What Would Jane Austen Do?, page 27
‘What?’ Maddy mouthed. Confused, she looked around in time to see Luke slipping out of the marquee, his task completed. No, no, no! Why would he leave now after what she’d just heard? The feeling of euphoria instantly evaporated, replaced by confusion and a desperate urge to run after him, but the next speaker was already on their feet and making their way to the front, smiling nervously. There was no point in running after him. The message from Luke now seemed loud and clear: sorry and goodbye.
Maddy forced a reciprocal smile on her face, but her voice sounded devoid of its earlier cheer as she made her introductions for the next speaker. She slipped back into her seat, pinching her lips and keeping her eyes cast downward. She was barely hearing the talk, her mind totally submerged in her own private misery, her effort diverted into not letting tears spill down her cheeks. She therefore jumped as a firm hand gripped her shoulder. ‘Why are you just sitting here? Go after him!’ Myra whispered hoarsely. She tugged the programme from Maddy’s hands and gave her a shove. ‘I can look after all this.’
Maddy wondered why she wanted to embarrass herself chasing after someone who didn’t want to stay. The need to speak to Luke was too strong though, and disobeying Myra was rarely a good idea.
The cool fresh air was a welcome relief from the stuffy cocoon inside the marquee. Feeling energised, Maddy raced across the lawn and round to the front of the house where the cars were parked on the gravelled driveway. She couldn’t see him but Maddy called out anyway. ‘Luke! Are you here?’
A large grassy area at the front of the property had also been designated for parking and Maddy ran between the cars, looking for a familiar red hatchback. Right at the end of the penultimate row she spotted it, parked in the shade of the overhanging beech trees; the windows were all left open a couple of inches and the windscreen was covered with a sunshade. He was still here then, but where? Maddy ran back towards the gardens, checking the house and the hospitality tent along the way. There were a couple of visitors wandering the grounds, taking in the late summer sunshine, and a small crowd in the rose garden gazebo were perusing the bunting-festooned book stall.
‘Has anyone seen Cameron Massey?’ There was a general shaking of heads. Her shoes were a hindrance on the springy grass and she kicked them off and carried them as she ran through the formal planted area and on to the wildflower garden at the edge of the property. She cupped her hands around her mouth as she called out, ‘Cameron! Luke!’ The only responses were the amplified voice from the marquee, a burst of laughter from somewhere, the slam of a car door and the distant bark of a dog. Another reminder of another loss.
Maddy sighed despondently. She had duties to perform and ought to be back in the marquee. The second bark seemed louder though and she spun round, trying to identify the source. There was no dog in the grounds, but the wooden gate wasn’t bolted. She stared across the fields, not daring to believe what she was seeing, then let out a jubilant shriek as Buster galloped towards her, ears flapping and tail wagging furiously.
‘Buster!’ She dropped to her knees in the long grass and Buster ran into her open arms, licking her hands and face, clearly overjoyed at this reunion. The feeling was mutual and Maddy hugged his wriggling body. ‘I have missed you so much, you darling dog—where’ve you been!’
‘He’s missed you too,’ said a familiar voice. Maddy looked up to see Luke approaching with Buster’s lead in his hand, smiling down at her. ‘He needed a walk. That’s why I hurried off.’
‘You mean… You weren’t leaving then?’
‘Of course not. That is’—his eyes suddenly clouded with uncertainty—‘unless you’d prefer me to?’
‘No! No, I wouldn’t.’
Something between a choke and a sob caught in her throat and she took several sharp intakes of breath to calm herself. Luke’s hand was warm and comforting as he helped her to her feet; she kept tight hold of it, not wanting to let him slip away again. They both spoke at the same time.
‘Maddy, I owe you an—’
‘Luke, I’m so sorry—’
They paused. Luke squeezed her hand. ‘You first.’ He pulled Maddy gently towards him and slipped his arms around her. ‘No, I’ve changed my mind—me first.’ He kissed her gently, then a long lingering kiss that made Maddy’s insides flip over and her knees sag. It was as if the world had pressed pause for a few seconds, and they stood melded together, as the grass and wildflowers brushed lazily against her bare legs.
