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Biscuits and Bunting
ISBN # 978-1-78184-000-9
©Copyright S.A. Meade 2012
Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright May 2012
Edited by Rebecca Douglas
Total-E-Bound Publishing
This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination
and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or
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Published in 2012 by Total-E-Bound Publishing, Think Tank, Ruston Way, Lincoln, LN6 7FL,
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Stiff Upper Lip
BISCUITS AND BUNTING
S.A. Meade
www.total-e-bound.com
Kieran cooks up a storm for the village Diamond Jubilee celebrations, but he’s not ready for the
turbulence caused by the new ‘lord of the manor’.
Kieran Lawson really wasn’t all that crazy about being co-opted onto the village Diamond
Jubilee Organising Committee, but he has a catering business to run and he needs all the
opportunities he can get.
When Committee business brings him to Neil Hamlyn’s doorstep, he decides that getting
involved with the celebrations isn’t going to be quite the ordeal he thought it would be.
How long will it be before business turns to pleasure, and what on earth will the villagers
think, especially when Neil’s ex turns up to throw a spanner in the works?
Dedication
With thanks to Alex for her mad beta reading skills.
Trademarks Acknowledgement
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following
wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:
WRVS: WRVS Ltd
Waitrose: Waitrose Ltd; John Lewis Partnership
WI: Women’s Institute
Cellophane: Innovia Films Ltd
Coronation Street: ITV Studios
Mercedes: Diamler AG
Stomp: Stomp UK
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Chapter One
I stared down at the anaemic remains of the biscuit. I was late to the meeting, which
meant I’d ended up with the plain ones, the ones the WRVS always hand out to stranded
refugees alongside a cup of grossly milky tea. I didn’t know which was worse—the soggy
biscuit or Cornelia Parker rabbiting on about the Jubilee celebrations.
“What do you think, Kieran?”
I abandoned the biscuit and glared across the table, mildly fascinated by the concertina
pleats on Cornelia’s upper lip, the hallmark of a forty-a-day smoker.
“About what?”
“The fact that Mr Hamlyn hasn’t responded to the Committee’s request to use the
grounds of the Hall for the Jubilee celebrations.”
“He hasn’t?”
“Not a word.”
“Has anyone actually seen Mr Hamlyn since he moved in?” This was Brenda Hall, the
village postmistress. “He hasn’t been in the shop.”
“That’s because he has his groceries delivered from Waitrose.” I’d seen the van turn
into the long gravel drive more than a few times. “Perhaps he’s not one for getting involved
in village things. For all we know, he could be a gibbering recluse with a penchant for
collecting abandoned cats.”
I couldn’t blame the man for avoiding getting involved with this lot. I was only doing it
because I ran a catering business and was considered the ‘go to’ person for all things edible.
Plus, it was a hell of a boost for the business.
Cornelia pursed her lips, bristling. “Must you always be so facetious?”
“What do you want me to do? Knock on his door and demand he let us use the
grounds?”
I found myself the object of several hopeful glances.
Cornelia’s pleats smoothed out. “I think that’s an excellent idea, from one businessman
to another.”
Think of the business, think of the business.
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“All right. I’ll go and see him. I can’t promise anything. I’ll be lucky if I get past the
gates.”
“It’s worth a try. Bless you, Kieran.” Brenda leaned across the table and patted my
hand.
“I’ll go tomorrow. It’s best to get it over with and it gives us time to find another venue
if he says no.”
The nods of approval told me I’d finally said the right thing. My reward was being able
to zone out for the rest of the meeting. I gazed out of the window and considered my plan of
action. I wouldn’t have done any of this if it wasn’t for the fact that my business was
perilously close to going tits up. No one wanted executive lunches any more. These days it
was sandwiches and bags of crisps. Not the best way for a catering business to break even, let
alone make money.
* * * *
The first hurdle was the huge pair of wrought-iron gates, guarded by an intercom
screwed into one of the stone pillars. I pressed the button and waited, trying not to stare at
the security camera parked on top of the other pillar. I did think about tugging my forelock.
“Hello.”
I glanced at the camera. “I’d like to see Mr Hamlyn, if that’s possible.”
“Can I ask what it’s in connection with?” The voice, distorted by static, was machine-
like in its neutrality.
“I’m here to talk about the Diamond Jubilee celebrations next year. I know it’s a bit
early, but the Organising Committee sent Mr Hamlyn a letter. As we haven’t heard anything,
I decided to pay a call on Mr Hamlyn. If that’s all right. I also brought a welcome basket.” I
held the basket out for inspection, not that the camera probably picked up all that much.
There was a brief pause. I watched a blackbird hop across the drive while I waited. The
basket was getting heavy.
The gates snapped back with a decisive clang. The blackbird took flight and I stepped
on to the drive. The house rose out of a smooth, green lawn—the venue of the previous
village Jubilee celebrations. The sharp, sweet scent of freshly mown grass tickled my nose as
I walked along the drive, wishing I hadn’t put so much stuff in the sodding basket.
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The front door was open and someone stood in the doorway—well, leaned in the
doorway—arms folded across his chest. He watched me haul the basket up the steps and
smiled.
“I’m here to see Mr Hamlyn. I’m Kieran Lawson from the Village Jubilee Committee.”
The man straightened and held out his hand. “I’m Neil Hamlyn. It’s nice to meet you.”
I’d expected some paunchy, middle-aged man in a pin-striped suit or golfing gear. Neil
Hamlyn was tall, slender and no older than the low end of the thirties. I certainly hadn’t
expected jeans and a white shirt, or the close cropped red-brown hair.
“Here’s a little welcome gift.” I handed him the basket.
“Thank you.” He peered through the cellophane. “Food…that’s always welcome. Is this
courtesy of the local WI?”
“No, it’s courtesy of me. I run a catering business. These are just a few things I threw
together.”
“Come in and have a drink and you can tell me all about this Diamond Jubilee stuff.”
He carried the basket into the house and I followed him along a shadowed corridor.
“Wine, beer, something stronger, something wussy?” Hamlyn set the basket on a
granite-covered island in the middle of a vast kitchen. “I have just about anything. I was just
about to make myself a gin and tonic.”
“That’ll do nicely.” I leaned against another granite-topped counter and admired the
kitchen, the acres of worktops, stainless steel, a six-burner range and double oven, a fridge-
freezer the size of a fat man’s coffin and even a twenty-four-bottle wine cooler. An array of
pans hung from hooks above the island—proper pans, not just pretty, pain-in-the arse copper
bottomed pans. It was a kitchen I’d kill to work in.
Unaware of his guest’s kitchen envy, my host sorted through the fridge and produced a
bottle of tonic and a lemon. He filled two tall glasses with ice from a dispenser in the freezer
door, slopped a generous measure of gin over the ice, and added a wedge of lemon and a
decent amount of tonic water. I didn’t relish weaving my way home lightheaded with a
surfeit of juniper juice.
Hamlyn handed me a glass. “Do you mind if I open the basket?”
“Not at all.”
He removed the cellophane and picked up the business card I’d tucked behind the jar of
piccalilli. “Lawson’s Larder, catering for all occasions.” He looked at me. “That’s you?”
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I sipped my drink. “That’s me. I made everything in there.”
Hamlyn set the jar on the counter and sorted through the other bits and pieces—blue
cheese straws, salad dressing, white chocolate brownies, winter salad, marinara sauce,
biscuits, onion marmalade and other pantry fripperies. “That’s quite a selection. Thank you.”
“My pleasure.”
“We may as well go and sit somewhere comfortable, rather than stand around the
kitchen.”
“Fine.” I trailed after him, taking a moment to admire his arse, which the faded jeans
framed beautifully.
He led me into a cavernous living room—couches and chairs were scattered around
three tall windows and a fireplace. We settled into a couple of chairs beside a window.
“So, tell me about this Jubilee thing, then.”
I set my glass down. “It’s been a tradition that big village celebrations were always held
on the grounds here. The previous family had lived in the village for generations and so it
was always a given. A few of the Committee members were hoping that the tradition could
be continued with the Diamond Jubilee next year. We sent a letter but, since we received no
reply, I was ‘volunteered’ to come and speak to you.”
“A letter? It’s quite possible I received it and it’s languishing in my secretary’s in-tray.
She’s been away on holiday for a couple of weeks and, before that, she was playing catch-up
after the move. I’ll have her fish it out tomorrow.”
“Thanks. I won’t get a moment’s peace from the other Committee members until they
get an answer.”
“What do they intend to do on my lawn?” Hamlyn leant back in his chair.
“Set up a few tables, a marquee, if the weather’s lousy. There’ll be bunting, sandwiches,
a few kegs of beer, kids’ games. All very sedate. I can email you photos of the Golden Jubilee
party if you like.”
“It sounds harmless enough.”
“I’m sure it will be. We’d clean up when we’re done, of course.”
“I should hope so.” He reached for his drink. “If you don’t mind my saying, you don’t
seem the village committee type.”
“What’s a village committee type?”
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“Old ladies with knitting bags and poodles, retired grumpy brigadiers and the local
vicar.”
“I’m certainly none of those.”
Hamlyn raised an eyebrow. “I can see that.” He was frank in his scrutiny. His eyes were
a brilliant green-blue. “So why are you on the Committee?”
“I was roped into it because of the catering angle. I don’t mind. The more people try my
food the better. It’s good business.” I almost wished I had a cushion to hide behind. I hadn’t
been eyed up like that for a long time, back when I was out in the world, hanging out in
pubs, on the prowl for some company.
A phone rang. We both dug into our pockets.
“Mine,” Hamlyn said. “Excuse me a minute. I have to take this.” He rose and wandered
across the room, the phone pressed to his ear.
I glanced around, looking for hints to my host’s life. There wasn’t much, a handful of
canvases spaced around the walls, mainly nineteenth century horse paintings and racing
prints. There were a couple of photographs on the mantelpiece, of Hamlyn standing beside a
racehorse. It was enough for me to deduce he probably owned a horse or two. The
furnishings didn’t give much away either—trendy sculptured couches without arms to fall
asleep against. In spite of the fireplace, it wasn’t possible to feel comfortable in such a vast
space.
“No, that’s it. Don’t call again.” Hamlyn’s voice was suddenly cold and clipped. “I
mean it.” He snapped the phone shut.
I looked out of the window, uncomfortable with the anger, feeling I shouldn’t have
been there, shouldn’t have heard that.
“I’m sorry.” Hamlyn returned to his chair and tossed the phone onto a small table.
“That’s a call I wish I hadn’t taken.”
“Shall I go?”
“No, no, you’re fine. We won’t be disturbed again. I’ve turned the bloody thing off.” He
was suddenly all charm and smiles. “So you joined the Committee for the sake of your
business. That’s very noble. How many meetings do you have to endure?”
“Only one a month at the moment. It’ll get worse next year.” The gin was going down
altogether too easily.
Hamlyn stared at the bottom of his empty glass. “Fancy another one?”
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“I’d better not. I don’t want to impose.”
“Believe me, you’re not imposing.” He stood and took my glass. “I’ll be back in a
minute.”
“You’d better make mine a weak one.” I settled back into the chair, mellow from the
gin.
“I will. I’ll just waft gin fumes over the tonic. That should do, shouldn’t it?”
“That would be fine. I won’t be able to walk home otherwise.”
Hamlyn returned a few minutes later with refreshed drinks and bounty from my gift
basket. “I thought I might as well sample the wares while you’re here.” He took a cheese
straw.
I waited for him to taste it, trying not to make a mental leap when he held the end of it
to his lips. Hell, I didn’t even know if he was gay but I watched him eat the cheese stick and
wished he was.
“Very nice.” Hamlyn helped himself to another one. “Very moreish. I may have to put
in a standing order for these.”
“Feel free.”
“I intend to. What else do you do?”
“I mainly cook meals for people who can’t be arsed to do it themselves. I do dinner
parties, business lunches, parties…that kind of thing.”
“Here in the village?”
“I rent a unit in a converted farm building on the other side of the village. We’re close
enough to Swindon that I pick up some good business from there. I’m doing well enough
that I have my own secretary and a couple of people to help in the kitchen.” I tried my best
not to sound like a salesman.
“So if I have a business meeting and I need to feed people I can call you?”
“Please do. I thought you’d have a cook.”
“No. It seems pointless to hire a cook just for one person. I can easily pop something in
the microwave.” He looked at me. “So I can buy stuff from you to stick in the microwave?”
“I usually recommend that people warm things up in the oven or on the stove—it’s
nicer that way.”
