Wild About You

Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

I decided to deal with my difficult emotions by attacking the preparation of the site at Belheddonbrae like a demon, alongside a (bemused) set of volunteers. Together we took up the patchy grass of the lawn, working by hand with spades and rakes. That week we managed to reveal the subsoil, and I’d taken to getting up extra early to weed the ground, working on a square metre per morning.

After a day or so of fresh air, I decided it would be mature of me to speak to Sean rather than avoiding his messages forever. He called on my landline and we had ninety seconds of stilted conversation, before he admitted he wanted one of his CDs back, and asked whether he could buy it using my Amazon account, because he still had the password (classy). I agreed, and the conversation ended. When I hung up the phone I didn’t feel as desolate as I thought I would.

The thing was, I was getting used to Stonemore. After the anonymity of London, it was strange to live somewhere where the local grocer said, ‘You’re wearing that nice green coat again.’ The fact that she knew my name, let alone noticed what I was wearing, seemed mind-boggling. It also helped that the village was so picturesque: quaint, grey stone cottages clustered around the river, with a local grocer, baker and post office where people gathered to chat – and of course, the Rising Sun pub. Everyone knew everyone.

I admit, the first time my neighbour (from across the field) said ‘You were up late last night,’ it seemed really weird that they’d noticed the time they saw a light on in my bedroom window. But, nosiness aside, it was also the kind of place where, if you were running for a train, the guard would patiently hold it for you – and no one would mutter and look at their watch when you got on. I hadn’t really believed places like this existed, but when I witnessed it I felt a rush of goodwill and affection.

The cottage was already starting to feel more like home; I’d got used to its Gothic character and its one-up/one-down layout. I’d learned the creaks in the stairs, the knack of getting the shower in the tiny bathroom extension to produce hot water for thirty seconds, and I’d even started giving the mice names (they all looked identical, but it felt better to shout ‘Shut up, Gerald’ in the direction of the attic at midnight rather than quaking at the sound of them skittering across the upper floor). I didn’t hear them as much as before, because for the first time in years I was sleeping soundly, from the fresh air and hard physical work.

There’d even been a ceasefire with Tally, who had grudgingly accepted I wasn’t ‘too annoying, for a Londoner’. I’d started baking treats for the office, and always did an extra batch for Keith and Mica. Despite having been at Stonemore for decades, they had embraced my schemes with enthusiasm, and organised their team of volunteers and students to do my bidding with such kindness and lack of drama that I felt I should start worshipping them as deities. I was heaving an enormous bag of flour onto the counter to make a batch of scones for Mica when my phone chimed.

Any excuse not to begin the terrifying process of scone-making, so I went to my phone. It was a message from Tally on the work group chat.

4got to tell you @anna, the WI called, they kindly requested that you give them a presentation on wildflower meadows at their mtg next wk .

Plink.

I would advise you to accept .

Plink.

It is important for the reputation of Stonemore. Over and out .

I went back to the scone-making. Although giving a PowerPoint presentation to the Women’s Institute in a draughty church hall on a weekday evening wasn’t exactly my idea of fun, I’d had far tougher crowds. As I kneaded the dough, I remembered a conference paper I’d given two years before, with 500 delegates watching. Me: shiny, smiley, new engagement ring sparkling on my finger, manicure, sharp suit, not a hair out of place. The Anna that said yes to things. An entirely different person. So cheerful, so sure of what the future held: a houseful of children, a happy marriage, a successful career. Not baking scones for an empty house dressed in old jeans, a fleece, and with a dozen mice checking their watches upstairs to see if it was time for them to start dancing around the house and disturbing my evening.

The books all told me I should journal my feelings and face them, but for the last week or so I’d pressed pause on it, because it seemed to send me down a rabbit hole. I was happier rubbing butter into flour and mainlining podcasts; watching Forestcam and trying to forget that the only thing my ex wanted to talk to me about was not the fact that he missed the smell of my neck (I missed his) but that his Stormzy CD was missing. The only bright spot was the cheerful, buzzy feeling I had when I spoke to Callum, when he smiled at me in that twinkly way he had. And it was fine – I was not in the market for a new relationship. But a tiny flirtation couldn’t hurt, could it?

Stonemore Church Hall on a Monday evening was a surprisingly intimidating prospect once I got there. There were many more women than I had thought would attend, and although lots of them were smiling and chatting, a few were gazing at me with stony expressions as I set up my laptop with the projector.

