Forty Things to Do Before You're Forty (14 page)

In the village, provisions purchased, Jake stood outside the grocery store deliberating whether or not to buy a newspaper. If he did, it would mean passing Annie's shop en route to the newsagents – an activity which, despite his earlier fighting talk, caused a knot of nerves to well in his stomach. He wouldn't bother, he decided. A newspaper would only provide him with yet another reason not to write. No, he would stop faffing about and head straight back to the manor to crack on with the book. About to do just that, he suddenly became aware of someone speaking to him.

‘Good morning, young man. You look miles away there. How's that ankle of yours doing?'

Startled out of his thoughts, it took a moment for Jake to place the kindly face. An image of her sitting at Annie's kitchen table with Sophie solved the puzzle, whilst the same image caused his jumble of nerves to swell still further. ‘It's, um, not too bad, thank you, Mrs Mackenzie.'

‘I'll let you into a wee secret,' she said in her broad Scottish accent. ‘I know just the thing to speed up your recovery.'

‘Really?' gasped Jake, picturing some ancient Celtic potion which, as well as healing his ankle so he could return post-haste to Scotland and normality, might put an end to his adolescent mooning. ‘What is it?'

Mrs Mackenzie beamed at him, her blue eyes twinkling. ‘Annie's new chocolate and coconut cookies. I've never tasted the likes of them. Melt in the mouth they do. She popped a fresh batch in the oven a few minutes ago. If you come along with me now, they should be just about ready.'

Jake's heart began thundering. He opened his mouth hoping it would emit some convincing excuse. It didn't. Completely immaterial anyway, as Mrs Mackenzie was already halfway towards Annie's shop and now waiting for him to catch her up. Dragging in a deep breath, he realised he had no option other than to do just that.

‘Look who I've found outside,' announced Mrs Mackenzie, entering the shop a minute later with a great air of purpose.

His nerves jangling, Jake limped in after her. Annie stood behind the counter, holding a tray of what looked – and smelt – like freshly baked cookies. Not that Jake paid them much attention. The moment he set eyes on her, every thought, other than how lovely she looked, shot from his head. His gaze attached itself to the honey-blonde curl which had escaped her ponytail to rest on her flushed cheek. The memory of how velvety that cheek had felt when he'd brushed the chocolate from her face that first evening flashed across his mind, causing heat to pool in the pit of his stomach. Aware he was gawping at her, he forced up the corners of his lips into what he hoped was a smile and not an impersonation of a constipated monkey, before blurting out a highly original ‘Good morning.'

The look on Annie's face provided no indication of whether she was pleased to see him or not. ‘Good, er, morning,' she replied, tucking the stray curl behind her ear. ‘How are you?'

How was he?
Watching her tuck that curl behind her ear had caused his legs to weaken and his mouth to go dry. ‘Oh, you know,' he croaked, indicating his foot. ‘What about you?'

‘Great, thanks.' She set down the tray on a cooling rack. ‘Very busy actually.'

‘I was just telling Mr Sinclair here about your wonderful new cookies,' cut in Mrs Mackenzie, beaming first at Annie, then at Jake, then at Annie. ‘They'll be just the thing to take his mind off that ankle of his.'

Annie smiled at him. ‘Well, I can't vouch for their medicinal properties, but you're very welcome to try them. I was actually going to bring a few over to the manor for you to try later.'

At her last sentence, the diffident way in which she voiced it, and the deepening flush it brought to her cheeks, Jake felt decidedly light of head. His gaze snagged on hers, causing his brain to turn to mush, his stomach to somersault, and his ability to speak to fly out the open door and leg it down the street. For what seemed like an eternity, he remained perfectly still, grinning at her, aware that she, too, remained perfectly still, grinning at him.

The moment was broken by a loud nasal voice.

‘Jake, dahling.'

Jake whipped his head round. The abrupt ending of whatever it was that had just occurred between him and Annie, added to the unexpected approaching mini-skirt, knocked him for six. So much so, that he wobbled on his crutches and would have toppled backwards onto the floor had Tanya not caught him by his upper arms.

‘Goodness,' she exclaimed, beaming down at him. ‘It looks like I arrived just at the right time.'

