Chapter 19
Jack straightened up and put the palm of his hands in the small of his back to ease the ache. He felt as though he’d been bending over for half the afternoon, but even if he had, the flower bed he and Molly had been working on had been worth it. It was totally transformed.
Only yesterday the edges had been undefined and it had been hard to tell where the grass ended and the flower bed began. Between them, he and Molly had sharpened the edges and removed all the weeds: to be honest, he thought they may have removed some perennials as well, but neither of them knew enough about plants to be confident that they hadn’t. They had also dug over all the exposed earth and had trimmed any straggly and overly-bushy bushes, before finally planting a carpet of small bedding plants. Some of them had already begun to flower, so clusters of pretty blooms were scattered throughout the beds.
All it needed was a good watering and they could call it a day.
Three flower beds done, about twenty to go.
Even now, six weeks since he had moved into the cottage in Sweet Meadow Park and a considerable amount of work later, he couldn’t believe how easily Molly had roped him into helping make her vision for the park become a reality.
She had been quite clever and rather ingenious in the way she’d gone about it, but he hadn’t minded. Once the interior of the cottage was done (as much as it could be when it still needed a new bathroom suite), and the gardens, front and back, had been mowed, weeded and pruned into submission, he supposed it was inevitable that Molly would give the park her full attention and persuade him to give her a hand.
It had started innocently enough, with him accompanying her on her morning walks as she collected up any rubbish from the day before. He could hardly stand by and watch, so he had joined in; the crunch time was when she’d presented him with his very own litter picker. At that point he’d guessed he didn’t have any option, other than to help.
Then had come the snippers. They were called secateurs, but Jack preferred the word ‘snippers’. On those evenings when he didn’t go for a run, he usually went out for a walk with Molly. One day Molly had produced a pair of snippers from her pocket with the same degree of flourish as a magician taking a rabbit out of a hat. When she’d told him why she was carrying them and what she had intended to do with them, he couldn’t in all conscience refuse to help with that, either.
Despite more thorns in his hands than he could shake a blackberry at, and more scratches than he cared to count, they had made some progress in clearing a path through the woodland. The only complaint he had was that if they happened not to do any snipping for a few days, the damned brambles grew back almost as densely as they had been at the start.
Jack hated brambles with all his heart.
Working on the flower beds had come about because of Teresa. Molly’s mum had arrived at the cottage one Saturday morning a couple of weeks ago, with tray after tray of tiny plants. She’d claimed to have grown them from seed for her own garden and had donated them to Molly, but the sheer number of seedlings hadn’t all fitted into the cottage’s garden, so Molly had innocently suggested popping a few of the baby plants into one of the flower beds in the park itself. And that, as they say, had been that.
Three flower beds later, and Molly wasn’t showing any signs of easing up on her project.
Jack had to admit that the main entrance to the park with its impressive wrought iron gates, was looking very welcoming now that the beds to either side were neat and tidy and were brimming with early summer blooms.
Of course, there was much more to do, but Jack had no doubt that Molly, with her determination and inability to take no for an answer, would get it done.
‘It looks good, doesn’t it?’ she asked, threading an arm through his.
A shot of desire stabbed him in the gut, as usual. Whenever they touched, he had the same reaction – longing, with the addition of a substantial amount of… Jack wasn’t sure what to call it. He was undeniably attracted to her – that went without saying – but what he felt for her was far more than pure lust. He looked forward to seeing her in the morning, he looked forward to seeing her when he came home from work. He looked forward to seeing her, full stop. She filled his mind when he wasn’t with her, and she filled his mind when he was. She was in his head, and no amount of wishing that she wasn’t, could budge her from there, leading him to suspect he might be half in love with her.
The past six weeks had been some of the happiest of his life. He should be feeling anxious – his job situation was the same as it had been when he’d first met Molly (although the letter that Chantelle had warned him about had yet to materialise), he still hadn’t had an offer on the house, and he still didn’t know where he was going to live long term. He was in a state of flux, and by rights he should be having a minor panic. Instead, he felt more contented than he had ever been. He could have told himself the reason was that he loved living in the cottage and he loved living in the park. He could also tell himself that he had fallen head over heels with a daft black hound. And although all that was true, it wasn’t the real reason.
