by Emma Davies
Gooseberry Fool
Emma Davies
Gooseberry Fool © Emma Davies 2017
All rights reserved in all media. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic or mechanical (including but not limited to: the internet, photocopying, recoding or by any information storage and retrieval system), without prior permission in writing from the author and/or publisher.
The moral right of Emma Davies as the author of the work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright Designs and Patents Act 1988.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Gooseberry Fool
Chapter 1
Jude Middleton was a very lucky man. He was also terrified of being poor. This fear, which had stalked him since his teenage years now resonated through every part of his being as his powerful car whispered through the grimy streets and away from the city. How did people live like this? In dirty streets, and dirty houses, the cigarettes and booze they fed on the only things that got them through the day. These props were a necessity, he could see that, but they destroyed so much, used up too much of their meagre amount of money, and left nothing good behind, least of all hope.
It made him shudder to think about it, but the city was a necessary evil; from the over-air-conditioned and sterile offices, to the cheaply made clothes of the arrogant young go-getters he met with; from the smell of the traffic fumes to the overpowering perfumes worn as part of a uniform. But whilst they were necessary they were also forgettable, and Jude had been trained in the art of self-preservation for years. As the miles disappeared beneath his tyres Jude shed their layers from his skin as a snake might. Within half an hour it was all a distant memory.
The nights were beautifully light now and the scent from the stocks along the edge of the house rose up to greet him as he made his way up the path to his front door. A child’s bicycle lay abandoned on the front lawn, ready to be picked up again tomorrow once school had ended for the day. The trailing white rose which burgeoned over the porch, had stems heavy in bloom, and their heads brushed his as he placed his key in the lock.
Willow was waiting for him in the hallway, her eyes shiny at seeing him, just as they always were. She had on another of her wafty dresses (as Jude referred to them); it suited her, with her long, wavy blonde hair and slight figure, her bare feet covered by its trailing hem on the thick carpet. He dropped his bag by the door and gathered his wife into his arms, breathing in the smell of orange blossom which she always brought with her. She slipped her hand into his and led him towards the kitchen.
As always, the table and work surfaces were a jumble of school bags and books, toys, hair slides, and the general detritus of a busy day of childhood. It was the same every day, and Jude felt reassured by their presence. The girls were munching their way through fish finger sandwiches by the look of things; great doorsteps of homemade wholemeal bread, dripping with butter. His stomach rumbled at the thought of what Willow might have made for his own supper, the unsatisfactory steak he had eaten at lunchtime having done nothing to appease his appetite.
He stood in the doorway for a minute, anticipating one of his favourite times of day, and sure enough a few seconds later Beth spied him, giving her customary squeal. In an instant both girls had released themselves from the table and rushed to his side.
‘Daddy!’ they chorused.
He swooped each of them up in turn, swinging them sideways and planting a trail of kisses across their wriggling stomachs.
‘Do you know I think you’ve got even more beautiful during the day. Now how can that have happened?’ he asked, laughing.
Amy, the eldest by eleven and a half minutes and far more forthright than her sister, gave a giggle. ‘Don’t be silly Daddy,’ she declared. ‘That’s impossible.’ She smiled up at him through her long fair lashes. They were both so like their mother.
Willow came and took his jacket from him, folding it over her arm as she collected a glass from the cupboard and placed on the table.
‘Come and sit down and I’ll pour you some wine. Did it all go as planned?’
Jude thought of the meeting earlier that day, a meeting that had gone well on the way to sealing probably the biggest deal of his life. He wasn’t ready to share the details yet though, not when so much was at stake. His freedom from Andrew would be the biggest prize, but also the hardest won, and he would need to tread carefully if he was ever to pull it off.
‘Well there are still one or two finer points to be agreed on, but I’d say, yes, it went very well.’ He smiled at Willow, wondering what else she would expect him to say. He didn’t want to lie, but perhaps under the circumstances… ‘Andrew was very pleased at any rate,’ he added, watching her face carefully.
‘Then that sounds like it could be the perfect end to the week, I’m so pleased.’
Frankly, Willow didn’t give a damn whether her father-in-law was happy or not. She despised Andrew with a passion; too much money, too much power, and not an ounce of soul, but for now she would keep this to herself. The time was coming when she would have to reveal her feelings to Jude, of this she was certain, but today was not that day.
She reached into the fridge, took out a bottle of chilled wine and poured her husband a large glass. He’d no doubt want to have a shower and there would be time before supper was ready. She leant down and kissed the top of his head.
‘Supper will be half an hour yet, if you want to grab a shower. You must feel horrible after a day in the city.’
Jude nodded, and glugged back a large swallow of wine. He grimaced. ‘God, this is revolting,’ he said, the vinegary taste hitting the back of his mouth. ‘What is it?’
Willow turned back to the fridge, and waved an airy hand. ‘White wine, that’s all I know,’ she grinned. ‘It was on offer.’ She took out the bottle and handed it to him. ‘Isn’t it any good?’
