Her and his own child, Summer reminded herself sharply. She mustn’t allow herself to be drawn by him. After all, Jake had deliberately and coldly abandoned her just when she’d needed him the most. She must never forget that, or be fooled by him. A man who could ignore the heartfelt letter she’d written – the letter she’d spent hours trying to compose and which had been blotted with her tears and scored with her terror and her heartbreak – was undoubtedly as hard in his own way as Justin Anderson was in his.
“Summer, please talk to me,” Jake implored her. He was still crouching beside the bath and he reached for her cold hands, clasping them in his. “Those bruises look nasty. You need to see a doctor.”
Summer’s ribs did hurt, although she hoped she hadn’t actually cracked them in the fall. Her first thought had been for the baby rather than for herself, but so far all seemed well on that score. Soon enough she would find a doctor (maybe Kursa’s son, seeing as everyone was raving about him) and get herself checked over, but not until she was sure that she was safe from Justin. The thought of him finding out made her blood freeze.
Jake’s strong fingers squeezed hers. “Trust me, Summer, please. I want to help you.”
“I’m fine,” she repeated, snatching her fingers back. “Or at least I will be once I get out of this bath and am left in peace. Now, do you mind?”
Jake jumped to his feet, holding his hands up in a gesture of surrender.
“OK, Summer, have it your way. Everything’s fine except for your sense of spatial awareness and maybe your sanity for not telling the truth about the prick.”
“I fell,” said Summer flatly. “It was an accident.”
Jake shook his head in frustrated defeat. “Fine. Whatever you say, Summer, but just bear in mind that I’m not stupid and neither are many other people. With bruises like that it won’t take long before somebody puts two and two together as to why you’ve left him. Cutting your hair doesn’t make the slightest bit of difference either.” He paused, those bright eyes holding hers. “If anything, you’re even more beautiful now.”
Summer stared at him. Her heart broke into a gallop and she knew she had to rein it in. Fast.
“Jake, I tripped and—”
“No, Summer, don’t say another word about tripping and kitchen islands. We both know that’s a load of rubbish.”
She swallowed. Part of her wanted nothing more than to tell Jake the truth, to feel his arms close around her, press her face into his strong chest and let him promise her that it would all be fine.
“You can trust me,” Jake said softly. “I want to help you. Summer, I still care about you.”
For a moment she nearly wavered, almost told him the truth before her sensible self woke up and screamed at her that this was the worst possible thing to do. She couldn’t trust Jake Tremaine. He’d already let her down in one of the worst ways a man could let a woman down. Even though she could tell herself that he’d been young or that things were different now, how could she ever trust him again? He might say he still cared about her, but where had he been when she’d needed him? Furious with herself for hesitating, she pushed the moment of weakness aside.
“I’ve not left him,” she said loudly, crossing her fingers beneath the water. “You’re letting your imagination run away with you, Jake. I’m engaged to Justin Anderson. We’re Summer and Justin, for heaven’s sake! We’ve even had our own reality show.”
“But do you love Justin Anderson?” Jake’s eyes snagged on hers.
“Of course I do,” Summer said, a beat too late to convince anyone. “He’s my fiancé.”
Jake said nothing. He didn’t need to. The delay in her reply had said it all.
“I’m only here to have a bit of a break from the press interest,” Summer added. “You have no idea what it’s like living with the press. Honestly, it drives me mad. Hiding in plain sight here for a bit seemed like a good idea, that’s all.” She forced a lightness into her voice that was totally at odds with the millstone heaviness in her heart. This was the performance of a lifetime, Oscar-winning stuff if there ever was. “I love Justin, Jake. I love him and I’m going to marry him. Hiya magazine is going to cover the wedding. It’s all arranged.”
Jake’s face was expressionless but a muscle ticked in his cheek. “And there’s nothing anyone could say or do to change your mind?”
Summer shook her head.
“Not even if I told you that I still have feelings for you? That maybe those feelings never went away?”