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“You’d better send me your menus then.” Hamlyn fished about in his back pocket,
pulled out his wallet and produced a card, which he pressed into my hand. “Can you email
me?”
I pocketed the card. “I’ll do it first thing tomorrow.”
“Thanks.” I offered up a silent prayer of thanks to the Committee. If nothing else, I had
new business, which was always a good thing.
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Chapter Two
Brenda handed me a book of stamps. “So you’re the hero of the hour, according to
Cornelia.”
“How do you reckon that?” I pulled my gloves back on, braced for the onslaught of
cold November rain.
“She had a letter from Mr Hamlyn this morning saying he’d be happy to accommodate
the Jubilee celebrations. You’re a very clever boy, Kieran.”
Not a popular one, judging from the faces of the people waiting behind me in the post
office queue. “It wasn’t difficult. He seemed very agreeable when we spoke about it.”
“Still, it’s nice to know he’s supportive.”
I backed away. “I’d better get a move on. I have things to do.”
Brenda smiled and gave me a little wave. I sidled past the disgruntled customers and
slipped out into the street.
I walked, head down, towards the farm. I had several orders for dinners to take care of
and I wanted the warmth of the kitchen, the aroma of sautéed onions and steamed up
windows. Cars swept past, splashing water onto the pavement, and smoke coiled from
chimneys. Winter was on the way and my order book was filling rapidly with Christmas
parties and lunches.
“Hello. I was just coming to see you.”
I glanced up, not noticing the low-slung car slowing beside me. Neil Hamlyn’s breath
escaped in a soft cloud of vapour. The muted thump of the bass escaped from the car’s sound
system. “You were?”
“Climb in. I’ll give you a lift.”
I was all too happy to escape the rain. I slid into the front seat.
Hamlyn turned the stereo off. “I was coming to pick up my week’s dinners…assuming
they’re ready.”
“They are. They’re in the fridge.”
He grinned. “Excellent. I don’t half fancy that coq au vin tonight. I wanted to talk to you
about something, too. Would that be all right?”
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“That depends on what you wanted to talk about.” I made a feeble attempt to flirt.
The slow click of the indicator heralded the turn-off to the farm. Hamlyn eased the car
over the sodden gravel and pulled up in front of the unit. “I have a Christmas dinner
planned at my house, a business thing. It’s one of those necessary evils, but it has to be done.
I know it’s a busy time of year for you but if you could fit me in, I’d appreciate it.”
“I’ll check the diary while you’re here.” Alice, my secretary, was shamelessly peering
through the misted window.
We climbed out of the car. Hamlyn followed me through the door. The warmth was a
relief after the piercing, damp cold outside.
“Do you a fancy a coffee while you’re here? I’ve been testing out some new biscuit
recipes. You could be a guinea pig.” I asked, more in hope than anything else.
“Sounds good to me. I’m not in a hurry to be anywhere.”
I didn’t want to consider the reasons why this was good news to me. I took my diary
from Alice’s desk and asked her to fetch coffee and a selection of biscuits before taking
Hamlyn to my office.
“Sorry about the mess.” I cleared some space on the desk to try and make it look tidier
and sat down.
Hamlyn took a seat and slipped out of his coat. The spice of his cologne drifted across
the morass of papers and invoices. I slid my chair under my desk because my dick was
having thoughts of its own about Hamlyn’s presence.
Not good.
“What date did you have in mind?” I opened my diary and pretended to be
professional, in an attempt to snap myself out of it.
“I know it’s short notice, but is there any chance you can do the last Friday in
November? I wanted to get the business over and done with before anyone gets too jaded
from a surfeit of celebratory dinners.”
I shuffled through the pages. “That should be fine. I have a lunch but nothing in the
evening. Have you any thoughts about what you want to serve?” I picked up a pen.
“It’ll be a sit-down dinner and there’ll be half a dozen guests. Three couples and me.”
How pathetic was it that I perked up at that intelligence? “Any idea what you’d like?
French? Hungarian? Italian? British? A Christmas themed meal?”
“Italian would make a change.”
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I rummaged through the pile of menus. “Here are the Italian choices. Have a look and
give me a call when you’ve decided what you’d like. I can get it all ready and then just drop
it by the house. All you’ll have to do is heat it up and serve.”
Hamlyn set the menu down. “I was wondering…if…” He glanced at the menu again.
“I’d prefer it if someone could be there to serve it. I don’t want to be in and out of the kitchen
all night when I’m entertaining.”
“Fair point.” I considered my list of part-time servers. “I can get one of the girls to
serve.”
“I don’t suppose I could persuade you, could I? I’d rather you were there.”
“I don’t usually do that.”
“If you don’t want to, I’d understand.”
I can’t resist pleading blue eyes. I just bloody can’t. This had nothing to do with
business and everything to do with wanting him.
Alice clattered in with two mugs of coffee and a plate of fresh biscuits. The Christmas
line was a cut above the normal, plenty of chocolate, nuts and fruit. Hamlyn helped himself
to a biscuit and smiled at Alice. She dimpled, blushed and scuttled away.
“If you’re the type that goes out on Friday nights, that’s all right. It’s okay to have a
social life.”
“What is this ‘social life’ you speak of?” I waved the biscuits away. I’d spent most of the
morning baking the bloody things.
“Ah, it’s like that, is it?” His eyes had a glint in them. “Just like me. No life.”
“I’ll do it. I haven’t anything else to do.”
Hamlyn’s smile was worth sacrificing an empty Friday night for. “Excellent. Thank
you.”
“Just don’t expect me to dress in a maid’s outfit and hand the canapés around.” I
scribbled the details into the diary. “What time will you want dinner for?”
“Eight?”
“That’s fine. I’ll get there early to get things prepped.”
He picked up the menu again. “I think I’ve already made up my mind.”
“Good. I like a decisive client.” I picked up the pen again.
“How about a selection of canapés, mushroom risotto for the starter, chicken marsala
for the main and the coffee panna cotta for pudding?”
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“That was easy.”
“You’re all right with those choices?” He stole another biscuit.
“They’re fine.” I would’ve made anything he wanted.
* * * *
I hadn’t seen Hamlyn. Mrs Stein, his housekeeper, let me in and informed me that he
was in his office. I was left to my own devices.
Once the guests arrived I could start the risotto. I’d already softened the shallots and the
stock was simmering quietly on a back burner.
The chicken was flattened and dredged in flour and the potatoes were already in the
oven. The panna cottas were made and were resting in the fridge, awaiting a final flourish of
amaretto sauce before serving.
I stepped back and surveyed the canapé platter. I love canapés because they’re all about
the artistry. Plus, it’s a lot easier to assemble and arrange quality ingredients, rather than
stand over a stove.
“Very nice.” Hamlyn strolled into the kitchen, his hair in damp spikes. He plucked a
cornichon from the bowl at the centre of the platter. “Are you all right working here? Is there
anything I can do to help?”
“Everything’s fine. All the prepping is done. Everything is under control so there’s
nothing you need to do.”
He leaned on the island and stole another. “I can’t wait.”
I slid the jar of cornichon across the granite surface. “I hope you won’t be
disappointed.”
“I’m sure I won’t be.” Hamlyn smiled and fished in the jar for another. “Bloody hell,
these are moreish.”
“Yes, they are.” I watched him move the pickle around his mouth slowly. He let it rest
before biting into it and swallowed, then he ran his tongue slowly over his lips.
I was grateful the island was between us, because I was certain my chef’s apron
wouldn’t have hidden my dick’s reaction to the simple act of Neil Hamlyn devouring a
cornichon.
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Hamlyn glanced at the clock. “I suppose they’ll start turning up soon. Let’s hope it’s not
a long evening. I hate this kind of thing, but it has to be done.” He picked up the canapé
platter. “Good luck, Chef. I’ll see you later.”
He disappeared through the door. I turned on the cold water tap, ran it until the water
was so cold I couldn’t feel my fingertips and splashed my face until my erection faded. As
soon as the doorbell rang, heralding the first arrivals, I made a start on the risotto.
* * * *
I put the last of the plates in the dishwasher and started packing my bits and pieces
away. It had only just gone ten, but it felt later. I wanted to crawl into bed and sleep away the
weekend.
“Good, you’re still here.” Hamlyn strolled into the kitchen. “Thanks for tonight. The
food was brilliant, everyone enjoyed it.”
“I’m glad.”
He rested his elbows on the island. “I don’t know about you but I’m fucking knackered.
I hate being polite to people all bloody night.”
I set my box on the counter. “Well, at least it’s over and done with, right?”
“Yeah.” Hamlyn rubbed his eyes and offered me a slow smile. “I’d ask if you wanted to
stick around for a drink or two, but I’d only fall asleep on you.”
Feel free.
“I’m happy to take a rain check on those drinks.”
Fuck. Did I really just say that?
“I think we can do better than a drink or two, don’t you?” That slow smile again. “I
suppose you have a busy month ahead.” A sigh coloured that supposition.
“Only during the days. I don’t usually work nights. Tonight was an exception.”
“How often do you go out?” He edged around the island.
“Once in a blue moon. Well…never, actually. As I said before, I have no life.”
Hamlyn stood before me. He raised his hand a fraction then lowered it. He thoughtfully
trailed a finger over the cool granite. “So you don’t have a girlfriend? Boyfriend?”
“Nope. You?” I watched the finger, mesmerised.
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“Which would you prefer?” He was close enough that I could feel the heat of him and
smell his aftershave.
“I’m probably a smidge too old to have a boyfriend. I prefer men.” There, it was out.
He exhaled slowly, his breath warm on my skin. “Thank Christ for that.”
“I wonder why.” I inched towards him and placed my hand on his chest.
“Because I’d like to think I might be your type.”
“You might be.” My heart raced as fast as his pulse, which was hurtling beneath my
fingers.
When he curled his hand around the back of my neck I couldn’t move, didn’t want to
move. “I’m glad to hear that.” He brushed his lips lightly over mine.
“I’m glad you’re glad.”
“So let me take you out.” His voice promised so much more.
“Yes.”
“Good.” He kissed me again. He slid the tip of his tongue over my lips. He tasted of
amaretto—sweet and bitter almonds. “How about tomorrow? I’ve been invited to a Very
Belated Bonfire Night Party and I’d like you to come with me.”
“I can just about wait that long.”
Neil stepped back and smiled. “Tomorrow it is, then. Tell me where you live so I can
pick you up. You might want to wear something warm.”
“Number three, The Green. It’s the two-up, two-down with the blue door.”
“I’ll pick you up at seven tomorrow. If the party’s a bust, we can always go somewhere
else.”
I would’ve settled for fish and chips in a car park. “I should go.”
“Yes, you’d better.” He leant forward and caught my bottom lip between his teeth. “I
have no willpower when I’m knackered.”
“Luckily, I have.” I stepped away, reluctantly, and picked up my crate.
“I’ll see you tomorrow evening, then.”
“You will.”
He put his arm around my waist and walked me to the front door. “Thanks again, and
thanks for letting me kiss you.”
“My pleasure.” I carried the crate to the van and drove away.
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Chapter Three
I stepped out on to the path and walked to the gate. Neil’s car idled on the kerb,
sending exhaust fumes into the cold night air. I’d spent the best part of an hour digging
through the piles of clothes at the bottom of my wardrobe, searching for a jumper warm
enough to withstand the arctic chill. A thick turtleneck was hardly going to inflame anyone’s
passion but I reckoned, perhaps, Neil would warm me up later.
“Hullo.” He leaned over and kissed my cheek, his lips cool and soft. “Bloody cold, isn’t
it?”
“Not in here it isn’t.” The heating was roaring full blast.
I unfastened my coat as he put the car in gear. One or two net curtains twitched on
either side of my house. No doubt the village bush telegraph would have kicked into action
before I even got home. “So where’s this party, then?”
“Not far—just outside of Lambourn, up on the Downs.”
“Very nice.”
“It might be. They’re friends of mine who bought an old cottage and did it all up with a
view to selling it—they decided to stay instead. Their dos are usually pretty good.” He
touched my cheek. “If it’s not we’ll quietly slip away.”
The car hugged the road, zooming up the hill. The headlights caught on the brown and
black lace of the hedgerows. Beyond the glow of the lights, the November sky was
illuminated by a waning moon.
“You know, it occurs to me, I don’t know what you do.”
“Me? Not much. I buy properties, I fix them up and I either rent them out or sell them
on.” His smile was brilliant in the darkness. “Well, I pay other people to fix them up.”
