Chapter 5

5

Laura held her mobile away from her and stared at the screen. The call had been cut off. The train must have gone through a tunnel or something. Well, good. She didn’t need that negativity in her life. She didn’t need any of her family’s negativity. They could keep it and she’d show them. She’d show them she could do it. She’d open Pennycress Inn and the guests would flood in. Business would be good. She’d be a success. She would.

‘Hey, wait up.’

Jackson.

With her heart sinking, she stopped walking and turned around. Maybe he wouldn’t be so easy to avoid after all.

‘Morning.’ As he jogged up to her, he gave her one of those killer grins which would have had the teenage Laura buckling at her knees.

‘Hi.’

‘How’s life as an innkeeper treating you so far?’ He pulled his dark blue rucksack higher on his shoulder as she began walking again and he matched her pace.

She shrugged. ‘Okay.’

‘Only okay? Aren’t you supposed to still be feeling the lofty high of moving and buying your own business?’ He looked over at her.

‘Yes, I mean it’s great.’ She held up her mobile. ‘But I’ve just been on the phone to Richie.’

‘Oh really? I’ve been meaning to catch up with him for a couple of months now. By the sounds of it, he’s knee-deep in nappies and toddlers.’ Jackson chuckled.

‘Yes. That and working in London. He got promoted a couple of weeks ago, so…’ She shrugged.

‘I didn’t ask yesterday, but how are your parents? And Jenny? I keep meaning to join you all for one of your mum’s monthly roast dinner events, but what with my shifts and other stuff…’ He shrugged. ‘I take it she still does them? That she still guilt trips you all into going home for dinner on the first Sunday of every month?’

Laura nodded. Her mum had always been a stickler for tradition and her ‘rule’ of making a large roast for the family on the first Sunday of the month had been going ever since Richie had moved out when he’d been nineteen.

‘I hope I’ve finally been forgiven for breaking away?’ Jackson gave a quick smile.

‘Ah, yes, that was quite the scandal.’ Laura remembered when Jackson had first started going out with his long-term girlfriend, Angie, who had been more into weekend country retreats than travelling to rainy Lincolnshire to sit around a table with a family who weren’t hers or Jackson’s. ‘Nobody dares utter the name Angie around my mum to this day.’

‘Ha.’ Jackson looked upwards as the sky grumbled, reminding them that thunder was forecast.

‘I’ll have to pop by and say hi to her.’ Not that she wanted to. She’d rather run a million marathons than have a cuppa with the snooty Angie.

‘That’ll be a tad difficult seeing as she’s currently thousands of miles away.’ Jackson grimaced. ‘She got a transfer with her job to the US about eight months ago.’

‘Oh, right. And you didn’t go with her? I would have thought that’d be right up your street, having the opportunity to travel and live abroad?’ She turned to him as his jaw flexed. They’d been dating for what? At least three years and she’d never seen Jackson quite so besotted with a woman before. Plus, he’d always spoken about travelling. Something must have happened.

‘No. We weren’t right for each other in the end, and besides, I had other responsibilities.’ Jackson pointed across the road to the whitewashed pub with a battered old sign swinging in the breeze. ‘That’s me. That’s where I work. Pub chef, bartender and general dogsbody until we get some more staff. See you around.’

‘Ah okay. Yep, see you.’ He was still a chef then but by the sounds of it, Angie moving away had set him on a different path too. Much like her with the divorce.

Giving him a quick wave, Laura turned in the opposite direction towards the village green and the shops. Yes! There was a hardware store. Perfect.

She glanced across the road as Jackson disappeared through the pub door. He’d tell her if he wanted to.

The bell above the door tinkled loudly, announcing her arrival, and she watched as the handful of people in the store turned and looked at her. Smiling broadly, she walked down the first aisle of racking displaying tools and other DIY paraphernalia. Here, these looked as though they were washing machine belts. She picked one up and turned it over, catching the eye of the man standing behind the counter, his arms folded as he sported an array of wood shavings in his beard. She could ask him for help.

Grabbing two different packs from the small silver hooks, Laura made her way towards the counter.

‘Excuse me, please?’

As soon as she’d started to speak, the man turned, apparently oblivious to her question and to her presence, and called towards an elderly couple who had just walked in. ‘Janette, Pat, over here. Your new mop head came in with yesterday’s delivery.’

‘Oh, lovely. We were hoping it would have, weren’t we, Pat?’ The woman turned to Pat as he closed the door behind them, the bell tinkling again.

‘Yes, yes. Especially after having Susan’s boys over yesterday.’ Pat nodded as they began walking towards the counter.

‘That’s right, what a mess they decided to make.’ Janette shook her head.

Laura shifted from foot to foot as she watched this exchange. The man behind the counter – Neil Parsons, if his name badge was to be believed – suddenly appeared to be very interested in Janette and Pat’s kitchen floor as they detailed every little thing that Susan’s boys had spilt on it yesterday. She forced herself to hold her smile and reminded herself that these were her neighbours, fellow villagers, and she wanted to make a good impression rather than hurrying them up and cutting into their conversation. Still, it was crazy that she was standing close enough to the counter to be able to read Neil’s name badge and yet he was acting as though he hadn’t laid eyes on her, let alone watched her walk over towards him.

