The Lovebirds

by Cressida McLaughlin

  ‘I’m not detecting nearly enough smugness,’ he said. ‘It was a triumph, surely?’

  ‘It went as well as could be expected,’ Abby said, but Jack shook his head pitifully.

  ‘You need to blow your own trumpet more. I know you’re dogged about that place, that you’re probably already thinking about the next event, but give yourself space to take it in, to be proud of what you’ve achieved.’

  ‘You don’t think I’m proud of myself?’

  ‘You don’t show it, but of course I have no idea what’s going on inside your head.’

  Thank God, Abby thought.

  ‘I picked up a copy of the paper,’ Jack continued. ‘It was a stellar write-up, and the photos were impressive. Has it increased footfall?’

  ‘It’s been two days!’ Abby said, laughing. ‘But I hope it will – lots of the people who came on the walk want to show their friends, and I’ve seen more cars in the car park at closing time, so some are obviously going to see it for themselves. I’ve spoken to Penelope about opening later for the next few weeks, so we can answer questions or direct anyone who comes specifically to see it, but she’s adamant it would be too expensive. I’ve told her I don’t mind staying later without extra pay – it’s only for another few weeks – but she still won’t do it.’

  ‘You don’t want to wear yourself out,’ Jack said. ‘But it seems strange that she’s so reluctant when it’s likely to help your cause.’

  ‘She’s properly worried, Jack. She told me—’ She stopped, remembering Penelope’s request for confidentiality.

  ‘What?’ Jack leaned forward, his forearm resting along the back of the sofa, fingertips touching Shalimar.

  ‘She said …’ Surely when Penelope had told her to keep it quiet, she had meant only from reserve staff – and obviously Octavia. Jack wasn’t the kind of person to go gossiping, even if he had people in Meadowgreen he could gossip with. ‘She hinted that she was under pressure to sell Swallowtail House, that the reserve is still costing much more than it’s making.’

  ‘Really? God. Leo’s never mentioned anything about the situation being that bad, and I get the impression he knows Penelope well. He said that my moving up here would be mutually beneficial, that Penelope needed a tenant, and I needed to hide away, write a brilliant book and see if I could drag my career out of the dungeon.’ He gave her a wry smile. It was the first time he’d referred to his past with any kind of humour.

  ‘And are you – is it going OK? You said your writing was going well?’

  ‘It’s all coming together. And it could be what I need; it could work. I’m aiming to be a bit more daring with this one, step out of my comfort zone. There’s still a crime to be solved, but – hopefully – it has more depth than my previous novels. And it’s the first one set outside London, which has given it a completely different feel.’

  ‘Central London doesn’t have many nature reserves,’ Abby said.

  ‘Exactly,’ Jack nodded. ‘But it’s a risk, and if it’s a flop then the press will have a field day, saying I’ve been permanently scarred by what I did, my conscience coming back to bite me. It’s a sorry situation and makes me wonder why I got into it in the first place.’

  ‘Because you love writing?’ Abby suggested. ‘Working on the reserve isn’t always comfortable; it can be cold and damp, you can get bitten by mosquitos in the summer or end up waist deep in mud, but I wouldn’t do anything else.’

  ‘But none of those things are of your own making,’ Jack said. ‘They’re accepted side effects of working with nature. I was stupid. All of this could have been avoided so easily.’ He let out a frustrated sigh. ‘Anyway, this isn’t round two of the pity party, this is badger watch. Shall we set up after dinner?’

  ‘Sounds good.’ Abby sipped her gin and tonic, her fizzing nerves given a respite when Jack went to dish up the food. He returned with wine and glasses, poured two large measures and disappeared again, coming back with steaming bowls of chilli and rice, the soured cream and cheese separate so Abby could add them herself. He placed everything on the glass coffee table.

  ‘I didn’t think this through,’ he said. ‘The dining room is full of things I brought with me and haven’t bothered to unpack. I started clearing it this afternoon, but the table is pretty rickety. I thought laps would be safer, if not exactly good host behaviour.’

  ‘Laps are fine,’ Abby said. ‘You don’t have to stand on ceremony with me. Being here is enough.’