“Is that what you intend to do with the Hall?” I imagined the village’s Burning Torch
Brigade cluttering up the Parish Council meetings with their objections.
“No. I intend to stay there. It’s not too big of a place and it doesn’t need any work. I’m
winding things down a bit. I intend to be less ‘hands-on’. I want to rest for a while, and that
place seemed ideal.”
“It’s a lot of house for one person.”
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“Yeah, but it’s peaceful.”
“Until Diamond Jubilee Day—then you’ll have the local peasantry running riot in your
grounds.”
Neil laughed. “I’ll have to hire security.”
“Given that most of the people attending will be on the wrong side of sixty, a couple of
bad-tempered school kids should do the trick. It will all be very sedate.”
He slowed as we drove through Lambourn. A clump of stable lads piled into the Indian
restaurant while a few others reeled into The George. We headed back out again on the
Wantage Road. The last of the village houses trailed away, leaving us in dark and open
countryside once more. Neil took a turn to the right, into a narrow lane. The car picked its
way up a steep hill, past a sleeping farm, to the crest.
“Here we are.” He turned into a drive marked by two crumbling brick pillars. The
gravelled space in front of the long, low brick cottage already held half a dozen cars.
The cold air was a shock after the warm cocoon of the car. Neil slipped his hand in mine
while we walked towards the house. The party was clearly in full swing. Sparks rose into the
night sky from the bonfire. I followed Neil through the gate into the garden where a few
hardy souls were gathered around the fire. Someone spotted us and peeled away from the
group.
“Hello! You made it.” The small, plump, bearded man swept Neil into a hug. “It’s good
to see you again, mate.” He looked at me. “And you’ve brought someone. Do we get to know
who?”
“This is Kieran. He very kindly agreed to come and stand in the freezing cold with me.
So be nice to him, he deserves it.”
The host smiled at me. “Oh, dear. You definitely deserve some mulled wine, Kieran.”
“I wouldn’t say no.” Anything to warm up. My veins already seemed to be clogged
with ice.
We took our place beside the fire. The mulled wine was beautifully spiced and warm.
But even warmer was Neil’s arm around my waist, keeping me close, making it clear that I
was there with him.
“You don’t mind, do you?” His lips were soft on my ear.
“Not at all.” Neil’s closeness made the bitter night air endurable.
“I can’t wait until…later.”
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I swallowed when he slid his fingers beneath my jumper, admitting the chill of evening
but also a teasing heat. “Neither can I.”
I was almost sorry when we retired to the house for dinner, crowded around the table
in the cluttered kitchen.
“This had better be good,” Neil announced as Graham, the host, handed round bowls of
chilli. “Kieran is a brilliant cook. He’ll be giving you marks out of ten.”
“Don’t worry. I’m not at work. I will not be marking the food. I’m too hungry.” I stuck
my spoon into the chilli while Neil edged closer, his shoulder brushing mine.
The chilli was just fine—a perfect antidote to the biting cold outside. Conversation was
desultory while we all ate and slowly defrosted. It was a comfortable silence, everyone easy
with each other’s company.
“So, how did you two meet?” Graham took the empty bowls away.
Everyone at the table looked at us.
“Kieran brought me a welcome basket when I moved into the Hall. It was full of
goodies that he’d made. One bite of a blue cheese straw and I was completely and utterly
his.” Neil rested his hand on my thigh.
After dinner, we all returned to the bonfire. Neil leaned close as we walked across the
frosted grass. “I think I’ve done my socialising bit for the evening, what about you?”
“I’m all right with that.”
“Let’s make our excuses and go. I have this desperate need to be alone with you,
somewhere warm and peaceful.”
The heat in his voice made me wish we were already there.
* * * *
Neil pulled the car up in front of my house. “This is the part where you ask me in for a
cup of coffee, I accept, but…somehow…we never get round to having the coffee.” He put the
car in park and turned off the ignition.
I did a quick mental inventory. The bed sheets were clean. I’d just changed them that
day. There was coffee, nothing lying around that shouldn’t be there, a bottle of lube and
condoms in the bedroom cabinet. “Would you like to come in for a coffee?”
He grinned. “I wouldn’t say no.”
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We climbed out of the car. Mrs Bramley’s net curtains twitched. I didn’t care—I was too
busy fumbling for the keys.
We tumbled into the house. Like a good host, I took Neil’s coat, hung it up and backed
him to the wall.
He plunged his hands into my hair and kissed me greedily. The silence was occupied
by sighs, gasps and soft moans. Denim scraped on denim. Neil smelt of wood smoke and
tasted of wine. He pushed back until we reeled across the hall towards the stairs.
“Where’s your bedroom?”
“Usual place, top of the stairs…you know.” I took his hand and led him up the narrow
staircase.
In the bedroom we tore at each other’s clothes, leaving them in a tangled heap on the
floor as we fell onto the bed. Neil unclothed was every bit as appealing as Neil clothed. He
pressed me down with his weight, growling softly between kisses. I growled back, focused
on the heat and hardness of his cock rubbing against mine. My balls throbbed. Flesh fused
together.
Neil curled his fingers through mine and pressed my hands into the pillow. “Where’s
the lube? Please tell me you have lube.”
“Bedside cabinet, next to the condoms.”
He rolled away and reached into the cabinet. He tore at the condom wrapper and rolled
the condom onto his cock with trembling fingers. I reached out and covered his hand with
mine.
“Thanks.” Neil leaned low and kissed me. He poured lube into his cupped palm and
applied it with some enthusiasm. “I should’ve asked first. Can I fuck you?”
“Since you’ve just slathered lube all over your cock, it would be mean of me to say no.”
He laughed. “You are a considerate host.”
“I aim to please.”
Neil slid his finger into me. “And I aim to please you.”
I took a deep breath. “You’re off to a good start.”
“Good.” He smiled and moved that one finger with maddening slowness while he
nuzzled my throat.
I watched him, bathed in light from the hall. His hair teased into careless spikes by my
restless, clutching fingers as he trailed his tongue down my torso.
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“You taste good,” he whispered.
When he swirled his tongue around the tip of my cock I lost the will to speak. Instead, I
wound my fingers through his hair, not sure whether his finger up my arse or his mouth on
my dick would send me over the edge first.
Neil lifted his head and smiled. “Can I…?”
I nodded. He prised my legs apart and lifted them before nudging at me. When he
edged into me everything fell into place, everything made sense. Neil groaned and shivered.
I reached for him, pulling his mouth down to mine. His kisses were measured, broken
by sighs and moans. He moved slowly, at odds with our frantic foreplay. I wrapped my
fingers around my dick, not far from coming.
“Oh, yes.” Neil dropped his head. “You’re perfect.”
I was too far gone to thank him for the compliment, or to return one. He filled me,
hitting every desperate nerve. He moved deeper and picked up the pace, each thrust marked
by a hoarse gasp. I held on to him, not needing my own touch any more. Every subtle twist
of his hips brought me closer. I shifted, driving him deeper.
Neil paused, supporting himself on trembling arms. He ducked his head and kissed me.
“Are you all right?”
“Yes.” That was about all I could manage. I became even less coherent when he
plunged into me again. My balls tightened and I came with a wordless cry, spilling on to
myself.
He grinned, screwed his eyes shut, and kept moving. His pace became ragged. He
stopped once more, then glided in one last time. He grimaced, shuddered and came in a
series of frantic thrusts that shook the bed.
“Oh, Christ.” Neil withdrew and dropped onto me. “Oh, sweet Christ.”
I held him while we both caught our breath, limbs entwined. After a while, Neil sat up,
removed the condom, knotted it and tossed it into the bin beside the bed.
“Thank you.” He returned to me, burrowing beneath the tousled covers.
“My pleasure.”
He laughed softly. “And mine.”
We curled up together, seeking warmth. Neil’s head rested heavily on my shoulder. He
was asleep in no time. I was all right with that. I was all right with just about everything.
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* * * *
I hate that little black twist of disappointment when you wake up to an empty bed. I
opened my eyes, blinking in the lamplight. The crumpled linen was still warm, so Neil
hadn’t long gone. Fuck and run. I hate that.
I rolled on to my back and stared at the ceiling.
Sod. Sod. Sod.
My body ached from his onslaught. It was one I wasn’t going to forget in a hurry.
The creak of a step, the soft clink of glass. I sat up, hope revived.
“You’re awake. Good.” Neil set the bottle of wine on the cabinet alongside two glasses.
“I lied. I wouldn’t have had coffee anyway. I raided your cupboard and found this. I hope
you don’t mind.”
“Not at all.” He could’ve suggested eating crackers and pickled cabbage in bed and I
wouldn’t have minded.
Neil handed me a glass and slid back beneath the covers. “Cheers.” He touched his
glass to mine. “Would you mind if I stayed the night?”
“Please do.” The village gossips would be in overdrive. My next visit to the post office
shop would be interesting.
He plumped up his pillow and rested against it. “Thanks. I had a nose around in your
fridge. I thought I might make you breakfast in the morning.”
“I’d like that.”
“It’s been a long time since I’ve spent the night with someone and even longer since I’ve
cooked breakfast. I promise I won’t burn anything.”
I leant back into the bank of pillows. “I hope not. I like this house and I’d like to keep
it.”
“I like this house too.” Neil sipped his wine. “I feel comfortable here.”
I felt comfortable with his warm shoulder pressed to mine. “You’d be welcome any
time.”
“I’ll take you up on that.” He kissed my cheek. “Have I said how much I love dimples?
You have great dimples.”
“And you have all the lines, don’t you?”
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Neil put his arm around my shoulder. “Not usually. I think it’s just you.” He set his
wine glass down and took mine. “I think you just do…something.” He covered my mouth
with his and the wine was forgotten for a while.
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Chapter Four
“Kieran? Are you with us?” Cornelia’s voice cut across my reverie.
I tore myself away from the memories—of waking up to Neil’s touch, of the way he
moved when he was inside me, and of just being with him. I hated that real life, in the form
of the Committee, kept intruding.
“I’m here.”
“What do you think of the idea of making some special biscuits we can sell in the post
office to help raise funds for the Jubilee? Would you be willing to do that?”
“Special biscuits? Do you want me to come up with some ideas?”
“Well, you are a chef.” The vicar gurned in my direction.
“I’m a caterer, not a pastry chef. When I bake for clients, I’m following someone else’s
recipe.”
Brenda offered me a hopeful smile. “I’m sure you could come up with something.
Those biscuits you did for the WI meeting the other week were gorgeous.”
“They were from a Mary Berry recipe. I’m no Mary Berry.”
The vicar raised an eyebrow and simpered. “You’re definitely no Mary.”
Oh bloody hell, you’re not making a pass at me, are you?
“Last time I checked, I certainly was not. Nor, as I said, am I a pastry chef.” I wondered
if I could get away with thumping him. That would give the regulars in the pub something to
talk about.
Cornelia smiled and patted my hand. “You’re a very clever young man.”
“Think of what it could do for your business.” Brenda reached for a bottle of water.
“I suppose it needs a boost. I’ll think about it. I don’t know how much money we’d
raise, but it might help.”
“Why don’t you have a think about what you could do for the lowest possible cost? If
you could come up with an original recipe that would be even better, you know? Something
to commemorate the occasion.”
“I’ll see what I can come up with.”
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“Could we sell them through the village website too?” Cornelia picked at the crumbs of
her Rich Tea biscuit. “We could sell them on there, and provide a link to Kieran’s website.
That would drum up some more business for him.”
“You could post the recipe on your website.” Brenda had the bit between her teeth.
“Cornelia, you are a genius.”
Cornelia actually fluttered her eyelashes. I shuddered and glanced at my watch. This
meeting had gone on way too long.
“I’ll go away and see what I can come up with.” I scooped all my Committee things
together in the hopes that the action would be enough of a hint for Brenda to adjourn.
“I’ll minute it.” Brenda looked up at the clock on the wall. “Goodness! Is that the time?
I’ve missed Coronation Street. I hope Barry remembered to record it for me.”
The others shuffled their papers. The silence was filled with the snap of handbags and
briefcases.
“Meeting adjourned, then.” Brenda rose and headed for the door.
Hallebloodylujah.
I beat a swift retreat before anyone could nab me to give me their recipe ideas. It was a
relief to escape the stifling heat of the Village Hall and step out into the cold, rainy January
evening. It was a surprise to find Neil leaning against his car in the car park.
“Hullo. I thought you were still away.”
He leant forward and kissed me, his lips cool. Somewhere behind me, Cornelia dropped
her handbag.
