Published by Avon

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First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins 2016

Copyright © Bella Osborne 2016

Bella Osborne asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Ebook Edition © October 2016 ISBN: 9780008180997

Source ISBN: 9780008181024

Version: 2017-11-16

WHAT READERS ARE SAYING ABOUT ESCAPE TO WILLOW COTTAGE

‘Loved this book, so light-hearted and amusing’

‘A lovely read’

‘Oh what a little treasure this is! A cast of great characters, lovely Cotswold village and Beth trying to cope with the disaster she has bought’

‘Full of wit and charm’

‘Great characters who have quickly become established and rooted in my imagination. Very funny, but with deeper undercurrents woven in’

‘Loved the story, couldn’t put it down’

‘Absolutely loved this book, hooked from the start’

‘Three Words: Brilliant, Charming and Moving’

‘This is a wonderful read’

In memory of a truly amazing woman, my Grandma 1903–1993

Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

What Readers Are Saying About Escape to Willow Cottage

Dedication

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Acknowledgements

Keep Reading…

About the Author

About the Publisher

Chapter Eleven

‘Carly!’ said Beth, her voice sharp.

Carly spun in Beth’s direction with an exaggerated movement. With slow blinks she looked at Beth until something registered.

‘Beth! This is … um … what was your name again?’ She swung precariously back towards Jack who stopped her falling on him with one hand whilst holding the pub table steady with the other.

‘I know who it is.’ Beth was trying to suppress the annoyance that was rapidly developing within her.

‘He’s lov-erly,’ cooed Carly whilst she stroked his arm in a deliberate action.

‘I’d like to know what he’s planning on doing with my drunk friend?’ Beth retorted. Jack let go of Carly as if she were a lit firework.

As the accusation slowly registered, Carly looked hurt. ‘I’m not dunk!’ she protested as she slowly slid towards the floor.

Jack was looking blindly from one woman to the other as if he’d just been teleported there. ‘I was just …’

‘For someone that wasn’t looking for a relationship a few hours ago you’ve sure as hell come round to the idea quick!’ Beth stepped forward and grabbed Carly by one arm and hauled her into a standing position. ‘Come on! We’re leaving now.’

Carly wobbled on unsteady legs, grinned inanely at Jack and was towed away.

They stumbled into the sunshine and the mêlée of the Summer Fete quickly surrounded them.

‘Ooooh, coconuts!’ squealed Carly, veering off.

Now that the flash of temper had subsided Beth wasn’t entirely sure where she was heading. Having separated Carly and Jack she wasn’t certain why she’d interfered but in that moment it had seemed like the only thing to do.

‘Beth, hang on!’ called out Jack, jogging up to them and catching Carly mid-sway.

Beth raised her eyebrows. ‘Shall I leave you to it?’ she asked, her question aimed pointedly at Jack.

‘I’m fine, really fine. Oh, hello, it’s you again!’ Carly grinned broadly, full of surprise at the sight of Jack keeping her upright.

‘She needs to sober up. Help me take her back to my place, will you?’ asked Jack.

‘And how safe will she be there?’

‘Bloody hell, Beth, I’m trying to help here.’

Beth didn’t really have another option. She couldn’t see Carly being able to crawl into her tent even though it purported to be a three-man version; she and Leo hadn’t had enough space.

‘You always have the answer, don’t you, Jack Selby?’ Beth was indignant.

‘You got a better one?’ He was frowning at her.

‘That’s not the point.’ People were slowing down and stopping to listen. ‘Right, fine. Come on, then.’ She stood on the other side of Carly, put an arm round her and began to frogmarch her towards Jack’s.

‘Carly, walk straight!’ Beth ordered.

‘She can’t, she’s drunk!’ said Jack. Then he leaned across to try to catch Beth’s eye. ‘Does she have a problem?’ he asked, his voice softer.

Beth halted and Carly swung forward precariously. ‘Are you calling my friend an alcoholic?’

‘No, I’m asking if she …’

‘Ooooh, shops,’ said Carly as they were waiting to cross the road at the far end of the village.

‘A butcher’s, a gift shop and a dress shop for anyone that wants to look like a pantomime dame. Come on,’ said Beth, surging ahead.

‘A bit harsh,’ said Jack, evidently trying to lighten the somewhat frosty mood.

‘Ooooh, I like panto,’ slurred Carly swaying unsteadily.

‘Oh no you don’t,’ Jack replied, which set Carly off into a fit of giggles. Was he still flirting with her?

Beth stopped in the middle of the road and leaned round a wobbling Carly to speak to Jack. ‘Look, in case you hadn’t realized, this is my best friend Carly Wilson. She is almost engaged to a wonderful man called Fergus. I do not want you sticking your oar in or anything else come to that!’ Beth held Jack’s glare.

‘Traffic!’ he said, forcing Carly and Beth onto the pavement as a stream of cars trundled towards them. It was difficult to have a conversation with someone swaying in the middle so Beth focused on moving Carly along as quickly as possible.