Jude shook his head affectionately. ‘One day,’ he admonished her, ‘I will get you to appreciate the finer points of wine’s great beauty. Until then please don’t buy rubbish. We have a cellar full of the good stuff, so just choose one of them. We don’t need to scrimp and save.’ He took the bottle from her and stuck it back in the fridge.
He pulled Willow towards him and kissed her, at first only intending for it to be a brief touch of the lips, but she smelled so good and his desire began to rise. It was only when there was a loud chorus of ‘euww’ from the girls that he pulled away, laughing.
‘Isn’t it time these rascals went to bed anyway?’
‘We might not always be able to afford nice things,’ Willow said.
Jude thought of the conversations that had ranged back and forth this afternoon. In a few weeks his signature would be on the bottom of the papers that were being drawn up, and then… maybe she had a point, after all. The deal would secure him a good deal of money initially, but after that their life would most definitely have to change. He reminded himself that this was what he wanted, but old habits die hard, and he wasn’t sure if he was ready for the sacrifice. But Willow must never see the doubt on his face, so he quickly shrugged it away. He flicked a playful finger against the end of her nose, and kissed it. ‘What are we going to do with your mummy?’ he said to the girls. ‘Tell her to behave herself.’
Willow
merely smiled, thinking of the little nest egg that her prudent housekeeping had saved her, and she turned back to the girls.
‘Come on now scamps, daddy’s right, it’s time you were getting sorted. Finish your sandwiches and then it’s time for your bath. If you’re quick we’ll have time for an extra couple of chapters of Winnie the Witch.’
Both girls looked imploringly at her, just as she knew they would. ‘But no staying up tonight mind. I know it’s Friday, but it’s our big day tomorrow, don’t forget.’
‘Strawberries!’ shouted Beth. ‘Yummy!’ and she grabbed Amy’s hand, practically dragging her from the table.
The light was finally leaving the day now, but the sky was still clear and wide. The first and brightest stars were beginning to appear, and Willow hoped that tomorrow would stay fine. The forecast was good; like today, blue skies, but not too hot, and no rain, that was the main thing. She pulled the bedroom curtains closed and went to turn on the shower, the pale glow of the lamp beside her bed illuminating the curve of her skin as she walked.
Jude watched her from the bed, where he lay, still fully clothed; his city suit shed, and now relaxed in jeans and a t-shirt. He’d join her in a few minutes, for what would be the perfect end to his day, and a languid smile passed over his face as he thought about soap sliding over skin. Thoughts of earlier that afternoon were long since forgotten. Jude was home now and that’s all that mattered.
Willow inhaled the the fragrant steam that billowed around her with the fresh scent of lemons. She poured a little more of the oil onto her skin, knowing that in a few moments Jude would join her, and she shivered in anticipation of his touch. She was already lost in the sensation when she felt Jude behind her, his naked body padding soundlessly into the wet room, and a small sigh escaped her as she felt his hand slip across her stomach and over one breast. She turned, moving her own hands.
It must have been towards three in the morning when she awoke. A slight shift in her consciousness that alerted her to the fact that Jude was no longer beside her; but even as she registered his absence from the bed she knew that this was not the only reason for her wakefulness. Fleeting images came back at her, still veiled in a fug of sleep, yet unpleasant enough to wake her. She tried to grasp at them, but the wisps of memory disappeared. A moment later she heard the toilet flush and as Jude returned to wrap his warm limbs around her back, she smiled to herself. There was much to do tomorrow, and finally, time to start putting into place the plans that she had begun to make a few weeks ago. Plans in fact that had come to her during another night of restless sleep plagued by strange dreams, but plans which were so exciting that she now couldn’t wait for the morning. As her thoughts drifted towards the recipes in grandma Gilly’s notebook, she slept, the troubling images she had seen in her sleep all but forgotten.
Chapter 2
It was her art teacher who once told Willow that no sky could ever be this blue. She hadn’t believed him then, and today was confirmation of that. The colour was unbroken, stretching out into the cloudless sky until it reached the horizon, only then paling slightly. The air was soft – not harsh with the fierce heat of late summer, but a gentle pervasive warmth that made her skin smile.
The fields were ready, and in a few moments Willow too would be all set. She just needed to post one more tweet and then she could do no more. But people would come, of that she was sure; they always did. She collected the bottles of water and snacks she had prepared and, snatching up her sun hat on the way out, she walked down the hallway. She paused for a moment by the back door, looking towards the room on her right as if weighing something up, and then with a glance at her watch she pushed open the door.
Her grandma’s old notebook was still on the table where she had left it yesterday, and she reached for it now, running her fingers across the cracked surface, its yellowed pages spilling out from the confines of the navy blue cover. The little silver moon on the top right hand corner of the cover flashed in the sunlight and Willow smiled. She needed no further testament that her actions were the right ones. She closed the door behind her softly, and walked out of the house and down the path, her fingers brushing the tips of the lavender that grew there as she went. She skirted around the apple trees and made her way to the gate which stood in the corner of the garden. She smiled and took a deep breath, whispering a thank you to the sun. The strawberries were waiting.
