Читать книгу Return To Bluebell Hill - Rebecca Pugh - Страница 11

Chapter Three

On the morning of her parents’ funeral, Jessica dressed slowly. She could hear Esme pottering about in the kitchen below but didn’t feel ready to go downstairs and face the day ahead. She wasn’t quite sure what was expected of her, of how to react or whether she was supposed to cry or remain passive-faced. It was such a weird situation and she felt so emotionally abnormal.

She tugged her hair up into a ponytail and stared at herself in the mirror above the chest of drawers.

The churning, twisting feeling that had appeared after the very first phone call with Esme returned to her as she studied her reflection warily. The strange thing was, her reflection looked calm and untroubled. Her lips didn’t quiver, her eyes weren’t wet with tears and she didn’t have shadows beneath them that would hint at the restless nights. Instead, she looked normal, and completely unaffected by the news of her parents’ death. For the millionth time, she questioned whether she was emotionless. She’d thought about it a lot lately, about how it didn’t seem normal for her to be reacting in this way. Most people would have been racked with guilt, sore-eyed from the crying and frail from grief taking over the need for food. There was definitely a thump of sadness when she thought clearly about them and that they were no longer present but then, she’d never felt like they’d been present when they’d been alive anyway, so what was the difference now? She was sure, too, that the sadness only made itself known because of the fact that now there really would be no second chances, no opportunities to make things right. It was the same sort of feeling a person would get when trying to fall asleep after having a bad argument with someone that they cared about, that niggling feeling that burrowed away because you knew that you wouldn’t get a wink of sleep until things were sorted out and back to normal. But things had never been normal, so really, this situation had no other state to return to.

Her childhood had been spent under the watchful, adoring eye of Esme who had been employed by her parents as Jessica’s nanny. Miriam and Arthur McAdams had worked non-stop, leaving Jessica in the care of Esme day in, day out. They had important, busy jobs, on-call 24/7, called upon to deal with emergencies. She’d rarely set eyes on them, even when, at the age of five, she’d sat at the top of the staircase and waited for them to walk through the door. She’d refused to go to bed when prompted by Esme. In the end, unable to keep her eyes open a second longer, she’d fallen asleep with her forehead against the wooden banister. Esme had had to scoop her up and tuck her into her bed.

‘Jessica? Are you awake, dear?’ A gentle knock sounded at the door. Jessica stepped rapidly away from the mirror as Esme’s voice filtered into her consciousness.

‘Yes, I’m just getting dressed,’ she called back, trying to keep her voice level, blinking around the room, trying to remember what exactly she’d been doing before becoming fixated by her reflection in the mirror. ‘I’ll be down in just a sec.’ She took one last look at herself and stared hard at the face that looked back at her. After her self-evaluation, she turned away sharply. Stuffing her things into her bag, she left the room and headed downstairs.

***

They left Esme’s cottage in silence and made tracks towards Bluebell Hill church. It was only a short walk to their destination but it felt like it lasted a lifetime. They passed the village square and the school which Jessica had attended when she’d been little. The sound of children laughing and squealing filtered through the green fence. They walked by the post-office and a handful of people who Esme acknowledged with a polite smile or a quick ‘Hello’ until eventually, they arrived at the wrought-iron gates of the church.

Headstones of the deceased were visible around the side of the building, and a cluster of suitably-attired people surrounded the open doors chatting quietly amongst themselves. It was enough to make Jessica’s legs wobble.

She paused before stepping onto the cream stone path which led up to the church doors. She wasn’t sure whether she wanted to take that step over the threshold. She knew that once she did, the circumstances surrounding her parents would suddenly become real, harsh and unable to hide away from. She’d been ignoring the reality steadfastly since hearing of it but today, that would change. For good. And there wasn’t a single thing that she could do about it. She gulped as she blinked at the church, imagining the two coffins inside, the vicar, the people, the tears and the emotions. Was she strong enough to do this? She went to reach for her phone to call Sarah. She needed some of her best friend’s support now more than ever.

‘Jessica? Do you want to take a few minutes first?’ Esme’s small hand squeezed her arm gently.

