“Not hard enough,” Jake said grimly. He crouched down next to Justin. “If you ever come near her again, that bash on the head will seem like nothing. Do you understand that, you piece of shit?”
Summer’s ex was far from his groomed celebrity self now. Dribbling snot and blood onto the flagstones and moaning pitifully, he looked pathetic.
“She hit me,” he whimpered, one hand clutching his head. “The bitch hit me.”
“Don’t you dare speak about Summer like that, you scum.” Jake put his face so close to Justin’s that their eyeballs were almost touching. “You broke into her house and assaulted her.”
Justin made a spluttering sound. It might have been a protest or a laugh; it was hard to tell because his voice was clotted with mucus and blood from his nose, which had evidently hit the stone floor.
“Call an ambulance,” he gurgled. “Christ. That bitch has really hurt me.”
“Sod the ambulance. I’m calling the police,” Jake told Justin, whipping his mobile out of his pocket. “They can decide what to do next.”
“Call them then. I’ll sue for assault.”
Summer’s mouth parched. “It was self-defence!”
“Prove it,” Justin wheezed. A hint of the old vindictiveness had crept back into his tone, but for once she actually felt relieved to hear it. If Justin was still capable of being a bastard then she couldn’t have done too much harm.
Jake gave him a scornful look. He was itching to thump Justin himself, Summer realised, and it was an act of real restraint that he’d managed to resist.
“She doesn’t have to prove anything.” He stood up, squeezed Summer’s shoulder reassuringly and strode to the open door. “Morgan!”
Morgan’s curly head appeared at the door. His eyes widened when he saw Justin lying on the kitchen floor.
“That’s him, Jake! That’s the bad man who was hurting Summer. I saw him through the window.”
“A kid?” Justin pushed himself onto one elbow. His eyes were crossing. “Big deal.”
“A kid with a camera and an obsessive passion for taking photos.” Jake turned to Summer, who was staring at him in confusion. “I sent Morgan down to see if you needed anything,” he explained. “He saw what was happening and called me straight away. While I ran down he took lots of pictures for me.”
Morgan held up his camera with its big telephoto lens.
“Thirty-five actually. I might be a paparazzi man when I grow up,” he remarked thoughtfully. “Look, Jake: I took lots of them.”
Jake took the camera and scrolled through the images. His eyebrows shot into his thick blond fringe and a muscle began to tick in his strong, clenched jaw. Summer knew only too well what he was looking at. She had the bruises and the cuts to match the photographs.
“I ought to finish you right now for this,” Jake grated, and Justin shrank away.
“He’s not worth it.” Summer laid her hand on Jake’s arm. “Leave him. He won’t be coming anywhere near me again. Not once we go to the press.” She turned to Justin. He looked so ridiculous sprawled on the floor it now seemed impossible that she’d been terrified of him. Justin was just a bully, and like all bullies once you stood up to him he was actually pretty pathetic.
“My face is cut,” he whined. “If I lose modelling work I’ll sue your arse off.”
“Sue away,” said Jake to Justin. “There’s enough evidence here to prove every word you say is a lie. I shouldn’t think there’s a company on the planet that’d want you to endorse their products after this. Men who beat women aren’t very popular.”
“Fact,” said Morgan, nodding.
Jake handed his mobile to Summer. His face was serious.
“Sums, call the police. That was a serious assault and I know it wasn’t the first, no matter what you’ve said before. You owe it to yourself and to whatever poor girl falls for him next to make sure he never has the chance to do it again. Don’t be afraid, sweetheart; he can’t harm you anymore. He’ll never lay a finger on you again, I promise.”
She glanced down at her ex-fiancé. Justin’s eyes had closed and he looked utterly defeated. He wasn’t going to hurt her now and neither was he about to go anywhere – not unless it was in the back of a police van, anyway. Jake’s words about needing to make a stand for the next girl Justin met struck a chord with Summer. It was too late for her and her baby but nobody else was going to suffer because of him. That was the one thing she could do in honour of that little soul who’d never really had a chance.
