Never Too Late (2 page)

“Ah, Molly. Do me a favour, will you?” Ian Harrington’s owlish glasses were wonky, his salt-and-pepper hair and pointy beard ruffled, and his permanent expression of fierce surprise, fiercer than usual. “Kathleen wants to toast her nephew’s latest achievement, and I’ve been dispatched on champagne duty.” He unfolded his tall body from the floor and stood up, plonking a couple of champagne flutes on the kitchen counter, next to a large bottle. “Take these through for me please, my dear. I can’t bear the fuss.”

She groaned inwardly. Of all the people he should be asking… 

But Reverend Harrington made being oblivious into an art form. He’d probably forgotten she was ever in a relationship with Brian, let alone how much it hurt her to be here now. 

But his fierce glare pleaded with her from behind his round lenses and she gave in. “Of course, Ian.”

He beamed. “Thank you, my dear. I need to show Colonel Edwards my prize marrows before he leaves. Wouldn’t want him to suffer the impression he’s going to win at the fair this year.” He strode towards the back door. “And if my wife asks, I’m in my office, horrendously busy and not to be disturbed.” He pulled the door open and disappeared into the large back garden beyond. 

With an impatient sigh, she bent to the task of gathering champagne flutes together. Just great, but if she was quick enough, she could finish this and be out of here before bumping into Brian again. Though, from the look on Brian’s and Abby’s faces as they’d left her, she probably had plenty of time. Heat flooded her cheeks at the thought of what they must be doing upstairs right now. She shoved the image aside. She didn’t care anymore what Brian did, or who he did it with. 

Frowning, she reached into the cupboard for the last two flutes. 

“Molly, I’m so sorry. None of us had any idea about Brian and Abby.”

She straightened up, clinging to her composure as she placed the two flutes on the counter, and then turned to face her best friend. “It’s all right, Sophie.”

But Sophie Harrington’s moss green eyes brimmed with anxiety, and she nervously pushed a strand of brown-black hair back away from her pretty face. “I don’t know how mum managed to keep this so quiet—”

“He’s engaged, Sophie!” The tears Molly had held in check until now, spilled on to her cheeks. “I feel like such a fool.”

“Oh, Molly.” Sophie rushed forward and clasped her in a tight hug.

Molly slumped against her taller friend. “How could he say he still loves me, and then get engaged to her? I thought I knew what love was, but I don’t… I never did.”

“This isn’t your fault.” Sophie’s tone was fierce, then she sighed. “This relationship… it’s all so sudden.”

Agitated, Molly pulled away. “What if he was seeing her all this time he was in London?” She shook her head at her own naivety.

“Surely not. You visited him that first month he was there, didn’t you? You’d have noticed something.”

Molly grimaced. She hadn’t told Sophie, had put a brave face on it, but that weekend trip to London had been about as comfortable as jumping into a pit of vipers. She’d barely stayed on her feet the night at the club Brian had taken her to, and then was too ill to go out with him the next day. He’d shrugged it off and labelled her old-fashioned, but she’d suspected it was no joke and rather than anger him further, she’d returned to Appleby then and there, burning with embarrassment at her own uselessness. 

“I didn’t see Abby, but then, I wan’t there long enough. And whenever I called him afterwards he’d say things at work were hectic and he wouldn’t be back in Appleby for some time. The last time, he… he wanted us to take things slow, and I said I’d wait for his call.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “That’s when he said he loved me. And I believed him.”

Sophie gasped. “That stupid Brian, always so selfish. You have to forget him, Molly.”

Molly buried her face in her hands. “Oh god, Sophie. How can I? I never wanted to lose him. He’s the only man…” She raised desperate eyes to her friend. “I still love him.”

The kitchen door swung open.

“For goodness sake, Ian. How long does it take—” Kathleen Harrington stopped on seeing them. 

She was a tall stringy woman and her fussing always put Molly in mind of a finicky hen. 

Kathleen’s hypercritical gaze swept over the bottle and glasses on the counter. “Sophie, Molly, don’t just stand there. Bring those in to the reception room.”

Sophie frowned. “Mum, why didn’t you tell anyone about Brian’s engagement?”

“I wanted it to be a surprise,” Kathleen said, looking affronted.

“But surely you must have thought Molly would want to know.”

