Sunshine and Sweet Peas in Nightingale Square

by Heidi Swain

  I swallowed and took a deep breath, forcing myself to think of my little home and the life I was carving out for myself with the help of my new friends. I knew I was lucky to be living in Nightingale Square. I was more settled than I could ever have imagined possible and surprisingly thankful for the neighbours I had initially planned to distance myself from, but now it was Christmas, and Christmas was capable of doing funny things to even the most sensible of folk when they found themselves all alone in a king-size bed and wondering what might have been.

  ‘Look who I’ve found!’ Tom called out as we crossed the café threshold, the bell above the door enthusiastically announcing our arrival.

  ‘Kate!’ squealed Jemma, rushing through from the kitchen and giving me a smile I wasn’t sure she would have thought I deserved had she been privy to my earlier thoughts.

  Her hands were covered in bubbles and she hastily dried them on her cupcake-patterned apron before pulling me into a tight hug.

  ‘God, I’ve missed you,’ she said, stepping back to scrutinise my complexion just as Tom had done.

  This was something I knew I was going to get a lot and I was pleased I had had the foresight to pack my blusher and highlighter. An outwardly healthy, rosy glow was guaranteed courtesy of the contents of my make-up bag, even if I was feeling rather wrecked underneath.

  ‘You look well,’ Jemma nodded. There was the same edge of relief in her tone that had crept into Tom’s. ‘Doesn’t she look well, Tom?’

  ‘She does,’ he agreed.

  ‘I feel well,’ I told them both, doing my best to sound convincing as I breathed in a lungful of the spicy cinnamon-scented air.

  Physically I was tip-top and they didn’t need to know about the turmoil that still bounced about in my head as soon as I was quiet and still for more than a minute.

  ‘And I’m looking forward to a fun-filled family Christmas.’

  Tom rolled his eyes.

  ‘More bullshit,’ he smiled, ‘but as I’m sure you will have worked out, Mum has really pulled out the stops for this one.’

  ‘That she has,’ Jemma sighed, her eyes never leaving my face. ‘Personally,’ she added, sounding more than a little concerned, ‘I can’t help thinking she might have pulled out one stop too many.’

  The second Lizzie appeared through the beaded curtain the atmosphere returned to what it had been before, but Jemma’s words loitered uncomfortably in my head and I hoped Mum hadn’t gone too overboard in her efforts to try and make me enjoy my few days at home. I wasn’t sure I had the energy to keep a grin in place for that long without looking manic.

  ‘Hello, Lizzie,’ I smiled. ‘Wow, you look amazing. Are you going somewhere special?’

  ‘Ben and I are having a night out in Peterborough,’ she explained as she smoothed down the skirt of her holly and mistletoe-patterned dress. ‘It’s been ages since we went out on a proper date.’

  ‘Well, enjoy yourselves,’ said Jemma, ‘and don’t worry about rushing down in the morning because Angela has promised to come in and cover the early rush.’

  ‘Fantastic,’ said her friend as she pulled on her coat, her red curls bouncing. ‘I’m looking forward to this so much. It’s important to give the old ball and chain some attention every now and again, isn’t it?’ she added, wrinkling her nose. ‘Otherwise things can go a bit stale.’

  The words had left her mouth before she remembered I was soon to be divorced and that my own ‘ball and chain’ had surpassed stale and was now completely redundant.

  ‘Oh God, I’m so sorry, Kate,’ she mumbled, her cheeks flushing as red as her vibrant hair.

  Thankfully her awkward apology was cut short by her partner Ben’s arrival.

  ‘I’ll walk with you to the car,’ said Tom, hastily ushering the pair towards the door. ‘I need to nip back to the office for something.’

  ‘Well, don’t be long,’ Jemma called after him. ‘We have to pick the kids up from your mum and dad’s soon and I’m sure Kate can’t wait to get settled into her old room.’

  Once everyone had gone I followed her into the kitchen so we could carry on chatting while she finished tidying away for the day.

  ‘I’m so sorry about what Lizzie said.’ She blushed, her eyes firmly fixed on the washing-up bowl.

  ‘It’s fine.’

  ‘She just forgot—’

  ‘Jemma,’ I cut in, ‘it’s fine. Honestly.’

  ‘OK,’ she nodded.

  ‘So, come on then,’ I said, keen to move the conversation on, ‘tell me what Mum’s been up to. She hasn’t got a string of eligible, local bachelors lined up for me to choose from, has she? Or signed me up for the next series of First Dates?’

  Urbane relationship humour had apparently become my default setting. Just to prove that I really was beyond caring about what had happened, I joked about my almost single status, and I might have been pulling the wool over Jemma’s eyes by carrying on so flippantly, but I wasn’t really fooling myself.

  ‘No,’ said Jemma, sounding surprisingly more guarded than I would have expected, ‘nothing quite like that.’

