Chestnut Lane

Chestnut Lane

Anna Jacobs

Contents

1. Title Page
2. Chapter One
3. Chapter Two
4. Chapter Three
5. Chapter Four
6. Chapter Five
7. Chapter Six
8. Chapter Seven
9. Chapter Eight
10. Chapter Nine
11. Chapter Ten
12. Chapter Eleven
13. Chapter Twelve
14. Chapter Thirteen
15. Chapter Fourteen
16. Chapter Fifteen
17. Chapter Sixteen
18. Chapter Seventeen
19. Chapter Eighteen
20. Chapter Nineteen
21. Chapter Twenty
22. Epilogue
23. About the Author
24. By Anna Jacobs
25. Copyright

Chapter One

Sophie was strolling through her garden when she saw a man standing under the huge horse chestnut tree that overhung the wall to mesh branches with a similar tree next door. If he’d been facing her way she’d have run, but he had his back to her and didn’t seem at all interested in her house. He was standing on a garden seat, hidden by the mass of leaves, peering over the wall at the house next door.

She stopped dead, wondering what to do. He must have come through the old wooden gate that led next door but it was closed now. Was he hiding from someone or spying on them? Curiosity kept her standing there even though she knew the sensible thing would be to creep quietly back indoors and call for help.

But she wasn’t the sensible type, as her son pointed out regularly. William was still furious that she’d wasted her money on such a large house – not necessary for one person, he insisted regularly – but she loved living there. It wasn’t for the prestige of a Chestnut Lane address, but because the house had spacious rooms and a larger than average garden and that felt good.

Curious, she hid behind a bush. As she watched, the man rubbed a hand to and fro across his forehead as if he was tired and had a headache. He stiffened suddenly and she too heard something from the direction in which he was gazing – men’s lowered voices, meant only for one another to hear. But sounds carried clearly in the still air of an early spring day.

The stranger’s fists clenched, then he stepped off the bench and swung round, his eyes scanning the garden as if looking for somewhere to hide. As he began to limp slowly towards her, his face was revealed, showing recent scarring on one side. She gasped in surprise as she realised who he was: Jez Winter! No doubt about it.

Why was one of the most famous rock stars of her youth creeping round her garden? He didn’t do much performing these days but still had the ability to turn out albums that sold steadily, and when he gave one of his rare concerts, he filled the biggest venues to overflowing. She loved his music and owned all his albums. That hawk-like face was hard to forget and the years hadn’t dimmed its appeal to her or to many other women.

Her gasp made him turn sharply in her direction, so she moved out from behind the bush and stood motionless. She hoped that showed him she meant no harm, but she had no idea what to do next.

As he saw her, his lips mouthed, ‘Oh, hell!’ and he froze, swaying a little, his face so pale it seemed as if his features had been drawn on white paper with a charcoal stick.

From behind the boundary fence one man called, ‘I’m sure he went that way. Let’s go after him. I’m not losing a good story now.’ Footsteps began moving towards them again.

That must be the press, who had been in the news themselves for hounding Winter, trying to get photos of his injuries. Even Sophie, who didn’t pay much attention to the doings of celebrities, knew about that.

It was the way her trespasser’s shoulders slumped that touched her heart and made up her mind. Placing one forefinger on her lips, she beckoned with the other hand.

He stared at her so numbly she had to repeat the gesture before he mouthed, ‘Thanks,’ and moved forward.

She led the way back to the house, walking on the grass instead of the paths, trying not to make any noise. As they got near the kitchen door, she heard a voice call, ‘There’s a gate here!’

Unlocking the rear door, she went quickly inside and waited for Jez to join her before locking the door carefully behind them. She’d had a burglar soon after she moved in the previous year, so she never, ever left an outer door or window unlocked, not even if she was only walking round her own garden. That seemed very sad, but she lived in an upmarket area and she’d accepted the fact that it made her more of a target for burglars.

‘Come through into my sitting room. It looks out onto an internal courtyard, so you’ll be safe from prying eyes there.’

He followed her, limping slightly. ‘I’m grateful.’

She gestured to a chair. ‘Do sit down. You look exhausted.’

‘I am. It’s taking longer to recover than I’d expected. I thought I’d covered my tracks today, but those sods seem to be psychic about sussing out where I’m going.’ He studied her face and said with a wry smile, ‘You recognised me.’

