‘Come on then, Eve!’
‘What?’ Eve stared up at her aunt from her position on the sofa. She was worn out after a day up at the farm and just wanted to put her feet up and relax for a while. It wasn’t just the physical aspect of the labour that had been hard but the deeper emotional impact of being around the dogs and hearing about what they’d experienced. All the dogs that she had met had been friendly, exuberant and even funny. Except for Gabe. And whenever Eve had thought about him, she’d filled up all over again.
She hadn’t seen Gabe before she’d left but she had looked for him as they’d passed around the back of the stables. He must’ve been hiding inside, though. She had asked Jack again about the big black greyhound but he’d told her to come back to the farm with him later in the week and try again to win the dog’s confidence. Persistence and patience were key, he said. Eve knew that while she was good at being persistent, patience was not her strongest quality, but if that was what she needed, then that was what she’d learn.
‘We have some baking to do.’
‘We do?’
Aunt Mary nodded and held out a hand. ‘I know you’re tired, but Irene is leaving tomorrow and I want to make her some cakes to take with her.’
Eve got to her feet and followed her aunt into the kitchen. ‘You know I can’t—’
‘Bake?’ Aunt Mary interjected. ‘So you’ve said. But you’ll learn.’
Eve went to the sink and washed her hands for what felt like the thousandth time that day, then put on the apron her aunt handed her and waited for instructions.
Aunt Mary handed her a portable scales and a bag of self-raising flour. ‘Weigh out eight ounces, please.’
Eve stared at the flour.
‘Go on, dear. It won’t bite, you know.’
‘Okay then!’ Eve opened the bag of flour and coughed as it puffed up into her face.
‘Careful, Eve, don’t rush. Baking is an art, you know.’
‘Art isn’t one of my strengths either.’
‘Well, with a nice white floury face like that, you could always head to the circus and be a clown instead.’ Mary chuckled at her own joke and Eve grabbed a tea towel and wiped her face.
‘You know, Eve, you didn’t always rush things.’
‘What?’
‘When you were younger and you used to stay here with me, you were far more relaxed.’
‘I was?’
‘Oh yes. I mean, I know your parents were … uh … strict. And when you used to come here even as a very young child it would take you a few days, sometimes a week, to unwind, but it did happen and it was beautiful to see.’
Eve listened carefully, absorbing the information hungrily. So she hadn’t always been so driven, so career-focused and uptight? She knew she’d enjoyed the summers here as a child, but now that Aunt Mary had mentioned it, she did seem to recall a time when she hadn’t walked around with her shoulders taut with tension and when she’d been able to switch off her mind to do other things. Like baking. Yes, they had baked together when she’d stayed here, and if she remembered correctly, she’d enjoyed it.
‘Life has been hard on you, dear. Sadly it is for everyone in some way or other, but we ride the highs and lows as we would a stormy sea and we must make sure we grab hold of the good times and savour them. Like today. For me, this is a good time, being here with my wonderful niece.’
Eve blinked hard. Her vision had blurred. She’d been pushing herself for so long that the idea of a time when she’d been happy just being, just existing, even if it was just the summers, seemed too wonderful. What if she could find that side of herself again and be the woman – or girl, even – who didn’t have to pursue a career just to feel that she was worth something, just to feel some form of security.
Wouldn’t that be just incredible?
Her aunt rubbed her shoulder then gave her a quick hug. ‘It’s okay, Eve. This is a difficult time for you but I promise it will pass. Everything does.’
Eve nodded. The words of comfort meant so much to her. It helped to be told that although she was in a whirling pit of indecision and confusion right now, she would come out the other side. What the other side looked like, she had no idea, but it was there, waiting for her to take the necessary steps to heal.
Aunt Mary released her then placed an upright cheese grater, a small plate and a large mixing bowl on the table, along with a box of eggs, a block of butter, two lemons and a bag of caster sugar. She cut a chunk off the butter. ‘It needs to be room temperature for the chemistry to be right,’ she explained as she dropped it into the bowl. She opened the bag of sugar then tipped a generous amount into the bowl with the butter.
‘How much did you put in?’ Eve asked, her throat finally loose enough for her to speak.
‘About four ounces.’
‘How’d you know you got it right? You didn’t weigh it.’
Mary tapped the side of her nose. ‘I’ve been doing this a long time, Eve. I’m kind of good at estimating.’
‘Okay … What’s next?’
‘Zest one of the lemons over the small plate using the cheesegrater.’
Eve did as her aunt told her, being careful not to catch her fingers on the sharp metal.
‘Now you cream the butter and sugar together until they’re light and fluffy.’
‘Cream?’