“Don’t fuss, Sophie!” Kathleen shot her eldest daughter a stern glance, before smiling placatingly at Molly. “Now, Molly, I know you and Brian were close this past year, but you weren’t really in touch for a few months and these things die out.”

Molly gritted her teeth. The nerve of the woman to make assumptions. “Did he tell you that? That things had died out for us?”

“Of course not. But to tell the truth, I never could see what the two of you had in common. You were both like apples and oranges really.” Kathleen gave a dismissive shrug. “Anyway, that’s all water under the bridge now. A good looking girl like you won’t be lacking in eligible suitors for long, and it would be churlish of us not to be happy for Brian and Abby.”

“But who is she, exactly?” Sophie asked. “And don’t you think this
engagement
is a little quick?”

“Abby’s a sweet girl, Sophie, and I want you and your sisters to take good care of her. Her father owns the investment company Brian works for, so we want to show her that we’re not all living in the sticks up here.” Kathleen paused, looking smug. “And I must admit, it is quite a match for our Brian.”

“I knew I heard someone say my name.”

He’d changed his clothes. Gone was the cool city man, and there in the kitchen doorway stood the Brian she knew so well, casual in jeans and a fitted grey t-shirt, his dark hair tousled, and a carefree smile on his face.

Molly simmered in silent anger, not letting her thoughts travel to what might have put him in such a relaxed mood.

Kathleen smiled at her nephew. “Brian, how’s Abby?”

“A bit worn out.” He said with a smirk. He strolled up to the kitchen counter, picked up the champagne bottle and examined it.

Kathleen tutted. “Yes, of course. Quite understandable, the poor dear. The two hour drive from the city can be exhausting. Do you think she might join us once she’s rested?”

“Sure.” He put the bottle down and turned his attention fully on Molly.

Molly stared back, silently daring him to say anything to her.

“Yes. Well.” Kathleen fluttered over and picked up the champagne bottle. “Sophie help me with these glasses.”

With a worried glance in Molly’s direction, Sophie gathered up several champagne flutes, and hurried out of the kitchen after her mother.

Brian’s gaze dropped to roam over Molly’s silk dress. “You look beautiful, Molly. I’m glad you’re here. Coming home wouldn’t be the same without seeing you.”

She sucked in a sharp breath. “Believe me, Brian, if it hadn’t been for your aunt’s conniving today, I wouldn’t be within a mile shot of you.”

“She must have thought it would be easier on Abby to meet you here.” A small smile touched his lips. “Saves on gossip.”

“Easier on Abby? What about me, Brian? Or did I never matter?”

“You’ll always matter, Molly.” He took a step towards her.

The hungry look in his dark eyes threw her. “H–how can you still say that?”

He frowned then, looking thrown off balance for a moment. “Look, what we had… there was nothing here for me.”

“I’m here, Brian. I’ve always been here for you.”

“That’s just it, you’re here for your Nan, and she hates my guts. You’re here for Barrowdene, and that damn house isn’t even yours.” He shook his head, his lips curling in disdain. “It was never about me, was it? You’ve got your life laid out, and my role was to play happy families here in Appleby with you, no matter what I wanted.”

She stared at him wide-eyed. “But you were happy here. Appleby is your home. Everyone here dotes on you.”

“What use is that to me? I’m bigger than this place. I’m not ready to shut myself off from what the world can give. Look at you, you’re twenty-five and you’re stuck here acting like you’re fifty, for chrissake. It’s boring, Molly.”

Mortified heat burned her cheeks, and she blinked back sudden tears. “And Abby is the excitement you want?”

“You wouldn’t understand. It’s not about washed-out summer fairs out there. Out there, it’s throbbing with life, and it belongs to those who seize opportunity with both hands.”

“Do you love her, Brian?”

“Sure I do.” A ghost of a smirk hovered over his lips.

She glared. “Oh, I see. Like you
loved
me? Sounds to me like you’re just seizing a new opportunity.”

“Abby’s perfect for me,” he bit out. “I’m going places, and I need someone who can keep up with that.”

“You disgust me. Love isn’t a business deal, Brian. I may be boring, but I loved you once, and—”

“Love! And did you love me enough to stay with me? Leave your precious Barrowdene, your Nan?”

She stared at him, lost for words. Was he right? He’d left and she’d wanted him to come back, but why hadn’t she tried harder to be with him?