‘I hear she’s some kind of environmentalist,’ one woman, wearing pearls and a pale pink twinset, said rather too loudly to another. ‘She’s probably involved with that Just Stop Oil lunacy.’ My smile fixed, rictus-like, on my face. Great , I thought, time to be inspected and found wanting . I’d told myself these would just be normal, friendly people, but here I was with a woman looking me up and down as though I’d wandered in for the free cake. At least I was wearing smart clothes and had made an effort with my make-up. Lump in my throat, check. Dry mouth, check . Kate, the lady who’d invited me, was flitting about, smiling and talking to people.

I went over and tapped her on the shoulder. ‘I’m just going to pop out for a breath of air,’ I said. ‘Won’t be a minute.’

She smiled and nodded, then carried on talking. I made my way out past more curious faces and emerged from the door of the hall, facing onto the main street of the village, the hills beyond. I’d hoped for a glimpse of the Stonemore hills, but of course it was a dark winter evening, so I only caught the faintest outline of them. Still, the air was cold and clear and it was good to be on my own.

I’d taken a few shuddering breaths when I became aware of two figures crossing the road and coming towards me.

No.

Please, no.

Callum and Jamie.

‘What are you two troublemakers doing here?’ I said, as cheerfully as I could, hearing the slight note of hysteria in my voice.

‘I heard there’s a presentation on wildflowers here tonight,’ said Jamie. Was that a very slight flicker of a smile on his face? Then I realised it was the poor light and I was imagining it.

Callum was standing, looking diffident, a faint, shy smile on his face. ‘We’re just moral support,’ he said.

‘We’ll try and stay awake,’ said Jamie, sweeping past.

‘Er, thanks,’ I said.

After they’d gone in, I took a few more deep breaths and gave myself a silent pep talk: You’ve got this. No problem. Perspective: in 100 years we’ll all be dead . When I walked back inside, smile pinned to my face, it felt as though everyone could see my nerves, and yet I also felt a spark of defiance, a distinct take your best shot feeling towards anyone who was looking down their nose at me.

I allowed the smile to drop. I’d read once if you looked really miserable at the beginning of a presentation, then smiled five minutes in, you’d have an audience eating out the palm of your hand.

Kate stood up and gave a short introduction whilst I stood behind her, gimlet-eyed. I looked at my hands: my short nails, scrubbed free from dirt after an afternoon of weeding, painted with a bright orange varnish that I’d dug out from the bottom of my make-up bag. Battle paint. Then Kate turned the lights out and my first slide sprang into view. My mouth felt like sandpaper. I took a swig of water. As I opened my mouth to speak, for a moment this all felt impossible: the last year, every loss and failure that had brought me here, waiting to leap out of the corners of the room.

‘Good evening everyone, my name is Anna Whitlock and I am the rewilding manager for Stonemore Estate. This evening I’m going to be talking to you about wildflower meadows, both as aesthetically beautiful sites in the landscape, but also as diverse habitats, capable of enriching and assisting conservation areas in a variety of ways. Particularly important since the UK has lost 97 per cent of its wildflower meadows since the Second World War.’

My voice echoed out into the darkness: strong, confident, no hint of hesitation. Somehow I’d clicked into the part of my brain that could perform.

All of my preparation paid off. I paced myself, moving smoothly through the slides. Once or twice I dried up, but my experience told me to carry on boldly and I did. Occasionally I allowed myself a glance at the audience – a risky strategy – but I saw enough to show me that most of them were interested and concentrating, the bright colours of my slides lighting up their attentive faces. Just once I caught lady-with-pearls rolling her eyes, but I filed that and carried on. And mercifully, I couldn’t see Jamie or Callum – they were sitting in the back row, and once the lights went out they were lost in the darkness.

‘Thank you.’ I concluded my talk and was gratified to hear a healthy round of applause as the lights came back on. Kate rushed up, her face wreathed in smiles, and gave a brief thank you speech before opening the floor for questions. Hands shot up. Possibly the most enthusiastic audience I’d ever had – who knew? Perhaps I should have run away from London earlier.

‘Could you talk a little more about the red deadnettle?’ asked one nervous, sweet voice. ‘And show the picture again? I think I’ve got it in my garden.’

Most of the questions were like this: well intentioned, kindly meant, easily answered. I noticed that lady-with-pearls was putting her hand up again and again, but not being chosen by Kate. Eventually she was the last woman standing and cleared her throat loudly.

I heard Kate give a tiny sigh. ‘Clarissa,’ she said.

‘Thank you, Katherine.’ The woman’s accent was as cut-glass as I remembered, and she rose to her feet in a stately fashion. ‘An interesting presentation, Ms Whitlock. But I have no idea what relevance it has to the Stonemore Estate, which already has vast tracts of wild land.’

