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Authors: Paula Martin
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forgive him.”
“You mean my mum?”
“Your mum knew Jack had hurt you badly, and she was angry with him. Mums don’t like seeing their kids getting hurt, you know. All the business over the gatehouse gave her an outlet to vent her anger.”
Abbey raised surprised eyebrows. “I never thought of that.” She gave a short laugh. “And this is the second time tonight that you’ve said something I hadn’t thought about before.”
“Oh?”
“Yes, when you talked about people working together. You were right. The whole village joined in with all the fundraising activities.”
Jeannie laughed. “We didn’t have much option with Dolly Garside organising us all.” They paused when they reached Eagle Croft, and she patted Abbey’s arm. “Remember, Abbey, when you find a way to let go of the past, it ceases to have the power to hurt you.”
Abbey gave her a weak smile. “Okay, I’ll remember. ’Night, Jeannie.”
She continued home, and sat for a long time at the kitchen table, her hands wrapped around a mug of hot chocolate. The evening’s events crowded into her mind, but she couldn’t clarify her thoughts or sort out her confused feelings. All she knew was that they centred on Jack. Eventually, with a deep sigh, she stood up. There was no point going around in circles any longer. She’d think about it tomorrow.
On Sunday morning, over breakfast, she told her mother about Sam’s party and about Alan’s speech. Deliberately she didn’t mention that Jack had also been there or anything about the argument in the pub. She balked, too, at making any comment about using the barn at Fir Garth for their drama club meeting.
Jeannie’s words came back to her: All the business over the gatehouse gave her an outlet to vent her anger . Her anger with Jack. Not solely because of the article, but because he’d hurt one of her children. She needed to tread very carefully with her mother as far as Jack was concerned.
During the morning, as she helped with some spring-cleaning, she couldn’t stop thinking about Tuesday’s meeting. Before then, she needed to work out how to act naturally with Jack instead of allowing her personal feelings to affect her behaviour, like they did the previous evening. She couldn’t even recall thanking him or offering to help him tidy the barn. He must think her churlish and ungrateful.
On an impulse, she picked up her phone. She didn’t have his mobile number but she remembered the landline number for Fir Garth. How many thousands of times had she rung that number in her teens?
After her mother went out into the back garden to hang out newly washed curtains, she hit the numbers quickly. When the familiar voice said, “Jack Tremayne here,” a flurry of nervousness assailed her, and she wished she’d worked out beforehand what she was going to say.
“Jack, hi, it’s Abbey. I—erm—I’m calling to say I’m very grateful for your offer of the barn for the drama club. You took me by surprise last night, and I don’t think I even thanked you.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’m glad I could suggest somewhere for you to meet. I called Tom Williams this morning to say other groups can use the barn if they wish.” Jack gave a quick laugh. “Assuming I can clear out the junk that’s accumulated. I hadn’t realised how much there was until I checked earlier. I’m about to start clearing it now.”
“I could come and help you, if you want.”
The words were out before she thought about them, and she surprised even herself.
“Aren’t you at the shop today?”
“No, we don’t open on Sundays until the main tourist season starts at Easter.”
“Okay. I’d appreciate another pair of hands, if you’re free.”
“I’ll come over in about twenty minutes.”
“Thanks. See you later, Abbey.”
As she clicked off her phone, Abbey drew in a deep breath and crossed to the back door.
“Want a cup of tea?” she called.
“You’ve read my mind,” Edwina said as she
“You mean my mum?”
“Your mum knew Jack had hurt you badly, and she was angry with him. Mums don’t like seeing their kids getting hurt, you know. All the business over the gatehouse gave her an outlet to vent her anger.”
Abbey raised surprised eyebrows. “I never thought of that.” She gave a short laugh. “And this is the second time tonight that you’ve said something I hadn’t thought about before.”
“Oh?”
“Yes, when you talked about people working together. You were right. The whole village joined in with all the fundraising activities.”
Jeannie laughed. “We didn’t have much option with Dolly Garside organising us all.” They paused when they reached Eagle Croft, and she patted Abbey’s arm. “Remember, Abbey, when you find a way to let go of the past, it ceases to have the power to hurt you.”
Abbey gave her a weak smile. “Okay, I’ll remember. ’Night, Jeannie.”
She continued home, and sat for a long time at the kitchen table, her hands wrapped around a mug of hot chocolate. The evening’s events crowded into her mind, but she couldn’t clarify her thoughts or sort out her confused feelings. All she knew was that they centred on Jack. Eventually, with a deep sigh, she stood up. There was no point going around in circles any longer. She’d think about it tomorrow.
On Sunday morning, over breakfast, she told her mother about Sam’s party and about Alan’s speech. Deliberately she didn’t mention that Jack had also been there or anything about the argument in the pub. She balked, too, at making any comment about using the barn at Fir Garth for their drama club meeting.
Jeannie’s words came back to her: All the business over the gatehouse gave her an outlet to vent her anger . Her anger with Jack. Not solely because of the article, but because he’d hurt one of her children. She needed to tread very carefully with her mother as far as Jack was concerned.
During the morning, as she helped with some spring-cleaning, she couldn’t stop thinking about Tuesday’s meeting. Before then, she needed to work out how to act naturally with Jack instead of allowing her personal feelings to affect her behaviour, like they did the previous evening. She couldn’t even recall thanking him or offering to help him tidy the barn. He must think her churlish and ungrateful.
On an impulse, she picked up her phone. She didn’t have his mobile number but she remembered the landline number for Fir Garth. How many thousands of times had she rung that number in her teens?
After her mother went out into the back garden to hang out newly washed curtains, she hit the numbers quickly. When the familiar voice said, “Jack Tremayne here,” a flurry of nervousness assailed her, and she wished she’d worked out beforehand what she was going to say.
“Jack, hi, it’s Abbey. I—erm—I’m calling to say I’m very grateful for your offer of the barn for the drama club. You took me by surprise last night, and I don’t think I even thanked you.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’m glad I could suggest somewhere for you to meet. I called Tom Williams this morning to say other groups can use the barn if they wish.” Jack gave a quick laugh. “Assuming I can clear out the junk that’s accumulated. I hadn’t realised how much there was until I checked earlier. I’m about to start clearing it now.”
“I could come and help you, if you want.”
The words were out before she thought about them, and she surprised even herself.
“Aren’t you at the shop today?”
“No, we don’t open on Sundays until the main tourist season starts at Easter.”
“Okay. I’d appreciate another pair of hands, if you’re free.”
“I’ll come over in about twenty minutes.”
“Thanks. See you later, Abbey.”
As she clicked off her phone, Abbey drew in a deep breath and crossed to the back door.
“Want a cup of tea?” she called.
“You’ve read my mind,” Edwina said as she
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