Hidden Cottage (24 page)
‘Eliza, don’t,’ Greg said. ‘Please don’t make a scene.’ The pleading desperation in his voice was pitiful, and made her wonder what she had ever seen in him.
‘You’re not worth the effort,’ she said, as he manoeuvred the pushchair containing the sleeping baby so that it was between them. ‘You’re beneath contempt.’
She walked away, then hesitated and turned back. ‘Oh, and you had better come up with a good explanation for your wife as to why you now have a slap mark on your face. But knowing what a first-rate liar you are, I’m sure you’ll think of something.’
The adrenaline still pumping through her, she went to find her friend.
Following a busy weekend with Jeff at home and Jensen, Tattie and Madison staying while house-hunting, Monday had been equally hectic for Mia.
With the wedding season in full swing and Ascot just around the corner, Mia hadn’t had a moment to herself from the minute she’d opened the barn at nine o’clock until now, just gone three. A new delivery of hats had arrived in the middle of the morning and with no more customers booked in, she took the opportunity now to deal with the paperwork from her supplier. Making a copy of the invoice, she then filed the original away for her accountant and the copy for her own records. Next she had a number of phone calls to make, including one to Bev her cleaner who’d left a message saying she wouldn’t be able to make it this week, due to an emergency dental appointment. Bev was Wendy Parr’s cousin and while she was reliable and efficient, Mia knew the woman was a shocking gossip and so she was always circumspect in what she said when Bev was around.
Being circumspect was something Jeff needed to learn. Which was a massive understatement. Shortly before Jensen and Tattie and Madison had left for London, Jensen had told Mia that he’d had a chat with Daisy and had got out of her why she was so upset with Dad. Horrified, Mia had waited until they were alone and then she had tackled Jeff.
‘Don’t look like that,’ he’d said. ‘I know I shouldn’t have said it, but I did. And the more I think about it, the more I stand by the truth of my words.’
‘And what precisely would that be?’ Mia had said, struggling to keep her anger from igniting.
‘That Daisy’s track record shows she’s not known for making the best of decisions.’
‘She was ill, Jeff! Do you still not understand that after all this time? Whatever decisions she made during that period in her life were not those of a happy and well-balanced young woman. She was desperately unhappy and it was our doing.
Our
doing. We failed her.’
‘Oh, here we go, another round of blame distribution. Why do you always do that?’
‘Because I still feel guilty that I didn’t see the signs, and I always will. Don’t you feel guilty at all?’
‘If you remember, I was busy travelling—’
That was the point of ignition, when her anger flared and she had to walk away from Jeff for fear of doing or saying something she would regret. His adamant refusal to accept that he played any part in Daisy’s anorexia was beyond her comprehension. Whenever they got near discussing the issue, something Jeff was loath to do, it was she who always ended up feeling solely responsible. He might not come right out and say the words, but the implication was there and ensured that yet another layer of guilt was added to the load she already carried. Transference of guilt, it was called, and Jeff was a master of it.
An hour later, satisfied that everything was in order, paperwork and phone calls made, along with displaying the range of new hats, Mia awarded herself the rest of the day off. She was checking the diary to see what appointments she had for tomorrow and the coming days, when she heard the door open. She looked up to see Owen and her heart quickened.
‘Not intruding, am I?’ he asked.
‘Not at all,’ she replied, doing her best to mask her surprise, to appear perfectly at ease and normal. In the weeks since he had invited them all to The Hidden Cottage, other than spotting him driving by in his car, this was the first time she had seen him. She knew from general talk in the village that he’d been busy doing all the things that everybody does when moving into a new house, but she had wondered if the reason their paths hadn’t crossed was because he had been avoiding her. Perversely her disappointment at not seeing him again had outweighed her relief at not having to confront the Awkward Moment between them. Just as she had known it would, that scene in the boat with him had played on her mind and had left her still undecided whether he was just a cynically shrewd man who’d detected she was unhappy in her marriage and would therefore be an easy conquest, or if he had meant what he’d said. The two scenarios were equally unsettling.
He closed the door and came in. ‘So this is where it all goes on,’ he said, looking about him. ‘I’m impressed.’