The real reason was Molly.
‘Penny for them?’ she asked, nudging him.
‘Eh? Oh, sorry. Miles away. Yes, they do look good.’
His heart skipped a beat when she smiled up at him, and he ground his teeth together to stop himself from kissing her. She had the loveliest lips…
‘Shall I get us a drink, then we’ll clear up?’ She indicated the rake, spade, trowel and assorted implements they had used to smarten up the bed.
‘That would be lovely,’ he said, wincing as she gave his arm a squeeze before going back to the house. Every time they touched, bolts of electricity shot through him, and his whole arm continued to tingle for minutes after she’d released him.
He gathered everything together while he waited for her to return, and stowed it in the wheelbarrow.
‘Here you go.’ She handed him a glass of cold lemonade with ice.
‘Thanks.’ He took it from her, his fingers brushing against hers, and grimaced at the way his pulse soared.
How much longer could he go on like this?
‘Cheers!’ she said.
As their eyes met over the rim of their drinks, he was unable to look away, leaving it up to her to break the connection. As far as he was concerned, he would happily drown in her gaze for the rest of the day.
Molly, however, had no such inclination. She smiled at him and took a deep draft of her drink. ‘Ooh, I needed that. Gardening is thirsty work.’
‘It looks grand,’ a voice from behind said, and Molly turned around.
Jack continued to stare at the newly planted flower bed and tried to compose himself. It would do no one any good to let his feelings for her show. He was fairly certain she didn’t feel the same way, so there was no point in making things awkward between them.
‘Hi, Bill, how are you?’ Molly sounded pleased to see the old gent.
‘Not so bad. You’d better water them flowers.’
‘We intend to, as soon as we’ve tidied up.’
Bill sniffed. ‘Told you she would get you dancing to her tune.’ This was addressed to Jack.
Not to be rude, Jack smiled. ‘You certainly did.’ He couldn’t recall the old man saying any such thing. ‘Molly, I’ll take this lot back to the shed—’ Jack pointed to the wheelbarrow ‘—while you have a chat with Bill.’
He left them to it and wheeled the barrow around the side of the cottage. As he put the tools back where they belonged, he thought about what Bill had said and realised how accurate it was – he most definitely did dance to Molly’s tune, and he didn’t begrudge her a single step.
More fool him.
***
‘Drink up and I’ll get us another.’ Astrid downed her vodka and grapefruit juice and waited for Molly to finish her gin and ginger beer.
‘Same again, please,’ she said. ‘Lashings of ginger beer, this time. I don’t want to go home drunk.’
‘Why? Worried you might lose control and jump Jack’s bones?’ Astrid teased.
‘Certainly not!’
‘I think the lady doth protest too much,’ Astrid chortled as she grabbed Molly’s empty glass and walked over to the bar.
She was still chortling when she returned with fresh drinks.
‘Stop it,’ Molly said crossly.
‘Because I’m right?’
‘No. Yes. I don’t know.’
‘I do. You’ve got the hots for him.’
‘Maybe I have, but he doesn’t feel the same way about me.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘As sure as I can be. I’ve been dropping hints for weeks, but he ignores them.’
‘They’re probably too subtle and are going straight over his head. You know what men are like – you’ve got to bash them on the bonce with it before they notice. Why don’t you make it clearer?’
‘How?’
‘What are you doing now?’
‘Sending him sultry looks, putting my arm through his, stroking his back when I walk past… That kind of thing.’
Astrid waved a hand in the air. ‘That’s no good. You’ve got to be more direct.’
‘Such as?’
‘Snog him.’
‘Like, walk up to him and just kiss him?’ Molly’s eyes widened.
‘Yep.’
‘Without any build up?’
‘You could try candlelight and wine, but I wouldn’t bother.’
‘But what if he doesn’t like me like that? Anyway, I think he’s still in love with his ex.’
‘He told you that, did he?’
‘No…’
‘Has he had any more phone calls from her?’
