by Anna Jacobs
‘Doesn’t matter. Louis helped me with Susie and then slept in her room on an air mattress. They had a great time bouncing on it when they thought I didn’t know. How’s Emil?’
Abbie explained, and had to explain all over again as Louis took over the phone.
The doctor came out just then, looking a bit tight-lipped.
‘I’ve got to go.’ She switched off her phone and looked anxiously at the nurse who followed him.
The nurse waited till the doctor had turned into another room and grinned at her. ‘It’s all right. Your fiancé is fine. It’s just that he’s determined to leave today and the doctor wanted him to stay. Mr Kinnaird was rather emphatic about it.’
‘He’s had enough of hospitals.’
‘So he said, and in no uncertain terms. Anyway, if you can arrange to take him home and stay with him today and tonight, he should be all right.’
‘I’ll look after him very carefully indeed, I assure you.’
Abbie went into the room and found Emil sitting on the edge of the bed, smiling at her. He was still pale, but looked much more cheerful.
She smiled back. ‘So, you’ve refused to obey orders and want me to take you home?’
‘If you don’t mind.’
‘I don’t mind at all. But you’ll be careful, eh?’
‘Yes. Very careful indeed. I’m not stupid.’
The nurse came back with some paperwork and pills, plus several sheets of printed instructions and then at last they were free to leave.
‘I don’t have my car,’ she told him, ‘but we can take a taxi. There’s a stand for them at the main door, apparently.’
He took her hand. ‘Thank you, Abbie.’
His gaze was warm and something inside her responded to it. This time she didn’t try to stop herself and plonked a quick kiss on his cheek. She wouldn’t, couldn’t rush into anything, but oh, she did like this man. And so did Louis.
That was a good start, surely?
When they got back to the flats, she took Emil up in the lift to his flat, then ran down to Keziah’s flat to collect her son. But Louis must have heard them come into the building because he came rushing to greet her in the hall and flung his arms round her.
Keziah came to join them. ‘Better leave my nephew here with me after you’ve finished cuddling him, Abbie love.’
‘Oh? Why?’
‘Nell and Angus have invited everyone involved round to their place for afternoon tea, to explain what it was all about. About four o’clock. Is Emil well enough to go? What do you think?’
‘That’s up to him.’
‘Can I go and see him, just for a minute?’ Louis begged.
‘Of course. And thanks, Keziah. I’ll bring this young rascal back to you when we leave.’
She went into the flat to find Emil sitting on his new recliner chair with his feet up, listening to Louis and answering questions.
She explained about the afternoon tea and Emil said at once that he would certainly be well enough to go, but perhaps he’d better change his clothes first.
‘If you’re sure.’
Emil smiled at her. ‘I’m sure.’
Louis looked from one to the other and grinned. His expression was rather knowing for a boy his age. She hadn’t expected him to be aware of the attraction between her and Emil.
She left Emil in his flat and hurried down to hers to take a quick shower and change her clothes.
Louis waited for her in the living room. ‘Auntie Kez said not to bother you about it, but she thinks you and Mr Kinnaird might be getting very friendly. I’m not bothering you but I just want you to know that it’s all right by me.’
She blinked at him in surprise.
‘One of the boys at school has a mother who got married again. He says it’s made her happier and he gets on well with his stepfather, so he said I should look out for a man for you. Only you found one yourself. And I like Mr Kinnaird, as well as his mechanical toys.’
He left it at that, but her son’s concern for her warmed her heart. He was nearly eight now, growing up fast and starting to become more aware of other people’s needs. Keziah must have explained the situation to him. She owed her sister for that.
‘Let’s go up and see if Emil needs help with anything. He and I don’t have to leave quite yet, but I want to make sure he’s not overdoing things.’
Angus looked round the main drawing room at Dennings, filled now with everyone from the street who’d been invited except for Cutler. He felt happy that these people who had once been strangers had now become good friends.
There were others in Peppercorn Street who’d become friends too, but they hadn’t been involved in this recent series of events so he hadn’t invited them today. All of them seemed to be at a happy stage in their lives now, though, thank goodness.
He and Nell made sure all their guests had a drink of some sort, then he stood up. ‘If you’ll give me your attention for a few moments, I’ll explain more or less what that was all about. The police only gave me a broad outline, not the details, of course.’
He allowed them time to settle, then began. ‘It seems that Charlene Brody had become paranoid about being bypassed for promotion. She’s always been a strange one, but no one realised how bad she had become. She was counselled about her attitudes generally but nothing anyone said or did could change her view that she always knew best what was right, and she was utterly determined to get the next promotion.’
