The male bullfinch is a chubby, pretty finch with dusky red plumage, grey wings and a black cap. It is a bit like a robin on steroids (ask your mum what steroids are). The female is paler, as if its colour has faded in the wash. The bullfinch song is high and shrill – two short, squeaky blasts like a PE teacher’s whistle.
— Note from Abby’s notebook.
The following morning Abby felt like her eyelids had been superglued shut. She pulled herself wearily out of bed, wishing she’d had the common sense not to agree to early reception duty the day after the murmuration event, and took Raffle for a walk along paths slick with frost. She stopped in at the village store and flicked through the local paper, even though Brad had told her his piece wouldn’t appear until the late edition because he needed time to do the write-up and sort through the photographs. She would have to wait.
She greeted Rosa and Stephan at the visitor centre, took in their equally weary stances, and thanked them both for all their support.
‘It’s going to be easier from now on,’ she said. ‘It’ll get warmer, being outside will be more fun for visitors, we won’t be tensed up against the cold and the wildlife will follow suit. I saw my first daffodils on the walk in today, which is apt considering it’s St David’s Day.’
‘I’m finalizing my spring menu specials,’ Stephan added. ‘Honey and lavender scones should go down a treat.’
‘Ooh.’ Rosa brightened instantly. ‘If you need any tasters let me know.’
The morning was slow. It was still cold, despite the daffodils, and racing, tumultuous clouds were denying them the blue skies of yesterday. No wonder people were staying inside. By eleven o’clock, Jonny was back perusing the binoculars, paying particular attention to a new pair Rosa had ordered in the week before, and Octavia had appeared to talk about the previous evening, and also, Abby soon realized, to give her a telling-off for the lack of progress with the author talk.
‘I’ve been rushed off my feet with this murmuration event,’ she protested, which, at least for the previous two weeks, had been the truth. ‘I haven’t had a chance to ask him.’
‘What about that afternoon in the pub? Don’t look at me like that, Abigail, the whole village was there. It can’t have escaped your notice.’
Abby shook her head, aware that other ears were pricked towards their conversation. ‘He wasn’t in a fit state to be cajoled into doing a talk that afternoon,’ she said, then immediately regretted it.
‘What state was he in?’ Octavia asked.
‘He wasn’t very happy, that’s all. I was trying to cheer him up.’
‘And did you succeed? Is this turning into something we should know about?’
‘No, definitely not.’ Abby took a sip of too-hot tea and spluttered.
‘Not turning into something, or we shouldn’t know about it?’ Rosa’s smile was cheeky.
‘Not turning into something,’ Abby assured her. ‘He’s still a bit out on a limb, and I was being a good neighbour, that’s all.’
‘I saw him last night, I think,’ Stephan said, approaching as he dried one of his vintage cake stands with a tea towel. ‘He was wearing a beanie hat. I couldn’t be sure it was him, but – why would he come to the event?’
‘Why shouldn’t he?’ Octavia asked, her voice high with excitement. ‘He’s getting into the swing of Meadowgreen life, slowly coming out of his shell. This is excellent news.’
‘I don’t know about that,’ Abby said, ‘but he was definitely—’.
‘Jack asked me to give you this,’ Penelope said, striding through the door and handing Abby a white envelope. She nodded greetings to everyone then swept into her office, throwing the visitor centre into momentary silence.
‘Come on, Abby,’ Octavia urged. ‘Don’t leave us in suspense.’
‘I don’t—’ she started, and then gave in, realizing the futility of trying to argue. Why didn’t he drop them off at her house, rather than at the visitor centre where they were pounced upon like lions on a fresh piece of meat? He knew where she lived now; he could easily have posted it there.
But she opened the envelope, wondering whether she should add some dramatic tension for her keen audience, and unfolded the stiff paper that had been pressed carefully into three. His sloping handwriting was as elegant as ever.
Dear Abby,
Well done for putting on an excellent display last night; did the starlings cost much to hire? I’m sorry I didn’t come to see you afterwards. You were the centre of attention, and I didn’t want to distract you.
