Vision in Faith (Legends of the North Book 3) (14 page)

Vicky let out a soft sigh and he looked over at her. "That's so sad. It must have been beautiful before that."

Not as beautiful as you.
He shook his head, hoping he hadn't said that aloud. "Yeah, but it still doesn't explain what the hell it has to do with us. Me. I mean, my dreams."

Her free hand wrapped around his forearm. "Like Matt always says, we'll figure it out. He knows far too much shit for me not to believe him when he says it."

His lips twitched because Matt did know far too much shit; he always had. He just wished he'd hurry up and figure this out sooner rather than later.

As they cleaned up, Vicky surveyed the room. It was starting to look like a salon. She'd filled the shelves with the few supplies she had, shampoo, conditioner, and brushes. The mirrors would be delivered on Monday and would take up most of one wall. She needed seats, a washbasin, and flyers to advertise.
 

Exhausted but happy, her eyes stung as she realised she'd be ready to open sooner than she thought. Getting carried away with the excitement that thought brought, she turned to James and kissed him. "Do you want to stay for tea?"

His arm wound around her waist. "Sounds good to me."

And then it was his turn to kiss her.

Chapter 15

Vicky woke the next morning, too hot and to the soft sound of snoring. Definitely not a Teazle snore. As she turned her head, a smile crept across her face as she took in the sight that was James first thing in the morning. His hair looked like it'd had a bad style job, and a line ran down his cheek from the pillow.

He'd stayed for dinner, and dinner had turned into overnight. And she was fine with that. His arm was loosely around her waist and she wriggled her way free. Making her way downstairs, she let Teazle out the back and then headed for the kitchen.

She'd just poured herself a cup of coffee when there was a knock on the door. Heading downstairs again, she peeked out the window. She waved as she saw her mum and dad on the doorstep. Opening the door, she pulled it wide and stepped back.

"Do you know what time it is? You're still in your pyjamas," her mum said.

Vicky looked down at her red checked pyjamas and then back up at her mum's black suit. Clearly, they'd been to church already. "Do you want to come in?"

Her mum shook her head. "No, no. I just…"

Vicky waited for her mum to carry on and when she didn't, she followed her gaze. Standing at the top of the stairs, in nothing but his boxer briefs, was James. Vicky was pretty sure her cheeks matched the colour of her pyjamas at that point. Her mum knew she didn't believe in waiting until she was married, but it was another thing to confront her with it straight after church.

 
Her mum looked back at her, one side of her mouth lifted. "I came round to invite you for lunch." She stepped closer, looking up towards where James was still standing as she carried on. "Obviously, that includes you too."

"Er. Thank you, Mrs Hudson." He made his way downstairs and held out a hand. "James Altenbury. A pleasure to meet you."

Her mum's gaze dropped as she replied, "The pleasure is all mine. Please, call me Jane." As she placed her hand in James's, Vicky moved to stand in front of him and tried to cover his bare chest.

"Mum!"

Her mum's head jerked up and met her gaze. "I'll see you both in an hour, then. That will give us plenty of time to catch up before lunch is ready."

Before Vicky could answer, her mum turned and walked off with her dad in tow. Closing the door, she turned around and dropped her head to James's chest. "God, that was so embarrassing. I'm so sorry. You don't have to go."

James laughed and wrapped his hands around her arms. Pushing her head off his chest, he gazed into her eyes. "Would you rather I didn't?"

Vicky stared back for a long moment, wondering what he was really asking. Did he want to go? Licking her lips, her mouth suddenly seemed too dry. "I don't mind. But I'll warn you now that she'll be convinced we are getting married. Or try to convince you we should."

His hands tightened around her arms. "Why?"

Vicky laughed and tried to wave a hand between them. "Because I'm pretty sure she knows we've slept together, so in her world that means marriage. Don't worry. I'll set her straight, again. Still want to come for lunch?"

It was her turn to be on the end of a long stare before he simply nodded.

James had been quiet since her mother's impromptu visit, but as they made their way to her parents' he held her hand, which she took as a good sign. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. It's just, you know, meeting the parents."

