Forty Things to Do Before You're Forty Page 8

  ‘Goodness, I’m so glad I caught you,’ she puffed, a great air of purpose accompanying her perfume as Annie opened the door. ‘I know you’re closing, darling, but I just wanted to let you know that, where Jake’s concerned, I have it all in hand.’

  Annie gawped, not daring to enquire which part of Jake Lydia had in hand.

  ‘Alison Stevens told me all about his accident this morning,’ she ploughed on. ‘And I dashed straight over to the manor to make sure the poor lamb had everything he needed. I had to cancel my manicure but I told them it was an emergency. “The community has to pull together in times of crisis,” I said, and I wouldn’t want anyone saying I don’t play my part.’

  Annie’s jaw dropped.

  ‘Anyway, I picked up something very nice for Jake’s lunch and have something extra special planned for dinner.’

  With a meaningful wink, she then turned on her six-inch heel and tottered off from whence she came, before Annie could utter a single word.

  *

  In his writing room at Buttersley Manor, Jake sat at the desk, one hand supporting his chin, the other holding his mobile away from his ear as Tanya launched into another of her daily soliloquies on why “he really should consider the film studio’s offer”. Seemingly, his reluctance served only to fuel their interest. Each day they upped their offer, and each day Jake declined it.

  ‘Look, Jake, they’re not going to hang around forever,’ puffed Tanya. Since her original call her tone had slid from excited, to optimistic, to hopeful, to exasperated, and was now just plain desperate. ‘We need to give them a final answer.’

  Jake released his chin, leaned back in the chair and raked his free hand through his hair. ‘I’ve given my final answer, Tanya. Several times. It is, and it will remain, an emphatic “no thank you”.’

  The sigh that whooshed down the phone almost blew him away. He suspected she may be quietly counting to ten before she spoke again.

  ‘Look, Jake, an offer like this only comes along once in a lifetime. If you’re lucky. I know authors who would give their right arm for an opportunity like this.’

  ‘Only the left-handed ones, I’d bet.’ His attempt at humour met with resonating silence. ‘Look, Tanya, I’m really sorry and incredibly flattered but all I want to do is write my books.’

  ‘But you can continue to write,’ she said, an edge of hysteria creeping in. ‘And sell your books by the thousands. Hundreds of thousands. Don’t you want Martin Sinclair to be a household name?’

  ‘Frankly no.’

  Another brief pause. Another shuddering sigh.

  ‘Look,’ she said at length, ‘why don’t you come down here and we can discuss it properly? Or I could come up to Scotland if you prefer.’

  Jake swatted away both suggestions. ‘I can’t come to London because I’ve sprained my ankle and there’s no point you going to Scotland because I’m not there. Now, if you want this next book any time soon, I really must press on. Goodbye.’

  He threw down the phone and reached for his painkillers. He didn’t know which was the bigger pain – his ankle or Tanya. He couldn’t blame her for trying, he supposed. The film deal would make a huge difference to her CV – and, no doubt, her annual bonus. But even Tanya’s impressive tenacity wouldn’t work on Jake. There was no way on earth he would consider accepting the offer. No way at all.

  The phone rang again.

  He flicked his eyes skyward before looking at the screen. If it was Tanya again he wouldn’t answer it.

  It wasn’t Tanya. It was Nina’s mother.

  Now that would be a different conversation altogether.

  ‘So what’s this I hear about one of Jasper’s old mates staying in the castle?’ asked Portia.

  This was the second call in a matter of days, from which Annie surmised that her friend was in desperate need of some light relief. Portia rarely spoke about her work, and Annie never asked.

  ‘Yes, one of Jasper’s mates is staying in the castle,’ she confirmed. ‘Much to Lydia’s delight.’

  ‘I’m not surprised,’ said Portia. ‘If I remember correctly, he was really good-looking.’

  Annie didn’t reply.

  ‘You fancy him!’

  I do not.’ Despite the accusation being hurled from thousands of miles away, Annie still blushed scarlet.

  ‘Yes you do. If you didn’t, you would have said something there.’

  ‘When there?’

  ‘When I said he was good-looking. Have you slept with him?’

  ‘Of course I haven’t.’

  ‘Snog?’

