Hollywood. I found that, as I grew happier, the need to hate him diminished.

  ‘Aren’t you gonna let me in?’ he asked.

  I debated, then figured that now I could take him any day.

  He followed me inside where he sat himself down at the kitchen table.

  ‘You makin’ a cuppa? I’ll have a coffee,’ he said, and with a sigh, I flicked the kettle on. Not because I wanted him to stay, but because I knew he wasn’t leaving until he came out and asked.

  He was silent for a moment, listening to the kettle getting into gear, as if mustering the courage to put his plan into action. ‘You got any Jaffa Cakes?’ he asked, licking his lips and craning his neck as I opened the snacks cupboard.

  I sighed inwardly as I filled his cup, listening to him prattling on about his new friends and new ventures. And then he grinned so widely I could see all the way to the back of his teeth.

  ‘So, congratulations on your Hollywood deal, babe!’

  I plonked his cup down along with the entire box of Jaffa cakes.

  ‘Don’t call me babe.’

  ‘You used to like it.’

  ‘“Used to” being the operative words, Phil. And that was a long time ago.’

  He shrugged, ripping off the top of the box with the same gusto he used to pull at my nighties. The thought now repulsed me.

  ‘Not that long ago.’

  ‘Why are you here, Phil? The kids are out.’

  ‘It’s you I wanted to see.’

  Here we go. ‘For?’

  He took a sip of his coffee, making an impressed face. ‘Mmmhhh, is that a new brand?’

  ‘No, it’s still Tesco’s.’

  ‘’Course now that you’ve struck gold, you can afford all the luxuries. So, what are you gonna do with all that dosh?’

  ‘Oh, I dunno, Phil. Maybe pay for Ben’s operation. Fix the roof you promised to do a thousand years ago.’

  ‘Oh, I can do that for you, babe—Nina.’

  As if I’d give him access to anything of importance to me, the kids being a forced exception.

  ‘And I’m cheap, too. I’ll give you a good rate.’

  I swallowed my coffee, nearly burning the roof of my mouth. Jack had done everything for free, without even knowing us, and
this stupid bozo here wanted to be paid for doing the labour necessary to shelter his own kids?

  ‘You want money to fix the very roof you abandoned three years ago?’

  He shrugged. ‘You owe me, Nina.’

  I laughed. ‘I owe you?’

  ‘It’s thanks to me you wrote those stories.’

  Shit. Had he read them? Did he see himself in them? I turned around, my back to him. Maybe I could upend the kettle over his head. That would certainly distract him.

  ‘I suggested the names to you, didn’t I?’ he said.

  ‘What names? What are you talking about?’ Was he off his rocker completely?

  He blushed. ‘The names of your characters. I don’t remember what we called them.’

  ‘We? Have you even read my books, Phil?’

  His face got even redder. ‘No, I don’t have time to read…’

  Thank you, God.

  ‘…but you wrote those books while you were married to me, so…’

  ‘I owe you nothing, Phil. Those stories have nothing to do with you.’

  ‘Still, I’m your husband.’

  ‘Only because you are dragging the divorce on endlessly. Why don’t you just sign off on it and leave me be, Phil?’

  ‘Because you’re still my wife here,’ he said, patting his chest. He should have been patting his back pocket where his wallet usually was. Only I don’t think track bottoms have back pockets, do they?

  ‘Come on, Nina! I need the money!’

  ‘Then go and find yourself a job like I did. I’m not giving you a single penny.’

  ‘You sound like Scrooge,’ he whined. ‘What’s a few K when you’ve got all that dosh rolling in?’

  I put down my mug. ‘A few K?’

  ‘Yeah. All I need is a few thousand to set me up in my new business, Nina.’

  Oh, God. I eyed him warily. ‘What new business?’

  ‘Polly – a friend of mine – she’s an IT genius, yeah? So I asked her to create a thingy—’

  ‘You mean a programme.’

  ‘Yeah. That comes up with all these winning lottery combinations.’

 

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