Page 13 of A Summer Wedding at Pennycress Inn
‘Yes, of course.’ Laura grinned as she slid the tray onto the work surface again.
‘Thank you.’ Hurrying towards the glass doors at the back of the dining area, Ellie pulled one open and stepped through quickly before closing it behind her.
Breathing a sigh of relief, she turned back towards the garden, her gaze falling on Murray’s figure sitting on the steps of the decking. The phrase ‘from the frying pan and into the fire’ came to mind. Frozen to the spot she watched him sitting there. What on earth was he doing here?
Shaking herself, she glanced between Miss Cooke chatting to Laura in the kitchen and Murray out here before he twisted around, his eyes landing on her. Too late.
‘Eleanor.’
‘Hi, sorry, can’t stop. I’ve got to…’ She waved her hand quickly in the general direction of the garden below before taking the steps down from the decking two at a time.
‘Hold up.’
Pausing on the bottom step, Ellie looked out across the garden in front of her, her eyes focused on two birds sitting on the branches of the willow. She’d come out here to escape interrogation, and now she was in this situation. Another one she couldn’t control. A situation she was certain could quite easily lead to an awkward conversation at best and a full-on crying session at worst. And she wasn’t about to put herself in that position whilst she had her professional wedding planner hat on and she’d be having to pretend she believed in true love and happy-ever-afters in just a few minutes.
Which she did. She did believe in all that. For some people. For those lucky few whose true love arrived in their lives at the right time. Murray had been her true love. Had always been her true love. But the timing had been wrong. So wrong. For him at least.
She swallowed as a lump formed in her throat. How, after all this time, could his mere presence affect her in this way? She’d had a relationship with Rick since she and Murray had split. A long and serious relationship at that. They’d lived together. So how could Murray’s turning up here, in Meadowfield, their special place, still cause her heart to beat faster, her words to fail her and a knot to form in the pit of her stomach?
Turning slowly to face him, she gripped the handrail of the decking and watched as he walked towards her. The knot in her stomach grew tighter, and feelings she’d long ago thought she’d dealt with came rushing to the surface again. There he was, standing, one hand on the handrail, the other holding a plank of wood, for some reason, and looking at her with those deep brown eyes of his. The deep brown eyes she’d lost herself in time and time again all those years ago. What was she supposed to say to him? What did he want to say to her? How could they possibly untangle years of silence, years of knowing she was second best, she wasn’t worth him staying for?
Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to speak. ‘Sorry, I can’t stop. I need to… check something.’
‘I won’t keep you long.’ Leaning the length of wood against the handrail, he held his hands up, palms forward. ‘I’d just like to clear the air.’
Clear the air? She’d hoped her brush-off yesterday had been enough to demonstrate that dredging up the past wasn’t something she was eager, or willing, to be a part of. What had happened between them was in the past, and that’s where it belonged. Besides, she just didn’t have the emotional energy to unbox and discuss what had happened between them.
‘I’ve got to…’ She waved her hands towards the garden again, hoping to convey the message that she was on her way to do something important. But judging by the look of confusion creeping across his face, she’d fallen somewhere flat. ‘Sorry, I…’
With the muscle in his jaw twitching, Murray glanced in the direction she was violently flailing her arms before catching her eye. ‘I think we should talk. Clear the air now that we’re both living in the same village. And presumably working for the same people.’
There, he’d said it again, clear the air? Ellie took a sharp breath in. The time to ‘clear the air’ had long passed them by. Some nine years previously, in fact. And why was he even here in Meadowfield? That was a question she’d love to discuss with him, but not now.
She clenched and unclenched her hands as the words he’d just uttered sank in. He was working here? The plank of wood… She looked across to a collection of tools, a wooden sawhorse sitting at the bottom of the steps to the side, the grass beneath sprinkled with sawdust and splinters of freshly cut wood. He was the carpenter Laura and Jackson had met yesterday. He was the carpenter repairing the decking here at Pennycress Inn, where she was working too.
Movement from inside the kitchen caught her eyes and she was suddenly all too aware of Miss Cooke’s imposing figure making her way towards the French doors.
‘Can you spare a few minutes?’
Turning her attention back to Murray, Ellie shook her head with more vigour than she currently felt. ‘No, sorry, not right now.’
‘But…’ Murray took a step towards her.
Pausing at the bottom of the decking, Ellie glanced back at him just as the French door creaked open and Miss Cooke peered outside.
‘Ah, Ellie, there you are. I’ve been discussing wedding plans with Laura and have a little query.’ Miss Cooke stepped out onto the decking.
Looking from Murray to Miss Cooke and back again, Ellie floundered before pulling her mobile from her pocket, waving it in the air in front of her before holding it to her ear. Covering the mic with her palm, she spoke quietly. ‘So sorry, important call about the wedding.’
‘Later then.’ Miss Cooke turned and disappeared back inside.
Backing away, Ellie gripped the phone to her ear. What was she even doing? Making up phone calls to extract herself from difficult conversations? She was thirty-three, for goodness’ sake, not some awkward teenager. Plus, she’d had her fair share of awkward conversations over the years, so why did today’s offering feel so incredibly difficult?
Because it involved Murray, that’s why. Give her twenty hours alone in a room with Miss Cooke, and she’d gladly take it if it meant she didn’t have to have a five-minute exchange with Murray.
Dipping her chin to her chest, she quickened her pace as she walked across the garden and into the small car park behind the inn. The only way out was to head home.
With any luck, both Miss Cooke and Murray would have left by the time she returned and the coast would be clear.
