by Lucy Diamond
Polly smiled from ear to ear. Despite her ambiguity about her own job prospects, there was no doubt at all that this was fabulous news for her sister. She could just imagine Clare’s squeal of joy when she heard the news. ‘Well done, Clare,’ she said into the quiet kitchen. ‘Good for you.’ She tried to call her, but the phone went straight to voicemail. Clare had warned her that the caravan site had dreadful reception, so Polly sent a text instead, hoping her sister would get the news sooner rather than later.
She mooched around the house for the rest of the afternoon. She watered everything and pulled out a few weeds in the vegetable plot (at least she hoped they were weeds). She fed Marjorie and Babs and locked them in for the evening. She poked a fork around a plate of couscous and peppered mackerel salad, before giving up and throwing it into the compost. She was too confused even to eat. Oh, Clare! She was desperate to speak to her now. Being apart had only made her realize just how close they’d become in recent weeks; Clare was now Polly’s go-to person, her confidante, her advice-giver, the person who’d always listen to her.
What was she going to do about this job? She couldn’t possibly decide something like this on her own!
Right, Polly, pros and cons, she said firmly. Let’s get down to the nitty-gritty.
If she said yes and went back to London, she’d be mentally challenged again, she’d spend her day making interesting, important decisions, motivating and managing a team of staff, advising clients on million-pound deals. She’d be getting paid lots of money for it too, and could swing back into a more luxurious lifestyle: her own home again, new clothes and shoes when she wanted them. What was more, she wouldn’t have to snap on a pair of Marigolds and scrub pub toilets for the rest of her life, hopefully. Those elements all sounded pretty bloody great.
It was the accompanying lifestyle she wasn’t so keen on, though. The return to the concrete jungle, living in an office where a summer’s breeze was replaced by the drone of the air-con unit. It was the macho bullshit, the old boys’ network, the bitching and back-stabbing, the shallowness of the social gatherings, and an empty flat waiting for her at the end of the day, however luxurious it might be. It would also mean she’d probably never see Jay again.
She perched on the swing in the back garden and pushed herself gently off the ground, pointing her toes to send her higher. But she’d waited so long for a job like this. Surely she couldn’t turn it down?
Leaning back, she let her head fall behind her so that the world was upside down. The sky whirled dizzily above her and the ground rushed to meet her face. What was she going to do?
‘Oh! It’s you on the swing, Polly’ came a voice. ‘I heard it creaking and thought the children were back.’ It was Agatha, waving over the fence, her mismatched gardening gloves on as usual. ‘Everything all right, dear?’
Polly sat up again, head rushing as the world swung back to its usual position. ‘I’m fine,’ she said. ‘Just trying to decide on something.’
Agatha pursed her lips. ‘If it’s money, sex or gin, just say yes,’ she advised breezily. ‘Everything else, just say no. Best of luck!’
Polly spluttered with laughter. Life lessons from Agatha – what next? ‘Wait!’ she called, as Agatha wandered away, secateurs in hand, humming to herself. ‘Agatha, what if it’s love?’
Agatha stopped still and turned, beaming, to face Polly once more. ‘Love? Oh, well, love wins hands down in any competition,’ she said, blue eyes twinkling amidst the deep wrinkles. ‘You say yes, of course. Yes to love!’
Polly smiled. ‘Thanks,’ she replied. ‘Thanks a lot. That’s very enlightening.’ She scuffed her feet along the ground to slow the swing and jumped off with a little wave.
‘I’m going to have to talk to him, aren’t I?’ she muttered to herself, walking back towards the house.
‘Oh yes,’ replied Agatha, overhearing. ‘You’ve got to talk to him, dear, absolutely. Then you can get to the sex. And the gin!’
Polly saluted her and went inside. Damn. She really was going to have to talk to him now, if only to get Agatha off her back.
She left the house before she could change her mind, and set off down the lane.
Chapter Twenty-Six
‘Hi.’
‘Hi.’
