Twilight Song

At first she hadn’t believed that he would be happy to lay himself bare in front of an audience, but then she realized he enjoyed it – just as he’d enjoyed their sparring matches all those months ago. She was waiting for one of the almost writtens, for him to slip in something too intimate to be easily explained away. It hadn’t come yet, but it was a close-run thing.

Dear Abby,

Bullfinches in the garden today. I still think they’re like robins on drugs, but they are brightening up the place while the daffodils struggle to break through the frozen earth. I’d like to talk more about their finchy peep soon if possible.

Yours, JW

Dear Abby,

The tributaries have been particularly interesting today – throwing up some unexpected things. Hard to balance when you’re peering into their murky depths, I find. What about you?

Yours, JW

Dear Abby,

OP in touch today. Is it normal to be terrified about a library event? I’ve talked on much bigger stages than this one, but Octavia and her chapel library put the fear of God in me (pun intended). Will you be there to hold my hand?

Yours, JW

Abby had been lucky that Octavia hadn’t been present for that one, and Rosa had made sympathetic noises when she’d read it over her shoulder.

It was the latest one, however, which Abby couldn’t stop thinking about, and which was probably part of the reason Penelope had given her a thinly veiled talking to today, as she’d been there when it had arrived at the reserve.

Dear Abby,

I’ve been thinking a lot about our badger vigil, and what we missed out on. Are close calls such as ours normal, or is it usually more satisfying than that? It’s been on my mind.

Yours, JW

Abby knew he wasn’t talking about the badger, and Penelope wasn’t stupid; Abby was sure it was no coincidence that she had allowed Jack to come into the conversation earlier that day.

She knew she was treading on thin ground, unable to resist answering Jack’s texts at work, finding herself thinking about him and staring into space when she should have been ordering more membership forms, but she couldn’t stop. She picked up the letter she had written before Tessa arrived, and closed her front door quietly behind her. Jack would still be up, she was sure, and as she approached Peacock Cottage she was rewarded with the welcoming glow through the thin curtains of the living room window.

She tiptoed quietly up the path, slipped the note through the letterbox and hastily retreated, hurrying back towards Warbler Cottages, skirting past the tall, imposing walls of Swallowtail House. Recently, when she’d passed it, she’d had the eerie sense that the house was watching her, as if now she’d been inside she was irrevocably tied to it. In the dark, that sense was increased tenfold. She was relieved that she had Raffle with her, the husky enjoying the jog at her side, his head lifted high to sniff the night-time air.

She silently recited her note to Jack, wondering if he’d found it yet.

Dear Jack,

Close calls such as ours are, indeed, very rare, and – in this case especially – much lamented over. And to answer your earlier question, handholding is one of my specialties, but not one I give out freely. In this case, the severity of your situation makes it acceptable to offer my services. OP reminded me that it was T-minus ten days. Hold on to your hats!

Abby

PS. You will ace it, have faith in yourself. x

When she got home she distractedly put more water down for Raffle, gave him a goodnight cuddle and then got ready for bed. She stared at the dark ceiling, trying to put Jack out of her mind so she could get some sleep, but then her phone beeped, and even before she picked it up she knew who it was.

Why didn’t you knock?

Abby’s fingers hovered over the screen. Even though the truth was far from simple, she didn’t want to lie – she found that being honest with Jack was easier than it was with Penelope, Rosa and, after today, Tessa. Somehow their discouragement made her feel closer to him, as if he was the only one she could confide in.

I’m afraid of what might happen, but I do want to see you. Talk after the library event? x

The reply was almost instantaneous.

I feel the same. After the library event can’t come soon enough, for all sorts of reasons.

Abby drifted off towards sleep with a smile on her face, Tessa’s warnings and her worries about Meadowsweet temporarily forgotten.

Chapter Two

Frogspawn might look strange, like clumps of jelly, but it’s an amazing thing to have in your pond, because it means you’ll soon have lots of tadpoles, and then frogs, in the garden. You can tell the difference between frogspawn and toad spawn because frogspawn is in little clusters, and toad spawn is in long strings, like a bead necklace.

— Note from Abby’s notebook.

T-minus ten days for the library event soon became T-minus ten hours, and as Abby arrived at the visitor centre that morning, twenty minutes late and flustered, Octavia was waiting to pounce on her. Her red hair was hanging untidily over her shoulders, and her jumper was unironed.

‘Abby!’ She grabbed her sleeve and looked at her pleadingly.

‘What is it?’ Abby asked. ‘What’s happened? Has the library sprung a leak? Have you lost the key? Has Jack—’ Her voice caught at the thought that the star attraction had changed his mind. In some ways she wouldn’t blame him, but to leave it to the actual day to cancel was on the callous side.

