Nineteen
Jemma’s day had gone from bad to apocalyptic. Her world had come crashing down around her with just one phone call. There was only one thing to do right now. And that was get drunk. Very, very drunk. So drunk that she wouldn’t think of Greg bloody Bishop.
But even that was a disaster. She had gone all the way to the nearest supermarket in Folkestone and had stocked up on wine, and wine, and more wine, plus some crisps, ice cream, and chocolate. Basically all the essentials for a broken heart.
As she lifted the bags from the boot of her car, the one containing the bottles of wine, split, and all three fell to the pavement and smashed outside of Oak View Cottage. All. Three!
‘Hey! Are you okay?’ a female voice called out.
Jemma burst into tears.
A comforting arm landed on her shoulder and the woman pulled her in for a gentle hug. Jemma had no idea who this woman was, but right now, she didn’t really care.
‘I’m sorry,’ Jemma sobbed on the woman’s shoulder. ‘I don’t usually burst into tears. I … I’m just tired, I think. And … and possibly unwell, or something.’
‘Well. Looking on the bright side, at least you’re not going to have a hangover. Is this about a man?’
Jemma pulled away in surprise and met a pair of friendly eyes, above an even friendlier smile.
‘No! Maybe. Yes. How … how did you know?’
The woman nodded her head to the shopping bags which were all now sitting wide open on the pavement, Jemma having dropped the others in despair after the wine bottles smashed.
‘All the ingredients required to mend a broken heart,’ the woman said. ‘Ice cream, crisps, chocolate. And, of course, wine. Not a vegetable in sight. Unless the man who hurt you is nearby.’
A snigger escaped from Jemma’s lips. ‘He’s not a vegetable. He’s a … pig.’
‘Pigs are nice. And intelligent.’ The woman smiled at her. ‘You may want to rethink that. Most men are turnips in my experience. I’m Hanna. Hanna Shaw. I live just down the road in Catkin Cottage. Why don’t you come with me and sit down while I get a broom and clear up this mess. I have wine. I was on my way out, but I’ll make a quick call, and we can have a chat. Are you the woman who’s renting Oak View Cottage?’
Jemma nodded. ‘Yes. I’m Jemma. Jemma Granger.’ She was feeling a little less miserable already.
‘Ah,’ Hanna said. ‘The famous author. I thought you looked familiar. I’m a fan. Not the type who will stalk you, or even ask you for signed copies of every one of your books, you understand, because I don’t collect them, but I do enjoy them. I wouldn’t kick Ambrose Fitzglover out of my bed, let me tell you. Although I do think the guy who plays him in the TV series is a bit … wimpish compared to the lusty, oak of a man in your books.’
‘I agree! The actor is handsome enough. But he doesn’t have that commanding presence I hope comes across in the books.’
‘Oh it does! And in the chapter when he gives Miss Jane Goodbody that ultimatum, and looks her up and down oh so slowly with that curved smile on his face and that hint of devilment in his eyes – Oh. My. God. If I had been in her shoes I would’ve been screaming, Take me now. Throw me across your desk and do your worst. And then do it again because I just know you’re gonna be the best sex I’ve ever had.’
Jemma laughed. ‘Me too. Ambrose is my favourite of Esmeralda’s sons. He thinks he’s invincible and no woman will ever tame him.’
‘He’s wrong though, isn’t he? I know you can’t give anything away, but he does meet his match, doesn’t he? He will find a woman he’d die for, won’t he? I mean, I don’t want him to die, but figuratively speaking, he will find someone he’d be willing to give up his life for if he had to.’
Jemma beamed at Hanna and nodded and then a small cloud drifted over her.
‘If I ever get the book written. That’s why I’m here. It should’ve been with my editor last month but for some reason I’m stuck. I think it’s partly because I don’t want to say goodbye to Ambrose. But I know I must. I was hoping the change of scene and some peace and quiet might give me inspiration. And when I saw Betancourt I was so excited and I was longing to get a look around it. But … well. Things haven’t quite worked out the way I was hoping they would.’
‘And the turnip? Is he back where you’ve come from? Or … is he more recent? This village is full of gossip and I did hear that you’ve been seen with a certain someone who lives not a million miles away from here. Sorry. Please don’t get upset again.’
Jemma shook her head. ‘I won’t. I’m a fool and I know it.’
‘We’re all fools where men are concerned. Or in some cases, women. I suppose I should say, where Love is concerned. That covers everyone. Now I’ll get this glass cleared up and we’ll get that wine open.’
‘I’d love that. But you said you were on your way out. Please don’t let me ruin your evening. A drink another time would be something lovely to look forward to if you’re free one evening. I’ll clear this up and then I’ll stuff my face with ice cream and, if you’ll sell me a bottle of your wine, I can get a little drunk. Then I’ll have an early night. Things might look brighter in the morning.’
Hanna smiled. ‘Sounds like a plan. But the forecast for tomorrow is yet more rain, so brightness might be in short supply. You can have a bottle of wine for free. Wait.’ She held a finger in the air. ‘I’ve got an idea. Give me a sec.’ She moved away and made a call.
Jemma indicated that she was going inside to get a broom and Hanna gave her a thumbs up. A few moments later, having left the front door open, Jemma spotted Hanna in the doorway.
‘I’ve got your shopping here. May I come in?’