Vicky stopped walking at his words, because seriously, what were they doing? James stopped and turned to look at her questioningly. "I can't do this," she said.

"What?"

"The 'meet the parents' thing. They hate me."

"Your parents hate you?"

"No. Your mum hates me," she said, tugging her hand free from his. "You don't need to introduce me to your mother. We've already met, and she hates me."

James cursed and tugged her hand until he could wrap his arms around her. His lips brushed her cheek and then the shell of her ear as he spoke. "I don't care what my mother thinks. She has no say about us. And I don't do Sunday lunch with
my
parents. Ever. But I will still talk to her about how she treated you."
 

Vicky pulled back so she could see his face. "Don't."

Cradling his hands around her jaw, he leaned in to kiss her. A gentle kiss, a loving kiss. When he pulled back, they stared at each other and she said it again. "Don't."

 
Her dad was quiet through lunch, and her mum was surprisingly well behaved. She didn't interrogate James, but she did ask after Matt and Jess. Not surprisingly, there was no mention of his mother.
 

Vicky started to clear their plates away as James asked, "Have you lived in Altenchester your whole life, Jane?"

"Born and bred here, just like my parents."

"Do you know anything about Amsall Hall?"

When her mum didn't answer, Vicky looked over in time to see her mum's fake smile and her gaze cast skyward. "Can't say as I do. Is it near here?"

Vicky didn't listen to James's answer as she picked up another plate, too busy wondering why her mum had just lied. Making her way to the kitchen, she rinsed the dishes and stacked them in the dishwasher. Filling the sink with sudsy water, she dumped the pan in and leaned against the countertop.
 

The silence from the other room was filled with her dad's loud voice. "So, James, what do you think about metal detecting?" A smile tugged at Vicky's lips as she imagined James's face at that question.

"Erm… can't say I've given it much thought. A good way to get some exercise, I imagine." She bit her lip at his reply.
Always so tactful.

"It is, lad, it is. Brings a bit of excitement to a walk, I can tell you. It's all in the swing, you know."
 

Vicky closed her eyes.
God, he's such a geek.
When she opened them, her mum was walking into the kitchen, and Vicky tensed.

"I'll give you a hand with those." Picking up a tea towel, she waited for Vicky to start washing up. "So, James seems nice."

"Yes, he is. Which is why I don't understand how you could sit there and lie to his face."

Her mum swallowed, her mouth opening and shutting again, reminding Vicky of a fish out of water. She shook her head and said, "I don't know what you mean. When did I lie to him?"

Vicky glared at her because now she was lying to her as well. This was a side of her mum she'd never seen before, and she didn't like it. "Mum, you're a terrible liar. You put this weird smile on, and you always look up as though asking God for forgiveness."

Her mum let out a little laugh. "I don't know where you get your ideas from, Vicky."

Vicky threw another pan into the sink, making suds fly towards her. "Fine. Just fine." Wiping her hands down her thighs, she pivoted on her heel and strode off. Before she left the kitchen, her mum grabbed her arm.

"It's nothing, really."
 

"But it's something, clearly," Vicky said.

Her mum let out a deep breath and lowered herself onto one of the dining chairs. "It was all so long ago.
I
don't even remember him. But lady muck? Oh, she won't ever forget."

"This has something to do with James's mother?"

Her mum held out her hand and pushed the chair next to her out from under the table. Vicky sat and wondered if she really wanted to hear this.

"Do you remember your grandfather?" Vicky nodded. "Well, he wasn't actually my dad."

"What? I don't understand. How could I not know that?"

"Because he's the only dad I really knew. My real dad died before I was even born. But my mum would show me pictures of him and tell me stories about him."
 

Her mum folded the tea towel on the table and then pulled at the label, staring at it as though it might hold the words she needed to say to Vicky.

"Stories of what a good man he was, honourable, hard-working, and reliable."

Vicky's mouth dropped open, but she couldn't form a coherent thought. "Who? What does that have to do with the Altenburys?"

