Fragrance of Violets (15 page)

After they’d completed several low-level hikes, they decided to try the well-worn path up the 2,600 feet Coniston Old Man. On the way, they passed the remains of the old copper mines, and Jack pointed out the entrances to the shafts and the now-rusted iron runways where the copper ore was once transported down the hillside.

“I wonder if any of
The
Rycroft Saga
will be filmed around here,” Abbey mused. “In the book, Maggie runs up the hill to meet her father at the end of his shift, but I expect they’ll film the scene lower down where it’s easier to use all the equipment.”

Jack squeezed her hand. “I could imagine you running up here in a long black skirt and a shawl around your shoulders, with your hair blowing in the breeze.”

She gave him a weak smile in an attempt to hide the renewed disappointment that tightened her stomach. “Well, it’s not going to happen, so I need to stop thinking about it. Remember when we came up here once and it began to pour down, and all the dye in my socks ran so I ended up with purple feet?”

They laughed as they continued to recall other hikes they’d done as teenagers, and Abbey forgot her momentary desolation. After all, if she’d won the Maggie Rycroft part, she wouldn’t have come home to Rusthwaite, and wouldn’t have met Jack again or enjoyed the days she spent with him.

They water-skied, windsurfed, and kayaked on Windermere, cycled in Rusthwaite Forest and, on a less energetic day, strolled hand-in-hand around the beautiful gardens of a Victorian home overlooking Coniston Water. In the evenings, sometimes they went to the theatre or cinema in Kendal, or to one of the country inns for a meal. One evening, they held a barbecue for the drama club teenagers; other nights they relaxed at Fir Garth or went to the pub in the village.

“I love being with him,” she told Louise on the phone. “I don’t have to pretend to be something I’m not. He accepts me as I am, and we talk about anything and everything.”

“Have you been to bed with him yet?”

“No, I haven’t.”

“Okay, I’ll rephrase the question,” Louise said. “Do you
want
to go to bed with him?”

Abbey hesitated. “Yes, I think so,” she said finally.

“So you go, girl. Do it.”

“One small step for anyone else, one huge step for Abbey, huh?”

“It’s not the be all and end all of a relationship, Abbs. It’s only a small part of it.”

Abbey shook her head. “It’s more than that for me, Lou.”

“Isn’t it time you took that huge step?”

“I’ll think about it.”

The thoughts swirled around her mind after she switched off her phone. There’d been times when she longed for more than their increasingly arousing kisses at the end of a day or evening together. She knew Jack was holding back, making no demands on her, and knew he wanted more, especially when he broke away from their embrace, dragged in a deep breath, and said, “I’d better go home now.”

Sometimes she longed for him to sweep her up in his arms and take her to bed. There’d even been times when she thought about telling him to do it, but couldn’t bring herself to say the words. Life was too good at the moment to risk changing anything.

* * * * *

After a drama club meeting at the end of April, Jack suggested they went to the White Lion for a drink. He had something to ask Abbey, but wasn’t sure what her answer would be. It was a mild evening, and they took their drinks outside to the small beer garden behind the pub.

For a while, they talked about the drama festival play. He’d been impressed by how the youngsters had invented their own scenes, comparing and contrasting the issues of the past with teenage problems today. He and Abbey had both helped them with their dialogue, and there was a lengthy discussion about the best way to stage it. Abbey’s instinctive sense of stagecraft had come into play when she proposed using a split stage to alternate the Victorian scenes with the modern ones.

“It’s coming together well,” he said. “I wasn’t sure your idea of a split stage would work but it does.”

She nodded. “I’ve seen it done several times. One play I was in had two rooms in the same house with different things happening in each. The lighting alternated between the rooms, and we had to freeze when our scene was in darkness.”

“Do you miss it? Being on stage, I mean.”

“Sometimes. When I see Charlotte Morris immersing herself in her character, I find myself longing to do the same.”

“She’s good. Probably the best actress in the group.”

“Yes, she is. She becomes a different person when she’s acting, and I know she’s basing her character on Maggie in
The
Rycroft Saga
. She told me how much she loves those books.”

