Chapter 19
The sourdough was not a success. Helen’s instructions were that all she had to do was “pop it in the basket overnight then turn it out and bake it in the Dutch oven”. Meg had woken, flopped a sad looking doughy mass onto the worktop, and scraped it into the piping hot oven, burning her arm as she did so.
Forty minutes later the smoke alarm went off.
‘Help,’ she said, hopelessly flapping a tea-towel at the alarm, which seemed to be getting louder. She grimaced as she slammed the oven door closed to try to keep the smoke inside and tried to silence the alarm again, standing on the kitchen chair and waving her hands around. After a final angry blare, it gave up, and Meg climbed off the chair and headed to the oven.
‘You,’ she said to the bread, which she’d somehow managed to cremate, ‘can go outside and cool off.’
She pulled open the back door of the cottage, walking down to the far end of the garden and plonking the red-hot Dutch oven on the top of the stone wall.
‘Nice day for it,’ said a now-familiar voice, and she looked across to the path to see Gabe striding towards her, a broad smile on his face.
He’d shaved, she noticed, and yet somehow his jaw was already darkened with a shadow of stubble. A black cocker spaniel was rushing back and forth in circles around his feet, nose to the ground and a flag of silky tail waving.
‘Hello,’ she said, feeling suddenly shy. She rubbed her nose to hide the smile which seemed to be curving across her lips without her bidding.
‘Should I ask?’ He tipped a curious head toward the metal pot, then as he got closer, his eyebrows shot upwards and he gave a chuckle of amusement.
‘I was baking sourdough,’ she said, laughing.
‘Going well, I see.’
‘I don’t think it’s one of my key skills, no.’
‘Is this something you make a habit of?’ Gabe leaned over, looking at the blackened object.
‘Would it surprise you if I said no?’
‘It’s a relief, to be honest. If this was something you were doing regularly, I’d be concerned for your sanity. You know there’s a perfectly good bakery in the village?’
‘I do.’ She shook her head, meeting his twinkling eyes with hers. ‘My friend left me in charge of her sourdough starter and insisted that it wasn’t rocket science.’
Gabe’s mouth twitched again. ‘It looks like it might be advanced bakery. How are you with cupcakes?’
‘Oh I can make a mean cupcake,’ said Meg, poking at the volcanic remains of the loaf.
‘Well, that’s something. I’ll know where to come if I want one.’ Gabe put a hand down on the wall, leaning against it as he looked at her with his ridiculously blue eyes. She liked the way the wrinkles fanned at the corners, as if he laughed a lot.
‘I think if you’re looking for bread, though, I might go elsewhere.’
‘Luckily,’ he reached into the back pocket of his jeans, ‘I’m not looking for bread. I’ve come on a mission to find something to read.’
‘You’re in luck. I’ve just restocked the shelves.’
He was looking at her curiously, and after a moment, he leaned across.
‘Sorry,’ he said, lifting a finger to her face. He brushed her cheek gently.
Meg, whose knees seemed to have given way slightly, took hold of the stone wall with one hand and stepped backwards in surprise.
‘Flour,’ he explained. ‘On your face.’
He had a slightly lopsided smile, which somehow made him look more handsome. She looked down at her shirt, which was covered in a dusting of flour all over, and swept a hand across her forehead.
‘I expect I have it everywhere. And what do I have to show for it? A burnt missile.’
He grinned. ‘You could start a munitions factory?’
‘Not a bad idea.’
The spaniel jumped up at the wall in excitement as Eliza, clearly concerned she was missing out on some drama, scampered out of the back door and down towards them.
‘Sorry Stanley,’ he said, reaching down to pat the spaniel on the head. ‘You’ll have to take my word for it that there’s a corgi on the other side of the wall.’
Eliza started yapping with excitement.
‘Hello, little one,’ said Gabe, leaning over to reach her as she stood with her front paws against the wall, desperately trying to look over. ‘We’re going for a walk if you want to join us.’
He looked up at Meg. ‘The invitation is extended to you as well. Are you busy?’
Meg was about to make an excuse because she was covered in flour and he’d caught her on the hop and she needed a shower and… oh, a million other reasons, none of which made any sense at all and all of which added up to the fact that her heart was hammering in her chest in a way that was distinctly unfamiliar.
‘No,’ she said, before she could stop herself. ‘Not busy at all. I mean apart from clearing up the munitions factory.’
He laughed. ‘I’ll head down and look for a book and you can meet us down by the library.’
Meg headed inside, rushing upstairs to the bathroom where she washed her face, brushed her teeth, and managed to swipe on some mascara and some cream blush and a bit of tinted lip balm in about three seconds flat. Then she looked at herself in the mirror and wondered if he’d notice she’d done herself up, and rubbed at her face with a towel before brushing her hair and tying it back in a ponytail so it didn’t fly all over the place in the inevitable wind. She swapped her flour covered top for a grey and white striped fleece and pulled on her walking boots, whistling a startled Eliza from the sitting room where she’d already returned to the sofa.