Actually
,
you could not have arrived at a worse one
, Jake wanted to say. With the finesse of a brick through a window, Tanya had shattered a most intense and intimate moment. At least he'd thought it intense and intimate. Whether Annie did was another matter altogether. But, with his head resting on Tanya's chest, he concluded it probably wasn't the best time for further contemplation. ‘Could you put me back on my feet,' he demanded gruffly.

Tanya set him upright and affected a hurt expression. ‘Now, I can tell you're a little cross, dahling. And I know I should have told you I was coming but I thought to myself … he's been working so hard lately, why not surprise him?' The dazzling smile which accompanied her last statement almost had Jake reaching for his sunglasses.

‘Now,' she continued, pouting and placing her hand on his arm. ‘How about we go somewhere private, somewhere we can have a nice little …
chat
.'

Jake inwardly recoiled. He didn't want to go anywhere with this woman. And he certainly didn't want to have a Nice Little Chat. He wanted to turn back the clock a few minutes and stay in that moment, staring at Annie, in her shop, surrounded by the mouth-watering smell of cookies, forever. But he couldn't. So what, exactly, should he do? He gawped at Tanya, then at Annie, then at Mrs Mackenzie. Three quizzical faces stared back at him, causing his blood pressure to soar, his pulse to thunder and his head to swim. Was he about to pass out? It might not be a bad thing if he did. At least then he wouldn't have to say anything. He closed his eyes for a few seconds, awaiting a comforting blanket of velvety darkness to wrap itself around him. It didn't. Consciousness prevailed. Damn. There was to be no escape. He'd have to say something. But what? For all his perplexed state, he realised that introducing Tanya as his literary agent could be dangerous. She would waste no time spouting forth a litany of his ‘achievements' including, of course, the film deal – undoubtedly the reason for her impromptu visit. She was wasting her time, but Jake didn't want to get into that in Annie's shop in the middle of Buttersley high street. Serious damage limitation was required now, which meant removing Tanya from any public place - fast.

‘This is, er, Tanya Langstaff,' he spluttered, addressing the tray of cooling cookies. ‘Tanya, this is Annie Richards and Mrs Mackenzie.'

Tanya tossed a condescending glance at the two women. ‘Oh, hello. I'm Jake's –'

‘Tanya's come up from London,' cut in Jake.

This revelation brought forth zero response. Hmm. Attempting a nonchalant air, Jake risked another look around the group. The three quizzical expressions had now been replaced with bemusement. His stomach commenced a strange churning motion.

‘Well, I suppose we'd better be getting along,' he said, his smile as strained as his voice.

‘Indeed we should,' agreed Tanya, shooting him a knowing look. ‘But … just a minute. What's that delicious smell?' She pressed a hand to her chest as her gaze landed on the tray of biscuits. ‘Oh. My. God. Are they chocolate and coconut cookies?'

Still focused on Jake, a silent Annie nodded.

‘My absolute favourites. We'll take a dozen please.'

More than a tad mortified, Jake watched as Annie, in what appeared to be a trance-like state, picked up a spatula and began shovelling the cookies off the tray and into a paper bag.

‘How much is that?' asked Tanya, rifling in her designer handbag.

Jake couldn't bear it a moment longer. ‘Here,' he said, slapping a ten pound note on the counter and flashing Annie an apologetic smile. ‘Thank you. I'll, um, catch you later.'

Annie did not reply.

By the time Jake staggered down the street to Tanya's sports car and shoehorned himself into it, he'd gathered his wits and ordered his emotions. Shelving those that had prevailed during that intimate moment with Annie, his overriding sentiment right now was fury – aimed, with expert precision, at Tanya. How the hell had she known where to find him? And what, precisely, did she imagine this visit would achieve?

‘Goodness, I didn't think there was life this far north. It's all very
Emmerdale
isn't it?' she twittered, pulling out directly in front of a tractor.

‘It's very nice actually,' snapped Jake, staring directly in front of him and refusing to look at her legs. He had no doubt that ridiculously short skirt formed part of her plan to seduce him into agreeing to the film deal. Well, if she thought she could win him over that easily, she was sorely mistaken. He found the woman more offensive than erotic, her very presence grating on him.

‘How did you know where I was?' he demanded.