Also, your educational walk has been most helpful, and the (grizzly) words are flowing. I can’t thank you enough.
Lastly, I’m sure I saw a badger in the garden of Peacock Cottage two nights ago and am planning on holding a stakeout on Saturday evening to see if it returns. I wonder if you’d like to join me? This isn’t a ruse, just an offer of some company, some badgers, possibly a bit of food. Think of it as a thank you for all you’ve done for me.
JW.
She folded the paper quickly, not daring to look at anyone.
‘He wants you to go round and see his badger?’ Octavia raised an unsubtle eyebrow.
Abby rolled her eyes. ‘I told him how rare badger sightings were around here, so he clearly thinks that I’ll be interested – which I am. It would be a wonderful discovery; I could write a blog about it for the website.’
‘Leaving out some of the detail, I hope?’
‘Octavia,’ Abby sighed. ‘There is nothing going on between Jack and me. After a rocky start, we seem to have found a bit of common ground. That’s all.’
‘You should definitely go,’ Rosa said. ‘I’ve seen some gorgeous badger merchandise in a catalogue that I’d love to order, and how great would it be if we could tie it in with a genuine sighting? Have Reston Marsh found badgers?’
Stephan shook his head. ‘They have a night camera set up, but nothing concrete so far.’
‘There you go, then, we could be a step ahead of Wild Wonders.’
Abby nodded, pretending to think about it. A couple of months ago, it would have been the thought of seeing a badger so close to the reserve that would have had her pulse racing, and of course it would be wonderful if Jack hadn’t been mistaken. But a night in Jack Westcoat’s company was the star attraction. The badger, if it reappeared, would be an added bonus.
‘I won’t be gone too long,’ she told Raffle that Saturday evening as she rifled through her wardrobe. She picked a lilac cardigan and a white blouse with tiny blue forget-me-nots, over dark jeans and brown, calf-length boots. She kept her short hair loose, and added eyeliner, mascara and rose pink lip gloss. She’d bought a bottle of wine and a salted caramel cake at the closest supermarket, and she put them in a tote bag, along with a night-vision scope Rosa had let her borrow on pain of death that she brought it back in perfect condition.
Raffle followed her into the living room, his head low in an Oscar worthy display of sulking, so that Abby risked dog hair all over her outfit giving him an extra-long cuddle and settling him on the rug in front of the fireplace.
Doing up her jacket, she left the house and made her way quickly along the village road and into the woods, turning on her torch as she left the streetlights behind. At six-thirty it was close to being dark, and Abby couldn’t wait for the days to stretch out towards summer, for the heavy warmth of the spring sun on her face. Peacock Cottage looked cosy and inviting, an outside light next to the front door welcoming her; it was the first time Abby had seen it switched on, and the thought that it was for her made her heart skip.
She knocked on the door, heard footsteps padding down the corridor and then Jack was in front of her, wearing a black shirt, open at the neck, jeans with frayed hems, and black socks. He looked completely relaxed, free of the tension in his shoulders and jaw that she had come to expect. He gave her a warm smile and invited her in.
‘Hi,’ she said, as he took her bag, giving her space to shrug off her jacket.
‘Glad you could come.’ He hesitated for a moment, then leant down and kissed her cheek, the gesture somehow misplaced, as if he should have done it on the doorstep or not at all.
‘Thank you for inviting me,’ she said. ‘I bought some things.’ She pointed to the bag and Jack looked inside, his eyes widening.
‘That’s very kind. You didn’t need to. Is that your scope?’
‘No, I borrowed it, but I thought we couldn’t take the stakeout very seriously if we didn’t have the right equipment. Show me where you saw the badger.’
‘Right, of course. This way.’ He led her down the corridor.
The walls were painted peacock blue which, while pretty, made it seem dark and narrow, but then it opened up into a bright, compact kitchen. As Jack had mentioned, the appliances looked like they could do with updating, but everything was clean, and a couple of arty postcards on the fridge added a splash of colour. Abby wondered if they were purely for decoration, or if they had been sent to Jack by friends and family in London. On the far wall, a long window over the sink looked out on the back garden, and next to it was the glass-panelled back door.