Well, he was at home, at least, even if she wasn’t quite sure whether he was going to let her into the damn house. Even his wretched dog seemed to be staring balefully at her, as if weighing up whether or not to start savaging her ankles. After a long, heart-bumping moment he pulled the door wide. ‘Come in.’
She could hear the drone of sporting commentary from the television as she followed him into the living-room area; she’d interrupted him watching the cricket. Hopefully he wouldn’t hold that against her, she thought, as he turned it off with the remote control. Then there was silence. A clock ticked somewhere, measuring the seconds it took her to speak.
Tick, tick, tick. She didn’t know where to begin.
‘Have a seat,’ he said politely, waving a hand at the sofa. He perched on the leather cube and looked at her expectantly. Oh God, it was as if they were strangers, as if nothing had ever happened between them.
Tick, tick, tick.
‘I’m sorry,’ she blurted out at last. ‘I’m really sorry. I was completely over the top the other night; I just panicked and handled it all wrong. I’m an idiot.’
‘No, you’re not,’ he said, but there was no real conviction in his voice.
‘I am,’ she argued. ‘I’ve had my head stuffed up my own arse for years; it’s taken me this long to realize.’
He smiled at that. A small, quick smile that flickered on his mouth and then was gone again.
She crossed her legs, feeling miles away from him on the sofa. ‘I got offered a new job today,’ she said.
His face changed for a second, before he regained his composure. ‘Back in London?’
‘Yes.’
‘Congratulations,’ he said dispassionately. ‘Just what you wanted.’
She shook her head. ‘Turns out it isn’t what I wanted, after all.’
Tick, tick, tick. He was staring at her as if he didn’t recognize her. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean, I’m going to turn it down.’ Boom. She’d said it. She hadn’t even been sure of the decision until that very second. But as soon as the words were out of her mouth she felt a massive relief. Yes. It was the right thing to do.
‘You what? Turn it down? Why?’
‘Because …’ A million different reasons rose to the tip of her tongue. Because she loved popping round to see her parents for a cup of tea and a ginger muffin. Because she hadn’t laughed so much for years as when she’d messed about with the kids. Because she loved hearing the birds and seeing flowers bloom, and spending so much time with her sister. And because … ‘Because I want to try again with you,’ she said simply.
Well, he hadn’t been expecting that, judging by the way his jaw dropped. ‘That doesn’t mean you have to turn down a new job,’ he said slowly.
Tick, tick, tick. They looked at one another, and it was as if time had been suspended.
Then, ‘I want to try again with you too,’ he said, his dark eyes on her. ‘I really do. I’m so glad you came round tonight.’
Hope burst within her; it felt like a reward for bravery. ‘You do? You are?’
He grinned. ‘I do. I am.’
Polly laughed. And then she was standing up and rushing towards him, and he was doing the same. They met in the middle and wrapped their arms around each other. She could feel his heart beating through his shirt, could hear the sound of his breath close to her ear.
‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered again and squeezed him as hard as she could.
‘Forgiven,’ he murmured, stroking her hair and squeezing back for a long, wonderful moment. Then he pulled away from the embrace. ‘I’m opening a bottle of wine,’ he said, ‘to celebrate you having finally removed your head from that fabulous arse of yours.’
‘And then,’ he said, taking her hand and leading her towards the kitchen, ‘I want you to tell me all about this new job and why the hell you’re going to turn it down. And then …’ He looked back over his shoulder and winked. Pure cheese, but she loved it. ‘Well, after that, we can find something else to do.’
She blushed. ‘That sounds like a plan to me.’
Somehow or other, though, the agenda didn’t quite go that way. No sooner were they in the kitchen than they started kissing. Tentatively at first, with the gentleness of uncertainty, but then becoming faster and more fervent, their fingers fumbling with buttons and zips, clothes being taken off and blindly discarded around their feet.
Just as Polly was thinking they were about to do it there and then on the kitchen table – and why the hell not, it was as good a place as any – he led her into the bedroom and they fell onto his bed in a tangle of limbs and hot, juddering breaths. It was more frantic than last time, more urgent and passionate, but still felt like love-making.