He paused, watching them shake their heads and exchange glances. He knew what they were thinking: a more unsuitable person to manage others would be hard to find.
‘The latest problem blew up because she knew the council’s management were going to restructure the area in which she worked and appoint a new person to head the revamped section. And when she wasn’t even called for interview, she hired a criminal to break in and prove that she knew better than anyone about security for our local heritage site.’
‘But surely her job was only incidentally about heritage?’ Iain said.
‘Yes. But she didn’t see it that way. She was obsessed by the thought of that secret room, heaven knows why. I’m afraid the poor woman has now been committed to a mental hospital and will receive appropriate treatment there. Let’s hope it works.’
‘What about the fellow she hired?’
‘He’s claiming she told him this was council business, and says she had the keys to prove it, so he was unaware that he was committing a crime.’
There were soft, cynical sounds in response to this from those gathered.
‘He’s out on bail at the moment. He may or may not get away with helping her. I hope he doesn’t.’
There were murmurs of agreement.
‘Anyway, Emil, you should now be able to take your time setting up your father’s pet project and the woman appointed as the head of that new section assures me that the council will do all it can to facilitate the preservation of such a valuable historical resource.’
‘That’s good. And the regional heritage people are being a huge help, too.’
They discussed it a little more, then Nell brought out some champagne. ‘I think it’s time to celebrate something, don’t you?’
They looked at her in puzzlement.
She waited till they all had a full glass and raised her own. ‘Here’s to Iain and Ginger’s engagement.’
There was a chorus of approval and glasses were raised and clinked with wholehearted pleasure at this news.
Angus nudged her. ‘The letter.’
‘I nearly forgot. Ginger, this came for you.’
Ginger took it, gulped and looked at Iain.
‘What is it, love?’
‘It’s from Donny. Oh, no. He must have wangled my address from my neighbour.’
He put an arm round her shoulders. ‘We’ll read it when we get outside, eh?’ He looked at Nell and Angus. ‘Thank you for your kind wishes. I’m quite sure Ginger is going to lead me a merry dance. But I’m looking
forward to it. If you don’t mind, I’ll take her home now. She’s exhausted.’
When they got outside, Ginger couldn’t wait a minute longer and tore open the letter.
Iain stood next to her, waiting patiently.
Tears formed in her eyes and ran down her cheeks but when she looked at him, she was smiling. ‘Donny says sorry for how he treated me. He says he’s doing well in rehab. And he’s met someone there.’ She handed him the letter. ‘And he says he’s given up smoking, too. Oh, I do hope he has!’
Iain read it quickly. ‘He hasn’t written much.’
She smiled. ‘Donny hates writing. He likes to do things or make things.’ She waited a moment then looked at him pleadingly, ‘It sounds promising, doesn’t it?’
‘It sounds very promising, my love.’
‘I’ll write back straight away and tell him our news.’
‘Um … better just concentrate on his news. Tell him about us another time you write.’
‘You think?’
‘I’m sure of it.’
‘But it’s a good start, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, my love. A very good start.’ He hesitated, then added, ‘And if he really is sincere about making a new start, I’ll give him a try with a job in the nursery garden.’
She flung herself into his arms, sobbing even more happily and he prayed he wouldn’t regret this offer.
Epilogue
Six weeks later
Ginger got dressed, her stomach full of butterflies. But when she looked at herself in the mirror, the butterflies began to subside. It was the nicest dress she’d ever owned, a soft floral material, with lots of lilac in it, with a plain lilac jacket. And Elise had been right when they went shopping: the small fascinator went perfectly with it. Such a lot of money she’d paid for such a small hat!
When she went outside, Iain was waiting for her next to a limo.
She gaped in surprise. ‘I thought we said no fuss.’
‘Just a little bit of fuss,’ he pleaded.
Elise and Stacy came out to join them in the limo so that they could act as witnesses. The new guy who’d taken Cutler’s place peeped out of Number 4 to wave and wish them well.
‘Isn’t Jack a big improvement on the former occupant?’ Elise said. ‘The people who’ve got Cutler as their artist in residence must be regretting it deeply by now.’
They went to the town hall where, in spite of Ginger wishing it to be just the four of them, several members of Iain’s family were also waiting for them.
She turned to frown at him.
‘My family would have killed me if I’d tried to stop them coming. And I’d better warn you, there’s another surprise waiting for you inside. If you don’t like it, I’ll eat that hat of yours. That’s a promise.’