‘I was rinsing a tumbler before bed,’ Jack said, leading her to the sink, ‘and I hadn’t bothered to put the light on, which meant I could see the garden. The long grass over there was shaking, as if something heavy was walking through it, and I’m sure I saw a flash of white, like the stripe on their noses, but it didn’t come onto the lawn so I couldn’t be sure.’
‘It sounds promising,’ Abby nodded. Jack didn’t need to know that her only encounter with a badger had been terrifying. She hadn’t been expecting it before, hadn’t been prepared, but now she was – for a badger sighting, at least. She could smell Jack’s expensive aftershave, and also something delicious that made her stomach rumble.
‘It’s just chilli,’ he said when she glanced around the kitchen. ‘I hope that’s OK?’
‘It smells amazing.’
‘Let me open the wine and get you a drink while it breathes. What would you like? I have gin and tonic, vodka tonic, whisky. No beer I’m afraid – I should have thought of that.’
‘No, that’s fine. A gin and tonic would be lovely, thank you.’
‘Let me show you – here.’ He led her back down the corridor, turning right into the room where Abby had so often seen the light glowing from outside.
This room was painted mid blue with white cornicing, but the soft glow of two standard lamps, the pale blue blanket flung over the back of the grey fabric sofa and bold peacock print on the wall made it seem snug rather than gloomy. In one corner there was an expensive-looking office chair and a wooden desk. On it sat a closed MacBook and a Moleskine notebook, their edges perfectly aligned. Abby also noticed a sharing-sized bag of peanut M&Ms, and the thought of him crunching his way through them while he wrote made her smile.
‘Are you happy to wait here while I sort out the drinks?’ he asked.
‘Of course.’ She sank into a plush sofa cushion that was softer than it looked, while Jack returned to the kitchen. She couldn’t detect the musty smell he’d mentioned, and thought that his presence, his life in the house, must have obliterated it. He had helped the cottage breathe again.
Sitting on the back of the sofa was a small, cuddly hippopotamus. It looked old and tatty, but it still had two beady eyes and a pink tongue protruding from its mouth. Abby reached up for it, squeezing its soft fabric. She would never have pictured Jack as a cuddly toy person – not in a million years.
‘Here you go.’ He came back with their drinks and Abby hurriedly put the hippo back in its place.
Jack sat next to her, clinking his glass against her own, and Abby thought he hadn’t noticed.
‘That’s Shalimar,’ he said, pointing at the hippo. ‘I’ve had him for most of my life. The one toy that I couldn’t bear to get rid of.’
‘He’s lovely,’ Abby said. ‘Why Shalimar?’
‘My dad named him after the river in Flanders and Swann’s “Hippopotamus Song”. You know,’ he added, when Abby frowned. ‘Mud, mud, glorious mud – you haven’t heard of it?’
‘It sounds vaguely familiar. It’s certainly something I can relate to,’ she said. ‘You have to love mud to do my job – or not hate it, at least. You’ll have to play it for me.’
‘I could do that, though Flanders and Swann songs are … an acquired taste. Not the kind of music I listen to on a daily basis.’
‘And definitely not when you write,’ Abby said. ‘I remember that. No music.’
‘No. I’d forgotten I’d told you that. Oh – except, it was that first meeting, wasn’t it?’
‘Yup.’ Abby grinned at the memory. She was determined not to be awkward or hesitant tonight. They were simply two people getting to know each other, looking for a badger together. It sounded ludicrous, but it was the truth. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t get to talk to you at the murmuration event,’ she added. ‘I spotted you, but it was so busy afterwards. I can’t even remember what time I got home.’
‘I’m not detecting nearly enough smugness,’ he said. ‘It was a triumph, surely?’
‘It went as well as could be expected,’ Abby said, but Jack shook his head pitifully.
