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Starting Over Again	By : gallygaskins Category: 1 through F > Clocking Off (BBC) > Clocking Off (BBC) Views: 1118 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Clocking Off and I do not earn any money from this fanfiction.

Chapter List
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Chapter 3 – Getting to know you.

Another early cock crow had seen Mack jump from his bed, only to close his windows and climb back under the luscious duvet. He was far too tired to get up early again and he hadn’t slept well at all. Putting the pillow and then the duvet over his head he banged his hands down around the sides of his skull trying to drown out any noises that his ears were picking up. Somewhere a door slammed and he shot back up, wasn’t that the door that had ever so quietly been opened earlier on in the morning whilst the sun was still climbing up from Australia.

He crawled out of bed and quickly made for his door, pressing his ear against the wood and listening for any signs of movement. If there had been any then it was now still once more, but he could feel his heart doing double time in his chest almost as if it was trying to escape the confines of his ribs and burst through the taught tanned skin. He looked back toward the bed, it looked so inviting to him but he couldn’t bring himself to climb in again. He had to see if Sophie had arrived.

He opened the door to the Armoire looking inside, there wasn’t much as most of the clothing he had brought with him had found its way into the Walker washing basket. Jenny had offered and there was no way he was going to refuse her kindness. “For services rendered,” she had said, taking the pile of dirty laundry from his arms and adding it to the never dwindling pile that was the family’s. It was too hot for jeans, and most of his shirts weren’t going to be that comfortable to work in. Pulling at the hangers they glided along the rail, Mack methodically deciding which of his clothes were right for his employment. He began to wish he’d brought more with him.

He pulled out a pair of dark brown cropped combats and found a loose fitting cream short sleeved shirt to accompany them. He found his dark brown leather trainers and decided that that would do him for today until he got his washing back anyway. Hanging the garments on the back of the bathroom door he made his way for the shower, sliding under the hot spray and allowing the needle fine water to clear his pores as it tried to penetrate his skin. He quickly towelled himself dry and hung the towel around his waist as he finished his grooming over the sink. After pulling on his clothes, he made his way up to the farmhouse, pushing a hand through his rapidly drying hair.

As he walked through the door, the smell of toast, cooked ham and cheese invaded his nostrils. Whatever was being cooked up for breakfast had him salivating, he only hoped it was worth the wait.

“Uncle Jimmy!” V screamed as she noticed him from the top of the stairs, she ran down half of them and flung herself from the step into his waiting arms bringing the youngest Walker child into his embrace when he had her full weight.

“Who is uncle Jimmy, V? Another of your imaginary friends?” A female voice rang out from the kitchen. It certainly wasn’t Jenny’s.

“He’s not imaginary,” V shouted, “he’s very real, aren’t you?” She asked him, he nodded mutely.

“Come on, V. You don’t have an uncle Jimmy. Stop messing about and come and get your breakfast.” It was her, it had to be.

“Ok, Sophie, I’m coming.” His heart skipped a beat at the mere mention of her name so he began the walk up the hallway and into the kitchen with Véronique still in his arms. He stopped suddenly, staring at the back of the figure that was cooking at the stove, her long dark hair caught in a ribbon at the nape of her neck. She was humming to herself as she continued with her task.

“Are the other’s up?”

“Yes, Sophie.”

“Are they coming down?”

“Yes, soon. Daddy’s in the bathroom again.”

“Oh, I see,” she turned around to place the serving plate onto the table, obviously looking around for her niece. She noticed his legs and travelled the length of his body, passing over the child’s form as she continued higher. Her hazel orbs met his steely grey, opening wide like a rabbit caught in headlights when she realised who it was. “What are you doing here?”

“You know uncle Jimmy already?”

“Yes, poppet, I do.” She crossed the distance between them, holding out her arms to take hold of the child but V resisted. Her tiny fingers pressed into Mack’s neck, holding on for dear life. Mack continued to cradle her hoping that the pain would end soon but V was not to be prised away by her aunt. Sophie gave in; defeat swept her face as she retreated back to the stove.

Mack wanted to go to her, put his arms around her, and tell her that everything was ok but he knew that he couldn’t. “V, go and cuddle your aunt.” He whispered, putting the girl down on the ground and coaxing her. She obeyed, running around the table and grabbing onto Sophie’s leg. Sophie looked down, a watery gaze swept back to look at him momentarily as she put her hand on top of V’s head and stroked through her soft hair. He smiled back, before taking a seat and pouring himself a cup of coffee.