Jack took a long gulp of his beer. His frustration had increased when Farrell told him Marsha Hewitt was being difficult and refusing to relinquish the role, even for a big pay-off, unless they offered her a better part in another production. So far they hadn’t found anything she would accept.

“You haven’t been for any auditions recently, have you?”

“Not yet. I told my agent I was taking a six month break, which gives me about a month to decide whether I want to go back on the audition circuit again.”

“Do you?”

“I’m not sure.” She smiled as her eyes met his. “At the moment, I’m enjoying life here.”

That was his cue, and he spoke carefully. “Abbey, I have to go to Paris tomorrow for a week. I’m doing several interviews in connection with an article I’m writing, and I wondered if you’d—well, I can send you a ticket to fly out to join me. That is, of course, if you want to spend a weekend in Paris with me?”

He held his breath, saw her face change, but had no idea what her reaction would be.

CHAPTER 15

Abbey stared at Jack, open-mouthed. “Oh!”

“Is that it? Just
oh
?”

“Paris next weekend?”

April in Paris. The city of lovers. They’d share a room, and a bed. Louise’s words echoed in her mind:
You go, girl. Do it.
But was she ready for their relationship to change?

Excitement and panic combined to set her nerves quivering. It should be easy to say a simple
yes
to him. She wanted to go to bed with him, she’d imagined it plenty of times in the last few weeks, and yet an indefinable apprehension held her back.

“I need to check with Mum,” she said. “It depends if Sandra can help in the shop. We’re very busy at the weekends, you know, and—”

“Abbey.” He caught hold of her hand. “Do you want to come to Paris with me or not?”

She hesitated but knew she had to be honest. “I want to say yes, but part of me isn’t sure.”

His hand tightened around hers. “Look, we can do the whole sightseeing thing, Eiffel Tower, Notre Dame, etcetera, we can go to the art galleries or museums, take a cruise down the Seine, sit at a pavement café and drink coffee or wine, whatever you want. Anything more is your decision, okay? I promised I’d give you time, and I’m not going to break that promise.”

“Can I think about it?”

“Of course. How about I book a flight for you on Friday afternoon? I’ll email the ticket, and it’s up to you to use it or ignore it. You will let me know, though, won’t you, so I don’t stand waiting at the airport for hours?”

“I’ll call you by Thursday evening at the latest, I promise.”

“You have my number, and the hotel is the Clemenceau. It’s where I always stay in Paris, near the Arc de Triomphe. You can leave a message there if you can’t get through to my phone.”

* * * * *

Abbey tossed and turned for what seemed like hours that night. In one minute, she berated herself for not saying a straight
yes
to him; in the next, all her fears muddled her mind again.

The following morning, when the flight ticket arrived in her computer inbox, she stared at it for a long time. She thought about ringing Louise but knew what her sister’s answer would be. Besides, this was her decision, not Louise’s.

She was no nearer to making it by Thursday morning. Every time she thought,
Yes, I’ll go
, some inner demon kicked in and said,
Are you sure?

And she still wasn’t sure.

When her phone rang midway through the morning, she expected it to be Jack, asking what she’d decided. Instead, it was her agent’s name on the screen, and she raised curious eyebrows.

“Hi, Sylvia. Long time, no see.”

“Abbey, I know you said six months’ break and we’re not quite there yet because I have the date marked on my calendar, but something’s come up.”

“What’s that?”

“Peter Stones needs you. He called me this morning. He’s directing
The Importance of Being Earnest
at the Gaiety in London, and the actress playing Gwendolen broke her leg yesterday. He knows you’re familiar with the role and his production because you did it in Manchester a couple of years ago.”

Abbey frowned. “What about the understudy?”

“There isn’t one. Short-sighted, I know, but that’s the way things are these days. Can you do it? It’s only a short run, three weeks.”

“When does Peter want me?”

“Next Monday. They’re part way through rehearsals, and previews start a week tomorrow.”

“Sylvia, I—” Abbey paused as her mind raced. “Can I call you back? I have several commitments here, and I’m not sure whether I can be in London for the next month.”