‘You need to blow your own trumpet more. I know you’re dogged about that place, that you’re probably already thinking about the next event, but give yourself space to take it in, to be proud of what you’ve achieved.’
‘You don’t think I’m proud of myself?’
‘You don’t show it, but of course I have no idea what’s going on inside your head.’
Thank God, Abby thought.
‘I picked up a copy of the paper,’ Jack continued. ‘It was a stellar write-up, and the photos were impressive. Has it increased footfall?’
‘It’s been two days!’ Abby said, laughing. ‘But I hope it will – lots of the people who came on the walk want to show their friends, and I’ve seen more cars in the car park at closing time, so some are obviously going to see it for themselves. I’ve spoken to Penelope about opening later for the next few weeks, so we can answer questions or direct anyone who comes specifically to see it, but she’s adamant it would be too expensive. I’ve told her I don’t mind staying later without extra pay – it’s only for another few weeks – but she still won’t do it.’
‘You don’t want to wear yourself out,’ Jack said. ‘But it seems strange that she’s so reluctant when it’s likely to help your cause.’
‘She’s properly worried, Jack. She told me—’ She stopped, remembering Penelope’s request for confidentiality.
‘What?’ Jack leaned forward, his forearm resting along the back of the sofa, fingertips touching Shalimar.
‘She said …’ Surely when Penelope had told her to keep it quiet, she had meant only from reserve staff – and obviously Octavia. Jack wasn’t the kind of person to go gossiping, even if he had people in Meadowgreen he could gossip with. ‘She hinted that she was under pressure to sell Swallowtail House, that the reserve is still costing much more than it’s making.’
‘Really? God. Leo’s never mentioned anything about the situation being that bad, and I get the impression he knows Penelope well. He said that my moving up here would be mutually beneficial, that Penelope needed a tenant, and I needed to hide away, write a brilliant book and see if I could drag my career out of the dungeon.’ He gave her a wry smile. It was the first time he’d referred to his past with any kind of humour.
‘And are you – is it going OK? You said your writing was going well?’
‘It’s all coming together. And it could be what I need; it could work. I’m aiming to be a bit more daring with this one, step out of my comfort zone. There’s still a crime to be solved, but – hopefully – it has more depth than my previous novels. And it’s the first one set outside London, which has given it a completely different feel.’
‘Central London doesn’t have many nature reserves,’ Abby said.
‘Exactly,’ Jack nodded. ‘But it’s a risk, and if it’s a flop then the press will have a field day, saying I’ve been permanently scarred by what I did, my conscience coming back to bite me. It’s a sorry situation and makes me wonder why I got into it in the first place.’
‘Because you love writing?’ Abby suggested. ‘Working on the reserve isn’t always comfortable; it can be cold and damp, you can get bitten by mosquitos in the summer or end up waist deep in mud, but I wouldn’t do anything else.’
‘But none of those things are of your own making,’ Jack said. ‘They’re accepted side effects of working with nature. I was stupid. All of this could have been avoided so easily.’ He let out a frustrated sigh. ‘Anyway, this isn’t round two of the pity party, this is badger watch. Shall we set up after dinner?’
‘Sounds good.’ Abby sipped her gin and tonic, her fizzing nerves given a respite when Jack went to dish up the food. He returned with wine and glasses, poured two large measures and disappeared again, coming back with steaming bowls of chilli and rice, the soured cream and cheese separate so Abby could add them herself. He placed everything on the glass coffee table.
‘I didn’t think this through,’ he said. ‘The dining room is full of things I brought with me and haven’t bothered to unpack. I started clearing it this afternoon, but the table is pretty rickety. I thought laps would be safer, if not exactly good host behaviour.’
‘Laps are fine,’ Abby said. ‘You don’t have to stand on ceremony with me. Being here is enough.’
It was a couple of seconds before she realized what she’d said. Jack was sprinkling cheese onto his dinner, not meeting her eye. Being here was enough what? She cringed inwardly, and ate a mouthful of chilli.
‘This is delicious. Do you do much cooking?’
