Nick grabbed a handful of his blond fringe and gave it a tug.
“Yes, my lady. Thank you, my lady. I knows my place,” he said in a thick West Country accent. “I’ll just toil in the field with the other serfs.”
“You’re being ridiculous,” Ella snapped. She didn’t like being teased, Jake noticed, or being disagreed with in any way. She was the sort of woman that a man could only shut up by being in charge in every way and, being an easy-going guy, Jake knew that she wasn’t for him. He wanted someone he could just be himself with, someone with whom he never needed to fight. A marriage of true minds, as Shakespeare had put it.
Once this ball was over he was really going to have to spell it out to Ella that nothing further was going to happen between them.
While Ella tapped at her phone, simultaneously firing questions at him about food and managing to glower at Nick, Jake did his very best to make all the right noises and to look pleased to see her. Any other man in his right mind would indeed be thrilled to see Ella St Milton, who today was looking sexy in a tight dress that practically screamed about just how full her boobs were and how taut and toned her stomach was. It wasn’t the usual choice of clothing for a resident of Polwenna Bay, that was for certain. Jeans and hoodies tended to be the norm here, plus a pair of stout boots for all the trudging up and down hills. Even Nick’s jaw was all but resting on the kitchen table – and Alice’s stunned expression would have been comical if Jake hadn’t felt at bit like a lion that’d been cornered by a particularly clever big-game hunter.
He sat next to Ella, feeling smothered by the sickly sweet scent she always wore, and doing his best to pay attention to the very detailed seating plan she was now explaining. Yet Jake couldn’t help it; his thoughts were drifting upstairs again. This time, though, the bruises blooming on Summer’s soft skin were utmost in his mind’s eye and he saw again that jagged silver scar snaking across her shoulder. His fists clenched in fury. Someone had hurt her and this filled Jake with a murderous rage. If he saw that person, and he had a good idea who it was, he would kill them. The strength of his emotion took his breath away; it both terrified and thrilled him because it had come from nowhere, as unbidden and as instinctive as his feelings for Summer had always been. Jake wanted to wrap her in his arms and press kisses onto her forehead, her eyelids and her throat. He wanted to promise her that it would never happen again, tell her that if she would just trust him he would keep her safe forever.
Forever? Jake’s chest tightened. What the hell was he thinking? Forever?
Did he still love her? Had the past twelve years, a huge part of them spent trying to forget her, been worth nothing? She’d only been back in Polwenna Bay a short while, but already he was finding it hard to think about anything else.
Was this love?
“Jake! You’re miles away,” Ella was scolding him. “Do try and concentrate! I have to get this finished today. Now, do we sit with Richard and Judy at the celebrity table or do you think it’s better if we’re with the Earl and Countess? I know you’ll love them. He’s great fun and she’s absolutely beautiful.”
Jake couldn’t have cared less if she seated him next to Punch and Judy. All he could think about was Summer – and suddenly he realised that he didn’t want to waste another second away from her. Before he knew it he was on his feet and heading towards the bathroom.
“Where are you going?” Ella cried. “We’ve not finished!”
“I’m just checking on Summer. She’s upstairs drying out after being caught in the rain,” Jake said. Even to him the explanation sounded odd, and Ella’s neat brows drew together. Turning to Alice, he added, “She’s been up there for ages. Do you think she’s OK?”
“You don’t need to go anyway, Jake. She’s perfectly fine. I met her on the lane when I was on my way up,” smiled Ella.
Jake stared at her. “What?”
Ella patted the chair beside her. “We are talking about Summer Penhalligan, aren’t we? Glamour model? Reality TV star? Engaged to Justin Anderson, which I guess makes her a WAG? She was just leaving Seaspray as I was arriving. She said that she’d been catching up with you, Alice.” She widened her eyes. “Funny, she didn’t mention anything about drying off though.”
“Summer’s gone?” Jake felt as though he’d taken a sucker punch in the guts. She’d left without saying goodbye? Run away from him?