‘I didn't,' she confessed, changing down a gear to navigate the tight bend at the end of the high street. ‘I only had the name of the village, which is why I stopped in that little street. I thought, in a place that small, a new kid on the block would not go unnoticed. Somebody was bound to know where you were staying.'

Jake's eyes narrowed. She must have a mole at his mobile network provider. Ever so slightly worrying – and presumably
very
illegal. If he had an ounce of proof, he'd sue the company for all they were worth. ‘And I don't suppose I need to ask
why
you are here?' He folded his arms over his chest. ‘If you're trying to persuade me to agree to the film deal, then you've had a wasted journey.'

‘I'm merely here for a catch-up, dahling,' she said, flashing him another of those too-bright smiles. ‘And, yes, there are aspects of the film deal that I thought maybe I hadn't explained particularly well on the telephone. Technology is all very well, but sometimes there's no substitute for face-to-face, if you get my meaning.'

The lascivious sideways glance she shot him caused bile to rise in Jake's throat. Christ, he'd only just got rid of Lydia and now another sex-crazed vamp had appeared on the scene. With yet another agenda. The pile of bags and suitcases in the back of the car had not escaped his notice. He'd take her back to the manor for their ‘meeting' but if she intended staying in Yorkshire, she'd have to find a room at the local pub – or, better still, a room in a hotel in Harrogate. Harrogate, Australia.

‘Wow,' she gasped, as a gleaming silver Porsche overtook them at dangerous speed. ‘It's not all wellies and Wurzels up here then.'

Jake tutted. ‘It's Yorkshire, Tanya. The odd car sighting has been known.'

‘No need to be facetious, sweetie. I simply meant it's nothing like London.'

Of course it's nothing like bloody London
, Jake resisted saying.
We're in the heart of the bloody countryside
. But he couldn't be bothered. He'd spend half an hour with her in the manor. Tell her, in no uncertain terms, that he would not be accepting the film deal, then send her merrily on her way. At least he'd be merry. Somehow he didn't think Tanya would be.

‘Oh my word, don't tell me you're staying here,' she exclaimed, as they turned off the main road and the manor house came into view. ‘And, oh look, there's the Porsche that just overtook us.'

Momentarily distracted as they drove by Annie's cottage, Jake's head snapped back around to the front. Spotting a line-up of at least a dozen very expensive cars parked in the forecourt – including the silver Porsche – a deluge of foreboding washed over him. What was going on? Hadn't Jasper told him the place would be empty for another month or so? And talking of Jasper … there was the man himself, climbing out of the Porsche, wearing black leather trousers and a
Sex Pistols
T-shirt. Jake's heart plummeted through the earth's core and beyond, landing, he suspected, in exactly the place he would like to forward the fragrant Tanya – Harrogate, Australia.

Tanya parked the car, pulled on the handbrake, reached for her handbag and fished out a lipstick. ‘Well, this looks like it could be
very
interesting,' she muttered, adjusting the rear-view mirror and applying another coat of glossy red to her already glossy red lips.

Jake didn't reply. If it hadn't been for his ankle, he suspected he might have leaped out of the car and legged it down the drive before anyone could see him. But he couldn't leg it anywhere and even if he could he'd be too late. Someone had seen him.

‘Jake, old chap,' called Jasper, his long leather-clad legs striding over to the car as Jake and his crutches slithered out. ‘What the hell happened to you?'

Jake sucked in a fortifying breath, hoping it would dislodge all traces of anger, bitterness and resentment. The manor was Jasper's family pile and Jake should consider himself lucky he'd been allowed to stay there. He mustered up some semblance of a smile before turning to face his old friend. ‘Bit of an accident while out running,' he replied, with a self-deprecating laugh. ‘Not safe to be left on my own.'

Jasper snorted with laughter and ran a hand through his mousey shoulder-length hair which was, Jake noticed, now threaded with grey. ‘That's the very reason we're here,' he guffawed. ‘Well, that and the fact that Rupes fancied a change of scene. You remember old Rupes, don't you?'

‘Yes, of course,' said Jake, recognising the lanky man whose bony buttocks – clad in drainpipe yellow jeans – were perched on the bonnet of a red Mercedes coupe. He was chatting to another male in leopard skin trousers and a tight black T-shirt. Both had the same shaggy indiscernible hairstyles as Jasper. They looked, thought Jake, like a group of ageing rock stars.