Chapter 4 #3
There was a silence when he thought she might do precisely that. Those lavender-blue eyes considered him thoroughly. The hiker had turned away, grumbling about entitled business types who thought they could push in. Owen scarcely heard him. All his attention was on her.
Then: ‘You’re welcome,’ she said. She smiled and Owen was lost.
* * *
Jenna
I know you.
It had been Jenna’s first thought when she had seen him across the café, and it was the strangest sensation, a peculiar jolt of recognition inside, in the place where she kept the secret of her past life, and her memories of Marris and her love for William Sharington.
This man was not Will – he didn’t look particularly like him, though there was a resemblance in their height and breadth of shoulder.
He was not Will, in the same sense that she was not Marris, and yet she knew him.
He felt both familiar and yet different, reassuring and yet exciting. The sensation made her head spin.
She tried not to stare. He had night-black hair, thoughtful grey eyes and a face that looked like one of the avenging angels from the priory choir stalls, all sharply carved cheekbones and firm jawline.
He looked a little out of place in the barn café amongst couples in outdoor gear and parents with toddlers in pushchairs, as he was wearing a well-cut grey business suit and white shirt, albeit without a tie.
She also noticed that he was, to use one of Molly’s favourite teenage phrases ‘a total smoke show’.
Jenna swallowed hard. The sense of attraction was absolute – and frightening in its certainty.
She knew she had to pull herself together quickly.
Despite her experience of precognition, she’d never really bought into the idea of soulmates through time.
It had seemed far more likely to her that you went through life alone and were fortunate if you formed a deep connection with someone during that time.
In thirty years, she’d never met anyone with whom she’d felt a deep sense of affinity, no one who could match that fierce spark Marris had experienced with Will.
And now a stranger had walked in and all her certainties had been overturned.
It had to be an illusion. They had not even spoken…
She caught his gaze on her and realised that for all her good intentions, she had been staring whilst all these thoughts raced through her mind.
For a moment something gleamed in his eyes that looked like an equal sense of shock and recognition, then he had turned away to take his turn at the till.
Jenna reached for her cup of cappuccino with a hand that trembled a little.
She needed to compose herself and get over that weird moment of rapport.
She wanted to believe that it had been imaginary, perhaps brought on by coming back to Winterhill and the unwelcome discovery of the archaeological dig, which had thrown all her thoughts into turmoil.
To consider the alternative – that this was Will come back to her – was too huge even to contemplate.
The café had been almost empty when Jenna had arrived.
She had chosen her drink and a slice of fruit shortbread and hidden in the corner beneath beams that were decorated with twinkling lights and wildflower garlands.
It was warm and peaceful and as she had uncoiled the scarf from about her neck and discarded her hat and coat, she could feel herself start to relax a little.
The conversation with Bree had ended with them agreeing to meet up the following week.
‘Stop worrying,’ Bree had told her. ‘No one is going to dig up any secrets between now and then.’
Jenna smiled wryly. One characteristic Bree had possessed in both her lives was her single-mindedness. You could tell her that the sky was falling but if she was reading or painting or engrossed in some other project, she would dismiss it until a more convenient time…
Yet her sister was right. There was no immediate need to panic. They simply needed a plan. And she needed another coffee, and perhaps a sandwich… She would wait, however, until it was a bit less busy and the hot guy had gone…
Jenna picked up the flyer about the archaeological excavations again.
It was a smartly presented leaflet combining an outline of the project with a fundraising appeal.
She took out her phone and signed up to be on the mailing list so she could be kept in the loop, then looked up again sharply as a figure appeared next to her table.
‘May I?’ It was the guy in the suit. He was carrying a tray laden with coffee, a sandwich and piece of cake, and was looking at her very hopefully as he slid into the chair opposite hers.
‘I hope you don’t mind,’ he added, just as Jenna was thinking he could at least have waited for her to agree. But then she spotted the burly hiker barging through, using his rucksack like a weapon. She smiled spontaneously.
‘You’re welcome,’ she said.
He smiled back and relaxed in the seat.
