Never Too Late (16 page)

And yet, her stubborn heart still yearned. It hungered to know the magic it would feel only in Jake’s arms, and she breathed out in defeat. Yes, she was pathetic. She didn’t exist for him beyond sex, and now it looked like she didn’t exist for him during sex either. But, if he still wanted her, she just couldn’t say no.

* * *

She didn’t feel any better about herself as she hurried to work at quarter-to-nine the next morning. On top of that, her sleep-deprived brain throbbed with every step she took in the light drizzle. She hadn’t bothered to bring an umbrella, settling instead for stuffing her curls willy-nilly into the hood of the green parka she’d thrown over her grey trouser suit. 

Both Jake and Francine had disappeared from Barrowdene sometime in the morning, leaving Nan perplexed to find the house empty. A small grateful smile touched Molly’s lips. Bless her heart, Nan had said nothing last night, not about the picnic, not about Jake. She’d limited her words to what might be troubling Francine. Molly shook her head. That was something she herself had kept quiet about. She needed to speak to Martin first. She wanted answers today.

“Molly!”

The familiar voice accompanied by the rapid click of shoes came from behind her, and she turned and waited as Sophie ran to catch up. Sophie’s face was flushed and messy strands of hair had pulled free from her thick dark braid in her rush, and she held her yellow umbrella tight up against the misty rain. 

“And where are you off to so early, Miss Sophie?” Molly asked with a smile as Sophie reached her.

Sophie took a puff of breath. “I’m covering Mrs Baxter’s music lessons at the school today.”

“She’s poorly again?”

Sophie nodded and they continued along Main Street.

“Wouldn’t it be easier for the school and Mrs Baxter if they just let you take over full time? She’s nearly seventy.”

“You know I’d love to, but what with Dad needing someone to help with all the church admin…” Sophie shrugged. “Anyway, why were you going so fast? You’re not late for work.”

“I need to catch Martin early about something. Though… now that I think about it, maybe a leisurely stroll is what I need. I’ve been letting too many things get at me since yesterday.”

“Well, I might have news that’ll make you feel better. Brian and Abby are leaving for London tomorrow.”

“Really?” Molly stared at her for a moment, then hooted with glee. “Yes! That makes me feel great. I hope they’re staying there? Never ever coming back?”

Sophie pulled a face. “I’d love to say yes, but I honestly don’t know what their plans are.”

“Oh my god, Sophie! Even you want rid of them.”

Somehow, Sophie managed to look both contrite and defiant at the same time. “I know I should be more accommodating, especially since Abby is our guest, but the arguments, Molly!” She shuddered. “These past few days have been unbearable. I’ve had to lock myself in the music room at times.”

“Brian and Abby arguing?” Molly’s eyes widened. “It’s that bad? But I thought you’d be used to ear-splitting shrieking what with Anna and Kitty always at each other’s throats.”

“It’s not just the shouting. The icy silences are the worst. And I get to be piggy in the middle, since Anna yells back at them and Kitty turns any conversation around to her own dating woes.”

“Poor you.” Molly bit her cheek to stop herself laughing. “I can see why you want them gone. But why are they fighting so much? I thought Brian would be… er… careful not to upset Abby.”

Sophie sighed. “Things really took a turn for the worse when Dad announced he couldn’t schedule in their wedding for another six months.”

“That’ll take them into next year. I didn’t realize the church had so many functions booked.”

“It doesn’t.”

Frowning, Molly shot her a questioning glance. 

“I manage the bookings calendar, Molly. Christmas and New Year are busy, but there’s plenty of slots between September and November for a wedding, and with a license they could have one within two weeks.”

“Then why…?”

“He’s stalling them. Mum suspects it, because she’s constantly nagging him and me to show her the bookings, but you know Dad, he won’t budge once he’s made up his mind about something.”

“But, doesn’t he want them to get married?”

Sophie shrugged. “He told me they were in too much of a hurry, and the way things have been between Brian and Abby lately, I’m inclined to agree with him and make them wait a bit.”

The lane to the school came up, and they stopped.

Sophie turned to her. “Listen, we’re planning a trip to Halstead tomorrow, just us girls, since it’s Abby’s last day here. You should come.”