‘Not since the one I told you about. At least, not to my knowledge.’
Jack could be speaking to Chantelle several times a day for all she knew, but if he was, he hadn’t mentioned it. But then again, why would he? Molly was just his landlord. The fact that he was helping her around the park now that the cottage was finished was because he felt obliged to. Once or twice he had brought up the subject of paying her rent, but she’d told him not to be so silly. So of course he’d try to pay her in whatever currency he could, because he was that type of person. Over the weeks that he’d been sharing her house, she had come to know him, and her first impression of him being a jobsworth had long gone. She now understood he was operating under certain constraints, and that rules and regulations had to be adhered to. She also knew that if he could have helped in a formal council capacity, he would have.
‘Has he been seeing her?’ Astrid persisted.
‘I don’t know. I’m not with him every second of every day.’
‘Keep your hair on. Blinking heck, you have got it bad. I’ve never seen you like this.’
‘Sorry.’ Molly was contrite. Astrid was only trying to help, and here was Molly taking her frustration out on her friend.
‘What does he do in the evenings?’ Astrid asked, waving the apology away. ‘How often does he go out?’
‘Erm… now you come to mention it, apart from going for a run a few times a week, he doesn’t go out very often.’
‘Ah ha! That proves it.’
‘Proves what?’
‘That he can’t be seeing his ex.’
‘It doesn’t mean to say he’s not pining for her.’
‘True…’ Astrid ran her finger around the rim of her glass. ‘Why don’t you ask him?’
‘I don’t think that’s a good idea. We don’t have that kind of relationship.’
‘And you never will if you don’t pull your finger out,’ Astrid warned.
Molly knew that her friend was only trying to help, but there was no way she could ask Jack straight out how he felt about his ex, and she most definitely wouldn’t kiss him without any indication of whether he would appreciate it. He might be horrified. And even if he wasn’t, he still mightn’t like being leapt on by his landlord, and it might well sour their relationship. They were getting on brilliantly at the moment, so there was no point in rocking the boat.
No, she would leave things as they were, and carry on with her subtle hints and see if there was any response.
The last thing she wanted was to drive him away.
***
‘Did you have a good time?’ Jack asked as Molly walked into the living room. She was swaying a little, so he guessed she must have.
‘I did, thanks. It was good to catch up.’
‘You see Astrid every day at the office,’ Jack pointed out with a chuckle.
‘It’s not the same.’ She hiccupped loudly. ‘Oops!’
‘Come on, let’s get you to bed.’
‘Yes, please.’
Molly’s voice sounded odd – breathy and sultry – and he wondered how much she’d had to drink. She was certainly the worse for wear, and he thought how cute she was with her unfocused eyes and her hair all mussed up. She had a pouty smile on her lips, and it suddenly occurred to him she might not have met Astrid on her own. They might have had a double date.
Molly hadn’t mentioned a man, but it didn’t mean to say she hadn’t met up with one this evening, or she could have been chatted up by a guy when she had been in the pub. It would explain her strange demeanour.
Deflated, he took her elbow and guided her towards the stairs. ‘You need a couple of paracetamol, a pint of water, and a good long sleep. Do you need any help?’ he asked.
‘I can manage.’ It was her stock response, and her tone was abrupt – a distinct contrast to a minute ago.
She shook off his hand and he wondered what he’d done to upset her.
‘Molly… I…’ he began.
She paused, one hand on the doorframe, her expression wary.
He was close enough to kiss her, and he wished he had the courage, but he didn’t want to ruin what they had – they were good friends and if he made a move on her and she didn’t want to know, he would lose that. He would also have to leave because there was no way he could carry on living here after he’d made a fool of himself. Anyway, she was half-cut, and he wasn’t the type of bloke to take advantage of an inebriated woman.
Instead, he tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her shell-like ear, and stroked her soft cheek with the back of his hand. ‘Sleep tight.’
‘You, too.’
Then she was gone, and he was left listening to her footsteps on the floorboards above his head and wishing he hadn’t let her go.