‘It’s like a three-legged race,’ said Carly, ‘but with, one, two, four … lots of legs!’

Once inside Jack’s cottage, an overexcited Doris greeted them with slobbery kisses so Jack left Beth to cope with Carly while he escorted Doris into the garden.

‘Have a lie-down and see if you can sleep it off,’ said Beth, guiding Carly onto the sofa.

‘Ooooh, look, pretty shelf,’ said Carly, reaching out a hand towards the driftwood and sideswiping a small wooden box that was nestled there, sending it clattering onto the floor. ‘Whoopsie,’ she said with a giggle, as Beth dashed to rescue the item.

Beth crouched down and retrieved the box, which had an intricate inlaid design on its lid, and as she picked it up a metal disc fell out. ‘Bugger,’ said Beth, picking that up too and trying to work out how to fit it back into the recess in the lid.

‘Why doesn’t this stereo work?’ complained Carly from the other side of the room, where she was pressing all the buttons on a black box.

‘Because it’s a printer,’ announced Jack as he came in from the garden, leaving a disgruntled Doris barking behind him.

‘But we need moooosic!’ whined Carly, swaying precariously as Jack expertly steered her onto the sofa.

‘Great idea. You lie down there and I’ll sort out some music.’

Beth was frantically shaking her head at Jack. The last thing they needed was an uncoordinated Carly pogoing around the living room; nothing would be safe.

‘I think I’ve got “Is This The Way To Amarillo” somewhere,’ he said, raising an eyebrow in Beth’s direction. Beth felt her cheeks instantly colour up – so he had seen her the day he left the barbecue. He joined Beth and took the small box from her.

‘I’m sorry, is it broken?’ she asked, screwing up her face and hoping the box wasn’t as expensive as it looked.

Jack shook his head. ‘Completely ruined.’

‘Oh dear, is it?’ Beth bit her lip as she took a closer look.

‘No, the humidifier has popped out, that’s all,’ he said flatly, expertly replacing the disc and returning the box to the shelf. ‘It’s a cigar box.’ Beth looked suitably surprised. ‘It was my grandfather’s.’ They stood and looked at the box for a moment until they were interrupted by a large snore from Carly.

‘Come on, let’s leave Sleeping Beauty and get a coffee,’ said Jack, leaving the room.

Beth sent a quick text to Fergus to let him know where Carly was and that she was okay, which was stretching the truth slightly. He replied immediately.

Thanks B. You’re a . Was worried.

Jack was busying himself with his coffee maker when Beth came into the kitchen. ‘I only have decaff. Is that okay?’ he asked, holding up a pod.

‘Yeah, fine. I’m sorry if I was a bit overprotective before but I meant what I said about Carly and her boyfriend,’ said Beth.

‘About them being almost engaged? What is that exactly?’ asked Jack.

Beth was finding Jack particularly irritating today. ‘Her long-term boyfriend is about to propose.’

‘Right. Is this the same guy who she’s been waiting to ask her for three years?’

‘She told you?’

Jack turned round and rested against the worktop, a hint of a smile on his lips. ‘She told me a lot of things.’

Beth tilted her head in interest but she was not going to ask, even if the curiosity proved fatal. She hoped Carly hadn’t revealed anything about her. For some reason it mattered to her what Jack thought.

‘Then you’ll know that she loves him and she’s not looking for a one-night stand with … with someone like you.’

Jack chuckled. ‘Hell, who made you her mother?’

‘So, that was your plan then. Get her drunk and …’

‘Hey, not so fast. She was at the bottom of wine bottle number two when I found her. She asked me if I knew you and we started chatting. I was only being friendly.’

They shared looks of mutual contempt.

‘Where’s Leo?’ asked Jack.

Beth was instantly irritated by his combative tone and she glanced at her watch. ‘He’s with Denis but I’d better go. Don’t touch Carly while I’m gone!’ Beth strode out of the door and sprinted across the road and the village green towards the pub. Engrossed in the kerfuffle with Carly, she had lost track of time. She knew Leo was safe with Denis, but she still felt awful for being so distracted.

Beth escorted a moaning Leo out of the pub. On the green the same gang of people were taking down the stalls as the last few revellers milled about. Shirley was sitting on a bench conducting an imaginary orchestra while two couples waltzed around in circles. Beth couldn’t be sure if it was the usual level of bonkers for Dumbleford or if Shirley’s 1960s cake had something to do with it.

Beth spotted Jack. As soon as she approached him he held up his hand as if to stop her. Leo got distracted by a butterfly and started to follow it from buttercup to buttercup nearby.

‘I’m done with the accusations, Beth. Your friend is at my house. The door is unlocked so you can get her whenever you want. I’ll be a couple of hours and I’d like to think she’d be gone by the time I get back.’

‘The door’s unlocked?’

‘Yes, Dumbleford is a quiet little village. Not London. Get used to it!’