The audience turned their eyes upon me. I smiled. ‘An excellent question.’ I ignored the fact she hadn’t asked a question. ‘But perhaps the land you see as wild, isn’t quite as wild as you think. There is, certainly, a small amount of ancient woodland on the estate. That needs careful management to ensure that it survives and flourishes. But let me be clear: I am not advocating stripping away what we currently have, and aggressive replanting. What we are aiming for is a careful process of gently managed natural regeneration. And the development of a richer ecosystem which will benefit the whole estate. Furthermore—’

‘Yes, yes, yes.’ The woman flapped her hands and gave a laugh. ‘I heard you were some kind of environmental person. It all sounds like the emperor’s new clothes a little though, my dear, doesn’t it?’

I persevered. ‘Not at all. It’s a critical time for the healthy future of the estate—’

‘Yes, yes, yes…’ This seemed to be her standard response to me. ‘We must let the gentlemen have their fads, dear, mustn’t we? And if we profit from it, that doesn’t hurt either.’ She gave me a sly smile, as though we secretly understood each other.

I converted my expression from one of friendly openness to stony puzzlement. Not a stretch, I can tell you. ‘I’m sorry,’ I managed in a frostily polite tone. ‘I have no idea what you mean.’

‘Our earl,’ said Clarissa slowly, as if I was stupid. A small ripple moved through the room, as the half of the audience which knew Jamie was there attempted to communicate with the less aware half. Which obviously included Clarissa.

Unfortunately for her, she seemed to take the ripple as agreement rather than warning, and built up some momentum.

‘You’re a very pretty manifestation of his latest fad,’ she said, her eyes glowing with malicious merriment. ‘But I can assure you he will be moving on very soon. I have rather more insight into his character than you do, dear.’

‘How interesting, Clarissa.’ Jamie’s voice boomed out suddenly. He got slowly to his feet, and smiled to the audience. Not the sweet smile I’d seen him give Hugo; something rather more steely. ‘I would be fascinated to hear these insights. Perhaps you wouldn’t mind sharing them?’

I had to give it to her; she kept her pale, perfectly made-up face completely still. Only her eyes looked wild, like a pony that might be about to kick. ‘My lord,’ she said. ‘I had no idea you were there.’

‘Evidently.’ He continued to smile. ‘Perhaps everyone could discuss your opinions over tea and cake? I’m sure we’re all interested in your study of my character.’

Another disturbed ripple, although I detected definite signs of glee in the faces of those nearest to me. The audience had got more than they bargained for: wildflower meadows plus drama and then some. Those who’d stayed at home would live to regret missing this legendary evening.

Clarissa had temporarily lost the power of speech. In London, someone would have been recording her on a mobile phone. Here, everyone was trying to forge every detail into their memories, for further embellishment later.

‘Thank you, my lord,’ I said crisply. ‘Any more questions?’

There was silence. Kate gave an extended thank you and there was a hearty round of applause before the audience were released into bubbling chatter.

I let everyone rush the tea and cake table like a mosh pit at a concert. Deliberately slowly, I shut my computer down and drank my glass of water. Then Kate reappeared bearing me a cup of tea in a green glazed cup, and a large slice of chocolate fudge cake, along with two friendly WI members who praised the talk as I sipped. I took a bite of cake. Good lord, it was heaven, utter heaven. I had to stifle a moan. As I chewed, I looked over at Jamie – he was attacking a slice of Victoria sponge whilst chatting with a large group of adoring women, whilst Callum inspected a rock cake. The look Callum gave me when he caught my eye was so comical, and I was feeling so high after completing the talk, I had to snort back laughter, and nearly inhaled a piece of cake. Oh well, you’ve got to die of something.

My companions continued talking politely as I recovered my equilibrium. When I had, one of them gently nudged me. ‘Don’t take Clarissa personally,’ she said. ‘She’s not Jamie’s biggest fan.’

‘Only because she thought her daughter was going to be Lady Roxdale,’ said the other.

‘Sarah!’ The other one looked scandalised. She lowered her voice to a whisper. ‘You can’t say that.’

I caught Jamie’s eye across the room, and widened my own in a silent ‘goodness this is interesting’ look.

‘Why not, if it’s true?’ said Sarah, although she too had lowered her voice. ‘It’s not Lucinda’s fault if her mother’s been acting like some latter-day Mrs Bennet.’

‘I can see there’s a lot more to Stonemore than meets the eye,’ I said encouragingly.

