Remember Me at Willoughby Close (Return to Willoughby Close Book 4)

by Kate Hewitt

  She let out a slightly wobbly laugh that heartened Laura. She had not expected the intimidating Harriet Lang to be so real. “Oh, yes,” she continued. “I remember now. The difficult conversation. I did my best to avoid those. The schoolyard felt like the ninth circle of hell for a while.” Laura nodded in sympathy. She knew exactly how that felt. “But eventually I realised it was up to me to handle the conversations, to tell people where I was and how I felt about it.” She raised her eyebrows, her smile turning self-conscious. “I have no idea if any of that is helpful to you. If it’s not, you can tell me to shut it.”

  “No, it is,” Laura assured her. “I’ve been more or less existing in a fog for the last year, but I’m coming to realise it’s up to me to step out of it, into the light. Baby steps, admittedly, but still, I am moving in the right direction. I think.”

  “That’s really good to hear.” Harriet briefly laid a hand on her arm. “Let me know about the play date. And perhaps we can grab a coffee sometime?”

  “That would be lovely,” Laura said, meaning it. She really was coming on in life. Coffee with friends, drinks at the pub, and James, of course. Chantal would be thrilled.

  *

  “Hey.”

  Laura’s soft voice had James looking up from the literacy work he’d been marking, his stomach doing a little flip at the sight of her standing in the doorway of his classroom. It was nearly four o’clock, and the school had emptied out leaving only Dan Rhodes in his office and the cleaners mopping the school hall, the smell of the cleaning fluid they used lingering astringently in the air. Already dusk was drawing in and James thought he should turn the light on. He hadn’t quite realised he was sitting in the half-dark until Laura stepped into the room, out of the shadows.

  He’d done his best to be her friend these last few weeks, and he’d enjoyed the chats they’d had while trying not to freeze to death in the schoolyard. He’d been heartened to see how Laura had opened up, how humour had begun to replace wariness. Although, he realised, she was looking a little wary now.

  “Where’s Sam?” he asked.

  “Play date with Will Lang.”

  “That’s good. They’ve bonded over Minecraft.”

  “So it seems. I almost didn’t believe it at first. I can’t remember the last time Sam had a play date. Year Four, perhaps.”

  “Well, this is a new start, isn’t it?” James said with a smile. Why was she looking so nervous?

  “Yes.” She took a step closer to his desk, and then reached into the colourful cloth bag she brought to work every day. “I got you this, as a thank you. For being there for me, these last few weeks.” With a self-conscious smile she put a bottle of wine on his desk.

  James stared, unsure how he felt about the offering. It felt a little bit like payment for services rendered; did friends really have to give each other gifts just because you’d listened?

  “I hope that’s okay,” she said uncertainly, and he realised he should have spoken.

  “Of course it is, as long as you drink it with me,” he told her, and her eyes widened in alarmed surprise.

  “Oh, I…I don’t…”

  “Or we could just get a coffee,” James filled in easily, sensing the need to back off. “I’m done here. Do you have time or do you need to get back to Maggie?”

  “Maggie’s at art club, actually, so I’m at a bit of a loose end.”

  “Well, then. Tea on the Lea is calling our names.”

  She hesitated, and then gave a nod. “All right. That would be nice.”

  James stood up and reached for his jacket. “How’s Maggie, anyway?” he asked, as he had done nearly every day in the last two weeks.

  “She seems okay, not that she’d tell me in so many words. I’ve stopped hoping for some massive, heart-rending breakthrough and am just focusing on the baby steps.”

  “Sounds wise.”

  “Well, I suppose a little wisdom is a good thing to come by at my age.”

  Ah, the age thing again. Sometimes she seemed fixated. “You’re not that old, surely,” he commented, and she just shrugged. “How old are you?” he pressed. “Forty?”

  Laura grimaced. “Forty-one.”

  “You’ve still got your whole life in front of you.”

  “Doesn’t everyone?” she joked. “The rest of it, anyway. Although really Chantal says the same thing, but…it’s not exactly true, is it? I mean, at some point you absolutely don’t have your whole life in front of you. That’s a fact.” She eyed him almost defiantly; her words felt like a warning.