Then again, it wouldn’t exactly be the first time she’d done this, would it?
Ella nodded. “She seemed in a real hurry, something about wanting to call Justin? I can hardly believe she’s engaged to him, can you?”
Actually, no, Jake couldn’t. Not after the bruises and the scars he’d seen.
“We had a lovely chat,” Ella carried on, apparently oblivious that with every word she spoke Jake took another blow to his heart. “She even said that she and Justin would do their best to come to the ball! Wouldn’t that be amazing! Justin Anderson is a real A-lister. I read somewhere that he’s the new David Beckham. Having him attend would really make the headlines. You can’t buy publicity like that.”
Jake could hardly believe his ears. Summer was going back to Justin? It was true that she hadn’t explicitly told him that her injuries were because of Justin; she’d merely given Jake the story about falling against the kitchen island, which he’d swiftly interpreted as she was shoved against the kitchen island. But the fact that she’d fled to Cornwall without any money or solid plans spoke volumes. She couldn’t possibly want to go back to him. Something was very wrong.
“I need to see her,” he said.
“If you’re worried about her car keys, I’ll give them to Eddie,” offered Nick. “I said I’d meet him in the pub later. Just for a half, before you start, OK? I’m not going on the beer again, I promise!”
Jake was torn. He wanted nothing more than to chase after Summer, pull her into his arms and keep her safe – but didn’t that make him as controlling as Justin? Summer had walked away from him twice now. She had made her feelings clear. Yet he was sure that there had been something between them earlier. He’d felt it, he knew he had: that unmistakable pull of mutual sympathy and the crackle of sexual attraction. Something was holding her back, he just knew it. She was keeping secrets from him and those secrets were making her run.
“We can finish this later if you like?” Ella offered. “Dinner at mine?”
Alice stepped in. “I think now is a great time, dear. I’ll make some more tea in a moment if you’d fill the kettle and wash the mugs?”
Ella looked a bit shocked at the idea of washing up but Alice had a way of voicing her orders as polite requests, so she just nodded her blonde head meekly and rose to collect the dirty cups.
“Nick, you can take those car keys to Eddie now, then there’s no need to go to the pub later and you won’t be tempted to have a drink,” Alice continued. “And Jake, before you get back to the seating plans I need you to help me reach something in the pantry.”
This wasn’t a request either. Jake followed his grandmother out of the kitchen and along the narrow passageway that led to the northern and cooler side of the house, a place where Alice fought a constant battle against black mould and where the walls crumbled at the slightest touch, as though they were made of chalk. There was a pantry here, a small and chilly room with a window that for some long-forgotten reason was covered in chicken wire as well as a blind. The room wasn’t really used very much, since Jake had treated the family to a huge American-style fridge, so he was at a loss as to what his grandmother might need.
“Nothing,” was Alice’s reply when he asked her. Her lined face was tired and worried and she reached out and touched his cheek tenderly. Her fingertips were as soft as chamois leather. “But I wanted to talk to you alone and this was the only place I could think of. For such a big house it’s pretty difficult to try and get a quiet space.”
“So we’re hiding in the larder?”
Alice smiled. “Can you think of anywhere else, love?”
<
br /> Actually, Jake couldn’t. His gran was right. The larder was dark and still, and far enough from the kitchen for them to talk without any danger of being overheard. A slice of daylight slipped in from beneath the blind and danced through the wire.
Jake had the strangest feeling that Seaspray was holding its breath. He knew he was.
“It probably isn’t my place to say this,” Alice began. She shook her head and sighed. “Oh, who am I trying to kid? It definitely isn’t my place or even my secret to tell, but I love you Jake and I don’t want to see you be hurt all over again. I might be old and my eyes aren’t what they once were, but there are some things I can still see as clearly as I ever did – and one of them is how you feel about Summer. No, don’t interrupt me,” she said sharply as Jake began to protest, “and don’t treat me like a fool. It’s written all over your face. And if I can already tell because I know you, I promise that it won’t be very long before everyone else can too.”
