Chapter 22
‘…and Reuben has identified several endangered species of plants and insects, and he’s shown me some weasel droppings.’ Molly knew she was prattling but the atmosphere in the cottage was so tense lately you could cut it with a knife and spread it on toast.
Jack had a face like a slapped arse, as Granny would say, and Molly wondered whether things were OK between him and Chantelle. She didn’t think he’d been to work today either, because when she’d taken the opportunity to pop home lunchtime to let Jet out for a wee, she’d found Jack in the living room, watching TV.
Rather than ask him outright why he wasn’t at work (it wasn’t any of her business anyway), she’d started to prattle, and once she’d started, she couldn’t seem to stop.
‘You ought to see the woods now,’ she continued. ‘Reuben has done a brilliant job. He would have done more, but he’s had a lot of work on. Did I tell you he’s a carpenter?’
Jack shrugged without looking at her.
‘I’m sure I did. Anyway, I think we’ll get started on the pond next. See if we can find any of those great crested newts he was talking about.’ Damn! She hadn’t wanted to mention those, not until one put in an appearance. If one ever did…
Finally reining in her wayward mouth and hoping that Jack had been listening as little as he’d appeared to be, she said, ‘I was cooking on making steak and chips for tea. Would you like some?’
They still ate the occasional meal together, purely for convenience, but not as often as they used to. It was becoming more and more usual for him to claim that he had eaten a substantial meal at work, so she should go ahead and cook for herself. Which led her to wonder who he was eating that meal with.
He still didn’t go out much in the evenings, though, which she assumed he might have done if he was back with Chantelle.
Gah! Who knew what was going on! Molly certainly didn’t.
What she did know, was that Jack no longer seemed interested in the park. Gone were the long conversations on what needed improving and how they were going to do it. Gone were the planning sessions. Gone was the working together side-by-side, although Jack still did his fair share – enough to fulfil his end of the rental agreement. He continued to make-over the flower beds, and he carried on locking the park gates at night. But he seemed to have lost his enthusiasm for the job. He was just going through the motions, and it saddened Molly to see it.
‘No thanks,’ he said, in answer to her question. ‘I’m going out soon and I probably won’t be back until later. You go ahead: I’ll sort myself out if I’m hungry.’
‘I see. OK. It’s just you and me,’ she said to Jet, tears pricking at the back of her eyes.
Maybe it was time for Jack to move out: she couldn’t take much more of this polite professional treatment.
‘Have I done anything to upset you?’ she blurted, then clapped a hand to her mouth. God knows where that came from. She’d had no intention of saying any such thing.
‘Not at all.’ He sounded mildly surprised.
She’d said it now and couldn’t take it back, so she might as well pursue it, get it out in the open so to speak, because something was definitely wrong.
‘What is it, then?’ she persisted. ‘You’re not the same Jack you were a couple of weeks ago.’
Molly tried to think back to what might have changed, but nothing jumped out at her. Except… maybe he hadn’t been as oblivious to her flirting as she had presumed, and this was his way of telling her that he wasn’t interested without embarrassing her by actually saying anything.
Her face flamed and she wished she’d never started this flippin’ conversation.
After a long pause where she thought he was about to tell her he was flattered by her interest and that she would make some lucky guy a wonderful girlfriend, but he didn’t think of her like that, he eventually said, ‘It’s a work thing.’
‘Work?’ she repeated in surprise.
‘Yeah.’
‘Want to talk about it?’
‘Not really.’
Molly bit her lip and stared at her hands.
‘It’s just… There’s talk of a restructure of some of the departments and everyone’s having their jobs evaluated, so the atmosphere isn’t brilliant,’ he explained, filling the silence.
‘Your job is safe though?’
He shrugged. ‘No safer than anyone else’s.’
Oh dear, no wonder he seemed distant and preoccupied – here he was, worried about his job, and all she could do was prattle on about weasels. It might also explain why he had been so delighted when she’d told him he’d had an offer on his house – he might well need the money.
‘I’m sure you’ll be OK,’ she said, but the expression on his face told her he wasn’t convinced, and when she put a reassuring hand on his arm, he flinched as though she had struck him.
‘Sorry,’ she muttered, heat whooshing into her cheeks at his reaction.
Without waiting for him to respond, she darted into the kitchen on the pretence of making a cup of tea before she had to go back to work.
