by Carol Wyer
‘I know about this disorder,’ he said, quietly.
She sniffed back the tears that were forming. ‘You do?’
‘My mother suffered from social anxiety disorder. It became so bad she wouldn’t leave the house and she didn’t for twenty years until the day she passed away.’ His face became even more serious. ‘You have to keep fighting it, Chloe. My mom didn’t and in the end, I think it helped kill her.’
He walked over to the front door and turned the open sign to closed. ‘I’ve got tea and coffee upstairs in the flat. You want a cup?’
She drew a breath. He understood. Her hands stopped shaking and she gave him a grateful smile. ‘Thank you. I’d like that.’
* * *
Eleanor knocked at her door ten minutes after she got home from town.
‘Hi. Just nipped over to see if you’d changed your mind,’ she said.
‘Oh, Eleanor, I’m sorry but I’m not really in the mood for partying,’ she said.
‘Rubbish. It’s New Year’s Eve. We have champagne. My dad’s brought his karaoke set. Why not come over? You can’t spend the night alone. I won’t hear of it. It’s my duty as your favourite neighbour to keep an eye on you and not let you procrastinate instead of writing, especially tonight.’ Her eyes sparkled merrily. Chloe was touched. Eleanor had rapidly become a good friend, but no matter how much she pleaded Chloe wasn’t going to a social gathering.
‘I know it sounds odd but I’d really like to be alone tonight. So much has happened over the last few months and although I’m grateful to you for inviting me over, I honestly won’t be good company. I’d rather have some quiet time with Ronnie. I need to get my head around a few things and mentally prepare myself for the new year.’ She’d been as honest as she dared to be. She did truly want time to reflect on recent events, plan her new book and be with Ronnie. She enjoyed her own company. She wanted some private time to think about her family who could no longer share celebrations with her and Nanny Olive who’d also gone. She wanted to think back to life on Skye and try and recall who she’d been before William had come along. She hadn’t been quite so scared of everyone then, had she? She’d had difficulties but she hadn’t felt so afraid. Talking to Sean had helped her appreciate she needed to get a grip of her situation and talk to her online support groups again and start living. You’re stronger than you think. She would spend the evening making resolutions she wouldn’t break, that would see a new Chloe emerge – more like the woman she was before she met William.
‘Okay. If you’re positive. I just didn’t want you to be alone or unhappy.’ Eleanor’s sincerity was touching. She patted Chloe’s hand. ‘If you change your mind, come over. You’ll be very welcome and none of our friends bite! I’ve been over to see Alex in case he wanted to come but he’s still out with Jacqueline. I don’t know if anything will come of their date but if it does, it can’t last. Shame really.’
‘Why not?’
‘Oh, didn’t you know? Alex is only living here until the development’s completed. Thomas told me. As soon as they finish the last house, he’s selling up, no doubt making a healthy profit in the process, and moving to Spain. He only came back to help his father out.’ Seeing Chloe’s face, she added. ‘I know. Shame, isn’t it? He’s so nice and easy to get along with. I really hope all our other neighbours are going to be as friendly as him… and you,’ she added. She gave Chloe a hug and raced off. Chloe looked at Ronnie who looked as crestfallen as she felt.
‘Oh no. There’ll be no more ham and mustard sandwiches or cheese and onion crisps for you to steal from his lunchbox. What a pity!’
Chapter Twelve
Monday, 1st January
‘Happy New Year, Ronnie!’ Chloe raised her glass of champagne in his direction. She sipped the contents allowing the bubbles to burst on her tongue releasing a light citrus flavour. Her phone which was sitting on the table lit up, and she read the message from Sean wishing her an adventurous, happy and writer’s-block-free new year. He’d completely understood her. Even William hadn’t completely comprehended what it was like to live with social anxiety disorder but Sean did, and to know somebody not only grasped the difficulty of her situation but still liked her was the best start to the new year. She’d taken the first step on the ladder. The second had come during her conversation with Sean. She’d stayed well into the afternoon and early evening, chatting about all sorts of subjects…
Talking of keeping secrets, I have one to share with you.’