“Let me know as soon as you can, Abbey. I’ll stall Peter and tell him you’re considering it, but you need to decide by Sunday evening, at the latest.”

“Okay.” She clicked off her phone and stood still as her mind grappled with this new complication in her life.

“Problems?” her mother asked.

“Peter Stones wants me to play Gwendolen again in
Importance
.”

She explained briefly what had happened, and Edwina wrinkled her brow. “Isn’t he the one who—?”

“Yes, he gave me my first big break with
Jane Eyre
, and I do feel beholden to him, but—”

“But what?”

What indeed?
She should be jumping up and down in delight. Peter Stones wanted her for a role in London’s West End. A prestigious production, too, since he was a highly acclaimed director, and she loved the Gwendolen role in
The Importance of Being Earnest
.

So why was everything inside her saying she didn’t want to go back to London?

“There’s the drama club for a start,” she said. “You know we’re busy rehearsing for the festival in June.”

“Wouldn’t Angie Moore from the High School help with that? She produces all the plays at the school.”

Abbey nodded uncertainly. “I could ask her, but there’s the shop, too.”

“And you know Sandra’s quite happy to work here, and when she can’t do it, Hilary usually can.”

“I also said I’d help Sally with the refreshments for the playgroup’s Teddy Bear Picnic in a couple of weeks.”

Edwina studied her. “What’s the real reason, Abbey?”

“It’s what I said to Sylvia. I have commitments here and I want—” She broke off and her face relaxed. She wanted to stay here in Rusthwaite. Not for the drama club or the shop or the Teddy Bear picnic, but because Jack was here. She wanted to be with him.

At last she had the answer to her dilemma.

She gave her mother a quick smile. “I need to make a call.” After finding Jack’s number, she waited while it diverted to the answer service, and left her message. “I’ll be on the flight tomorrow, Jack. See you at the airport.”

Edwina’s eyes widened. “Airport? What airport? Where are you going?”

“Mum, can you ask Sandra or Hilary to help for the next few days? I need to find my passport and buy some Euros and pack some clothes and—” She paused for breath and grinned. “I’m going to Paris for the weekend with Jack, and now I must ring Louise.”

When two customers came into the shop, she went into the storeroom before hitting the key for Louise’s number. “I’m taking your advice, Lou.”

“Which particular piece of advice do you mean?”

Abbey couldn’t keep the broad grin off her face. “I’m going to Paris tomorrow to spend the weekend there with Jack.”

“That’s great. I’m pleased for you.”

Her smile faded. She’d expected Louise to be enthusiastic and encouraging, but her sister’s voice sounded flat. “What’s the matter?”

“Sorry, you’ve caught me at a bad time. Dad called me about ten minutes ago. He’s been told he has pancreatic cancer, and it’s already well advanced.”

“What does that mean?”

“They’re going to run some scans to find out if the cancer has spread, but it doesn’t sound very good. I know this is the wrong time to be talking about this, but he would love to see you again.”

Abbey tensed and shook her head. “No way.” She tried to relax. “I’m sorry he has cancer. It’s a horrid disease and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone, but it doesn’t change my feelings about him.”

“Promise me you’ll at least think about it? And I’m so pleased things are working out for you with Jack. Have a fantastic weekend and call me when you get home.”

After she switched off her phone, Abbey battled with her mixed feelings. So her father had cancer, but they could work wonders these days with chemotherapy, couldn’t they? It didn’t alter what had happened in the past.

* * * * *

That afternoon, she drove down to Kendal. A weekend in Paris was a good excuse to buy some new clothes, and after two hours browsing the shops, she decided on a pair of tan trousers, a silky cream blouse, and a dark brown batwing cardigan. In another shop, she chose a floral tunic top, some pale blue capris, and a jade green dress with a heart-shaped neckline.

As she headed back to her car, the scantily dressed mannequins in the window of a lingerie shop caught her eye. She stopped to study them, and her mouth curved in a small smile.