Love-making. Such a beautiful, romantic phrase, Polly thought dazedly, as the words came into her head. She’d run a mile last time he’d dared mention ‘love’, but she’d done a lot of thinking since then. The idea of love and intimacy didn’t terrify her quite so much any more. In fact, it made her feel … happy.
Afterwards the world seemed to tilt back around again and fall perfectly into focus, as it had done on the swing. Polly knew for sure that she’d made the right decision.
‘As I was saying, before I was so rudely interrupted,’ he began, and they both burst into giggles.
She lay curled against his chest, feeling absurdly content. ‘You can interrupt me rudely any time,’ she growled, tracing a finger across his skin. ‘By the way, do you think you can teach that dog of yours to bring the wine in here, please? I can’t be bothered to move from this bed ever again.’
‘I’ll get the wine,’ he said, gently extricating himself from her, ‘and then you can tell me about this job. I still don’t understand why you’re going to turn it down, unless it involves a placement in Outer Mongolia or somewhere.’
She watched his gorgeous bare bottom thoughtfully as he left the room. Right now, London might as well be Outer Mongolia, for all the inclination she had to live there again.
He came back and poured the wine, and then she explained exactly why she was going to say no to the job.
He frowned. ‘Nope. Still don’t get it,’ he said, passing her a glass of smoky-smelling Merlot. ‘I’m not some caveman bloke who thinks a relationship has to mean that you’re here cooking dinner and fetching my pipe and slippers every evening. Why don’t you take the job and we can see each other at weekends?’
‘It wouldn’t work like that,’ she said, wrinkling her nose. ‘That kind of job, it takes over your whole life. I should know. I’ve only just recovered from the last one. We’d hardly see each other.’
‘It seems so extreme, though,’ he countered. ‘What about commuting? Or asking if they’d consider taking you on part-time, or as a job-share?’
She hooted with laughter. ‘No. It is extreme, that’s part of the deal. You have to sell your soul to these people. I just don’t want to do that again.’
They were propped up cosily against the pillows and there was silence for a few moments.
‘So what are you going to do?’ he said eventually. ‘Other than cook my dinner and fetch my pipe and slippers every evening. JOKE!’ he added, as she punched him on the arm.
‘What am I going to do? Well, that’s the big question,’ she said. ‘I really don’t know. I need to find somewhere to live before Clare boots me out, though. And …’
‘Why don’t you move in here? With me.’
She nearly choked on her wine.
‘I mean it,’ he said. ‘Why not? There’s plenty of room for two.’
She gulped. This was all moving a bit fast. ‘I … Thanks,’ she said. ‘One thing at a time though, eh. I was thinking of asking Stu and Erica if I can rent a room above the pub for the time being.’
He was beaming at her. ‘You’re serious, aren’t you? About staying in Elderchurch, I mean.’
She nodded. ‘Deadly serious.’ And, with a huge wave of happiness, she realized that yes, this was what she wanted. A life of her own, here in the village. To be here for Alex’s birthday in the autumn, to watch the trees turn golden brown, to take the children sledging down Whistledown if it snowed, to be there for every Sunday dinner at her mum’s. To be at peace with her memories of Michael, instead of trying to escape from them. And for long, happy days and nights with Jay Holmes forever after. Yes, that really was what she wanted.
He put his arms around her and showered kisses on her head, neck, shoulder. ‘Brilliant,’ he said. ‘This is the best news I’ve had all year.’
She lifted her head to kiss him right back. Turning down a heavyweight job in London … Sophie and the like would think she was crazy. Well, maybe she was – maybe she’d live to regret this decision if she still hadn’t found a good way to earn some money by Christmas. But right now, at this precise moment, she had never felt saner or more contented.
The future was rosy.
Epilogue
‘Is that the lot?’ Graham was waiting by the van, his hand on the back door.
Polly nodded. ‘That’s the lot,’ she said.