‘If it’s a secret, you ought to keep it,’ she says.
‘It’s fine to share this one, especially as he wants to invite you to the pantomime. He’s building up the courage to ask you.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘Rob. He’s got a front-row ticket for the pantomime Cinderella being performed in Lichfield, just for you.’
‘That’s weird. A pantomime? Why hasn’t he asked me, then?’
‘Hasn’t found the right moment, I suppose, but he will. So, on that basis it’s fine to tell you the secret.’ He gives her a broad smile and his eyes light up. Chloe likes his gentle, easy manner.
‘Tell me what?’
‘Rob is a pantomime dame.’
‘Rob? Never?’
‘I swear he is. He’s playing one of the ugly sisters. He plays dames every year in panto.’
‘Rob?’ she repeats. ‘The same man who likes rock music and looks like a bouncer for a nightclub.’
‘The very same. Neat, eh? He’s the last person I would imagine dressed in a hooped skirt and make-up.’
‘You’re fabricating this, aren’t you?’
‘Cross my heart,’ he replies making the sign of a cross on his broad chest. ‘You want me to take you so you can see for yourself?’
‘I couldn’t.’
‘Chloe, you can’t hide away on the hill. It’s not good for you. You heard what I told you about Mom. You have to try to get out and what better way? It’s not going to be so bad. It’ll be dark in the theatre and you’ll be with me. Rob would be so pleased you went.’
‘I don’t want to encourage him and give him the wrong idea. I’m not ready for another relationship.’
His stood with eyes downcast. ‘Sure. I don’t want to sound pushy either. I get you. Just promise me you won’t shut yourself off from the world. It’d be the worst thing you could do. I’m at the end of a phone and always happy to chat. I’ll even drive out to you if you want.’
‘Thanks.’
He pauses and then lifts his cup to his lips. ‘Poor Rob. He’ll be crushed. He’ll have to pass on his free ticket to another unsuspecting lady.’
Chloe wondered what the year would bring. Could there be any romance between her and Sean? She searched her heart and found the answer simple – no. They got on really well, but he already felt like an older brother, and as hard as she tried she simply couldn’t fancy him. She fancied Alex but Jacqueline had designs on him and how could she compete with such a vibrant woman? And besides, he was leaving the development and the UK altogether. Rob? No way. Tim, the boy-man? No. And Ed, a fifty-something-year-old with a grey pony tail and so quietly spoken she had to strain to hear him. No chance. The fact was, she didn’t need romance in her life. She’d had it once and it had been followed by heartache. She couldn’t face any more of that.
She snuggled under the fleece blanket on the settee with Ronnie and watched fireworks light up the Houses of Parliament in London. She’d turned down the volume and stroked her dog whose eyes reflected the bright flashes on the television set.
‘We’re fine just as we are,’ she said. Ronnie licked her nose.
A rustling made his ears suddenly prick up and he shifted stealthily from the settee to the curtains in front of the French window where he snuffled eagerly.
‘What is it?’ She stood up; the blanket fell to the floor. It might be burglars. Without thinking she picked up the nearest object to her and followed Ronnie who moved quietly towards the back door. She follo
wed him. She’d read about robbers targeting houses on New Year’s Eve, knowing the occupants would be out partying. With her curtains drawn, the house was in complete darkness and somebody was prowling about. She held her breath and listened for sounds of breaking glass. She ought to ring the police but it was unlikely she’d get a rapid response at two minutes past midnight on New Year’s Day. Ronnie gave a low growl. She steeled herself. She couldn’t cower inside and wait for somebody to strike. She had to be brave, like Laila. Ronnie growled again, a low warning. She had Ronnie. He’d protect her and she’d scream and shout and make so much noise it would set him off into a frenzy and together they’d frighten off whoever it was that was lurking about.