Steven strode into the room, walking around to Sophie and placing a kiss on top of her head. “Didn’t I tell you, Mack? The only time we eat anything decent in this house is when my sister decides to grace us with her presence.” Her elbow met with one of his ribs and Mack laughed at the sight. Steven sat in his normal place and picked up a sandwich. “Dig in, Mack.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, what are they?” Mack asked, looking at the pile of toasties.

“Croquet Monsieur! My favourite.” Steven replied and then realised what Mack had been asking, “oh, they’ve got ham and cheese inside. Delicious.”

“I’m going to milk, Fleur.” Sophie bit out nonchalantly.

“I’ve done it already.” Steven returned, his attention going back to Mack immediately, “aren’t they delicious?”

“Yeah, they’re great,” Mack replied, biting into a half of sandwich and nearly burning his tongue in the process. “Really delicious.”

“I’ll go and bring the eggs in then.” Sophie suggested.

“Girls did that earlier, sit down and have something to eat.” Steven said, exasperation in his voice.

“I’ve eaten,” she lied, the last thing she wanted to do was sit at a table with a man she hardly knew. “And since when has it become customary for the guests to infiltrate their way into our family?”

“Since this guest helped us out with the vineyard, in more ways than one.” Steven’s anger was rising.

“Pardon me for asking. And don’t we normally charge guests to stay?” She leant herself against the back of a kitchen chair, her eyes wild as she stared at her sibling. Understanding that Steven was going to answer she turned on her heel, walked out the back door and into the yard.

“Sophie,” Steven tried, his wife now joining the assembled mass in the kitchen.

“What did you say to her?” Jenny enquired of him.

“She was asking about Mack’s relationship with the family. I don’t think she knows how to deal with it.”

Mack interrupted, “I’m sorry I’ve put you in this position.” He got up and began walking back down the hall.

“Mack, where do you think you’re going?” Jenny asked, “at the beginning of the week you were telling me that you weren’t going to live your life with any regrets. You’ll regret it if you walk out that door.”

He turned back to her, “I have no intention of walking away, I just want to give you all some space. I’ll have my meals in the gites from now on.”

“No, you won’t,” Jenny replied, pushing Steven back into his seat as he made to go out after his sister. “I’ll go and speak to her, make her realise what you’ve already done for us. Hopefully she’ll come around in a bit and we can start again.” She picked up a couple of sandwiches and followed after Sophie.

“Women,” Steven remarked, “every time you think you’ve hit the nail on the head they come back at you with something else.”

Mack sat back down and stared into his coffee. “Steven, you know her better than anyone, and I hope I’m not being disrespectful but,” Mack looked over to him before continuing, “do you think she likes me?”

“Likes you, I’d say she’s planning your wedding.”

.oOo.

Jenny rushed up the hill and into the olive grove, knowing exactly where to find Sophie. As she spotted her sister in law’s form she made her way over and took a seat next to her. She held out one of the sandwiches which Sophie gratefully took and began to devour. “What’s up, Sophie?”

“Nothing.”

“Come on, I heard most of what was said.”

Sophie eyed Jenny, “it’s him.”

“Who, Mack?” Sophie nodded, “what about him? Has he hurt you or something?”

Sophie shook her head. “I gave him one of my paintings, I didn’t actually think I’d see him again, some wide boy from god knows where.”

“You should get to know him.”

“I don’t want to.”

“At all?”

“At all.”

“Sophie, he’s not actually the kind of man you expect him to be, once you get to know him.”

“And you and Steve know him now then. He could be an axe murderer for all you know.”

“Sophie. He’s nothing of the sort. He’s done more for us than you could dare to imagine.”

“What’s he after?”

‘For some strange reason, you,’ she thought, “he actually came up here to join one of your classes.”

“Why?”

“How the hell do I know, if you want to know that you’ll have to ask him yourself.”

Again Sophie felt defeated; there was something about this man that her family adored. “What has he done for us?” She asked quietly.

“He’s been helping out in the vineyard and the cellar, a friend of his has set up a website for us and another has translated it.”

“Why would he do that?”

“Because he realised we needed help. That man may not be your idea of perfection, Sophie, but his heart is certainly in the right place. He’s stopped at nothing to help out and the kids love him. He’s even offered to lend us some money to help us get the vineyard back up on its feet.”

“He wants to own us.”

“What? Why?”

“I don’t know?”

“Sophie, he’s a business man. For all I know he’s come here to help you get your paintings seen by wealthy people. He obviously knows a few. And when he saw the problems the vineyard was facing he offered to help out. Why, I don’t know and if you want that question answered you’ll have to ask him.”

