Sounds of spring invaded the room, a relief after the darkness of his story. It was horrible, all of it. Their friendship starting out so innocently, Eddie beginning to crumble under the pressure of trying to prove himself, the way he’d held on to Jack and blamed him equally, creating something toxic and destructive between them. And yet, she still didn’t understand.
‘Why didn’t you tell your side of the story? Why didn’t you explain to a newspaper, or someone you trusted, what really happened all those years ago?’
Jack turned and leaned against the windowsill. ‘Because I didn’t want to stoop to his level. I didn’t want to bring what would essentially be a playground spat out into the open.’
‘A playground spat? Jack, he spiked your drink! He stole someone’s work, got you to cover for him, then fed all those lies about you to the paper.’
‘But I chose to keep our friendship intact,’ Jack said. ‘I let him back in, and maybe I was partly to blame from the start. Maybe I caused this. His disregard for other people, the drugs, the need to steal Ernest’s work to secure his own future.’
‘How could you be responsible for what Eddie did, for the way he lived his life? Jack …’ She pushed herself up and walked over to him. ‘From what you’ve told me, you have given him too many chances. You tried to rescue him when, the truth is, he doesn’t want to be rescued. The man I met today was cruel. He has caused this pain, and implicated you, deliberately. He’s jealous of you, and he can’t bear to see you do well. You have to stop protecting him.’
‘I will. I have. After what he did to you—’
‘He didn’t hurt me,’ she said quickly.
‘But he did,’ Jack said. ‘Don’t brush it away.’ He ran his fingers through his hair, blinking rapidly, and Abby suddenly saw how vulnerable he was, as if the boy who had first smiled at Eddie Markham in a classroom all those years ago had returned, only to discover that Eddie had never really been his friend at all.
‘Don’t worry about me.’
‘Of course I do,’ he whispered. ‘You’re everything, Abby.’
He kissed her and she pressed herself against him, the spring breeze caressing her through the window as she tried to believe his words, that he wasn’t just reaching out for something positive in the midst of fresh despair.
‘I have to call Leo,’ he said eventually. ‘I have to tell him what’s happened.’
‘Of course. Do you want me to go?’
He shook his head. ‘Stay with me?’
She made more coffee, listening to the cadence of his deep voice through the thin walls of the cottage. The back garden was a riot of spring flowers, of tulips and lupins, a white rose bush, the stems drooping under the weight of its blooms. Bees buzzed, early cabbage whites flittered happily in the still air, and she heard the trill of a warbler in the woodland beyond. Everything outside was peaceful and beautiful, carrying on in a way that made her envious.
When she returned to the living room, Jack was slumped on the sofa, staring at his phone.
‘What did Leo say?’ Abby asked.
Jack didn’t reply immediately. He looked at her apprehensively, and despite the warmth of the day, she felt chilled.
‘What?’ Abby whispered.
‘He’s pissed off,’ Jack said. ‘Understandably.’
‘With Eddie?’
‘And with me. He thinks I should have seen it coming, that I should have protected you, and he’s right. I should have—’
‘What? Stopped me from leaving the house? Come on Jack, how could you have predicted this would be his next move? And isn’t Leo just firing off because he’s panicking? He seemed happy enough last night, unless he was giving you warnings when I wasn’t listening.’
Jack shook his head. ‘He wasn’t. But he thinks I need to face it this time, to stand up to Eddie, and I’ve told him I’m ready to tell my side of the story. I’m just sorry this has led to you being involved. If I hadn’t asked you to come with me last night …’
‘Stop it, Jack.’ She sat next to him and put the steaming mugs on the table. ‘What is the point of if only? We are where we are, and you need to listen to Leo, do everything he says. Promote your book, show everyone the real you, and prove that Eddie’s story is a complete fabrication.’
‘You sound so certain.’
‘And you sound like you’re already defeated. Come on Jack, where’s your fighting spirit?’
He gave her a lopsided smile. ‘My fighting spirit is here. With you.’
‘There you go then,’ Abby said. ‘Let’s see some of it.’
But Jack’s smile faded, taking Abby’s confidence with it. She suddenly felt weighted down by something, a realization that didn’t hit home until Jack confirmed it.
‘Leo says I need to go back to London. That I need to be proactive, speak to Bob Stevens about the Page Turner Foundation, get the interviews started. He says I can’t do that from here, that I have to throw myself back into the spotlight, bulldoze Eddie’s claims with my presence and overwhelm the negative stories with positive ones.’
Abby’s mouth was so dry that she could barely speak. ‘In London,’ she managed.
‘In London.’
‘When?’ It was a whisper.
‘He’s coming up first thing tomorrow, to help me pack.’
‘Tomorrow.’
The room was full of echoes. She couldn’t do anything else but repeat his words and try and make sense of the fact that, after tomorrow, Jack wouldn’t be here anymore.
‘Abby, I don’t want to leave you, but I don’t have a choice.’
She felt the well of emotion, her thoughts whirring, wondering if this return to London was planned all along. If Tessa was right, and he had been using her from the beginning. But then she forced herself to look at him – and couldn’t believe it.
‘I could come,’ she said.
Hope flashed briefly across his face, then disappeared. ‘No, you couldn’t. Your life is here, in Meadowgreen. With Penelope and Rosa, Octavia, Raffle, Meadowsweet. I could never ask that of you.’
‘You don’t want me to come?’
‘You have no idea how much I want you to come, how painful it is that I know you can’t.’
‘I could. I—’ Her words were swallowed up as Jack pulled her against his chest. She pressed her face into the warm fabric of his T-shirt.
‘I should never have let you get dragged into this,’ he said. ‘I should have left you alone after that first day, when you came to berate me for complaining. You were right, too, but I couldn’t help it. Already, I knew I needed to see you again. I invented that rubbish about pheasants damaging my car, I sat at my desk thinking up ways I could get you to come here, or I could come and see you. Even after we’d been for coffee, part of me knew this was just a fantasy, that Peacock Cottage, Meadowgreen – you’re too good