Lazy Days At The Farm On Muddypuddle Lane (The Farm on Muddypuddle Lane #7)

CHAPTER ONE

Table booked at a suitably posh and expensive restaurant? Tick.

Taxi ordered? Tick.

Ring safely in pocket? Tick

Ashton shuffled nervously from foot to foot as he checked his appearance in the hall mirror. As usual, his hair was sticking up at the front and he smoothed it down. It immediately sprang back up. He was overdue a haircut, but he’d forgotten to go to the barber. He hadn’t forgotten to buy a new shirt for the occasion, though. He’d debated whether he should wear a suit but decided against it – he didn’t wear one if he could avoid it.

A car horn alerted him that his taxi had arrived. Checking yet again that the ring was in his pocket, he grabbed his keys and hurried out the door.

‘The Wild Side in Picklewick please, but can we pick someone up on the way?’ Ashton asked.

After giving the driver Lacey’s address, he settled back in his seat and tried to relax. His leg jerked nervously, and he put a hand on his knee to hold it steady. The other began to jerk instead.

‘Calm down,’ he muttered under his breath, conscious of the taxi driver who kept catching his eye in the rear-view mirror.

‘Special occasion, is it?’ the chap asked.

You could say that, Ashton thought. ‘Anniversary.’

‘How many years have you been married?’

‘We’re not married.’ Not yet. ‘This is the anniversary of our first date.’

He had met Lacey outside a nightclub in Thornbury two years previously. She had broken one of her stiletto heels, and he had helped her limp home. She had been somewhat the worse for wear, so when she’d offered to take him out for a drink to say thanks, he hadn’t been expecting to hear from her again especially since she didn’t have his phone number. But she did have a fair idea of where he worked, because he had been wearing his Royal Mail uniform at the time. Her night out may have been drawing to a close, but his day had been about to start, as he had been on his way to begin his shift.

He had almost forgotten the incident, but was sharply reminded of it a few days later when he’d found her loitering outside the sorting office in the hope of catching him. She’d caught him alright – hook, line and sinker. They had been going steady ever since.

They didn’t live together though, despite Ashton spending more time at her place than his own. At least, in the beginning he did, but that was until the early morning starts had begun to get to her. These days, he tended to return to his own little house when he had to be up at the crack of dawn, to allow Lacey to get a decent night’s sleep. She wasn’t a happy bunny when she was tired.

The taxi pulled up outside the terraced house she shared with a friend, and the driver beeped the horn. When there was no sign of her, Ashton got out and rang the bell.

Lacey opened the door after the second ring. ‘Sorry, I couldn’t find my shoe.’ She hopped forward on one shoe-clad foot before catching hold of his arm and bending down to slip a strappy silver sandal onto her other foot.

They shared a smile as she locked up.

‘You and shoes,’ he said, shaking his head and opening the rear door of the taxi for her.

She got in, and he hurried around to the other side. ‘Where are we going?’ she asked.

‘Somewhere nice.’ Ashton caught the driver’s eye again and gave a little shake of his head, warning him not to spoil the surprise by telling her.

The restaurant they were about to dine at was owned by celebrity chef Otto York, and Lacey had wanted to try it ever since it had opened. It had a sterling reputation, was always fully booked, and was eye-wateringly expensive.

It was also a fitting place to propose, Ashton thought, as he patted the ring in his pocket yet again before hastily dropping his hand to his side and hoping she didn’t notice how nervous he was. He didn’t want to spoil that surprise, either.

Ashton didn’t do cheesy. He wasn’t a hide-the-ring-in-the-bottom-of-a-champagne-flute kind of guy, and neither did he like the idea of putting it in the delicately flavoured wild bilberry cheesecake with the lavender biscuit base and rosehip compote drizzled prettily around the plate.

Instead, he waited for the coffee to arrive and topped up Lacey’s glass with the sparkling rosé wine before he made his move.

‘I’ve got something to ask you,’ he began, his hand edging towards his trouser pocket.

Lacey had been relaxing into her seat, a contented expression on her face, but she seemed to stiffen and there was a guarded look in her eye.

It was now or never. Taking a deep breath, he eased the jewellery box out of his pocket and slid off his chair into a kneeling position. There was a sudden hush and Ashton was aware that every pair of eyes in the restaurant were trained on their table. With trembling fingers, he opened the box to reveal a sparkling square-cut diamond encased in gleaming platinum.

‘I love you with all my heart, Lacey. Will you marry me?’

Everyone held their breath. And continued to hold it as the hush stretched into an awkward silence. Ashton watched as the wary expression in Lacey’s eyes turned to one of embarrassment.

‘Um… Can we, like, talk about this later?’ she asked, glancing around and blanching.