She nodded, grateful for Esme’s never-ending support. ‘Yes. Yes, please. Can we? I just need a little extra time, that’s all. Just a few minutes.’ She was rambling as Esme led her away from the entrance, working herself up into even more of state. How was this real? Why was it happening? Was it to teach her a lesson for running away and not coming back to Bluebell Hill when they’d still been alive? But what would have become of her if she’d stayed? A million thoughts went around and around in her mind as she stared, unseeing, ahead of herself.

‘Jessica, listen to me.’ Esme turned Jessica to face her and placed her hands on her shoulders. ‘You will get through this, okay? I’ll be right beside you every step of the way. I promise. We’ll do this together. If you want to cry, you cry. I know you’re confused about how to feel, but don’t be. Whatever emotion comes to you when we’re in there, just let it out. Don’t try to fight it, don’t question it. Just let it happen.’

Jessica took a few deep, calming breaths and nodded. ‘You’re right.’ She looked into Esme’s eyes and knew she’d make it through anything if she had Esme beside her. ‘What time do we need to be in there?’

‘Eleven.’ Esme checked the time on her watch. ‘We still have a few minutes so we’ll stay here until you feel calm enough, okay? No rushing into this. You take your time. That’s all you can do.’

‘Okay.’

They remained there for a couple of minutes until Esme’s head lifted. ‘Oh, Rueben’s here.’

‘Who’s here?’ Jessica glanced up from the ground and saw Esme moving off towards someone. She turned slightly to see who it was. Her mouth dropped open in surprise when she spotted the familiar face.

Their paths had crossed again, although not in the best circumstances, she had to admit. She watched him taking long strides up the path towards the church, dressed in a sharp black suit, bright white shirt and black tie beneath the tailored jacket. His hands were tucked neatly away in his trouser pockets. Jessica turned quickly, annoyed that this was the place where they were to meet again. She could hear chatter coming from behind her and realised that she probably looked ridiculous standing there with her back turned to them. She turned around and attempted a weak smile their way.

‘Rueben, come and meet Jessica,’ Esme said, dragging one of his suited arms in her direction. ‘This is Jessica, Mr and Mrs McAdams’ daughter.’ She pushed Rueben forward, a little forcefully, Jessica noticed. They came face to face.

It appeared that Rueben hadn’t yet realised who she was and was smiling easily at Esme’s insistence until he was directly in front of her and the easy smile slipped from his face, leaving in its place a confused frown. ‘Mr and Mrs McAdam’s daughter?’ he asked. His green eyes darted about her face quickly as if trying to make sense of it all. ‘Jessica McAdams?’ And then, just like that, Jessica saw the exact moment of realisation. His features all seemed to shift at the same time. He glanced towards the church, back at her, and then pulled an apologetic face. Anyone with half a brain would have been able to put two and two together.

Jessica shoved a hand towards him to give herself a reason to break eye contact. Perhaps she could pretend that the whole Cornwall thing hadn’t happened? ‘Yes, Jessica McAdams.’

He glanced at her waiting hand but returned his gaze to her face curiously. Finally, he took her hand with his own. It was huge compared to hers. Warm, too. ‘A pleasure to meet you, Jessica. I’m Rueben. Rueben Greer.’ They shook in a very business-like way before he turned his attention back to Esme. Jessica looked down at her hand, the warmth of his palm still present on her skin.

‘We’d better get inside. The service will be starting soon.’ He cast a wary glance at Jessica. ‘I’m sorry for your loss. It must be a really difficult time for you.’

She wasn’t sure if she deserved his sympathies but she smiled gratefully at him anyway. ‘Thank you.’

They continued to watch each other curiously until Esme linked her arm with Jessica’s. ‘Are you ready, dear?’

They crunched up the stony path towards the church. Jessica ignored her surroundings, the headstones, the sorrowful faces as they reached the church doors, people sniffing into handkerchiefs as they headed inside. She searched for Esme’s hand as they found a suitable place to be seated in the church. As the service began, she clutched tighter the small hand in hers and allowed herself to cry, just like Esme had said.

