Chapter Twelve

Emily finds out that her sister was not mistaken, and is heartbroken.

CHAPTER TWELVE

My week began with a hectic few days at work. It was 'how the library works' week, and school parties from the local area were making field trips to the Town Hall. The aim was to get the kids interested in reading real books, not just looking stuff up on Google. Both morning and afternoon saw me explaining the Dewey Decimal System, or how we classify and sort the books. Twice before lunch and twice afterwards. I could do it in my sleep.

On the plus side, I was so busy there was little time to worry about Aunt Jen's first chemotherapy session. Nor why I hadn't heard from Daniel Cooper, or what Casey had told me. I did have one annoying little niggle though. Why on earth was Lyndsay Roth, Town Hall manageress, being so friendly towards me? Ever since the cocktail party you'd think I was her BFF.

One lunchtime she beetled towards me before I could duck out of sight. Taking me by the elbow Mrs Roth steered me out of the library towards one of the committee rooms.

“Ms Jackson, you are just the person we need” she informed me. “The YCCS committee are having a lunchtime meeting. I'm sure Jennifer would like you to sit in for her.”

The whole committee were present and eager to begin. Lady Cecilia was chairperson, with her sister Stephanie as acting secretary. Mrs Roth took a seat next to Ellen Pace, the latter looking even thinner than usual. She didn't so much as acknowledge me as I sat down beside Steph.

“How is Jennifer?” Lady Cecilia enquired.

“We've all been to see her” Stephanie added. “Is there any news?”

“Aunt Jen 's at Owl Heights” I told them, “resting after her first chemo. She'll be home tomorrow.”

“She's being so brave” Ellen Pace murmured, in a surprisingly mellow voice. “Jennifer is an example for us all.”

I had never spoken with Ellen before, and always assumed she would have sounded rather nasal. Seems I was wrong.

The proceedings began with Stephanie reading out the minutes of the previous meeting, followed by the business of the day. Arrangements for the YCCS month-long fundraiser were well under way. There was to be a fun run around Yewell Country Park, organised by Sir Dickie himself. Then a craft fayre cum table top sale every weekend for the entire month, held at the Town Hall, and open to everyone in the Yewell Valley. As well as stalls there would be a grand raffle, and a craft-work competition, to be judged on the final day. The fundraiser would culminate in a Gala Ball at Yewell Manor.

Ellen Pace, in charge of publicity, produced draft copies of posters, leaflets and tickets. She had extra copies for me.

“Jennifer will want to see them. She always likes to peruse them first; sometimes she suggests a tweak here or there.“ Mrs Pace addressed the meeting. “I have asked that nice young reporter from the Herald to cover the events in his column. He will also publicise our cause during the run up.”

The mention of Daniel's name made me uneasy, and thoughts flooded unbidden, filling my mind with hope and dismay in equal measure. I pushed them away, put up barriers around my heart.

It had been so much easier visiting her at Owl Heights. The nursing home was a converted teacher training college; apt for a former headmistress. The original facade had been restored but the interior had been redesigned. Only the entrance hall remained the same. A wide staircase led up from a wood-pannelled reception area, which connected two lower-floor corridors. These led to communal rooms, lounges, a dining room and offices, library and TV rooms. A few residents lived downstairs; most were on the upper levels.

Aunt Jen had a nice little room on the top floor. She had a bed, wardrobe and chest of drawers, and a fine view of the walled gardens. Jen had been poorly after the treatment, but as the days passed she felt better, and now she was looking forward to coming home, something I did not think would ever happen again.

I had still not heard from Daniel, but work had been so hectic I'd not checked my phone very often, and the signal was not at it's best in the library. We're not supposed to carry phones on our person during working hours, but Mrs Roth had made an exception in my present situation, so long as I switched it to silent. I supposed Daniel was busy at the Herald, or maybe I was reading too much into our blossoming friendship.

That evening I was at Richmond Street when I heard laughter from across the road. I had just unlocked the front door and stooped to retrieve the bag of groceries I had bought for Aunt Jen's homecoming. A stunning young woman was opening the passenger door of the Lotus and laughing at something her boyfriend had just said., something that Daniel had just said. As the woman got into the car, he placed a suitcase in the boot. Daniel turned and waved, but I could only stand and stare as he got behind the wheel and drove off. My heart sank, the roller-coaster veering dangerously out of control.

“It's true” I realised, “Casey was right. Daniel has a girlfriend.”

I tried to put the thought, the sight, the meaning of it out of my mind. Distractedly I got on with preparing the bungalow, but it was hard to concentrate.

On the way home my phone tinkled, a new message, from Daniel Cooper. I deleted it. Perry Hill seemed steeper than ever, my feet leaden.

I didn't answer any of his texts that evening; I turned off my phone and mooched upstairs to see Dolly.

“At least you found out early, Bella, before you fell for him” was all he said.

Scattered all over his sitting-room floor was a cornucopia of holiday memories. Leaflets from places he visited in Devon, tickets, a serviette. Dolly is big on scrap-booking, has been since we were teenagers. In his wardrobe is a box full of scrapbooks, some of them about us. But I knew never to get him started on the great debate of paste versus glue stick. He's a confirmed paste fan. Sadly even a few hours helping to display Dolly's holiday mementos failed to cheer me up. So reluctantly I retired to my bed, only to drift off into a disturbing dream, where Jen lay dying. Then I dreamed of the evening Daniel and I had spent together after visiting the hospital.

Daniel had suggested a takeaway. So we took advantage of the new Kingswood Mills shopping centre. From the food court we picked KFC. Sitting side by side on my sofa we shared a bucket of fried chicken washed down with a few glasses of cider. When Daniel got up to leave we stood for ages in my tiny hallway. He held both my hands and told me how much he'd enjoyed the evening. Then he said he'd be busy for a few days.

“I'll call you.” He smiled, a captivating, melting smile.

I thanked him for the lift and tilted my head to kiss his cheek, but Daniel moved closer; our lips met in a kiss that lasted only seconds, but seemed like an age. I could still feel his touch after he was gone, the roller-coaster spinning in dizzying circles. Then I woke up, my face moist with tears.

Work was still busy next day. There was new stock to log onto the computer and stack on shelves; old books to be disposed of or sell off for our chosen charity. YCCS, obviously. And it was toddler club afternoon. By the tine I reached home I felt weary, so not in the mood for confrontation.

“Why aren't you answering your phone?” Daniel challenged me as I walked towards my front door. “I've been worried! I thought Jen was worse, or she'd died.”

I did not answer him, but as I opened the door Daniel grabbed my arm.

“What have I done?” he pleaded.

I pulled sharply away, without looking up, spat “leave me alone! Go back to your girlfriend!”