“I doubt Abby needs another reason to get mad at Brian, and she’s probably been hearing all sorts of gossip about me and him. I should stay away.”

“I’m sure she knows better than to listen to such talk. But, I’d love it if you were there, and it would bring the colour back to your cheeks.” Sophie gave her a quick hug. “I’ll drop by the office tomorrow, in case you change your mind.” And with a wave she walked off down the school lane.

Molly resumed her path along Main Street. Halstead would bring colour to her cheeks all right. It would be a long time before she could visit that place again without reliving the afternoon she’d spent there with Jake. Even now the memory sent blood rushing to her cheeks.

She rounded the corner of the post office and her heart skipped a beat.

Jake’s motorbike was parked in front of their office building.

Martin! He had to be here to see Martin. And in a panic, she tore up the steps and burst into the building.

“…she has to forgive me. You can’t know how it feels. It was never in my control.” Martin’s voice, raised and full of remorse, reached her from upstairs and Molly gasped. She raced for the staircase just as Jake spoke, cold and controlled. 

“Get your act together. Francine’s made it my business now, and I’m nowhere near as patient as her, so this is your last chance to come clean. If you don’t, and she’s hurt, I’ll bury you so completely, it’ll be like you never existed.”

She reached the top step, and the door to Martin’s office was thrown open and Jake stalked out, looking like a furious Hell’s Angel in his black biking leathers. He saw her and came to an abrupt halt.

She stared at him wide-eyed, her mind a sudden blank.

A small frown creased his brow, and his lips firmed. Without a word, he brushed past her, charged down the stairs and slammed out of the building.

The bike fired up outside and roared away, and releasing her pent-up breath, she sagged against the bannister before gathering herself. Jake was angry, and she was letting it get to her as if he was angry with her, but it was Martin who needed support right now.

Going to Martin’s office, she peered around the half-open door. Martin stood facing the window, with his hands clasped behind his back and his head bowed. His shoulders had the same defeated slump she’d seen when Francine had been in his office.

She tapped on the door, and with a start he turned around.

“Ah, Molly,” he murmured. His face sagged like a crumpled piece of paper and worry was etched deep into what were usually laughter lines around his eyes and mouth.

“Martin,” she said, stepping into the room. “Tell me what’s going on. I want to help.”

He sighed. “It’s impossible. I should never have let things come to this.” He gazed at her sadly. “I’m sorry, Molly, so sorry that you have to see me like this. You don’t deserve to be dragged into my mess.”

“Don’t be silly. We’re friends, and if there’s anything I can do, you just need to say.” She gave a hopeful smile. “Nothing’s that terrible, that it can’t be fixed. Nan always says, anything can be put right with enough love and patience.”

“Yes. Yes, there are things I need to put right.” 

His expression became thoughtful and she nodded in encouragement, grateful to see the glimmer of light in his eyes. 

He stooped and picked up his case from beside the desk. “If you could hold down the fort for me, Molly, that would be help a plenty.” And with a purposeful air, he strode past her and out of his office.

“Where are you going?” She hurried after him.

“I’m not entirely sure.”

He was already half-way down the stairs, and the now slightly manic faraway gaze in his eyes alarmed her. 

“Wait, Martin. Maybe Belinda can help. I really think you should go home and speak to her.”

“Ha! That’s the last place I’d go.” He yanked the front door open and turned to her. “Don’t worry, Molly. I’ll do the right thing.”

He stepped out of the building, and she rushed to the door just in time to see him get into his dark-green Jaguar sedan and screech away.

She threw her hands up in frustration.

Had she just made things worse? God, he didn’t even know where he was going. Damn Jake. If he hadn’t barged in, none of this would have happened. She would have spoken to Martin and they would have figured out a calm solution to whatever was haunting him. All she could do now was hope Martin returned later in the day safe and in one piece.

* * *

She was livid when she reached Barrowdene after five in the evening. The whole day had been Jake’s fault.

Martin hadn’t returned, and the two calls she’d made to his mobile phone just before she left the office had gone straight to voicemail.

She headed through the kitchen garden towards the back door of the main house, her mind dishing up wild scenarios of a distracted Martin steering his car off the road and lying hurt in a ditch somewhere. Sure, she was over-reacting, but she still wanted to yell at Jake for setting all this off in the first place. He could have handled Martin with a bit more tact today.