  “That’s true,” James agreed as he slipped his bag over his shoulder and they started walking out of the classroom. “But at forty-one I’d say you still have loads of things to look forward to.”

  “Maybe,” she allowed grudgingly. James considered that a win.

  They chatted about innocuous school stuff all the way to the teashop on the high street, which was mostly empty, save for a table of mums who eyed their entrance with avid speculation that didn’t bother James but made Laura blush the colour of beetroot.

  “Shall we sit in the back?” James murmured. Away from prying eyes.

  “So, I’m actually feeling a bit guilty,” Laura announced once they’d ordered their coffees.

  James raised his eyebrows, surprised by the look of steely determination in her direct gaze. “Guilty? About what?”

  “About the fact that you’ve been brilliant these last few weeks, asking about my children and my life and always listening to me moan—”

  “I wouldn’t call it moaning.”

  “Close enough.” Her lips curved wryly and his stomach flipped again. Did she know how lovely she was? How much he ached to skim the porcelain softness of her cheek, or tuck a tendril of dark hair behind her ear? The last few weeks had been wonderful, but they’d also possessed a certain agony, knowing he was only her friend, and that when it came to something more, he had to tread very carefully indeed.

  “Anyway,” Laura resumed, “I haven’t reciprocated at all. I have no idea how you’re doing, what your life is like, what’s tough about it. So.” She laid her hands flat on the table. “Hit me with it.”

  “Hit you with what, exactly?” He suddenly felt guarded, which was a little strange.

  “What’s hard in your life? What do you struggle with? What do you wish could change? And how can I help?” She let out an uncertain little laugh. “Because right now this friendship feels pretty one-sided, you know?”

  “Hmm.” He scrambled to think of something to say. “I’m not sure what to tell you.”

  Disappointment flashed across her features, and James had the cringing feeling that he’d hurt her. “Nothing’s going wrong?” she queried lightly. “Relationships, work, health…all of it pretty much perfect?”

  “Well, I do have a slightly tricky knee, from when I fell as a kid.” He meant it as a joke—sort of—but it fell flat. Laura just shook her head, and their coffees came, leaving James struggling to know how to fill the silence.

  He realised he’d liked being the rescuer, the one who could offer a listening ear, a shoulder to cry on. It had made him feel strong, the hero of the hour, an unusual feeling to be sure, and the knowledge that he’d liked it, that he’d wanted that, was a bit shaming. Laura was right. What kind of friendship was it if he stayed up on his squeaky white charger while she grovelled in the complicated mire and muck of life?

  “I had a break-up,” he said abruptly, “a few months before I moved to Wychwood. It was one of the reasons why I did.”

  Laura’s eyebrows rose as she sat back in her seat, sipped her coffee, and waited for more.

  “Her name was—is—Helen. We dated for three years. She broke up with me when I started talking about marriage.” This was a lot harder than he’d hoped it would be. He was over Helen—mostly—but he still didn’t like talking about her.

  Laura cocked her head, her gaze sweeping slowly over him. “Why did she break up with you?”

  “Well, I
think that would be fairly obvious.” He tried for a laugh, but it sounded brittle. “She didn’t want to marry me.”

  “But why not? Did she give a reason?”

  “Not really.” He glanced down at his barely touched coffee. “Just that it had been fun, but she didn’t see it going anywhere. I wasn’t adventurous enough, apparently.” But she’d only said that when he’d pressed her, desperate for her to give a reason that he could argue against. “Looking back, I think we were both in the relationship for convenience. You know, you hit thirty, and the thought of having to meet someone new is both tiring and terrifying.”

  Laura let out a little laugh. “Try feeling that way at forty. Or forty-one, to be precise.”

  Which gave him the perfect opportunity to turn the tables. “So you want to meet someone new?”

  “Nuh-uh.” Laura held up a hand. “We’re talking about you right now.”

  “Darn. I thought I was almost away there.”

