Wild Wood (33 page)

Fred beams. “Let me know how you get on. Remember, this is just the beginning: you’ve made a start.” He says that as if she’s been awarded a prize.

Jesse finds the muscles that make a smile. “With your help.” A beginning. It’s true.

On her way back to the square, Jesse finds the little Madonna and her baby again. She lights a taper and kneels at the altar rail.

Let me find her. Please. Just let me find my mother.

She knows that praying’s a relic of childhood habit. She knows it’s idolatrous too—beseeching a statue for help—but Jesse still opens her heart to that kind woman. And hopes.

The Hunt is busier than yesterday when Jesse finds her way inside.

Rachel’s hurrying from table to table, past another girl who’s working today as well: a teenager with the startled pink eyes of a rabbit.

Mack whirls past with a wave. “Table won’t be long.”

Jesse calls out, “Thanks!” The people, the food, the noise, it’s all cheery, all so alive, so
normal
. Normal is good today. And comforting.

“This way, Miss Marley.” Rachel leads her to a table for two. She offers menus. “Anyone joining you?”

“No, it’s just me.” Jesse feels as if everyone’s staring. Afternoon at the Hunt is a coupled world, and people seem to know each other, companionably leaning between tables to catch up on gossip.

“Thanks, Rachel.” Mack appears behind the girl’s shoulder.

“Sure.” The waitress gets the hint.

“May I?” Mack taps the back of a chair as the waitress plunges back into the scrum.

“Of course.” Jesse’s mood lifts. “But you’re very busy.”
Let him sit. He wants to!

Mack grins. “Always. Wasn’t expecting to see you quite so soon.”

“No.” Jesse fiddles with the menu as he slides into the seat.

“So, what brings you to town?”

She’s grateful he doesn’t ask about Rory or Alicia. “Oh, you know. A bit of sightseeing. I met Fred Stewart, by the way.”

“He qualifies. Definitely. Should be declared a national monument, Grade I listed.”

Mack’s got good teeth when he smiles. Jesse likes that—it’s unusual enough to notice in Britain. “He’s nice. He showed me some of the parish records for St. Michael’s. It was a long shot, but we looked up my mum’s name.”

“Any luck?”

Jesse shakes her head. “He’s given me a lead, though. Someone he knew who worked at Holly House at about the right time; that’s where I was born. She lives in a nursing home now, so I’m going to visit her.”

“In Jedburgh, right?”

“Yes. I guess I can catch a bus.”

“Tell you what. I’ve got a day off due, how about I take you when you’re ready?”

“Wow. Really?”

He leans across the table. “Do you a deal.”

Jesse finds she’s grinning too. “What are the terms?” Close up, the eyes are a shock. So dark, the pupils cancel out.

“And here’s me thinking all Australians are risk-takers.”

“But I’m not Australian.” A twinge of disloyalty.

“Ah, yes. You said that.” He’s looking at her expectantly.

Jesse rallies. “What have I got to give to get?”

“Eat lunch. On the house. A proper meal. You need to build your strength.”

He has the wrong idea, plainly. “Actually, I like eating.” She smiles nicely. “Sold to the girl in the very old jeans. With thanks.”

He says amiably, “I didn’t notice. Not the jeans.”

The brief silence is filled with noise, voices, the clatter of cutlery, and Jesse doesn’t know what to say.

Mack taps the menu. “Let Rachel know what you’d like. The Eccles cakes are good today. Personal recommendation.”

Eccles cakes. It seems like a sign, an approval of some kind; as he gets up, Jesse says hastily, “Just one thing, Mack.” There are so many things she wants to ask, such as
What
is
it with Rory?

“Yes?”

It’s not easy matching his glance. She temporizes. “Um, Helen. Is she around?” Maybe she’s on a hiding to nothing asking Mack’s mum for information again, but that strange moment yesterday could have been a misunderstanding.

Or not.

“I’ll find her.”

Jesse says hastily, “No rush. Truly don’t want to get in anyone’s way.”

“Impossible.” That smile again.

Jesse would like to pretend the menu takes all her attention, but her glance strays at least three times over the top of the card. She’s watching Mack as he winds through the dining room, chatting, pouring drinks, clearing tables where he can.

Is it the streak of white hair? No. It’s the eyes. Definitely the eyes. He catches her looking his way. He smiles and she blushes. Then it happens again, though this time she catches him looking at her.

Mack’s not the only one taking an interest. As she dawdles over the Eccles cake, Jesse brushes the back of her head; it feels like an insect’s caught in her hair. When it happens again, she checks over her shoulder.

A man is sitting at a table directly behind her, almost within touching distance. Somewhere over sixty, the spare frame and the deep-sunk eyes speak of suffering and will, but an interested glance swings Jesse’s way. “Hello there. Have we met?”

She turns a little more in her chair. “I don’t think so. I’m a visitor. Jesse Marley is my name.”

“Australian?”

“Well spotted.” She doesn’t mean to get into explanations.

“Alistair Nicholls, physician.” He half rises. “Don’t let me interrupt.” He waves at the last of the cake. His smile is attractive and brings warmth to those mournful eyes.

“I’ve eaten too much already.”

“May I offer you a cup of coffee?”

Jesse’s slightly startled. “That’s very kind. Tea, I think.”

“Very wise.” He swivels in his seat and beckons the other waitress. “Another pot of tea please, Jewel.”

Jesse tries not to stare, but the rabbit analogy from earlier is inescapable—something about the nose, never mind the eyes. And the girl walks with a lollop. Definitely.
Stop that!

