The walls came down after that.
Jack spoke of how abandoned he’d felt when she’d left for London. How angry. How he’d told himself he didn’t care, burying his feelings.
She told him about the loneliness she’d felt after her fiancé left. The regret. The wondering what might have been if she’d stayed in Suffolk.
‘You mean,’ he said quietly, ‘if you’d chosen me over your dreams.’
She nodded. ‘Yes.’
Silence thickened between them. They stood too close. The rain softened. The thunder stopped.
They almost kissed.
Instead, Bridie stepped back, breathless. ‘It’s getting late,’ she said, adding jokingly, ‘If we stay much longer, your tradesmen will be out of a job.’ But she knew it was no joking matter. She was thinking of Hannah and what she’d said –be very careful, Bridie, about doing something you’ll regret, on the rebound.
Jack nodded, disappointment flickering across his face. They changed out of their overalls, suddenly shy.
‘How long until it’s finished?’ she asked. Bridie had seen the dust and debris lying around from the work that had been done already. The place would need a deep clean. She hoped her neighbours in Cobblers Yard were up for another cleaning session. She couldn’t wait to show them what Jack had done to the place.
‘A week,’ he said. ‘I’ll send in cleaners.’
‘My friends were hoping to—’
‘You don’t need them,’ Jack said bluntly. ‘I’ve got cleaners. They’re professionals.’
‘Professionals,’ Bridie repeated.
‘Yes. You’re running a business – right? Or at least that’s your intention – isn’t it?’
‘Yes,’ Bridie said slowly. ‘But they’re my friends, and they were looking forward to—’
‘You can’t be sentimental in business.’
She smiled wryly. ‘Funny. I thought you were being sentimental helping me.’
He didn’t answer.
Outside, the night was calm again.
‘Can I walk you home?’ he asked.
‘I’ll be fine.’
‘I insist.’
She relented. The shops weren’t open. Nobody would see him if he went into Cobblers Yard. Even so, perhaps that wasn’t a good idea. Then she’d offer him coffee, and who knew where that might lead.
Nowhere, she assured herself. Jack was married, and even if things weren’t going well right then, nobody was going to accuse her of breaking up a relationship after what had been done to her. But she knew how rumours could easily get out of hand; she was thinking of the supposedly ghostly presence in the theatre. She realised she’d heard nothing unusual that evening, suggesting that the strange noises had probably been the building’s way of telling her it needed urgent repairs.
As they stepped outside and walked along the quiet promenade, Bridie thought of Oliver. She remembered those times they’d snuck into the run-down theatre as teenagers. It suddenly came to mind that it hadn’t been Jack who had insisted on walking her to the bus stop afterwards – it had been Oliver.
Chapter 45
They walked along the promenade in companionable silence at first, their footsteps echoing softly on the damp pavement. The storm had passed, leaving the air scrubbed clean and sharp with salt. Streetlamps cast pools of amber light, reflected in the dark windows of the cottages and tall townhouses that faced the sea, their curtains drawn, lives quietly continuing behind their closed doors.
Bridie breathed it in. Suffolk at night still had that way of wrapping around her, reminding her she belonged there – even if she wasn’t quite sure whether she would stay.
They cut down a narrow side street between cottages, then emerged onto the high street. Ahead, across the road, was the familiar entrance to Cobblers Yard.
