In fact, it wouldn’t be fair to bring anyone into her life ever again, especially when she thought about exactly what she’d done wrong.
Chapter 6
Jack and Eve walked around the harbour once more before returning to Mary’s. They took it slowly, Jack insisting that Eve hold his arm just in case she felt unsteady again, and she was grateful for the support.
When they arrived back at the cottage, Jack handed the dogs’ leads to her.
‘Aren’t you coming in?’
‘I’ll be over in about ten minutes. I just need to have a quick wash.’
‘Oh, okay. See you soon.’
Eve pushed open the door, unclipped the dogs’ leads, then smiled as they both trotted through to the kitchen with Eve right behind them.
‘Hello, Eve! Did you have a nice walk?’ Aunt Mary rubbed Clio and Harry’s heads. Their long tails waved back and forth as they expressed their happiness at being home with their owner.
‘I did, thank you. It was lovely to see the village again.’
‘And these two didn’t get too tired?’
‘They seemed okay, but to be honest we did stop a few times, so they had time to recuperate along the way.’
‘Oh good!’ Mary patted the dogs once more, then they turned and headed into the lounge and, Eve suspected, the comfort of the sofas. ‘Dinner’s almost ready.’
‘I’m starving,’ Eve said, surprising herself after the amount of ice cream she’d consumed. ‘Jack said he won’t be long. He’s just gone to wash.’
Mary nodded then crouched in front of the Aga and removed a heavy rectangular dish. Eve’s mouth watered as the aromas of garlic and tomatoes reached her nostrils. ‘Is that lasagne?’
‘It is.’
‘It smells delicious.’
‘There’s wine open if you’d like to pour a glass.’
Eve took a seat at the circular pine table and lifted the bottle of red wine. She read the label: Australian Shiraz. 2014. Rich berry fruit flavours and spicy undertones.
‘Pour me one too, please,’ Irene said as she entered the kitchen.
Eve glanced at Mary but her aunt nodded, so she filled three of the glasses from the place settings on the table. She considered pouring some for Jack, but thought it best to wait until he arrived.
‘Can I do anything to help?’ she asked, feeling bad that she was sitting while her aunt was so busy.
‘No, dear, it’s all under control. Anyway, tomorrow’s Sunday so you can help with the roast.’
‘Really? You’d trust me with that?’ Eve took a big gulp of her Shiraz to hide her surprise.
‘It’s not as difficult as you might think.’ Mary chuckled as she placed the lasagne dish in the middle of the table with a basket of garlic bread.
‘Evening!’ Jack said as he strode into the kitchen. Eve almost gasped at how jaw-droppingly gorgeous he was. He’d changed into a clean pale blue T-shirt that clung to his arms and shoulders and showed off the golden hue of his skin. His faded jeans accentuated his muscular thighs and slim hips. In the fading light, his eyes and hair seemed darker than ever, and as he caught her eye, he flashed her a grin that made her cheeks flame.
‘Would you like some wine?’ Eve asked.
Jack held up a bottle. ‘I brought one just in case. Thought it would be nice to celebrate your arrival. I know it means a lot to Mary.’
Eve poured him a glass then handed it to him and he took the seat next to her. His scent washed over her, fresh as spring rain and alpine air. Eve fought the urge to shuffle closer to him and sniff his T-shirt. Instead, she leaned forward and checked the alcohol percentage of the wine; it must be the wine because something was having a strange effect upon her. She felt giddy. Tingly. And not in a bad way, which was nice after experiencing so many unpleasant physical symptoms recently. In addition, the sensation was one she hadn’t felt in some time. She’d been closed down for so long, suppressing all emotion and sensation, as if they came hand in hand, but one afternoon in Conwenna Cove, combined with a nap, a walk in the fresh air and half a glass of wine, had awoken something in her that she couldn’t explain. It reminded her of the holiday feeling she’d experienced in the past; the sweet exhilaration of knowing that two or more weeks of relaxing, eating and freedom stretched ahead.