Ashton felt the colour drain from his own face, only to return in a whoosh of dismay and mortification as realisation struck.

Lacey was turning him down!

Carla pushed through the crowded pub, craning her neck as she went. The place was hot and noisy, and her nose was assaulted by a hundred different perfumes, the smell of hops, and the lingering aroma of food from the buffet laid out at the rear of the room near the bar.

Carla loved it. She would love it even more if she could spot Yale.

He was the man who was currently making her heart sing and her insides perform somersaults. He was also her line manager, and the company they worked for didn’t encourage fraternisation between management and staff, especially those staff whom a manager was responsible for.

Carla fully appreciated why, but it hadn’t prevented her and Yale from ‘fraternising’ at every opportunity. She hoped to be able to get him on his own this evening so they could fraternise some more. It might be difficult though, because the reason she and many of her colleagues were at the pub was because one of their number (and a reasonably senior one at that, hence the good turnout) was retiring.

She and Yale hadn’t made any arrangements to see each other after the party, but she was seriously considering inviting him back to hers later. The anticipation of making love to him for the very first time was making her quite giddy. It would take their relationship to the next level, and maybe they wouldn’t have to sneak around as much. Or would the increased intimacy mean they’d have to sneak around even more? She bloody hoped not.

There he was!

Her heart lurched at the sight of him. Tall, classically handsome, even with the round spectacles (which Carla suspected he wore more out of vanity than necessity because it made him look intelligent), Yale was the sort of man most women – and many guys – looked at twice.

If ( when ) they took the next step and slept together, Carla wondered whether it might be an idea for her to transfer to a different department. But she loved what she did and loved the department she was in. Besides, any move would probably be a step backwards, as there wasn’t an equivalent role to hers at the same level. Still, the insurance company they both worked for was large and new opportunities arose all the time, so it wouldn’t hurt to keep an eye open. She had been a fraud investigation officer for a while, so she could even consider applying for a promotion.

Right now, promotion was the furthest thing from her mind. All she could think about was how sexy Yale looked when he laughed. He was currently chuckling at something one of the blokes in the credit department said, and she dearly wanted to go over and join in the banter, but she thought it best not to.

Yale continually impressed upon her the importance of not broadcasting their relationship, so she was careful not to give anyone cause to suspect that the two of them were anything other than colleagues. It made life difficult because she struggled not to let her feelings show when she was at work, but she could appreciate where he was coming from. He did her annual appraisal, checked her performance, and could even discipline her if necessary, so the last thing he needed was to be accused of favouritism. Which someone would no doubt do if they knew about them, despite Yale having never shown her any preferential treatment.

Carla bought a white wine spritzer and mingled for a bit, chatting with various people, yet she was always aware of Yale in her peripheral vision. Now and again he would casually pass by, close enough for her to smell his cologne, and one time his hand even brushed against hers.

A buzzing from her clutch bag made her reach for her phone, and she smiled when she saw who the message was from, smiling even wider after she’d read it. Yale had found an empty function room on the first floor and he wanted her to join him. Carla’s pulse fluttered as she anticipated a swift but passionate kiss out of the view of prying eyes. It looked like they would be able to grab a couple of minutes together after all.

After she meandered through the throng and stepped into a corridor leading to the loos, the noise level dropped significantly. Spying a staircase at the far end, she headed for it, glancing behind to make sure no one was watching. Gordon from sales was coming out of the men’s toilet, but he didn’t notice her, so she trotted up the stairs as fast as she could in her too-high heels.

When she reached the top and emerged into an expansive, empty room, Yale was waiting for her. Music, voices, and laughter floated up the stairs, but Carla felt disconnected from it.

His eyes glittered when he saw her and as he reached for her, she sank into him. His mouth found hers and he kissed her hungrily, his hands roving up and down her back, settling on the cheeks of her bum, pulling her close.

‘Let’s get out of here,’ she murmured when they eventually came up for air.

‘Can’t.’ His mouth found hers again.

They kissed for a few minutes more, then Carla broke away. ‘Why not?’

‘Got a wedding to go to tomorrow. Better not have a late night.’

Late night? Carla had been hoping he would stay all night, not merely for part of it.

Yale ran a hand through his hair, his fingers raking it into position, and Carla smoothed her dress, which had ridden up during their embrace.

He said, ‘I need to go back to the party before I’m missed.’

‘Another kiss?’ she begged, hoping she would be able to change his mind about spending the night with her.

His grin was rueful. ‘Can’t get enough of me, eh?’

‘Never,’ she murmured seductively as she pushed him back against the wall and pinned him in place with her arms. She pressed herself against him and her eyes closed, as she anticipated another thrilling kiss.

‘ Stop! What the hell do you think you’re doing?’ he demanded at the same time Carla heard a woman cry, ‘ Yale? What’s going on?’