Even this early in the morning there were a few pickers around. They didn’t officially open for another half an hour, but no-one was ever turned away. The folks who came this early usually picked with a vengeance. They were not the spur of the moment afternoon crowd looking for a punnet of delicious fruit to have with their tea, nor were they families revelling in a day in the sun. They had purpose these early birds; the whole day ahead of them, and by sun down, jar after jar would be filled with sweet sticky jam.
Jude had already opened the wide gates into the car park and set out the signs directing people where to go. He stood now beside their little wooden shop with his back to her, looking up the slight slope of the field, watching Amy and Beth ahead of him. They were in good hands, thought Willow. Peter, their student here for the summer doted on the girls and wouldn’t let them out of his sight. Their enthusiasm for picking would wane in the weeks to come, but today, on their first day of opening, they were just as excited as she was.
She sidled up behind Jude, planting a kiss on the nape of his neck, the pale skin as yet uncoloured by the sun. All that would change soon, even though hats were mandatory, as was sunscreen, long days in the fresh air would soon bring a golden glow to them all.
‘All set, Captain?’ he grinned.
Willow smiled at his greeting. It was how he always addressed her here. Middleton Estates might own all this land, but Willow had never had anything to do with the day-to-day running of their company; that was Jude’s domain. These fields, though, were hers to command.
‘All set,’ she replied, with a smile of her own.
‘So where would you like me, Sir?’ he asked, doffing an imaginary cap. ‘I can pick, or I can man the barricades?’
Willow glanced at her watch. ‘Actually could you pick for me? I’d like to stay here for a bit, you know, to catch up with folk for a while.’
‘Get the gossip more like,’ argued Jude benignly. ‘I know what you’re like.’ He motioned with his head towards the few women who were steadily picking fruit.
‘Humour me,’ she said. ‘I don’t get that many opportunities. Besides which, Freya is going to pop over in a bit. We’ve a few things to talk about.’
Jude narrowed his eyes. ‘Oh ay. I heard they were having a bit of a change of direction at Appleyard. That wouldn’t be what you’re planning to discuss would it?’
‘It might be,’ grinned Willow, laying a finger along the side of her nose. ‘That and to see how things with Sam are working out.’
Jude rolled his eyes. ‘Right well I’m definitely off then if it’s going to be all soppy girl talk.’ He picked up a stack of empty punnets from the table beside the shop doorway and threaded them up his arm. ‘Enjoy your natter.’ He plonked a kiss on her lips and set off up the field.
Willow watched him go, the soft linen of his summer ‘uniform’ sitting comfortably on his lithe body as he moved easily across the ground. God he was gorgeous.
At times, manning the barricades was a pretty apt description of Willow’s morning as her customers jostled for room in the shop. But it was all good natured, as people came to pay for their fruit or to collect punnets in readiness for picking. Many stayed to talk, light-hearted chatter with their neighbours, or with Willow herself, and a few, feeling weak willed, succumbed to one of Willow’s tempting cakes as well. And throughout it all, the summery smell of the strawberries pervaded the air, pungent and sweet, with their heady invitation to be eaten, fingers and lips stained red with their juice. If Willow could bottle the smell and sell it, she’d do that too.
After a couple of hours, the initia
l swell of opening day visitors calmed and returned to the more usual steady movement, and suddenly there was Freya, grinning at Willow like a Cheshire cat.
‘Oh, I haven’t seen you in such a long time,’ she cried. ‘Much too long!’
‘It has been,’ agreed Freya. ‘We mustn’t ever let it get so long again. I don’t even know how it happened.’
Willow stood back to get a better look at her friend, with her gleaming chestnut curls and wide green eyes. She wore an air of contentedness that brought a glow to her cheeks and a softness to her face. ‘Life is good then,’ she surmised.
‘Oh life is very good,’ gushed Freya in reply. ‘Very good indeed. Hard work mind…’
‘But since when has that ever stopped you?’
‘I know… but it’s different now somehow, you know?’
Willow giggled. ‘Oh I do know, Freya Sherbourne. It’s coming off you in waves. Love. That’s what it is, pure and simple.’
Freya blushed. ‘Is it that obvious?’ she grinned. She stood back to let a customer pass by. ‘And what about you? You look great too, and busy by the look of things.’
‘Oh, always,’ she replied. ‘And about to get busier if I have my way.’
‘Which knowing you, you will.’ Freya laughed. ‘So, come on then, tell me what you’re up to. I know you’ve got something up your sleeve, you sounded really mysterious on the phone.’
‘Well, that rather depends on whether what I’ve heard is true…’ Willow trailed off, feeling a little guilty that she hadn’t seen her friend for a couple of months and now here she was about to spring a proposition on her.
She was just about to continue when Jude appeared, carrying half a dozen more punnets full to the brim with strawberries. He took off his hat, and came over to kiss Freya.
‘You look well,’ he commented, catching Willow’s eye. He stood back for a moment, looking between the two women. ‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ he directed at Freya, ‘I don’t think you two have met have you? Can I introduce my wife, the slave driver?’