She shot him a quick look, then they went into the section reserved for marriages. There Donny was standing, holding the hand of a rather scrawny woman who must have had a very hard life from the look of her face but who was smiling broadly at Ginger now.
She ran across to hug her son and be introduced to his new girlfriend, then they sat down to wait for their turn to enter the inner sanctum, where she and Iain could get married. Her nervousness had vanished now and she held his hand, quietly content to become his wife, even reconciled to having a group of people watch it happen.
When they came out after the brief ceremony, which she’d found surprisingly moving, a photographer was waiting to record the occasion.
‘We said no fancy photos!’ she exclaimed because she never liked photos of herself.
Iain grinned at her. ‘So shoot me!’
‘I want a photo of you, Mum,’ Donny said. ‘Iain’s right.’ He held out his hand to his stepfather. ‘Congratulations. She’s a treasure.’
Which brought a lump to Ginger’s throat.
On the way back, she and Iain sat in solitary state in the limo, holding hands. He asked the driver to stop at the park and brought out his own camera. ‘Will you take our photo?’
‘Happy to, sir.’
Then Iain took several of her, so she did the same for him.
‘Why more photos?’ she asked as they got back into the car.
‘These are our own photos in every way.’
As the driver started off again, she raised Iain’s hand to her lips and kissed it.
He leant forward to kiss her gently on the lips and murmur, ‘Well, Mrs Darling, how does it feel to be married?’
‘Wonderful, Mr Darling.’
When they got to Saffron Lane everything was quiet and in spite of their stop they seemed to be the first to get there. ‘I hope I’ve provided enough refreshments,’ Ginger worried. ‘There are going to be more people than I’d planned for.’
‘I hid some extra champagne so we’ll get them tiddly, at least.’
He offered her his arm and when they got to the house, he picked her up and carried her over the threshold.
‘Stop it, you fool, I—’ She broke off as she saw that the café at the rear was filled with people. The other artists, Nell and Angus, everyone she’d met here and others who seemed to be some more of Iain’s friends.
‘You didn’t think we’d let you get away with a skimped wedding, did you?’ Nell asked.
Everyone erupted into cheers and shouts of ‘Congratulations!’
Ginger clutched Iain’s hand tightly and whispered, ‘I’m no good at making speeches. If they want one, you can do it, because I’m quite sure you were in on this.’
‘Of course I was. I wanted to show off my lovely new wife.’
‘You’ll pay for that tonight.’
‘Goody, goody!’
She couldn’t hold back another smile. She doubted she’d ever be able to stay mad at Iain – even if she ever had a reason to be mad at him.
Then she saw the cake sitting on the table full of food at the back of the café. It was such a beautiful creation, more happy tears rolled down her cheeks.
‘Time to stop snuffling,’ Iain whispered.
‘I will. It’s just … I never had any of this last time, not even a cake.’
‘All this and me, too,’ he teased.
Very seriously she took his face in both her hands and said, ‘And you are the best thing of all, Iain Darling, Iain – my – darling!’
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About the Author
ANNA JACOBS is the author of over eighty novels and is addicted to storytelling. She grew up in Lancashire, emigrated to Australia in the 1970s and writes stories set in both countries. She loves to return to England regularly to visit her family and soak up the history. She has two grown-up daughters and a grandson, and lives with her husband in a spacious home near the Swan Valley, the earliest wine-growing area in Western Australia. Her house is crammed with thousands of books.
annajacobs.com
By Anna Jacobs
THE PEPPERCORN SERIES
Peppercorn Street
Cinnamon Gardens
Saffron Lane
Bay Tree Cottage
THE HONEYFIELD SERIES
The Honeyfield Bequest
A Stranger in Honeyfield
Peace Comes to Honeyfield
THE HOPE TRILOGY
A Place of Hope
In Search of Hope
A Time for Hope
THE GREYLADIES SERIES
Heir to Greyladies
Mistress of Greyladies
Legacy of Greyladies
THE WILTSHIRE GIRLS SERIES
Cherry Tree Lane
Elm Tree Road
Yew Tree Gardens
Winds of Change
Copyright
Allison & Busby Limited
12 Fitzroy Mews
London W1T 6DW
allisonandbusby.com
First published in Great Britain by Allison & Busby in 2018.
This ebook edition published in Great Britain by Allison & Busby in 2018.
Copyright © 2018 by ANNA JACOBS
The moral right of the author is hereby asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All characters and events in this publication other than those clearly in the public domain are fictitious and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent buyer.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN 978–0–7490–2272–3