‘Basically beat them together,’ Aunt Mary replied.
Eve looked down at her thin arms. She’d removed her jumper when she got back from the farm and now just wore her black T-shirt.
‘Yes, Eve. Give it some welly.’ Aunt Mary smiled, then handed Eve a wooden spoon.
Five minutes later, Eve’s right arm was aching and she had sweat on her brow but the mixture in the bowl was fluffy and her aunt nodded her approval.
‘Now you beat four eggs in a separate bowl and gradually add them to the butter mixture. But mind they don’t curdle.’
Eve tapped an egg against the smaller bowl that Mary had placed on the table and allowed the contents to slide out. ‘Dammit!’
‘What’s wrong?’
‘I got shell in there too.’
‘Here …’ Mary handed her a piece of kitchen roll. ‘Use the corner of this to fish it out. No point wasting a whole egg.’
It took Eve about ten minutes to break all the eggs, because every time she broke another one, she lost a bit of shell. She shuddered as she imagined Irene biting into her favourite lemon drizzle cake only to crunch on a piece of eggshell. That would not be pleasant at all. Once she’d beaten them, she began to add them slowly to the butter and sugar. The mixture became bright yellow as the yolks blended into it and it slipped easily around the bowl.
‘Add some flour if it’s starting to curdle.’
Eve emptied some of the flour from the bowl of the scales into a sieve then shook it over the mixture.
‘That’s the way. I can see you’re concentrating hard there, Eve, because your tongue is sticking out the corner of your mouth.’
‘It is not!’
‘Is so.’ Mary winked at her and Eve stuck her tongue out further at her aunt, then giggled.
‘Stop it now, I’m trying to concentrate.’
As she gradually added the rest of the flour, she was aware how good it felt to be doing something constructive. Something creative. And how good it was to be here with her aunt.
‘Let me check it now.’ Aunt Mary held out her hand for the wooden spoon. She tilted the bowl sideways and expertly spooned the mixture around. ‘That’s perfect, Eve. You just need to add the lemon zest then get it in the oven.’
Eve tipped the small plate of yellow zest over the bowl and brushed it into the mixture, then gave the whole thing another stir.
‘It will take around forty-five minutes to cook,’ Aunt Mary said as she placed a loaf tin lined with baking paper in front of Eve and helped her to pour the cake batter into it.
After Eve had slid the tin carefully into the oven, her aunt beamed at her. ‘See! Not so hard after all.’
‘No. That wasn’t bad,’ Eve said, as a surge of pride warmed her right through. ‘Kind of like a workout too.’ She rubbed her right bicep.
‘Yes, baking can help keep bingo wings at bay!’ Aunt Mary laughed and shook her own arms. ‘Time for a nice cup of tea.’
Eve nodded. ‘That would be lovely.’
When Eve removed the cake from the oven almost fifty minutes later, she placed the tin on the wire rack on the kitchen worktop and sighed. It smelt incredible. And she’d made it herself. With Aunt Mary’s careful guidance, of course, but it was a start.
‘What do I do now?’
‘Prick it all over with a fork, then, as it’s cooling, mix two tablespoons of caster sugar with the juice of both lemons and pour it over the top. It will create a crunchy drizzle once the cake has cooled.’
‘I wish we’d made two of them now.’ Eve licked her lips.
‘Well, let Irene take this one and you can make another one later.’
‘Good plan.’
Eve followed her aunt’s instructions and soon the cake was covered in the sour-sweet drizzle.
‘Well done, Eve! I told you you could do this.’
‘With your help.’
‘You’re better than you think you are, dear. You just lack confidence. It’s got lost in that job of yours. You can enjoy life too, you know. And you will.’
‘I hope so.’
‘This is just the start.’
Eve smiled at her aunt. She really hoped that what she said was right.
‘I’m going to pop down into the village for a while. I’ll take Irene with me so she can stretch her legs. If you want to try again, there are plenty of ingredients in there to use.’ Mary gestured at the cupboards.
‘I might just do that,’ Eve replied.
As Aunt Mary left the kitchen, Eve wondered if she was going to see Edward again. It was none of her business, but she just hoped her aunt was happy, because she deserved to be. And Edward had seemed like a nice man. Perhaps he would feature in Mary’s future plans.
She turned her attention back to the cupboards.
Her stomach flipped.
Could she do this? Could she bake unattended?
Why not?
What was the worst that could happen?
Two hours later, Eve slumped at the kitchen table with her head in her hands. Her back and arms ached and two of her fingers had plasters on. She was exhausted and beyond disappointed.
‘My oh my! What happened here?’
She raised her head to find Jack standing in the doorway gazing at the mess.