  ‘No. And I don’t intend to either. He might be good-looking but my interest in him is purely professional. I had to take him to the hospital yesterday. He’s sprained his ankle.’

  ‘Perfect opportunity for you to dress up in your nurse’s uniform then. Wasn’t that on the list of things to do before you’re forty?’

  ‘Somehow I doubt it,’ said Annie.

  ‘Then you have my permission to add it on.’

  ‘I’ll do it right away. Oh … and guess who’s emailed me.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Lance.’

  ‘Lance? What does he want?’

  ‘I have no idea but he must be up to something.’

  ‘What did he say?’

  ‘Nothing really. Just hello and looking forward to seeing you both.’

  ‘Did you reply?’

  ‘No, I deleted it.’

  ‘Good girl.’

  In the life of a five year old child, the Buttersley Annual Fair was not an insignificant event. Indeed, Annie discovered that it was significant enough to cause her daughter three sleepless nights. By the time the appointed day arrived, Sophie’s excitement was orbiting the earth.

  ‘Will you please sit still,’ pleaded Annie, trying to plait the child’s hair as she sat on the edge of her bed.

  ‘Sorry, Mum.’ Sophie folded her arms and clamped them over her chest. ‘Can we take Pip to the fair?’

  ‘If you want to,’ said Annie, finally tying off the second pigtail. ‘Now, what are you going to wear?’

  ‘Please can I wear my pumpkin outfit?’

  ‘I don’t really think that’s appropriate, sweetheart.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘How about your shorts and T-shirt?’

  ‘No thank you. What about my ladybird outfit? Is that appropriate?’

  ‘Not particularly. But if you really want to …’

  ‘I really do, Mum. And the wings.’

  Annie didn’t know what it was about the Buttersley village fair, but every year the sun unfailingly shone on it. Evidently the sun, as well as everyone else involved, dared not disobey the orders of the formidable organising committee.

  The venue for the event was a buttercup-strewn meadow leading down to the river, on the outskirts of the village. It was England at its most quintessential and Annie loved it. She also loved that there wasn’t a dodgem car, a waltzer, or a flashing beeping light in sight. The formidable committee maintained that the fair’s traditional values were the secret of its success and Annie agreed.

  As they threaded their way through the gathering, bumping into various friends and acquaintances, Sophie compiled her plan of attack, which was then dutifully followed. She rode a donkey, joined in the Morris dancing, acquired a stitch laughing at the Punch and Judy show, and managed a grand total of four in the Hook-a-duck. Her prize of a plastic silver crown was readily added to the ladybird outfit.

  En route to the coconut shy, next on her list, Sophie suddenly squealed with excitement.

  ‘Look, Mum, there’s Mr Sinclair.’

  Annie’s spirits nosedived. Damn. Just when they’d been having such a lovely time, Jake had to appear – no doubt with Nurse Lydia in tow. Steeling herself, she turned her head in the direction Sophie had indicated and immediately spotted Jake – wearing long khaki shorts, a white V-necked T-shirt, and a pair of trendy sunglasses. He was alone and appeared to be hobbling towards the coconut sh
y, which meant there’d be no way of avoiding him. Unless she invented some fabulous excuse why the coconuts would have to wait; an excuse Sophie couldn’t possibly argue with. Tricky, but not impossible. Watching him, though, as he limped along, the muscles in his arms clearly defined as he rhythmically shifted his weight on and off the crutches, Annie found the formation of excuses, fabulous or otherwise, superseded by a desperate longing to know what it would feel like to have those strong arms around her, pressing her into that broad chest. To slide her hands up his T-shirt and–

  ‘Is Mr Sinclair in fancy dress too?’

  Clattering back to the here and now, it took Annie several seconds and a great deal of brain power to realise what Sophie was referring to. Oh. Of course. Jake’s crutches. She bit back a smile. ‘No, sweetheart. Mr Sinclair has sprained his ankle. The crutches keep his weight off it so it will heal quicker.’

  Sophie furrowed her little brow. ‘I think he looks funny. Please can I go and show him my crown?’

  Before Annie could reply, her daughter bounded over to Jake, ladybird wings afluttering.