Beth was taken aback by how vehement Jack was but now, having calmed down a bit, she wasn’t sure herself why she’d made such a thing about him and Carly. She guessed it was because she was being protective of her friend. Yes, that must be why she reacted like that.

‘Right, thanks. Will do. Sorry if I was a bit …’

Jack paused mid-walk, waiting for her to finish her sentence.

She shrugged. ‘Sorry,’ she repeated and walked away, collecting Leo as she went.

Three fully leaded takeaway coffees later, Carly and a sick bag were on their way back to the train station. Leo was zoned out playing a game on Beth’s phone, so Carly and Beth were able to have a hushed conversation in the front of the hire car.

‘I can’t believe you were going to kiss Jack,’ said Beth.

‘I wasn’t!’ protested Carly, although she was scowling as she spoke. ‘Well, it was only going to be a little kiss on the cheek not a full-on snog fest!’

‘You were not heading for his cheek!’

‘That was probably the wine doing the steering,’ said Carly glumly rearranging her sick bag.

‘Why were you going to kiss him at all? You don’t know him, he’s a stranger and you have Fergus.’

‘He said something lovely … but I can’t remember what,’ said Carly pulling the same face she pulled when she accidentally switched on University Challenge and tried to join in. She sighed. ‘I’m sorry I was drunk.’

‘And what did you talk about anyway?’

‘I’m so sorry, but I can’t remember,’ said Carly, hugging the sick bag as Beth went a little too fast over another village speed bump.

‘Nothing at all?’

‘Nope.’ Carly shook her head. ‘Ouch. Wishing I hadn’t done that,’ she said, putting a hand to her forehead.

‘Me too,’ muttered Beth.

‘Are you and he … you know?’ asked Carly.

‘No! Seriously, do you think I would get involved with someone else so quickly after Nick? Or even get involved with anyone at all after Nick?’ Beth’s voice was rising.

‘I don’t know.’ Carly’s expression was pained. ‘No. Of course not. Again, very sorry.’

‘Good,’ said Beth, relaxing her tight grip on the steering wheel.

They bumped along the hedgerow-lined lane in silence for a while before Carly spoke. ‘You can’t pledge not to have any more relationships because of Nick.’

‘I can,’ said Beth with a snort.

‘You shouldn’t,’ said Carly, as Beth opened her mouth to contest. ‘I don’t want to argue. I’m your friend and I’m just saying, you never know. And while I’m at it from what I can remember Jack was really nice to me, so don’t judge him the same as Nick. If he wants to help you, give him a chance.’

‘I’m thinking he might not want to do that after today,’ said Beth and she started to grind her teeth.

Beth was pleased to be waving Carly off on the train back to London but she was a little sad too. Carly was her best friend and despite the chaos she had managed to cause it had still been good to spend some time with her. Sometimes, all you needed was a friend you could be yourself with. They had both been cheered up by the revelation that there were direct trains from Moreton-in-Marsh to Paddington so they could be together in approximately an hour and forty minutes, assuming there were no delays.

Now that Beth had taken back her phone, Leo was chatty in the car on the way back to Dumbleford. He was reliving all the fun he’d had with Denis at the fete.

‘Am I definitely going to go to Denis’s school?’ he asked. It was hard to tell his true feelings on the subject from his neutral tone.

‘I think so,’ said Beth. ‘I’ll need to speak to the head teacher once the new term starts.’

He needed to go to a school and the village one was the logical answer. She no longer had the income to fund a private education and she couldn’t imagine home-schooling. There was a pause before he answered and Beth held her breath whilst glancing at him in her rear-view mirror. This could go either way, she thought.

‘Okay,’ he said eventually, breaking out into a smile, and Beth started to breathe properly again.

By Monday, Carly was once more feeling like a human being as opposed to a small furry-tongued creature that had been trampled by marauding Vikings. Her weekend had been an utter disaster and it was all her own doing. She knew it wasn’t Fergus’s fault that she had built up the image of the treehouse, although he could have warned her that there wouldn’t be any flushing toilets. Equally he wouldn’t have been aware of the large amount of sheep poo, though the fact that the treehouse was on a working sheep farm might have been a clue. However, the lack of a proposal was definitely down to Fergus. She didn’t know what to do about that.

Going to Dumbleford had not salvaged the weekend as she’d hoped. Beth had abandoned her in a pub when she was feeling glum, so that bit was Beth’s fault. She probably should not have finished the second bottle of wine but it was a long while since she’d been that drunk and she was pretty sure that she hadn’t offended anyone, so no real harm done.

She shrugged off any residual guilt, sipped her black chai tea and perused the paperwork in front of her with interest. She’d been asked to sign at pantomimes before but usually refused as, despite having some experience, there was a lot of preparation required for only a handful of signed performances. But this one was different. This one was at a new theatre in Gloucester and Carly was now familiar with its proximity to Beth and the fact that it was an easy train journey from London. It would mean being away from Fergus for a few nights but perhaps that would do them good? There had only been the briefest of text messages exchanged between them and Carly was apprehensive about his return.

