Chapter 16
Polly squeezed along the row of chairs, her heart sinking as she realised she was going to be sitting next to Zac.
She’d spent enough time beside him at work and now it looked as though she’d be right beside him for the next hour or however long these village meetings usually took.
At least at work she had the wastepaper bin to separate their desks, here the chairs were so close together that physical contact was likely to be unavoidable.
Slipping her tote bag from her shoulder, she perched on the chair, her bag on her lap. ‘Hello again.’
‘Evening.’ Zac nodded before turning back to the front, his eyes following Jackson as he continued to shift boxes around the stage.
‘You could always go and offer to help him.’ Biting her tongue, she refrained from adding ‘because you look as though you want to be anywhere besides sitting next to me’ and instead plonked her bag on the floor and kicked it under the seat.
Inching it further back, she cursed under her breath at the familiar tinkly sound of her metal water bottle as it once again escaped the confines of her bag.
And yep, there was the rolling sound. Great.
Leaning forward, she looked between her legs and, sure enough, there it was sitting smack bang in the middle of the floor beneath her chair.
There was no way she’d be able to reach it like this.
Scooting off the edge of the chair, she dropped to her knees at precisely the same time as Zac knelt down, coming forehead to forehead with him. ‘Ouch!’
‘Sorry. Let me.’ Waiting until she’d stood up and to the side, Zac reached beneath her chair and retrieved her bottle, holding it aloft in much the same way as she had always envisaged him receiving trophies as the college football hero or some such.
‘Great. Thanks.’ Taking the bottle, her fingers swept across his, causing him to snatch his hand back so quickly that if it wasn’t for the fact Polly shot her other hand out, the bottle would have ended up crashing to the floor once again.
As soon as he’d sat back in his seat, she sank back on hers, inching her chair across the hardwood floor as far away from him as she could.
Why had he reacted so dramatically to their fingers touching?
Was she that repulsive that he thought he’d catch something from merely brushing her skin?
Huh, he hadn’t been so worried about that at her leaving party.
‘Finally, he’s dismissed.’ Laura laughed as she shimmied her way down the row of chairs, Jackson following closely behind, a frazzled expression fixed to his face.
‘Quick, sit down and hide before she realises she needs you for something else.’ Placing her hand on his shoulder, Laura gently guided him into his chair.
‘Haha, I don’t need to be told twice.’ Sitting down, Jackson slumped against the back of his chair and slid his legs forward, ducking his head down out of view behind the people in front.
Polly watched as people stopped talking, and a hushed silence filled the hall.
She glanced across at Zac, whose gaze was fixed on Miss Cooke as she took to the stage.
She understood it now. After all these months wondering what she’d done to wrong him, she understood.
He just didn’t like her. Not like that. Or in any way, it seemed.
The kiss had been a mistake, which, yes; it had been, she agreed.
Everyone knew that relationships at work weren’t such a good idea.
Fair enough. But it wasn’t just that. He’d changed the way he acted around her and just now she could have sworn he’d have rather had the floor swallow him whole than have to endure a moment’s touch from her.
No, it all made sense. He’d done all of this to make sure she hadn’t got the wrong impression from that kiss.
‘Where’s Charlie? He promised he’d come.’ Leaning forward in her chair, Nicola whispered along the line. ‘I don’t want to endure this by myself.’
‘There he is,’ Laura stage-whispered back as she pointed towards the door of the village hall.
‘Fingers crossed he isn’t noticed.’ Nicola grimaced.
‘Our lovely mayoress loves Charlie. If anyone can get away with being late, it’s him.’ Jackson chuckled quietly as everyone’s eyes moved to the creaking door as Charlie tried and failed to slip inside without being spotted.
‘Ah, Charlie, you’re here. Come on in and pop yourself in a chair.’ Miss Cooke smiled brightly as Charlie muttered an apology and half walked, half ran down the aisle towards them.
‘Told you.’ Jackson spoke a little too loudly and tried to cover his words with a cough.
Polly smiled despite herself. She could picture herself living here, finding a place of her own, feeling at home. The people she’d met in such a short space of time were already beginning to feel like friends and the community feel of Meadowfield was obvious.
If only she didn’t have to endure Zac’s awkwardness at work.
She crossed her arms, her bottle still clasped tightly in one hand.
Still, she wasn’t going to allow herself to focus on him and his weird ways.
No, instead she was going to focus on the fact Declan had promised her she still stood a chance at winning the promotion.
That was why she was here, and that’s what she needed to remember.
She wasn’t here to try to decipher Zac Sinclair’s thought patterns.
She was here for her and for her chance at a fresh start.
Everything else she needed to put out of her mind.
To push it out of her mind, the house (or building) and the universe, as her grandma had always told her to do when she awoke from a particularly awful nightmare.
‘…So please welcome our newcomers, Zac and Polly.’ Miss Cooke clapped her hands once as she located them both in her audience.
‘Oh, umm…’ She should have been listening. Was she expected to say something? Had she asked them a question?
‘Many thanks. Very happy to be here.’ Zac straightened his back and looked around the packed hall, smiling.