‘I ate out a lot in London,’ he said, ‘so I’ve had to get back into the habit since I’ve been here and being on your own makes it awkward sometimes. It’s nice, sharing food with someone. It’s a long time since I’ve done that – apart from the chips in the Skylark, of course.’
‘Of course,’ Abby said. ‘You weren’t … attached, before this, back in London?’
‘Not for a while now.’ He winced as if that, too, held painful memories.
‘Are you lonely?’ she asked.
He shrugged. ‘I’m a writer, so time alone is productive, but of course I wouldn’t choose to live a hermit’s existence. When I moved up here it felt like a suitable punishment that I kept alive by being furious about everything – walkers, pheasants, forthright women turning up on my doorstep.’ He gave her a quick smile. ‘More recently it’s been difficult, not being able to call on my friends on a rainy afternoon and go to the pub. What about you? I know you have Raffle, and that you’re close to Rosa and the others, but the village isn’t that big. Do you ever feel isolated?’
Abby finished her mouthful, taking her time before answering. ‘I love it here,’ she said, her pulse thrumming even though she was the one who’d brought the subject up. ‘And I don’t mind being single. In some ways, it’s a lot simpler. That sounds awful, doesn’t it? Like I’m uncaring, but it’s not that. There are things in my past … family traits that I don’t want to emulate or go looking for.’
Jack left his fork in his bowl, the food momentarily forgotten. ‘Like what?’
Abby closed her eyes. She hadn’t meant to be this frank with him tonight, to travel down this path. ‘My mum and dad had a very turbulent relationship,’ she settled on. ‘I used to escape into the fields at the back of our house and spend hours there, looking for birds and butterflies, staying out of their way. Mum always told me they were just passionate about each other, but as I grew up, I realized it wasn’t healthy, the way they were. My dad, particularly.’
‘Your bad memories,’ Jack whispered, piecing it together instantly. ‘Was it ever physical?’
Abby put her plate on the coffee table. ‘Sometimes,’ she admitted. ‘Especially towards the end. Mum was the main target, but sometimes I got in the middle. They divorced when I was fifteen.’ She stared at her knees. ‘I’m worried that I might – that things will repeat themselves. I’ve made some bad decisions with previous relationships.’
Jack didn’t speak for so long that she wondered if he was working out how to ask her to leave. Instead, he placed his hand lightly over hers. ‘I’m so sorry, Abby.’
‘It’s not your fault.’
‘And yet here you are, telling me something so personal, and difficult, something that has affected your whole life, and all you know about my past is that I’m like him, that I was capable of—’
‘No, Jack, I don’t think – I mean, I don’t know you, really, but …’
He looked troubled, weary, suddenly, his forehead crumpled in a frown.
‘I don’t believe you’re like that,’ she continued. ‘It’s hard to explain, but I … I’ve seen first-hand what leads to violence, I’ve sensed it, balled up inside my dad, so I was always on tenterhooks, ready to rush out of the back door if I needed to get away. I don’t feel that with you, not remotely. Not even knowing that you did it that one time.’
She saw his Adam’s apple bob. ‘It was the biggest mistake of my life,’ he said. ‘I’ve regretted it ever since, which I know is no excuse. But you don’t trust yourself not to follow your parents’ path? You can be sure about me, who you’ve known for all of five minutes, but you don’t you think you know yourself that well? Abby, you are one of the kindest, most thoughtful people I’ve ever met. You’re prepared to look beyond someone’s history, to really see them for who they are, but you’re also confident and questioning, you don’t suffer fools gladly. I cannot imagine you making a bad decision.’
She felt a lump form at the back of her throat. ‘But I have in the past. What if I make the same mistakes again?’
Her words hung in the air, the insinuation that he was one of those mistakes. But Jack was different. To Darren, to her father, to anyone she’d met.
‘I don’t mean …’ She sighed. ‘I’m sure about this. I want to be here, Jack. With you, and the badger.’ She smiled, trying to lighten the mood.