Hopefully, by the time the panto season arrived Beth would have made the cottage liveable and she could stay there and spend some quality time with her friend. She was missing Beth, and an opportunity to stay with her was something to look forward to as long as she could convince Fergus that it was a good idea. Oh yes I can, she thought and chuckled out loud as she folded up the proposition. She’d speak to Fergus about it tonight when he got back from the treehouse. She sighed to herself. She really hoped things were fixable between them.

Chapter Twelve

The following week was a blur of activity for Beth, with workmen to liaise with and sorting out Leo’s new school. The head teacher was thrilled to have another pupil joining them and confirmed that Leo would be in the same class as Denis. His uniform was easily purchased direct from the school too, so a day after term started Leo was walking to the local primary, chatting at high speed to Denis. Petra and Beth followed behind. Beth was grinding her teeth – something she seemed to do whenever she was stressed.

‘Look at him, he’ll be fine,’ Petra said, giving Beth a reassuring look. ‘It’s a nice school. I like that there aren’t many children, it means they get more attention. Boys need a watching eye.’

‘I guess so,’ Beth replied. Seeing him in a new uniform brought home the fact that she had wrenched him away from everything he knew and forced him into this situation, although she had to admit that right now he seemed fine about the change. Beth knew that as soon as the cottage was finished she would be looking to move, so this new school situation, and the feelings that accompanied it, would be a recurring state of affairs and another wave of guilt engulfed her.

The builder, Kyle, was on site with two colleagues and they got to work alongside a small weasel-like man who was the electrician. Beth was impressed by the amount the four of them could get accomplished as she battled on her own with the triffid-like plant that had been hell-bent on taking over the kitchen.

Kyle had explained that they were going to do their best to reproduce the original lath and plaster ceilings with modern materials. But they were leaving out the horsehair; Beth had wholeheartedly agreed with that as it just seemed a very bad idea to put any part of a horse in anything. She was also quite keen to get a smooth finish and she hated it when a hair from a paintbrush became immortalized in a painted surface, let alone lots of them.

There had been a steady stream of boards carried into the living room and upstairs, and repeated banging whilst they were nailed into place before it went eerily quiet and the plastering commenced. Beth had poked her head around the living-room door a couple of times and each time she could see a vast improvement from before. She was so pleased to see that they had protected the large beam over the fireplace with sheeting. She loved the look of the old beam – it was a real feature in the room. For a moment, she could imagine her own knick-knacks and photographs on it above a roaring log fire but she dispelled the image quickly as Willow Cottage was meant to be a project. Getting sentimentally attached to it was a very bad idea.

When Beth checked her watch, it was time for school pick-up and she wondered how all the hours had dissolved so quickly. She washed her hands and looked at the stubborn plant stump that was still poking its way through the window frame. She wouldn’t be beaten by it; she’d hack at it from the other side when she got back.

Beth met Leo with more than a little trepidation but she needn’t have worried. Apart from handing her his rucksack with a muffled ‘Hiya,’ he barely acknowledged his mother as he was far too busy discussing football with Denis and two other boys.

Petra gave her a knowing nod. ‘What is it you say in this country? I told you so.’

September proved to be a beautiful month as the daytime hours got noticeably shorter and the colours changed around the village. The village green’s trees put on a vivid display as they took on their autumn hues, with the rich bronze of the large beech trees and the deep red shades of the ash and rowan being Beth’s favourites. The last of the ducklings were just distinguishable from their parents and were now glad of a feed midweek, as the tourists only seemed to appear at weekends. The morning skies were almost lavender, and although there was more cloud about, it was still comfortingly warm.

The school did a brilliant job of putting on the harvest festival, which was very well attended by the villagers and which Leo loved taking part in. He had one line to remember which he delivered perfectly, much to his delight and Beth’s relief. She noticed that Jack gave him a big thumbs-up when he came offstage too.

Beth was working on the cottage every day. She was up before Leo and could easily get an hour in before he stirred. Thanks to the electrician, the entire cottage was rewired and totally safe, so despite still sleeping in the tent, the introduction of a fridge/freezer, microwave, kettle and toaster had improved things greatly. All the new appliances were residing in the hallway whilst Beth tackled the kitchen, making a little progress each day.

By the end of the month, Kyle had finished all the essentials, so Beth now had two new ceilings, a new bedroom floor, a leak-free roof, and a damp course. She had been making progress herself – the whole house had been scrubbed and bleached to within a dust speck of its very existence and she was now making inroads on the kitchen, having banished the creeping plant. In fact she was down to the stage she’d been looking forward to most: designing a fitted kitchen.

The reality of handing over a large chunk of her savings to pay for the work and the lack of anything coming into her account worried her, and she knew it was time to economize further. Within hours, she was literally waving goodbye to the hire car, much to the embarrassment of Leo and the hire-car collector. She hadn’t used it much since they’d got there and trips to the supermarket and launderette could be accomplished on the bus, but she would build up to that adventure; there was only so much she could cope with at once.

