Chapter 15

15

Laura shifted her canvas bag higher on her shoulder. The carton of orange juice was still digging into her side and as much as she tried shifting around the items in her shopping bag, she couldn’t get things comfy.

She glanced back at the small grocery shop. If it wasn’t for the chilly atmosphere she’d just escaped from, she would have popped back in to ask for another bag, but if she didn’t step foot inside there again, it’d be too soon. The look Miss Cooke had given her when she’d walked in and picked up a basket would give her nightmares for weeks, and the man on the till had been no better, tapping the small screen to indicate how much she owed rather than even muttering the amount out loud to her.

She sighed. That was it. She’d had enough. From now on, she’d shop elsewhere. There was a big retail park with every shop she could need just a half-hour’s drive away and a supermarket closer than that.

Yes, she’d tried to spend her money in the local shops to support local businesses and local people, but they’d made it crystal clear they didn’t want her, so she’d take her money somewhere else, she’d line the pockets of the big chain stores if she had to.

She looked up as a big fat raindrop splattered on her forehead and dribbled down her nose and picked up her pace as the heavens opened, releasing a torrent of rain. Pulling her hood over her head, she looked down at her bag, the mint green canvas quickly turning a deep evergreen. If she didn’t get a move on, the bag of flour she’d bought would soon turn to a gloopy mess and the croissant she’d treated herself to, a mound of sodden dough.

As she turned the corner, a clap of thunder vibrated through the sky, shortly followed by a flash of lightning. Fantastic. More rain and more thunder, even the weather was making it obvious she wasn’t welcome. That’s all it seemed to do here – rain. She spotted the pub as the rainfall increased and the thunder rumbled around her again. She’d run in there and take shelter before venturing out again.

Yes, she’d have to face Jackson, who she’d been hoping to avoid for the day at least, but if she was honest, it would be good to see him and realise all the mixed-up feelings from last night had been just that – mixed-up. She might even be able to get a good night’s sleep tonight after seeing him and setting to rest any notion of there being anything between them, because she certainly hadn’t slept well last night.

Ha, it would kill two birds with one stone, so to speak: quieten the ridiculous feelings she was having about Jackson and provide a shelter from the storm as well.

She crossed the road, jumping over the puddle forming against the kerb before she pushed the heavy wooden door open.

It was the warmth from the open fire which hit her first; that and the dry. She reached up to yank her hood down, but then froze. She noticed the frustrated tone of Jackson’s voice before her brain deciphered the words he was speaking. The tone caught her off guard. This was Jackson. Forever the calm one, the even keel. Not today though. She hadn’t heard him sound so angry for years, not since Mike had cheated on her and broken her heart in college and she’d caught Jackson having a go at him down the alley which ran behind the supermarket in their hometown.

‘…And you really think you’re one to preach? You moved into your place after Will was sent to live with his daughter. And you, Ron, didn’t I hear you’d…’ Jackson’s voice trailed off as Ms Taunton stood up from her bar stool.

Holding the edge of her hood, Laura peered across the pub floor. It sounded as though Jackson was in the middle of an argument, but with who? A group of five or six people were gathered around the bar, Evie Taunton to the side.

She began walking, weaving through the tables, suddenly eager for him to have someone on his side.

‘Jacks, I don’t know why you’re getting so het up about it. She’s just a newbie and the sooner she takes the hint and moves out of Pennycress Inn, the quicker things can go back to how they were.’

Pennycress Inn? She? Were they referring to her? Laura stopped short and pulled her hood lower, shielding her face and identity from them.

‘That’s right. It should never have been sold,’ the man Jackson had referred to as Ron took a sip from his pint glass before continuing. ‘We need to stick together.’

‘No, you all need to butt out and give Laura a chance. I know it’s an adjustment with the inn being in new hands, but Laura is a good person and she’d be a valuable asset to the village if you just let her.’ Jackson took a deep breath. ‘The way each and every one of you shunned her yesterday, you should be ashamed of your behaviour.’

He had noticed then.

‘Hey, no need for that, Jacks. We’re only trying to do the right thing.’ Evie rubbed her fingers across Jackson’s hand.

‘No, you’re really not.’ Looking down at the bar, Jackson shook his head and pulled his hand away. ‘This is no way to behave, and you all know it. Drop the stupid pact and grow up.’

‘Now…’ Ron pointed his pint glass in Jackson’s direction. ‘We welcomed you to the village with open arms. You know there’s more to this than her being a newcomer.’

Pulling the tea towel from his shoulder, Jackson threw it onto the bar before turning and disappearing into the kitchen.

As the group huddled closer and lowered their voices, Laura stood still and held her breath. Was he going to come back out?

One man turned, holding up his hand to the group and raising his voice. ‘Back to work I go. Catch you later.’

As if being shocked into moving, Laura turned quickly and walked to the door, her head down, trying desperately not to draw any attention to herself. They hadn’t noticed her, had they? As the man reached the door before her and held it open, she shuffled through, glad she’d escaped unnoticed.

Outside, she headed back to the inn, oblivious to the rain drenching her coat and bag, the rumble of thunder around her. What had just happened? What had she witnessed?

As she reached the top of Wisteria Lane, her hood slipped from its position, but she continued, the rain quickly soaking her hair, strands sticking to her wet cheeks. She didn’t care. She’d been right. At least she hadn’t been paranoid. A strangled laugh escaped her lips. That was a good thing, wasn’t it? She wasn’t going crazy, she was just being shunned in an attempt to… what? Make her sell up? Run back to her parents’ with her tail between her legs?

Letting the gate swing closed behind her, she hurried down the garden path towards the porch. Her first instinct was to flee. To pack up her bags and escape. To give the villagers what they wanted. But what then? Where would she be? Homeless and penniless, living with her parents again. Without a job and with no prospect of moving on.

Of course, it wouldn’t be forever. It would only be until Pennycress sold, and she found somewhere else. Somewhere more welcoming. Somewhere without crumbling plaster. Without woodworm. And preferably with a bog-standard electric oven too.

Huh, maybe it would be a good thing in the long run. She’d at least know a little more of what she was looking for.

She closed the door behind her and made her way into the kitchen, placing her bag of wet shopping on the table. Shrugging out of her coat, she headed out into the hallway, into the sitting room, before taking the stairs. As she wandered around the guest bedrooms, she ran her fingers across the golden wallpaper in one room, the large roses emblazoned upon a cream background in another, the path of raised vines on the feature wall of another room.

She didn’t want to leave. She loved this place. Despite there being more work involved before she could open than she’d ever imagined there would be, there was something about it. About the bones of the place, about the building.

She’d fallen in love with Pennycress, and she wanted to stay.

Sinking to the top step of the ornate staircase, Laura bundled her wet hair into a messy bun. Those people wouldn’t run her out of Meadowfield. She’d just have to make them see she was a good person who only wanted the best for the inn.

And that needed to start right now.

Standing up, she ran down the stairs and grabbed her car key. She’d start with fixing the plaster and as she now knew there was no chance of getting a professional in and why she’d been turned down by them all, she’d do it herself. How hard could it be? There were YouTube videos for everything, right?