“I wound things up early. I wanted to come home. I wanted to see you.”
“You did?”
Neil held the car door open for me. “I did.”
The car smelt of curry.
“I stopped at the Indian in Lambourn and picked up some dinner. Is that all right?”
A plastic bag nestled alongside Neil’s overnight bag on the back seat. “It certainly is. I
never feel much like cooking after a Committee meeting.”
“I guessed as much.” He backed out of the parking space and waved at a still-gawping
Cornelia. “I’ve had a shitty day and I just liked the idea of a takeaway and spending time
with you.”
“A shitty work day, huh.”
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“Not so much work issues.” He pressed his lips together and turned on to the road. “I’ll
tell you when we’ve got home.”
Something inside glowed because he referred to my place as ‘home’. Since he seemed to
spend half the week at my house, I suppose it was. Not that I minded. Not in the slightest.
The neighbours’ curtains had finally stopped twitching at the sight of Neil’s black Mercedes
parked in front of my house.
“I’m sorry.” I touched his knee.
He turned on to The Green and pulled up in front of the house. “Thanks. I know you’ll
make it all better.”
“I’ll do my best.” I carried the takeaway into the house and sorted out plates and
silverware while Neil ran upstairs and changed.
I set everything out on the coffee table in the living room. Neil returned in jeans and a
jumper, and sank onto the settee. “What a fucking day.”
I sat beside him. “What happened?”
“Simon.”
“Who?”
Neil spooned madras over his rice. “My ex. We split up nearly a year ago. It was a
mutual thing, but now he’s decided he’d like to give us another go. He’s been calling me off
and on for the last few months. I just can’t do it. I don’t want to. I’ve moved on.”
I stared at my jalfrezi. I shouldn’t have been surprised that he had an ex. “Why do you
think he’s changed his mind?”
“I think his rebound let him down. He realised that things were better when we were
together. Too bloody bad.” Neil stabbed a piece of chicken. “He’s missed the boat.”
“He’s still not getting the message?”
“It wouldn’t appear so. He’s deluded. Either that or he’s broke. I’m thinking he’s broke.
Anyway, it doesn’t matter. I’m not taking him back. I have you now.”
My appetite returned. “You do?”
“I bloody hope so.” He set his fork down and put his hands on my face. “I do, don’t I?”
“I never could resist a man with blue eyes.”
He kissed me, tasting of curry. “See, you’re all I need. I feel better now for having told
you.”
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I wanted to abandon dinner and haul Neil upstairs. I attacked my curry with
enthusiasm instead.
“How was your Committee meeting? Did you kill anyone?”
“Not this time. They think it would be a good idea if I could concoct a special biscuit
that they could sell at the post office and online to raise some money towards the
celebrations.”
“That actually sounds like a good idea.”
“In theory, yes. Of course, now I have to pull some special biscuit out of thin air.”
“I’m sure you can do it.”
“I’m not a pastry chef.”
“You can cook.” Neil scooped rice and sauce up with a bit of naan bread. “Your
Christmas biscuits were great.”
“I know—you must’ve eaten two dozen of them.”
“What can I say? I love your cooking.” He pushed his empty plate away and slumped
back against the cushions, smothering a yawn. “And I’m bloody knackered. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” I gathered all the empty plates and containers and carried them into the
kitchen. When I returned with the wine, Neil was stretched out on the settee.
“I take it you don’t want wine?”
“No. Just you.” He held his arm out and shifted over, leaving me just enough space to
lie down beside him.
I did.
“That’s better. That’s a whole world of better.” His sigh ruffled my hair.
I rested against him. “Yes, it is.” I inhaled the scent of his aftershave and slid my hand
beneath his jumper.
“You’re not trying to seduce me, are you?”
“I might be.”
His nipple hardened when I brushed my thumb across it. I did want to seduce him.
Neil groaned and rolled onto me. “You’re doing a fine job, Lawson.”
I pulled his head down to mine. “I know.”
We moved our hips together, bound by need. Neil covered my mouth with his. The
room remained silent apart from an occasional pop from the gas fire and the soft rustle of
clothes and whispering sighs.
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“Help me to forget.” His lips were warm on my skin. “Heal me.”
“Was it that bad?”
“Bad enough.”
My dick was hard against his. Neil kept moving, a steady horizontal waltz. He coiled
his tongue around mine. He stole my breath and gave lie to his protestations of sleepiness.
I inched out from beneath him and led him up the stairs. We hurried beneath the
covers, seeking refuge from the cold. Neil enveloped me, pinning me to the bed with his
weight. He resumed the dance he’d started downstairs, punctuating each emphatic push
with a kiss.
The heat and press of skin on skin was enough. Neil moved lower, sliding slowly over
my chest, marking me with light nips and kisses. He paused to trail his tongue over my
nipples before moving on.
“I love the way you taste,” he murmured against my stomach. “The way you feel
underneath me.”
I seized handfuls of his hair when he flicked his tongue over the tip of my dick. His lips
were soft, in contrast to the firmness of his grip when he began to work his hand up and
down. There wasn’t much I could do but lose myself in the rhythm he created. I rose and fell
to his touch, spellbound. When he lifted his head and returned to my lips, I welcomed him.
We thrust against each other in a mounting fever. Neil held my face between his hands and
moaned against my lips.
I moaned back and clasped his hips to mine. Fire pooled in my groin. I came first,
clutching at anything while he moved relentlessly.
“Oh…oh…Christ.” Neil pushed one last time and lay still. We remained where we
were, skin sticky with semen.
I caressed his shoulders. “Do you feel better now?”
“Yes.” His lips moved against my skin. “So much better. You’re good for me.”
“I’m glad to hear that.” I kissed his tousled hair. I wanted to be good for him. I closed
my eyes, cocooned in his warmth. I took that one final, foolish step and fell in love.
* * * *
I set the plate of biscuits in the middle of the table and waited.
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The Committee members were silent. Cornelia was the first to take one. She held it
between her thumb and forefinger, her fingertips clear of the red icing. “Oh, I say. How very
pretty.”
The vicar held one in the palm of his hand and poked at the single piece of rock sugar at
the centre of the diamond. “How very clever—simple but elegant.”
Jesus, it’s only a biscuit.
Brenda was the first to taste one. “Oh…”
“Apple and walnut…how exquisite.” The vicar reached for another biscuit.
Cornelia dabbed crumbs from her lips. “These are wonderful, Kieran.”
“Thank you.” I took one for myself. “I thought, since the Queen apparently likes simple
food, that I’d keep the biscuits simple and British.”
“And what’s more British than shortbread.” Cornelia favoured me with a pleat-free
smile. “I love the colours of the icing.”
I’d gone for royal colours, a deep, rich red bordered by a thin ribbon of gold. Royal
icing, of course. “I’m glad you all approve.”
“How soon can we start selling them?”
“They don’t take much to make. I can make big batches and freeze them. They’ll only
need icing when they’re defrosted and, after that, they’ll keep for about ten days unfrozen. I
have cellophane bags for them.
“Could we tie the bags up with red and gold ribbon?” This was Brenda, tucking into
her second biscuit.
“If someone wants to do that, that would be fine.”
“I’ll get the girls to do it. I may even have some ribbon somewhere. I have a lovely
basket tray we can set on the counter. I have a feeling these will sell well.” Brenda patted my
hand. “Well done, Kieran. They really are perfect.”
I retrieved my empty plate and glanced at my watch. “I’ll make a start tomorrow then.
Right now, I’ll have to make my apologies and be somewhere else.” My biscuits had
definitely earned me a golden ticket to leave early.
“Going anywhere nice?” Cornelia wiped the crumbs from her lips. “With Mr Hamlyn?”
“I have to be somewhere else. That’s all you need to know.” I offered her my best smile.
“I’ll see you all later.” I hurried out of the room before anyone could stop me. I wasn’t about
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to tell them that Neil was due home after a week away and I had every intention of enjoying
every minute of our reunion.
Back at the house, I checked the stew I’d left on the back burner and turned the lights
on. Rain hammered against the windows and I cranked the heating up a notch to ward off
the chill.
When my phone rang, Neil’s name flashed across the screen.
“Hi, Kieran?”
“It’s me.”
“I’m sorry. I won’t be able to come and see you tonight. There’s been a…development.”
The words were delivered with a heavy sigh.
“A development?”
“Not a work thing.”
“Simon.” My guts rolled.
“Yeah. Look, I really can’t talk now. I’m at the house. I’ll try and phone you later. I’m
sorry.”
“So, I’m guessing Simon’s there. He’s turned up out of the blue and you’re dropping
everything.” So much for the ex being an ‘ex’. I wished I’d stayed for the remainder of the
Committee meeting.
“I know how it sounds.”
“Not good, from where I’m sitting.”
“I’m sorry. I’ve got to go.” The line went dead.
I tossed the phone onto the settee. “Yeah, well, fuck you mate.”
So much for making him better. All I’d managed to do was make myself feel worse.
* * * *
There’s nothing more therapeutic than flattening something to within an inch of its
existence with a rolling pin. I beat the crap out of the stale bread. Utensils and bowls rattled
on the countertop. Stefan, one of my helpers, glanced up from his chopping and gawped.
“Everything all right?”
“Just tickety-boo.” I gave the bag of crumbs one last hammering. “Just peachy.” I tossed
the rolling pin aside and emptied the crumbs into a container.
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“Nonsense.” Alice swept into the kitchen. “You’ve had a face like a slapped arse all
week.”
“Really, I’m fine.”
She raised an eyebrow and stood beside the refrigerator, one hand on her hip. “I’ve
worked for you for two years and I know when you’re upset.”
“No, you don’t.”
“No, well, you’ve beaten the hell out of breadcrumbs, the chicken breasts have never
been flatter and there’s been more slamming and banging in this kitchen these past few days
than a Stomp DVD, only without the rhythm. It’s Mr Hamlyn, isn’t it?”
“It might be.”
“Only, someone’s here to pick up his weekly order, and it’s not him.”
“Fine then, give it to him. I hope they fucking choke on it.”
Alice took the cartons from the fridge. “Oh dear.” She bagged the food. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right. I’ll live. Just make sure he pays you before he leaves.”
“But…”
“Yeah, I know he usually pays at the end of the month. I’ve decided he has to pay
now.”
She shrugged and carried the bag towards the kitchen door. “All right. I suppose I’m
the one that’ll have to deal with the angry phone call.”
“Sorry. But we make almost everyone else pay when they collect, so Mr Hamlyn and
his friend can do the same. I have a business to run.” I pulled a bowl from a cabinet and
reached for the icing sugar.
Alice shook her head and left the room while I set about beating some royal icing into
shape.
She reappeared a few moments later. “The gentleman says he doesn’t have any money
on him and that Mr Hamlyn will send you a cheque.” She leaned against the door. “Don’t
you think I’m going to go back out there and argue with him—you can sort it out.”
“Fine. I will.” I wiped my hands and followed Alice into the reception area, relishing
the prospect of a set-to.
The one-who-must-be-Simon stood beside the desk, arms folded over his chest. His
right foot beat a restless tattoo on the tiles.
I shoved my hands into my pockets. “Is there a problem, sir?”
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He wheeled around, dark hair flying. “I’ll say there is. I’m told I have to pay for
everything now.”
“That’s right. If you don’t have the cash or a card, I can put everything back in the
fridge until you come back. That’s not a problem.” As much as I wanted to hit him, I thought
a cool, disinterested approach would annoy him more.
“It was my understanding that Mr Hamlyn would be invoiced, as normal, at the end of
the month.” The one-who-must-be-Simon spoke with a clipped, public-school accent. He was
dressed in a City banker’s casual gear—designer jeans and a pastel V-neck jumper.
I hated him.
“Change of policy. I’m sure if you explain to Mr Hamlyn he’ll get the message.”
His cheeks were flagged with red. “Oh, he will all right. I think you can expect a phone
call at the very least.”
“I shall look forward to it.”
“And don’t think you’ll talk him round to coming back to you when he does phone.
You’d be well advised to stay the fuck away from him.”
“This is hardly the place to be discussing anything other than Mr Hamlyn’s order.”
Simon’s voice rose. “You don’t get to tell me what I can and can’t talk about.” He
lunged across the office and shoved me against the wall, spittle foaming at the corners of his
mouth.
Alice gasped.
I grabbed him by both wrists and swiftly kneed him in the balls. “Big mistake, mate.”
He dropped to the floor and whimpered.