The next milestone came in the form of two large flat-pack boxes and heralded the end of sleeping in the tent. Leo was seriously excited at the prospect of having a real bed again, which made Beth choke up. After an exciting day of screwing together the beds, Beth found herself in the pub on carnivorous quiz night, so called because it was sponsored by the local butcher, and all the prizes were meat- or poultry-related. Only in the Cotswolds, thought Beth and, more accurately, only in Dumbleford. Leo and Denis were in the flat above the pub watching Dr Who on DVD, giving Beth a little time to herself. It felt good to be away from the cottage. She sat at the bar sipping a small glass of wine and engaging in stilted conversation with Petra, who flitted from one customer to the next as they got their rounds in before the quiz started.

Jack suddenly appeared at Beth’s side. She felt his presence before he spoke. ‘Beth,’ was all he said, with a curt nod of his head.

‘Jack.’ She mimicked the nod before returning to her drink. This was their level of interaction since the whole bank holiday debacle with Carly.

‘Oh good, you two are friends again,’ gushed Petra, as she pulled a pint of Guinness for Jack. Both Jack and Beth went to speak but it seemed neither had the heart to contradict her. ‘You doing the quiz tonight, Beth?’ asked Petra. Beth shook her head as Jack shuffled coins around in his hand whilst waiting for his drink. Petra leaned over the bar conspiratorially, ‘You should.’ She winked slowly. Beth glanced at Jack in an attempt to gauge his reaction. She’d hardly spoken to anyone all day and, if she were honest with herself, she wouldn’t have minded joining in.

‘Petra, you’re being all mysterious. What do you know?’ asked Jack, paying for his pint.

‘I couldn’t possibly say but, trust me, you need Beth in the team tonight. Unless of course you want another crushing humiliation like last week?’

‘Come on, then,’ said Jack, walking away from the bar. It was very similar to the way he spoke to Doris. Oh to be held in that high regard by Jack, thought Beth, as she smirked to herself. She joined the usual team members at their table and they all asked her the same questions that everyone did: How are you settling into the village? How is the cottage coming along? Beth had fairly set answers for both which she repeated, and then picked up her glass to indicate the interrogation was over.

Jack let out a slow steady breath and Beth stiffened. ‘I’m surprised you haven’t got on with weatherproofing the window frames before the weather changes.’ Jack was talking into his pint. She had expected some sort of criticism from him but she wasn’t going to rise to it. She knew she wasn’t going to be friends with Jack but she didn’t have the energy to be enemies either.

‘Hmm.’ She pondered his statement. ‘I don’t know why I haven’t either.’ Jack looked briefly in her direction and raised one eyebrow in a look of disbelief. ‘It’s probably because there’s only me doing it all and I thought getting the place hygienic so that Leo and I don’t come down with some fatal dirt-related disease was more important. Oh, and focusing on getting the kitchen fitted so that we can actually eat something different to barbecued meat and microwaved jacket potato.’

All eyes at the table studied their drinks intensely as silence reigned.

‘You need a hand?’ asked Jack at last, a slow smile playing on his lips.

‘No, thanks,’ she answered almost before he’d finished the sentence.

Simon bent forward. ‘Did you say you were fitting your own kitchen? Because I’m a chippy by trade and I’d happily give you a hand. Only if you wanted me to, obviously.’ He appeared keen to avoid the same rebuff as Jack.

‘Thank you, Simon, that’s really kind of you, but even with your expert help I’d be hopeless at fitting a kitchen so I’ll pay the store to fit it.’

‘No,’ said Jack, loud enough for Audrey to almost spill her Martini and lemonade. ‘Sorry, I mean, don’t do that, they’ll charge the earth and they rush things. If you don’t mind it taking a bit longer, me and Simon could do it evenings and weekends for you.’ He was signalling to Simon as he spoke, and Simon was nodding so hard Beth feared he might injure his neck.

‘I don’t know,’ said Beth, looking at them both. Simon looked quite excited at the prospect. Jack was now giving off his usual hard-to-read aloofness. ‘What would it cost me?’

Simon spoke first. ‘I only take payment in strong tea and custard creams.’ He gave her a warm friendly smile, which she returned. They both looked at Jack for his response.

He rubbed his chin. ‘Dog-sitting.’

Beth’s brow furrowed. ‘Dog-sitting? Looking after Doris?’

‘Yep. I’m at home less and less and she’s unhappy being left on her own. If you’re in all day you could have her at yours and keep each other company.’

‘I don’t know,’ said Beth. The thought of the giant hound in the small cottage didn’t sound like anyone’s idea of a smart combination. ‘Do I have to pick up poo?’

Jack chuckled. ‘No, she goes first thing, so you should be all right. But, in case of emergency, put a bucket over it and I’ll sort it when I pick her up, okay?’