‘It looks like a dragon just came and breathed fire on everything.’
Eve buried her face in her arms again. ‘I know,’ she mumbled.
‘Pardon?’ Jack approached her.
She lifted her head. ‘I said I know.’
‘But what did happen? I mean, since dragons don’t exist. At least not to my knowledge.’
‘It’s not funny!’ Eve snapped, her cheeks burning. She must look like such an idiot. Every surface was covered in pots, pans and tins, each one filled with some form of burnt offering.
In front of her on the table was a cake-batter-splodged cookery book by a well-known celebrity baker that Eve had found on Mary’s kitchen shelf. She’d decided to try to stretch herself and rather than making another lemon drizzle cake, which would have been the sensible thing to do, of course, had attempted some much more complicated delights. Only they didn’t look anything like delights when she’d removed them from the oven.
‘I tried to run before I could walk.’
Jack sat opposite her and placed his large hand over one of hers. ‘There’s nothing wrong with a bit of ambition.’
Eve stared into his laughing brown eyes. She knew he was being kind but she was irritated with herself. ‘I should just stick to what I am good at.’
‘And what’s that?’ he asked, his expression neutral, his head tilted.
‘Oh … I don’t know … My job!’ Eve gulped. ‘Oh my job!’ She collapsed onto her hands again and tried to squeeze away the tears that stung her eyes. She bit her lip hard, but try as she might, she couldn’t escape her despair, and she started to shake.
The sobs came in big, gulping waves that racked her frame. She felt like she’d never stop until strong hands took hold of her shoulders and she was turned on her chair to face Jack, who now knelt in front of her. He pulled her firmly against his hard chest and enveloped her in his warm, powerful arms. The kindness of his gesture and the fact that he knew what she needed in that moment made her heart crack, which made her cry harder.
How could she feel so safe in this man’s embrace? She’d never felt like this with Darryl. In fact no man had ever had this effect on her before. Being in Jack’s arms was like coming home; he made her feel like she belonged there. But that was silly. Eve hardly knew him and she’d always sworn that she’d never rely on anyone else for a sense of security. Darryl hadn’t provided it; it just wasn’t the type of man he was. Although she now wondered if she had been glad of that, as it meant she hadn’t depended on him too much so she couldn’t be let down. Her parents hadn’t provided it, not when she was a child or at any point in her life, come to think of it. In fact the only person who’d ever given Eve anything remotely near to love and security was Aunt Mary.
And now there was Jack.
He smelt so good.
He felt so good.
The sound of his strong heartbeat was just so good.
He made Eve feel … so good.
She raised her face and his stubble grazed her forehead and nose. He gazed down at her and she melted into the chocolate-brown depths of his eyes, losing herself in his warmth as a delicious yearning flowed through her. It was like waking up after a long sleep.
She slid her arms around his neck, curled her hands in his hair then leaned closer, closer, until her lips found his.
For a moment, he didn’t move.
Then he gently pulled away and slipped out of her embrace.
Eve froze. Blinked hard. Sniffed.
What did I just do?
‘Oh my God, I’m so sorry!’ She covered her mouth. ‘I didn’t mean to do that! I was just … You were just … Oh, I’m so embarrassed.’ She jumped up and went to the sink. What an idiot! What had made her think he’d want her? But then she hadn’t been thinking, had she? Oh no! She had just been feeling, giving in to the need that coursed through her whenever Jack was around. She turned and stared at him as though she could barely believe he was still there.
‘Eve!’ Jack’s face was pale. ‘It’s okay. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I did want to kiss you but I’m just … I just have … uh … some issues.’
Eve waved a hand. ‘You don’t have to explain anything to me. It was nothing but a blip! I was just emotional and you’re so kind and I was totally out of order. Please, say no more about it!’ Her heart pounded and blood whooshed through her ears.
Jack opened his mouth and seemed about to speak, then he shook his head and rubbed his big hands over his face.
‘I’d better clean this up.’ Eve gestured at the mess.
Jack nodded. ‘Let me give you a hand.’
‘No. Please. Just go.’ Go! Leave me with my shame.
‘Eve, friends help each other out, and I thought that was what we were becoming.’
She bit her lip. Friends. Of course.
‘Yes. Okay. Thank you. That would be really kind.’
But I still wish you’d go.
She pulled on rubber gloves, then picked up a cake tin and started hacking at the burnt mess with a knife. She was mortified but she knew it wasn’t Jack’s fault. If he wanted to be her friend, then that was fine with her. Eve didn’t have many friends and she should be grateful that Jack actually wanted to be one. After what she’d just done, he could have stormed out and never spoken to her again and she would have understood.
Because that was what she always did … she pushed people away.