The well of tears that she had tried to hold back flooded down her face as she tightened her grip. ‘I never meant to offend you. Or embarrass you. I only wanted to—’
Luke placed his finger on her lips and kissed away her tears. ‘I know. It was my stubborn pride that wouldn’t allow me to admit that. I felt guilty about what happened all those years ago, even though it wasn’t entirely my fault.’
‘None of it was your fault,’ Maddy protested.
Luke smiled. ‘I admire your loyalty but people have to take responsibility for their actions. I should have made it clearer to Clara at the outset what I wanted. Or didn’t. Lessons for the future.’
They strolled back in the direction of the marquee, their arms wrapped around each other. The million questions could wait, but there was one thing Maddy was dying to ask.
‘Luke, can I ask … what changed your mind?’
Luke smiled. ‘I suspect you already know the answer to that, Ms Austen.’
Did she? Right now, her mind was in turmoil.
‘I speak what appears to me the general opinion; and where an opinion is general, it is usually correct.’
‘You’re quoting Jane Austen at me!’ Maddy laughed. ‘Are you feeling okay?’
‘I did have to look that up,’ Luke admitted. ‘Mansfield Park—are you impressed?’
‘Yes, but I have not the pleasure of understanding you, sir. Pray explain.’
Luke smiled. ‘Haven’t you seen the comments on social media?’
‘Not in the last week. I’ve been way too busy for all that.’
‘I admit I was stunned to see how many hundreds of readers agreed with you. It made me realise that maybe I’d kept everything about that part of my life locked away because I was ashamed and angry. Even though you didn’t mention her by name, it would appear there are plenty of people who have a low opinion about what Clara did. There’s been something of a vehement discussion about it in the past few days, particularly on Twitter. Someone called PostmistressJ has been highly vociferous on the matter.’
‘How interesting,’ said Maddy, trying to disguise her amused smile. ‘I must try and catch up.’
‘But first you have a festival that needs your attention.’ Luke gave her a gentle shove.
Maddy grabbed hold of his arm. ‘Only if you promise not to leave. And maybe Buster would prefer to wait in the house.’
Luke pulled her to him again. ‘I promise,’ he murmured softly, before kissing her again. ‘I’ll be sitting in the front row where you can keep an eye on me.’
Chapter Thirty-Four
Think only of the past as its remembrance gives you pleasure
Elizabeth Bennet, Pride and Prejudice
* * *
Maddy had scheduled her talk last. It gave the other speakers time to relax, nip over to the rose garden gazebo to check on sales, or slip away early. She didn’t mind if her audience was diminished; the people she wanted to hear her story were all here. She stood at the front letting her gaze sweep across the front rows taking in her parents almost bursting with proud, happy faces; Alice, who was wearing her companion Jane Austen T-shirt and waving discreetly from her seat; Luke smiling confidently; Libby, sitting next to Leonard and looking effortlessly chic; and the rest of her fellow committee members, all of whom she had come to know and love as both friends and neighbours.
‘Many of you may have been surprised to read that my talk this afternoon is entitled Prejudice and Pride.’ Maddy smiled at her private joke. She had already had this alleged typing error pointed out to her by several people, including the printers of the programme. ‘I hope by the end you might understand why I decided not to plagiarise Jane Austen’s more famous title.’
She waited for the polite laughter to subside before continuing. ‘So let me tell you a little about myself and my family connection to the founder of this literary festival.’
Maddy briefly explained how she had inherited the house from Nigel, how no one had had any idea he was living in the country and the circumstances that had led to him leaving the country, penniless and in disgrace.
‘By the time I was a teenager, the Shaw family’s opinion of Nigel was well established and totally unanimous: Nigel Shaw was persona non grata. Although we didn’t know it at the time, Nigel returned to the UK twenty-five years after he’d left, settling here at Meadowside. I’ve been told that he rarely spoke about his time in America, but after finding tantalising clues to his past, I suddenly wanted to find out more. I freely admit I became a bit obsessed with my quest—’
‘Just a bit!’ quipped Luke, which prompted another round of laughter from the audience.
