Page 26 of Sunset at Embthwaite Farm
“Got it in one,” Anna replied as she followed him into the kitchen. She wasn’t quite sure what to do with herself; Jane was still in the shower, but it wasn’t her place to act as hostess, and so she stood hovering in the doorway, uncertain.
“And how’s this fella?” James asked as he chucked Henry under the chin. The baby gave a screech of joy at seeing his grandfather and held his arms out to be released from the prison of his high chair. James, oblivious, turned away to glance back at Anna. “You’ve been helping Jane out, I gather?”
“You could hold him,” Anna replied, a seeming complete non sequitur, except James clearly didn’t take it that way.
He looked startled for only a moment before he remarked mildly, “Why does that sound as if you’re scolding me?”
“No,” Anna protested quickly, blushing in mortification. What on earth had possessed her to say such a thing? But then she recalled Jane’s blotchy, exhausted face, and she found herself saying, “But you could.”
James gazed at her evenly for a moment, his expression bemused but not annoyed—at least Anna didn’t think it was—and then he said, equably enough, “Yes, I suppose I could. And should.” He turned back to Henry and started, with the confidently competent attitude of a middle-aged male, to unbuckle the straps of the high chair. Except, for whatever reason, he couldn’t quite manage it.
After a few seconds, he turned back to Anna with good-natured exasperation. “I fear I’m revealing my lack of expertise in this area,” he told her wryly, which made her smile.
“These things are torture contraptions,” she reassured him. “Back in the day, I lived in mortal dread of having to fold and unfold my daughters’ double pushchair.”
He laughed at that, a genuine sound of amusement and even joy that made Anna’s heart sing. She forced the feelings back, knowing they weren’t warranted in this situation.And yet…No. She couldn’t think that way. “May I help you?” she asked.
“Please.” He gestured widely towards the high chair and Henry, who had been looking between them both, clearly bemused by the interchange. “By all means.”
Anna started forward, and it wasn’t until she had reached for Henry’s straps that she became, quite suddenly, conscious of James Adams’s nearness, and in particular, the smell of his cologne. It was citrusy and fresh, so different from Peter’s smell of soap and cow, back when they’d been married. And truth be told, she hadn’t been close enough to any man to smell him since.
At this thought, her fingers fumbled with the straps, and she found herself bumbling as much as James had been, which made him laugh softly.
“Is this too much for us, do you think?” he asked, his mouth close enough so his breath tickled her ear, creating an absurd sense of intimacy that made Anna only fumble all the more. Henry, growing impatient, let out an ear-splitting screech.
“Sorry…” she said, a bit breathlessly, unsure if she was speaking to Henry or James. Maybe both.
Finally, the buckle came free and with an audible sigh of relief, she lifted Henry from his high chair. Thank goodness. “There we are,” she said cheerfully, and then, with just ahintof a knowing gleam in her eye, she thrust Henry in all his chubby, sticky glory, his mouth rimmed with gloopy rusk, towards James, who took him with a startled oof, and then a wry smile.
“Here we are,” he agreed, and then to Anna’s surprise, he blew a raspberry on the baby’s tummy. “Hello, my little chum,” he said, and with another squeal, Henry grabbed both of James’s ears and tugged hard. “Ouch,” he said wryly, as he sought to extricate himself, and Anna laughed.
“Dad.” Jane sounded shocked, thrilled, and slightly scandalised all at once as she came into the kitchen.
For a reason she couldn’t quite fathom, Anna took a step back from James and the baby, as if to distance herself from them.
Jane came forward, dressed in pyjamas, her damp hair knotted on top of her head. She had her arms outstretched for Henry. “Let me take him off you.”
“Not so fast,” James replied, dancing nimbly away from his daughter. “I’m enjoying this.” He gave Anna a humorous glance that she saw his daughter definitely noticed, frowning slightly.
“Do you know each other?” Jane asked.
Once more Anna and James exchanged looks and then he replied easily enough, “Not quite.”
“Not quite?” Jane replied, glancing between them both, the frown deepening between her brows.
Uh-oh. Anna suddenly had the crystal-clear sense that Jane would most definitelynotapprove of any kind of friendship between her father and her neighbour. She’d likely been the sole object of her father’s attention for what—? Fifteen years?
Then, as quickly as Anna had had these thoughts, she told herself they were ridiculous. She and James had done nothing but have a tiny bit of chat. They did not know each other atall. Why on earth was she thinking like this?
“We saw each other at a quiz evening,” James replied, glancing at Anna as if in query. She gave a little nod. She was definitelynotgoing to mention Tesco. Ever.
“Yes, I’m afraid your dad’s team trounced mine,” she replied lightly. “But he did give me some help.”
“It sounds like there’s a story there,” Jane replied as she took Henry from her father and clutched him to her. She did not sound all that pleased about that observation.
“No, no story,” James replied, but something in his tone made the wordsnot yetappear in Anna’s mind like invisible thought bubbles. She really needed to get a hold of herself.
“Okay, well…” Jane glanced at Anna, and she realised this was, most definitely, her cue to leave.
