Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
Butterflies stomped in her stomach, none of that fluttery dancing but heavy hobnail boots making themselves felt.
She took a calming breath and opened the door to find Jamie standing on her step.
Tiggy, who’d firmly established herself as the most important occupant of the house, barrelled past, her considerable weight shoving Bets out of the way in her mission to say hello first.
Jamie immediately knelt and chucked her under the chin. ‘Hello, and who are you?’
Bets rolled her eyes but couldn’t help smiling, grateful to the dog for breaking the ice.
This was her first date since the time Jack had taken her to the cinema to see Shrek.
The first time he’d kissed her. Clumsy and a little awkward, not like the other…
Do not go there! she told herself firmly and brightened her smile as she looked at Jamie.
Unfortunately, thoughts of Jack and their afternoon interlude kept intruding at the most inopportune moments.
‘This is Tiggy, resident princess – she’s a complete attention-seeker. I’m seriously thinking about buying her a tiara.’
‘She is rather gorgeous.’ He grinned up at Bets, his quick approving appraisal and the brightening of his eyes communicating an unsaid ‘like her owner’.
Bets blushed. She wasn’t used to compliments and didn’t quite know what to do with them.
‘You all set?’
She nodded, suddenly shy. ‘I’ll just grab her lead.’ She stuffed the obligatory poo bags into her jacket pocket and clipped the lead to the dog’s collar.
Jamie’s car, a big BMW thing, was tidy inside.
No rubbish. No mud. No animal paraphernalia to be seen.
The boot, into which they loaded Tiggy, had a mat on the floor and one of those organiser boxes containing hiking boots and shopping bags as well as a window-scraper and de-icer.
She hoped the underside of her trainers weren’t dropping dried mud in the footwell of the passenger seat.
Thank goodness she hadn’t invited him into the cottage. She’d made a brief effort to tidy up this morning, stuffing things into cupboards and drawers while wondering where on earth the spanner under a pile of newspapers on the kitchen counter had come from.
She directed him to Ivinghoe and the handy parking spot at the start of the route. It was a popular location and there were already quite a few cars taking up residence in the small, gravelly car park. ‘We’ll do a circular walk, if that’s okay.’
‘You’re my local guide. I’m in your hands.’
‘Don’t expect me to be gentle with you,’ she said, letting the dog out while he laced up his walking boots, took out a waterproof and placed it in a small daypack.
‘It’s not going to rain today,’ she said, trying not to be amused by what she thought of as his townie preparation for a walk in the country, wondering what was in the little rucksack. They were going for a gentle stroll, not a trip up the .
‘It’s best to be fully equipped. There’s no such thing as bad weather, just bad clothing.’
She nodded, unable to stop her mind immediately going back to being on the reservoir with Jack in the pouring rain, and the warming bliss of the shower afterwards. Stop it, she told herself, clamping hard down on the memory.
She could hear his ‘I still love you,’ and every time she wondered if pushing him away had been the right thing.
Had she been punishing him, heady with the power of him admitting he’d been wrong, or had she done the right thing?
She didn’t want to be second-best anymore.
Going back now felt too much like capitulation.
Nothing had really changed, not for her.
Even if the sex had been amazing. Which she kind of wished it hadn’t been, because then she wouldn’t keep thinking about it so flipping often.
‘I promise it won’t rain,’ she said, wrenching herself back to the present and studying the bright blue sky above them dotted with soft white clouds drifting slowly by.
The sun’s heat, even from behind the wispy cloud, promised a warm day.
In fact they’d better get a move on before it became too hot, although she had a portable water bowl for Tiggy.
French bulldogs had a tendency to overheat very easily and she didn’t want to have to carry Tiggy’s formidable weight home.
‘Okay, I’m trusting you.’
‘It’s Tiggy I trust. She’s a weather dog.’
‘A weather dog?’ asked Jamie with an amused, sceptical expression. ‘Is that really a thing?’
‘Apparently so.’ Shaking her head, Bets gave the dog a quick reproving glare.
‘I tried to take her for a walk the other day. Stubborn doesn’t begin to describe her temperament.
And she’s heavier than she looks. After ten minutes of begging, pleading, bribing and attempting to drag her to go for a walk, while she’s giving me that “I’m not going anywhere” stare.
I gave up. We went home. No sooner had we got through the door than the heavens opened.