  It was a couple of seconds before she realized what she’d said. Jack was sprinkling cheese onto his dinner, not meeting her eye. Being here was enough what? She cringed inwardly, and ate a mouthful of chilli.

  ‘This is delicious. Do you do much cooking?’

  ‘I ate out a lot in London,’ he said, ‘so I’ve had to get back into the habit since I’ve been here and being on your own makes it awkward sometimes. It’s nice, sharing food with someone. It’s a long time since I’ve done that – apart from the chips in the Skylark, of course.’

  ‘Of course,’ Abby said. ‘You weren’t … attached, before this, back in London?’

  ‘Not for a while now.’ He winced as if that, too, held painful memories.

  ‘Are you lonely?’ she asked.

  He shrugged. ‘I’m a writer, so time alone is productive, but of course I wouldn’t choose to live a hermit’s existence. When I moved up here it felt like a suitable punishment that I kept alive by being furious about everything – walkers, pheasants, forthright women turning up on my doorstep.’ He gave her a quick smile. ‘More recently it’s been difficult, not being able to call on my friends on a rainy afternoon and go to the pub. What about you? I know you have Raffle, and that you’re close to Rosa and the others, but the village isn’t that big. Do you ever feel isolated?’

  Abby finished her mouthful, taking her time before answering. ‘I love it here,’ she said, her pulse thrumming even though she was the one who’d brought the subject up. ‘And I don’t mind being single. In some ways, it’s a lot simpler. That sounds awful, doesn’t it? Like I’m uncaring, but it’s not that. There are things in my past … family traits that I don’t want to emulate or go looking for.’

  Jack left his fork in his bowl, the food momentarily forgotten. ‘Like what?’

  Abby closed her eyes. She hadn’t meant to be this frank with him tonight, to travel down this path. ‘My mum and dad had a very turbulent relationship,’ she settled on. ‘I used to escape into the fields at the back of our house and spend hours there, looking for birds and butterflies, staying out of their way. Mum always told me they were just passionate about each other, but as I grew up, I realized it wasn’t healthy, the way they were. My dad, particularly.’

  ‘Your bad memories,’ Jack whispered, piecing it together instantly. ‘Was it ever physical?’

  Abby put her plate on the coffee table. ‘Sometimes,’ she admitted. ‘Especially towards the end. Mum was the main target, but sometimes I got in the middle. They divorced when I was fifteen.’ She stared at her knees. ‘I’m worried that I might – that things will repeat themselves. I’ve made some bad decisions with previous relationships.’

  Jack didn’t speak for so long that she wondered if he was working out how to ask her to leave. Instead, he placed his hand lightly over hers. ‘I’m so sorry, Abby.’

  ‘It’s not your fault.’

  ‘And yet here you are, telling me something so personal, and difficult, something that has affected your whole life, and all you know about my past is that I’m like him, that I was capable of—’

  ‘No, Jack, I don’t think – I mean, I don’t know you, really, but …’

  He looked troubled, weary, suddenly, his forehead crumpled in a frown.

  ‘I don’t believe you’re like that,’ she continued. ‘It’s hard to explain, but I … I’ve seen first-hand what leads to violence, I’ve sensed it, balled up inside my dad, so I was always on tenterhooks, ready to rush out of the back door if I needed to get away. I d
on’t feel that with you, not remotely. Not even knowing that you did it that one time.’

  She saw his Adam’s apple bob. ‘It was the biggest mistake of my life,’ he said. ‘I’ve regretted it ever since, which I know is no excuse. But you don’t trust yourself not to follow your parents’ path? You can be sure about me, who you’ve known for all of five minutes, but you don’t you think you know yourself that well? Abby, you are one of the kindest, most thoughtful people I’ve ever met. You’re prepared to look beyond someone’s history, to really see them for who they are, but you’re also confident and questioning, you don’t suffer fools gladly. I cannot imagine you making a bad decision.’

  She felt a lump form at the back of her throat. ‘But I have in the past. What if I make the same mistakes again?’

  Her words hung in the air, the insinuation that he was one of those mistakes. But Jack was different. To Darren, to her father, to anyone she’d met.

  ‘I don’t mean …’ She sighed. ‘I’m sure about this. I want to be here, Jack. With you, and the badger.’ She smiled, trying to lighten the mood.