His laughter was mocking. “I thought not.”

“You never asked,” she whispered.

“I already knew your answer.” Reaching out, he cupped her cheek and looked deep into her eyes. “I loved you, Molly, but I wonder if you ever truly loved me?”

Always, she wanted to say, but the word stuck in her throat. Had it actually been her fault? Could she have tried harder for them? If only she hadn’t stepped back…

The accusation in his eyes burned into her, and in a silent plea for understanding, she covered his hand with hers and pressed her cheek into his palm, breathing in his warm, clean citrus scent.

A light sparked in his eyes, and his gaze dropped to her lips.

Her breath faltering, she stared up at him, unable to move as reality mingled with memory and she was transported back to a time when there had only ever been the two of them together.

Lowering his head, he brushed his lips over hers. A gentle touch. And her eyelids fluttered close on a small sigh of relief.

But all of a sudden, his seeking lips demanded more, and his hands spanned her waist, pulling her into the hard heat of his groin.

Her slumbering mind jerked awake and she wrenched her mouth from his. “No! Oh god. Don’t!” Hands, arms and elbows shoving against his chest she yanked free from his hold.

“What the hell?” Brian stared at her in disbelief, his face flushed.

Cold shame drained the blood from her cheeks, leaving her trembling. She raised a hand to her lips. “I’m sorry. I can’t…” With a shake of her head she spun away, and yanking the back door open, ran out into the sharp evening sunlight.

Molly slowed her pace only after putting several yards between herself and the vicarage. Appleby’s wide Main Street with it’s shops and pub lay before her, but it was riddled with small-talk and well-wishers on this sunny evening. 

Without breaking stride, she stepped into a narrow overhung lane, going from hot to cool in a blink as her sweat-glazed skin dried in the sudden welcome shade.

St Mary’s Lane, named after the tall parish church that stood further along at the end, was empty and quiet, with only the tweets of birds preparing for their evening nests sounding in the tree branches overhead. And occasionally, the smokey smell of a back-garden barbecue rose from beyond the Lane’s ancient stone wall as she passed. 

In that calm, she slowly unwound, and the stew of emotion swirling inside her settled into guilt. 

That kiss. What had possessed her?

Brian was with Abby now, and she had to accept that.

But… did he even love Abby?

She shook her head to clear it. None of her business. And it didn’t matter why he’d kissed her, she needed to keep away from him, needed to keep her heart safe.

The narrow lane opened up as the soaring, red brick bell-tower of St Mary’s Church loomed into view. Beyond the church orchard, she glimpsed the headstones in the graveyard, mostly worn-grey, patched and aged with green moss, but some were newer, gleaming white. Her grandfather’s was one of those. They’d buried him eighteen months ago in the same spot as the ashes of her parents. What she wouldn’t give to hear his soothing voice once more. Quickening her pace past the church, she crossed the curving main road. 

Set a short distance back from the road and half-hidden behind two tall silver birch trees, stood the white stone gate-pillars marking the entrance to Barrowdene’s driveway. Their seven-foot-tall wrought iron gates were wide open on either side of the driveway, a welcome invitation for all and sundry to enter. She’d never seen those gates closed. They must be at least a hundred years old. Did they even close anymore?

Their groundsman’s small whitewashed gatehouse with it’s grey slate roof and never used squat grey chimney stood to one side of the gates. She hurried on down the long driveway, flanked on either side by rows of spreading oaks and beech trees, and ahead of her, the imposing Georgian house, with its white front and rows of panelled windows, stood proud against a backdrop of sweeping greenery and clear blue sky. 

Relief warmed her. Barrowdene might not be hers, but it was home.

She quickly made her way around the back of the main house to where the housekeeper’s cottage stood, grateful that she hadn’t seen a soul so far. At close to seven o’ clock in the evening, the large estate seemed deserted. 

Rose Cottage, named after the plum-size pink and red roses that climbed up its white walls, almost reaching the thatched roof, was a welcome sight. A thin plume of smoke rose from its chimney, reaching out into the cloudless, blue August sky. It looked like Nan was cooking something.

And sure enough, the warm boxy hallway with its buttercream walls and striped yellow and orange carpet, was filled with the rich savoury scent of herb-cooked meat when Molly entered.