She left the kitchen light off and padded to the back door in darkness where Ronnie now stood, nose to it, eager to get outside. She placed a restraining hand on his collar. She’d surprise whoever was there. They’d not bargained on her being home. With one hand still on his collar she turned the latch as quietly as possible holding onto it for a second, then yanked the door wide open in one swift movement. A dark figure froze on the path. Releasing Ronnie and wielding a luminous green chew-toy dumbbell high above her head, she yelled, ‘Get him, Ronnie!’ Ronnie hurtled outside legs flying, and jumped up at the intruder.
‘Down, Ronnie!’
She identified the voice in an instant.
‘Alex?’
‘Help! I’m being licked to death by your dog. I’m drowning in saliva.’
She marched outside. ‘Ronnie. Sit.’
Ronnie raced around his quarry before leaping on him again, paws on his chest, enjoying the game.
‘Ronnie, down!’
He dropped to his feet and backed off, tail wagging. Alex lifted his head from his crooked arms and stared up at her. ‘Hi.’
‘What are you doing here? I thought you were with Jacqueline?’
‘We returned over an hour ago and I came to do some first footing.’
‘First footing?’
‘It’s a Scottish tradition and good luck for the house if a stranger, well, technically a dark male, is the first to cross the threshold on New Year’s Day and for him to bring you coal, salt, shortbread, a black bun or a wee dram of whisky on New Years’ Day. I’ve not got any shortbread, salt or a black bun but I have brought you a piece of coal and this.’ He held up a whisky miniature. ‘Got it from a hotel room free bar. I was saving it for a special occasion.’
She couldn’t wipe the smile from her face. ‘I know what first footing is. I was brought up on Skye. You’d better come in before Ronnie thinks you’ve got a black edible ball for him.’
Alex stumbled inside, removed his shoes and presented the piece of coal to her with a sweeping bow. ‘Happy New Year.’
‘And to you too. How did you know I was in?’
‘I didn’t but your car is in the drive and there’s smoke coming out of your chimney so I took a wild guess.’
‘You could have gone to Eleanor’s.’
‘Ah, but I didn’t want to go to Eleanor’s. I heard Eleanor’s dad, Ted, belting out My Way at the top of his voice earlier and decided it was wise to give that particular party a wide berth. Besides, I wanted to come here.’ He gave a lopsided smile. ‘You want to share my very expensive bottle of whisky with me?’
‘Only if you think it’s a worthy occasion.’
‘Oh, it’s worthy enough. What did you plan on doing with that?’
He pointed at the green, plastic dumbbell in her hand. She gave it a squeak. Ronnie barked at the sound. ‘Batter you to death with it after my dog had chewed off your leg.’
‘Geez, you’re scary,’ he replied. ‘Especially in that outfit.’
She stroked the sleeve of the polka dot fluffy onesie. The Laila in her vanished in a flash. ‘True. I wouldn’t have scared off an actual robber.’
‘You might have. Seriously though, you shouldn’t have confronted me. If I had been a burglar or if I’d had a weapon, you could have been hurt.’ His face had taken on an expression of concern.
‘I had Ronnie. He really would have savaged you if you’d tried to harm me. He has a nose for bad people.’ She threw Ronnie the dumbbell which he happily caught and took off to one corner to chew noisily.
They moved into the sitting room where she pulled out two whisky tumblers from a cupboard. He poured equal measures of whisky into them. ‘To the new year,’ he said as they clinked glasses.
‘To the new year.’
They sipped and he let out an appreciative sigh. ‘Not bad.’
She nodded.
‘I didn’t mean to frighten you,’ he said. ‘I think you’re pretty secure up here. Especially with Ronnie.’
‘Funnily enough, the house makes me feel safe, like it’s watching over me. Oh dear. I sound wacky.’
‘No. I get it. Some houses have a friendly feel and this one definitely does. I don’t think mine’s the same. Yours is warmer, cosier and happier.’
She assumed it was because his home was only to be temporary. No one spent time making a place homely if they planned on moving. It was a blow he wouldn’t be staying the long term. She changed the subject. ‘How did your date go?’
‘Date? Oh, you mean Jacqueline? She scared the life out of me on that bike of hers. I thought we were going to come off on a few occasions. She’s a really interesting woman, and the bike event was cool, but I don’t think I’ll swap my Land Rover for a motorbike, ever.’