  ‘And I can’t think of anyone I’d rather spend tonight with, even if I had the choice of all my friends and family in London.’

  ‘That’s only because none of them would care about your nocturnal wildlife.’

  ‘Well, of course there’s that, but it is also my birthday.’

  ‘What?’ she sat up straight. ‘Really?’

  ‘Thirty-four today. Happy birthday Jack Westcoat; what a year you’ve had,’ he said dryly, topping up their wine glasses.

  ‘I’m glad I brought cake then, but you should have told me before!’

  ‘There was no reason to, but I am glad you’re here. Even if – God, I’m sorry, Abby. If I’d had any idea about your dad, about what you’d been through, I never would have—’

  ‘What? Sent me a note at the reserve, forcing me to come out and see you? Driven me home that night, taken me for coffee, let me go with you to Swallowtail House? I have to have the opportunity to make up my own mind about people. If I let everyone else dictate my life, then I’ll never get it right.’

  He shook his head. ‘You’re worried about being in harm’s way again, and yet you’re trusting your instincts about me, despite what you’ve read in the press. Why do I get the benefit of the doubt? What makes me different to your previous bad decisions? If it’s because you’re consciously putting what happened behind you, as you told me to do, then doesn’t that prove you’re stronger now, that you don’t need to worry about the past repeating itself anymore?’

  She couldn’t respond, a wave of emotion threatening to overwhelm her. How could he be so open about it, and call her out on her contradictions without blinking? She inhaled quickly, and it came out as a gasp.

  ‘Abby.’ He lifted his hand to her cheek, his thumb grazing her cheekbone. It felt like a lit match against her skin. His expression was tender, but there was something determined about it too. ‘You need to know that I would never—’

  The doorbell rang.

  Jack dropped his hand. ‘Who the hell?’

  Abby sat back on the sofa, her heart pounding, as he went to answer the door. She could see him open it but not who was beyond, and then there was a loud, familiar voice and Abby closed her eyes. Octavia.

  ‘Oh Jack, we heard about your badger vigil and thought we’d bring supplies! Crisps and popcorn, some of that delicious local cider – you must have tried it by now, but if not, tonight’s your lucky night!’

  Octavia bustled into the living room and did a visual sweep of their food bowls, the wine glasses, and the dip in the sofa where, until moments before, Jack had been sitting beside her.

  ‘Octavia, what are you doing here?’ Abby asked.

  ‘I’ve come to join the hunt, and I’m not the only one.’ Rosa and Jonny stepped into the room, Rosa giving her a bashful wave, Jonny nodding hello. Jack stood in the doorway, his arms folded, and Abby was treated to the scowl she had got to know so well but hadn’t seen for a while.

  The greetings were stilted, and Jack stood aside, slightly stunned as Octavia took control, rooting through the kitchen cupboards, finding crockery and glassware.

  ‘Hope we’re not interrupting anything?’ she asked brightly, carrying a tray with five glasses full of amber, sparkling liquid into the living room.

  ‘Oh no,’ Jack said. ‘Of course not.’

  After Octavia had spent half an hour telling Jack about the chapel library and extolling his virtues and the impact he would have on the place – with a few digs thrown in Abby’s direction that she should have already suggested the idea to him – Abby convinced them that they needed to move into the kitchen. She took the night-vision scope out of her bag and helped Jonny set it up. He was more embarrassed than any of them, and she wondered how Octavia had convinced him to come in the first place. She turned off the light and then, leaving the three of them peering out at the garden, took Jack’s hand and pulled him down the corridor to the living room.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said. ‘I had no idea they would turn up.’

  ‘How did they even know about it? Did you tell them you were coming?’

  ‘I didn’t need to. The problem, when you leave a letter for me at the reserve, is that I barely ever get to open it alone. And considering your first one was a complaint, everyone, including Penelope, is always extra keen to know what you’re going to say next.’

  Jack’s eyes widened. ‘So, all my messages to you, they’ve been read by everyone at the reserve?’

  ‘Most of them,’ Abby said. ‘I managed to squirrel a couple away before anyone else saw them.’

  ‘God.’