He shoved Carla away so violently that she staggered and almost fell. Regaining her balance, she turned her shocked face to the person behind her.

The woman was tall and slender, dressed to the nines, and had shiny, bouncy blonde hair. Even though her mouth was twisted in outrage and her eyes were narrowed into a furious glare, Carla could tell she was pretty.

Yale held out his hands in supplication. ‘It’s not what you think, Rachel. You’ve got to believe me.’

‘Yale?’ Carla was bewildered. Who was this woman? And who cared whether someone on the staff had caught them snogging? The company might take a dim view, but it was hardly a crime. Yale was seriously overreacting.

He turned to her, the sexy smile gone. In its place was disgust and contempt. ‘Why can’t you take no for an answer? How many times do I have to tell you I’m not interested?’ He brushed past her, saying to the woman, ‘I came up here to use the gents because someone had been sick in the ones downstairs.’

He jerked his chin, and Carla’s confused gaze flickered to a sign at the far end of the room. It said Toilets and there was an arrow next to it.

‘She must have clocked where I was going and followed me,’ he continued, taking hold of the woman’s arm and leading her towards the stairs. But before he descended them, he paused, turned to Carla and snarled, ‘That’s it, I’m done. No more Mr Nice Guy. I’m reporting you to HR for harassment.’

‘What?’ Carla’s voice was faint. This couldn’t be happening.

Yale shook his head sadly. ‘There’s no point in denying it and pretending nothing happened or that it was a misunderstanding. My fiancée witnessed your appalling behaviour.’ He put his arm around the woman and ushered her down the steps. ‘Come on, darling. I’m sorry you had to see that. What are you doing here, anyway? I thought you were in Walsall for the evening.’ His voice faded as they reached the bottom, then disappeared altogether, lost in the laughter and chatter of the party.

Carla couldn’t move. She was frozen to the spot, disbelief, horror, and heartbreak rendering her immobile. Then, as the realisation that Yale had a fiancée solidified in her brain, she slowly sank to the floor.

He had lied to her, had used her, and had toyed with her emotions. He was nothing but a cheating, slimy scumbag.

So why did her heart feel like it had been torn in two?

‘You look awful,’ Vicky announced as Carla slunk into the office on Monday.

Carla not only looked awful, she also felt it. After crying herself silly when Yale had left her alone in the empty room, she’d managed to stagger out of the pub, thankfully avoiding eye contact with anyone, and had made her way home to sob in the safety of her bedroom.

She had continued to weep on and off for most of the weekend, and by Sunday evening she had been a total mess, having not eaten or slept for forty-eight hours. Feeling nauseous but knowing she should eat, she had ordered a takeaway, managed to force about a third of it down, and had then collapsed exhausted into bed.

Getting up for work this morning had been hard, and despite her best efforts, she knew she looked hideous.

‘You shouldn’t be at work if you’re not well, hun,’ Vicky continued. She stroked her bump protectively.

‘What I’ve got isn’t catching.’ Carla flung her bag and coat on her desk and dropped into her chair.

‘Do you want to talk about it?’

‘Yes, but not here.’ She glanced around furtively. Yale’s door was open, but he wasn’t in his office.

She dreaded seeing him. This was going to be so awkward, and she felt the first fluttering of anger as she considered the position he had put her in. No wonder the bloody man didn’t want their relationship to become general knowledge. He could hardly have broadcast it, considering he was already in a relationship. He had a fiancée, for pity’s sake!

Her anger was accompanied by shame and bitterness. She wouldn’t have gone near him with a barge pole if she’d had the slightest inkling he was taken, and she wondered whether anyone else knew he was engaged. Yale had only been working in the Birmingham office for a couple of months, having transferred from the Leeds branch, but that was no excuse for hiding a fiancée. There’d been no hint of it on the grapevine either, so she could only assume he had deliberately kept it quiet.

Vicky said, ‘Shall we grab an early lunch? You can tell me all about it then.’

Carla guessed that Vicky would be shocked to learn that Yale was a two-timing arsehole. And she would be even more shocked when she knew it was Carla he was two-timing, as she hadn’t told anyone, not even her best friend Dulcie, that she had been seeing him.

Deciding to get her head down and do some work (it would be an excuse not to look at Yale or acknowledge him when he appeared) Carla stowed her bag under her desk and started up her computer. She had got as far as logging into her emails when the phone rang.

It was an internal call and the news wasn’t good. Mrs Bissett in HR wanted to see her. Now .

Carla bit her lip as she felt the remaining colour drain from her already wan cheeks. Had Yale carried through with his threat? She hadn’t honestly thought he would. She’d assumed it had been bluff and bluster in the face of almost being caught in the arms of another woman.