It was the strangest thing to feel like an imposter at her own parents’ funeral but tears still fell. They fell for the days she’d spent as a child wishing that her parents loved her. They were tears for the hopes of a sad little girl, who even the love and care of Esme couldn’t make better. They were tears for the loneliness, despite Esme being at her side almost every single day. Tears for dinners eaten with Esme rather than her parents, days in the garden with Esme, tears for the nights she’d spent forcing herself to stay awake to see her parents, tears for mornings when she had attempted to wake up earlier than usual to catch them on their way out, only to find that they’d already left for yet another day at the hospital. Tears for birthdays when it had been Esme telling her to make a wish as she blew out her birthday candles, instead of her mother and father. She wasn’t crying because of Esme’s constant presence in her childhood, but for the lack of her parents’. It was such a shame that you couldn’t turn back time.

The service seemed to slip by in just moments and before she was aware of it, people were filing out of the church, dabbing at their eyes with hankies and snivelling sadly for the loss of two such hard-working, respectable people.

***

The three of them left the church and blinked in the early afternoon sunshine as they walked. For the first time since she’d arrived in Bluebell Hill, Jessica noticed the pearly white clouds in the sky. They felt ridiculously appropriate for what the morning had held for her.

‘A beautiful service,’ Rueben commented politely as they walked down the path towards the village square. A group of people were following behind them, back to their daily lives after a bleak morning spent in the church.

Esme agreed. ‘It was, wasn’t it? A beautiful send-off. Don’t you agree, Jessica?’

Jessica glanced at both of them. She felt slightly dizzy and not at all with it. ‘Yes, it was beautiful.’ And it had been. She wondered now, as they walked back through the village square, who the people were who had brought those flowers? She could have stepped forward to have a read of the cards, say a few words herself, but hadn’t felt able to. She didn’t feel like she had a right to do that. They may have been her parents but their relationship had been non-existent. It couldn’t suddenly change because they had passed away.

‘Do you fancy joining us for lunch, Rueben?’ Esme asked once they were nearing the cottage. The air was warm and the birds were singing happily. Jessica wished she could join in with them. She wished she had something to sing about. Instead, she angled her face towards the sun and allowed the rays to dance across her skin, to somehow help her in her hour of need. The clouds had only been fleeting and now, as she looked up, the sky was once again cloud free. A smooth blue was spread out above her like an ocean.

Rueben agreed to lunch after much persuasion from Esme. The old woman hurried back to the cottage and left Jessica and Rueben trailing behind. ‘Don’t rush, Jessica,’ she called.

Rueben laughed lightly at Esme’s retreating figure before growing quiet. They walked in silence, both of them unsure of what to say to the other. Firstly, they’d just attended her parents’ funeral which of course made conversation awkward and secondly, in Rueben’s mind, she was not supposed to be in Bluebell Hill but in Cornwall. She wished she hadn’t lied to him on the train. It would have been so much easier for her now if she had just told him the truth from the beginning. There was always the chance that their paths wouldn’t have crossed but things hadn’t quite worked out that way. Things very rarely worked out the way you wanted them to, she grumbled to herself.

‘So, Cornwall, huh?’ Rueben asked eventually. ‘Did you change your mind? Decide to stop off in Bluebell Hill instead?’ His voice was playful and he was obviously attempting to lighten the tone. She was grateful but it didn’t make anything better or easier.

She stared straight ahead as she tried to think of an appropriate reply. How awkward was this? ‘It’s a messy situation,’ she said in the end, hoping he wouldn’t try to pry any further into it. ‘In this instance, a lie was prettier than the truth. I wished I’d been going to Cornwall.’ She couldn’t have just blurted out that she was going back for her parents’ funeral when they’d met on the train. It would have stilted their conversation and destroyed the tone that she’d enjoyed sharing with him as they’d chatted during the journey. She’d enjoyed talking to him without the mention of a funeral and she’d chosen to keep it that way. No one could blame her, could they? Who knew what to say when someone mentioned a funeral? She certainly didn’t so she couldn’t have expected Rueben to continue with conversation after such a dark confession.