‘Hard not to. I enjoy your music, have done for years. And when you had the accident, it headed the TV news for a few days, as have your visits to hospital for plastic surgery. I didn’t know they’d let you out of hospital after the latest.’

‘They haven’t. I let myself out early this morning, couldn’t face another day penned up in there. Thank goodness this was the last operation. The gutter press had been baying at the door for days and if I hadn’t had a bodyguard outside my room, that fellow presently lurking next door would have got his precious photo of this and earned a fortune at my expense.’ His voice was bitter as he jerked a thumb towards the scarred side of his face.

He stared blindly into the distance for a moment or two then said in a voice that grated with frustration, ‘I’ll pay you well to let me stay here until I can get someone from my security team to pick me up.’

She stiffened. ‘Why should I need paying?’

Silence, then his shoulders moved in the tiniest of shrugs. ‘People usually do.’

‘Well, I’d be ashamed to take money from someone in trouble.’

He looked at her properly then, studying her face as if to peel off the layers of skin and find out what she was really thinking. His expression slowly softened, as if he liked what he saw. ‘Then may I please stay here until someone can come and fetch me? I don’t intend to go back to that hospital, but my security staff will have to set up a temporary refuge while I house-hunt. I suppose it’ll have to be a luxury hotel again because the journos know where my old flat is.’ He sighed. ‘And anyway, I hate that place. It’s where I had the intruder. If I hadn’t had the accident shortly afterwards, I’d have found a new home by now.’

She smiled. ‘You’ve had a bad year.’

‘Tell me about it. That’s why I was looking at the house next door. I lost my last home in the divorce settlement, but that place was more to her taste than mine anyway. Well, one big house is much like another, isn’t it?’

She didn’t comment on his public quarrels and the acrimonious break-up with his second wife. That marriage had lasted less than a year. Although his music was beautiful, his private life hadn’t been anything to boast about.

Sophie, on the other hand, had loved her husband dearly and been desolate when he died. Her two grown-up children still missed their father, she knew. She’d made a satisfying new life for herself because you had to move on; you couldn’t bring them back. And ironically, she was quite well off now, hadn’t needed his insurance money, because she was suddenly wildly successful in her own right. ‘Yes, of course you can stay here until your friends come for you. Is the house next door for sale? It’s been empty for so long, I thought they were going to knock it down and build smaller places. Not many people can afford a huge house with staff quarters these days.’

‘It is for sale. They couldn’t get planning permission to knock it down because it’s a listed building. I thought if I viewed it without the usual circus, if I stayed indoors all the time I was there and only looked out at the gardens, then perhaps no one would notice me and I could get a feel for the place. I got details of houses a day or two ago and sent for some of the keys but told them I’d show myself round.’

Another of those bitter twists to his lips. She ached to see anyone so unhappy, especially someone who’d given her so much pleasure. Best to let him talk it out, she decided.

‘They couldn’t send the keys over fast enough, knowing who I was. Anyway, this morning I took a taxi and went out without a minder, something I’ve not done for years. It was no good, though. Those pests must have had people watching the entrance to the hospital delivery area, where I sneaked out, or else someone tipped them off. I didn’t even get inside the house. They turned up just after my taxi left. Luckily I saw them before they saw me, but I must have made too much noise getting away from them or left tracks. That garden’s badly overgrown.’

He closed his eyes for a moment, muttering, ‘I wish to hell they’d leave me alone.’

‘It must be hard living in the limelight all the time.’

‘You’d think I’d be used to it by now, but as you get older you crave a bit of peace.’

He still looked as wary as a cornered animal, she thought. Well, that’s what he was, really. ‘Would you like a coffee while you’re waiting? I was just going to make some. And I have some home-made cake.’

He looked faintly surprised, then nodded. ‘I would, actually. If it’s not too much trouble.’

‘No trouble at all.’

There was a knock on the front door and he stiffened again.

She got up. ‘Better if I answer it, don’t you think? It’d look strange not to.’ She laid one hand on his shoulder as she passed him, could feel the tension there. ‘Don’t worry. I won’t give you away.’

When she opened the door, she found three men waiting, one with a camera at the ready. ‘Can I help you?’

‘Did anyone come to your door?’