Beth was still assessing the proposition as the fat man with the shiny head took to the mike. ‘Welcome to the Bleeding Bear Pub Quiz. Round one: the London Underground. Are you ready? Question one …’

Beth looked over her shoulder to see Petra giving them the thumbs-up and another unsubtle wink.

Fergus was sulking. Things hadn’t been great since the treehouse fiasco, mainly because Fergus didn’t know what he had done wrong and Carly wasn’t able to explain it to him. When she’d asked Beth for advice, she had suggested that they needed to speak to each other more. Her choice of words may have been ill thought through but her sentiment was spot on. They had been interacting less and less recently and Carly needed to do something before things became irretrievable.

The fact was that they were drifting apart and Carly felt it acutely. So now she was going to do her best to engage with Fergus and to show an interest in the things he was interested in. The last thing she wanted was for the relationship to break down; she loved him and she knew that was all that really mattered.

Carly made Fergus his favourite vegetable curry with naan bread, poppadoms and mango chutney, which they ate in silence. She opened him a chilled beer and passed it across the table.

‘Thanks,’ he said.

‘Fergus, I want to know about …’ Carly stopped signing as Fergus wasn’t watching her, he was drinking his beer with his eyes closed. She waited until he put it down. She waved to make sure she had his attention. ‘Fergus, I want to know about your work,’ she signed.

‘Why?’ He didn’t look pleased at the prospect.

‘I’m interested and I don’t know anything about it.’

He pursed his lips. He had full lips, eminently kissable lips. Carly was distracted and missed what he’d signed. She signed to him to repeat it and he looked frustrated with her.

‘Why don’t you play a few games on the computer with me and then you’ll get it.’

This was what Carly had feared most. She didn’t get computer games. In her view they were just for children and she didn’t see the point of them. To her it was all a big waste of time but she knew she had to overcome her prejudice for the sake of their relationship. ‘Okay, I’ll clear away the dinner things. You set something easy up and I’ll give it a go.’

Fergus was grinning broadly. He looked thrilled that Carly was going to play his game with him. Bless him, she thought.

An hour later she wasn’t thinking bless him. She was thinking that she could have merrily battered him to death with the computer mouse. He had explained to her at length about Minecraft and the myriad creatures that occupied its strange world. She had then been let loose on the game herself, with Fergus giving instructions over her shoulder, and now she’d had enough of being chased by ghasts, creepers and endermen, or whatever the stupid creatures were. It was so stressful and watching the screen lurch about was making her feel nauseous too.

‘What do you mean I’m now a flowerpot?’ shouted Carly.

Part of the confusion seemed to have come with Fergus explaining verbally to Carly what he felt were very clear instructions but, as they were both looking at the screen and Carly’s hands were busy using the controls, any questions she asked went unheard and unanswered.

‘No, you need to act like a flowerpot or someone will spot you and kill you. Ahh, there you go, you’re dead.’ Fergus stretched over, tapped on the keyboard and the screen changed. ‘Here, forget the mini-games, let’s try building something again.’

Carly dropped the controller as if it were molten lava. She would rather have her eyeballs tattooed than play for another minute. As the earlier lesson on building had also turned into a one-sided shouting match, Carly knew she had to walk away before she did or said something she would regret.

‘Beer?’ she signed and he signed ‘Please,’ which allowed her to escape to the kitchen where she could have a good rant without being heard.

Chapter Thirteen

Beth was juggling a PE kit and a lunch box as she tried to leave the house. ‘Hang on,’ said Beth as she locked the front door. She didn’t want Leo charging off without her. ‘Have you had Jack, I mean Mr Selby, teach your class yet?’

‘Nope,’ said Leo, fidgeting as he saw Denis come out of the side door of the pub.

Beth couldn’t work out why Jack was so busy if he wasn’t teaching. The school only had one class and, from what she’d gleaned, he was their IT teacher. Things weren’t adding up. On the walk to school, Petra was having a rant about brewery deliveries so Beth just listened and nodded in the right places.

Leo was swallowed up by the ancient school entrance without giving his mother a backward glance. It jabbed at Beth’s heart but she was pleased that he had settled in so well. As she walked back with Petra, the subject changed to being a single parent.

‘I don’t know how you run the pub as well,’ said Beth, who was truly in awe of Petra. There was no question that Beth was better off without Nick but it was no picnic managing everything alone.

Petra shrugged off the compliment. ‘How long have you been on your own with Leo?’

‘Since he was a baby. There was a boyfriend until recently but that didn’t work out. How about you?’

‘The same,’ she said, with a sad smile.

‘Leo’s father died. What happened to Denis’s?’

‘Disappeared,’ said Petra, wiggling her fingers into the air. Beth was smiling at the gesture but Petra wasn’t.

‘Like magic?’

‘Like the Devil,’ said Petra, with a frown. Beth wanted to ask her more but they were level with the pub and, with a forced smile and a wave, Petra was gone.