***
Sleep was a long time coming. Jack tossed and turned, got up for a drink, then tossed and turned some more. He had gone to bed shortly after Molly, at around a quarter to eleven, and so he probably wasn’t particularly sleepy despite the gardening he’d done today.
He should have gone for a run this evening to help burn off some of his excess energy, but he’d stayed at home instead, wondering whether she was having a good time.
It seemed she’d had a very good time indeed…
He was still lying there, staring irritably at the ceiling, when he heard a noise coming from outside. It wasn’t the usual sound of kids messing about. The noise was closer for a start, and he guessed it wasn’t coming from the bandstand which was where the teenagers normally gathered in the evenings. Not only that, it was nearly midnight and the youths were generally long gone by now – probably because they had run out of booze and fags.
He could hear voices, but they were muffled, and there was a kind of scuffing sound. Having no idea what it could be, he slipped out of bed and walked over to the window. But before he could pull the curtain aside, a volley of barks from Molly’s bedroom made him jump.
‘Molly? Are you OK? Molly!’
She didn’t answer.
Jack raced across the landing and came to a skidding halt outside her door. Jet was still barking so perhaps she hadn’t been able to hear him above the noise the dog was making.
He called her name again, then knocked.
Still no response.
Bugger it – he was going in.
With his heart in his mouth, he turned the handle and pushed the door open. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting to see, but it certainly wasn’t the sight of Molly standing in front of the window, staring across the park.
And when she turned towards him and he saw the glistening track of tears on her cheeks, he was by her side in a trice.
‘What is it? What’s wrong?’ he cried, gathering her stiff body to him and holding her close. He could feel her trembling and he wondered what could have upset her so badly.
‘Look.’ She pointed through the window.
It took him a moment to understand what he was looking at, and when he did white-hot anger surged through him.
Those little scroats had only gone and torn up the bushes and plants in the newly-created flower beds.
With a muffled oath, Jack released Molly, charged out of the bedroom and down the stairs, taking them two at a time. He was out of the door and racing down the drive before he realised he didn’t have anything on his feet and was only wearing pyjama bottoms.
He didn’t care. He was far too concerned with catching those responsible: he could see the horrible little gits haring through the gate and tearing off down the road.
Jack realised he didn’t have a hope in hell of catching them, and cursed himself for not taking the time to jam his feet into his trainers. If he’d have been wearing those he would have caught them without any trouble and—
And what?
With a heavy heart, he checked the damage.
It was difficult to see the full extent of it in the dark, but he was fairly certain many of the plants that they had put in over the past few days had been pulled up and flung across the path. The remainder of the bedding plants had been trampled, as had some of the well-established bushes. Several had stems and branches missing, which were also strewn across the ground.
From what he could see, Jack thought the flower beds he and Molly had so painstakingly tended, looked worse now than they had originally.
It was a heart-breaking blow and a kick in the teeth for all their hard work.
Sadly, Jack turned his back on the mess and went inside to comfort Molly.
***
Molly didn’t need comforting, Jack soon discovered. Molly was furious.
What Molly wanted was vengeance, but she wasn’t going to get it.
When Jack returned to the cottage, it was to find her pacing the living room, Jet at her heels (thankfully the dog had stayed inside), ranting about what she would do to the little darlings when she got her hands on them.
The tears of earlier, Jack soon discovered, hadn’t been tears of sadness: they had been tears of anger. Molly was absolutely fuming, and Jack didn’t blame her. He was mad, too.
All that hard work, and nothing to show for it.
‘They don’t deserve to have anything nice,’ Molly cried. ‘They’ve got no respect for anything. All they want to do is to destroy things. I’ve seen better-behaved chimps in the zoo! And where are their parents, that’s what I want to know. Those kids should be home in bed, not wandering the streets at midnight. Goodness knows what other mischief they’ve got up to. And people wonder why crime rates are soaring! Maybe they should look closer to home and check on what their offspring are doing.’
Jack agreed. This was one of the reasons why he hadn’t felt able to commit council funds to restoring Sweet Meadow Park, but now wasn’t the best time to remind Molly of that. He was gutted that she had to find out for herself. He had been hoping to have been proven wrong for once.
