Chapter Sixteen
Ginny
Working on the quilt for Grandad last night had been surreal. Ginny had become absorbed in the task, more than she’d thought she would, as though being together and doing this for a member of the family was all the permission she needed to go back to the one thing she’d adored as a child, a teen and then an adult.
Ginny had loved everything about needlework and quiltinggrowing up but then, seeing Fern make her own way independent of the family business, had triggered something inside of her. Ginny had always been independent too and hadn’t been sure she wanted to take on the shop, and so she’d found midwifery, a joy helping people and a career she had a passion for. It was only when Daisy took on the responsibility of the shop with Loretta that Ginny had realisedshe might well have wanted it deep down. But by then she felt her path had already been set and she’d done what she always did – she didn’t make a fuss, she got on with the choices she’d made. When her mum had asked her where she was travelling to next and then whether she’d consider coming back to Butterbury, Ginny had almost admitted that she would love nothing more. But could it ever happen?Could she really make a life back here now after all this time?
With lunch with Grandad on the agenda today, Ginny had already worked on another quilt block for Ivor’s gift and she decided to get outside for a long walk while she had a chance.
Butterbury held her in its winter embrace as she made her way towards Lantern Square. Frost clung to branches, lined the tops of walls and the odd patchon the pavement, yet something about this village warmed her right through.
She bought a churros from the takeaway cart set up in Lantern Square run by sisters Annie and Ellen. It sold doughnuts too, and the sweet treats scented the air, drawing in customers unable to resist.
Ginny had just taken a big bite of churros when she heard a thick, velvety voice behind her.
‘I hope you dipped thatin chocolate.’ She turned to see Lucas, the collar of his donkey jacket turned up as the wind lifted around them, sending stray leaves scuttling across the concrete paths and onto the green spaces, into the flowerbeds.
She finished her mouthful. ‘Of course.’
He reached out and ran his finger across part of her bottom lip and smiled when he held it up to show her he’d wiped away the tell-talesigns of the sweet treat. Eyes, soft brown like a liquid caramel, refused to look away. ‘You always did like your chocolate.’
She was still frozen in place at the way he’d reached out and touched her as though they still did that sort of thing all the time. ‘Who doesn’t?’ Her voice wasn’t much more than a whisper as she saw him register his over familiarity too and they stepped out of the wayof others queuing. She tried hard to squash down the jittery feeling his touch had given her so unexpectedly, the conjuring up of memories of the heady days when they’d first got together, when even holding hands had ignited a spark that had the power to make her feel dizzy.
He fished in his pockets and pulled out some cash before he joined the back of the queue at the cart. ‘You’ve done it now,I can’t resist. I’d hate you to feel like you had to offer me any of yours.’
‘Not a chance,’ she smiled.
When he joined her and she’d almost finished her churros while he began his, she asked why he wasn’t working today.
‘I am, but this is my break. I started at five this morning.’
‘Wow, that’s early.’
‘It’s not uncommon.’ He bit into his churros and groaned with pleasure. ‘There’s alwayssomething that needs doing. This time it was the heating in the greenhouse – it went on the blink so I was fixing that first thing.’
‘You always were good with your hands.’ She realised she’d voiced that out loud but there was no way to backtrack. ‘You know what I mean.’
He was honourable enough not to make her feel any more uncomfortable than she already did and simply smiled at her remark.And as he talked about the farm and what his days involved, she watched him. At well over six foot Lucas had always been what her mum had called a gentle giant. He’d shot up in high school well before anyone else, something that gave him the ability to see to the ends of the corridors at school over the sea of heads bobbing along and warn when a teacher might be coming their way. The skill had comein handy as a teen too. He and Ginny had gone to Glastonbury one year and he’d been able to see over the heads of the crowd right to the stage, something nobody else in their group had been able to boast about, and as an adult he said it ensured he did his bit for the community because he was frequently asked, when in a shop, to reach items from the highest shelves.
Ginny balled up her napkinand pushed it into the nearest bin, putting her hands straight into her pockets afterwards. ‘Do you think it’ll snow this year?’
He was a much quicker eater than her and when he’d finished his final mouthful he got rid of his napkin in the same way. ‘I hope so. There’s nothing like Butterbury with a covering of snow.’ They’d begun to walk away from the cart, along a pathway in the square, andhe indicated the bench.
‘I think I’ll get too cold if I sit still,’ she told him, although she really didn’t want to say no. She’d avoided him for so long that at times like this she wondered why. There was a familiarity, a warmth that came from being near him, the man she’d thought was in her past and never likely to move back to her present ever again.
‘How about I get us each a hot chocolate?’
She didn’t answer, she didn’t need to, the agreement was unspoken and so she sat down on the bench before anyone else thought to do it first.
Once he’d handed her the hot chocolate and it was clasped between her gloved palms warming them through, she asked him more about the family business and she could sense the passion oozing in his veins when he talked about the physical labour, the organisationof it all, the different produce, growing and harvesting schedules. It was hard to believe this man had ever thought of doing anything else.
‘Do you ever clash as a family?’ She wanted to know more about his life. It was as though somebody somewhere had hit a pause button between them and this year it was begging to be released.
‘We get on well … most of the time.’ His forearms rested on sturdythighs, his cup between his palms. ‘The way I see it is you might not get on with your boss no matter who they are, but when it’s family, you have this obligation to make peace at the end of the day no matter your grievances.’
‘You’re right, but that makes it tough sometimes.’
‘Sure does. I’ll bet Daisy and Loretta clash.’