‘And I can’t think of anyone I’d rather spend tonight with, even if I had the choice of all my friends and family in London.’
‘That’s only because none of them would care about your nocturnal wildlife.’
‘Well, of course there’s that, but it is also my birthday.’
‘What?’ she sat up straight. ‘Really?’
‘Thirty-four today. Happy birthday Jack Westcoat; what a year you’ve had,’ he said dryly, topping up their wine glasses.
‘I’m glad I brought cake then, but you should have told me before!’
‘There was no reason to, but I am glad you’re here. Even if – God, I’m sorry, Abby. If I’d had any idea about your dad, about what you’d been through, I never would have—’
‘What? Sent me a note at the reserve, forcing me to come out and see you? Driven me home that night, taken me for coffee, let me go with you to Swallowtail House? I have to have the opportunity to make up my own mind about people. If I let everyone else dictate my life, then I’ll never get it right.’
He shook his head. ‘You’re worried about being in harm’s way again, and yet you’re trusting your instincts about me, despite what you’ve read in the press. Why do I get the benefit of the doubt? What makes me different to your previous bad decisions? If it’s because you’re consciously putting what happened behind you, as you told me to do, then doesn’t that prove you’re stronger now, that you don’t need to worry about the past repeating itself anymore?’
She couldn’t respond, a wave of emotion threatening to overwhelm her. How could he be so open about it, and call her out on her contradictions without blinking? She inhaled quickly, and it came out as a gasp.
‘Abby.’ He lifted his hand to her cheek, his thumb grazing her cheekbone. It felt like a lit match against her skin. His expression was tender, but there was something determined about it too. ‘You need to know that I would never—’
The doorbell rang.
Jack dropped his hand. ‘Who the hell?’
Abby sat back on the sofa, her heart pounding, as he went to answer the door. She could see him open it but not who was beyond, and then there was a loud, familiar voice and Abby closed her eyes. Octavia.
‘Oh Jack, we heard about your badger vigil and thought we’d bring supplies! Crisps and popcorn, some of that delicious local cider – you must have tried it by now, but if not, tonight’s your lucky night!’
Octavia bustled into the living room and did a visual sweep of their food bowls, the wine glasses, and the dip in the sofa where, until moments before, Jack had been sitting beside her.
‘Octavia, what are you doing here?’ Abby asked.
‘I’ve come to join the hunt, and I’m not the only one.’ Rosa and Jonny stepped into the room, Rosa giving her a bashful wave, Jonny nodding hello. Jack stood in the doorway, his arms folded, and Abby was treated to the scowl she had got to know so well but hadn’t seen for a while.
The greetings were stilted, and Jack stood aside, slightly stunned as Octavia took control, rooting through the kitchen cupboards, finding crockery and glassware.
‘Hope we’re not interrupting anything?’ she asked brightly, carrying a tray with five glasses full of amber, sparkling liquid into the living room.
‘Oh no,’ Jack said. ‘Of course not.’
After Octavia had spent half an hour telling Jack about the chapel library and extolling his virtues and the impact he would have on the place – with a few digs thrown in Abby’s direction that she should have already suggested the idea to him – Abby convinced them that they needed to move into the kitchen. She took the night-vision scope out of her bag and helped Jonny set it up. He was more embarrassed than any of them, and she wondered how Octavia had convinced him to come in the first place. She turned off the light and then, leaving the three of them peering out at the garden, took Jack’s hand and pulled him down the corridor to the living room.
‘I’m so sorry,’ she said. ‘I had no idea they would turn up.’
‘How did they even know about it? Did you tell them you were coming?’
‘I didn’t need to. The problem, when you leave a letter for me at the reserve, is that I barely ever get to open it alone. And considering your first one was a complaint, everyone, including Penelope, is always extra keen to know what you’re going to say next.’
Jack’s eyes widened. ‘So, all my messages to you, they’ve been read by everyone at the reserve?’
‘Most of them,’ Abby said. ‘I managed to squirrel a couple away before anyone else saw them.’
‘God.’