  ‘Well, that’s a relief,’ I said brightly. ‘I might be nearly single again, but I’m not ready to leap into the rigours of another relationship just yet.’

  Why was I babbling on? Why was I contradicting my ‘one true love’ conviction? I knew I would never find love again, so why was I going overboard to suggest otherwise?

  ‘I’m enjoying my “me-time” too much,’ I added inanely for good measure, my shrill voice gradually trailing off along with my enthusiasm.

  ‘But do you miss David?’ Jemma blurted out, still staring at the sink. ‘Even after what he did, do you still have feelings for him?’

  Her line of questioning was completely unexpected and I felt my heart contract, the cruel band David’s deception had wrapped around it tightening its grip once again. There had been moments when I had almost got used to existing with it in situ, but Jemma’s inquisition was a painful reminder that it was still there, still waiting to make its presence felt when stretched even just a little too far.

  ‘Of course I miss him,’ I said, the words catching in my throat.

  ‘But would you have him back? If he was truly sorry, would you try again?’

  This was exactly the sort of moment when I wished I had shared the full details of everything that had gone on. If Jemma had known it all she would never have asked.

  ‘He is truly sorry,’ I told her, feeling nettled. ‘He’s told me that a million times, but his being sorry won’t stop him making the same mistake again, will it? I mean, you have met David, haven’t you, Jemma?’ I went on, sticking to the ladykiller thread I had adopted when discussing the situation with anyone. ‘We are talking about the same not-quite-tamed Lothario I married a few years ago, aren’t we?’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘I shouldn’t have said anything.’

  ‘It’s all right,’ I told her, even though it wasn’t. ‘You’re just a romantic at heart, like I used to be. You want everyone to find their happy ever after, but unfortunately, I haven’t been as lucky as you. My Prince Charming turned out to be just a slightly older frog after all.’

  Christmas Eve, Christmas Day and even Boxing Day all thankfully passed without incident and I knew that my initial pang of jealousy towards Jemma really was nothing more than a sign that my emotions were waking back up. When my mother’s well-meaning efforts to jolly me along and feed me up got too much I took myself off for bracing walks around the town and spent a lot of time thinking about Nightingale Square and what everyone there was doing. In truth, I was itching to get back.

  I’d left strict instructions for Lisa to call me if I hadn’t appeared by the twenty-ninth on the pretence of some trumped-up household emergency, a burst water pipe or the like, which would smooth the way for me to leave Wynbridge without a fuss. However, on the evening of the twenty-seventh, just as I was all set to tumble into a turkey-curry-induced stupor, I realised
I should have told her to ring far sooner.

  ‘You do know your mother means well, don’t you, Kate?’ my father panicked me by saying as we cleared away the dinner dishes together. ‘And that she loves you very much.’

  ‘Oh Dad,’ I groaned. ‘Are you going to tell me what she’s done? I know there’s something.’

  Earlier that day she had cornered me in the kitchen and subjected me to a barrage of questions which weren’t all that dissimilar to the ones Jemma had asked the evening I arrived. Dad opened his mouth to enlighten me, but the doorbell snatched his words away.

  ‘I’ll get it,’ said Mum, drifting down the stairs in a heady cloud of Dior and wearing a dress I hadn’t seen before.

  ‘No,’ I said, ‘I will.’

  The solid silhouette of my soon-to-be ex-husband was unmistakable and as I reached to open the door, I cursed my traitorous heart as it began banging away in my chest in much the same way as it had that very first day our paths had crossed.

  ‘Kate,’ David gasped, his blue eyes flying wide open and the colour draining from his face when he emerged from behind the gargantuan festive floral centrepiece he was holding out in front of him. ‘I had no idea.’

  He had never been able to lie, especially when caught off guard, and I had no reason to believe he had been given any inkling that I was going to be there. This was my mother’s doing, although why he would have accepted her dubious invitation to visit was beyond me.

  ‘David,’ I sighed, opening the door a little further so he could step around me and inside, ‘likewise.’

  The familiar scent of his aftershave almost took my breath away as he brushed by and I momentarily closed my eyes, allowing myself to drink him in. For some inexplicable reason my mother had decided to roll the dice in my game of life and send my head and my heart straight back to where they had been in the summer.

  I had no idea why she had done it, but I knew that both Jemma and Dad were privy to her meddling and felt just as furious with them, for not putting a stop to it, as I was with her. Yet again I found myself wishing that I had told them the whole story as to what had gone on between David and me.

  ‘David,’ said my mother, looking anxiously from him to me, ‘how very lovely to see you.’

  Suddenly she didn’t look quite so sure of herself and I hoped she had registered the chaos she had caused, even if she did ‘mean well’, as Dad and everyone else kept suggesting.

  ‘These are for you,’ David stammered, holding out the flowers towards her with hands that didn’t appear to be all that steady.