Jake shook his head in disbelief. He’d only just admitted his feelings to himself yet Alice had already guessed them.
“Are you some kind of witch?” he teased.
Alice smiled. “You don’t live this long without learning a few things about human nature along the way. But, Jake love, please be careful with Summer. She’s a very troubled young woman and it’s complicated for her right now.”
“Because Justin hits her?”
His grandmother closed her eyes wearily. “I feared as much when I saw her face. Poor little Summer. What a mess.”
“So that’s it? That’s what’s worrying you?” Jake shook his head. “Granny, I’m not scared of Justin Anderson. Any guy who can do that to a woman isn’t a man at all.”
“No, of course he isn’t,” Alice agreed. Then she took a deep breath and said the words that turned all Jake’s half-formed hopes and dreams to dust.
“But he is the father of her baby.”
Jake stared at her. The flagstones seemed to shift and heave beneath his feet like the deck of Penhalligan Girl. Summer’s secret, the way he’d felt that she was holding something from him, the distant look in those hauntingly beautiful green eyes – suddenly all these things made perfect sense.
“What?”
“Summer’s pregnant, Jake. She told me earlier on while you were getting changed and running her a bath. I should imagine that’s why she’s here. She’s come to see her family. She hasn’t run away, my love. She really is just having a break.”
Jake’s head spun as the world, a fantasy world that he’d created, spun on its axis. Summer was going back to Justin. Of course she was, because she’d never left him in the first place, had she? That was all in Jake’s imagination, all part of his pathetic hope that maybe, just maybe, they could start again. He’d only seen what he’d wanted to see. She’d never told him otherwise, had never given him the slightest indication that she still had feelings for him. In fact, she’d been adamant that her life was fine.
Jake was furious with himself for getting close again. He wouldn’t make that mistake twice.
Summer was lost to him. She was engaged to another man and she was going to have his child. It was time that Jake forgot her for good.
Chapter 21
Jules had hoped that the arrival of rain and wind would mean a few days off from the early morning walks, but no such luck. Danny Tremaine hadn’t been in the army for nothing and, as he’d pointed out with a laugh when Jules had timidly mentioned the weather, a bit of rain and mud hadn’t stopped his men marching twenty miles with fully laden backpacks. Feeling grateful that she was only walking three miles over the cliffs, Jules had stopped moaning and put on her waterproofs.
For somebody with his injuries Danny certainly put her to shame, Jules had soon decided. Even at his most unfit and with a limp he still managed to cover the ground far more easily than she did. She found herself constantly having to sprint to catch him up. Morgan just zoomed ahead with the sickening energy of childhood, snapping away like mad with his beloved camera, and probably running twice the distance as he zigzagged backwards and forwards to show her and Danny the latest shot.
The early starts were hard going for Jules, who was definitely not a morning person, but the grim business of dragging herself out of a warm bed and into the still-dark world was more than compensated for by the stunning sunrises that turned the sea to molten gold and the clouds to cotton candy. Another benefit was that her waistbands soon felt a little looser and she wasn’t puffing nearly as much when she climbed up the steep lane to the vicarage. All the fresh air had put colour in her cheeks too; when Jules looked in the mirror (an activity she usually did her best to avoid), she was pleased to see that her city pallor had been replaced by a healthy glow. Maybe there was something in this exercising lark after all? She and Danny had only been walking together for a short time but already Jules thought she could see a difference in them both. Then again, where her new friend was concerned the sparkle in his eyes probably had as much to do with staying away from the booze as it did with the fresh air.
Today Morgan was with his mother and Jules didn’t have any morning activities pencilled into her diary, so Danny had chosen a longer route for them. This time they weren’t taking the cliff path but instead were leaving Polwenna by means of a very steep back lane and then following a babbling river through an overgrown and heavily wooded valley to the next village. The thought of the extra miles made Jules’s legs ache before they’d even started – but Danny had promised that there was a hotel at their destination that served the best bacon rolls ever, and that if she was really tired they could catch the bus back.