‘Oh no,’ Octavia said. ‘Jack’s fine, the library’s fine, I’m … I’m … Abby …’ She took a deep breath. ‘There are fifty people coming tonight. Fifty. The most I’ve ever had for one of my author talks is eleven, and that’s only because it was that man up the road who does whittling, and all his cousins were visiting from America to celebrate his publication day.’

‘But that’s brilliant,’ Abby said. ‘How could that be anything other than brilliant?’

‘Because I don’t have enough chairs,’ Octavia whispered. ‘Do you think people will mind sitting on beanbags?’

Abby hesitated, wondering how this experienced woman could get to a point where she had sold tickets for an event without assessing her resources beforehand, and then decided not to be too harsh. Octavia had got carried away, and under the circumstances Abby could understand it. ‘I’ll go and see Ryan at lunchtime,’ she said. ‘I’m sure he’s got a function room somewhere with some stacked chairs. Do you know how many you’re short by?’

‘Sixteen,’ Octavia said, ‘and that’s if more people don’t turn up on speculation.’

‘I’ll sort it out,’ she said, giving Stephan a grateful grin when a cup of hot, milky tea was placed on the reception desk.

‘You’re a darling,’ Octavia said. ‘And Jack will sparkle. Nobody will care what they’re sitting on once he starts speaking.’

Abby waved her neighbour goodbye as she raced towards the car park, and sipped her tea, watching a pair of greenfinches on the feeders while the computer woke up. A few smatterings of spring rain darkened the concrete, though the sun was trying to break through. She would like nothing more than to spend the day out in the fresh air, answering questions and checking the nest boxes were secured, but she had her camping extravaganza to organize. She had submitted a formal proposal to Penelope, but her boss had been underwhelmed, and Abby had been firming up the details ever since.

She had a list of remaining suppliers to get in touch with during quiet moments and, hopefully, by the end of the day almost everything would be ready to slot into the programme she was pulling together.

She issued day passes to a group of older visitors, all of whom had matching blue baseball caps, one of them explaining that their village pub had set up a social club, and that Meadowsweet had been chosen as their next excursion.

Abby listened as they bickered good-naturedly, and then showed them a map of the reserve, pointing out the different habitats and where the star species had been seen recently. Once they were armed with all the information, they moved away from reception to reveal Jonny, looking fresh and spring-like in a red checked shirt and smart jeans.

‘Jonny, how are you?’ Abby asked. ‘Is there anything I can help you with?’

‘Is – uhm, Rosa here?’

Abby hid her smile. ‘She’s got a day off today. Did you want to see the binoculars? She’s ordered in a new, mid-price range that you might be interested in.’

‘Oh sure, thanks.’

She led him over to the Birdseye View section, which was opposite the till, and next to the storeroom and Penelope’s office. The door was ajar, and as she left Jonny perusing what must have been his hundredth pair of binoculars, she went to pull it closed. But the inner door to Penelope’s office was also open, and she could hear her voice, a mixture of hushed and exasperated, as she spoke on the phone.

‘I’m sorry, Mr Philpott, but I need more time. A few more months.’ There was a long pause. ‘No, I can’t. Not at present. We do – yes, we do.’ Another pause. ‘No. That can’t happen. You’re aware of my – yes, indeed. He’s been assisting me in those areas. But there is still time, I assure you.’

Abby hovered, the silence now so long she thought the call must have ended without a goodbye on Penelope’s part, but then she spoke again.

‘There are jobs at stake, not to mention the future of the reserve, the importance of protecting this whole area. This is bigger than you or me, Mr Philpott. No, I do understand, there’s no time for sentimentality. If it has to be the house then so be it, but I am confident that it hasn’t come to that yet. I can show you when – yes, I look forward to seeing you too. Goodbye.’

If it had been an old-fashioned phone, Abby was sure she would have heard the receiver slam into its cradle, but there was simply the small beep of the call ending, and then a sigh and a rustle of fabric as her boss shifted in her chair.

Her heart in her mouth, Abby walked slowly back to reception. Things were as bad as Penelope had suggested, if not worse, and there she’d been, rolling her eyes at having to do a formal event proposal, sneaking off to the top of the woodland trail so she could reply to Jack’s text messages without distractions, daydreaming about him as she refilled the feeders each morning. She felt sick. Her smile when the next visitors arrived was decidedly forced.

The sense of shame stayed with her all day, and to counteract it she threw a new level of determination into organizing her camping event. She stayed at work until after five, feeling guilty even as she closed down the computer and took her jacket from the storeroom.

‘Goodnight, Penelope,’ she said softly to the closed door.

It opened. ‘It’s Jack’s event tonight, isn’t it?’ Penelope looked weary, worry lines creasing her forehead, and Abby wished she could comfort her.