Jenny got up from her seat and began to walk away. “Jenny?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you think he’s here because of the painting or because of me?”

Jenny shrugged, “I’d say you. But again that’s something you’re going to have to find out from him.”

She turned and walked down the hill, Sophie following her retreating form. “Best be nice to the only paying guest we’ve had in two months then, hadn’t I?”

.oOo.

Sophie found Mack in the garden, digging and de-weeding over a plot that had once been her grandfather’s vegetable plot. He’d taken his shirt off, his muscles rippling beneath his golden skin as he carried on with his task. She swallowed, scolding herself for allowing the sight of him to take her breath away. Managing to keep control, she made her way over to him and sat down on the steps watching him, like she’d done when her grandfather was still alive. He straightened up as soon as he noticed her; unaware of the effect he was having on her insides as they churned away. “I’ve come to apologise.”

He drew the back of his hand over his brow, wiping away the sweat, “no apology needed. I’m sorry that my presence is so unwelcome to you.”

“Not unwelcome, just unexpected.” He gave her a curt nod as he continued with his toil. “This used to be my grandfather’s vegetable patch.”

“And it will be again. I’m just digging over it so that the girls can help me plant it up tomorrow.”

“They seem to adore you.”

“Adore may be too strong a word, they like me though. Unlike their aunt.”

“I don’t dislike you.”

He stopped again, leaning against the fork as it stuck fast in the clay soil. “So what is it then, Sophie?”

Her mouth opened and closed like a goldfish trying to think of the right thing to say. Finally, she settled on something that she thought would work. “Can we start afresh?” His glare softened. She got up, leaned over and stuck her hand out to him, “Hi, I’m Sophie Walker, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

He took her hand in his, delighting in how it felt with his fingers wrapped around it. “James Mackintosh, Mack to my friends and the pleasure is all mine.” He stepped toward her, drawing her hand to his mouth and placing a delicate kiss upon her knuckles.

She’d have collapsed had it not been for the fact that Mack was still holding onto her. “And what do you do for a living, Mack?”

“I used to own a factory.”

“Used to?”

“It’s a long story, far too boring. How about you?”

“I paint and I teach people to paint landscapes and still life’s.”

“That’s interesting; I came here for a master class in painting and haven’t had a lesson yet.”

“I’m sorry about that, I must ask the booking clerk why she didn’t tell me,” it was easy to tease him, she smiled up at him.

He returned it, still holding onto her hand, “yeah, sounds like they need reprimanding,” he countered.

She bit her bottom lip, “do you still have the painting I gave you?”

He nodded, “yes, I hung it over my bed.”

Maybe she was reading too much into it but why on earth had he done that? She was about to ask when Camille came bounding into the enclosed garden. “Sophie, mum wants your washing.”

“Ok, Cam, I’ll be there in a minute,” she looked over at Mack, “I’m sorry, I have to go and do this.”

“Fine, just hurry back when you can. I need those lessons I’ve paid for.” She skipped from the yard, how the looks from that one man could make her feel so alive and vibrant. She glanced back just as she was walking under the arch and realised that his eyes were still on her. Well, if that didn’t answer one of her questions then she’d been out of the game far too long. He was there because he liked her, and she had the feeling that she could possibly like him in return. The point was, did she want to?

.oOo.

Dinner had been pleasant; Sophie had taken a short drive down to the coast and bought mussels for them all. She’d cooked a traditional Moules Mariniere with plenty of crusty French bread to dip in the creamy garlic sauce. The meal was scrumptious and the conversation charming as the extended Walker family carried on as if the rift at the breakfast table hadn’t even happened. Mack had been surprised to find that the girls had sat him next to Sophie but it allowed for the two to have brief interludes away from the main family dialogue.

After dinner, Sophie had insisted that Mack show her the designs for the website and, after punishing the site with her relentless attempts to crash it, decided that it was actually a good tool in order for them to move the business forward, the French translation was excellent in her opinion and she agreed to come up with some designs to make the pages more appealing. Steven touched on the subject of money and Sophie approved of them taking a 20,000 Euro loan from Mack, providing that everything was set up properly and that Mack would agree to accept some interest on the money owed. A quick phone call to Peter Cochran and the wheels were set in motion.

Steven and Jenny retired to bed when they realised that they were both up far later than they ever normally were, leaving Sophie and Mack to discuss the finer points of painting and what Sophie had in mind for their first lesson.

“What have you actually been doing Mack, whilst you’ve been waiting for me to return?”

“I’ve helped out with the vines, training them and pinching them out. I’ve been bottling up some of last years produce, which reminds me. Don’t know how you feel about it but I think the labels could do with an overhaul.”