Another woman… Carla never imagined that she would be the other woman. It made her feel ashamed and immoral.

Standing up abruptly, she sent her chair scooting backwards. ‘I’ve been summoned to HR,’ she announced when she caught Vicky’s concerned glance. ‘Shit and double shit.’

‘I take it from your reaction, it isn’t going to be good news?’

‘No.’ Carla scanned the office to make sure no one was listening. ‘I’ve been seeing Yale,’ she said.

Vicky’s brow furrowed. ‘Okay, it’s frowned on but it’s hardly a reason for HR to get involved.’

‘There’s more.’ Hurriedly she explained what had happened at the party.

‘What a rotter!’ Vicky looked furious.

‘Rotter?’

‘I’m trying not to swear. I don’t want the baby to hear.’

‘No, of course not.’ Carla straightened her shoulders. ‘Wish me luck.’

‘I bet it’s about something else and not about that at all,’ Vicky replied, trying to reassure her, but her tone lacked conviction.

Carla was expecting to see Yale in Mrs Bissett’s office and was thankful when he wasn’t. Still, she was nevertheless alarmed when the HR Manager informed her that an assistant would sit in on the meeting to make notes.

After being invited to sit down, Mrs Bissett explained the purpose of the meeting.

Carla struggled to take it in. The words ‘allegation’, ‘misconduct’ and ‘investigation’ lodged in her head, swirling around as she tried to make sense of them.

And when Mrs Bissett said, ‘Possible disciplinary action,’ Carla felt tears well up and threaten to spill over.

‘I can’t… It’s not… It wasn’t like that!’ she blurted. ‘If he’s told you that I threw myself at him, he’s lying. We’ve been seeing each other for the past month. As boyfriend and girlfriend.’ As soon as she said it, she knew it wasn’t true. How could he be her boyfriend when he was committed to another woman?

Hopelessly, not expecting to be believed, she continued, ‘He’s only saying that because his fiancée caught us together.’ Oh, that sounded so bad when she said it out loud, even if it was the truth. Feeling the need to explain, she added, ‘I didn’t know he was engaged, honestly I didn’t. He never told me, otherwise I wouldn’t have…’ She trailed off.

‘May I stop you there, Carla. You’ll have the opportunity to put your side of the story at a later date. This is just an informal chat to make you aware there has been a complaint and that you are under investigation. Furthermore, as you work in the same department as the complainant, I’m afraid we’ll have to transfer you until matters are resolved one way or another.’

Close to tears, Carla tried to work out what she meant by ‘one way or another.’ And when she heard that she was being transferred to sales, which she had little experience of and even less enthusiasm for, she was unable to contain her dismay. The tears she had been so valiantly trying to hold back, spilled over and trickled down her cheeks as she began to sob.

It wasn’t fair! She wasn’t the one in the wrong, yet she was being punished for it.

At the sight of her distress, Mrs Bissett showed a modicum of compassion and sent her home for the rest of the day. As far as Carla was concerned, it was the least they could do.

And the way she was feeling right now, they’d be lucky if she showed up tomorrow. Or ever again!

Carla stared at her phone’s screen, seeing the concern on her mum’s face.

‘Have you spoken to anyone? Taken some advice?’ her mum asked.

Carla nodded. It was mid-afternoon in Birmingham, seven in the morning in the Caribbean, which was where her mother currently was. She worked as a holiday rep for Silver Sands Getaways and, as the name suggested, she got away a lot. During the summer, Carla hardly ever saw her. She didn’t see her all that often in the winter months, either.

The arrangement suited them both, especially since Carla still lived at home. At thirty years of age, she felt that she should have a place of her own, so this was the next best thing. Considering she didn’t have a whopping great mortgage around her neck, it was probably better. The benefit for her mum was that the house was occupied whilst she was away.

Right this minute, Carla wished her mum was here, despite her not being able to do anything other than give her a cuddle and some moral support.

‘I’ve spoken to my union rep,’ Carla replied. She’d had a long conversation with a lovely man called Charlie, who had basically told her not to panic. But how could she not panic? She could lose her job over this, and the thought of going to work tomorrow, into a different department and doing something she was overqualified for, made her feel ill.

What was worse was that even if her colleagues didn’t know what had gone on, rumours would be rife and she didn’t think she could face the whispers behind her back and the speculative looks. If she had been allowed to remain at her own desk, she might have been able to ride it out. But not as things currently stood.

Her voice breaking, she said, ‘I can’t go back there.’

‘Then don’t.’

‘But I have to. I can’t resign. It would be seen as an admission of guilt.’

‘I’m not suggesting you resign,’ her mum said. ‘I’m suggesting you take a leave of absence until this blows over.’

So that was precisely what she did.