  Annie remained where she was, gathering her wits. Right. All she had to do now was calmly follow her daughter and, upon reaching her destination, completely ignore any beautifully defined muscles or broad chests – which may or may not be splendidly showcased in white T-shirts. Condensing the required action into such a concise form reassured her. She could do that. Easily. Why, in the four days since she’d taken Jake to the hospital, she had scarcely spared him, or his biceps, or his chest, a thought. Apart from the time she’d been washing up in her kitchen and her gaze had strayed to his writing room. Or the time she’d been in the garden and caught sight of the open downstairs window. And admittedly, he had popped into her head each time she’d baked a batch of chocolate chip cookies. Other than that, she really hadn’t thought about him at all.

  Her intention to move not yet fully transmitted to her legs, Annie remained rooted to the spot as she watched a bouncing Sophie exchange excited chatter with Jake. All at once, they both turned to look at her. As Jake’s gaze met hers and he broke into another of his easy smiles, a swarm of butterflies began fluttering in Annie’s stomach. Honestly. She really would have to be more prepared for those smiles. They had the ability to knock a girl right off her feet. Thankfully, though, she was still standing – just. What she needed, to put an end to her ever increasing nerves, was a large dash of the anger that had fuelled her the night she’d taken him to hospital. She cast her mind back to Lydia’s ‘Jake and I …’ speech. The result was as instantaneous and as effective as she’d hoped. Tilting up her chin, Annie pulled back her shoulders and took a deep breath in. With a grip on her emotions, she prepared to face the enemy. Well, okay, he wasn’t quite an enemy, more of a thorn in her side, but that didn’t sound quite so dramatic. Anyway, whatever he was, she was ready. With her head high, she took two steps forward, before tripping over Pip’s lead and landing, with a thud, flat on her face on the ground.

  In a flash, she scrambled to her feet, disentangled the lead and brushed herself down, hoping all the while nobody had noticed.

  As if.

  ‘Mum, are you okay?’ asked Sophie, suddenly appearing at her side.

  Annie affected a breezy tone. ‘Yes, darling. I just tripped over Pip’s lead, that’s all.’

  ‘I know.’ Sophie burst into a fit of giggles. ‘You looked ever so funny. You flew right through the air. Like in the cartoons. Mr Sinclair said you looked like a rocket.’

  ‘Did he?’ muttered Annie through gritted teeth.

  ‘Only when we could see you weren’t hurt,’ confessed Jake, appearing alongside Sophie. ‘For a moment there, I thought we might need another pair of crutches.’

  ‘Thankfully not,’ said Annie, a cocktail of mortification and indignation coursing through her. Looking defiantly at his sunglasses, she added, ‘As you can see, I’m perfectly fine.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Jake. ‘You are.’

  Annie’s jaw slackened and her heart skittered. Had she imagined it, or had his voice dropped an octave with that last statement? And had he looked at her just a fraction longer than necessary? But no, she was being silly. That would mean he had implied – which he most certainly hadn’t. And anyway, because of his sunglasses, she couldn’t possibly tell if he’d been looking at her or – The near-dislocation of her arm from its socket rudely interrupted her analysis. It was Pip, straining at the lead to greet his new friend.

  Jake’s attention shifted from Annie to the dog. ‘Hello, little fella. Are you having a good time?’

  Pip replied by licking Jake’s bare shin. Her mind still scrutinising his previous comment, Annie swallowed hard, resisting the urge to do the same.

  ‘Mr Sinclair is going to win me a balloon at the coconut shy,’ piped up Sophie.

  ‘I’m going to try,’ said Jake. ‘If that’s okay with your mum.’ Two questioning eyebrows appeared above the rim of his sunglasses.

  Banishing all thoughts of fanciful compliments and shin licking, Annie mustered her scraps of remaining dignity. ‘I suppose so,’ she said coolly.

  ‘Great.’ As Jake lifted his sunglasses off his nose and pushed them back into his hair, Annie noted the dark shadows beneath his eyes. He looked exhausted. Hardly surprising, given Lydia’s ‘care and attention’, she concluded, with a pang of something she really didn’t want to identify.

  ‘Shall we?’ he asked.

  Annie jumped slightly, realising she was staring at him. Shall we? Shall we what? Her gaze dropped to his shins again. Surely he didn’t mean –

  ‘Coconuts,’ he clarified, the corners of his mouth curling up in such a sensuous manner that her toes followed suit.