‘That’s it – I’m done!’ she announced. ‘I’ve given it my best shot, but if nobody appreciates it, I don’t know why I bother.’
‘I appreciate it,’ Jack said softly.
‘If people want an eyesore of a park, then they can have one. As long as they stay away from my cottage that’s all—’ She stopped. ‘Pardon?’
‘I appreciate it,’ he repeated, then his heart melted as her face crumpled.
Molly sank to her knees and sat on the floor, and this time her tears reflected misery instead of anger.
Jack sat down next to her and put his arms around her shoulders, letting her cry as he stroked her hair. Her head was on his bare chest and tears trickled down his stomach, and only when her sobs finally turned into hiccupping snivels did she pull away.
‘I’m sorry,’ she sniffed, trying to wipe the dampness from his skin with the sleeve of her pyjamas.
‘There’s nothing to be sorry for.’
‘But all that work and me making you help...’ She trailed off.
‘You didn’t make me,’ he told her. ‘I did it because I wanted to. Helping in the park was never part of our rental agreement.’
Molly sniffed loudly. ‘I expect you’ll want to move out now. I would if I could, but who would want to live in a place like this? Who would want to buy it?’
‘I still want to live here. And I believe you do, too.’
Molly shrugged, then sat up straighter. ‘I don’t know what I want,’ she admitted. ‘I thought I did – but I was being na?ve in thinking if people saw how nice it could be, they would respect it and care for it. How stupid.’
‘It’s not stupid. You want to see the best in people, that’s all. And you want what’s best for the park.’
‘What I want and what I’m going to get, isn’t necessarily the same thing.’ Her gaze was candid.
‘It still could be.’
‘How?’
‘We can’t turn the park around on our own – it’s too big a job for two people. We need an army.’ Bill had said the very same thing, and he had been right.
‘An army?’ Molly was looking at him like he’d lost his mind.
‘I think we ought to ask for volunteers. Besides, the more people from the community who are willing to help, the more the word will get out that people care about the park, and maybe there will be an end to this senseless vandalism. After all, the park is a community space, it should be up to the community to look after it.’
‘That’s a brilliant idea! Why didn’t I think of that? I could kiss you.’
‘There’s something else,’ he said, before she got carried away. He blew out his cheeks. He knew that what he was about to do was wrong and he could land himself in a whole heap of trouble for doing it, but if Molly was to carry on with her vision for the park, it would have to be done. ‘I’m going to lock the park gates between the hours of eight in the evening and six in the morning.’
‘I don’t understand. The gates are already locked – all the time.’
‘I’m not talking about the big ones; I mean the small ones. There are five around the perimeter. I’m going to lock them all, starting with right now.’
Molly’s eyes were wide. ‘Can you do that?’
‘The keys to all the gates are on the big key ring in the pantry.’
‘I wondered what they were for.’
Jack looked away. Thankfully Molly hadn’t asked the right question. It wasn’t a case of could he lock the gates, rather, was he allowed. Probably not, but as the Parks and Highways Officer he would take his chance. After all, if anyone objected, the complaint would land on his desk.
‘You’d do that for me?’ The look in Molly’s eyes took his breath away.
‘For you, and for the park,’ he said softly.
Their faces were centimetres apart. He could feel her gentle breath on his cheek. Their knees were touching, and the heat of her nearness made him weak with longing.
If he leant a fraction closer, his lips would be on hers and he’d be able to taste her…
Abruptly, Jack got to his feet. ‘I’d better make a start,’ he said. ‘Those gates won’t lock themselves.’
He was as aware of her gaze as he would have been had she touched him. It was as much of a physical caress as when he had stroked her cheek earlier. He could feel the weight of it, dragging him back down, and he would have loved nothing better than to join her on the floor and kiss her until morning.
But just as he didn’t want to take advantage of her when she’d had too much to drink, neither would he attempt to kiss her when she was so upset.
He would give it a few days, let the dust settle so to speak, and after that, if the opportunity arose, he’d seize it with both hands.