‘Thanks again, Neil. You’re one of the good ones.’ Janette took the now-bagged mop head from Neil before looking pointedly at Laura and turning back to her husband.

Stepping forward, Laura placed both the belts on the counter, waiting there for a full two minutes before clearing her throat.

Neil slowly turned to her and raised his eyebrows.

‘Could you help me with these, please? I’m not sure which one I need.’ Laura picked up the two packets from the counter.

‘No idea.’ Shrugging, Neil picked up a pen and began scribbling on a notepad.

‘It’s for my washing machine.’ Could she have said anything else to sound more incompetent? Of course it was for her washing machine. She wasn’t likely to buy a washing machine belt to hang a picture from, now was she? ‘I have a photo of the machine…’

Sighing heavily, Neil looked at her. ‘Are you going to buy them or not?’

Frowning, Laura slumped her shoulders. Why had he been the perfect shopkeeper with the couple who had come in and yet he really couldn’t be bothered to even try to answer her question? She pulled her purse from her bag. ‘I’ll just take them both, please?’

Once Neil had slid the change across the counter, she mumbled a quick ‘thank you’ and left, relief sweeping over her as she stepped outside into the cold.

Well, that hadn’t exactly been a welcoming start to village life. Still, maybe he had assumed she had been a passer-by or something, someone he obviously felt he didn’t need to try to assist in any possible way.

On the plus side, she had her washing machine belt – two of them in fact, so one must fit. She’d be able to spin the bedding before putting it in the tumble dryer and fixing the guttering. From what she had tried to work out, the problem was above the bay window, and if she was lucky, it would only be blocked or need to be clipped back together – an easy fix and one she’d seen her dad do a dozen times in the past.

As she walked past the village bakery, her stomach rumbled, reminding her she’d skipped breakfast. Turning towards the window, she looked at the delicately decorated cupcakes, the overflowing cream doughnuts and the thickly covered chocolate flapjack. She’d deserve a treat after fixing the guttering, and all of the lavender shortbread Jackson had left yesterday had somehow disappeared.

This time, the door buzzed as she entered, the warmth and aroma of freshly baked bread and cookies pulling her in. Letting the door swing closed behind her, Laura scanned the room. A long bakery counter lined one wall with a handful of tables and chairs squeezed into the back of the shop. The yellow decor and lovingly painted canvases of the front of the bakery and a selection of bakery goods made it inviting and cosy.

Laura smiled as she stepped up to the counter and began studying the baked treats behind the glass. If she didn’t have so much to get done at the inn, she’d have been tempted to sit down and order a bacon buttie. But now she was living in the village, she could do that any time. Maybe she could even make it a weekly treat for herself, or else once the inn was open, she could bring some paperwork here and set herself up on a table in the corner for a couple of hours. She grinned at a woman sitting at one of the tables tapping away on her laptop. It looked like a nice, relaxing atmosphere.

‘Can I help you?’ The woman behind the counter took Laura by surprise with her curt tone.

‘Yes, please. Could I have… umm…’ What was it she wanted?

The door buzzed again, announcing a new arrival, and the woman behind the counter held her hand up to wave, her face lighting up with a friendliness which had been absent when Laura had walked in.

Glancing from the woman behind the counter to the mum and small child who had just entered, Laura felt hurried and pointed towards a cupcake. ‘I’ll take one of those, please? Thought I’d treat myself before the thunderstorm comes.’ She laughed nervously, trying to lighten the mood.

Without saying a word, the woman passed the cupcake to Laura and as soon as Laura had tapped her card against the machine; she turned towards the woman and child. ‘Morning, you two. What can I get you both today?’

Taking her cupcake, bag not included, Laura headed towards the door, listening to the two women chatting and laughing. She closed the door quietly behind herself before heading out of the centre of the village towards the inn. Was she being paranoid or were people being hostile towards her? She certainly wasn’t getting the warm welcome she’d hoped for from the village community.

She wiped a fingerful of pink icing from her cake and licked it off. She was being paranoid. As if people would shun her on purpose. But the cold reception she’d received in both the hardware store and the bakery hadn’t been her imagination. She was sure of that. Did the village community just hate outsiders? That was a thing, wasn’t it? You heard about places like that. Trust her to have chosen this particular small village in the Cotswolds above every other place.

Gently pulling the paper casing from the cake, Laura bit into it. It was good. So good. Almost worth going in there again and facing the same cold welcome.

A loud guffaw of laughter caught her attention, and she glanced across the road towards the pub. Jackson was there standing in the doorway chatting to another man, telling jokes by the looks of the other man’s reaction and loud laughter.

So Jackson had settled in okay then and been accepted. He’d only moved in just before Christmas, hadn’t he? Maybe the villagers were quick at accepting newcomers after all then. Maybe she wouldn’t have to withstand the chilly atmosphere for long before the ice would begin to thaw.

Yes, people were just wary. Just like when someone new started at work. People would be eyeing them up, making sure they were a good fit. Things would settle. Besides, it wasn’t as though she had time to socialise at the moment and wouldn’t for the foreseeable future. Once the inn was up and running again and she had a bit of time to join a book club or a craft group or something, then people would get to know her. They would be happy for her to join. She just needed to give them time. That was all.