"My real father, Harry, was the gardener at Amsall Hall. He would tell my mum stories about the visitors that the family would get, the way they dressed, and what they did. Sometimes he would even speak to the younger ones, the ones around his age. The Altenburys were friends with the Amsalls. One might say a little too friendly."

"I'm guessing this is why you and James's mum don't get on, but I still don't understand why."

"Harry and James's grandmother…"

Vicky shot up out of her chair, toppling it in her haste. One hand flew to cover her mouth as the other dropped to the table and she bent over with a groan. "Oh, my God. I… James, we—"

Her mum stood and grabbed her arm. "No, no, no. It wasn't like that. It wasn't like these days. They were in love."

"So…" Vicky waved a hand towards where James and her father were.

Her mum shook her head. "No, Harry may have loved her, but the most they shared would have been a stolen look or two. Before the Altenburys put a stop to even that, anyway."

Vicky glanced up at her mum as she righted her chair and dropped back down into it. "Why would they stop it? And how do you know all of this? How did Grandma?"

Her mum sat back down and took Vicky's hand in both of hers. "It was a different world back then. I think James's mother would still like to live in that world. But a gardener was
way
beneath the likes of an Altenbury. Plus, he was already married to your grandma.

"After he died, your grandma found letters from Mary Altenbury. They were in love." Her mum let out a weary sigh.

 
"Young and in love. Your grandma was fond of Harry, but I don't think she loved him. Not like she loved Jim, the granddad you knew, anyway. And then she found out she was pregnant with me, and Jim… well, he was a good man too."

Vicky let out a laugh that was a little too high-pitched. "History really does repeat itself, doesn't it?"

"What do you mean?"

"James's mother didn't want to rent Spinner's Cottage to me, let alone have me anywhere near James. You know, what with me being just a lowly hairdresser."

Her mum clasped her hand. "Vicky—"

"Are we having pudding or what?"

"Coming, dear," her mum shouted in response to her dad.

Vicky numbly watched her mum dish up crumble and custard, staring after her as she walked out of the kitchen with it, effectively ending their discussion.

They didn't stay for pudding, as they were meeting the others back at James's cottage and Vicky needed a little space from her mum to think about what she'd told her.
 

Vicky listened as the others all updated each other. Matt talked about a festival of torches and the full moon, but her mind wandered back to her mum's kitchen.
Does it even matter? Clearly, it still does to James's mother.

 
"Vicky?"

She looked up to see everybody staring at her. "What?"

James knelt in front of her, placing a hand on each of her knees, and giving them a squeeze. "Are you okay? You've been quiet since we left your parents' house."

She gave him a lopsided smile. "I think I know why your mother doesn't like me."
 

"Our mother doesn't like most people," Jess said with a snort.

She turned her attention back to James when he squeezed her thighs. "I think our grandparents had a thing."

"Oh, my God. Was…? Are you…? Your granddad was Harry!"

Vicky's head whipped back towards Jess as she spoke the name. "How did you know? I only found out at my mum's."

"We found journals that belonged to Matt's gran, Mary," Emma said, coming to sit next to Vicky. "Do you know what happened to Harry?"

"No. My mum said he had died before she was born. All she knows are a few stories her mum shared with her."

Emma looked back towards Matt then up at James. Vicky saw him nod from the corner of her eye. Emma took Vicky's hand, and her stomach flipped in response. She could see Jess's face out of the corner of the eye and knew it couldn't be good if Jess looked that upset.

"Harry and Mary… they tried to fight…" Jess trailed off, staring down at her hands.
 

"Whatever attacked us, we're pretty sure it tried to kill Harry and Mary. We think… it managed to kill Harry in the end," Emma said as she rubbed her hand up and down Vicky's arm.

"Are you okay?" James asked.

Vicky nodded slowly before she shook her head. "It's just… a lot to take in, you know? I find out my granddad's not my granddad, and that my real one actually died fighting whatever is trying to kill us." She glanced up at James. "And your mother hates me because my granddad was a gardener and probably a little too friendly towards your gran."

"What?" James asked as he slipped an arm around her shoulder and drew her against his chest.