It took all I had not to kick him while he was down. I was too busy trying not to let him
or Alice see that I was fucking petrified. This was a whole new level of crazy.
“You might want to get out of here before I phone the police.”
Simon scrambled to his feet, his face purple. “You’ll fucking pay for that.”
I took a deep breath. “I’m not the one who’s going to have sore bollocks for a while.
Now get out.” I shoved him towards the door. “And stay the fuck away.”
He reeled through the door and staggered out into the car park. When he was out of
sight I leaned against the desk and started to shake.
“Are you all right?” Alice put her hand on my shoulder.
“No. I think I need a drink.”
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“There’s some wine in the fridge.”
I retrieved the bag of food. “Sod the wine. Fetch me the whisky.” I returned to the
sanctuary of my kitchen.
“All right, Kieran?”
I tossed the bag into the fridge. “Never better.”
Stefan continued chopping vegetables.
“Here you go, Boss.” Alice returned with a double of Irish. We kept a bottle or two for
culinary purposes. “Get this down your neck.”
“Straight up. Just the way I like it.” I picked up the glass and downed it in one. It didn’t
matter that it burned like lava in the pit of my stomach—it was enough to stop the shaking.
Alice returned to the kitchen an hour later. “Here you are. Mrs Stein brought a cheque.”
She placed it on the counter and went to the fridge.
I picked up the cheque. It was just a cheque, with the correct amount and a scrawled
signature on the line above Neil’s printed name. I pushed it away and returned to work.
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Chapter Five
Neil had left a couple of pairs of jeans, a handful of jumpers and a toothbrush at the
house. I hated being reminded of our few weeks together. There was something cathartic
about shoving them into a bin bag and sending a terse text message.
‘Your things in bin bag on porch. Please collect ASAP’.
I dropped the bag onto the front porch, just out of reach of the cold winter drizzle. The
Green was shrouded by mist that muted the growl of cars as they passed through the village.
The lights of the pub gleamed through the gloom and I was almost tempted to wander across
the wet grass for a pint. Instead, I locked the door and retreated to the warmth of the living
room with a book and a bottle of lager.
I was well into the second chapter when someone pounded on the front door.
Neil’s car sat on the kerb, so it didn’t take a rocket scientist to work out who was intent
on knocking my door off its hinges. For a moment I considered ignoring it, but there was a
small, perverse part of me that wanted to see him, wanted to be hurt just that little bit more.
I unbolted the door and found Neil clutching the bin bag. “Why?”
“Because I don’t want your stuff cluttering up my house if you have no intention of
coming back.”
“Who says I don’t intend to come back?”
“I do. When you phone me, cancel your visit, tell me your ex is back, say you’ll phone
back and you don’t, I’d say it’s a fair bet we’re done.”
“Can I come in?” He shivered and his breath rose in clouds, caught in the porch light.
I stepped back.
Neil tossed the bag at the foot of the stairs. “I’m sorry. I should’ve phoned.”
“Yes, and you shouldn’t have sent your ex to my place so he could throw a tantrum.
Not exactly great for business.”
“That wasn’t my doing. He wanted to see you for himself. I didn’t know he’d gone until
he came back clutching his balls and bitching about how you wanted him to pay on the
spot.”
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“Well, he saw me and obviously wasn’t impressed. I hope I’ll be spared the pleasure of
his company in future.”
“I’m sorry. He has…problems.”
“You think? He’s a fucking maniac.”
“It’s complicated and it’s difficult.” Neil leaned against the wall, his hands behind his
back. “Simon’s a coke addict. When he’s cut off from his candy he’s a bit unstable. The less
attention I draw to you the better. I don’t trust him. I don’t trust his temper.”
“Are you saying he’d try to hurt me again?”
“Yes.” He pushed himself away from the wall and stood before me. “I’ve been there
myself. I used to be an addict. I know what it’s like when you can’t get the stuff.”
“You’re not still…?”
“No. I gave it up a long time ago. I have no interest in taking it up again.” Neil touched
my face, trailing his fingers over my cheek. “I just need to stay away. I need to protect you.”
“That seems a bit extreme. I’m perfectly capable of lamping him one again if he gives
me any more trouble.”
“I’d rather it didn’t come to that.”
I pushed his hand away. “Don’t wrap me in cotton wool. Don’t assume I can’t defend
myself. You’re letting him come between us. That’s exactly what he wants.”
“I don’t know how to make things better.”
“You’re not talking like a man who built up a successful business, who bought the
biggest house in the village on a whim. You’re not the Neil I thought I knew.”
“You don’t understand.”
“No, I don’t.” I handed him the bin bag. “I think you’d better go before Simon figures
out where you are.”
“No. Not yet.” Neil seized my chin and pressed his lips to mine.
I pushed at his chest. “Don’t. Just stop.” It hurt to do it especially when everything in
me wanted him.
He backed away as if I’d kicked him in the knackers. “Jesus, Kieran. Hear me out will
you? Don’t you think you’re being a bit selfish?”
I shoved the bag at him. “Selfish, how? Why should you have to put your life on hold
for that parasite? You got over your addiction, why can’t he?”
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“I can’t turn my back on someone I was with for five years. Could you?” Neil yanked
the door open. His cheeks were flushed and eyes were full of fire. “I’ll see you around.” The
door slammed shut, rattling the glass.
I sank onto the bottom step and sat there for a long time.
* * * *
“I suppose you’d better have a word with Mr Hamlyn about our plans for the party.”
The vicar sipped his tea.
I stared out of the window to where daffodils pushed their way through the rain-
soaked soil. “It’s only March.”
“Which means we have three months. It’ll go very quickly.”
“I haven’t seen Mr Hamlyn for a few weeks. I don’t even know if he’s home.”
Cornelia tutted. “You can phone him, can’t you? I thought you two were…”
“I’d rather not.” I scribbled Neil’s phone number on a piece of paper and slid it across
the table. “It might be better if you dealt with him from now on.”
She scooped up the piece of paper and dropped it into her handbag. The pleats had
returned to her upper lip. I suppose there was only so long I could cruise on the kudos of the
biscuits.
“I’ll phone him tomorrow and make sure everything is still all right as far as the party’s
concerned. In the meantime, have you given any thought to food? Thanks to the biscuit sales
and a few generous donations, we have a decent amount of money in the kitty.”
“I suppose I need an idea of how many people are likely to attend.”
“I’m going to put a sign-in book at the shop.” Brenda echoed Cornelia’s disapproval.
“Then anyone who wants to attend can put their name down there. Plus, the WI is going to
send a notice around to every house in the village. We should have a fairly good idea of
numbers by the end of April.”
“Do we want finger food, or a sit-down meal, or what?”
The vicar leant forward, his hands clasped on the table. “I think we should keep it
traditional street party fare. Sandwiches, sausage rolls, cakes, that kind of thing. Stuff that
you can prepare ahead of time.” His tone was almost kindly. I suppose having to deal with
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an unattached gay Committee member was easier than someone who was rogering the lord
of the manor. “You’ll have plenty of help, of course. The WI ladies are all ready to dig in.”
“I’ll jot down some ideas and costs before the next meeting. The traditional angle would
be perfect.” I was already thinking. There’d be plenty of opportunities to throw in an
inventive twist on the traditional. It would keep my mind off the guilt that nagged at me.
“That would be lovely.” Cornelia smiled. “Now, what’s next on the agenda…?”
Everyone turned to the window when a police car whizzed past, sirens wailing. The
vicar opened it and peered out.
“Oh, I say, it’s turned into the Hall.”
My guts dropped to my feet. “What?” I stood beside him, seeing nothing but the cool,
grey evening.
“Oh dear.” Cornelia edged between us. “I hope everything’s all right.”
All I could think of was fucking Simon going off the rails and hurting Neil. I gripped
the cold windowsill to stop my hand inching towards my phone.
“Shall we get on with the meeting?” Brenda had remained in her chair. “The sooner we
finish, the sooner someone can find out what’s happened.” She looked pointedly at me.
I spent the rest of the meeting alternating between staring at the clock and watching for
the police car to drive back past. It gave me time to wrestle with my pride and talk myself
out of phoning Neil.
“Right, that’s it.” Brenda gathered her papers together.
I’d already scooped my stuff into the file and was out of the door before the others left
their seats. I hurried down the path, swallowed my pride and scooped my phone out of my
pocket just as the police car passed.
“Kieran.” Neil’s voice was low and steady.
“I just saw the police car. Is everything all right?” I hoped I sounded calm.
The static broke up his long sigh. “I’m surprised you give a fuck.”
“Of course I do.”
“Don’t worry. Everything’s all right…for now. We had an argument. Mrs Stein heard
Simon breaking things and panicked. She phoned the police. They turned up and talked
Simon down. He’s taken a sleeping pill and gone to bed. Thank Christ.”
“Are you all right?” I stopped on the kerb.
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“I’m fine. I could’ve done without the police, but I can’t blame Mrs Stein.” The line
stuttered. “Thanks for phoning.”
“I had to. I was worried.”
“I miss you.” Weariness stretched every word.
I swallowed. “I miss you too.”
“I’m trying, Kieran, I really am.”
“Yeah.”
“I’d better go. I don’t want him waking up and…well…”
“All right.” I wanted to turn around and run to the Hall.
“I’ll talk to you sometime.” The line went dead.
I shoved my phone in my pocket and headed home.
* * * *
I stared at the special offers shelf in the village shop and wondered whether to splash
out on a jar of pickled artichoke hearts. The WI stalwarts were gathered around the
newspaper rack talking about someone’s daughter running off with the plumber’s son. There
was always something.
“Hello, Margaret. How are you today? What’s all this I hear about the police being
called to the Hall last night?”
My pulse took an almighty leap. I pretended to study a large jar of piccalilli.
“I shouldn’t really say anything.” Mrs Stein lowered her voice a notch. “But it was
horrible. Poor Mr Hamlyn. He and his ex-boyfriend had a terrible argument in the kitchen.
All I could hear was shouting, mainly from the boyfriend. Mr Hamlyn was doing everything
he could to stay calm. He’s good like that, bless ‘im.”
The furtive shuffling of feet told me someone else had arrived at the newspaper rack.
Mrs Stein continued. “Then the boyfriend started throwing things. I could hear
breaking crockery, pans hitting the walls, then Mr Hamlyn told him to put the knife down.
That’s when I panicked. I ran to the phone and called the police. Then I ran into the living
room and got the poker from the fireplace. By the time I reached the kitchen it was over. Mr
Hamlyn had that man pinned to the wall. The boyfriend kept ranting and raving until the
police turned up…”
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I put the piccalilli down and walked out of the shop, shaking and sick. I couldn’t see
anything but a bad end to the whole sorry business.
* * * *
The pub was packed. I shouldered my way to the bar and found Alice waiting. I’d
promised her a birthday drink and a meal as a thank you for keeping the business from
looking like it was run by a clueless idiot.
“Hiya, Boss.”
“Sorry I’m late.”
“It’s all right. I only just got here myself.” She settled onto her stool.
“What are you drinking?” I sat down beside her.
“Did you say you were paying?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll have a large glass of red wine then.” She grinned and rested her elbows on the bar.
“I reckon I’ve earned this.”
“You certainly have.” I ordered a bottle of red. She opened a menu and studied it. I
peered over her shoulder and decided on the soup and the steak and ale pie.
“So how are you? If you don’t mind my saying, you look bloody miserable.”
“Gee, thanks.” I took a mouthful of wine.
“How long has it been now?”
“I don’t know. A few weeks. It doesn’t matter. I’ll get over it.”
“The whole putting on a brave face doesn’t fool me. What are you going to do about
it?”
“Sod all. Neil told me his ex was back. There’s some complications.”
“I have to say, sending the ex to pick up his food was gutless.”
“He didn’t. The ex wanted to check me out and make sure I stayed away.”
“Charming.”
“Yeah.”
The waitress led us to our table. We gave her our orders.
“So what are you going to do?” Alice plucked a bread roll from the basket.
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“I don’t know. Part of me just wants to give up and walk away. It’s not a black and
white thing. It’s difficult to explain and there’s stuff that I can’t talk about. I suppose I need to
be patient and see how things turn out.” I took a long draw of wine. “I’d like to think that
Neil’s being honest with me, and I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt.”
The waitress arrived with our starters.
Alice spread pâté across a piece of Melba toast. “You’re not going to put up a fight?”
“I’m not in a position to. He knows what I think about the situation. It’s up to him to
work it all out.”
“Oh dear.”