But she knew this was just a temporary relief, as she wasn’t sure how long she planned to stay in Conwenna. She’d just set out knowing that she needed to heal and recuperate, guessing that she’d take a few days, or maybe even a week. She hoped she’d know when she was ready to return to work. She hoped she would feel ready to return.
Right now, however, as she watched Jack turn on the lamps in her aunt’s kitchen, then light two candles and bring them to the table, Eve didn’t want to think about what she’d be doing in a week’s time, or even two. Right now, she just wanted to live in the moment, and to enjoy the evening.
* * *
Jack tucked into Mary’s delicious lasagne and watched as Eve began to relax. When she’d arrived earlier that day, she’d been tight as a coiled spring, but through the course of the afternoon, she’d unwound. Not fully. There was still tension there; in her shoulders, in her jaw, in her eyes. But it was slowly seeping away.
He had been extremely worried when Eve had experienced some kind of stress attack in the village. He’d seen similar things in his fellow marines in the rehabilitation centre where he’d gone to recover after his injury, but they had been marines and soldiers, people who’d experienced the terrors and stresses of Afghanistan. Eve was the head teacher of a secondary school. Surely her experiences were different, less severe? He knew, though, from his group therapy sessions, that anxiety affected people in different ways and that people had varying levels of tolerance. Mary had always spoken of her niece and her career with great pride, but she had once confessed to Jack that she feared Eve might well burn out. Eve had recovered quite quickly this afternoon, though, and seemed to be relaxing now, so he hoped she’d feel a lot better soon.
He was surprised at how quickly his feelings towards her had changed and it made him wary, yet he was also glad that he’d softened towards her. It would have been difficult having her here for however long she planned to stay if she had been the hard, cold woman he’d imagined. But she wasn’t; he was sure of it.
But what would happen when she did feel better? Would she head back to Bristol and not be seen again for years? It was possible; after all, you heard about it all the time. How those intent on following a career path often put their job first and neglected their loved ones in the process. What was the phrase he’d heard a woman use on a TV chat show that Irene had been watching? That was it: she’d said that her sister would sell her granny to get ahead. At the time it had made him laugh, but really, it wasn’t funny at all.
Jack hated to think of Mary being abandoned again. Hell, he hated to think of Eve going back to whatever it was that had made her so unwell. He shouldn’t care so much; perhaps he shouldn’t get involved at all. He hardly knew the woman but he realized that he wanted to get to know her and that made him uneasy. And also a bit excited.
‘Jack?’
‘Hmmm?’ He looked up.
‘I was just telling Eve that the village fair is on the thirtieth of this month.’
‘Yes, of course.’
‘It’s quite an event. I think you two would enjoy it.’
‘That’s over three weeks away, though, isn’t it?’ Eve asked. Jack watched the colour draining from her cheeks.
‘Yes, dear. It’s always so much fun.’
‘I don’t know if I’ll be here then. I mean, it’s the start of half-term and I’ll need to go back …’
Jack swept a piece of garlic bread around his plate, clearing up the tomato sauce, then popped it into his mouth and crunched it. But it stuck in his throat and he had to take a big slug of wine to wash it down.
‘Well, you take as long as you need, Eve.’ Mary’s eyes were filled with concern. ‘You shouldn’t rush bac
k, sweetheart.’
Eve chewed her lip and Jack wanted to reach out and take her hand, to convince her that what Mary was saying was right. He’d seen how unwell she was, how the stress had got to her; she should take her time and recover fully. A relapse was possible otherwise, wasn’t it? But he didn’t feel that it was his place to chip in, so he remained silent.
‘Can I have more wine, please?’ Irene held out her glass.
Jack lifted the bottle and shrugged at Mary, who mouthed, Just a little. Irene enjoyed a glass of wine but he knew that getting her drunk would not lead to a restful sleep for anyone. The previous weekend, he’d come back from a late-night stroll to find Mary and Irene in the back garden, Irene dressed in a bright pink nightie and green wellies as she dug through the flower bed. Mary had been calmly telling her to leave the gardening until it was light, but Irene had stubbornly insisted that the flower bed needing weeding immediately. Jack had managed to convince her to go back inside by telling her there was cake in the kitchen. When he’d asked what had happened, Mary told him she’d taken a quick shower while Irene was napping, but when she’d come back downstairs, Irene had already been up and had almost polished off a bottle of cooking sherry. So Irene plus excessive amounts of alcohol led to night-time gardening, and Jack didn’t fancy a repeat performance of that. He knew Mary wouldn’t be keen either.
