Chapter Twenty-Three
Counting Down
Austen Archer beamed through the glass door of the bookshop the next morning. When Annie let her in, she brought with her the force of a whirlwind, she was so enthusiastic in her mission.
‘Right, you two!’ she said, as Harri emerged from his room pulling on a brown cardi over a t-shirt. ‘I’ve been sent to give you this.’
Austen forced a basket into Annie’s hand. ‘I’m on the rota for today. You’re going out. See some sights. It’s a bookselling holiday , remember?’
‘I’ve still not seen this volunteer rota everyone keeps going on about,’ Harri replied, ‘but I don’t mind the idea of a day out of the shop, if you don’t?’
Annie was already reaching for her slouchy bag, making sure she had her book and phone. ‘I’m in,’ she said.
As much as she adored working in the shop, the thought of leaving on Saturday had brought a sense of urgency. She hadn’t seen much of Clove Lore and she’d arrived under a cloud worrying about Cassidy. Now that was resolved, she wished she’d enjoyed herself more. Who knew when she’d next be taking a vacation? Money could well be scarce when she got back to Texas, if she couldn’t keep her position at the school library. If things got worse, not better.
‘Bella’s walking William up from the Siren in a bit, so I’ll have him helping, and I’m doing the poetry session at four, so there’s no need to hurry back. Oh, but if you bump into Mrs Crocombe or Bovis on your travels, can you ring the shop and I’ll let everyone know?’
‘They’re still not around?’ said Harri.
‘No sign of them. Even I’m getting worried,’ Austen replied, seemingly surprised at herself. ‘Anyway, off you go. The Clove Lore estate gardens are always open. The big glasshouses are pretty at this time of year. And they’re heated.’
This was all the prompting Annie needed to carry her out of the shop, up the slope and to the ticket kiosk at the entrance gate to the Big House estate where Izaak waved her and Harri through without asking for any money. He also asked if they happened to have seen Mrs Crocombe on their way here. It seemed everyone was on the lookout for the old matchmaker.
‘She can’t have gone missing missing, can she?’ Annie asked Harri as they made their way across the dewy, misty lawns of the Big House.
Harri didn’t seem too worried. ‘I think folks in Clove Lore can’t stand it when they don’t know everyone’s business twenty-four-seven. If one of your neighbours back home wasn’t spotted for a day or two, would you even notice?’
Annie’s neighbours’ houses were a hundred yards from her parents’ place in both directions down an unwalkable road. She’d have no clue where her neighbours were at; couldn’t recall the last time she’d even seen them.
‘Exactly,’ said Harri, noting her silence. ‘So,’ he cast off the subject, ‘what’s the basket in aid of?’
‘Oh, yeah.’ Annie lifted the bright yellow wicker basket so she could prise open the cloth-wrapped bundle inside, revealing heart-shaped cookies, wrapped sandwiches – also cut in the shape of love hearts – and two bottles of chilled peach tea. ‘A picnic,’ Annie confirmed. ‘A Valentine’s picnic.’
If Harri thought it was yet more meddling, he didn’t show it. ‘Austen made it?’
‘No idea.’ It didn’t matter either. Even if this was yet another attempt at matchmaking, Annie was just glad of a day out of the shop and some time alone with Harri.
The day was cool and cloudless, the sky a shocking blue. Up here on the springy, damp lawns of the Big House they could see much of the promontory and the tops of the cottages winding down to the harbourside. The tiled roof of the Siren was just visible from here. Way out on the winter horizon, container ships passed one another, only tiny black dashes from this distance.
Annie breathed in the chilly air. It smelled of the estate’s woodland, budding rhododendron and heritage pines. Birds sang all around them as they came to a gravelled path that led around the side of the grand house, though Annie couldn’t spot any of them.
‘William’s birds,’ she said, listening.
Harri smiled his agreement and reached to take the basket from her. ‘I’ll carry it for a bit.’
She let him take it, fixing the straps of her bag over her shoulder.
‘I saw you bringing a book,’ Harri said, gesturing to the bag. ‘Thinking I was going to bore you?’