‘Thank you. Are you looking for a hat for a special occasion?’ she joked.
He smiled. ‘Funnily enough, no.’ He approached the counter. ‘I’ve brought this for you. It’s your torch, the one you lent me the night of the fete when I came for dinner. I meant to give it back to you before, but I forgot. Then I forgot about it again yesterday when Tattie and Jensen brought Madison for her piano lesson. And for the record, you were right when you said I would need it; that road really is pitch black late at night.’
She put the torch to one side and was about to say something when he said, ‘I’ve also come to apologize. I behaved badly the last time I saw you and I’ve come to the conclusion that the only way I can rid myself of the whole embarrassing memory is to tough it out and prove to you that I’m not the man you think I am.’
She couldn’t help but be charmed by his approach. ‘And how do you plan to go about that?’ she asked.
‘I’d like to invite you to come and see something with me. After which I’m hoping that you’ll review matters and hopefully think well of me again. On the basis that you thought well of me in the first place, before I made such a monumental prat of myself.’
‘What if I said you didn’t make a prat of yourself?’
‘Then I’d think you were being extraordinarily kind and polite.’
The phone on the counter rang, making Mia start. ‘Sorry,’ she said, ‘I’d better take this.’
‘Go ahead.’ He turned away tactfully.
She picked up the receiver. ‘Mia’s Hats,’ she said: it was a customer enquiring about opening hours and how to find the barn. While she gave the woman the information she needed, Mia watched Owen moving about the barn. He came to a stop in front of one of the displays and picked up a hat – it was the one Madison had called a flying saucer when she’d helped Mia on Saturday, just as she had when she’d stayed on at Medlar House for a few extra days during half-term. To Mia’s surprise, Owen put the fuchsia pink hat on his head, looked at himself in the mirror, then turned around to show her, at the same time pulling a face and striking a pose. Trying not to laugh, she carried on giving directions to the woman on the phone.
‘Sorry,’ he mouthed at her. He removed the hat and put it carefully back on the stand. As he stood sideways on to Mia, with sunlight pouring in on him through the large picture window, she observed his profile – the clean-shaven chin, the straight nose, the short dark hair that was greying slightly just above his ears. He was dressed in old jeans that had grass stains on the hems and a navy-blue T-shirt that showed off his broad shoulders as well as a pair of deeply tanned arms.
What would it take
, that wily treacherous voice of temptation reminded her,
to believe he was serious and do the unthinkable?
‘I shouldn’t have done that,’ he said when she finished the call. ‘Now your estimation of me has gone down even further. If that’s at all possible.’
‘Shall we just accept that you’ve hit rock bottom and start afresh?’
He smiled. ‘That sounds more than generous.’ He came back to the counter. ‘Can you spare me an hour right now to come and see something special? Please say yes; I’m like a child with a new toy and desperate to show it off. And there isn’t anyone else I can ask.’
‘Well, if you’re scraping the barrel of social contacts that desperately, how could I say no?’
They took the footpath between Medlar House and the church, followed it up towards the woods where they left the path that was lined either side with a froth of cow parsley and entered the cool of the leafy shade.
‘The bluebells have all gone over,’ Owen said as they stood at the top of the rise, ‘but the wild garlic is still putting on a good show.’
Seeing the dense carpet of lacy white flowers laid out before her, Mia breathed in with pleasure the softly tangy air. ‘It’s lovely,’ she said quietly and then fell in step beside him as they descended the slope that was cushiony-soft under foot.
‘Any news from Jensen today on the cottage they’re hoping to rent?’ he asked. ‘Madison was so excited yesterday morning when she was telling me about it. I got the full story on the bedroom that would be hers and the garden where she’s going to have some hens. Did you know that she plans to bring me eggs in exchange for piano lessons?’
Mia laughed. ‘Yes, the dear girl has it all worked out. As for news, I haven’t heard anything from Jensen today, but hopefully that’s a good thing. I expect they’re busy organizing all the necessary references and giving notice on their flats in London. I still can’t believe they’re really doing it, though, moving to the village. It’s all happening so fast.’