There was a knot in Summer’s throat made of tangled hopes and dreams and lost opportunities.
“Jake, I—”
“No, don’t say anything, Summer. Please, let me speak. I don’t know what’s been going on between you and Justin but I sure as hell don’t buy into the fairytale that your management likes to spin. I know you, Summer, and I know when you’re hiding something from me. I can’t undo the past no matter what I do and how much I wish I could, but there’s one thing I can do and that’s be honest with you now.”
The past hung between them. What could have been if she’d never left, Summer wondered? What might life be like now if Jake had been there when she’d needed him?
“I’ve thought about you every day since you left. I promise not a moment’s gone by when I haven’t wished that things had worked out differently for us.” He smiled ruefully as he raked a hand through his thick blond mane. A lock fell over his eye just the way it always had, and a sudden memory of reaching up from beneath him to push it away from his face made her pulse quicken. “Summer, I know I can’t offer you what Justin does. Not in terms of finances anyway. Christ knows, I only have a boatyard that’s just about hanging on by the skin of its teeth and a beat-up truck to my name, but I can help you, if you’ll let me. Summer, don’t you understand? I still—”
“Jake, don’t!” cried Summer, although she half longed for and half dreaded hearing what she thought he was going to say next. Did he still love her? Was that it? And did she still love him? That was a question she was too scared to ask herself because it was too painful to contemplate. Too much had happened. There were far too many past hurts and resentments that would have to be explored, and she really didn’t think she could face those. Her heart was breaking for the people they’d once been and all that could have been; she knew it was too late for them.
“I know you don’t want to hear that I still care about you,” Jake said quietly, “but I do. I don’t think I ever stopped.”
Summer knew that she shouldn’t want to hear this, shouldn’t even let herself listen, but Jake’s words made her feel warm again despite the cold bathwater.
He was watching her, waiting for her to reply. Summer bit her lip because there was only one reply that she could give him. He needed to know the truth about her situation, and that truth was the one thing that would tell Jake that it really was too late for them.
Too late. Were there any sadder words in the English language?
Just as she was screwing up the courage to tell him that she was pregnant, the bathroom door flew open and in charged a small boy brandishing a camera. “There you are, Jake. I’ve been looking everywhere! Look at the pictures I took with Jules! Dad looks really good in them, doesn’t he? He’s smiling! Can I use your printer in the office? Can we go now? I need colour and Grand Granny says there’s none left in her printer.”
“Morgan! You need to knock!” Jake admonished, catching the child by the hood of his sweater and attempting to tether him while an expensive-looking digital camera was waved under Jake’s nose.
“I knew you were in here. I heard you to talking to the lady.”
Jake raised his eyes at Summer over the child’s head.
“The lady is in the bath,” Jake pointed out.
“I know that,” said the boy patiently. “It is the bathroom, after all. I heard her talking to you so I knew it was all right to come in if you were in here. Now can we go and print my pictures?”
“My nephew,
Morgan,” Jake explained. “He has an impeccable sense of timing.”
“I like to be on time for things,” Morgan replied gravely. “Although time is actually an illusion, you know.”
“It feels pretty real when a guy is trying to pour out his heart and soul to someone,” said Jake ruefully.
Personally Summer thought that Morgan’s sense of timing was spot on. He’d just saved her from blurting out her big secret and she felt very relieved. The fewer people who knew about her baby the better: that way, Justin was even less likely to find out. Making sure that the towel was hiding her body from view, Summer smiled at the boy.
“Hello, Morgan. I’m a friend of your Uncle Jake.”
“Is that why you don’t have any clothes on?” Morgan asked. “Like when Uncle Nick had a friend come to stay and she had no clothes on and then Grand Gran was cross?”
“Nothing like that at all. Summer got wet in the rain and was warming up,” Jake told him, ruffling the boy’s hair and grinning at Summer.