‘You should come,’ she said instead. ‘There’s going to be a big turnout apparently, and I’m sure he’d love to see some friendly faces in the audience.’

Penelope nodded. ‘Maybe I’ll see you there.’

‘OK.’ Abby smiled. ‘That would be great.’

It was still light as she walked home, her pace inevitably slowing as she passed Peacock Cottage. Jack’s texts had become more frequent as the day approached; they were self-deprecating and funny, overplaying his nerves in a way that she thought hid genuine anxiety. Suddenly, even thinking about him felt like a betrayal. Abby couldn’t let her mind wander anymore. She would go to the library event and support Jack, and then she would give a hundred per cent to the reserve. She would never forgive herself if it closed down with her knowing she could have done more to save it.

She arrived at the library at half past six, and it was already fuller than she had ever seen it. Ryan had come through, and there were rows of chairs set up theatre-style facing away from the main doors. Not all of them matched, some certainly looked like they had seen better days and, recently, quite a bit of woodworm – Abby hoped they wouldn’t collapse under anyone. At the front was a low, unassuming stage, which was where Octavia usually kept her displays of new releases. For tonight, it had been cleared, and there was a table with a jug of water and a glass, and one of the library’s most comfortable fabric chairs waiting to be occupied.

Abby glanced at the people already assembled. She recognized a few faces from the village, and Helen Savoury was there, flicking through a copy of one of Jack’s books, silver-rimmed glasses on her nose. Abby tried not to let panic consume her at the councillor’s presence, and looked around for a friendly face, but instead found the perfectly groomed locks of Flick Hunter. She was two seats away from Helen Savoury, her gaze going frequently to the side of the room, and Abby wondered whether Jack had invited her, or if she had discovered the event in the local press like everyone else. He hadn’t mentioned her recently, and Abby had allowed her jealousy at seeing them together to dissipate, so it was a shock to find her in the audience.

Even more now she needed to see someone she knew, and she homed in on Rosa and her corkscrew curls, sitting three rows from the front.

‘Rosa, how are you?’

Rosa stood and gave her a hug. ‘I’m good! I’ve spent a lovely day doing almost nothing, and now I get to hear the famed Jack Westcoat speak. I can’t get over how weird that night at his house was. I should never have come, but Octavia insisted that she couldn’t go alone, and Jonny and I caved in far too easily. Was he properly mad?’

Abby shook her head. ‘Not at all. If he had been, he would never have agreed to tonight. He is misunderstood a lot, I think. Especially after what happened at the Page Turner awards.’

‘You’ve got a soft spot for him,’ Rosa said gently. ‘How soft is it?’

‘Getting softer,’ she admitted. ‘It’s complicated, though. There’s the reserve, which I need to put more effort into, and Jack’s life, he’s … nothing’s simple, Rosa.’

‘Feelings get complicated when people try to deny them.’ She shrugged.

‘I wish that was all it was,’ Abby said, but the words resonated. If she gave into her feelings, stopped overthinking everything, would all the barriers between them dissolve into insignificance? ‘Anyway, tonight should be good. Jack Westcoat in one of his natural habitats. Have you seen him yet?’

‘He arrived about ten minutes ago and was immediately herded into the anti-chamber by Octavia.’ Rosa grinned.

‘Uh-oh. I’d better go and see what’s happening. Speaking of soft spots, Jonny was asking after you. I showed him that new Belkin range, but I’m not sure how taken he was.’

‘Oh?’ Rosa frowned. ‘That’s a good make. I wonder why he didn’t like them.’

‘Because they’re not you. Haven’t you noticed?’

‘What?’

‘Jonny is never going to buy anything from your shop because then he’d run out of excuses to see you, and that would break his heart.’ She squeezed her friend’s arm and then left her, lips parted and eyes wide, as if the wind had changed and she’d got stuck.

When Abby knocked and pushed open the door of the library’s small office, Jack was sitting in a chair with a cup of tea, and Octavia was behind the desk, calmly writing notes on a piece of paper. They both looked up when she walked in, Jack’s taut expression relaxing into a smile.

‘Hey,’ Abby said, allowing herself a moment to drink him in. He was wearing a simple grey shirt and smart, navy blazer, dark jeans that emphasized his long legs, and tan boots. His hair was slightly tamer than usual, and she wondered if he’d had it trimmed for the occasion and, if so, where he had gone to get it done.

‘Hi, Abby,’ Jack said. ‘Glad you could make it.’

‘Of course she was going to make it,’ Octavia replied. ‘She’s organized half the thing. Whizzing about on the Facebook page, leaflet-dropping the entire village, and solving my last-minute chair problem. Now Abby, I’ve written down a couple of questions in case nobody has any.’