‘—but I couldn’t have done it without help.’ Maddy pointed as she spoke. ‘Leonard’s vast knowledge of rock music. Dad’s facial recognition skills. The unwavering support of my former lodger. And most of all, the personal recollections of Elizabeth Allen, who has filled in so many of the missing pieces of this puzzle.
‘So let me take you back to the swinging sixties and the arrival of the young Nigel Shaw in California in 1967. He’d been living hand to mouth, bumming around, doing odd jobs for people, when in 1969 he had a chance meeting with Chuck Hardimann, a singer with a struggling, relatively unknown rock group calling themselves The Faultliners. Chuck took the young Brit under his wing, helped him settle, found him a room and gave him work when he could.
‘Over the next couple of years the band’s popularity spread and their friendship deepened. Nigel often went with them on tour acting as a roadie. He was surprisingly practical, good at fixing things and rarely complained, unlike some of the others, so he was popular with the band. When they couldn’t afford to pay him, Chuck gave him personal items as gifts, mostly in the form of books, which Nigel loved even though’—she smiled apologetically—‘they had been rather vandalised.’
Maddy reached into the box beside her and pulled out an example. ‘You probably can’t see this but the pages are full of annotations, random rhymes, lines of verse.’ She flicked through a few of the pages for her audience. ‘Apparently Chuck often wrote down things he needed to remember on whatever came to hand, be it cigarette packets, paper napkins, or paperback books.
‘Over time, The Faultliners became headliners and tensions became inevitable. One such altercation in 1971 reached the papers when one of their roadies died trying to intervene in a fight between band members, over lyrics to what became the band’s biggest hit: “Rock Hard Road”.’ She replaced the book carefully and picked up the faded newspaper article. ‘This cutting was where my quest started. After the death of the roadie, the band agreed to shelve their differences, record the song with the lyrics compiled by lead guitarist Darius Locke, and move on. Sadly though, the argument had caused a fracture that only deepened over time, and over the following years there were changes in the line-up. In 1974, lead singer Chuck Hardimann also left, and shortly afterwards Nigel moved on too.’
Maddy paused for a moment. ‘And that could have been the end of the story, were it not for the untimely death of Chuck Hardimann in 1990 from a drug overdose. When he heard of his death, Nigel felt he’d somehow abandoned the friend who above everyone else, had given him so much support in the early days. Maybe it was an attempt at reconnection, or just to assuage his feelings of remorse, but he started re-reading all the books of poetry and American history that Chuck had given to him, and that was when the thunderbolt moment occurred, because there—in between the pages of a dog-eared poetry book and lost for nearly two decades—were the original lyrics to “Rock Hard Road”, scribbled down by Chuck in his distinctive spidery script.
‘The myths surrounding the lost lyrics had all but been consigned to the annals of music history, but Nigel now realised that with the authentication of Chuck’s handwriting, he was sitting on a potential goldmine. He could sell this book at auction and become famous as the man who discovered the lost lyrics to one of rock music’s enduring songs.
‘And maybe a greedy man might have done just that, but Nigel wasn’t greedy. Far from it – in fact he was the complete opposite,’ Maddy said triumphantly. ‘Applying the Shaw family morals of right and wrong, which had been used to batter his reputation for so many years, he took what was for him the most logical decision. He offered the book for sale to Darius Locke—the person who was credited with the revised lyrics. Nigel guessed correctly that Darius didn’t want to risk the damage to his reputation should the book be sold on the open market, after having pocketed years of royalties which by rights, should have been shared with the band.
‘We don’t know exactly what amount Nigel received—Darius’s then girlfriend was excluded from that conversation—but it clearly enabled Nigel to move back to the UK shortly afterwards and purchase Meadowside. Here in Cotlington, he revived his love of poetry and was content to share his good fortune with the people of Cotlington who welcomed him with open arms.