He’ll make a great father someday, Summer thought with a stab of what felt dangerously like grief; the curly-headed laughing children in Jake’s future would be nothing to do with her. Some other woman would feel his baby turn head over heels in her womb and see the wonder on Jake’s face when he held his son or daughter for the first time. It should have been me, she wanted to yell at him, why didn’t you care enough to help? All his talk just now was exactly that: talk. When she’d needed him the most Jake had let her down. She’d be doing herself a favour if she kept that in mind.
Instinctively her hand rested against her belly. This little one had Justin Anderson for a father, which for all Justin’s wealth and fame was hardly the best start in life for any child. Silently, Summer promised her baby that she would be twice as good a parent to make up for that.
And she wouldn’t let Justin near him or her.
“You’re Summer?” Morgan’s wide eyes swivelled to her, practically out on stalks. “Oh! You’re the one Aunty Mo hates. Fact.”
It was indeed a fact, thought Summer, recalling how angry Mo had been with her when she’d bumped into her in the village. And it seemed there was nothing she could ever do to change that either.
“Afraid so,” she nodded.
“And you need to get out of the bathroom. Fact,” Jake told him sternly.
“Aunty Mo won’t be very happy to know you’re here,” Morgan informed Summer. He didn’t look at all bothered by this thought, but Summer’s stomach lurched. She really didn’t think she could face Mo’s fury again. Breaking free of his uncle’s grasp, Morgan headed for the landing. “Come on, Jake. Let’s print my pictures.”
The moment for confidences had well and truly passed. Jake smiled at Summer and the tenderness in his eyes made her want to cry.
“It seems that I’ve been summoned. I’ll leave you to get dressed in peace. We can catch up a bit later on. Maybe over supper?”
They’d do no such thing, Summer decided as she towelled herself dry. Apart from not wanting to face the wrath of Mo part two, there was also no way she was having any more conversations with Jake; it was far too dangerous. All it had taken was one of his blue-eyed dimpled smiles and she’d been about to sing like a canary.
It was ridiculous.
Cross with herself, Summer pulled on the dry clothes that Jake had managed to liberate from the airing cupboard. He’d certainly found a strange mix: leggings (Mo’s), a fisherman’s smock (Nick’s), thick socks (heaven only knew whose) and a pair of boxer shorts. Maybe those were Jake’s? She’d technically got into his pants, Summer supposed, albeit not quite in the way she once had. Her bra was still soggy, so Summer decided to go without it. Losing weight and going down several cup sizes definitely had some advantages, no matter what Justin might think. Besides, she’d only be walking a few hundred yards down to her cottage.
Once dressed in this eccentric attire, Summer crept out of the bathroom and along the landing – but rather than turning right and going down the staircase there, she took a sharp left and then another left. She’d spent enough time here over the years to know the old place pretty well. She knew that in its heyday, Seaspray had required a team of servants to keep it running smoothly, hence the narrow back staircase which led from the servants’ quarters towards the boot room and pantry. In the thick socks she padded down it, passing the kitchen silently. The murmur of voices from within told her that the family was otherwise occupied. Within moments she was in the boot room, shoving her feet into a pair of ancient wellies before shooting through the door into the sodden garden.
It was still raining, but the heavy downpour of earlier had eased off to a drizzle now. Summer wound her way down the terraced grounds, showering herself in drops as she brushed past plants that were bowed across the path from the weight of the rain. The air filled with the scent of rosemary as her hand trained through Alice’s beloved herbs, which edged the way back towards the village. The mist was starting to lift a little and Polwenna was emerging below, peeking shyly through its white veil like a bride at the altar. Even the seagulls on their chimney-pot perches were looking slightly less miserable than before.
Was running away from Jake the right thing to do? Summer wasn’t sure. She longed to tell him the truth and to trust him again, but her fear of Justin and the bad memories of the past held her back. Her heart was telling her to turn around, find Jake and pour out everything, but her head was warning her to step carefully. Only time would tell whether she was making the best choice, she guessed, but unfortunately time was the one thing she didn’t have on her side.
Summer was dithering by the white gate at the foot of Seaspray’s path, fighting the urge to run back and find Jake, when a slim figure clad in a chic yellow spotty mac, and holding a matching umbrella, joined her.