She could see the flicker of a smile threatening to break free. ‘What?’
‘I was just thinking of some of the things I almost wrote.’ His voice was low, and Abby’s skin prickled. She wanted desperately to ask him what he’d nearly written, but knew that if he told her, even if he was making it up, even if what he said wasn’t remotely seductive, she couldn’t listen to that deep, amused voice for much longer without taking drastic action.
‘Jack Westcoat,’ she said, mock-shocked.
‘Abby Field?’ He took a step towards her, which was more of a shuffle because there was barely space between them as it was. She inhaled his heady scent, and found her fingers reaching out to take hold of his, testing that connection before she dared make another, deeper one. He bent his head towards her and she held her breath, replaying his words in her mind: Why do I get the benefit of the doubt? She could spend hours answering that question, but as his lips found hers, and his hand cupped the back of her head to bring her closer, all her thoughts dissolved to nothing. She pressed herself against him, slid her hands up his back as his kiss went deeper.
He pulled away, and then brushed his lips across her cheek, kissing her earlobe, her jaw, her neck. He whispered her name against her skin.
She wrapped her arms around his waist, closed her eyes and—
‘Badger! There’s a badger!’
Abby jumped, almost bashing Jack’s chin with her shoulder, and as he sighed, then stepped back, his fingers trailing along her arm as if reluctant to let her go, she had time to think that if there had been a badger, Octavia’s screech would have sent it running for the hills.
She followed Jack to the kitchen where the badger, predictably, was gone.
‘Dear Lord!’ Octavia pressed a hand to her ample bosom. ‘I almost got a heart attack! And I swear it looked right at me. On a scale of one to ten, how vicious are they?’
Abby looked to Rosa for confirmation. ‘I saw it,’ she said.
‘And I got a great view through the scope.’ Jonny was grinning, his shyness momentarily forgotten. ‘I might have to get one of these.’
‘But viciousness, people?’ Octavia prompted. ‘What if I encounter it on the way home?’
‘It would run a mile,’ Abby said. ‘From anyone. They only blunder across people accidentally, and,’ she added, thinking of her own encounter, ‘they’re much more scared of us than we are of them.’
‘I’m not sure that’s true,’ Octavia replied. ‘Honestly, my loves, if I’d realized how dangerous your jobs were, I would have given you more credit.’
Abby laughed, feeling giddy at the absurdity of the situation. ‘Badgers aren’t dangerous, Octavia. They’re beautiful creatures, and I’m glad you got to see one.’
‘You missed it, though.’ She folded her arms, her eyes boring into Jack.
‘We were talking,’ he said evenly. ‘It’s not a large kitchen, and I chose to give priority to my guests.’
‘So, if Abby’s not a guest, what is she?’
‘We were finishing up a conversation from earlier, Octavia,’ Abby said, hoping the lie wasn’t obvious. ‘I’ve got more chance than most to see a badger while I’m at work, so I’m not too disappointed.’
‘Besides,’ Rosa added lightly, ‘you can always come back another night.’
‘She’d be more than welcome,’ Jack replied, and four pairs of eyes looked at him. He ducked his head and ran a hand through his hair.
‘Well, that’s me done in,’ Octavia said. ‘Come on, Abigail, I’ll walk you home.’
‘I can take her,’ Jack cut in.
Octavia patted his arm. ‘It’s no problem. You’ve had a drink, Jack, and we’re neighbours – save you the walk back on your own. And it’s getting late isn’t it, my love?’ she turned to Abby. ‘You working tomorrow? I thought so. Come on, we can all go together.’
Abby was on the verge of protesting. She wanted to stay, to be alone with Jack and continue what they had started, but whispers of their earlier conversation returned. She might not see him as violent, but the indisputable fact was that he had attacked someone. How well did she really know him? And, more importantly, could she trust herself to make the right decision? She was convinced that he wasn’t another mistake, that he was kind and trustworthy and that this evening hadn’t been an act, but hadn’t she told herself the same thing in the past? Believed her mum when she’d promised Abby that Dad had just been angry, that it was a one off and wouldn’t happen again?