‘Ladies and gentlemen, members of the Shaw family, it always struck me as strange that the name Nigel Shaw was so beloved in this village but so disparaged within his own family. It was this prejudiced view, created by an earlier generation but upheld by subsequent ones that I wish to dismantle today. I for one am hugely proud and honoured that Nigel entrusted his legacy to me, and long may the Cotlington Literary festival continue at Meadowside.’
A loud cheer erupted from the front row as the applause rang out. Luke was first on his feet doing his amazing fingers-in-mouth whistling thing and punching the air, but everyone else swiftly followed.
Maddy felt almost drunk with elation. It took the best part of a minute before the clapping stopped, and the audience began to file out clutching their programmes, the air filled with excited chatter. Her parents rushed forward to hug her. ‘We’re so proud of you, love, we could burst,’ said her dad.
‘You’ve put the Cotlington Literary Festival firmly on the map,’ said Alice with a huge grin. ‘Your mum and I are off to sample some celebratory homemade gin now!’
The committee dispersed to their allotted areas: Leonard to the book stall in the rose garden gazebo, Sally and Joyce to the car parks, Myra and Jem to the hospitality tent, until there was just Maddy and Luke remaining.
‘So … was it as good as you expected?’ asked Luke.
Maddy let out a sigh of relief. ‘No … it was better! I just hope tomorrow isn’t going to feel like a massive anti-climax.’
Luke’s arms slipped gently round her waist. ‘Not if I can help it,’ he murmured, his eyes twinkling mischievously. ‘That is assuming you don’t mind me hanging around?’
Maddy smiled. Her dad wasn’t the only one who felt like their heart was bursting, and she joyously threw her arms around Luke’s neck. ‘Nobody minds having what is too good for them.’ As if to prove her point, she kissed him. ‘That’s Mansfield Park too.’
Epilogue
14TH FEBRUARY
It's such a happiness when good people get together.
Miss Bates, Emma
* * *
It was a truth universally acknowledged by the residents of Cotlington village that a single person in possession of a large house must be in want of a purpose. As a resident herself, Maddy wholeheartedly agreed.
Maddy’s objective of making Meadowside her permanent residence after her year was up on 14th March was helped in no small measure by the sure and certain knowledge that her cousin Nigel would have approved of all the changes she had made in the last six months.
Unlike the first few weeks when she’d had way too much time on her hands, nowadays she was too busy to reminisce. However, as she sat waiting to be summoned, it felt significant to think back to a year ago, almost to the hour, when she and Luke had met in this pale-green waiting room with its drab grey sofas and nearly dead spider plant that was still clinging to life. What a difference a year had made! Today though, it was her and not him tapping away on her phone, catching up with emails.
‘Oh good grief, look at this, Luke! You’re not going to believe it.’
Maddy passed over her phone and watched as expressions of curiosity, amazement and finally a wry amusement flashed across his face. ‘UpClose magazine want to offer you the position of senior editor, and with a pay rise? Do you think this has anything to do with the fact that you heard last week on the Briony hotline that two of their editors resigned?’
Maddy laughed. ‘Very possibly.’
‘So what will you do? It’s not too late … yet. We don’t go on air for another couple of minutes?’ He gave her a look that was meant to be teasing but Maddy saw the brief flutter of uncertainty in his eyes too.
‘Oh no, it’s way too late for all that. I’m not some journalist of last resort.’
Luke’s arm snaked around her shoulder as he pulled her closer and lowered his mouth to her ear. ‘I’m very pleased to hear it,’ he whispered before kissing her softly on her neck. Maddy’s skin tingled as his warm lips caressed her neck, and she marvelled—not for the first time—at how the man who last year she’d have happily labelled the least romantic of her acquaintance had in the last six months become her own personal Mr Darcy.
She turned her head to gaze at her handsome hero and trailed a finger along his stubbly cheek. ‘And anyway,’ she added cheekily, ‘we all know Buster prefers the peace and quiet.’