Abby stifled a laugh. ‘I honestly don’t think that’s going to be a problem, do you?’

‘Be prepared. The scouts had that part right. Jack,’ Octavia turned to him, ‘obviously in the course of promoting an event like this, we don’t know who’s picked up on the fact that you’re here, but I haven’t seen any media types out there – large cameras, trench coats, anything like that.’

‘Me either,’ Abby added. ‘And I only promoted it on local Facebook pages.’

‘Exactly,’ Octavia continued. ‘But, of course, we can’t guarantee that it won’t have caught the attention of a wider audience.’

‘I understand that Octavia,’ Jack said. ‘I always knew there was potential for the press to pick up on it, but I appreciate you considering it too.’

‘Good.’ Octavia beamed. ‘Aren’t you a sweetie? The audience are going to eat you up!’

Jack laughed. ‘I hope not.’

‘Right then. Fifteen minutes to go. I’ll do a final round of checks, ensure the mic is working. Abby dear, could you stay here? You can be Jack’s fluffer.’

Jack choked on his tea, spraying a mouthful onto his jeans, and Abby stared at Octavia, trying to work out if she’d heard her right. Oblivious, the older woman swept out of the room, leaving an awkward silence behind her.

‘So …’ Abby said, heat rising up her neck.

Jack wiped at his trousers. ‘Do you think she knows what that means?’

‘On balance, I’d say yes.’ Abby sat next to him and gave him a sideways look. ‘I’m not doing it, though, if that’s what you’re wondering.’

‘I honestly wasn’t. God. Could you imagine?’

‘Octavia has a good heart,’ Abby said, trying very hard not to imagine it. ‘And a very individual way of doing things.’

‘She’s distracted me from my nerves, at least. And she’s been very kind to me, considering I wasn’t that hospitable when she came to track down the badger.’

‘That’s because she barged in unannounced. You were perfectly polite. Do you really get nervous?’ She turned to face him, her embarrassment fading.

‘I do. Nerves are healthy, and it’s been a long time since I did anything like this. The last time I was in a public arena was … that night, and so there’s more pressure than usual, a heavier weight on my shoulders despite it being off the beaten track.’

‘Octavia’s sold over fifty tickets. You’re a popular man, even in the sticks. What are you going to do? Read something from one of your books, talk about your writing?’

Jack nodded. ‘A bit of both. Then the Q&A, which I’m dreading.’

‘You’ll be fine,’ she said quietly.

‘I’m glad you’re here. Thank you for coming.’

‘Of course,’ Abby said, but her mind flashed back to the phone conversation she’d overheard. She should be at home, working on her event schedule, wracking her brains to come up with this game-changing membership initiative that had, so far, failed to materialize. She looked into Jack’s blue eyes, at his smooth, stubble-free jawline, and felt hopelessly conflicted.

‘Showtime!’ Octavia said, appearing in the doorway. ‘Ready, Jack?’

‘As I’ll ever be.’

He followed Octavia out of the room, Abby taking up the rear. When Jack walked into full view of the makeshift auditorium, the cheers and applause were enough to lift the roof. He raised a nonchalant hand, slightly bashful in the wake of so much attention, and took his seat at the table. Abby slipped into a chair against the wall, side on to the stage, as if she was an usher rather than a member of the audience. But she was at the front, her view was good, and she watched as Jack greeted everyone in his deep, smooth voice and then picked up the book that Octavia had placed on the table. It was a copy of his latest novel, The Fractured Path, the one Abby had ordered from Amazon and read in only a few days.

He riffled through to a spot marked by a bookmark and started reading.

The crowd was pin-drop quiet as his sonorous voice filled the room, the rhythm of the words gripping and comforting all at once. It was mesmerizing, and Abby found herself getting lost in it, able to remember the passage he’d chosen and its point in the book, wishing he would continue to the end, however long it took. She had to blink herself back into the present when he finished and the audience clapped once more.

Then he launched into a talk about the process of writing, the research he’d done, a particularly gruesome, no-holds barred visit to a morgue that made him realize he could never be a murderer himself, because he didn’t have the stomach for it. He was funny, humble and disarming. Abby could sense the audience warming to him, wanting to reach out and gather him close. It could have easily been an act, his public persona, except that it was how he was with her – or at least, was starting to be.

Abby could see that Rosa was rapt, councillor Savoury’s expression was a mixture of interest and affection, and Flick was smiling proudly. It was obvious that some people had noticed the television presenter; that she was on the verge of getting as much attention as Jack was. His arms moved constantly while he spoke and he smiled a lot, loosening up as the talk went on. Abby felt a surge of triumph for him that only heightened her desire. When he sat down and took a sip of water, Octavia strode onto the stage, leading the exuberant applause.

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