Rueben nodded, as if he understood. ‘I see. I guess Cornwall did seem more attractive given the circumstances.’ He smiled at her and she couldn’t help but return it. He had such a nice smile. ‘I had no idea they had a daughter. Your parents, I mean.’ He raised a single eyebrow in her direction. ‘I hope that didn’t sound rude.’

‘Not rude at all and like I said, messy situation.’ She shrugged it off but the weight of the situation didn’t shift from off her shoulders. ‘How did you know them?’ She turned to him, interested to know more.

‘I worked for them, actually,’ Rueben replied. ‘I tended the gardens at Bluebell House. That’s my thing, you see. Gardening. I love it. Especially Bluebell House’s gardens.’ He nodded towards something, and Jessica turned, surprised to spy the roof of Bluebell House just visible in the distance behind the overgrown hedges. ‘I was sad to hear of their death.’ He cleared his throat as if turning away from that particular road of conversation. ‘My parents and I moved to Bluebell Hill years ago. I love it here, just as much as my folks, I think. Which is odd because most twenty-something men prefer the wild life. You know, clubbing and pubbing it. Don’t they?’ He grinned at her. ‘The woods, the peace and quiet. It’s much more appealing to me than getting drunk.’ He looked at her. ‘What about you?’

She was surprised. Most men adored that type of lifestyle. How refreshing to meet a man with a different mind-set. Glancing up, she saw that Esme’s cottage was coming into view and just in time. She could avoid answering his question. She picked up the pace as they continued towards it, acutely aware of Rueben waiting patiently for her reply. Truthfully, she didn’t really want to speak about herself. The only people who really knew about her past were Sarah and Esme. Esme had lived it right beside her. Two people was more than enough to share secrets with. Rueben had no need to know about her past in Bluebell Hill but she was thankful for his company.

‘There’s not much to say about me,’ she offered eventually. ‘I live in London, I work for a publishing company as a marketing manager. I’m just back in Bluebell Hill for a little while to sort a few things out following the death of my parents. I won’t be here long. A fleeting visit really.’

‘I’m presuming you lived with your parents before you went to London? When you were little? Or...’ He trailed off, obviously hoping she’d fill in the gaps.

‘Or,’ she replied quickly, preferring that option to the one where she’d have to explain herself. ‘It’s complicated and you’d probably get confused with all of the crazy details. Plus, after this morning, I don’t feel like talking about it. I’m sure you understand.’ She was beginning to grow hot and bothered as she felt the weight of his curious stare but she refused to make eye contact so instead, stared straight ahead.

‘Okay. That’s fine.’ He held his hands up in defence, smiling easily behind them. ‘It’s none of my business, I know. But hey, you’re lucky you have Esme. She’s great, isn’t she?’ Rueben looked towards the cottage fondly and Jessica studied the side of his face as he did so. It looked like he had a soft spot for Esme, too. It warmed her heart to know that she wasn’t the only one who was fond of the woman.

She smiled and nodded in agreement as she reached the cottage and hurried up the path, eager to get inside and away from any further questions that Rueben might have. She was constantly aware of his presence behind her though. She couldn’t quite decide whether she liked it or not. Only time would tell. She pushed open the cottage door and left it open for Rueben.

***

During a lunch of salad in the cottage garden, bowls scattered across the iron table providing a selection of tasty food from new potatoes to crunchy carrot sticks, Jessica learnt that Rueben was a handyman and helpful gardener in Bluebell Hill. Esme complimented his skills and told Jessica of how the women in the village called him round not only to trim their hedges but to admire him up a set of ladders, too. Rueben shrugged it all off modestly, throwing a couple of handsome, amused grins Jessica’s way, to which she couldn’t help but giggle in return. Whenever Rueben smiled his green eyes lit up, appearing more vibrant somehow. It was hard not to look at his strong neck muscles when he threw his head back to laugh. Everything about the man was pleasing to look at, Jessica realised. Absolutely everything.