Her eyes met Jake’s and the love she saw in them made her stomach turn somersaults. He touched her cheek tenderly, his fingertips skimming the shadows of her old bruises before gently brushing over the new swellings.
Jake was there for her in every way, she realised. He always had been and her heart was telling her that he always would be. All she had to do was trust it.
But was she strong enough to do the right thing? Brave enough to stand up to Justin once and for all, and publicly too? For a second she quailed, but then Jake smiled at her and instantly Summer knew the answer. She might be aching, trembling and physically weak, but with Jake Tremaine there beside her Summer felt stronger than she ever had before. She loved him and, in loving him, she knew that at long last she had come home. And she never wanted to leave.
If she really wanted to be free, stop running and make her peace with everything, then it was time to take the final step. With a shaking finger, Summer began to dial...
Chapter 34
Mo was distraught. She couldn’t remember ever feeling quite so sick. Every time she recalled her earlier conversation with Jake her blood ran cold. She thought that the expression of disappointment and disgust on his face would probably stay with her forever.
Mo had torn out of the house and raced through the village back to the stables. She’d known that there was no point staying at Seaspray and trying to plead with her brother; the withering look he’d given her before he’d gone back upstairs, presumably to comfort Summer, had said it all. He despised her and it didn’t matter how sorry Mo was or that she would have given anything at all to turn back time and change things. She knew she could tell Jake over and over again and until there was no breath left in her lungs that she loved him, that he meant the world to her and that she wished with all her heart that she’d never thrown the letter away, but it wouldn’t make the slightest bit of difference. Mo knew Jake inside out and he had a stronger sense of right and wrong than anyone else she could think of.
She had also never seen him so angry…
For the rest of the afternoon Mo felt as though she was trapped in a nightmare, with her day seeming hell-bent on going from bad to worse. If she was searching for a sign that the universe wanted to punish her for the stupid, childish mistakes she’d made all those years ago, then she didn’t have to look much further than the big horse lorry that, when she arrived back at the stables, was parked up in the yard. Mo instantly recognised the smart blue and gold crest of The Bandmaster’s previous owner, Alex Ennery, on the side of the vehicle – and her heart sank. Before she’d even made it through the yard gate a smart female groom in cream breeches and spotless Dubarry boots was leading The Bandmaster out of his stall and up the ramp of the lorry.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
Charging across the yard, Mo tried to snatch the lead rope but she was too late; Bandy was already loaded and the ramp had been slammed firmly shut behind his muscular rump.
“Hey! What do you think you’re doing? That’s my horse!” Mo cried. She marched around to the jockey door, ready to have it out with the groom. “You can’t just take him. There’s been a mistake.”
The groom, a tall willowy blonde girl Mo recognised from the local eventing circuit, sighed. “Look, Mo, this is bloody embarrassing enough. Please don’t make it worse.”
But Mo didn’t care about being embarrassing. She just wanted Bandy out of the lorry and back in his stable.
“That’s my horse! U
nload him right now!” she demanded. Her heart was hammering in her chest and she felt dangerously close to tears. “You can’t just turn up and take him.”
“He’s not your horse though, is he? Technically this is Ella St Milton’s horse – and she’s asked me to collect him.”
“But I’m training him! Ella left him here because she wants me to ride him.” Mo glanced around frantically in the hope that there might be somebody about to back her up, but she was out of luck and the groom just shrugged.
“Well, it looks as though she’s changed her mind then, doesn’t it? She’s asked me to deliver him to Alex Ennery.”
“There’s got to be a mistake.” Mo was beside herself. She couldn’t lose The Bandmaster, the horse that was going to take her to the Olympics. She dug her phone out of her pocket and furiously scrolled through her contacts list. “Please, give me a minute to just call her. I’m sure she’ll be able to explain.”
It took several rings before Ella picked up.
“What?” she snapped.
“Ella, somebody’s here to fetch The Bandmaster.” Mo’s voice sounded panicked even to her own ears. “Can you please tell them it’s a mistake?”
