Rebecca Pugh - Return To Bluebell Hill

Rueben laughed lightly at Esme’s retreating figure before growing quiet. They walked in silence, both of them unsure of what to say to the other. Firstly, they’d just attended her parents’ funeral which of course made conversation awkward and secondly, in Rueben’s mind, she was not supposed to be in Bluebell Hill but in Cornwall. She wished she hadn’t lied to him on the train. It would have been so much easier for her now if she had just told him the truth from the beginning. There was always the chance that their paths wouldn’t have crossed but things hadn’t quite worked out that way. Things very rarely worked out the way you wanted them to, she grumbled to herself.

‘So, Cornwall, huh?’ Rueben asked eventually. ‘Did you change your mind? Decide to stop off in Bluebell Hill instead?’ His voice was playful and he was obviously attempting to lighten the tone. She was grateful but it didn’t make anything better or easier.

She stared straight ahead as she tried to think of an appropriate reply. How awkward was this? ‘It’s a messy situation,’ she said in the end, hoping he wouldn’t try to pry any further into it. ‘In this instance, a lie was prettier than the truth. I wished I’d been going to Cornwall.’ She couldn’t have just blurted out that she was going back for her parents’ funeral when they’d met on the train. It would have stilted their conversation and destroyed the tone that she’d enjoyed sharing with him as they’d chatted during the journey. She’d enjoyed talking to him without the mention of a funeral and she’d chosen to keep it that way. No one could blame her, could they? Who knew what to say when someone mentioned a funeral? She certainly didn’t so she couldn’t have expected Rueben to continue with conversation after such a dark confession.

Rueben nodded, as if he understood. ‘I see. I guess Cornwall did seem more attractive given the circumstances.’ He smiled at her and she couldn’t help but return it. He had such a nice smile. ‘I had no idea they had a daughter. Your parents, I mean.’ He raised a single eyebrow in her direction. ‘I hope that didn’t sound rude.’

‘Not rude at all and like I said, messy situation.’ She shrugged it off but the weight of the situation didn’t shift from off her shoulders. ‘How did you know them?’ She turned to him, interested to know more.

‘I worked for them, actually,’ Rueben replied. ‘I tended the gardens at Bluebell House. That’s my thing, you see. Gardening. I love it. Especially Bluebell House’s gardens.’ He nodded towards something, and Jessica turned, surprised to spy the roof of Bluebell House just visible in the distance behind the overgrown hedges. ‘I was sad to hear of their death.’ He cleared his throat as if turning away from that particular road of conversation. ‘My parents and I moved to Bluebell Hill years ago. I love it here, just as much as my folks, I think. Which is odd because most twenty-something men prefer the wild life. You know, clubbing and pubbing it. Don’t they?’ He grinned at her. ‘The woods, the peace and quiet. It’s much more appealing to me than getting drunk.’ He looked at her. ‘What about you?’

She was surprised. Most men adored that type of lifestyle. How refreshing to meet a man with a different mind-set. Glancing up, she saw that Esme’s cottage was coming into view and just in time. She could avoid answering his question. She picked up the pace as they continued towards it, acutely aware of Rueben waiting patiently for her reply. Truthfully, she didn’t really want to speak about herself. The only people who really knew about her past were Sarah and Esme. Esme had lived it right beside her. Two people was more than enough to share secrets with. Rueben had no need to know about her past in Bluebell Hill but she was thankful for his company.

‘There’s not much to say about me,’ she offered eventually. ‘I live in London, I work for a publishing company as a marketing manager. I’m just back in Bluebell Hill for a little while to sort a few things out following the death of my parents. I won’t be here long. A fleeting visit really.’

‘I’m presuming you lived with your parents before you went to London? When you were little? Or...’ He trailed off, obviously hoping she’d fill in the gaps.

‘Or,’ she replied quickly, preferring that option to the one where she’d have to explain herself. ‘It’s complicated and you’d probably get confused with all of the crazy details. Plus, after this morning, I don’t feel like talking about it. I’m sure you understand.’ She was beginning to grow hot and bothered as she felt the weight of his curious stare but she refused to make eye contact so instead, stared straight ahead.

‘Okay. That’s fine.’ He held his hands up in defence, smiling easily behind them. ‘It’s none of my business, I know. But hey, you’re lucky you have Esme. She’s great, isn’t she?’ Rueben looked towards the cottage fondly and Jessica studied the side of his face as he did so. It looked like he had a soft spot for Esme, too. It warmed her heart to know that she wasn’t the only one who was fond of the woman.

She smiled and nodded in agreement as she reached the cottage and hurried up the path, eager to get inside and away from any further questions that Rueben might have. She was constantly aware of his presence behind her though. She couldn’t quite decide whether she liked it or not. Only time would tell. She pushed open the cottage door and left it open for Rueben.

***

During a lunch of salad in the cottage garden, bowls scattered across the iron table providing a selection of tasty food from new potatoes to crunchy carrot sticks, Jessica learnt that Rueben was a handyman and helpful gardener in Bluebell Hill. Esme complimented his skills and told Jessica of how the women in the village called him round not only to trim their hedges but to admire him up a set of ladders, too. Rueben shrugged it all off modestly, throwing a couple of handsome, amused grins Jessica’s way, to which she couldn’t help but giggle in return. Whenever Rueben smiled his green eyes lit up, appearing more vibrant somehow. It was hard not to look at his strong neck muscles when he threw his head back to laugh. Everything about the man was pleasing to look at, Jessica realised. Absolutely everything.

She found out that Rueben’s father owned a farm shop a couple of miles away from the village, selling eggs, hefty sacks of potatoes, carrots and radishes that he’d grown himself at his allotments. Rueben’s mother was an avid cook and no longer worked but spent her days in the kitchen of their small home that sat prettily on the outskirts of Bluebell Hill. ‘She’s happiest at home in the kitchen,’ Rueben had explained, smiling fondly as he spoke about her. ‘And she cooks the best food in the world, take it from me. I sometimes miss living at home just because of that fact. Thankfully, I don’t live too far away, just the next town over, so I still stop off there sometimes if I’m feeling peckish.’ He grinned cheekily, completely at ease with himself and with the company that he was sharing.

As he told them childhood tales, Jessica became captivated by him, slowly forgetting about the emotional upheaval of the morning. His enthusiasm for gardening and Bluebell Hill itself, as well as going on morning runs and visiting his nieces and nephews, had Jessica sitting up a little straighter in her chair, laughing and smiling and willing him to carry on. His smile was infectious and she was eager to hear more about Rueben and his quiet life. Wanting to know more.

Eventually, once their plates were empty, conversation turned towards Bluebell House. When Rueben began to direct questions at Jessica in regards to it, she could feel herself retreating, not wanting to reveal too much, beginning to clam up like an oyster shell. She couldn’t help it. It was automatic. Any mention of her childhood home or her parents, and she felt her throat tightening, snatching away the ability to speak. She’d been having such a good time, too.