Twilight Song. Cressida McLaughlin
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voice caught at the thought that the star attraction had changed his mind. In some ways she wouldn’t blame him, but to leave it to the actual day to cancel was on the callous side.
‘Oh no,’ Octavia said. ‘Jack’s fine, the library’s fine, I’m … I’m … Abby …’ She took a deep breath. ‘There are fifty people coming tonight. Fifty. The most I’ve ever had for one of my author talks is eleven, and that’s only because it was that man up the road who does whittling, and all his cousins were visiting from America to celebrate his publication day.’
‘But that’s brilliant,’ Abby said. ‘How could that be anything other than brilliant?’
‘Because I don’t have enough chairs,’ Octavia whispered. ‘Do you think people will mind sitting on beanbags?’
Abby hesitated, wondering how this experienced woman could get to a point where she had sold tickets for an event without assessing her resources beforehand, and then decided not to be too harsh. Octavia had got carried away, and under the circumstances Abby could understand it. ‘I’ll go and see Ryan at lunchtime,’ she said. ‘I’m sure he’s got a function room somewhere with some stacked chairs. Do you know how many you’re short by?’
‘Sixteen,’ Octavia said, ‘and that’s if more people don’t turn up on speculation.’
‘I’ll sort it out,’ she said, giving Stephan a grateful grin when a cup of hot, milky tea was placed on the reception desk.
‘You’re a darling,’ Octavia said. ‘And Jack will sparkle. Nobody will care what they’re sitting on once he starts speaking.’
Abby waved her neighbour goodbye as she raced towards the car park, and sipped her tea, watching a pair of greenfinches on the feeders while the computer woke up. A few smatterings of spring rain darkened the concrete, though the sun was trying to break through. She would like nothing more than to spend the day out in the fresh air, answering questions and checking the nest boxes were secured, but she had her camping extravaganza to organize. She had submitted a formal proposal to Penelope, but her boss had been underwhelmed, and Abby had been firming up the details ever since.
She had a list of remaining suppliers to get in touch with during quiet moments and, hopefully, by the end of the day almost everything would be ready to slot into the programme she was pulling together.
She issued day passes to a group of older visitors, all of whom had matching blue baseball caps, one of them explaining that their village pub had set up a social club, and that Meadowsweet had been chosen as their next excursion.
Abby listened as they bickered good-naturedly, and then showed them a map of the reserve, pointing out the different habitats and where the star species had been seen recently. Once they were armed with all the information, they moved away from reception to reveal Jonny, looking fresh and spring-like in a red checked shirt and smart jeans.
‘Jonny, how are you?’ Abby asked. ‘Is there anything I can help you with?’
‘Is – uhm, Rosa here?’
Abby hid her smile. ‘She’s got a day off today. Did you want to see the binoculars? She’s ordered in a new, mid-price range that you might be interested in.’
‘Oh sure, thanks.’
She led him over to the Birdseye View section, which was opposite the till, and next to the storeroom and Penelope’s office. The door was ajar, and as she left Jonny perusing what must have been his hundredth pair of binoculars, she went to pull it closed. But the inner door to Penelope’s office was also open, and she could hear her voice, a mixture of hushed and exasperated, as she spoke on the phone.
‘I’m sorry, Mr Philpott, but I need more time. A few more months.’ There was a long pause. ‘No, I can’t. Not at present. We do – yes, we do.’ Another pause. ‘No. That can’t happen. You’re aware of my – yes, indeed. He’s been assisting me in those areas. But there is still time, I assure you.’
Abby hovered, the silence now so long she thought the call must have ended without a goodbye on Penelope’s part, but then she spoke again.
‘There are jobs at stake, not to mention the future of the reserve, the importance of protecting this whole area. This is bigger than you or me, Mr Philpott. No, I do understand, there’s no time for sentimentality. If it has to be the house then so be it, but I am confident that it hasn’t come to that yet. I can show you when – yes, I look forward to seeing you too. Goodbye.’
If it had been an old-fashioned phone, Abby was sure she would have heard the receiver slam into its cradle, but there was simply the small beep of the call ending, and then a sigh and a rustle of fabric as her boss shifted in her chair.
Her heart in her mouth, Abby walked slowly back to reception. Things were as bad as Penelope had suggested, if not worse, and there she’d been, rolling her eyes at having to do a formal event proposal, sneaking off to the top of the woodland trail so she could reply to Jack’s text messages without distractions, daydreaming about him as she refilled the feeders each morning. She felt sick. Her smile when the next visitors arrived was decidedly forced.
The sense of shame stayed with her all day, and to counteract it she threw a new level of determination into organizing her camping event. She stayed at work until after five, feeling guilty even as she closed down the computer and took her jacket from the storeroom.
‘Goodnight, Penelope,’ she said softly to the closed door.
It opened. ‘It’s Jack’s event tonight, isn’t it?’ Penelope looked weary, worry lines creasing her forehead, and Abby wished she could comfort her.
‘You should come,’ she said instead. ‘There’s going to be a big turnout apparently, and I’m sure he’d love to see some friendly faces in the audience.’
Penelope nodded. ‘Maybe I’ll see you there.’
‘OK.’ Abby smiled. ‘That would be great.’
It was still light as she walked home, her pace inevitably slowing as she passed Peacock Cottage. Jack’s texts had become more frequent as the day approached; they were self-deprecating and funny, overplaying his nerves in a way that she thought hid genuine anxiety. Suddenly, even thinking about him felt like a betrayal. Abby couldn’t let her mind wander anymore. She would go to the library event and support Jack, and then she would give a hundred per cent to the reserve. She would never forgive herself if it closed down with her knowing she could have done more to save it.
She arrived at the library at half past six, and it was already fuller than she had ever seen it. Ryan had come through, and there were rows of chairs set up theatre-style facing away from the main doors. Not all of them matched, some certainly looked like they had seen better days and, recently, quite a bit of woodworm – Abby hoped they wouldn’t collapse under anyone. At the front was a low, unassuming stage, which was where Octavia usually kept her displays of new releases. For tonight, it had been cleared, and there was a table with a jug of water and a glass, and one of the library’s most comfortable fabric chairs waiting to be occupied.
Abby glanced at the people already assembled. She recognized a few faces from the village, and Helen Savoury was there, flicking through a copy of one of Jack’s books, silver-rimmed glasses on her nose. Abby tried not to let panic consume her at the councillor’s presence, and looked around for a friendly face, but instead found the perfectly groomed locks of Flick Hunter. She was two seats away from Helen Savoury, her gaze going frequently to the side of the room, and Abby wondered whether Jack had invited her, or if she had discovered the event in the local press like everyone else. He hadn’t mentioned her recently, and Abby had allowed her jealousy at seeing them together to dissipate, so it was a shock to find her in the audience.
Even more now she needed to see someone she knew, and she homed in on Rosa and her corkscrew curls, sitting three rows from the front.
‘Rosa, how are you?’
Rosa stood and gave her a hug. ‘I’m