I get my phone out, meaning to call Mum. But just at that moment, I hear a vehicle pulling into the car park, and when I turn, my heart leaps in my chest.
It’s Jack’s car.
Nipping smartly behind a tree at the side of the café entrance, I watch as he emerges from the car, followed by his apparently ever-present side-kick. Jo is looking unbearably cute in a summer dress that combines a sizzling orange cut-away top and a figure-hugging hot pink skirt. I can’t help thinking she’s showing way too much tanned skin for a work outfit, and she must be freezing in this weather, but each to his own. I prefer understated elegance, and I always thought Jack did, too.
But maybe he likes the tarty look.
I think, with a pang of deep sorrow, of our trip to New York in a few weeks’ time. I won’t be strolling in Central Park after all. The thought of this travesty hurts my heart almost as much as seeing Jack walking companionably beside Jo as they approach the café, laughing at some private joke or other.
I feel bad listening in to their conversation. Actually, that’s a total lie. Creeping nearer, I flatten myself against the wall to remain invisible, and strain harder to hear what Jack is saying.
‘…a roaring log fire, lying on the rug, with a generous slice of toffee apple cake each…’
Jo giggles. ‘Sounds gorgeous. Especially the toffee apple cake.’
They enter the café, Jack holding the door for her, leaving me (literally and figuratively) out in the cold, contemplating my ex’s idea of the perfect romantic night in.
Feeling desolate, I wander over to the fence that separates the café area from the lush woods belonging to the Brambleberry Manor estate. I suddenly long to go for a crisp autumn walk in the shade of those ancient trees. The scent of the pine on the breeze is so delicious.
But I know I’m just stalling; not wanting to return to the café, because then I’ll have to watch Jack and Jo laughing and chatting together. He told me they weren’t an item, but that was just to make me feel better. For all I know, this work project could be drawing them closer together every day.
They might sound like a comic double act (‘Jack and Jo’, for heaven’s sake!), but that doesn’t mean it won’t work out for them. (I once knew a Chris and a Chris who fell in love and ended up tying the knot.) My lips twist bitterly. Jo could rename herself Jill and then they’d have a right old laugh in the wedding speeches…
Feeling close to tears, I heave myself away from the fence and head back to the café.
Jack’s words are running through my head.
A roaring log fire. Lying on the rug. Toffee apple cake.
I pause, my hand half-way to the door, as an idea springs to life.
I keep telling Carrie she has to be brave and ask Adam out. But isn’t it high time I stopped being a total wuss, regarding Jack, and put my money where my mouth is? I know he finds it hard to trust me, because I kept blowing hot and cold. And I laughed at his romantic gestures, thinking them embarrassingly corny. No wonder he went off me.
But what if I was to make a really grand romantic gesture myself? Prove to himself that things really would be different in future?
The idea is so startling, my mind is already buzzing with full colour images. Me with a rose between my teeth, standing beneath Jack’s window, a full moon casting its milky rays down as I serenade him, my voice rising to an ecstatic crescendo…ooh, no, forget that! I want him to fall for me all over again, not apply for a restraining order. Okay, then, how about punting down the river (me doing the punting, obviously), my lacy dress fluttering in the breeze…no! Can’t wear heels on a boat…
And then it occurs to me that I can relax, because Jack himself has provided me with a plan.
A roaring log fire. Lying on the rug. Toffee apple cake.
Nice. I’ve even made toffee apple cake once or twice before, for the cafe.
The twins are away next week, on a modelling assignment in Jersey, and Mum and Dad are going with them for a little break. So…I could use Hartwell House with its log fire in the living room as the perfect romantic setting. A little excited thrill runs through me. It’s so unlike me to do something romantic that Jack is sure to be stunned.
And maybe, just maybe, I’ll be able to convince him that we’re perfect for each other, after all…
CHAPTER TWELVE
It’s Thursday and I’m waiting for Marcus to come and pick me up and take me to the studio for his recording session.
I’m buzzing with excitement at the thought of seeing him perform. I texted him yesterday, asking if he was recording a song he’d written himself and he said it was, and when I asked him the title, he texted back: Wait and see. I think you’re going to love it. It totally reflects all the drama that’s been happening in my life lately!
It was all very mysterious. And exciting. He must mean that the song somehow highlighted the wonderful turn of events that had changed both our lives. Dad and daughter meeting up for the first time. I couldn’t wait to hear the song.
I talked to Fen about Marcus coming into my life and she got quite emotional. And then when I told her he’d invited me to the recording studio, she insisted she’d fill in for me and I should take the whole day off.
As I wait, glancing at the clock every few minutes (Marcus was due at eleven and it’s now twenty-five-past), I’m keeping my mobile on the arm of the sofa next to me, waiting for a message from Jack that never comes.
I finally plucked up the courage and texted Jack last night. I kept it fairly casual, saying that I missed our chats and why didn’t he come over to Hartwell House while my folks and the twins were away, and I’d cook us some supper? I debated long and hard about kisses, but in the end, I just added a smiley face. Nice and friendly.
But with each hour that passes, I’m regretting it more and more.
Why hasn’t he replied to my text?
Has he sensed an air of desperation behind my oh-so-casual invitation? Is he trying to work out how to let me down gently? Spending so much time with Perfect Jo is clearly helping him to move on, and I’m being left far behind, clinging like an idiot to the hopeless fantasy that one day, we’ll get back together.
A wave of hot embarrassment washes over me.
Oh, God, why did I send that stupid text?
The sound of a car outside makes me spring to my feet. Darting to the window, I wave to Marcus, grab my bag and hurry out.
Forget about Jack! Today will be brilliant!
‘Hey, you. It’s great to have you along with me today.’ Marcus smiles as I jump into the passenger seat and buckle up. ‘It’ll give an extra edge to my performance, knowing you’re there listening.’
I smile happily. ‘I can’t wait to hear you sing again. You’re brilliant.’
He grins. ‘Aw, shucks. You can come again.’ He pats my hand. ‘It’s so great to have you in my life, Maddy.’
I swallow, my throat feeling suddenly choked, but I do what I always do when I’m feeling emotionally vulnerable. I make a jokey comment.
‘If you heard me sing, you might change your mind. I definitely haven’t inherited the musical ability gene!’
He laughs. ‘Give me a tune.’
‘No.’
‘Oh, go on. You can’t be that bad. You’re my daughter, after all.’