He grounded me for six months after that, which I thought was so unfair because I was practically a grown-up (I was sixteen). I lied and said I hadn’t realised the driver didn’t have a license, but Dad didn’t believe me. We had a flaming row, I stormed out and we didn’t speak for months after that.
The accident proved to be a watershed. It shocked me into realising I needed to wise up and think of my future. But even after I calmed down, my relationship with Dad was still strained. I tried to make up for my rebellious years by studying hard for A levels, and I eventually emerged with two As and a B. But Dad still found it hard to trust me. The bond we’d shared when I was little was smashed to smithereens. And it was never going to be repaired - however hard I tried to prove that my rebellious days were a thing of the past…
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
As soon as I wake to my six o’clock alarm, I remember what day it is – and a host of butterflies start fluttering around inside.
I’m seeing Jack tonight!
I shiver, remembering the look he gave me in the café that time, when our eyes met and I didn’t look away. And neither did he…
But I give myself a little shake. I’ve got to keep my feet on the ground. Jack and I are just friends now and maybe that’s all he wants. I’m desperately hoping I can convince him that we belong together and that I can be just as romantic as the next person, but I’ve got to face facts: the evening might not turn out the way I want it to.
My stomach shifts uneasily. What if all I manage to do is make a huge arse of myself in front of him? If it was anyone else, I wouldn’t even care about that. But it’s Jack…
Oh, God, why am I even doing this?
Because I love him.
The four words run through my head, stopping me dead in my tracks.
I stare up at the ceiling, a funny feeling inside. Part of me is bounding along with joy at this thought (I’ve never admitted the strength of my feelings for Jack, even to myself) but another part of me is terrified. If you love someone, they have so much more power to hurt you…
But I can’t allow fear to get in the way. If I do that, I’ll be on my own forever. If there’s even just a tiny spark still there between Jack and me, then surely I’m in with a chance of winning him round.
I have to try.
I’ve already planned what I’ll wear. It’s a bit of a departure from my usual skinny jeans and top. I hardly ever wear a dress, but this is definitely an occasion for the floaty floral number I found in my wardrobe. I bought it in a sale – it still has the price tag on it – but I’ve never worn it. It reminds me of those old ‘Cadbury’s Flake’ adverts you see on Youtube where the girl runs through a cornfield, sensuously unwraps her sweet delight and gives herself up to an orgasmic, chocolatey experience – except hopefully, if I play my cards right tonight, it won’t be a bar of chocolate that’s tantalising me!
Before I leave for the Brambleberry Manor Café at nine-thirty, I need to bake my special toffee apple cake so it’ll be ready for icing when I return from work. I’m also going to nip over to Hartwell House and tweak a few things so it looks perfect for tonight.
I start creaming butter and sugar at seven, and twenty minutes later, the glorious scent of baking is wafting through the flat. Normally, it would be making my stomach rumble, but I’m feeling quite nauseous with nerves and excitement at the thought of seeing Jack later. So I skip breakfast, jump in the shower, then I walk over to Hartwell House on the other side of the village.
The house is oddly silent with everyone away. I almost feel like an intruder, although I know Mum and Dad won’t mind me being here tonight. If anything, they’ll be glad I’m there to keep an eye on the place.
The log burner in the living room hasn’t been used since March, but I make sure it’s loaded with wood and ready to light, and I do a quick hoover around afterwards. I’m not great at housework. I’m always of the opinion that life is too short to worry about a bit of dust. But tonight is different, and I even find myself plumping cushions and spraying far too much air freshener.
I’m on edge all day at the café, and Carrie and Molly keep giving me knowing looks and making comments such as, ‘So…it’s the big night tonight!’ and ‘Jack’s not going to know what’s hit him!’ (I sort of wish they would stop it because what if my plans all come to nothing? What if tonight is just one big anti-climactic flop?)
But when I say this to Carrie, she replies that I should forget about disasters and instead, visualise the perfect outcome. ‘That’s what athletes do. They focus on a vision of themselves crossing the finish line first, and apparently that can work like magic.’
‘A bit of abracadabra would certainly be good.’ I grin slyly at her. ‘I hope you’re doing the same? Focusing on you and Adam at the fair?’
‘Oh, well…’ She looks away, flustered at the mention of him. ‘Do you think that customer wants more hot water for her tea?’
‘Changing the subject!’
‘No, I’m not,’ she snaps, wafting a menu to cool her cheeks.
‘You could have fooled me.’
She grins. ‘Okay. I’ll focus on me and Adam at the fair, if it makes you feel better!’
By closing time, I’m a bundle of nerves and actually starting to perspire. ‘Phew, is it me or is it warm in here all of a sudden?’ I ask, wafting the front of my top.
‘It’s definitely a lot milder today. Apparently we’re in for a two-week Indian summer,’ says Carrie.
‘Jaz won’t like that,’ I murmur. ‘She’s been waging a war with the heat all summer.’
‘It’s her due date today, isn’t it? Any news?’
‘No. But she’s had her birthing plan in place since Tiddler was just a tadpole!’
‘My friend, Shona, helped deliver a baby on a bus.’
‘Crikey. In full view of all the passengers.’
Carrie laughs. ‘No. The bus had reached the end of the line and was in the depot. She and the female bus driver had to roll their sleeves up and get stuck in while they waited for the paramedics.’
I groan. ‘If that happened to me, I’d scarper.’
‘What? And abandon your poor friend in agony?’
‘Well, no. But I’d leg it just as soon as the emergency services arrived. Can’t stand the sight of blood and gore.’
‘It’s a thought, isn’t it? Giving birth,’ murmurs Carrie thoughtfully, as we lock up the café and head out to her car. ‘It must be soooo painful.’
I shudder. ‘Let’s not think about that.’
She nods. ‘You’ve got your hot date to get to.’
I grin, as my insides gurgle their answer. ‘Not sure how “hot” it’s going to be.’
‘Well, here’s hoping,’ smiles Carrie, who’s giving me a lift home. ‘I’ve got everything crossed for you.’
*****
When the bell rings at a few minutes past seven, my heart almost stops. Then it revs into overdrive as I walk to the front door.
I asked Fen to give me the name of a really romantic movie and she smiled and said, ‘Sense and Sensibility, from the book by Jane Austen.’ She loaned it to me and I watched it last night to get into a romantic frame of mind. Of the two sisters, I decided I’m far more like Eleanor – sensible, direct and very practical – but it’s Marianne who’s the hopeless romantic, willing to sacrifice anything for true love.