By the time she had switched the kettle on and lifted a cup off the mug tree, he was gone. No goodbye, no see you later… just the sound of the front door closing and the waft of his aftershave in the air.
***
‘It’s so strange being back,’ Della said as she stood in the centre of the empty living room and gazed around. ‘We had such fun, didn’t we? Remember when I painted that wall and you said it looked grubby?’
‘What was that colour called?’
‘Mushroom Fizz.’
‘It was… er… how can I put this nicely… the colour of dishwater.’
Della giggled, and Jack smiled at the sound. Gosh, he had missed her!
‘Looking back, you were right – it was awful. But I thought we were being so stylish.’
He studied his sister as she wandered around the ground floor, running her fingers across the worktops in the kitchen and lowering the blind a fraction.
‘You’ve gone blonder,’ he observed. She was also glowing and looked happy and healthy – Alaska and Scott suited her.
‘I fancied a change,’ she said.
‘And you’ve let it grow.’
‘So have you! When was the last time you had a haircut?’
Jack ran a hand through his hair. ‘I’ve been too busy.’
‘Ah, yes, manpower in exchange for rent. How’s that going?’
‘The cottage is done. More or less. It needs new cabinets in the kitchen, and the bathroom suite is a hideous peach colour, but…’ He trailed off.
He wouldn’t be around to witness the installation of a new bath. As soon as his share of the money from the sale of this house was in his bank account, he would start looking for another place to live. He had been hoping to stay on in Molly’s cottage for a few more months so he could save most of his wages, but he couldn’t entertain the idea now, not with her so full of Reuben.
Take today, for instance: it had been Reuben this, and Reuben that. She had positively gushed, leaving Jack in no doubt she’d fallen for the guy big time.
And then she’d had the cheek to ask him what was wrong!
Jack gave himself a mental shake. He was being unfair: how was she supposed to know how he felt about her if he’d never told her? As far as she was concerned, they were only friends. If that. He still wasn’t convinced that she didn’t regard him as anything other than her lodger.
He was fully aware he had been distant of late, but he hadn’t expected her to quiz him about it, so when she’d asked, he had blurted out the first thing that had popped into his head.
It was true enough – he was worried about his job. Rumours were still flying thick and fast, but no one really knew what was going on. He was tempted to look around for another job, but he wanted to wait until he’d sorted out somewhere else to live first. He would have to apply for another mortgage if he intended to buy, and the mortgage company would want to know how long he’d worked for his current employer before they loaned him any money. Working for the council for nearly thirteen years looked good on paper. And a property rental company would also want to do employment checks – so he was stuck in this job for the time being.
‘Are you sure you don’t want to take me to see it? We could order food in rather than go to a restaurant. Or you could cook?’ Della was looking at him expectantly.
‘Another time,’ he said. ‘Assuming I’m still there. It’s only temporary,’ he reminded her. ‘Plus, Molly is at home and I don’t want to intrude.’
‘Surely she won’t mind you bringing your sister back for a couple of hours?’
‘She’s not well,’ he lied.
Della gave him an odd look, but to his relief she dropped the subject. ‘I think it’s time to go. Goodbye, house, it was fun living in you.’ She turned to him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. ‘Is it silly to feel like I’m giving away a family pet? I haven’t lived here for years, yet…’
‘Come here’ he said, opening his arms wide to give her a hug. ‘You’re not being daft at all. I feel the same way.’
‘Are you sure you don’t want to buy me out?’
‘Nah, it’s time to move on.’
‘Have you found anywhere yet?’
‘Not yet.’ He led her towards the door, and once outside he locked up carefully.
‘What sort of property are you looking for?’
Della continued to quiz him all the way to the restaurant, and the more vague his answers became, the more questions she asked until he cried, ‘Enough already! You sound like an estate agent. Pull into the car park here,’ he added.
‘This looks nice,’ Della said, gazing at the sign above the restaurant’s door. ‘The Anatolian Kitchen.’
‘It’s Turkish. It’s only been open a few months and I’ve heard it’s very good, but I haven’t tried it myself.’ He had a vision of Molly sitting opposite him as they were shown to a table, and he sadly shoved it away. This wasn’t the time to be thinking about her – he wanted to savour every second with his sister because he had no idea when he would see her again.