It was a Saturday, six weeks later, and summer had definitely given way to autumn. The trees on Whistledown were seeing the first tinges of rust-gold edging their leaves, the flowers in the Remembrance Garden were brown and drooping, and all over the country women were digging out pairs of tights they hadn’t worn for months and deciding that yes, they definitely needed a new pair of boots and, what the hell, a new coat too. As for Polly, she was on the move again.
Her dad slammed the van doors shut. ‘I guess we’d better go,’ he said.
She hadn’t been there long, but truth be told, Polly was a tiny bit sad to be leaving the bedroom she’d been renting above the King’s Arms. It had become a regular love-nest, with her and Jay shacked up there together so many nights. It was where she’d properly fallen in love with him again, curled up with him in the double bed, talking and laughing long into the night. She gazed up at the upstairs window where she’d stayed, and smiled. This was a special place; one she’d never forget.
‘Let’s do it,’ she said, climbing into the van.
Was it really only six months since she’d left London? It seemed so much longer. Already Elderchurch felt like the home she’d always wanted, the safest place in the world – somewhere she could be herself, and be loved for it. Thank goodness she’d turned down the job with the Walkley Group when she had, even though doing so had made her feel sick with nerves. She’d gritted her teeth and asked Stuart and Erica if she could work some extra hours at the pub instead. Oh, and about the room that was going begging upstairs: would it be possible to rent it?
Clare and her parents clearly thought she’d suffered some kind of breakdown – turning down a perfectly good job and moving her belongings into a poky, beer-smelling room above a pub on the main road. What the hell was she playing at? And while Jay had understood her rationale for not taking the job offer, he didn’t get why she wouldn’t move in with him, when his house was a million times nicer. But Polly had stuck to her guns and refused to let anyone talk her down. She didn’t want to clip the wings of their fledgling relationship before it had even lifted off the ground. She wanted to take things slower this time; to get it right. And she had to take this leap of faith that an even better job would come along – a job that suited the life she wanted to lead now. No more compromises.
Just one week later an even better job had come along. ‘I’m afraid it’s not exactly what you were looking for,’ the recruitment consultant had said apologetically when she’d phoned with details of the position. ‘I know you wan
ted to be back in London, whereas this is largely home-based, with perhaps two days’ travel a week, but I thought I’d flag it up in case you were interested.’
Polly, who’d been collecting dirty glasses in the pub when the call came, promptly sat down at one of the tables, her heart pounding. ‘Tell me more,’ she said.
This time the job sounded completely different from what she’d done before. Although based within the financial industry, it would be as an outsider, working for a financial watchdog that monitored and regulated the banking world. She’d be poacher-turned-gamekeeper effectively, checking up on all her old colleagues and contacts, advising on best practice and having a good snoop through their paperwork to make sure everything was above board. She’d almost laughed in glee as the consultant filled her in. Let’s face it, she knew where a lot of bodies were buried …
Once again she’d stormed the interview process and had been offered the job. She’d been there three weeks now and was thoroughly enjoying herself. The work was fascinating and called on all her years of expertise and investigative skills, without swallowing up her entire life. She loved having her London ‘fix’ every week, while still spending most of the time home in Elderchurch. Best of all was the fact that she’d be auditing Waterman’s in the next few months. She could hardly wait to see their faces when she walked in there to investigate them. Revenge was going to taste so damn sweet …
One thing was for sure, though. She was never going to let herself get in a financial mess again. Her investments were finally on the up, and she planned to tend them carefully from now on, as well as building up a buffer of savings for the future. It was all very well taking risks with one’s heart, but when it came to money matters, Polly had vowed to become a new, improved model of prudence. She’d certainly learned from her past mistakes on that score.
Graham started the van’s engine and set off down the high street. Polly waved as she spotted Debbie hurrying towards the post office – probably to send her hundredth care-parcel to Lydia, who’d just started at Bristol University. According to Clare, Debbie had got herself a place at college too. Spurred on by the success of the labels she’d designed for Berry Botanicals, she’d started a graphic-design course at Amberley Tech and was having a whale of a time.