The doctor winks. “And I’ll have what this young lady’s having.”

“Eccles cake.” Jewel scribbles diligently, but as she turns to go, the doctor beckons her back and murmurs, “Did you not take all the antibiotic I prescribed?” Jewel half answers as she leaves, a mutter Jesse can’t quite understand.

The doctor sighs. “Conjunctivitis.”

“That’s contagious, isn’t it?” Jesse’s alarmed.

“It shouldn’t be if she’s taken all of the course, but . . .” He shakes his head. “Patients forget. Or they don’t really listen.” Dr.
Nicholls stops himself. “Forgive me. One of the duties of the old is not to be boring. Doctors can be tedious about their work, especially, perhaps, to strangers who are kind enough to listen.” A faint smile.

And there it is again. That sense he’s inspecting her quite closely.

Jewel arrives with a tray, and Dr. Nicholls captures the teapot as a cup clatters down. “Shall I pour?”

Jesse sends Mack a silent prayer:
Rescue. Help!
“Um, thanks. Do you practice locally, Dr., er . . .” She’s forgotten his name.

“Nicholls. Yes. For many years, though originally I had rooms in Edinburgh.”

Jesse struggles. “It must have been something of a contrast. There, I mean, and, er, here.” She’s properly trapped.

“Ah, yes. But babies, you see, have been a constant in both places. Tell me about yourself, Miss Marley.” Dr. Nicholls nudges her cup across his table and pours one for himself.

“Oh. Well, not so much to tell.” She sips the tea.

“On holiday?”

“No. It’s beautiful here, though; that’s like a vacation.” Inside Jesse’s cringing. She
so
hates useless chat.

“A refreshment to the soul, I always think. Beauty. And it must be so different from your home.” His eyes crease encouragingly.

Jesse puts the cup down. “Actually I was born in Jedburgh.”

His looks interested. “Is that so?”

She nods. “I’m adopted. I found that out just recently. It’s why I’m here.”

Something has changed. They’re engaged with each other.

“Perhaps I can help. We’re a close community here.”

“You’re the third person who’s told me that.” Jesse smiles, but it occurs to her that Dr. Nicholls is just the slightest bit nosy. “I’ve only just begun to look.”

“Is everything to your satisfaction, Doctor?”

Jesse turns in her chair.

Helen Brandon is standing behind the table. “Miss Marley, lovely to see you again. So soon.”

“Hello, Mrs. Brandon.”
So, no first names.

“A moment of delightful respite, Helen. As it always is, coming here.”

Rory’s mother goes to say something and hesitates. “On your way out, if you have a minute, Doctor? Just a quick question.”

Alistair Nicholls nods. “Of course.”

“Miss Marley.” Helen’s smile is perfunctory as she walks back to the till.

That’s that, then.
No way Jesse is going to ask Helen anything. Not now.

Alistair pats his jacket, searching a pocket to find a slightly scuffed card. “If I can help you in any way, the number’s here. Good luck with your search.” He stands with a courteous smile.

“Thank you.” She accepts the card and watches as he pays Helen and they talk.

“Excellent result.”

Jesse jumps in her seat and tea spills on the front of her shirt.

Mack grabs a table napkin.

Jesse takes it from him. “It’s okay. Really. The pattern’s very forgiving.” She mops her chest.

“Look, can we start this again? I promise never to hit you or spill things on you, so if you’ll just wipe your memory tapes, we can—”

“You blush like me! I’ve never seen that. In a man, I mean.” Jesse feels quite bold.

“Fair call. Right.” Mack holds out his hand. “My name’s Mack. Pleased to meet you.”

“Me too. Call me Jesse.” She offers her left hand and he takes it awkwardly. They laugh.

His grasp is warm. “Give me a call when you’re ready to go to Jedburgh, Jesse.”

“I will. Thank you.”

“My pleasure.”

He still has her hand. Jesse takes it back. She stands and he jumps to help.

“It’s okay. My arm’s the problem, not my legs.”

He can’t help glancing down. And says absently, “No.”

That makes Jesse laugh out loud. So loud, Helen looks up.

She knows Helen’s watching as she strides from the dining room. And Mack is too. She can feel it.

The Saab starts reluctantly, and something about that unwillingness punctures Jesse’s mood.

She’s in no hurry to face Alicia because it all feels so outstandingly awkward; as if she’s just busted up with a flatmate and all that’s left is to pack and make a dignified exit, hoping she can get through the door without a screaming match.

Time’s come. Walk away. Think about Hundredfield from a distance, when she’s staying somewhere less fraught. Less odd. Less, to be honest, scary.

There’ll be a hostel in Jedburgh. Maybe she can take Mack up on his offer of a lift sooner than he thinks. If Rory wants to keep going with the research, he can come to her there.

Helen Brandon’s face swims up from somewhere. “So, how would you feel about your baby boy taking me to Jedburgh, Helen?” A bitchy little laugh.

But it’s hard not to be hurt when people don’t like you and there isn’t any reason.

Except a good-looking son. Two good-looking sons—though Rory doesn’t count (that’s not remotely the way things are between her and him).

Mack, though—a
dmit it—Mack
could be different. And then Helen might really have something to worry about.

Yes, Jesse’s looking forward to seeing Mack again, one-on-one. No mum, no pub, no brother. Awkward, though, when such a good-looking bloke’s playing piggy in the middle and he has no clue. Not yet.

Jesse’s not about to tell him, either.

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