Gabe was standing by the library cupboard, throwing a ball for Stanley. The spaniel seemed to have an inexhaustible supply of energy. He dashed up to her, pink tongue lolling, and then hurtled back towards his owner before screeching to a halt and waiting expectantly for the ball to be thrown again.
‘Wait,’ Gabe said, lifting a finger to steady him.
Eliza scuttled towards Stanley with her usual cheerful demeanour, her fluffy bottom waggling as he sniffed a greeting.
‘I always thought corgis weren’t very sociable.’
‘It’s a bit of a myth. Eliza loves people, because people mean snacks. And she loves snacks more than life itself.’
‘Sounds like she’s met her match in Stan, in that case. He’s never met a food he doesn’t like.’
Gabe looked over at the library cupboard. ‘I found a book, thanks.’
‘Oh good. What did you choose?’
‘I don’t know yet.’
‘Oh you chose one of the surprises?’
There was something she really liked about that.
He nodded, giving her a half-smile. ‘I liked the quote on the side, and I like the idea that you shouldn’t always judge a book by its cover.’
Meg beamed and fell into step with him as they started to walk.
‘So which one did you go for?’
He grinned and held out one of the brown paper wrapped copies. Meg immediately recognised it as the thriller which she’d read and loved a couple of months back. She’d written a cryptic quote on the side, based on the plot. It wasn’t her usual sort of book – she often found thrillers left her double checking the doors were locked and that there wasn’t anyone hiding under the bed before she got into it at night, but she’d loved this one despite herself.
‘Watch your back,’ he read aloud. ‘Interesting, don’t you think?’
Meg was torn between keeping quiet and letting him in on the secret.
‘It’s really good,’ she said, watching his expression as she explained that she’d been the one to wrap it up.
‘Oh, wow. I really like that idea. And now I know you’ve enjoyed it, I’ll look forward to reading it. We can compare notes afterwards.’
‘Let’s hope you don’t hate it.’ She grinned.
‘I haven’t walked this way,’ Gabe said, taking a right as they reached the beach, ‘but there’s supposed to be a really nice path. It’s just been opened up and takes you round towards the grounds of Applemore Estate.’
Meg watched the two dogs rushing around the beach, double checking they were heading in the right direction.
‘Are we allowed on the estate?’
Gabe nodded. ‘According to Donald, my boss, yeah. He pointed it out yesterday when we rudely interrupted your breakfast.’
‘I wasn’t eating breakfast,’ she protested, laughing. ‘I’d been up for hours working, actually.’
‘In pyjamas?’
‘Don’t you ever work in pyjamas?’
Gabe laughed and shook his head. ‘There’s not a lot of call for pyjama clad forestry workers, in my limited experience.’
He stepped aside, letting her go ahead as the track wove up through a gap in the rocks and into the fresh smelling shade of a stand of pine trees. The air was cool and damp. They walked along for a few minutes in peace, the only sound the rustle of the needles underfoot and the panting of the dogs, who were still rushing around investigating their new surroundings.
‘So I’m intrigued.’ Meg slowed slightly as the path widened and he fell into stride beside her. ‘How did you end up here in Applemore?’
‘You’re thinking it’s a bit of a leap from industry to forestry?’
‘It’s not the most obvious career progression.’
‘I was looking for a change. The pot plant on my desk was getting tired of looking at me, and the idea of being outside for a while and not staring at a screen presented itself.’
‘So you found yourself here.’
‘I did.’
His arm brushed against her briefly as they walked on, and Meg decided she was glad she’d ignored the part of her that had wanted to say no to a walk with him.
‘And now you’re working on the visitor centre, which I knew nothing about.’
‘Yeah.’ He pushed a curl back from his forehead with a rueful look on his face. ‘Sorry about that. I didn’t mean to spring it on you.’
‘Oh it turns out I should have known,’ she said, stepping carefully over a tangle of tree roots. ‘So it was my mistake.’
‘I’m glad to hear it.’ He laughed. ‘I mean I’m not glad it’s your mistake, but I’m glad you’re not going to be camped out in the garden with a protest placard. It’s the first community job I’ve been detailed with, so it’ll make my life easier if you’re on side.’
‘It’s not really my place to protest.’ Meg shook her head. ‘So what’s the plan? What does a community job entail?’
‘We – well, Grant Forestry – try to do a certain amount of work to put something back. It’s one of the things I discovered about them once I got here. To be honest, when I arrived, I just wanted to get my hands dirty and do something that would clear my head.’
She glanced sideways at him. ‘And then you realised you actually liked the job?’
‘Well, the job and the people. Donald, who owns the company, is a decent bloke. Not surprisingly, he’s got a group of good people working for him – it usually follows, doesn’t it?’
‘It does.’ Meg thought about the staff of the company she’d run with Michael. She’d been quite relieved to see the back of the staff who’d worked alongside him when she’d sold the business. None of them had ever quite been able to look her in the eye on the odd occasion when they met, and her discoveries after his death had made some sense of that.
‘So what were you doing in your pjs then?’ He looked at her with a mischievous expression.