Beth started to think about what she had on her ‘to-do’ list for the day and decided that, although it pained her, Jack was right and she needed to get on with the outside paintwork. The trees on the green were turning all the colours of a fanned flame; some were starting to drop their leaves and, though the weather was fair and dry today, there was no telling how long that would last.

As she rounded the willow tree, she saw Jack. He was suited up and checking his watch. Beth slowed her pace for a second to give herself a moment longer to admire him. There was no getting away from the fact that Jack Selby was rather good-looking. His hair was neater than usual and his suit showed off his broad shoulders and slim hips. He really did suit a suit, she thought, and it made her giggle. Doris sat at his side looking around and probably wondering what was going on.

‘Good morning and welcome to doggy daycare,’ said Beth, striding past them to unlock the door. Doris padded in and started sniffing everything.

‘Here’s her bowl and blanket. She’s been fed, she just needs water. She’s been for a run so she’ll most likely sleep all day. Any problems, give me a call.’ This was going to be easy, thought Beth.

‘Have you got a busy day ahead?’ she asked but as soon as the words had left her lips she wanted to curl into a ball. She sounded like her mother; if she wasn’t careful she’d be asking if he’d got clean underwear on next. She shook her head to dispel any thoughts of Jack’s underwear.

Jack gave a half-smile. ‘Just the usual.’ He handed her a business card. She was still reading the card and holding the dog’s bowl and blanket when she realized that Jack had gone and Shirley was walking past, taking in the scene and shaking her head.

‘Morning, Shirley,’ she said, with a wave.

‘Morning, crazy lady,’ said Shirley, as she and her trolley shuffled by. Beth felt a thump in her thigh as Doris charged past her. Doris’s gruff bark made Beth jump and cost her valuable moments as she lunged unsuccessfully for her collar. Doris bounded up to Shirley, making Shirley look even smaller than usual.

‘Doris! Come here! Heel! Stop! Halt!’ Beth tried a series of commands as she ran over to the barking dog, but Doris wasn’t paying attention. Doris was fixated on barking at Shirley and her wheelie trolley.

‘Stupid animal!’ said Shirley, waving her arms about wildly, which put the dog on her guard and she stepped back and wagged her tail whilst continuing to bark.

This gave Beth a chance to grab hold of her collar and she marched a reluctant Doris back inside. ‘Sorry!’ Beth called over her shoulder. Shirley shook her head, muttered something, patted her wheelie trolley and moved off again.

Beth guided Doris inside, shut the door firmly, and the dog recommenced her exploration of the cottage whilst Beth reread the business card.

Jack Selby

IT Consultant

Selby Systems

She was intrigued. Was he moonlighting? Or just bigging up a very small part? She turned the card over in her hand, looking for more clues, but that would have to wait until later as there was a noise coming from upstairs. Beth started up the stairs but, before she got halfway, her tent appeared in the bedroom doorway. Doris had somehow managed to get inside the tent but now was unable to get out of it and looked as if she was wearing it as a fancy dress costume. She tried and failed repeatedly to get through the doorway but the springy tent frame bounced her back each time as she whimpered her frustration. Beth blinked hard; maybe this wasn’t going to be that easy after all.

Carly was waiting on the cobbles in Covent Garden. She and Fergus were having a date night. She froze when she saw the bouquet of pale roses coming towards her but relaxed as soon as she saw it was Fergus carrying them.

‘You okay?’ he asked, planting a kiss on her lips.

‘Yes. I wasn’t because, for a second there, I thought you were Nick.’

‘Whoops. I got the roses because you really liked the ones he bought you.’

She had to admit it was a lovely thought, even if it was borrowed from Nick. ‘Your bunch is bigger than his.’

‘I know,’ grinned Fergus, before handing them over and giving her another kiss.

Date night was another of Beth’s ideas and Carly hoped it would end better than the Minecraft tutorial. Carly and Beth had slipped into having long conversations on the phone on a Wednesday evening and it was definitely helping Carly’s state of mind. There were few people that Carly would listen to but Beth was one of them. She had suggested that the proposal was becoming a destructive obsession and that Carly needed to recognize this. It wasn’t what Carly had wanted to hear but she knew her friend was right. And now she was trying very hard to shove it firmly to the back of her mind.

Fergus had booked the restaurant so Carly was a little apprehensive, although she had said that they could pay for it from the bills account in the hope that it would steer Fergus away from fast food. Fergus was wearing trousers and a jumper. No jogging bottoms or lounge trousers in sight – it was a very good start.

They strolled around Covent Garden for a while, popping in and out of the stalls and shops. Covent Garden was always full of life but especially in the early evening when the theatre crowd descended. People were sitting outside making the most of the lack of rain and mild September weather. Music was coming from somewhere but, before they could investigate, Fergus took her arm and guided her away. They ambled along Garrick Street until Fergus stopped and opened the door to a small restaurant.

‘It’s new,’ he whispered, ‘but I’ve heard good things about it online.’

