Page 101 of An Unholy Affair
‘You can’t just waltz into her life like you’re cock of the walk, sticking your oar in where it’s not wanted—’
Jack pushed off the Aga, fury roaring through his veins. He’d presumed Simon had a crush on Eveline, but this reaction was off the charts. He raised his hands, ticking off each point as he spat it out. ‘Not your life. Not your house. Not your little woman to boss about.’
Simon’s face was puce. ‘And you think she’syours, do you?’
Yes! I fucking do!
The back door slammed, cutting through the silence.
‘Hey, honey!’ Eveline called out in an American accent. ‘I’m home!’
Simon’s eyes bugged out and Jack briefly wondered if this is what his father looked like just before dropping dead of a heart attack.
‘In the kitchen with Simon!’ Jack yelled before she said anything to incriminate herself further.
Another silence, then Eveline opened the door, her face bright red and an over-the-top smile in place.
‘Simon! What a lovely surprise! We missed you at Evensong last night and Matins this morning.’
‘Yes, well—’ He cleared his throat, his eyes flicking to Jack. ‘I thought I’d… I was busy.’
‘I was just about to make you eggs on toast if you were hungry?’ Jack asked Eveline, trying to keep his tone mild.
Her gaze moved uncertainly between the two of them. ‘Thank you, that would be, er, lovely.’ She turned to Simon. ‘Would you like to join us?’
‘Yes, thank you, dear,’ he replied, shooting Jack an oily smile. ‘It will be interesting to see if Nigel’s boy can handle a kitchen as skilfully as me.’
A sudden image of Simon ‘handling’ Eveline slapped Jack in the face and he flinched.
Simon noticed, and his smile became slyer. He pulled a chair out for Eveline. ‘I thought we could spend a few hours going over the church accounts.’
Her dismay was obvious as she sat. ‘Now?’
‘Well, you don’t have any other plans this morning, do you?’
Jack turned his back on them, not wanting her to glance his way and give Simon any ammunition. He broke more eggs into the bowl and beat them with a fork.
‘I was planning on going to Foxbrooke Haven to see how the mural was getting on,’ she replied.
‘No need. I popped over to see mother yesterday afternoon and had a look. Not much progress from what I can see.’
The fork fell from Jack’s grip into the bowl as ancient memories sprung from their graves. He saw himself running out of school with a picture he’d drawn. His pride when his mother stuck it to the fridge. Then the confusion and hurt when his father ripped it off and told him art was for ‘pansies’.
‘Need a hand?’ Simon asked.
Jack shook his head, his eyes tightly closed.I need a fucking drink. The immediacy of the thought shocked him. He took a slow breath in and out.Calm down. Don’t react and make things worse.
‘Do you have any bread left?’ Jack asked Eveline.
‘Yes—’ she began.
‘Cupboard over there,’ Simon interrupted, waving his hand towards it.
Jack glanced at Eveline. Her lips turned down, and she gazed at him with a dejected expression. He wanted to kick Simon out on his arse, but that move would play right into the man’s hands, so he bit his tongue and took the loaf out.
‘So, dear,’ Simon said behind him. ‘I met Jennifer Woodley on the high street and she told me some interesting developments in our plans to get Foxbrooke a “Britain in Bloom” award.’
Jack focused on cooking, trying to tune out Simon’s monologue—the point of which seemed to be to show how interwoven Simon was with Eveline’s life.