But Jack wanted to stay. To help and support her.
So why did her chest ache as if she’d been punched? Why did she feel breathless as if that punch had left her winded? Was there a part of her that wanted more from Jack? Even if she did, he’d just made it perfectly clear that all she could ever hope for from him was a platonic relationship.
She’d have to make do with that.
But she didn’t know if she could.
Jack finished drying the mixing bowl then tucked it into the correct cupboard. He’d eaten many meals at Mary’s since moving in as her tenant and had always washed and dried the dishes to show his gratitude. It had been an hour since he’d found Eve in the disaster site that had been Mary’s once spotless and organized cottage kitchen, but now it was finally clean and tidy.
As they’d worked, Eve hadn’t said much to him but he’d sensed that she was hurt. He hadn’t wanted to cause her any pain, but when she’d kissed him, something inside him had exploded and he’d panicked. He was attracted to her, of course he was, but she was wounded and here in Conwenna to heal. Then she would leave. And Jack would stay.
He wanted to get to know her but he was also becoming increasingly afraid. He really liked her, and the barriers he’d erected around himself to keep love out were weakening in her presence. If he let her in, what was there to stop her hurting him just like his wife had done?
Jack had rebuilt himself and his life once before; he didn’t know if he could do it again. He didn’t know if he wanted to do it again. It had been so hard the first time. He knew what it was like to try to maintain a long-distance relationship – he’d done it with Jodie when he was in Afghanistan – and though Bristol might not be that far away, it was far enough. He knew that Eve was a career woman, and that she might go back to her job. If something happened between them, how would he fit into her life? Would she ever have time to visit him here?
Because there was one thing Jack knew for certain: he couldn’t face the idea of moving to a city. He needed to be near the sea, the open space of the horizon that allowed him to breathe. Being in a city would suffocate him with its noises, its towering buildings and its hustle and bustle. He’d tried it after his return from duty, when he’d lived in London for a while. He’d been able to see why other people loved the thriving capital with its proximity to everything a person could want, but it just wasn’t for him. And it wasn’t who he was any more. He needed the freedom of Conwenna Cove, of a seaside haven, and falling in love with a woman who worked in a big city wouldn’t work for him. Or for her. So it was better that they remain just friends.
‘You know, Eve. This one doesn’t look too bad.’ Jack poked at a circular sponge that Eve had tipped onto a plate.
‘It’s meant to be a Victoria sandwich.’
‘So it is,’ Jack replied, as he leaned closer and saw the jam in the middle of the two layers. ‘Could I test it?’
Eve pursed her lips. ‘I’m not sure that’s a good idea …’
‘Oh come on. I’m quite peckish now. Worked up an appetite with all that clearing up.’ He patted his stomach.
Eve offered a small smile. ‘Go on then.’ She cut a slice of the cake, put it on a plate and handed it to him.
He bit into the cake and his mouth was flooded with the sweetness of a soft, light sponge followed by the summery taste of Mary’s home-grown strawberries. He chewed, swallowed, then took another bite.
Eve stood in front of him, eyes wide. She watched every mouthful, until he’d eaten it all.
‘And?’ She raised her eyebrows and the vulnerability in her eyes made him want to reach out and hug her.
‘Absolutely delicious.’ He licked his lips.
‘You’re lying, Jack. It looks like a burnt Frisbee.’
‘I’m not, I swear! It’s light and crumbly. The flavour is perfect. And yes, the outside is slightly well done but I quite like that about it. It’s tasty, I promise.’
Eve flushed, which made her even prettier, and he wondered for a moment if she coloured like that when she was aroused. He shook the wayward thought away. It was something he would never know.
‘Okay then. Thank you.’
‘No problem.’ He watched as she flicked a tea towel over the Aga’s front to dust away flour that had landed there, then tucked her hands into her jean pockets. She stood in the middle of the kitchen as if unsure about what came next. It was all Jack could do not to cross the room and pull her into his arms again. He’d liked holding her, cradling her petite frame against his chest. She was delicate, fragile, and it made something in him want to take care of her; to make her feel better. But it was dangerous territory. To get close to her, emotionally or physically, was risky for him and for her. He’d better make his exit now, while his willpower was still strong.
‘I’d better get going now, Eve. Thanks for the cake. I’ll uh … see you tomorrow.’
‘Really? You don’t have to go, Jack. I could make us a cup of tea.’
‘No. I’ve got things to do. But thanks.’
Stay strong!
‘Sure,’ she replied. ‘Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow then.’
She turned away and left the kitchen, but not before Jack caught a glimpse of the hurt in her eyes. And it made him feel pretty bad. Being strong certainly had its drawbacks.