“Summer?” the woman gasped, leaning closer and narrowing her slate-grey eyes. “My goodness, it is! Fancy seeing you here.”
Yellow Mac was none other than her old childhood nemesis, Ella St Milton. Summer’s heart plopped into her borrowed wellies. Even in the damp and wearing a plastic raincoat Ella was groomed and elegant, whereas in her peculiar collection of clothes Summer felt as though she’d raided the dressing-up box and ended up looking like a bag lady. All the years of fame and designer clothes vanished like the rapidly clearing mist. She felt about thirteen years old again.
“I can’t believe it!” Ella continued, her voice as bright as her raincoat and not giving Summer time to even greet her in return. “Summer Penhalligan! My God! I don’t think I’ve seen you properly for years – and I barely recognised you looking like that. Whatever brings you back here and up to Seaspray? Fashion tips from Morwenna, maybe, by the look of you?”
Meow. Summer had forgotten just how bitchy Ella could be with her pseudo friendliness and catty comments. More irritating than a G-string under jodhpurs was how Mo had once described her, which Summer thought was pretty much spot on. It seemed that the past decade or so hadn’t improved Ella St Milton one bit.
Gritting her teeth, Summer leaned forwards and the two women air-kissed beneath the shelter of the umbrella. Ella’s tinkling laugh, about as sincere as a politician’s promises, sent Summer straight back to school; she was furious with herself for still feeling this intimidated. They were adults now and their childhood animosity was long behind them, surely?
“Yes, I’m just down for a few days visiting family,” Summer explained smoothly, once the kisses were over. Her delighted smile was Bafta worthy.
One of Ella’s perfect eyebrows arched in surprise. “At Seaspray?”
“I just popped up to say hello to Alice,” Summer improvised.
“How nice.” Ella smiled at her. At least, Summer thought she was smiling. It was a bit like being grinned at by a shark.
“You can leave the gate,” Ella added when Summer moved to fasten the latch. “I’m on my way up to see Jake about this year’s charity ball. We’ve been working on it together – among other things, of cour
se!”
Ella giggled. Her meaning couldn’t be clearer. Jake and Ella were a couple. Summer guessed she shouldn’t really be surprised. It made sense. Of course it did; they were practically the Kate and William of Polwenna Bay.
As Ella chattered on, doing everything she could short of cocking a leg and peeing over Jake to make it perfectly clear that she was doing a lot more with him than just attending the ball together, Summer silently thanked God she’d not revealed her secret. What a hideous mistake that would have been. She felt sick just thinking what could have happened if Morgan hadn’t interrupted her. Ella wasn’t exactly discreet. The Sun’s news desk would have been running a scoop about Summer’s pregnancy within seconds.
“He has invited you, I hope?” Ella continued. She widened her eyes when Summer didn’t reply instantly. “Don’t say a word; I can see that he hasn’t. Naughty Jake. That wasn’t very polite of him, but never mind! I’m inviting you. It would be brilliant to have you there – and Justin too, of course. It would be wonderful publicity for us.” She whipped a mobile from her raincoat pocket. “What agency are you guys with? Shall I get my people to send an invite to your management? Free, of course. I wouldn’t dream of charging you.”
“No! No, don’t do that!” Summer said quickly. “I mean, please don’t put yourself out. I’m just having a few quiet days with my family, and I’m sure Justin already has an engagement then.”
Something flickered in the dark depths of Ella’s eyes. It looked weirdly like triumph. Her finger hovered over the touchpad.
“Really? But I haven’t even told you when it is.”
Summer could have kicked herself. This was Ella St Milton, who could smell blood from a hundred yards away. Summer plastered on her bland public face but was pretty certain it didn’t fool the other girl.
“He’s Justin Anderson, Ella. He’s always busy. Honestly, I practically have to book an appointment with him myself.”
[Polwenna Bay 01.0] Runaway Summer Page 22
