Chapter Twenty-Eight
The streets of Waterfield looked like something from a Hallmark movie; everything was open for late-night shopping and light spilled onto the pavements from shop windows that were decorated with festive garlands.
People hurried along the street, wrapped in hats and scarves to protect them from the snow that had started to fall, carrying bulging bags and smiling cheerfully.
‘Oh, look,’ Jen said, stopping to gaze at the display in the toyshop window.
Giant teddies dressed in pyjamas – a mum, dad and two children – stood next to a fake fireplace and a Christmas tree that twinkled with red and gold lights and decorations.
Each teddy held a toy – a doll with long, dark hair, a wooden train, a red toy car, and the youngest bear held a teddy, dressed in pyjamas identical to its own.
‘How sweet! I still haven’t got presents for Amy and George.’
‘Want to go in?’ Anthony asked.
Jen was tempted. She knew that Amy loved the cows on the Woods’ farm, and she was sure she’d find a beautiful soft toy one in the shop, or perhaps a wooden farm set. George liked his tea set, and she was sure he’d love a little wooden cooker with some play pots and pans.
The shop looked beautiful, and she knew she’d find what she wanted in there. It also looked expensive.
Her dwindling funds were starting to worry her; she’d been dipping into the money she’d saved for her annual Christmas trip abroad, and it was rapidly disappearing.
She knew she could pick up shifts at the bar when she returned to her old life; the manager had already messaged a few times, asking when she might be available.
There were plenty of staff, and the manager was understanding, but eventually her patience would wear thin.
Jen had stayed in Babblebrook far longer than she’d intended; she should get back to her own life at some point. But not yet.
She shook her head.
‘No, it’s OK, thanks. I’m kind of hungry, so . . .’
Anthony nodded. ‘Then let’s get you fed!’
As they walked away, Jen gave one last look back at the toyshop. Perhaps she could ask Andrew, Marnie’s partner, if he had any of the nutcrackers left from the Christmas market. With a bit of luck he’d give her mates’ rates.
They went to the same restaurant, sat at the same table, in a cosy corner. Carols played softly in the background and there was a comforting hum of people talking and clinking cutlery. The smell of garlic and wine hung in the air.
‘I can’t believe you just turned up at Julia’s house out of the blue like that,’ Jen said, smiling, as she glanced at the menu.
Anthony reached for her hand across the table. ‘I just really wanted to see you. And I had a feeling you’d be OK with something spontaneous, I know you’re not uptight about that kind of thing.’
She felt her smile grow wider. She wasn’t great at planning, never had been, and other people had let her know in no uncertain terms that they found this trait frustrating.
Even at college, she’d annoyed her friends by failing to turn up at prearranged times because she’d been distracted by something or lost track of time.
They’d despaired when they were all on teaching practice and she was up till the early hours preparing activities for that day, while they had finished their planning and prep days in advance.
Lou would often help, although she did gently suggest that Jen become more organised, and Ted would cheerfully stay up with her, helping to cut out craft activities or make wordsearches on whatever topic the children were studying.
But even he gently questioned her these days, asking about her work or living situation with a desperately neutral expression that she suspected hid judgement.
And then there was Julia, with her perfect life, who had done all the right things at the right times; graduated university and immediately got a finance job at a pensions firm, married her first boyfriend, moved to live close to where they’d grown up, had two children.
Apparently, when snow and illness didn’t intervene, she took the children to Jen and Julia’s mum’s every month.
All while remaining cheerful and unflappable, and looking stunning.
How was Jen supposed to compete with that?
She couldn’t, so she’d gone in another direction; that of disappointing everyone around her with panache.
She never felt that pressure with Anthony.
He celebrated her for refusing to choose a conventional life. At last, she’d found someone who truly understood her.
‘Not everyone gets it, do they?’ she said.
He gazed at her with those blue eyes. ‘I’ve never found anyone else that does, really. Not – not like you. You’re just so open about things like careers, you know, about understanding that an office job or whatever isn’t for everyone. And you’re so – you don’t judge, do you?’