‘No, but I did wonder if I heard a noise down that side of the house a few minutes ago.’ She pointed. ‘I thought it was a fox after the birds. I have a feeder out there and—’

Two of them ran off in that direction without a word. Only the third one bothered to toss her a quick ‘Thanks’, before pounding after his colleagues.

Nasty creatures! she thought as she locked the door again. She turned to see her visitor standing in the doorway of her living room.

‘I’m grateful.’

‘You’re welcome. Now, coffee and cake. I’ll bring it through.’

When she carried the tray in, he was slumped in a chair, one hand covering his eyes.

‘Here you are.’

He mustn’t have heard her coming because he jumped in shock, then tried to smile.

‘Don’t,’ she told him gently.

‘Don’t what?’

‘Force a smile. And you needn’t chat at all if you don’t want to. Just sit there quietly and rest. You can test the cake for me and give me your honest opinion. It’s a new skill of mine, baking. I always used to worry about being too big, but now I’ve given up on trying to look like a stick insect. My genes aren’t programmed for it, anyway. I concentrate on enjoying life – though that doesn’t mean I eat a ton of junk food.’

‘That’s the first time I’ve heard a woman say that.’

She grinned. ‘I can’t tell you how comfortable it is to eat what you want. And I’ve not put any weight on. This seems to be my natural size and it’s comfortable to live with, even if it doesn’t suit the fashionistas.’ She poured his coffee, gave him a piece of cake then cut one for herself, looking out at the small water garden in the central courtyard as she ate, not attempting to make conversation.

After a while he put down the mug and empty plate. ‘Thank you. That’s the first food I’ve enjoyed for a long time.’

‘Good. It’s the first almond cake I’ve ever made. It’s hard to find recipes without wheat in them. I’m wheat-intolerant, you see.’

‘Coeliac?’

‘Worse. I seem to be intolerant of all cereals except rice.’

‘Must be a nuisance.’

‘Sometimes. But far worse things than that can happen to a person.’

‘Well, the cake’s delicious, whatever’s in it. Um, would you mind if I—’ He broke off. ‘No, I shouldn’t ask.’

‘Go ahead. I can always say no.’

‘Could I stay here for a bit longer, please? It’s so peaceful. And you’re the first person I’ve met in a long time who doesn’t try to fill the silences with babble or pester me with questions about how I’m feeling.’

‘I enjoy silence.’

‘So do I. Which may sound strange coming from a muso.’

‘I don’t think so. We all need peaceful times in our lives. I love your music, by the way.’ She waved one hand towards her CD collection. ‘I have all your albums. Such beautiful melodies. “Tears May Fall” is my favourite track.’

This time his smile was unforced. ‘It’s one of mine, too.’

‘Stay as long as you like.’ She stood up. ‘I’ll be in my office. When you want some company, come and find me. There’s no hurry. I’m at the far end of the corridor. I’m only working on correspondence today, so I can stop and start at will. Oh, and the cloakroom is on the left.’

It was a full hour before she heard movement, first the sound of him limping along the corridor then water flushing in the cloakroom. After that the footsteps came towards her office, so she turned to greet him.

He stood framed in the doorway, still looking utterly exhausted. ‘I’ve just realised I don’t even know your name. I do apologise. It was very rude of me not to ask.’

‘Sophie.’

‘No second name?’

‘Sophie Carr.’

He frowned. ‘That sounds vaguely familiar.’

She picked up one of her books and handed it to him in silence.

‘You’re a novelist.’

‘Yes.’

‘I’ve not read a novel for ages. I must buy a copy of this. Unless it’s full of angst and violence. I couldn’t stand that at the moment, I’m afraid, however well written.’

She wasn’t surprised. A deranged intruder had broken into his home and held a knife to his throat, then a month later he’d been involved in a car accident, which had badly damaged his left side. ‘You’re quite safe with my books. I write relationships novels. Women’s fiction, they call it sometimes, though men read my stories too and email to tell me they’ve enjoyed them. And the stories always, always have happy endings, because it’s my choice for the hero and heroine to get together.’

His expression was bleak. ‘It’s a nice fantasy – that relationships can be happy, I mean.’

‘My parents were happily married for fifty-nine years. Where’s the fantasy in that?’

‘Sorry. Didn’t mean to sound so negative. But you must admit that’s unusual these days.’