“I’m still hurting. Perhaps I’ll wake up one morning and decide to let rip. Until then let
me wallow, eh?”
“All right. Let me know when you do decide to let rip. I’ll sell tickets.”
We were well into our main courses when Neil and Simon followed the waitress into
the room.
Alice looked at me, fork suspended over her pasta. I don’t know what she expected me
to do.
The pie sat like a breeze block in my stomach.
“Don’t you bloody dare,” she whispered.
“Don’t I bloody dare what?” I speared another piece of steak. “I’m not doing anything.
This is my local pub—I’ve been drinking here for three years. This is probably the first time
he’s set foot in the place. I’m not going anywhere.”
She smiled. “That’s my boy. Go on, eat up. Pretend he’s not here.”
I forced another mouthful of pie down. “That’s going to be hard because he’s sitting in
my line of sight.”
“If I catch you so much as blinking in his direction, I’ll stab you with my fork.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I managed a smile and returned to my dinner. With any luck, I was
carrying off the best acting of my non-acting life—‘jilted rebound lover eating dinner with
gusto’.
I cleared my plate and even ordered pudding, just because I could, not because I
wanted it.
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When the waitress delivered the puddings, I glanced up and found Neil watching me.
His eyes were impossible to read in the dimly lit dining room. I liked to think it was guilt and
longing. It made my cheesecake taste a lot better.
“That’s it. I’m stuffed.” I leant back in my chair. “If I’m sick tomorrow, I’m blaming
you.”
“Why me?”
“Because you wanted pudding and I felt obliged to keep you company.”
Alice laughed. I loved her for it.
After the meal, I walked Alice to the taxi. She kissed my cheek. “Thanks for the lovely
birthday dinner, Boss. I really enjoyed it.”
“So did I.”
She pinched my cheek. “I’m very proud of you. You dealt a blow on behalf of the Jilted
tonight.”
“Thanks. I hope so.”
“I sneaked a peek at him. He had a face like a wet weekend in Bognor.”
“Good.” I watched the taxi go and turned to walk home.
The soft drizzle was cool on my skin—it washed away the mellow wine buzz.
“Kieran.”
I turned around. Neil was illuminated by the brilliant glow of one of the security lights.
I wanted to keep walking. Instead, I stopped where I was. “Neil.”
He glanced over his shoulder. “How are you?”
“Fine.”
He nodded. “Good.”
I took a deep breath. “Can I go now? I don’t know if you’ve noticed but it’s raining and
I’d like to get home.”
“Yeah, sure.” He put his hands in his pockets. “I’m sorry.”
“So am I.” I turned and walked away.
“Kieran…wait.”
I paused again. “Don’t bother. Whatever you have to say won’t make things better, and
a pub car park is hardly the place for it. Not only that, but I don’t fancy renewing my
acquaintance with your jealous bitch of a boyfriend.”
Right on cue, Simon hurried into the car park.
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“I should’ve bloody known.” He glared at Neil and then at me. “What the fuck are you
doing here?”
“I was enjoying a nice meal with my secretary and trying to make my way home.”
“Don’t let me stop you.”
“Give it a rest, Simon.” Neil moved between us. “Kieran was just leaving. I wanted to
say hello to him, that’s all.”
Simon glared at me.
I glared back and shoved my clenched fists into my pockets. “If you’ll excuse me,
gentlemen, I’ll be off. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”
I walked away, anxious to be away from the toxic air around them both.
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Chapter Six
I consigned the last of the miniature pork pies to the freezer. There were enough there
to feed several villages, let alone one. All that remained to be done was to wipe the worktop,
turn off the lights and head home. Preparing food for the Jubilee seemed the best way to fill
my empty evenings. This night was no different. At least no one would be caught on the hop
come the Big Day.
The kitchen gleamed. There wasn’t a stray pot, pan or utensil out of place. I hung up
my tunic and turned off the kitchen lights. There was enough time for me to get home, stick
something in the microwave and watch an hour or two of television before crawling into my
empty bed. I retrieved my jacket and made sure everything was locked up for the night,
before venturing out into the spring rain.
Something was different. The small car park was usually empty by eight in the evening.
Tonight, a low-slung black Mercedes sat in the far space. Tonight, Neil stood out in the rain
beside it, hands in his pockets.
Leave me in peace, please.
I wondered whether I was churlish enough to just pretend he wasn’t there, just walk
past him.
I couldn’t.
“What do you want?” I stared at him and, in spite of everything, still wanted him.
“To explain.” He leaned against the car.
“You’ve already done that. But Simon’s still there. As sorry as I feel for the mess you’re
in, I can’t help thinking there’s more you can do to get out of it.” It was hard to keep the
bitterness from my voice.
“Please.” Neil caught my arm.
I wrenched it away. “What more is there to explain?”
He had the grace to look hurt. “I’m trying.”
“Is that what you came to tell me? That you’re trying? In case you haven’t noticed, it’s
pissing down. It’s been a long day and I have a bowl of stew with my name on it back
home.”
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“Get in the car. I’ll take you home.”
“I’d rather walk.” The car looked warm and dry. I’d get home quicker. But I knew if I
climbed in that car I’d give in.
“At least just sit in the car.”
The rain trickled beneath my collar. It may have been the middle of April but it was still
cold. “All right.”
Neil opened the door for me. I climbed in and stared at the foggy windscreen. The scent
of his aftershave stirred a whole host of memories.
“Thanks.” He settled into his seat.
“So?”
He wrapped his fingers around the steering wheel and sighed. “Let me start by saying
how sorry I am. I’ve treated you like shit and you deserve better.”
I refused to look at him. “You certainly did, and I definitely do.”
“I can’t seem to get rid of him.”
I folded my arms across my chest. “So it would seem.”
“Simon had a pretty rough deal after we split up. The guy he ended up with took him
for every penny he had, cleaned his bank account out, stole his credit cards and took off. To
top it all, he lost his job. He’d had a decent paying job—and then he was out on his arse. He
couldn’t pay the rent, so he was thrown out of his flat. He had nowhere to go. So he came to
me.” Neil rested his forehead on the steering wheel. “I just got sucked right in again. At least
he’s stayed off the coke, but it doesn’t make him any easier to deal with. He’s jealous…of
you.”
“I’d guessed as much. But he hasn’t really got anything to be jealous about at the
moment, has he? His little terror campaign seems to have succeeded in keeping us apart.”
“I don’t want him hurting you. I know I’ve said it before. I know what he’s capable of.
But, before you ask, we aren’t how we were before. It’s a big house. We sleep in separate
rooms. Simon didn’t want that, but I did and I do. As far as I’m concerned he’s only there
until he gets on his feet again. He wants more. He wants to be back in my bed. I can’t do that.
I don’t want that. I don’t feel anything other than pity for him.”
“We’re talking in circles.”
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“I know. I’ve got myself into a right mess. I can’t throw him out but I can’t live my life
like this.” Neil looked at me. “I can’t even begin to find the words to tell you how much I
miss you, how much your anger hurts.”
I took a deep breath. “I’m glad you’ve explained everything and I’m glad you’ve
apologised, but the fact remains—you’ve taken him back at my expense. You won’t get rid of
him. You can’t see me because you say he’s jealous. He has no right—as far as I’m concerned
he forfeited the right to be jealous when the two of you first split up.” I reached for the
handle. “I suppose I should feel better because you miss me, but I don’t. I just feel angry
because you haven’t the balls to toss the bastard out and get on with your life.”
Neil gazed through the windscreen, his hands tight on the steering wheel. The flush on
his cheeks betrayed him. He swallowed and kept staring straight ahead. “Then that’s it.”
Something slammed into the side of the car.
Someone.
Simon, hair plastered to his face by the rain, hammered at the roof with a cricket bat
and kicked the door.
“Jesus fucking Christ.” I put my hand on the handle. “This fucking ends now.”
“Don’t.” Neil closed his hand around my wrist. “He’s not worth it.”
“There’s two of us and only one of him. We should shove him into the boot and take
him to the police or the nearest rehab. Neither of us should have to deal with this.”
The fact that we remained in the car talking inflamed our assailant even more. He
grabbed the driver’s side door handle and tugged at it while still kicking and throwing in a
stream of muffled obscenities for good measure.
“I think ignoring him is the best approach, don’t you?” Neil leant back in his seat and
smiled at me. “It may tire him out after a while.”
“This is insane. I’ve had a long day. I’d just like to get home and put my feet up without
all this sodding drama. Don’t you think he could break something with that bat?”
“No, he bloody won’t.” Neil lunged out of the car.
I was right behind him.
Simon swung wildly, missing Neil by inches.
“Give me the bat, please.” Neil’s voice was level, as if he was asking someone to pass
him the salt.
“You lied to me!” Simon screamed.
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I watched his face, watched how he kept his eyes on Neil. As long as he did that we’d
be fine. As long as Neil kept him intent on whacking him.
“I haven’t lied to you, because I haven’t said anything at all to you.” Neil replied
calmly. “Now give me the bat.”
“Fuck off.” Spittle flew from Simon’s mouth. He swung the bat again. Neil leapt back,
stumbling on the uneven gravel.
Simon stepped back, ready for another go.
I seized his wrist with one hand and wrapped my other arm around his neck. “Drop it,
now.”
“Gerroffme.”
I tightened my arm across his throat. “Drop it.”
He dropped the bat. Neil scrambled for it and picked it up, breathing hard.
“Let me go.” The request escaped in a strangled wheeze.
I looked at Neil, who nodded. I dropped my arm and gave him a little shove. Simon
staggered sideways, spun around and glared at us. “I knew it,” he growled. “I knew it.”
I resisted the urge to snatch the bat from Neil and give Simon a bit of a ‘behave
yourself’ smack.
The rain fell around our bizarre little drama. Neil’s chest rose and fell. His eyes were
full of barely contained fury. “Get in the fucking car.”
Simon slouched towards the waiting car.
Neil looked at me. “I’m sorry. I’ll take him back. It’s probably better if you make your
own way.”
“I’ll be fine.” I wanted to be away from the pair of them. A walk in the downpour was
just what I needed. A dose of pneumonia would’ve been equally welcome. I turned away
and headed down the drive. I didn’t even look up when the car crept past. I was done.
* * * *
“I have excellent news.” Cornelia placed an envelope on the table. “I saw Mr Hamlyn
today, to finalise arrangements for the party. Everything is all in order. He’s also given us
this.” She held the envelope up. “It’s a cheque for ten thousand pounds. He says to go all out
with the catering.”
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“That’s wonderfully generous.” Brenda picked up the cheque. “Oh, heavens. It’s made
out to Lawson’s Larder.” She smiled and handed the cheque to me. “I thought you two
weren’t talking.”
“We’re not.” I didn’t want the bloody thing. If he thought he was going to make things
better by pumping money into my business, he was wrong. “But it’s very kind of him.” I
folded the cheque and shoved it in my pocket.
“We had better do a thank you letter.” The vicar looked at me.
I glared back. “Go ahead. I’ll be happy enough to put my name on it along with
everyone else’s, but I’m not writing it.”
“I’ll write it.” Cornelia scribbled in her notebook. “I’ll bring it round to everyone to sign
tomorrow.”
I wanted to rip the cheque into tiny pieces. Instead, I held my silence and concentrated
on the minutiae of arranging a village celebration.
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Chapter Seven
The tablecloths fluttered in the light breeze. The tables, three long ones, were set out
beneath a pair of ancient beech trees on the lawn. Someone had draped bunting around the
broad trunks and from tree to tree. It all looked very festive, just waiting for people to mill
around beneath it.
A fourth table groaned beneath the weight of the food. With that final cheque, there
was more than enough to provide a substantial feast. I’d been chained to the kitchen for the
previous fortnight, filling the freezer with everything that could be made in advance. The
two days prior to the party had been a nightmare of sandwich and salad prep, made bearable
by an invasion of local WI volunteers in my kitchen. Now, the fruits of our collective labours
rested on the table—pork pies, sausage rolls, chorizo sausage rolls, sandwiches with more
fillings than I thought possible, potato salad, green salad, tomato salad. There were biscuits—
plenty of those—cakes, bowls of fresh strawberries. For the thirsty there was lemonade,
strawberry punch, tea, coffee and a few kegs of beer donated by the landlord of the pub.
“Well done, Kieran.” The vicar patted my shoulder. “You and the ladies have done us
proud.”
“Thanks.”
“You must be exhausted.”
“I intend to sleep for the next two days. I’m glad it’s a long weekend.”