  “Nope.” The smile she gave him was warm, lingering. Her eyes had flecks of gold in them that made him think of stars. “So you weren’t utterly heartbroken, then?”

  “No. Heart bruised, perhaps. I saw my older sister and brother getting married, having kids, and I wanted that. I still do.” A shadow passed across her face and he wondered if he’d just put his foot right in it. Did she think her age disqualified her somehow? Had he friend-zoned her without meaning to? “All I’m saying,” he explained a bit awkwardly, “is that I want to find the right woman. And it wasn’t Helen.”

  “Well, that makes sense,” Laura said, a bit quickly. “I mean, it’s understandable.” A slightly laden pause. “So what made you decide to move to Wychwood?” Clearly she wanted to stop talking about romance and right people, which was both disappointing and a bit of a relief. Honesty was easy to listen to, hard to speak. And James had a feeling Laura would be demanding more of it from him—which was a good thing, but also surprisingly scary.

  Chapter Twelve

  Laura schooled her expression into one of friendly interest as she waited for James’s response. It had been foolish to let his remark about wanting a family to sting. She wasn’t in the running. She knew that. And yet for some stupid reason she had to keep reminding herself of that very obvious fact.

  “Well, I was ready to get out of London,” he said as he rotated his coffee cup between his palms. He seemed far less at ease talking about himself than listening to her problems, but Laura supposed that was true for anyone. Vulnerability was hard. It left you raw. “And Wychwood is closer to my family. My older sister lives near Cheltenham, my younger in Monmouth, and then two still at home. All within shouting distance of here.”

  “Your parents have a farm, you said?”

  “Yes, near Shrewsbury. Cows and a few sheep.”

  “You didn’t want to follow your family’s footsteps and become a farmer yourself?” She spoke lightly, teasingly even, but James’s expression darkened briefly.

  “No. My brother does that.”

  Ah. There was tension there, clearly. It was interesting, and somehow reassuring, to know that his life wasn’t as uncomplicated as he’d first made it seem. It made her feel a little less of a wreck. “Older or younger?” she asked.

  “Older. And far better at farming than I ever was or could be. So.” He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes, and Laura felt a shaft of sympathy for him.

  “That sounds like a bit of a sore point.”

  He looked surprised; perhaps he’d thought he was better at hiding it. “Yes, I suppose it is. Remember when I told you I was bullied as a kid?”

  “Yes…”

  “Well, that was in part because I was what I will kindly call a late bloomer. Very late. And I couldn’t do all the farm chores my brother Jack could, who was a big, strapping lad, at least not until I was about sixteen or seventeen, and my father had more or less given up on me. So I suppose it has always been there between us—that I was somehow a failure, although my brother, who never went to university, feels like I’m a bit smarmy about being educated. I don’t think I am, but who knows? We both have chips on our shoulders, I guess.” He shrugged, as if to dismiss it all, but the movement, for James especially, seemed a bit brittle.

  “It’s hard to know if we can ever see another person clearly.” She’d meant to be talking about his family, but James was too sharp for that.

  “Who can’t you see clearly, Laura?”

  The way he said her name felt like fingers running over her skin. “Tim, I suppose,” she admitted. Talking about him with James still felt strange, like picking at a scab, unsure how red and raw the skin was underneath. How much she might bleed.

  “In what way?” James’s voice was gentle.

  “When someone dies,” Laura said slowly, feeling for the words, “it’s like you can’t criticise them anymore. It wouldn’t be fair. Or right.” She felt a lump forming in her throat and she did her best to speak past it. “And I understand that. It’s important not to speak ill of the dead, of course, and yet…it doesn’t always leave room for complicated feelings.” She took a sip of coffee, needing to claw back some composure. It felt good, being honest, but it also felt incredibly painful.

  “What were your complicated feelings for Tim?” James asked after a moment, when the threat of tears had thankfully passed.

  “I was angry with him,” she admitted.

  “Angry for dying?”