Some people would do anything for money or sex, Jules reflected as she followed Danny’s broad frame along the footpath, but she was easily won over by a good bacon sandwich!
“How are you doing?” Danny called over his shoulder. “That last bit was pretty steep. Legs OK?”
Actually they were. Jules was surprised. “I didn’t really notice how steep it was,” she admitted. “I was too busy looking at the view.”
Danny smiled. He had a lovely smile; it crinkled the corners of his eyes and made dimples dance across his cheeks. Jules wished she saw more of it because, like the sun that was now peeking out from behind the clouds, it softened everything and made her heart lift.
“That’s because you’re getting fitter,” he told her. “A week ago you’d have been moaning non-stop.”
“I would not!” Jules said, outraged. Then she thought about it. “Well, maybe just a bit.”
He raised a questioning eyebrow. “At one point I thought I’d need to call the crash team!”
“Cheek! OK, I may have moaned now and again but I still did it, didn’t I?”
Danny nodded. “You certainly did and now look at you. We’ve done almost seven miles now, and most of it uphill too, and I don’t think you’ve moaned once. Well done, Private Mathieson!”
Jules saluted. “Sir! Yes, sir!”
“And I think I’m doing pretty well for a cripple,” Danny continued. “The damp makes my leg ache like hell but I’m getting there.”
“Just as well because I forgot to pack the portable wheelchair,” Jules said, patting her rucksack. “Never mind, Danny. If it gets too much I think I could probably carry you over my shoulder. That’s how much fitter I feel.”
“Oh really?” He raised his eyebrows. “That sounds like a challenge to me. Maybe I should throw you over my shoulder and see how much you like it?”
Jules gulped at the idea of Danny Tremaine throwing her over his shoulder. An image of him carrying her away somewhere quiet where he kicked the door shut, threw her to the floor, and… and…
Yes. Well, anyway. That was quite enough of that. Jules felt quite hot and bothered and was relieved that Danny would think this was from her exertions rather than an imagination that just lately had been going a bit mad. She really shouldn’t have read the bodice-ripper that Sheila Keverne had accidentally left behind yesterday when she’d been
brass cleaning. It might have been far more exciting reading than the Bible study notes Jules was meant to be ploughing through, but it was wildly inappropriate for a vicar! Now instead of focusing on St Paul’s epistles, Jules’s brain was full of images of tall alpha males with rippling biceps and bare chests – all of whom seemed to morph into Danny Tremaine.
It was all very unsettling. She must make sure she never, ever read Fifty Shades, not even just to see what her outraged flock were making all the fuss about!
“You’d give yourself a hernia if you tried to lift a lump like me,” Jules quipped hastily. “I’m sure you’re lighter than I am anyway, so I’ll go first.”
Danny frowned. “Why do you always do that?”
“Do what?”
“Put yourself down.”
“Do I?” Jules had never really thought about it before. It was a bit of a habit with her; make the quip about being fat herself before anyone else could. She’d been doing it for years, ever since primary school when Sarah Sutton had pointed out with an evil seven-year-old’s glee that Jules Mathieson was too big to fit through the Wendy-house door. Funny, wasn’t it, how even all these years on that particular memory still had the power to send a hot wave of shame washing over her.
Danny nodded. “Yes. You do it non-stop and it does you no favours. Why don’t you give yourself a break? It must he bloody hard work living with all that negative self-talk.”
Jules shrugged. “Habit, I guess. Anyway, you’re a fine one to go on about negative talk, aren’t you?”
“Touché! Although, to be fair, I am working on it. I don’t think I’ve called Tara a bitch for at least two hours. That deserves a celebration.”
Danny leaned against a tree, pulled a cigarette from his pocket and, placing it in his mouth, lit it. Catching Jules’s disapproving expression he rolled his good eye. “Oh, don’t look at me like that, Rev. It’s one cigarette.”
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