Twilight Song. Cressida McLaughlin

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      ‘Shit,’ Tessa murmured, and then she was sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of her. ‘I’m sorry, but I worry about you. Out here, just you and Raffle. It seems … lonely, to me.’

      ‘And yet the moment I find someone I like, you warn me off him. You don’t even know him!’

      ‘You’re right, I don’t. But I do know of him, and I can’t help but be concerned about that, can I? Doesn’t he live in London anyway? Surely he’s only here temporarily. You spend so much time saying you can’t deal with a new relationship, that you’re scared about falling for the wrong guy, and then you find this … this—’

      ‘He’s not a violent person. It was a one-off.’

      ‘How do you know Abby? How do you know he won’t turn, and then you’ll just put up with it, like you did with Dad?’

      Anger blossomed in Abby’s chest. ‘I didn’t put up with it! I couldn’t leave, could I? Not like you, disappearing off to university. I had nowhere to go, Tessa! And if they hadn’t divorced, it would have gone on, getting worse and worse with me in the middle, without you there so we could look after each other. Don’t you dare say I put up with it!’

      ‘Sorry, sorry.’ Tessa took both of Abby’s hands in hers. ‘I know I – I wasn’t there. I’m sorry.’ Tears filled her eyes too, and Abby bit her lip, trying not to give into hers.

      ‘Jack isn’t like that,’ Abby whispered. ‘I’m convinced he isn’t.’ She thought back to his words, to him questioning why she could be so sure of him, and yet unsure of herself.

      Tessa sighed. ‘So, you’re going out with him?’

      Abby shook her head. ‘No, we’re just … friends.’

      ‘So, there is something holding you back?’ Tessa’s voice was soft.

      ‘I was hoping to talk to you, to see what you thought before I took it further. Now I know.’

      ‘I just want to protect you. I couldn’t bear it if you got hurt again. Tell me more about him. Tell me what he’s like.’

      Abby pressed her fingers against her lips. She felt numb that she couldn’t, after all, confide in her sister. ‘It’s OK,’ she said. ‘Forget I mentioned him. Tell me about Willow and Daisy, how are they getting on? How’s the pond? Is Willow still frightened of the frogspawn?’

      Tessa stared at her, then wiped elegantly at her cheek and slipped into a familiar, if stilted, monologue about her happy family life.

      Abby tried not to let sadness creep in. She’d been expecting Tessa – who was always so adamant Abby needed some romance in her life – to dispel her fears about Jack and encourage her to take a risk. But instead her sister had warned her against pursuing anything with this violent man, and while Abby knew that was a ridiculous summary of Jack, she couldn’t help but feel that, at least on some levels, it was true.

      Getting involved with Jack Westcoat was a bad idea. Her heart might be clamouring for him, but common sense – and now, as if hammering the nail in the coffin, her big sister – was telling her to stay away.

      They settled into a rhythm that wasn’t quite normal, and Tessa made her excuses and got up to leave just after ten o’clock, giving Abby a sweet-scented hug on the doorstep, and promising to call her in the next few days, their earlier conversation avoided as if it had never happened.

      Abby stood on the doorstop long after she’d driven away. It was cold and misty, the streetlights turned soft-focus by the haze.

      ‘Fancy a quick walk before bed?’ she asked Raffle. ‘Yeah, me too. Come on then.’

      She had something to do that, considering her argument with Tessa, she was even more nervous about than usual.

      She’d last seen Jack two weeks ago, on his birthday, when Octavia, Rosa and Jonny had crashed their badger vigil. Since then there had been flurries of texts, interspersed with the notes that were becoming the highlight of Abby’s days.

      He had continued to deliver them to the reserve, despite her warning that she was never left to read them alone, and now each time they arrived, Abby’s anticipation was mingled with trepidation, because the notes were becoming more and more personal.

      At first she hadn’t believed that he would be happy to lay himself bare in front of an audience, but then she realized he enjoyed it – just as he’d enjoyed their sparring matches all those months ago. She was waiting for one of the almost writtens, for him to slip in something too intimate to be easily explained away. It hadn’t come yet, but it was a close-run thing.

       Dear Abby,

      Bullfinches in the garden today. I still think they’re like robins on drugs, but they are brightening up the place while the daffodils struggle to break through the frozen earth. I’d like to talk more about their finchy peep soon if possible.

       Yours, JW

       Dear Abby,

       The tributaries have been particularly interesting today – throwing up some unexpected things. Hard to balance when you’re peering into their murky depths, I find. What about you?

       Yours, JW

       Dear Abby,

       OP in touch today. Is it normal to be terrified about a library event? I’ve talked on much bigger stages than this one, but Octavia and her chapel library put the fear of God in me (pun intended). Will you be there to hold my hand?

       Yours, JW

      Abby had been lucky that Octavia hadn’t been present for that one, and Rosa had made sympathetic noises when she’d read it over her shoulder.

      It was the latest one, however, which Abby couldn’t stop thinking about, and which was probably part of the reason Penelope had given her a thinly veiled talking to today, as she’d been there when it had arrived at the reserve.

       Dear Abby,

       I’ve been thinking a lot about our badger vigil, and what we missed out on. Are close calls such as ours normal, or is it usually more satisfying than that? It’s been on my mind.

       Yours, JW

      Abby knew he wasn’t talking about the badger, and Penelope wasn’t stupid; Abby was sure it was no coincidence that she had allowed Jack to come into the conversation earlier that day.

      She knew she was treading on thin ground, unable to resist answering Jack’s texts at work, finding herself thinking about him and staring into space when she should have been ordering more membership forms, but she couldn’t stop. She picked up the letter she had written before Tessa arrived, and closed her front door quietly behind her. Jack would still be up, she was sure, and as she approached Peacock Cottage she was rewarded with the welcoming glow through the thin curtains of the living room window.

      She tiptoed quietly up the path, slipped СКАЧАТЬ