  She could see the flicker of a smile threatening to break free. ‘What?’

  ‘I was just thinking of some of the things I almost wrote.’ His voice was low, and Abby’s skin prickled. She wanted desperately to ask him what he’d nearly written, but knew that if he told her, even if he was making it up, even if what he said wasn’t remotely seductive, she couldn’t listen to that deep, amused voice for much longer without taking drastic action.

  ‘Jack Westcoat,’ she said, mock-shocked.

  ‘Abby Field?’ He took a step towards her, which was more of a shuffle because there was barely space between them as it was. She inhaled his heady scent, and found her fingers reaching out to take hold of his, testing that connection before she dared make another, deeper one. He bent his head towards her and she held her breath, replaying his words in her mind: Why do I get the benefit of the doubt? She could spend hours answering that question, but as his lips found hers, and his hand cupped the back of her head to bring her closer, all her thoughts dissolved to nothing. She pressed herself against him, slid her hands up his back as his kiss went deeper.

  He pulled away, and then brushed his lips across her cheek, kissing her earlobe, her jaw, her neck. He whispered her name against her skin.

  She wrapped her arms around his waist, closed her eyes and—

  ‘Badger! There’s a badger!’

  Abby jumped, almost bashing Jack’s chin with her shoulder, and as he sighed, then stepped back, his fingers trailing along her arm as if reluctant to let her go, she had time to think that if there had been a badger, Octavia’s screech would have sent it running for the hills.

  She followed Jack to the kitchen where the badger, predictably, was gone.

  ‘Dear Lord!’ Octavia pressed a hand to her ample bosom. ‘I almost got a heart attack! And I swear it looked right at me. On a scale of one to ten, how vicious are they?’

  Abby looked to Rosa for confirmation. ‘I saw it,’ she said.

  ‘And I got a great view through the scope.’ Jonny was grinning, his shyness momentarily forgotten. ‘I might have to get one of these.’

  ‘But viciousness, people?’ Octavia prompted. ‘What if I encounter it on the way home?’

  ‘It would run a mile,’ Abby said. ‘From anyone. They only blunder across people accidentally, and,�
� she added, thinking of her own encounter, ‘they’re much more scared of us than we are of them.’

  ‘I’m not sure that’s true,’ Octavia replied. ‘Honestly, my loves, if I’d realized how dangerous your jobs were, I would have given you more credit.’

  Abby laughed, feeling giddy at the absurdity of the situation. ‘Badgers aren’t dangerous, Octavia. They’re beautiful creatures, and I’m glad you got to see one.’

  ‘You missed it, though.’ She folded her arms, her eyes boring into Jack.

  ‘We were talking,’ he said evenly. ‘It’s not a large kitchen, and I chose to give priority to my guests.’

  ‘So, if Abby’s not a guest, what is she?’

  ‘We were finishing up a conversation from earlier, Octavia,’ Abby said, hoping the lie wasn’t obvious. ‘I’ve got more chance than most to see a badger while I’m at work, so I’m not too disappointed.’

  ‘Besides,’ Rosa added lightly, ‘you can always come back another night.’

  ‘She’d be more than welcome,’ Jack replied, and four pairs of eyes looked at him. He ducked his head and ran a hand through his hair.

  ‘Well, that’s me done in,’ Octavia said. ‘Come on, Abigail, I’ll walk you home.’

  ‘I can take her,’ Jack cut in.

  Octavia patted his arm. ‘It’s no problem. You’ve had a drink, Jack, and we’re neighbours – save you the walk back on your own. And it’s getting late isn’t it, my love?’ she turned to Abby. ‘You working tomorrow? I thought so. Come on, we can all go together.’

  Abby was on the verge of protesting. She wanted to stay, to be alone with Jack and continue what they had started, but whispers of their earlier conversation returned. She might not see him as violent, but the indisputable fact was that he had attacked someone. How well did she really know him? And, more importantly, could she trust herself to make the right decision? She was convinced that he wasn’t another mistake, that he was kind and trustworthy and that this evening hadn’t been an act, but hadn’t she told herself the same thing in the past? Believed her mum when she’d promised Abby that Dad had just been angry, that it was a one off and wouldn’t happen again?