Drat. That was everyone tuned into Zac’s charms then. She should have been on the ball, she should have thanked Miss Cooke first instead of floundering. Once again, Zac had got the upper hand and, once again, everyone would think he was the friendly one and she the stand-offish one.
Polly opened her mouth to speak before clamping her lips together again as Miss Cooke continued. It was too late now. She’d missed her chance.
‘And now I’ll hand over to Jill, who would like to speak to you all about Meadowfield’s upcoming village bonfire.’ Miss Cooke stepped back as Jill and her children clambered onto the stage.
‘Thank you, Miss Cooke. And to begin my chat with you all about Bonfire Night I have four very excited children who have worked very hard to practise this dance for you. I’m told it’s called “Pop, Fizzle and Bang”.
’ Jill leaned down as her young daughter, Willow, ran across the stage to her, tugged the hem of her mum’s jumper and whispered in her ear.
Straightening her back again, Jill grimaced.
‘I’m sorry, it’s called “Bang, Fizzle and Pop”. ’
The group of children took their places in the centre of the stage as the youngest, Kasey, still strapped securely in his buggy, began banging a wooden spoon against an upturned saucepan.
His siblings pranced and danced their way across the small stage, jumping up and down to the beat.
The teenager, clearly coerced into participating by his younger brothers and sister, spent the time half-heartedly joining in whilst trying his hardest to avoid eye contact with his audience.
As the group finished and the children took a bow, a round of applause erupted and filled the cavernous hall.
‘What a wonderful surprise. Thank you, children.’ Miss Cooke rose her voice as the applause subsided. ‘What a lovely way to begin your mum’s talk.’
As the children filed off, the eldest rolling Kasey’s buggy to the edge of the stage where Gerald lifted him, buggy and saucepan included, down with ease, Jill beamed, her face full of pride.
‘Thank you. Right, so now you have an idea of what to expect, I’ll continue and would like to share that we’re once again having the bonfire and fireworks on Guy Fawkes Night on the primary school playing field. ’
A cheer sounded from the front of the hall and Jill paused before continuing.
‘We’ll be having food trucks and stalls around the perimeter of the playground, weather permitting of course, so there’s no reason for any of you to be slaving away over a hot stove before coming to enjoy the fireworks.
We’ll have stalls inside the school hall too for you to peruse at your leisure before the fireworks.
’ Jill looked around the hall before indicating towards where Laura, Jackson and Nicola were sitting.
‘Plus, this year we’re very lucky as the lovely Laura, Jackson and Nicola from Pennycress Inn will be handing out free sparklers to all attendees and will also be serving mulled cider and toffee apples, so be sure to pop by Pennycress on your way to the school. ’
‘Thank you, Jill. It sounds as though it will be a wonderful night, as always.’ Miss Cooke began walking back towards the lectern where Jill was standing. ‘And I for one shall look forward to treating myself to a nice warm mulled cider.’
‘Thank you, Miss Cooke.’ Jill turned back towards the hall. ‘Oh, one last thing, we do have a little more room for a few more stalls, so if you’d like to join us and haven’t spoken to me, please do catch me sometime this week.’
‘Fabulous.’ Miss Cooke took over, Jill now dismissed.
Polly felt Zac shift in his chair next to her and looked across at him.
He was leaning forward, his elbows on his knees, his head dipped and his mobile in his hand.
She opened her mouth to say something to him before thinking better of it and turning back to the stage again.
If he got caught, then let him take the punishment, whatever that might be, but the way Laura and Jackson had been talking about the infamous mayoress, she wouldn’t like to be in his position if he was caught not paying attention.
She picked at the cuticle on her thumbnail.
Although, this was Zac, the golden boy, the man who had everyone fooled by his charms. He wouldn’t get caught.
And if he did? Well, he’d only go and talk himself right back out of it again.
Pulling on her skin a little too forcefully, she winced as it began to bleed. Drat.
‘Take this,’ Zac whispered as he held out a pale blue handkerchief, folded precisely into a small square, his eyes still fixed on his phone as the screen lit up with a new message.
Looking at the handkerchief in his hand, Polly widened her eyes. Of all the people she’d expect to step in and offer her help, Zac was the last on the list. No, in fact, he wasn’t on the list at all.
‘Thanks.’ She grunted back at him as she took it. Looking down at the pristinely clean handkerchief in her hand, she glanced back across at him. What if she stained it? That would only give him something else to hold against her, wouldn’t it?
Zac glanced up and nodded at the hankie as if indicating she should use it, before turning his attention quickly back to his phone.
Shrugging, Polly wrapped the soft fabric around her thumb. She needed to put him out of her mind. Not that it was easy being as he physically filled every space she went, the office, the inn, even here in a random village meeting.
She unwrapped the handkerchief from around her thumb and peeked at the damage she’d caused.
She knew one thing, and that was that she’d be omitting a few details from tonight’s tale when she recounted it to Stacey.
Her friend would only read something completely ridiculous into the fact Zac had retrieved Polly’s bottle for her and passed her a hankie.
Knowing Stacey, she’d embellish it to the point that Sir Zachary was riding into the hall on his white horse to rescue her from a pit of snakes or something equally deadly.
Besides, she wasn’t thinking about Zac. Not from now on, so she wouldn’t be talking to Stacey about him anyway.