Caroline had to admit to finding the lack of mobile communication rather liberating after her initial panic about ruining her phone. It felt like a digital detox. She was beginning to worry about The Cider Kitchen though, having been away for over a week now, but Emma had, after all, reassured her that she’d contact Jonathan with any urgent issues. Because she wasn’t being constantly distracted by emails, calls and texts, she managed to get the redecoration of the flat done in record time, and feeling restless, she decided to head back to Somerset. If the worst came to the worst she could shut the door on her living quarters and force herself to take the time off, but in truth, she was missing the restaurant and she wanted to touch base with Jonathan about how they were going to deal with Paul Stone. She resolved to go and see Jonathan as soon as she got back to Somerset. She’d at least be able to tell him that she’d arranged to sell her flat in order to pay back the money she’d given to Stone. The estate agent had told her it should go fairly quickly and that meant the holes in The Cider Kitchen’s finances could be plugged.
Of course, this would all be for nothing if Carter’s still decided to dismiss her. She had to find a way of convincing Jonathan that she was trustworthy, that with Stone out of the way and no longer a concern she would continue to pour her heart, soul and time into The Cider Kitchen. She was faintly optimistic that she’d be able to convince Jonathan, but whether she’d be able to keep Matthew on side once he found out the truth, she wasn’t sure.
Packing her things into the car, she checked her watch. It would take just over two and a half hours and then she’d be home. She couldn’t believe how keen she was to get back to The Cider Kitchen, and Jonathan.
*
At around the same time as Caroline was setting out for Somerset, Jonathan woke the morning after Jack’s funeral with an utterly mind bending hangover. The spare bed at Cowslip Barn was a touch lumpy these days, but he’d crashed out after a hot shower and not woken up until Anna knocked on his door with a cup of honey sweetened tea.
‘Morning, gorgeous,’ he said, cracking open his eyes and struggling to sit up in bed.
‘How are you feeling?’ Anna asked as she deposited the mug of tea on the bedside table.
‘You know that squashed badger on the main road a few days ago?’ Jonathan yawned. ‘Marginally worse than him.’
‘I’m not surprised,’ Anna said wryly. ‘That calvados is lethal at the best of times. And from what Matthew said, there wasn’t a lot left in the bottle he found you with.’
‘Guilty as charged,’ Jonathan said. He sat up in bed and with a shaky hand reached out and took the mug of tea. ‘I kind of drank it as I walked up the hill. This’ll help, though. Thanks.’
‘Ellie wanted to come in and wake you up at about six a.m., but I managed to deflect her,’ Anna said, perching on the side of the bed. ‘I figured you could do with the rest.’
‘Thanks. Again.’ Jonathan, with an effort, swallowed a mouthful of tea and tried not to grimace. He couldn’t stand sweetened tea but he appreciated the thought. He figured his blood sugar levels must be non-existent after last night.
‘Help yourself to some of Matthew’s clothes,’ Anna said. ‘That wardrobe is chock full of jeans, shirts and jumpers that he won’t get rid of. Something’s bound to fit.’
‘Oh, don’t worry about that,’ Jonathan said, ‘I’ll just fling my suit on from last night. I don’t have far to go.’
‘It’s still wet,’ Anna said. ‘And it’s going to need dry cleaning. The mud up on Wavering Down’s awful this time of year.’
‘He told you where he found me, then.’
‘Yup.’ Anna’s look of concern made Jonathan feel a flush of shame. ‘You could have ended up with hypothermia.’
‘I know. Yet again, it was a bloody stupid thing to do, wasn’t it?’ Jonathan dropped his gaze to his mug. ‘But don’t worry. I’m not going to do it again. Matthew gave me a bollocking last night, from what I can remember of our conversation, and as usual, he’s right. There’s no point pushing the self-destruct button; Dad wouldn’t have wanted that. And Christ knows I’ve got enough to sort out without trying to drown myself in drink, or on the hill in a storm.’ He looked back up at Anna, a rueful smile tugging at his lips. ‘I don’t suppose you’ve heard from Caroline since last night?’
Anna shook her head. ‘I’m getting a bit worried, actually. It’s not like her not to be in touch. Emma said she rang about a week ago, and that she’d said call again in a day or so, but she never did.’
‘So, she might not know about Dad, then?’ Jonathan felt a sense of relief. Surely, if Caroline had heard about Jack, she’d have at least sent him a message?
Anna shook her head. ‘I guess not. Obviously, wherever she is must have lousy reception.’
Jonathan took another mouthful of his tea and then swung his legs out of bed. Clad only in his boxer shorts, he wondered for a moment if he should feel self-conscious in front of Anna, but she wasn’t embarrassed, although she did look concerned.
‘You’re getting thin,’ she said as he crossed the room to the wardrobe.
‘I thought it was forbidden to ogle your houseguests,’ Jonathan quipped, and surprised, found that he actually sounded like himself.
‘Oh don’t worry,’ Anna replied. ‘I just don’t want you wasting away. My interest is purely in your welfare.’
‘I won’t,’ Jonathan said. ‘There’s been enough inaction. I’m going to get dressed, force down a bit of toast if you don’t mind me nicking some, and then get on with things.’ He opened the wardrobe and pulled out jeans, a shirt and a jumper. The jeans were a little loose, but they’d do until he got home. Somehow he didn’t think Miss Pinkham and the other elderly ladies of the parish would appreciate him sauntering home in just his boxer shorts.
‘See you downstairs in a minute,’ Anna replied. And then, before she left the room, ‘I’m so glad you’re feeling a bit better.’
‘You know me,’ Jonathan replied sardonically. ‘Nothing gets me down for long.’
As Anna left the room, Jonathan’s face fell again. He’d acted so convincingly he’d almost fooled himself.
*
Caroline crossed into Somerset in record time, and since she didn’t have her phone to provide the music for the journey, she’d been tuning and retuning the car radio to the local radio stations as she went. As she drove through the different counties the accents changed but the type of music tended to stay the same and she quite enjoyed the snippets of local news.
The car’s clock ticked over to midday just as she reached the Shepton Mallet to Cheddar road; the national news headlines finished and the local ones commenced. At the third headline, a local interest piece in a particularly sombre tone, Caroline hit the brakes and swerved into a layby. Surely she’d misheard? Surely, if anything so serious had happened, she’d have known? Somehow? According to Breeze FM, which served the whole of Somerset, yesterday Little Somerby had buried local legend and cider magnate, Jack Carter.
Caroline’s heart was hammering so fast she had to take several deep breaths. When she was sure she was calm enough to drive, she started the car again; she had to get to Jonathan.