“For you, perhaps,” he sniffed. “I have a thanksgiving service to prepare for.”
“I shall go home and give thanks with a bottle of wine.” I was grateful when Cornelia
waved me over.
I hoped it wasn’t an emergency. I just wanted the bloody thing over and done with. I
hated that I’d see Neil, no doubt with Loony Jealous Sponging Ex in tow, and that it would
be impossible to be anything other than polite. The other Committee members had added
little personal words of thanks when they’d signed the thank you letter. It had been all I
could do to sign my name. The donation had meant that I hadn’t had to put so much of my
own money into the party. I’d stood to make a loss initially, but had been prepared because I
was promoting my business. So I should’ve been effusive in my thanks.
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I just couldn’t do it.
Cornelia put her hand on my arm. “It all looks splendid.”
“Thanks.” The first villagers were arriving, strolling along the drive, their feet
crunching on the gravel.
“Will you be all right today, what with Mr Hamlyn and…everything.”
“I’ll be fine. I’ll be too busy serving food to worry about ‘everything’.”
“I’m sure you will be. I’m very impressed by what you’ve done. I’m sure your business
will do well from all of this.”
“I hope so.”
The trickle of partygoers soon became a steady stream. The village brass band sat in a
crescent of chairs and played Elgar. Children chased each other across the lawn and Ellen,
the village photographer, was everywhere. The village website would probably crash with
the weight of the number of photographs.
The vicar made his way towards the brass band, which meant he was about to make his
little speech. I retreated to the food table, where the WI ladies were already waiting, all in
Union Jack aprons they’d bought for the occasion. I’d stuck resolutely to my chef’s whites,
well…apart from the Union Jack trousers. There wouldn’t be much to do except make sure
that the platters were supplied with food.
The band played a fanfare and the crowd fell silent.
“Hello, everyone. Thank you for coming today to celebrate our Queen’s Diamond
Jubilee.” He glanced up at the sky. “The Lord has seen fit to grant us good weather…for the
moment…so let us enjoy this day, the splendid food made by Mr Lawson with help from our
WI ladies, and these splendid grounds. We must thank Mr Hamlyn for so graciously
allowing us to be here.” He nodded towards Neil, who’d slipped to the edge of the crowd.
“Would you like to say a word or two, Mr Hamlyn?”
Neil stepped forward. I hated that absurd lift in my stomach when I saw him.
“Thank you all for coming. I’m very happy to play a part in the village celebrations. I’m
looking forward to tucking in to the great food I see on the table. I know that Mr Lawson has
done a terrific job, and that you’ll all enjoy it.” He looked at me and smiled. “I just want to
say that I’ve had some documents drawn up this week that will ensure that whoever owns
the Hall will have to make provision for village celebrations in the grounds. So I’m hoping
this will be just one of many happy celebrations here.”
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Applause rippled across the lawn, punctuated by a few cheers.
“That’s all I have to say. Enjoy the day, enjoy the celebration.”
The vicar stepped up once more. “Food is served, everyone.”
We braced ourselves for the onslaught as everyone fell into a ragged queue. I looked for
Neil and couldn’t find him. Moreover, I couldn’t see Simon. I wondered if that was a good
thing.
For the next half an hour or so, we were busy serving everyone, making more
sandwiches, refilling the pitchers. I was too busy to think about anything beyond making
sure everyone had plenty to eat. My feet ached and I was sick of the smell of salmon and
eggs.
Finally, the last plate was filled. The WI ladies took their food and joined the others at
the tables. I helped myself to a few bits and pieces and sat down beside the table, enjoying
the relative peace.
“Here you are.” Neil dragged a chair across the grass and sat down beside me. “Mind if
I join you?”
“Sure.” I was too tired to argue and the crowded lawn was hardly the place.
“It all looks great.”
“Aren’t you eating?” I held my plate out towards him. “Help yourself.”
He took a sausage roll. “Thanks.”
I took a cheese sandwich, not sure what to say.
Neil’s knee touched mine. “If you’re looking for Simon, he’s gone.” His voice was flat.
“He left?”
“I gave him a huge chunk of money and told him to piss off. He wasn’t looking for a
job, he wasn’t doing anything. I ran out of sympathy.”
“Good.”
“That was six weeks ago. The night…well…that night.”
I set the plate down. “You did?”
“I did. You were right. You are right. I’ve spent the last six weeks trying to think of a
way of making things right between us.” He looked at me. There was no doubting the mute
appeal in his eyes. “I hate how I treated you. If you told me to piss off right now, I wouldn’t
blame you.”
“He’s not coming back?”
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“No.” He stood up. “Will you take a walk with me?”
“Yes.”
We walked away from the party, across the lawn. The afternoon had fallen into a
golden stillness, the sun lost behind a haze. A rabbit loped across the grass towards a rose
bed. Neil’s shoulder brushed mine.
“Here.” He took my hand and sat down on a bench in the shade of the wall. We were
surrounded by flowers and the hum of drowsy bees. I sat down beside him.
“Will you give me a second chance?”
My thumb drifted across the back of his hand, as if it was meant to, as if it belonged
there. “I don’t know.”
He sighed and looked at our entwined fingers then he leaned close and kissed me.
“Does this help?”
I settled against him, helpless. “It might.”
“I’ve missed you…a lot.” He guided my hand to the front of his jeans.
“So it would seem.” I rubbed my palm over his flies and then pulled away. “But I need
time to think about this.”
Neil opened his mouth.
I placed my forefinger over his lips. “I think it’s only fair, don’t you?”
He licked my fingertip and smiled. “I suppose so.”
“I’d better get back.” I stood up. “The last thing we need is the vicar stumbling in on us.
I don’t think his heart could take it.”
He rose and slipped his arm around my waist. “Don’t take too long.”
We strolled across the lawn. Neil’s arm fell away and I immediately missed his touch. It
was almost enough that his fingers brushed mine when we returned to the party. Cornelia
was helping herself to more sausage rolls. She winked at me. “Have you two made up?”
“We might.” I added more sausage rolls to the plate.
She smiled and patted my hand. “I hope so. You make a lovely couple.”
“That’s very…open mi…kind of you.” I glimpsed Neil chatting with a group of
partygoers, the lord of the manor at ease with his surroundings. Temptation tugged at me
and threatened to chase any idea of a rational decision away. That irresistible combination of
white shirt and denim was just too much, especially when a couple of buttons on said shirt
were undone.
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“Kieran?”
“Sorry, what?”
“I asked if there were any of those little pork pies left.”
“Oh, yes, of course.” I reached into the cooler and placed more pies on the plate.
“They’re very nice.”
“Thanks. I don’t think I’ll be making any more any time soon.”
Cornelia laughed. “I can’t say I blame you.”
“I’m going to stop off at the chippy on the way home and I’m going to have nice, greasy
fish and chips, and tomorrow night I’m ordering an Indian takeaway.”
“Oh dear. I hope we haven’t put you off cooking for life.” She helped herself to a
devilled egg.
“No. Just for a few days.” I poured myself a cup of lemonade and sat down once more,
content to watch Neil move among the partygoers.
Mercifully, Cornelia got the hint and left me in peace, zeroing in on the vicar, who
happened to be passing. My feet ached and I was sick of the sight of party food, but it didn’t
matter, not while I had such a glorious view.
* * * *
I put the last of my things into the van as the first raindrops spattered on the lawn. The
last of the partygoers fled down the drive. The tables had already been taken away, all the
rubbish tucked into a tidy row of bin bags to be collected later. My fellow Committee
members stood beside the gate saying their thanks to Neil before they left.
He walked back across the lawn, the rising wind tugging at his hair. I closed the van
door and waited.
“I don’t suppose I could come back to your place, could I? This big old place is bloody
depressing when it’s raining.”
The rain fell around us. A low roll of thunder promised more. “As long as you don’t
expect me to do any cooking. I was going to get something from the chippy later. Plus, the
place is a tip. There’s at least a month’s worth of dust, crumbs on the carpet and I didn’t
make the bed this morning.”
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“I was going to leave the white gloves at home. As for an unmade bed, even if it was
made it wouldn’t stay that way for very long.” His hand stole around my neck. “Would it?”
“You’re assuming I’m ready to give us another chance.”
“Are you?”
“I’m still thinking. I need persuading. Do you think you can do that?” I brushed his lips
with mine and stepped back.
“I think I can do that. I’ll get my things and see you there in a few minutes.”
“Bring wine. I don’t have any.” I kissed him again and jumped into the van.
Back at the house I ran upstairs and hurriedly changed the bed linen, leaving the bed
looking unmade, before picking discarded clothes and damp towels off the bathroom floor.
I’d just finished wiping smears of toothpaste from the mirror when Neil arrived with a clink
of bottles and the thud of his overnight bag hitting the vestibule floor.
“Are you there?”
“I’m just about to have a shower.” Not entirely a fib. I wanted to wash the smell of food
away.
His rapid footfall on the stairs followed. He peered around the bathroom door and
grinned. “Would you like someone to scrub your back?”
My dick reacted to the request like sodding Pavlov’s dog. “I wouldn’t say no.”
Neil stepped into the bathroom. He hooked his finger around the top of my chef’s tunic.
“Then this had better come off.”
“I agree.” I reached for his shirt. “So had this.” I slipped my fingers between the buttons
and found warm skin.
He inhaled sharply and closed his eyes. “I’ve missed you.”
“Really?” I relieved him of his shirt and grazed his shoulders with my tongue.
“Really.”
I shrugged out of my tunic and let it drop to the floor, followed by my trousers.
“I suppose we’d better turn the shower on.” Neil kicked his jeans away.
It was my turn to catch my breath. “Might not be a bad idea.”
He reached into the shower cubicle and turned the tap. The breathless silence was
broken by the patter of water. Another rumble of thunder brought the storm into the house.
Rain streamed down the skylight.
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Neil took my hand and led me into the torrent of water. We stared at each other for a
few long moments before he kissed me.
I put my arms around him and pulled him close, until even water couldn’t slide
between us. “So, what do you intend to do now?”
He clasped my arse and moved his hips slowly against mine. “I’m sure I’ll think of
something.”
“You’d better make it quick.” I caught his lower lip between my teeth. “I’m not feeling
very patient.”
“You’re very demanding.”
“I’m very randy.” I let my finger drift along the full, hard length of his cock. “And I’m
thinking that you are, too.”
“You think?” His voice shook. “It’s been months, the longest few months of my life. I’ve
wanked myself senseless more than a few times just thinking of you.” He enclosed both our
dicks in his hand and shivered.
I covered his hand with mine. “It might be a good idea if you wanked us both
senseless.”
Neil silenced me with a kiss. “I can do that.” He tightened his fingers around my cock
and his, and sighed.
The water spilled around us, the murmur of shower water mingled with the steady rain
and the thunder. I grew in Neil’s hand and groaned into his mouth.
“We’ll go blind with all this wanking, you know.” Neil licked my neck. “I think we
need to get out of this shower.”
I turned the water off and reached for a towel. “Are you saying you want to go to bed?”
I trailed the towel across his chest.
“I’m saying I want you to fuck me.” He pushed the wet hair from my face. “Please.”
“We’d better hurry then, because I’m… I’m.”
Neil trailed his thumb over the tip of my cock. “So you are.” He took my hand. “Come
on then. Let’s mess that bed up a bit more.”
We stumbled across the landing and onto the bed. I groped for the lube and a condom.
Neil watched me fumble with the wrapper for a moment and then took it from me.
“Here…” He tore the foil with his teeth, removed the condom and unrolled it with great care.
“How’s that?” He left a kiss on the tip before lying down once more.
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I hurried with the lube, slathering it where it needed to go, and returned the bottle to
the nightstand with a shaking hand. All the while, Neil stroked himself.
I sat back on my heels for a moment and watched him. The soft, grey light fell across
the bed, touching his skin with shadows. The rain whispered beneath the sleepy growl of
thunder.
Neil faltered when I slid my finger in. His eyes fluttered open and he smiled before
reaching for me. I withdrew my finger and edged forward, easing his legs apart and back.
“Are you sure about this?”
“Oh, Christ…yes.” He seized a handful of my hair. “Please, just…fuck me.”
I pushed my way in, pausing to breathe.
“Not…quick…enough.” Neil thrust upward, taking me in. Skin slapped against skin.
I groaned and my arms shook. “All right then.” I moved back, then glided in.
Neil grinned and pulled my head down to his. His breaths were short, sharp gusts on
my lips. “Go on, Lawson, reclaim me.”