“I most certainly won’t,” said Ella. “There’s no mistake. I have asked for the horse to be moved. Alex Ennery will do a much better job than you.”
Mo felt as though she’d been punched. “But I’ve not even had him a month yet! That’s not long enough to be able to tell. Ella, come on, be fair. I need more time. Let me take him over to Bicton next week. I know he’ll do really well.”
“Come on, Morwenna, don’t be deliberately obtuse. This isn’t about the horse. This is about our little business transaction. You haven’t delivered so I’m taking back my part of the deal.”
“But I did everything you asked! I spoke to Jake. I sang your praises. I even got in touch with Justin Anderson for you and told his people exactly where Summer was.” Mo felt sick. She’d sold her soul to do all this, broken her brother’s heart and interfered in Summer’s volatile relationship, and for what? Ella was still taking the horse away. Mo supposed it was no more than she deserved.
“Well it wasn’t enough,” Ella retorted. Her irritation crackled through the mobile network. “You haven’t kept your end of the bargain, I’m afraid. Where’s your brother now? He’s not with me, is he?”
“I can’t help that!” Mo cried out in frustration. “I can’t make Jake want to be with you, Ella, can I? If he still loves Summer and isn’t interested in you then there’s nothing I can do about it! It’s not my fault he prefers her!”
She heard a sharp intake of breath from Ella’s end of the line and could have kicked herself for being so blunt. This wasn’t the way to talk Ella round. On the other hand, Mo couldn’t lie either. It simply wasn’t in her nature.
“And if I decide that I want my horse to be trained at another yard then there’s nothing you can do about that either,” Ella shot back, lightning quick. “It’s not my fault I prefer another trainer.”
“I tried, Ella!” Mo felt as though the very cobbles of her yard were shifting beneath her. “I did my best.”
“Then it wasn’t good enough, was it?” replied Ella. “Don’t bother me again, Morwenna.”
The call was ended abruptly. There would be no continuing the discussion; that much was clear. Mo sagged against a stable door and listened to the flapping of all her chickens coming home to roost.
“Sorry,” said the girl groom, who could see from Mo’s face exactly what the answer had been. As one horsey woman to another she was gruffly sympathetic. “That’s a shitty thing to happen. You’re bloody good, Mo, and he’d have done really well with you.”
Mo nodded. “Look after him for me? And he likes to be scratched just above his withers.”
The girl hopped up into the cab and started the engine. “He’ll be looked after, I promise.”
The lorry backed slowly out of the yard. Mo shut the gates and watched miserably as it drove away down the lane, taking the horse and all her Olympic hopes away. Her brother hated her, she’d betrayed her old friend in the worst way possible and now her career was probably over too. Add to this the loss of the woods and Mo felt like hurling herself off the cliff top.
As she worked her way through her chores, all afternoon Mo wept quietly. She supposed she’d had these things coming to her; she certainly wasn’t very proud of her behaviour. She filled hay nets, scrubbed buckets and mucked out stables as though on autopilot but couldn’t face riding any of her horses. Mo simply didn’t have the heart, and she knew that she couldn’t do them justice in this frame of mind. She didn’t think she’d ever felt so miserable in her life.
By the time the evening sun’s fingers were creeping across the paddock and the light was fading from the sky, Mo had come to a decision: she was going to apologise to Summer and tell her everything. There would be no more guilty secrets and festering grudges. Summer needed to hear about what Mo had done from her own lips, and she also needed to be aware that Mo had contacted Justin Anderson.
Getting hold of Justin hadn’t been as hard as Mo had first imagined; as soon as she’d mentioned Summer, his agency had been more than happy to take a message. At the time, Mo had pushed away any doubts.
Now, though, as Mo brought the last of the liveries in for the night and secured the stable doors, she couldn’t stop thinking about the way her erstwhile friend had kept such a low profile in the village and she felt awful. It was so obvious now. Summer was hiding from Justin, and revealing her whereabouts was an unforgivable thing to have done – but Mo had deliberately chosen to ignore this just because she was desperate to have The Bandmaster.