When everyone had finished eating, Jack helped Eve to clear the table. She’d gone quiet since Mary’s comments about her staying on and he was concerned.
‘Are you okay, Eve?’ he asked quietly as he ran hot water into the sink.
‘What?’ She raised her green eyes to meet his. ‘Oh yes, I’m fine.’ She handed him a plate.
‘It’s just that when Mary asked about the May fair, you seemed troubled.’
‘I’m fine. Thank you.’
‘Well if you want a sounding board, I’m a good listener.’
Eve smiled and nodded. ‘Thank you. I appreciate it.’
The fact that she didn’t divulge any more confirmed that she wasn’t keen to talk about it. He couldn’t help feeling a bit hurt. But what had he expected? That because he’d held her earlier when she’d been shaking, she’d open up to him completely? And anyway, would he even want her to? The last thing he wanted was to have a woman rely on him.
They did the dishes in silence, as Irene chattered on about her days on the stage and how she was looking forward to her cruise with Frank Sinatra. No one tried to correct her about the late crooner; it seemed unfair when she was evidently enjoying herself so much.
Jack had found a sense of peace in Conwenna Cove. The pain he’d suffered after leaving the marines and finding out that the woman he’d loved wasn’t who he thought she was had faded and eventually been replaced by acceptance. And sometimes, on rare occasions, by hope. He didn’t expect to feel happiness, but when he did, it was relished. These days, happiness came in the form of a sunny day, seeing a dog rehomed, or a delicious dinner cooked by Mary. He didn’t expect to find love again either, knowing as he did that it could tear a man’s heart in two and grind him down like nothing else. He had been able to replace the dreams he’d once had with substitutions. And that had sufficed: by expecting less, he was less likely to be hurt or let down. But now, as he listened to Irene, he realized he had also been afraid to expect too much. Irene – who had once danced and laughed and loved – still had hopes for the future. Despite her advanced years and sporadic memory loss, she had dreams she wanted to come true. Whatever your age, it was good to have aspirations, to have hope. And for some reason he couldn’t explain, it was suddenly very important to him that the petite blonde woman next to him knew that too.
Chapter 7
Eve stretched out in bed like a satisfied cat. She was so comfortable. The mattress cradled her body and the pillows were like fluffy clouds beneath her head. She knew it was morning because there was light peeping around the edges of the curtains, but she had no idea what time it was.
And the thought made her smile.
Usually, she’d wake around four thirty then try to stay in bed until five, maybe even five thirty, but she’d spend most of that tossing and turning, thinking about the day ahead and what she’d need to do. Today was different. She’d slept deeply and couldn’t recall dreaming. Since she’d suffered her loss, her dreams had been vivid, disturbing jumbles that had haunted her throughout the day unless she kept busy, yet last night she’d escaped the usual horrors. Perhaps it was being in a different location. Perhaps it was because she’d relaxed in good company the previous evening. Perhaps it was the red wine …
Whatever the reason, Eve was grateful.
She stretched again and wiggled her toes, savouring the sensation of just lying down; being peaceful. The duck-down duvet was soft and airy and it made her feel as safe and warm as she had when she’d stayed with her aunt as a child. She could lie here and imagine that she was a child again, safe from all worries and harm, and that later on in the day Mary would take her to the beach, where they would build sandcastles, eat sandwiches and paddle in the sea. It was a wonderful warm feeling to lose herself in that childish place, even if just for a few minutes. Perhaps Mary was right about Conwenna Cove and being around family who cared; it could help her to heal.