  “Yes, but also for things before that. Angry for dragging us out to Woodbridge to chase his dream, never mind anyone else’s.” She bit her lip, shocked by her own admission. She’d never even let herself think that before, and yet here she’d blurted it right out.

  “That’s understandable,” James murmured.

  “And more than that,” she continued in a rush. She felt as if she’d pulled her finger out of the hole in the dam and now all the messy truth was spilling out. “When his business never took off, I was angry about that. I blamed him, although I never said as much. I felt he should have realised it wasn’t going to work, that you can’t just plonk yourself down in a strange town and expect people to hire you. Trust you. But I never told him that, because I wanted to be encouraging, and so it wasn’t fair for me to resent him doing what I’d basically encouraged him to do.” She sighed, old sorrows sweeping through her. “We never actually argued, but we became distant. The last few months it felt as if we were just moving around one another.” Laura looked down at her lap, doing her best to stay composed.

  Silently James reached over and covered her hand with his own, and that was enough for a single, runaway tear to slip down her cheek. She dashed it away quickly.

  “Sorry,” she whispered.

  “Don’t be.”

  She made herself look up at him. “This was supposed to be about you telling me your troubles and once again I’ve gone and hogged all the drama.”

  “I don’t mind, Laura.” His gaze was warm, his hand still on hers, and Laura felt a yearning in her that was so strong it felt like a force field emanating from her fingertips. Then she caught the transfixed, open-mouthed stare of a school mum from the other side of the teashop and she yanked her hand away from James’s.

  “We are going to be providing the school gate gossip for the rest of the term.”

  James shrugged, as easy as ever. “So what if we did?”

  “Do you really want the parents of all your pupils thinking you’re having some—some thing with a woman ten years your senior?” She laughed to show the ludicrousness of it, which hurt her all the more, but she had to put it out there. She had to let James know that she realised what this was about. Friendship, and nothing more.

  “Nine,” James said quietly, “and I wouldn’t mind.”

  Her breath felt as if it were trapped in her lungs as she found herself staring at him, as transfixed as the woman across the room had been. His eyes were the colour of the Caribbean and she couldn’t look away. She didn’t want to.

  “James…”

/>   “I like you, Laura. A lot.” He gave an abashed smile as he spread his hands wide. “I’ve been meaning to give you space, because I know you’ve got a lot to deal with and you’re still grieving, but if you’re going to put me up against the wall I’ll say it. I like you. I’d ask you out on a date if I thought you’d say yes.”

  Her head spun and her stomach fizzed. She felt a million different things and she didn’t know what any of them were. “And you don’t think I would?”

  “I’ve suspected you wouldn’t, considering how cagey you get whenever the conversation drifts even remotely that way.”

  She glanced down at her coffee again, having no idea what to say. What to feel.

  James leaned forward, his voice dropping to a murmur. “Am I wrong?”

  Once again she made herself look up at him. “I…I don’t know. There’s a lot to consider.”

  “I know.”

  “But you’ve known all along how insanely gorgeous I think you are,” she couldn’t resist saying, managing a smile. “And in the last few weeks I’ve learned how kind and caring you are, as well.” She drew in a shuddery breath, hardly able to believe she was willing to admit this much. Risk this much. “Altogether it’s a pretty tempting combination, I have to say.”

  James’s gaze blazed into hers as his mouth quirked in a small, wry smile. “That’s very good to hear.”

  “I’m not a good bet, James,” she felt compelled to warn him. “Even for a date. I haven’t dated in nearly twenty years. I don’t even know how it’s done anymore.”

  “I’m no expert, but I’d say it’s about time you went on one, then.”

  She shook her head slowly. “You make it sound so easy.”

  “Can’t it be?”

  “I don’t know,” she said honestly. “I really don’t.”

  “Well, we could start with a date, and see how it goes from there. Low risk, then.”

  Her heart bumped and she pressed one hand to her chest. “That suggestion actually terrifies me.”

  “Hence why I haven’t actually asked you out yet. Officially.” His smile was wry but his eyes looked sad. “I don’t want to pressure you, Laura. That’s the last thing I want right now.”