Annie gave a laugh. ‘No.’ She bumped his arm with hers. ‘It’s just now I’ve got my reading powers back, I don’t want to be too far from a good book. You get it?’
Harri nodded again. Of course he did. He’d never lost his love of reading in all the time she’d known him.
‘I uh…’ he began, as they crossed a gravelled knot garden with low parterre hedges forming diamonds with sweet white narcissi boxed inside them. ‘The other night, at the silent reading thing?’
Annie’s feet stumbled on nothing and she reached for Harri’s arm to steady herself, before whipping her hand away again, shoving it in the pocket of her long coat.
‘When Paisley rang?’ Harri pressed on. ‘She was letting me know she’d dropped off the last of my books and clothes at Mam and Dad’s.’
‘Oh.’ Annie hadn’t expected this. ‘That’s it?’
‘What do you mean?’ Harri stopped briefly at the foot of the stone steps that led to yet more spongy, mossy lawn.
‘She didn’t want…’ Annie felt herself shrinking, ‘…anything else?’
Embarrassingly for Annie, Harri seemed to catch her meaning. He sniffed a little laugh. ‘She just wanted to let me know.’
Annie’s chest heaved like she was going to sob. She forced herself to smile placidly. ‘I’m sorry about that,’ she said.
‘Don’t be.’
Annie wanted to scrutinise his face but dared not turn her head to look at him. She climbed the steps up onto the higher lawn. The apex of tall glasshouses came into view behind what looked like the remains of ruined stone walls, a damaged building, where two figures sat on one of many wooden pews open to the air, looking out over the estate to sea.
‘Is that… Jowan?’ Harri was saying.
‘And Minty,’ Annie added.
They made their way towards them, but as she stepped in silence, Annie ran the math in her head. Her cab was booked for nine on Saturday morning. That left them sixty… eight precious hours of vacation, and here was Harri, finally turning a corner with Paisley. He’d arrived crushed and sombre, guilt-ridden even, but now he was lighter. She sneaked a look at him, the basket in his hand, his other hand shoved casually in his coat pocket, his scarf thrown round his neck, his specs glinting in the glare of winter sun. He was actually smiling at the prospect of bumping into these villagers. He’d definitely changed. He was happy. With the end of their holiday in sight and only sixty-eight hours left to them, he was happy. A strange pang bloomed in her chest. She forced it away as Minty heard their approach and turned to welcome them.
‘Our picnickers are here,’ she said, and Jowan turned too. Aldous was dozing inside his owner’s coat, only the fuzzy beige dome between his ears poking out of Jowan’s open collar.
Harri was looking around them at the tiled floor, the broken columns, the altar stone. ‘Is this a church?’
‘This,’ Minty began proudly, ‘was Grandmama’s chapel. It was destroyed in the Christmas Eve flood, and now it is our open-air wedding venue. Couples come from all over to say their vows here, even without a roof!’
‘An’ it’s the place we wed,’ Jowan put in, prompting a smile from Minty. Annie registered how much she looked like a girl in that moment.
‘It’s beautiful,’ said Annie, and she meant it. Even in the cold weather, this was a beautiful spot.
‘You’re here to sow love apples?’ Minty said, utterly throwing both Annie and Harri.
‘Sow what?’ Harri said, amusement in his voice.
Jowan explained. ‘Valentine’s is the traditional time for sowing tomato seeds, or love apples as they used to be known. Leonid’s set up a potting area in the temperate house so visitors might take home their own little seedling. A souvenir of Valentine’s week in Clove Lore.’
‘Be sure you take yours, Harri,’ Minty added.
It took Annie a second to grasp what Minty was getting at. She circled a finger as she thought it out. ‘Ah, US border control?’
Harri clicked too. ‘Good point. Doubt you can fly with compost and seeds in your hand luggage.’
Everyone was smiling, but Annie’s heart pumped harder at the thought of being processed at the airport. Sixty-eight hours , her brain repeated.
Minty hurried them away, telling them to enjoy their picnic, saying it would be warm in the cactus house.
They left the couple enjoying the view from their pew and made their way to the door of the first glasshouse.