“They were my grandfather’s design but I know what you mean they are a bit dated. I’ll have a think and see what I can come up with but I think when we put the idea to Steven it should come from you, he seems to respond to you better, Mr Businessman of the Year.”

“Not quite, Sophie. You wouldn’t say that if you’d ever worked for me.”

“Why not?”

“Because I couldn’t stand people taking the piss out of me or the business. In fact, that place was like a noose around my neck. Not that I don’t miss it.”

“Would you do it again?”

“Truthfully?” He looked at her and began shaking his head, “yes, in a heart beat. I miss not having something to go to.”

“You could always start over.”

“Maybe, but I’d want to do things a bit differently. I mean, I’d want the same quality and sell to the same customers but I’d want to take it further, have some designer stuff that they’d want because they couldn’t get it anywhere else.”

“Haven’t thought about it much, have you?”

“I’ve had plenty of time on my own on that boat. Even though I didn’t spend many nights on my own I kept the days for me.” He watched her cheeks tint with his statement. “Sorry, didn’t mean to be so forthright.”

“Why did you do it?”

“Have so many women?” She nodded. “I don’t know really, because I could, because I didn’t have anyone to answer to, because I didn’t believe anyone could love me.”

“And now?”

“I’m tired, Sophie. All I’ve ever wanted is to settle down and have a family, before I was 40 preferably. But that didn’t happen; I had a beautiful wife that only loved me for my money and slept with god knows how many men behind my back. A girlfriend who treated me in much the same way, which I realised just a little too late after ridding myself of the factory and my home. Then there was Trudy.”

“Trudy?”

“My right hand gal, knew everything about me and the business. She loved me but I didn’t know, and when I did it was too late. Then she married Martin. God, I’ve made a pig’s ear of my life.”

“Everything happens for a reason, Mack, don’t you think?”

He laughed, “so we learn from our mistakes, you mean?”

“Not necessarily, just that things happen because they are what takes you through life, until you find yourself in the right place, with the right person.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, how old are you?”

“I’m 35.”

“Wow,” he gulped back his surprise, “35 and you’re still not with Mr Right.”

“I’m happy as I am.”

“No one is happy being alone, how ever much they tell you they are. I know, I’ve been there.”

“But you’re on your own now.”

“Not really, not here.”

“They’re not your family, Mack.”

“No, they’re not but they are my friends, and I’ve been seriously lacking in them too.”

“How old are you?”

“Too old.” He noticed her shaking her head. “I’m 43, soon be 44 in August.”

“You don’t look a day over 38.” She hid her face as she felt her cheeks hot up again.

“Well, I feel more like 78. Sophie?”

“Yeah?”

“Would you consider having dinner with this old fool?” Her face lifted up at his question, her eyes searching his face for the joke that she knew he was playing. “As friends, if nothing else,” he added.

“Mack, I …”

“Please? I’ll resort to begging if I have to.”

“Um …”

“Ok, look, I’ve asked now it’s up to you to decide. I’ll give you till your niece’s birthday party to let me know. Ok?” She nodded, watching him get up from his seat. “I’m going to bed now, need my beauty sleep. See you in the morning?”

“Yes, goodnight Mack. Sleep well.”

“I will, and you, sweet dreams.”

Sophie sat back in her chair, the breath that she’d been unaware of holding escaping from her body, still not quite believing that he’d asked her to join him for dinner. If she said no, then she’d stand no chance with him but if she said yes what kind of signal would that send him. And she wasn’t quite sure if she was ready for all that again. Not after what had happened with Jacques. She dabbed at her eyes as they began to well with tears, hating herself for remembering the man that had hurt her the most.

She noticed that Mack had left his laptop. She went over to the computer and sat down in front of it, the cursor blinking in the search box at the top of the internet search engine. She typed in ‘James Mackintosh’ and hit return. After a few seconds the first page of several thousand appeared and nothing seemed relevant. She added ‘Manchester’ to the search in order to narrow it down a bit, clicking on the UK pages only to decrease the entries further. The first item opened up to a report in the ‘Manchester Evening News’ about the new owners of ‘Mackintosh Textiles’.

She went back to the engine and searched for ‘Mackintosh Textiles+Manchester’ bringing up more results but also bringing up the company website. She opened the link and was transported back 5 years. Methodically going through the pages she found out more about the factory in half an hour than she thought Mack would ever impart to her, an idea forming in her head. Putting the screen down on the computer, she was resolved to speak to Mack in the morning. And her answer to his dinner proposal was going to be yes.
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Starting Over Again