Ever since she made her decision, she’d been conscious of a fluttering sensation in the pit of her stomach. Not simply because she was going to Paris, but because tomorrow night she would go to bed with Jack. Every time she thought about it, goose bumps broke out on her arms and neck.

He’d been patient with her for a long time and would probably think he had to take things slowly this weekend, too, but she didn’t want to wait any longer. She wanted to make love with him, and now she knew how to show him she was as ready and eager as he was.

She pushed open the door of the lingerie shop and approached the girl at the counter. “Where can I find one like the red one in the window?”

“On the rack over there, madam. We have them in several colours.”

Abbey headed to the rack. “The red will be perfect, thanks.”

* * * * *

Jack stood in the arrivals area at Charles de Gaulle Airport and waited as the passengers came through from airside. When he’d listened to Abbey’s phone message, he smiled in relief. He called her back, and they talked casually, as if it was no big deal to spend a weekend together in Paris. His mind kept telling him to take things steadily, but his body gave him a completely different reaction. He wanted her so much that last night he’d woken up sweating and aroused.

Now he was tense with apprehension. The information screen showed her plane had landed on time, but he still wasn’t a hundred percent certain she’d actually be on it. She could have changed her mind at the last moment.

When he saw her through the glass panels, his breath caught in his chest. She looked beautiful. Her dark hair was tied back, but a few tendrils curled around her cheeks and jaw, and her brown and cream ensemble was casual but classy at the same time.

As her eyes scanned the arrivals hall, he waved and manoeuvred through the crowds to join her. He’d deliberately worn a bright blue polo shirt so she’d be able to spot him easily, and he loved the way her eyes lit up when she saw him.

She smiled as they met. “Hi, have you been waiting long?”

He wanted to lift her into his arms and smother her with kisses. Instead, he gave her a quick kiss on her cheek. “Only about twenty minutes. Here, let me take that. We’ll find a cab outside.”

He took the handle of her wheelie suitcase, and put out his other hand to catch hold of hers as they headed to the taxi rank. “Good flight?”

“Yes. On time and no turbulence, what more could you ask?”

Oh God, we’re into small talk
, he thought as they joined the queue for taxis.

He squeezed her hand. “I’m glad you decided to come.”

Her eyes softened as she nodded. “Yes, so am I.”

Everything inside him jerked at the gentle promise in her voice.

As the taxi sped toward the city, she asked him about the article he was researching about France’s new energy saving directives, and he told her about the interviews he’d done. The traffic slowed them down as they approached the centre of the city, but when they caught their first sight of the Eiffel Tower, Abbey squealed in delight. “Now I feel as if I’m in Paris!”

The taxi took them up the broad tree-lined Champs-Élysées and part way around the Arc de Triomphe, before turning into another wide avenue and stopping in front of an elegant, contemporary hotel with a brightly lit façade.

Abbey turned to him, wide-eyed. “We’re staying here?”

“Yes, this is the Clemenceau.”

“Mmm,
very
nice.”

He paid the driver, and held out his hand to help her out of the taxi.

The doorman, in a blue uniform with a red cape, approached them with a smile. “
Bonsoir, Monsieur Tremayne, et bienvenue à l’Hôtel Clemenceau, madame.
”

“
Merci beaucoup, monsieur
,” Abbey replied.

“
Votre bagage, madame
?”

“It’s okay, I’ll take it,” Jack said as he picked up Abbey’s case. The large glass door slid open, and he grinned as he led her through the spacious lobby furnished in black and white. “Been practising your French?”

“
Mais oui, monsieur
.” She gave him a coquettish glance under her lashes, and laughed. “I can manage please and thank you and
une bouteille de vin
and that’s about all. Top floor?” she added, when they entered the elevator and he pressed the button for the tenth floor. “We’re in the attic?”

He chuckled. “Penthouse sounds better. I hope you’ll like it.”

“If it’s as stylish as the lobby, I’m sure I will. Even this elevator is a work of art, although all these mirrors are a little disconcerting.” She looked up. “Including those on the ceiling.”

“Designer’s trick to make it seem bigger, I guess.”