‘You wouldn’t believe it,’ Sarah hissed, and I leaned in. ‘The things they do to get their daughters in front of him. The poor man should—’

‘Can I rescue my newest employee?’ Jamie’s voice rang out, and Sarah turned the same shade as the cherry on her Bakewell tart. But he showed no sign of having heard anything, only asked after their families as I shovelled the last of my cake down and thanked Kate. When I’d finished, he turned to me and said in an undertone, ‘Sorry if I interrupted – I thought you might be ready for all this to be over. Callum said he’d see us outside.’

‘I am absolutely ready to go,’ I said quietly. ‘Thank you. I’m meeting Fi for a quick drink.’

‘Right.’ He took my cup and plate from me, then helped me into my jacket. When I pulled my arm back to put it in the sleeve, I winced. ‘Are you okay?’ he said.

‘Fine, thank you,’ I smiled. ‘I’m a bit stiff. All the weeding at Belheddonbrae.’

‘I thought you’d just leave it to go wild,’ he said.

‘No, it’s important to get all the nettles and docks out before we start planting the wildflowers. And you have to do that by hand, really. But that’s my dirty secret – I love weeding.’

‘Duly noted,’ he said. Was that a slight twinkle in his eye?

I became aware that people were watching us. Clarissa was long gone but most people were still chatting, and it was clear we were now a topic of conversation. ‘Is this what it’s like being a member of the royal family?’ I murmured to Jamie as we strode out, side by side. ‘All those eyes on you?’

‘I have no idea,’ he said, and I saw his expression had hardened.

We walked silently out into the darkness, into the rush of cold, clear air. Callum was vaping, and a faint miasma of bubblegum scent filled the air. ‘Did you enjoy the rock cake?’ I said.

He fished it out of the pocket of his waxed jacket, whole, and tapped it disapprovingly. I am disappointed to report that I giggled like a schoolgirl.

‘Did I say well done?’ said Jamie abruptly.

‘I don’t think you did,’ I said, startled.

‘You were very convincing,’ he said. I should add that he wasn’t looking at me, the whole time; his gaze was fixed on the distant hills, or an approximation of where they were in the winter darkness, whilst Callum puffed away on his vape and nodded in agreement with the sentiment.

I gave a mock-curtsy. ‘I’d better go,’ I said. ‘Fi will be waiting in the Rising Sun.’

‘Sure, I’ll walk you down,’ said Callum.

‘Thanks.’

‘Bye,’ said Jamie, and before I could reply, he had turned and stalked off in the other direction. I don’t know why I was taken aback by his rudeness – I should have been used to it by now – but when I looked back at Callum, he was smiling at me. ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘Work’s over for the day.’

We walked in parallel down Stonemore’s main street, past the closed grocery shop and bakery, and along a row of quaint grey stone cottages. Occasionally I’d feel the bump of his arm against mine. With the combination of adrenaline from the presentation, plus cake and caffeine, I was feeling pretty good.

‘Stonemore sure is dead on a Monday evening,’ said Callum, guiding me onto the pavement as a car passed. ‘How’re you finding it? Getting any yearning for the big smoke? Newcastle, at least?’

I laughed. ‘Not at all! How about you? Do you like the quietness?’

‘It’s all I’ve ever known. Came here from the Highlands.’ There was that slow smile again. ‘And quiet doesn’t mean boring. It depends on the company.’

‘It certainly does. I’ll need a night or two at home under blankets to get over the drubbing Clarissa gave me.’

He laughed. ‘Happens to the best of us. She had one thing right though – you’re very pretty.’

I blinked. Really? Had he really just said that?

‘Callum McGregor, are you flirting with me?’ I said, as teasingly as I could.

‘No, no,’ he was half laughing, and gently he pulled my elbow to turn me towards him. ‘Just stating the plain truth.’

‘I see.’ We were staring at each other now, his hand poised on my arm. I suddenly regretted there not being a shot of vodka in my tea. My first kiss, after Sean? Courage, mon brave ! Callum was drifting slowly, too slowly, towards me. I couldn’t take the tension. I pressed myself against him and ducked my face towards him, ignoring the fact that landing a first kiss takes about as much delicacy as docking a space station. Instead we came at each other at the wrong angle and our teeth clashed. We bounced away, smiled, then as I moved towards him and he suddenly came towards me, I landed him with a near perfect headbutt.

I jerked myself away, feeling the heat rising in my face. ‘I’m so sorry!’ I said, stifling the urge to flap my hands around.