She found out that Rueben’s father owned a farm shop a couple of miles away from the village, selling eggs, hefty sacks of potatoes, carrots and radishes that he’d grown himself at his allotments. Rueben’s mother was an avid cook and no longer worked but spent her days in the kitchen of their small home that sat prettily on the outskirts of Bluebell Hill. ‘She’s happiest at home in the kitchen,’ Rueben had explained, smiling fondly as he spoke about her. ‘And she cooks the best food in the world, take it from me. I sometimes miss living at home just because of that fact. Thankfully, I don’t live too far away, just the next town over, so I still stop off there sometimes if I’m feeling peckish.’ He grinned cheekily, completely at ease with himself and with the company that he was sharing.

As he told them childhood tales, Jessica became captivated by him, slowly forgetting about the emotional upheaval of the morning. His enthusiasm for gardening and Bluebell Hill itself, as well as going on morning runs and visiting his nieces and nephews, had Jessica sitting up a little straighter in her chair, laughing and smiling and willing him to carry on. His smile was infectious and she was eager to hear more about Rueben and his quiet life. Wanting to know more.

Eventually, once their plates were empty, conversation turned towards Bluebell House. When Rueben began to direct questions at Jessica in regards to it, she could feel herself retreating, not wanting to reveal too much, beginning to clam up like an oyster shell. She couldn’t help it. It was automatic. Any mention of her childhood home or her parents, and she felt her throat tightening, snatching away the ability to speak. She’d been having such a good time, too.

‘I guess Bluebell House has been left to you, Jessica?’ Rueben asked as the day began to wind down. The sky was softening as evening began to creep in. ‘It’s such a beautiful place. I’m still taking care of the gardens despite no one being there. I don’t like the thought of it all going to tatters. A garden like that deserves only the best love and care.’

‘You sound very fond it,’ Jessica commented as a look of pride passed over his handsome features.

‘Oh, I am,’ Rueben enthused. ‘Your parents were the first people to take me on when I decided to offer my gardening services in the village. They entrusted their gardens to my care and I couldn’t thank them enough. Thankfully, they were impressed with my work and told me I had a permanent place there if I wanted it. Once the village folk were aware that I was working there, they wanted my services too. Mind you, I didn’t see much of your parents after that first visit. I was only seventeen. I’d never known two people to be out of their home as much as they were. It was always empty inside, which I thought was a real shame. If it had been my home, I would have been there every day.’ He laughed. ‘I had a spare set of keys to let myself in case I ever needed anything but I rarely saw them besides the odd passing glimpse.’

Jessica knew that feeling only too well. Her parents had been the two most absent people she had ever known. ‘Yes, they were very busy, my parents,’ she said, trying to keep the bitterness from her voice. She cleared her throat quickly. ‘Still, I’m glad you love it so much and that you’re still taking care of the gardens. It’s nice to know someone cares about the place despite the owners no longer being around.’ She studied the table.

‘Do you know what you’ll do with it? Bluebell House, I mean?’ Rueben couldn’t seem to meet her eyes as he asked the question and, for the first time, Jessica thought she saw sadness in his own. He really did love that house, she realised, watching his face carefully.

She chewed her lip and looked at Esme for some sort of support, but then finally, she shrugged. ‘I have no idea,’ she answered truthfully. ‘I mean, what am I supposed to do with it? It’s huge, way too big for me. And it’s never really felt like home.’ She allowed that confession to hang in the silent air for a few moments, wanting to take it back as soon as the words had left her mouth.

‘You don’t need to decide right now, dear,’ Esme said briskly, rising from her seat and gathering the empty glasses. ‘You have more than enough time to reach a sensible decision. Anyway, let’s get this lot inside.’

Rueben stood immediately and went to grab some of the empty bowls but Esme shooed him away. ‘And that would be my cue to leave.’ He planted a gentle kiss on Esme’s cheek as he thanked her for the lunch and then turned to Jessica. ‘It’s been lovely to meet you,’ he said, smiling warmly. ‘I hope we meet again soon. I’m sure we will.’ He held eye contact with her for a second longer before turning away and leaving through a gate at the side of the cottage.

‘Such a lovely boy, isn’t he?’ Esme cooed after his departure.

Jessica smiled as she followed Esme inside. She took the plates and cups from the woman’s arms and deposited them in the kitchen sink. He is rather lovely, she thought to herself as Esme closed the back door and joined her to get started on the washing up. Rather lovely indeed.