Over a bowl of olives and a starter of goats’ cheese wrapped in filo pastry, Della and Jack caught up on their news. Or rather, Della did most of the talking and Jack listened. But during the deliciously tasty main course of melt-in-the-mouth chicken shish (Della had the same), he was aware of her giving him concerned glances.
‘There’s something you’re not telling me,’ she said, scooping up a forkful of the fragrant lentils and rice, her eyes half closed in bliss. ‘Mmm, this is gorgeous.’
‘Isn’t it just.’ Jack speared a portion of chicken. ‘If I say “nothing”, will you believe me?’
‘Not a chance! Go on, spill, else I’ll tell Mum there’s something wrong and she’ll get it out of you.’
‘You wouldn’t!’ He thought for a second. ‘Yeah, you would.’
Della tilted her head, acknowledging the truth of it.
Jack put his fork down and clasped his hands together. ‘It’s a woman.’
‘I might have guessed! Not that awful Chantelle?’
‘Molly.’ Jack noticed the relieved expression on his sister’s face, but thought she wouldn’t be so pleased when he explained the situation. ‘I’m in love with her.’ His smile was sad.
‘And she doesn’t feel the same way?’ Della guessed.
He shook his head.
‘Oh, Jack… I’m sorry. It must make things very awkward.’
‘It would be even worse if she knew how I felt about her.’
‘You haven’t told her?’
‘What’s the point?’
‘Duh! Because she might like you, too? How do you know she doesn’t?’
‘She fancies Reuben.’
‘The volunteer guy?’
Jack nodded sadly.
Della stretched out her hand to cover his, giving him a squeeze, her eyes full of sympathy.
‘Finish your meal,’ he told her, and after squeezing his hand again, she resumed eating.
Jack’s appetite had deserted him, but he gamely picked up his fork, not wanting Della to worry, and changed the subject.
With neither of them able to manage a dessert and Della having a long drive ahead of her, they settled for Turkish tea and a tearful farewell.
‘Don’t leave it so long next time,’ Jack said, as they stood outside the restaurant. He pulled her into his arms and buried his face in her hair, his eyes and his heart full.
‘You’re going to have to come to Alaska,’ she urged. ‘A visit is long overdue. And I’m dying for you to meet Scott.’
‘He sounds like a top bloke, but tell him that if he doesn’t treat you right, he’ll have me to answer to.’
‘You always did look out for me,’ Della said, her voice thick with tears.
Jack pulled away so he could see her face, and he tenderly wiped her cheek. ‘And I always will,’ he promised. ‘No matter how far you go.’
She sniffed, her chin wobbling. ‘Stop it, you’re making me cry. And Jack, you will find someone,’ she assured him.
Jack couldn’t reply, because he already had found someone – it was just a shame she didn’t love him back.
***
‘Molly? Hi… I, er, hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I thought I’d better phone you straight away. I’ve just seen Jack and—’ Astrid paused then said, ‘I’m sorry.’
Molly guessed what was coming. ‘What’s happened?’
‘You know that new Turkish restaurant in town? I saw Jack coming out of it with a woman. They were all over each other.’
Molly’s blood turned to ice in her veins. So that was where he had gone – he’d had a date. ‘Do you know who this woman is? What did she look like?’
‘I only saw her from the back – she was too busy burying her face in his neck – but from what I could see, she was slim with long blond hair. A bit taller than you, but not as tall as Jack.’
‘It could be Chantelle. I don’t know how tall she is, but she’s got long blond hair.’
Astrid said, ‘I know I shouldn’t, but I took a photo. Do you want me to send it to you?’
Molly did – and she didn’t. It was one thing being told that Jack was all over a woman, and quite another seeing it for herself.
Curiosity got the better of her. ‘Send it,’ she confirmed.
A moment later, she was staring at it and wishing she wasn’t.
The woman had her back to the camera, but that wasn’t what caught Molly’s attention – it was the love on Jack’s face. He was gazing at Chantelle with an expression of utter devotion, and Molly felt like bawling.
Her instinct was right: he was still in love with Chantelle and from the way the pair of them were clinging together as though they never wanted to let go, Molly knew they were an item once more.
‘Thanks, Astrid,’ she said quietly.
‘Are you going to be OK?’
‘I’ll be fine,’ she said, knowing she wouldn’t be fine for a long time to come.
She was in love with Jack, but he was in love with someone else.
How could she ever be fine again?