And if she did put her fear aside and they started something, what would happen to Meadowsweet, and the looming possibility of Penelope having to sell Swallowtail House to pay for it? She had taken her eye off the ball for a single morning, and her boss had noticed. Could she really allow herself to give in to Jack? Because her feelings for him weren’t fleeting or dismissible, they had become all consuming, and that was something Abby didn’t know how to deal with, let alone have time for.
‘Now, Jack,’ Octavia said at the door, picking invisible fluff off his shirt. ‘You haven’t forgotten what you promised, have you?’
Jack sighed. ‘What was that, Octavia?’
‘That you will grace my humble library with your presence. I’ll be in touch with a selection of dates. So lovely to finally meet you properly. Come on, my love.’ She took Abby’s hand and pulled her gently down the path.
Abby let go and rushed back to Jack. He was standing on the doorstep, the light of the hallway behind him.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, wrapping her arms round his waist, ignoring the shiver that went through her as she felt his solid torso against her. She didn’t give him time to reciprocate, instead kissed him on the cheek and stepped back. ‘Thank you for dinner.’
His smile was resigned. ‘My pleasure. Hopefully we can try again soon, perhaps without the support party in tow?’
‘I’d like that,’ she said, despite all the reasoning she’d just done with herself. ‘Goodnight Jack – and Happy Birthday.’
‘Goodnight, Abby.’
She turned and ran back to where Octavia, Jonny and Rosa were waiting, sensing, rather than seeing Jack close the door of Peacock Cottage. When she glanced behind her, the outside light was still on. It seemed important somehow, as if it symbolized his hope that she would return.
Abby thought of all the things she had to deal with. There was the reserve, Penelope’s new warning and her own conviction, now she’d been inside the house of birds and butterflies, that she didn’t want it to end up in the hands of some faceless stranger; Jack’s growing presence in her life, her attraction getting stronger all the time, and the fact that she was unable to stay away from him, accepting every invite or chance to meet like an eager, hopeful puppy; the knowledge that he felt something for her too, that if it hadn’t been for Octavia and the others, the evening would have taken a different turn; their conflicting pasts, the way her parents had shaped hers and the fact that Jack now knew this, and could use it as a way to punish himself all over again; the realization that Octavia would corral her into helping with the library event, making use of her expertise and finding another reason for the two of them to spend time together.
Nothing was simple, or straightforward, or easy.
But spring was coming, the daffodils were creeping up through the hardened soil, and soon the woods would be awash with bluebells. Birdsong would fill the air, the robins and ducks, finches and harriers would start searching for mates, and as long as Abby did her job well, visitors would flock to see it all, to lift their faces up to the sun, smell the spring flowers and let life’s troubles drift away.
She had to do her job and forget about Jack; that was the bottom line. A few months ago, Abby wouldn’t have let anything get in the way of her event plans, risk assessments and craft activity ideas – there had been nothing more important to her than Meadowsweet’s survival. But now, even the simple joys of spring, new shoots and mating birds and fresh, burgeoning life led her thoughts back to Jack.
As Octavia took her arm and they followed the brightness of the torch’s beam through the woods, Abby thought that perhaps it was time for her to step out of the darkness and have her own chance at regrowth. But was Jack Westcoat the right person to do it with? Could a man like that, charming and sexy and warm as he increasingly was, be good for her? Her heart told her yes, but Abby knew from experience that trusting her heart didn’t always end well. And her head told her that he was solitary, scowling, so often lost in a fictional world of misery and gruesome deaths, with a troubled past and an uncertain future – one which, she was sure, had Peacock House only as a temporary solution.
No, Jack Westcoat wasn’t the easy option. He wasn’t simple or straightforward but, Abby wondered, knowing she was betraying her logical side even as she thought it, did any of that matter? Because, when it came down to it, even in the face of a failing nature reserve that threatened the jobs of her friends, the livelihood and estate of her boss, he was all she could think about.