He was laughing, and I caught that faint bubblegum scent. ‘It’s okay, Anna. It’s okay.’ I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me, but he didn’t seem uncomfortable at all.

I was rubbing my forehead and just about gathering my wits when I glanced to my left and my hands closed over Callum’s arms in a grip of terror. A woman’s face hovered at the window of the cottage, barely a foot from where we were standing. As I stared at her face in horror, her mouth formed a perfect ‘O’. She reached up, undid the catch and cracked open the window slightly.

‘Oh, hey Heather,’ said Callum cheerfully.

I opened my mouth to follow his lead but a small croak came out instead.

‘My apologies,’ Heather whispered, inspecting me. ‘Nothing happens here normally, and that was so dreadfully entertaining.’

As I stared at her, she re-closed the window and mimed zipping up her lips. Callum gave her a thumbs-up, and gently guided me on down the street as I tried to work out what happened. ‘Village life,’ he murmured.

I shook my head in disbelief.

‘This is me.’ He tapped the battered Land Rover. We looked at each other. The moment had definitely passed. But he was smiling, and when he reached out and brushed a curl of hair off my forehead, I was relieved to see that relaxed twinkle in his eyes. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow, Anna,’ he said softly.

‘See you,’ I said, simultaneously smiling like an idiot and feeling as awkward as.

As the Land Rover roared off, I pounded over the grey stone bridge and towards the lit, half-timbered frontage of the Rising Sun. I really needed a drink now.

You would have thought the extra-large Jack Daniel’s and coke I ordered would have been enough to loosen my tongue about what had just happened between me and Callum. But I didn’t tell Fi. It would have been selfish to catastrophise about a failed kiss after what she had just endured. Instead I settled down with her in a nook which was lavishly decorated with horse brasses, ordered drinks and double crisps, and at her request told a comical version of the evening’s events, leaving aside the five minutes when I’d lunged at Callum.

‘That was nice of Jamie and Callum to come and watch,’ said Fi.

‘Yes,’ I said, and decided to venture it. ‘Is – er – Callum single, by any chance?’

She put her wineglass down and wrinkled her nose. ‘I don’t think he’s seeing anyone at the moment.’

I tipped my head at her. ‘Your face looks weird,’ I said. ‘What aren’t you telling me?’

She gave an embarrassed huff of a sigh. ‘It’s just – if you’re looking for another relationship, Anna, I wouldn’t go for Callum. He’s a nice enough guy, don’t get me wrong, but he’s not one for commitment.’

‘Absolutely not looking for a relationship, mate, so I’m fine then,’ I said, although I felt surprised that she thought of Callum in such terms.

‘Anna.’ Fi stared hard at me. ‘You’ve been through a lot. I don’t want to see you get hurt again. And you said my face looks weird? Well, you’ve got that slightly dreamy look on your face that tells me you’re in the early stages of an infatuation.’

‘No, I’m not!’ I cried, so loudly that the people at the next table looked over. Sometimes it was inconvenient having a very best friend. They don’t let you get away with anything.

She sighed again and gazed at me.

I leaned close to Fi. ‘I mean it,’ I said. ‘I don’t need commitment right now. I need a bit of fun. To get my mojo back. I don’t want to be moping around the cottage thinking about the past.’

‘The only way out of that is through,’ said Fi, crunching a handful of crisps. ‘Callum’s not your shortcut through heartbreak, I can promise you that.’

‘Come on, you have to tell me more than that.’

Sadly, Fi wasn’t a gossip. She shook her head and I made an internal vow to get her drunk one day and get all of the details about Callum out of her. She sat there, in a faint air of disapproval and concern. I squeezed her hand.

‘He did rescue me the other day,’ I said. ‘He was a bit of a hero, if you ask me.’

Fi swallowed a mouthful of her drink with a frown. ‘Jamie rescued you, more like.’

I paused, a crisp halfway between the packet and my mouth. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Exactly that. Jamie was watching the Land Rover on the GPS and told Callum they had to go and get you. Callum didn’t have the foggiest idea how long you’d been gone. Loses all track of time.’

Recalibrating my vision of Callum coming to my rescue, I pushed the crisp packet away. Perhaps Mr Relaxed was a bit too relaxed.

‘So,’ said Fi. ‘Who’s the hero now?’

‘I wasn’t after a hero,’ I said huffily. ‘According to my therapy books, I’m perfectly capable of saving myself.’

‘I’ll raise a glass to that,’ said Fi.

‘Finally, something we can agree on,’ I said, raking another crisp out of the packet.