“Shut up.” I covered his mouth with mine and moved with more purpose, driving in
and retreating. Neil clung to me, his fingers seeking purchase on my skin. I kissed him into
silence until all he could do was gasp with each thrust. His eyes were fixed on mine. I
wanted to see his face when he came, to remind myself of the man I fell in love with. His
irises mirrored the stormy light and his parted lips curled into a smile.
I slowed, wanting to savour the moment.
Neil ploughed my flesh with his fingertips. He threw his head back and called out.
My balls tightened. I dropped my head, drove forward one last time and reclaimed
him.
We recovered in silence, while the storm hurled rain against the windows and thunder
rattled the glass.
Neil settled beside me, his arm heavy across my waist. “So, have you made your
decision?”
“There are conditions.”
He shifted and rested his chin on my chest. “What might those be?”
I stroked his tousled hair. “Simon. If he comes back, he can’t stay.”
Neil smiled. “There’s four reasons why that will never happen. Firstly, a watertight
restraining order. Secondly, I didn’t give him a big pay-off for him to blow through. He’ll get
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a set amount, every month for a year. If he contacts me in any way, shape or form, the
payments stop for good.” He touched my lips with his forefinger. “Thirdly, he wouldn’t have
the Hall to come back to. I’m selling it.”
My guts rolled. I stared at him while thoughts of him leaving raced through my mind.
“What?”
“It’s too big for me. I don’t know what the hell I was thinking when I bought it.”
“You’re leaving? After all of this, you’re going?”
He smiled and shifted until he rested on me, his weight pinning me to the mattress.
“No, and this brings me to my fourth reason why Simon isn’t worth worrying about. I love
you. I’ve only ever loved you. I will only ever love you. I’d rather live here with you. It’s
where I’m happy—it’s where I want to be.” He moved his lips over mine.
“You want to live here?”
“Yes, and no more business trips. I’m delegating some stuff for a change. And, if it’s all
right with you, I could appropriate your box room and use it as an office. I wouldn’t take up
much space.”
I stared at him. “Bloody hell.”
Neil grinned and kissed the tip of my nose. “What do you reckon? The ball’s in your
court, Lawson.” He followed this with a subtle, teasing shift of his hips. “What would the
Committee think if one of their members lived in sin with the former lord of the manor?”
“The Committee is all wrapped up. The Jubilee party is done and dusted. I couldn’t
give a monkey’s chuff what anyone thinks.”
“Are you saying yes?”
“Given that you seem intent on seducing me into letting you stay, I suppose I am.”
“And do you love me?”
“Yes.” I wound my fingers through his hair. “So you can move in whenever you like.”
Neil smiled and rested his head on my chest. Outside the storm faded to a soft rain. The
red, white and blue bunting the Committee had nailed to the house fluttered in the breeze.
The party was well and truly over, but the fun was just about to begin.
Also available from Total-E-Bound Publishing:
Mourning Jack
S.A. Meade
Excerpt
Chapter One
It amazed me how a street filled with people could fall into complete silence. The only
sounds came from the distant murmur of the motorway and a group of sparrows squabbling
in a tree close to the memorial. The cortège, led by a mute in a long tail coat, crept past the
ancient town hall and slowed to a halt in front of us. I stared at the hearse, at the flag-draped
coffin and couldn’t imagine Jack being in there. Only the muted weeping of his parents, his
sister and her children confirmed that he was. I watched them step forward and place red
roses on the top of the hearse. I did the same, mine being a white one.
Goodbye, old friend.
I wiped my eyes, trying to erase the burn of tears. Charlotte, Jack’s sister, leaned against
me. I held her in silence while another person approached the hearse. Tall, dark-haired and
slender, his face pinched and pale. He didn’t have a flower. Instead, he placed his palm on
the glass and whispered something before stepping back into the black-clad knot of
mourners. No one offered him comfort except for Charlotte who lifted her head and gave
him a watery smile. He nodded and faded back into the crowd—another person in black,
stilled and silenced by grief. I wondered, briefly, whether he was the one Jack had written to
me about.
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“Ade, I’ve finally met someone I can see spending the rest of my life with. I miss him like crazy.
I’m counting down the days until leave. I’m climbing into bed with Cal, and I’m not leaving it, not
until I have to get on that fucking plane…”
I stroked Charlotte’s hair and swallowed when the cortège moved on, crawling slowly
forward past the Royal British Legion members with their lowered standards and salutes.
Old men who’d fought other wars, mourning the loss of one of their own from the endless
bloody mess that was Afghanistan. Jack would’ve loved this.
Fucking hell, Ade. All this fuss for me? All I did was step on a fucking IED, hardly a hero’s
death, just a stupid mistake. Just go to the pub and get rat-arsed in my name, that’ll do.
I swallowed and wiped my eyes.
Charlotte’s sobs subsided to sniffles. She stepped back and smiled. “Thanks, Ade.”
“Any time. You’re coming to the pub, aren’t you?”
“Everyone is.”
“Good.” I kissed her forehead. “I’m going to head back now and make sure everything
is ready.”
She nodded. “I’ll round everyone up. We’ll see you there.”
The crowds were breaking apart, people drifting back to their everyday lives. The
bikers stood around talking, apart from those who volunteered to look after the mourners.
The standards were carried away and traffic moved along the High Street once more.
Wootton Bassett became just another little market town with pubs, betting shops and
butchers. I walked to my car and wished Jack was still there.
* * * *
The private dining room soon filled with people, all picking at the buffet. I’d gone for
Jack’s favourites at Charlotte’s request. There were sausage rolls, pork pies, Scotch eggs, the
usual. In spite of his best mate being a chef, Jack always derided the ‘fancy-schmancy’ stuff.
“Give me a good ploughman’s any day.”
I didn’t think he’d mind if the sausage rolls were made with wild boar and apple
sausage, or that the pork pies weren’t those unnaturally pink horrors you get in
supermarkets. I’d made pâté the day before and the bread that morning. My commis chefs
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did me proud with the spread. A whole poached salmon, dressed with translucent slivers of
cucumber, formed the centrepiece on the buffet table. It had been in my freezer since Jack’s
last visit.
“See. I didn’t spend all the time in Scotland in bed with Cal. I brought this for you. Put it in the
freezer and cook it for me when I come back on leave.”
It hurt to look at it and at the large photo of Jack standing thigh-deep in a Scottish
stream holding the fish and grinning. Sunlight glanced off his fair hair, finding streaks of
corn silk there. I could almost hear him.
“Will you look at the size of this fucker. Told ya I could fish.”
Charlotte had had the photo blown up, mounted, and brought it to me. I propped it up
on an easel so everyone could see it. People passed by and paused. The man who might be
Cal sat on his own beside it, cradling a glass of wine in his hands. I wondered whether I
should talk to him had no idea where to start.
“Penny for them.” Charlotte appeared beside me.
“Who’s that, the one sitting by Jack’s picture?”
“That’s Cal. He’s taking this very hard. He was crazy about Jack. They were crazy about
each other.”
“Yeah, Jack told me.”
“I really feel for him. I wish I knew what to say.” She sipped her wine. “He just shuts
himself off. We’ve all tried including him, talking to him. Jack said he wasn’t one for talking.
I think that’s why they hit it off, because Jack finally found someone who didn’t mind
listening to his endless chatter.”
“I miss him, Ade. I sit out here in the arse end of nowhere and I count the days until I’m back
with him again. I love his silence, the way he smiles when I talk too much. I can’t bloody wait.”
I looked at Cal again, all pulled in on himself, his dark eyes staring into a grief I
couldn’t even begin to imagine.
“Talk to him, Ade. You knew Jack better than anyone. He told you everything. Maybe
you can help.”
“I don’t think there’s anything I can say that would make him feel better.” I picked up a
plate. “I’ll take him something to eat. He looks like he could use a good feed.”
“It’s worth a try.” Charlotte helped herself to a sausage roll. “And…thanks.”
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I filled the plate with some of the salmon, fresh mayonnaise, a sausage roll, a slice of the
pork pie and some salad.
“I thought you might be hungry.” I pulled up a chair and handed him the plate. “You
should eat.”
He held the plate and stared at it. “That’s nice of you, but I’m really not hungry.”
“I bet you haven’t eaten in days, have you?”
He set the plate down, sliding it beneath his chair. “Does it matter?”
I retrieved the plate and passed it back to him. “I really don’t like the idea of having to
phone an ambulance if you pass out. It’s bad for business if the locals see an ambulance
outside the place.”
“You must be Ade.” There was the briefest flicker of a smile. “Jack told me all about
you.”
“I’m sure he did.” I held out a fork. “Try the salmon.”
He glanced at the picture, trailed his fingers along the edge and took the fork. “That
salmon?”
“The very same. So do Jack a favour and try it. You know as well as I do that he’d be
grasping you warmly by the throat and ordering you to eat, if he was here.”
“If he was here, I wouldn’t feel like this.”
“Touché. Still, eat.”
Cal slipped a sliver of salmon on to the fork and lifted it to his mouth. He followed it
with another, bigger piece. He nodded. “This is good. Thanks.”
“Yes, it is good. I poached it this morning with white wine and plenty of fresh dill. Try
the mayonnaise with it. That’s freshly made too.”
He did.
I watched every mouthful as if I were feeding a child. When the salmon was gone, the
sausage roll followed, then the pork pie and salad. When he’d finished, Cal handed me the
plate. “Thanks. I guess I needed that.”
“There’s plenty more where that came from.”
“No, that’s enough for now.” He retrieved his wine glass and took a large gulp. “I’d
better take it easy. That’s the first meal I’ve had since…” That brief flicker of animation
disappeared, overtaken by shadows. He was Heartbroken Cal once more.
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“I know. I’m sorry. If it’s any comfort, he was crazy about you. He talked about you all
the time. You made him happy.”
He swallowed and looked at the ceiling. “He made me happy too. I’ve never known
anyone like Jack. He just bowled into my life and swept me along with him.”
“Yeah, that was Jack. Never quiet and never still.”
Cal twisted a napkin in his hands. “I don’t know how I’m going to cope. I don’t know
how I’m going to cope with knowing he’s never coming back. Everything feels so pointless
and empty now. It’s all I can do to get out of bed in the morning. I only came here today
because I didn’t want to let him down.” His voice wavered. “What do I do now?”
I put my hand on his shoulder. “You get by. You take a deep breath and you get your
arse in gear. It won’t be easy but, if you want to ‘owe’ Jack, don’t curl up and try to die with
him.”
He nodded and wiped his eyes. “I know. It’s only been a week and I just can’t get my
head around it.”
“A week is no time.”
“You and Jack went back a long way, didn’t you?”
“We came out at the same time, more or less. We helped each other through the family
dramas, hung out together and consoled each other when relationships went tits up. Yeah,
we were close. I’ll miss him.” I couldn’t even begin to imagine Cal’s ache. It was bad enough
losing my best friend. To lose the love of my life…
A sudden motion caught my eye. I glanced at the doorway and spotted one of the
commis chefs beckoning me frantically.
“Bugger it, crisis time in the kitchen.” I patted Cal’s shoulder. “I’d better see what’s
happening before someone burns the place down.”
He glanced at his watch. “I’d better get going. I’m tired. I just want to sleep for a while.”
“Don’t spend the rest of your life mourning Jack. He wouldn’t want that.”
Cal smiled when he rose. “Yeah, I know.” He shook my hand. “Thanks for making me
eat.”
“Make sure you keep eating.” I fished into my wallet, scribbled my mobile phone and
home numbers on a business card. “If you just want to talk, call me. Don’t keep it all to
yourself.”
www.total-e-bound.com
He took the card and put it in his pocket. “Thanks. I might just do that. Are you going
to the funeral?”
“Yes.” I had a few days before then to get used to the idea that I’d be helping to carry
my best friend’s coffin to the altar.
“I guess I’ll see you there.”
“You will.” I left Cal saying goodbye to Jack’s family and disappeared into the chaos of
the kitchen.
About the Author
S.A. Meade has recently returned to England after eight years in Arizona, where she
learned to love air conditioners and realised that rain wasn’t such a bad thing after all.
She lives with her husband, son and two cats in one of the most beautiful villages in
Wiltshire and is partial to gin and tonic with loads of ice and lemon.
Email:
S.A. loves to hear from readers. You can find her contact information, website and
author biography at
.
Also by Author
Total-E-Bound Publishing
www.total-e-bound.com
Take a look at our exciting range of literagasmic™
erotic romance titles and discover pure quality
at Total-E-Bound.
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