’ She patted the dog on her head. ‘She knew something I didn’t. ’
‘Clever,’ Jamie agreed. ‘Okay. Who am I to argue with a weather dog?’ He tossed his jacket back into the car.
The walk, one of Bets’ favourites, took in some of the best sights of the Chiltern Hills, and although there was initially a steep climb, the view was worth all the heaving breaths required.
They plodded up the slope without saying much, Tiggy trotting sprightly along beside them, sniffing and snuffling at all the exciting scents in the longer grass just off the path.
It was rare for her to roam very far away; she liked to keep Bets in her sights.
‘Wow,’ said Jamie, pausing to take a breath, ‘that’s some view.’
‘It is, isn’t it?’ she replied, pleased that she’d impressed him.
To their left and right green rolling hills bordered a wide flat plain that spread out as far as the hazy distant horizon.
The rich, green, sloping pastureland was dotted with sheep, scattered with short, scrubby brush and crisscrossed with yellowed paths skirting the contours of the steep sides.
Beyond, on the blurred horizon, they could just make out distant hills, barely molehill-high.
‘Oxford is over that way.’ Bets pointed ahead. ‘They say on a clear day you can see the spires but I never have. And that’s’—she turned and indicated the large hill to their right—‘Ivinghoe Beacon, which we’ll skirt on our way back.’
‘I can see why it’s called that. If you lit a fire on top, you’d see it for miles around.’
Once they’d crested the hill, they dropped down and the path entered woodland, where they wound their way through the ancient coppicing.
The trees rustled around them, full of birdsong and movement, as tiny sparrows, wrens and blue tits flitted from tree to tree.
Away to the left came the determined knocking of a woodpecker, the sound of its drilling pecks echoing around the woods.
Bets paused to listen to the sounds around them, sighed and took in a deep breath, a familiar sense of well-being settling upon her.
Being among trees always soothed her, not that she’d ever said that out loud to anyone.
They symbolised the serenity and stability she’d always craved, a stalwart, strong part of the landscape.
At this time of year, she loved the infinite shades of green and the way the light filtered through the branches.
Lost in her musings, she suddenly realised that Jamie had gone on ahead, striding away as if he had some place to be.
Tiggy, halfway between them, looked back at her as if to say, I’m not sure who I’m supposed to be with, so can you hurry up?
Bets reluctantly stirred her legs into action to catch up, quashing the tiny bit of resentment.
Wasn’t the point of a walk on a Sunday morning to amble along, take your time and enjoy the journey?
Even though she’d lived around the area for her whole life, she never took it for granted.
And she needed to give Jamie a chance instead of finding the nitpickiest fault with him.
She was just out of her comfort zone, that was all.
A chaffinch darted across her path and she paused to watch its progress as it flew into a nearby hawthorn.
‘Come on, slowcoach,’ called Jamie from ahead.
‘Sorry,’ she yelled back and picked up her pace, wondering if he’d even noticed the chaffinch, and immediately told herself off for being judgy. Give him a chance.
‘So how long have you lived here?’ asked Jamie over his shoulder as they followed the narrow path along the contour of the hill, walking in single file.
‘I grew up here.’
‘And you never left?’ he asked.
Even though the question didn’t sound loaded, she immediately felt defensive.
‘No. I’m quite happy.’
‘I take it you have been to London,’ he teased, his eyes crinkling.
‘Of course I have,’ she scoffed, realising she was being oversensitive and he was just trying to find out more about her. ‘I’m not a complete country bumpkin.’
‘And what made you decide to become a veterinary nurse?’
She opened her mouth and then closed it, reflecting on her answer. It made her sound a bit dull and unimaginative. ‘I wanted to work with animals.’ The truth was it never occurred to her to do anything different. It wasn’t as if someone like her could go and be an actress or TV presenter.
Meeting Jack had introduced her to a whole new world.
Before then, she’d never even had a pet.
From the moment she set foot in the Ashcrofts’ home and first encountered their menagerie of animals – the lame hamster, Plato; the pack of mongrel dogs, Jessie, Norman and Stanley; the one-eyed cat, Horatio, who hated everyone except Audrey; the pair of sad-eyed donkeys, Mabel and Arthur – she’d fallen in love with every single one of them.
She smiled to herself, wondering for a moment if, in those early days, she was drawn to Jack more because of the animals than because of him.
And there she was again, thinking about bloody Jack.