He turned his head slightly towards her and with the dappled sunlight falling across his face, said, ‘Looks like all roads lead here right now. It must be fate.’
She smiled evasively and changed the subject. ‘It’s extremely kind of you to give Madison piano lessons. She says you’re very patient with her, and that you play brilliantly.’
‘Not brilliantly, not by any stretch of the imagination.’
When they reached the boundary of his land, there was a person-sized gap in the hedge and Owen guided her through. With her back to the wood, she faced the lake and watched a pair of swallows swoop in the clear blue sky. She listened to the sound of sweet birdsong and the faraway call of a cuckoo and experienced the heady sensation of having escaped into another world. It was a bittersweet feeling and one that made her chest tighten with myriad emotions.
‘Right,’ he said, ‘if you feel you can trust me, I’d like you to close your eyes and only open them when I say you can.’
Wanting to prove that she did trust him, she did as he said and allowed him to lead her by the hand. ‘No cheating,’ he said, as if reading her mind when she was tempted to take a sneaky peep. ‘Just a few more steps to go.’
‘You’re not going to push me in the lake, are you?’ she asked as she cautiously made her way over the uneven ground.
‘As if I’d be so ungentlemanly.’
They came to a stop.
‘You can open your eyes now.’
She blinked in the brightness of the sun. Then she saw it. ‘
Wow!
’ she said. ‘That’s quite something.’
‘You approve?’
She smiled. ‘Very much so. But it’s so much more than a summerhouse. It’s . . . it’s, I don’t know what to call it.’
‘According to the manufacturer, it’s a pavilion, which sounds ridiculously pretentious and grandiose, doesn’t it?’
‘Not at all. Is this what Joe’s been helping you with?’
‘Yes, he’s done a fantastic job. We finished it last night.’
‘You helped build it?’
He laughed. ‘I wouldn’t go so far as to use the word “build” in relation to my input. I basically did what I was told, fetching and carrying and following very precise and very simple instructions. Would you like to take a closer look?’
He rowed them across the lake, the golden June sunlight bouncing off the water and dazzling Mia’s eyes. They were greeted at the island by none other than Putin, who shattered the still air with one of his notorious shrieks.
‘What are you doing here?’ Owen asked the peacock as he stepped out of the boat and tied the rope around the remains of a chopped-down tree. ‘I thought I told you this was private property? Now
scram!
’ Putin stared back at Owen with a look of total disdain, making Mia laugh.
‘Do you always talk to him like that?’ she said.
‘I hate to admit it, but yes. In return he tries to intimidate me with an evil-eye stare. Give me your hand.’
She did as he said, but the boat gave a disconcerting wobble as she placed one foot on the dry hard ground and with her weight caught between the two, the boat began to slide away from the bank. She let out a startled cry and immediately Owen’s arms were around her and clasping her tightly. ‘I’m not normally so clumsily inept,’ she said, embarrassed.
‘You landlubbers are all the same,’ he said casually.
But there was nothing casual about the way he was staring at her, or the way he was making no attempt to release her. The very air between them seemed to vibrate with tension and she felt a flash of alarm as her body sparked with the impulse to do something very wrong. Oh God, make him let go of me, she thought. Because right now, she was incapable of doing anything other than staying locked in his embrace.
As if reprimanding them, Putin let out a deafening shriek and they both jumped and then laughed; the moment diffused. Letting go of her, Owen bent down to the water’s edge and pulled on a length of string that was tied to a tree root. ‘Would you join me in christening my new hideaway with a glass of wine?’ he asked, retrieving a bucket containing a bottle of Sancerre that had been cooling in the water.
‘How very organized you are.’
‘Wait till you see just how organized.’
He led the way and through the open doors of the pavilion she saw that it was furnished with a pair of Lloyd Loom chairs, complete with cushions. In front of the chairs was a table and on it were glasses and a wicker picnic hamper. He caught her looking at the table. ‘I know what you’re thinking,’ he said, taking a towel from the hamper and drying the bottle.
‘You do?’
‘That this all seems overly presumptuous, that I was arrogantly cocksure of myself that you’d come.’
‘And were you?’