She shook her head. ‘I admire it, really. Like you, with the writing and the poetry or whatever.’ She realised that she had a rather hazy idea of what Anthony actually did.
But he carried that notebook wherever he went, it was poking out of his jacket pocket right now, and she knew he wrote poetry.
‘That’s – there are so many people who have that dream, who have some kind of creative talent, but they’re not brave enough to follow their heart.
People just take the easy road and get a proper job, you know? ’
She couldn’t help thinking of Ted and the guitar he used to love playing. He’d been so talented, writing his own songs, but now he was so consumed with work that he never seemed to even think about playing. And Julia, who had loved art at school but had hardly done any since.
‘And you,’ Anthony said. ‘How brave are you? Choosing not to go into teaching even after you’d trained for it.’
Jen nodded, trying to suppress the memories that rose and the feeling that she was drowning that came with them. Not exactly how it had happened, but she didn’t want to shatter his idea of her.
‘And you just choose to be free and travel when you want to and study art or whatever.’
She blinked at him. The travel thing she could just about claim was true, if you counted going on an all-inclusive somewhere hot every December, but she had no idea where he’d got the studying art thing from. Now wasn’t the time to disillusion him.
He leaned closer, his voice taking on a husky tone.
‘You know, when I saw you on the train, I just thought you were this cute, pretty thing that was all bubbly and kind to kids.’ He gave her a lopsided smile that made her head spin.
‘And I wanted to ask for your number or something, but it seemed . . .’ He shrugged.
‘I didn’t want to harass you. And I thought I’d never see you again, and I was so bloody happy when you were in that bar, but I was too shy to go up to you while you were with your friends, so—’
‘You knew I was there?’
That special smile again. ‘Of course. Look at you.’
She found herself beaming. She’d had no idea he’d even seen her at the bar.
‘And then you came up to me – you came up to me – and I couldn’t believe my luck.
I mean, I nearly fell off my chair, but even then, I had no idea who I was meeting.
I had no idea you were so amazing, I knew you were gorgeous, obviously, but I didn’t realise you’d turn out to be this incredible – that you were you. ’
He laughed and shook his head, his cheeks colouring.
‘Sorry, I’m talking nonsense, aren’t I?’
Jen smiled. ‘Sounds pretty good to me.’
She thought of the night in the bar, how utterly cool he’d seemed. She couldn’t imagine that he was the one feeling nervous.
He grimaced a little, looking sheepish. ‘Ugh, I don’t think anyone has ever made me so inarticulate, I can hardly string a sentence together around you. Good job I don’t use words for my job or anything, eh?’
Jen’s heart gave a little jab of joy; she could hardly believe that this beautiful, talented, free-spirited man felt so strongly about her.
She was just a mess, wasn’t she? A woman in her thirties who still hadn’t got her life together, who’d never settled to a career or got married or had a family.
All the things she’d expected she would have done by now.
And somehow Anthony made her feel like all that was OK. She wasn’t a failure, she’d just chosen a different path.
She leaned over the table, pulling him closer, kissing him passionately. And he responded with as much intensity. They didn’t care that they were in public. They didn’t care what anyone thought. The only thing that mattered was each other.
When at last they broke off, Anthony grinned and raised an eyebrow. Jen glanced around, giggling as she realised the waitresses were watching them, smirking and whispering.
Let them. They were just jealous.
Anthony’s notebook lay open on the floor. It must have fallen out of his pocket when they were kissing.
Jen reached for it, glancing at the page as she went to hand it back to him. She’d expected to see lines of poetry or sketches, but the paper was filled with densely packed writing. And something caught her eye – her name.
‘What’s this?’ she asked, smiling, flattered that he’d written about her.
‘Nothing, it’s just some nonsense that – please don’t . . .’ Anthony paled and made a grab for the book, but she pulled it out of his reach playfully.
‘I want to see what you’ve written about me.’
She was expecting to see some descriptions of her looks, perhaps, or something about how he felt about her. Inspiration for a poem, maybe. It was sweet that he was so embarrassed about it.