  ‘Oh, yes, of course,’ she blustered, inwardly cringing as colour crept into her cheeks. ‘Coconuts. Right.’

  The three of them, and a delighted Pip, made their way to the shy where a great deal of raucous activity ensued. At least, raucous activity ensued on Jake and Sophie’s part. Annie spent all her time trying not to drool over Jake’s biceps as he aimed the balls at the unsuspecting coconuts. Despite his crutches, he managed to win not only a balloon, but also a teddy bear and a huge bag of sweets. Much to Sophie’s delight.

  ‘Look, Mum, there’s Jessica from school,’ gushed Sophie, laden down with her booty. ‘Please may I show her our prizes?’

  ‘Okay,’ said Annie. ‘But don’t be too long. We’re going to have something to eat soon.’

  ‘Hot dogs?’

  ‘With onions.’

  ‘Yay,’ exclaimed Sophie, before bounding over to her friend.

  ‘She’s a fantastic kid,’ said Jake, as they watched Sophie chattering with her friend. ‘You’ve done a great job. You should be very proud.’

  The wistful note in his voice caused something to twist in Annie’s stomach. She turned her head to him. He was staring at a spot on the ground with the same sad expression she’d noticed the first time he’d been in her kitchen; the same sad expression she’d noticed as he’d gazed out of her car window on the way back from the hospital.

  ‘Anyway,’ he continued, visibly snapping out of whatever it was he’d been thinking about. He turned to her, a bright smile on his face. ‘I haven’t thanked you properly yet for taking me to the hospital the other night.’

  Annie’s brows snapped together. Yet again there was something in his tone she couldn’t decipher. Was he thanking her or getting a dig in because she hadn’t been to see him since? Honestly, talk about keeping you on your toes. Jake Sinclair did a better job of that than the troupe of Morris dancers. A few minutes in his company and she felt as though she’d been subjected to an emotional boot camp. The man was, frankly, exhausting. And Annie wasn’t entirely sure she had the energy – or the desire – to keep up with him.

  ‘I’m sure you had much better things to do with your evening than spend it in A&E.’

  Annie’s eyes narrowed. Huh. Well that little remark neatly mopped up any confusion. He was being
sarcastic. He and Lydia had most likely been sniggering again over her lack of social life. Well, they could both just go and –

  Before she could tell him exactly what he and Lydia could do, Jake hissed, ‘Oh no. Hide. Quickly.’

  In a flash, he hobbled to the side of the coconut shy.

  Annie heaved an exasperated sigh before following him.

  ‘What now?’ she snapped, her patience wearing.

  ‘Lydia.’

  Annie furrowed her brow. ‘Lydia?’

  Jake nodded. ‘Over there. Looking like she’s on a mission. I really can’t face her today.’

  Annie screwed up her nose. ‘But I thought you two were …’

  ‘What?’

  Despite her irritation, another flush of pink crept over Annie’s cheeks. ‘You know.’

  Jake gave an incredulous snort. ‘You don’t mean – ?’

  Annie tilted up her chin.

  Jake’s eyes grew wide. ‘Me and Lydia? Why on earth would you think – ?’ His eyes narrowed. ‘Has she been saying something?’

  Annie opened her mouth to tell him exactly what Lydia had been saying. Then promptly shut it again. She didn’t want to sound like a petulant child, nor did she want to sound as if she cared. Because she didn’t. Bar the fact that the two of them discussing her life did not sit well with her, it made absolutely no difference to her what they got up to. They were both consenting adults. They could do whatever they liked.

  Jake, however, looked completely baffled. ‘Look, is this because you saw us together at the pub quiz? Because I can assure you that was nothing like how it appeared. I was sauntering down to the pub to get something to eat, when Lydia pulled up alongside me in her car. I stupidly told her where I was heading and that I couldn’t stay long because I had a chapter to finish. So she offered to pick me up on her way back from wherever it was she was going. I insisted there was no need. But the next thing I know, there she is, trussed up like a microwave chicken, whisking me away. But all she did was chauffeur me back to the manor.’

  Annie chewed her bottom lip as she considered this information. Was he telling the truth? Since Lance, she didn’t trust a word any man said. And Lydia had sounded pretty convincing with her ‘Jake and I …’ speeches.