‘Thanks,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry to bother you, but there are no other spaces.’ His voice was very nice, deep and smooth. Jenna shifted a little. At close quarters the sense of recognition she felt for him was disturbingly strong. She reminded herself to act normally.
‘No problem,’ she said briskly. She moved her cup and plate a precise two inches to the left in order to give him space for the tray.
He unpacked it economically and drew his wooden armchair closer to the table.
It was a squeeze for him as space was limited and he was tall, but he managed it with grace.
Hastily Jenna picked up her guidebook to deter any further interaction.
She needed a bit of time to get her feelings under control.
‘Is it your first visit to the priory?’ He was unwrapping the egg mayonnaise sandwich.
He looked up to meet her eyes. His were an interesting shade of grey and held a friendly smile.
Jenna thought that either he was not good at reading body language, which seemed unlikely, or she needed to practise her ‘leave me alone’ vibe.
On the other hand, it seemed that he wasn’t troubled by any sense of recognition on seeing her, which was reassuring in one sense.
The attraction must all be on her side, based on an imagined link to the past. She felt relieved. And disappointed.
‘It’s my first visit for a very long time,’ she said, after a moment. ‘I grew up around here, but haven’t been back to the priory for quite a while.’
‘Has it changed much?’ He was obviously enjoying the sandwich. It looked very tasty. And he sounded genuinely interested in her reply to his question. Jenna could feel herself hesitating on the edge of engaging with him.
‘Yes,’ she said, after a moment. ‘It’s changed almost out of recognition since I first saw it. But then places do, don’t they? Walls fall down, trees grow, other buildings crowd in, gardens are landscaped and rivers change course. Nowhere stays the same for long.’
She could see he had not expected an answer like that. His eyes widened and he stared at her for a long moment, and then he laughed.
‘That’s the opposite of what the guidebook promises you,’ he said. He pointed to the words ‘Winterhill Priory and Hall’ in gold script on the cover and beneath them, the phrase: ‘Timeless magic’.
Jenna smiled wryly. ‘They’re selling visitors an idea of history,’ she said, ‘telling people what they want to hear.’ She drained her coffee dregs and looked around for a waitress so that she could get a refill.
It was impossible to squeeze out of her corner now.
‘Visitors come to historic sites for the atmospheric setting and a sense of stepping back through time,’ she added.
‘I doubt they come here wanting to be told that actually someone’s built a car park on top of the chapter house or that most of the manor is an early twentieth-century rebuild. ’
He inclined his head in acknowledgement. ‘Are you a historian?’ he asked. ‘You sound very knowledgeable.’
‘No,’ Jenna said, ‘I’m a bookseller, actually. But I have a… passing interest in history.’
He nodded, then gestured to her empty cup. ‘Would you like another coffee? I’m happy to fetch one for you since you’re stuck in that corner.’
Jenna was impressed that he was so observant. ‘That’s very kind of you,’ she said. She took out her purse and extracted a ten-pound note. ‘Actually, I’d love another cappuccino… And a sandwich, if that’s okay. Yours looks delicious.’
He smiled. ‘No problem.’ He took the cash and made his way over to the counter, where the queue had subsided somewhat.
Jenna took the opportunity to take a few steadying breaths.
Everything was fine. She was having a cup of coffee in a café with a man who was a pleasant stranger, not the reincarnation of a long-lost love.
It would all be over in ten minutes and she could go back to thinking about how to prevent the archaeologists from excavating the lady chapel…
‘I snagged the last egg and cress sandwich for you.’ He sounded pleased with himself as he put the tray down in front of her. His fingers brushed her palm as he passed her the change. Jenna tried to ignore the tingle it gave her.
‘Thanks,’ she said. ‘I appreciate it.’
He slid back into his seat. ‘Just in case you don’t accept sandwiches from strangers, my name is Owen. Owen Power.’
‘Jenna Bergin.’ A little silence fell. After a moment Jenna started to feel slightly awkward. They’d exchanged names and now they had nothing to say to each other. She cleared her throat.
‘So, um, Owen—’ She wished small talk came easily to her. ‘Are you also here for the timeless magic of the hall and priory?’