‘So, you seeing her again?’ She cursed herself for asking. Why did she want to know?
One eyebrow lifted in response. ‘Would it bother you if I did?’
She stared intently at her glass, wishing she hadn’t said anything.
‘Of course not. Just idle conversation.’ She finally replied. Ronnie chose that moment to squeak his toy endlessly, making any further conversation difficult. She didn’t reprimand or stop him. It gave her time to recover her composure.
‘That was no date. If it had been, it’d have been the only one I went on with her. She’s not my type,’ he said quietly once Ronnie had ceased chewing and the noise had abated.
‘Oh.’ Chloe couldn’t think of anything else to add.
‘She’s very independent and forthright. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy her company too, but I prefer quieter types.’ He stared at her for a moment.
She wasn’t sure if it was the combination of champagne and then the whisky, or the warmth of the log burner and the general feeling of well-being that rushed through her veins, but she looked him in the eye as he continued speaking.
‘This is probably the whisky talking or the several bottles of beer I drank before I came over to see if you were in, but do you fancy going out with my sister, Ashleigh, and her boy, and me tomorrow… I mean today? Ash is really easy to get along with and Charlie’s a nice kid. I know a really nice pub in the Peak District that has a superb lunch menu, and then we could visit Dovedale. It’s seriously impressive there. Good walks, great scenery. Ronnie would love it. You can even cross the river at one point on stepping stones. I doubt it’ll be too busy because it’s out of season and the first of January. I expect most folk will be nursing hangovers. What do you say?’
She swallowed hard. Her head was screaming at her to say no and stay at home out of the way of everyone, but she allowed the confident character, Laila, to take over. Her mouth opened, her lips parted and she said, ‘That would be lovely. Thank you.’
* * *
‘I don’t have anything to wear,’ she wailed, standing in her underwear. Every item of clothing she owned was piled on the bed, a jumble of black stretchy leggings, mishmash of jumpers and far too much denim. It was almost eleven o’clock and having faffed about putting on her makeup for far too long, she had left it too late to choose something to wear.
She snatched a pair of navy jeans from the top of the pile. They were a fraction too tight but she’d finally decided to wear them. She stretched them over her feet and calves and shimmied and jumped about, pogoing the
m over her hips until they were on, as tight as if they’d been sprayed onto her legs. She groaned. They were too tight. What had she been thinking of? And there was no way she was going to be able to get them back off without her face turning beetroot red through exertion. She sucked in her stomach and tugged at the button forcing it through the buttonhole. It would have to do. She’d take a safety pin in case it broke. She threw on a baby blue jumper that not only covered her belly but her bum, and then checked her reflection. The colour was more spring-like than mid-winter, but at least it didn’t make her look so sallow. Her wardrobe was sadly lacking in informal, smart clothes. Her usual uniform for writing consisted of either pyjamas, a onesie, or comfortable trousers with an elasticated waist. William had often been critical of her attire and it hadn’t taken long for her to come to the conclusion she looked dreadful in everything she owned. Once the weight had started piling on, she hid her frame in baggy jumpers and so the downward spiral had begun. She thought back to the beginning when William had loved her for who she was and had never commented on what she wore. What had happened to them? She’d allowed him to trample her feelings and crush what little confidence she had. It was her own fault the relationship had broken down. She ought to have made a stand. Georgia wouldn’t have let anyone dominate her. Talking to Sean at the bookshop and then to Alex had changed her. There’d been a subtle yet noticeable difference between the Chloe who spent every day shut away in her house in Appletree and the one who now lived at Sunny Meadow Barn. There was, as Jacqueline had suggested, another Chloe buried deep within her, who’d always been there but who hadn’t found a way to make herself heard. She was beginning to have a voice. Two men had expressed an interest in her, three if she counted Rob. William had made her believe nobody could ever want her. William had been wrong. It was heartening, or it would be, if only she could find an outfit that made her look more attractive and less dumpy.