Then Jack’s face popped into her mind. Handsome, caring Jack. Or so he’d seemed yesterday. She’d helped him with the dishes after dinner then had a cup of tea with Mary and Irene. Jack had excused himself, stating that he had a few things to sort out before bed. He’d kissed Mary’s cheek and Irene’s hand, then paused next to Eve as if wanting to say or do more. But he hadn’t. Eve wasn’t surprised, because she hardly knew him, but she also knew that if he’d tried to kiss her cheek, she’d have let him.
She flushed as she remembered what she’d seen just before she climbed into bed. She’d brushed her teeth then realized she was thirsty, so crept downstairs to get a glass of water. As she’d been running the tap, she’d heard a noise next door, so she opened the back door and crept out into the garden. There was a short fence between the cottage gardens with a trellis on top. It offered some privacy, but as the roses climbing the trellis weren’t yet in bloom, Eve was able to see through it and had caught sight of Jack walking up the garden carrying a bottle of water and a black case, wearing nothing except for the jeans he’d had on earlier.
She had wanted to look away but found herself unable to do so. The night had been clear and her view of him unhindered. When he’d reached his shed, he’d turned and placed the water on the ground, and his muscular chest and arms had been exposed in all their glory; every part of his honed torso shown to perfection in the silvery moonlight. He’d unlocked the shed with a large key he retrieved from his pocket, then turned back to pick up his water. At that moment, something had poked Eve in the bum and she’d screeched. When she turned, Clio was right behind her, wagging her tail as if she’d just stumbled upon a great game.
Eve had quickly turned to check if Jack had heard her, but he’d disappeared from view. She’d rubbed Clio’s head then ushered her inside and locked the door, hoping that Jack hadn’t realized that she’d been watching him.
Again.
She sat up in bed and rubbed her eyes, the calm she’d felt on waking now seeping away. What was Jack doing out there at all hours and without a shirt on? He had a perfectly good cottage, so why was he spending time in a wooden shed? Were there some illegal plants growing out there that he had to tend to at night when no one else was around, or did he have a weird hobby that had to go on behind locked doors? She really hoped not, because it wouldn’t be good for her aunt to have an unsavoury tenant. However, it could be perfectly innocent. Perhaps he had his own gym out there and he’d gone to work out. That would certainly explain his ripped physique. She decided to try to find out what he was up to when she had the chance. It would help put her mind at rest when she did leave Conwenna Cove.
She swung her legs over the edge of the bed, then stood and slipped her dressing
gown on. She located her slippers then made her way to the bathroom. When she plodded down the stairs, she listened carefully, trying to work out how many people were in the kitchen. She could hear Mary, Irene and a man.
But it wasn’t Jack.
‘Morning, Aunt Mary!’
‘Ah, hello, Sleeping Beauty.’ Mary crossed the kitchen and hugged Eve. Irene raised a mug in greeting from her place at the table. ‘Edward, this is my niece. Eve, this is Edward Millar from the village.’
‘Pleased to meet you.’ The white-haired man held out a hand and Eve shook it firmly. ‘I’ve heard a lot about you, Eve. Mary talks about you all the time.’
‘Hi,’ Eve replied, trying to remember if her aunt had mentioned this man before.
‘Edward’s a local fisherman. He came bearing gifts,’ Mary said as she pointed to a white paper parcel next to the sink. ‘Nothing like freshly caught megrim sole.’
Eve nodded, though she’d never heard of the fish before. Any fish she ate these days either came in breadcrumbs from the supermarket or was served in a restaurant smothered in a fancy sauce.
‘There’s tea in the pot.’ Mary pointed at the table.
Eve took the chair next to Irene and filled a mug.
‘Well I guess I’d better be going,’ Edward said.
‘Nonsense, stay for breakfast.’ Mary shook her head and nudged him as she approached the sink. A broad grin broke out on his weathered face and Eve froze, her mug of tea halfway between the table and her lips. Was there something going on between Mary and the fisherman?
‘I’d better not. You’ve company today. But I’ll see you soon?’
‘Yes, of course.’ Mary nodded. ‘Let me show you that shrub I was talking about.’ She ushered him out through the back door.
‘If the wind blows, you’ll get stuck like that,’ Irene whispered, breaking into Eve’s thoughts.
Summer at Conwenna Cove Page 6