What sort of person had she become?
The answer was one that she didn’t like very much.
Having completed her chores and decided on a course of action, Mo headed back into the village. She didn’t even pause to change her jeans or to have something to eat. All she wanted to do was get back to her family and to Summer so that she could put things right. Nothing else mattered.
Although it was twilight and the night was falling fast, Mo decided to take the path through Fernside. The shadows and the pitch-blackness didn’t bother her in the least because she knew every twist and turn of the track by heart; nor did the calling of the rooks or the flutter of bats trouble her. Mo was more unnerved by the darkness in her own heart than that of the woodland. Instead, the solitude of her surroundings soothed her. Here nobody would see her tearstained face or stop her for a chat about the morning’s heroics. The last thing she deserved was anyone’s congratulations. There was nothing about her that was admirable or courageous, Mo thought unhappily. If anything she was a total hypocrite.
Eventually the trees thinned out and the path turned a sharp left, revealing the lights of the village twinkling below. Beyond them, the glittering waves silvered by the full moon looked almost magical. Mo paused for a minute to gather her racing thoughts and to make the most of this scenery. After all, she realised sadly, there probably wouldn’t be many more times she could stand here and enjoy the gull’s-eye view of Polwenna Bay. Ashley was sure to have the place flattened and covered in tarmac any day now. Mo sighed. He was infuriating and yet a complete mystery. On the one hand he was everything she loathed – arrogant, materialistic and domineering – but on the other there was something about him that was dangerously appealing, no matter how hard she tried to deny it. The way he’d kissed her last night still made the blood gallop to her cheeks, and today he’d handled the boat with surprising skill and a mastery that was extremely attractive. Mo would have found her feelings towards him disturbing if she’d only had the heart to contemplate them.
Oh Lord. Ashley. She was supposed to have returned his coat and life jacket this evening, wasn’t she? Both of these items were still in the porch at Seaspray, abandoned there what felt a lifetime ago when, so full of exhilaration and certainties, she’d charged home after the morning’s adventures. That was when Sum
mer was still the bad guy and Mo had been the brave and justified defender of her brother’s broken heart.
How was it possible that everything could change so much in just a few hours? How could the firm ground become quicksand in little more than the beat of a heart?
She was just heading around the final bend in the path when the flashing of blue lights from the village caught her eye. An ambulance? Or maybe a police car? It was hard to tell from here. All she knew was that the vehicle was parked by the boatyard, which was as far as a vehicle could go if it needed to reach either Seaspray or Cobble Cottage, as the ancient streets were made for horses and far too narrow for cars. What on earth had happened now? Was it Eddie Penhalligan? Or even Summer? Oh God, she prayed, please don’t let anything else have happened!
She picked up her pace, tripping over tree roots and stumbling down the steps in her haste to reach the top of the steep lane behind the church which would lead her into the village. She was in such a hurry that in the darkness she failed to see another figure rushing towards her from the opposite direction. Seconds later Mo collided with a tall and decidedly strong male form, whose arms instantly closed around her.
Mo couldn’t help it; she cried out in terror.
“That’s not the effect I usually have on women, Red,” Ashley Carstairs remarked. “They have been known to scream, of course, but not with fear.”
The shadows made his sculpted features seem even more pronounced and his teeth gleamed white in the moonlight. Mo shivered.
“What are you doing here?” She injected a note of hostility into her voice, although oddly she didn’t think she actually felt that way about him anymore. Still, it made her feel more like her usual self. If she was losing her antipathy to Cashley then Mo really did fear that her world was turning upside down.
“Looking for you, actually. I’ve just been over at Seaspray. You were supposed to come over to Mariners, remember?” He released her and stepped back, frowning. “No offence, Miss Tremaine, but you might have made a little more effort with your outfit, and the eau du cheval is a little overpowering too.”
[Polwenna Bay 01.0] Runaway Summer Page 39