It looked as if a lot of other people had heard good things – the restaurant was heaving. Every inch of available space had a table in it and every table had as many chairs around it as possible but the jolly waiting staff seemed to squeeze through the awkward set-up with ease.

The menus arrived and, on realizing Fergus was deaf, their young waitress proceeded to shout at Fergus, ‘Can you hear me now?’

‘No, I’m still deaf,’ said Fergus, to the puzzled young woman. ‘I can lip-read but it’s easier if you don’t shout.’ She blushed and proceeded to go through the specials at a normal volume. Fergus had long since stopped getting cross with people who thought shouting at him would solve the problem; their lack of awareness wasn’t meant as a personal attack.

The food was incredible and, for the first time in too long, they signed to each other and had proper conversations in between courses. At first, Carly felt the intrigued eyes of other customers on them but they soon lost interest.

Fergus talked about them getting away to Ireland. There were places he wanted to show her, parts of his history he wanted her to see for herself. He brought to life the smell of the peat fires and the noise of the bars as well as the madness of his family. She had met his parents a few times when they’d visited London and she’d been to Ireland once but it had been a flying visit where she was wheeled round elderly relative after elderly relative before they attended his cousin’s wedding. On that trip she had got to know quite a lot of his relatives, the fun and overwhelming volume of an Irish wedding reception, and the effects of too much Guinness, but sadly nothing of County Westmeath.

At the end of the meal, they sat and sipped tea until one of the waitresses coughed and they noticed they were the only ones left in the restaurant.

Fergus took Carly’s hand across the small table. ‘Are you happy, Carls?’

She didn’t have to think. ‘Yes, I am.’ Things were looking better and, more importantly, things felt better. She wasn’t foolish enough to think everything was completely fixed but they were definitely heading in the right direction.

‘That’s good, ’cause I’m happy too. Just the way things are.’ Carly wasn’t sure what that meant. She tried to keep smiling but her brain was working overtime now. Was he trying to tell her something? She wanted to ask him but he was smiling at her and she didn’t want to turn the happy moment into a deep discussion or, worse still, a row.

The bill arrived, Fergus paid with his sole account card and they walked to the tube hand in hand and in silence. Carly tumbled his words over in her mind but the only way she could interpret them was that Fergus didn’t want anything to change and she assumed that included marriage because that would definitely change things.

‘So why didn’t you say something right then, at that moment?’ asked Beth, the irritation obvious in her tone as she tried to balance the phone between her ear and shoulder. ‘That was the perfect opportunity to raise the whole marriage question.’

Carly was pulling faces on the other end of the line. ‘I know, but then the bill arrived and the moment was gone and you can’t go back to a conversation later on, it doesn’t work.’ She’d been worrying about it all night and, thanks to fitful sleep, she felt wretched.

‘Yes, you can. How about saying, “I’ve been thinking about what you said in the restaurant and …” then you start talking about it again.’

‘Oh, that is rather clever,’ said Carly, ‘but still it was yesterday, he might not remember what he said.’

‘Then remind him. Jeez, you do make things hard sometimes, Carls.’ Beth was simultaneously unpacking what she’d bought from the DIY store.

Carly pondered her mixed emotions. ‘The thing is, I’m kippered either way because if I say I want to get married and he says he doesn’t, then …’

‘Then at least you’ll know … drop it, drop it now!’

‘What?’ Carly was shocked by Beth’s scolding.

‘Not you, sorry, Doris. Drop the mop, Doris. Good dog. Sorry, I’m dog-sitting.’

‘Dog-sitting? I didn’t know you even liked dogs,’ said Carly.

‘I’m not sure I do. It’s a long story. Anyway, carry on.’

‘Well, it’s even worse if Fergus says he does want to get married because he might just be saying it because I’ve said it and then he’ll only be asking me because I prompted him to and, worse still, he might opt for the “shall we get married then?” type of proposal which isn’t a proposal at all.’ Carly puffed out her cheeks. It was a conundrum and it weighed heavy on her.

‘Then I think you have to explain to him about your dream proposal.’

‘How do I do that without looking slightly mad and obsessive?’ She knew she wouldn’t be able to discuss it with Fergus without gushing or getting overexcited; in fact, it was very likely she might even cry. And she couldn’t show him her scrapbook of all the articles she’d collected over the years, he’d think she was proper crackers then. She was even starting to wonder it herself.

‘I’m afraid I don’t know,’ admitted Beth after a short pause. ‘Sorry, got to go. Doris has found the laundry bin. Bye, Carls … Drop my pants! Doris, pants! Drop them now!’

The phone went click before Carly could say bye. She cradled the phone in her hands. She was back in that uncertain space where she wasn’t sure where their relationship was going next and she had no idea what to do. So she’d just take a deep breath, carry on and keep hoping that everything would be okay.

Beth finally wrestled her now slobber-covered pants from Doris and dropped them disdainfully into the laundry bin. ‘Bad dog.’ Doris seemed to know what this meant because she grumbled and lay down flat on the floor, looking up at Beth with her big dark eyes.

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