Nan was in Barrowdene’s kitchen happily preparing sandwiches.

“Where’s Jake?” Molly asked, shrugging out of her parka and throwing it over a chair.

“Upstairs.” Nan placed the last sandwich on the plate and studied her. “Is everything all right? You look hopping mad.”

Molly gritted her teeth. “I’m fine. I just need to speak to him.”

“Then take these up to him.” Nan handed her the plate filled with ham, cheese, and pickle sandwiches. “He didn’t want to stop work to have dinner, so I said I’d make him sandwiches instead.”

With a small frown, Molly took the plate and headed out of the kitchen into Barrowdene’s old, but pretty hallway. How lovely that Jake had someone like Nan to care for his every little need when the way he treated others would leave a T-rex hiding its face in shame.

She went up the ornate curling staircase to the first floor landing, where the dull clang of two metal pots clashing came from one of the small bedrooms at the far end. Those rooms had lain unfurnished and closed off for years. What work could he be doing in there by himself? Brimming with curiosity, she walked over, her footsteps muffled by the landing’s carpet, only to stop and stare just outside the open bedroom door, her anger a distant memory.

Jake stood next to the tall window, his back to her, a tray of paint in one hand, and a brush in the other as he reached up on bare toes to paint a soft lavender high up on the wall. It was the exact colour she’d suggested for this room that had always been used as a nursery. Her breath caught in her throat as his powerfully built body stretched, pulling his white t-shirt and paint-splattered jeans over his well-built form. The muscles in his arm worked in beautiful elegance as he painted with slow, controlled strokes, and her fingers tingled at the memory of how he’d felt to her touch.

She must have made a sound because he turned and grinned on seeing the plate she held in front of her. “Just in time. I was getting hungry.”

Heat swooshed up her face as she snapped back to the present, and she held the plate out with a frown. “Nan didn’t want you to starve.”

“That’s good of her,” he said, coming and taking the plate from her. “Though I’m suspecting you’d be more than happy to let me starve from the look on your face.” Biting into a sandwich, he sauntered back to the wide windowsill and sat down, gesturing for her to sit beside him. “Want to talk about it?”

She hung back, her rush of anger a little deflated. She’d planned on barging in here and confronting the same enraged Jake from this morning, but here he was, inviting her to sit down and bare her grievances like an amiable therapist. 

“How’s the room?” he asked, his head cocked to the side as he regarded her. “Does the colour satisfy your exacting standards?”

Walking into the middle of the room, she glanced around. He’d been busy. Three walls were completely coated in soft lavender, and the fourth one nearly finished, and the light from the window bounced off the brilliant white ceiling and cornices. 

“It’s lovely. Better than I expected, and so bright.”

He grinned. “I figured I’d take your advice and keep this room as a nursery. You’re right. This colour should suit a boy or a girl.”

The thought of babies playing in this room stirred up an ache of longing deep inside her. But they wouldn’t be Jake’s babies. It would be a new family, and he’d be long gone. “What’s the rush? I thought you were leaving the painting to the decorators.”

He finished off another mouthful of sandwich and shrugged. “They’re not due to start until after the builders finish, and since this room doesn’t need any structural work, there’s no need to wait.”

“When do the builders start?”

“Tomorrow.”

So soon? Time was like water slipping through her fingers and she couldn’t hold on to it. “But… what about Francine?”

His eyebrows rose. “What about her?”

“This is still her house. Is she okay with the renovations starting so soon?”

“As of today, it’s my house.” His tone was nonchalant. “Francine’s gone up north, to the Lake District. Her parents used to live there apparently.”

“That’s why you threatened Martin this morning,” she said, her eyes widening in understanding. “It’s because you own Barrowdene now.” She looked at him in earnest. “But Martin’s not like you think. He’s not… bad.”

“What do you know about this?” He lounged back against the window frame, his eyes hooded. 

“I… Martin didn’t say
exactly
what… but… you could have been a little more understanding today. And now he’s gone who knows where, and that’s not good for anyone. If the money is all you care about, then you’re not going to get it back with threats.”