  ‘Thank you,’ she smiled. ‘How beautiful. Aren’t they beautiful, Kate?’

  ‘What are you doing here, David?’ I demanded.

  I was quite happy to dispense with the niceties and move things along.

  ‘I . . .’ he began, shoving his hands deep in his pockets, ‘well. I was invited.’

  ‘Why was he invited, Mum?’

  ‘I thought it would be nice for us all to be together,’ she said, biting her lip. ‘It’s Christmas, after all.’

  I wondered how the infant Jesus would feel about the interfering that went on around the world on the excuse of it being his birthday.

  ‘I had no idea you were going to be here, Kate,’ David said quickly. ‘I would never have agreed to come if I had known.’

  ‘So why did you agree?’

  ‘I wanted to apologise,’ he swallowed. ‘I wanted to explain to your parents in person . . .’

  ‘But why did you feel as though you had to?’ I asked with a shrug. ‘You aren’t—’ I stopped to correct myself. ‘You weren’t married to my parents. You were married to me and you’ve told me on more than one occasion how and why you couldn’t keep your trousers zipped. Or are you here to tell them everything else?’

  I didn’t usually give my tongue an opportunity to run away with itself. Given the dangerous nature of what it could blurt out, I had kept it in check for months, but the sight of David standing in my parents’ living room had a frighteningly detrimental impact on my ability to keep it buttoned.

  ‘Kate!’

  This was from my father and it stopped me in my tracks. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath as the ground swayed a little beneath my feet. I didn’t need a living and breathing reminder of what I had thrown away. A top-up of the guilt tank or an extra opportunity to think about what I had wasted really wasn’t required. I was more than capable of conjuring both myself, but for some mad reason Mum had seen fit to supply me with them anyway.

  ‘I’m going to the pub,’ I snapped, snatching up my bag and forcing myself not to knock her over the head with it. ‘Merry Christmas, David.’

  Chapter 8

  Far from being the peaceful sanctuary I had hoped for, The Mermaid was heaving with post-Christmas revellers all sporting new chunky knitwear, but I managed to slip in under the radar and bagged myself a table out of view of the door. I sat with my back to the jovial crowd, nursing a glass of wine and trying to collate my scattered thoughts.

  Next year, I vowed as I took a long and nerve-settling sip, I would happily run the risk of upsetting my family and follow my gut as well as my heart. Next year I would be celebrating Christmas with Lisa and Heather and everyone else in Nightingale Square.

  ‘Kate?’

  The hairs on the back of my neck stood to attention.

  ‘What?’

  I refused to turn around.

  ‘I’m so sorry.’

  ‘You know, had I thought of it sooner, I would have had that printed on a T-shirt and sent to you via Santa.’

  ‘Can I sit down?’

  I shrugged.

  ‘Your mum really hadn’t told me that you were going to be there, you know.’

  ‘But I daresay you worked it out anyway, David, didn’t you?’ I said, swallowing down a mouthful of wine.

  He didn’t say anything.

  ‘But it makes no difference to me.’ I shrugged. ‘If you want to spend the holidays with my family then go ahead. I’m leaving in the morning, so you can have my room if you like.’

  ‘Kate, please don’t be like that.’

  ‘Well, how do you expect me to be?’

  ‘Not like this,’ he said, sounding infuriatingly bewildered. ‘When you left in October I thought we were OK. I thought we had at least parted on friendly terms.’

  We had really. There had been no destroying of possessions or prawns in the curtain poles, so I could hardly dismiss his confusion. However, I had assumed that our courteous parting had been final, or failing that, our last for at least a good long while. But now, just weeks later, here he was, smelling delicious and looking as lovely as ever.

  ‘Friendly or not,’ I snapped, ‘that’s no justification for turning up to ruin my Christmas, is it?’

  ‘It wasn’t my intention to ruin anything,’ he sighed.

  ‘Of course,’ I said, slapping my hand against my forehead. ‘I was forgetting, you came back to spill the sordid beans, didn’t you? Were you really planning on telling my parents everything?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ He shrugged. ‘Probably not.’

  ‘So, you were lying, again,’ I sniffed.

  ‘No,’ he said, finally sitting in the chair opposite mine. ‘I was just so surprised to see you that I ended up saying the first thing that came into my head.’

  ‘A lie.’

  ‘It’s been agony not seeing you,’ he went on, ignoring my scathing monosyllabic response. ‘Not being able to even talk to you on the phone has been torture.’

  ‘Has it?’ I asked, hating myself for letting the words escape. Hating the fact that I still cared.

  ‘It has,’ he said. ‘It’s been killing me, Kate.’

  I was annoyingly pleased that he had found it so difficult to keep his distance. I had been thinking he hadn’t struggled with my terms at all, so it was good to know I had actually left a mark on his heart that in some way matched the depth of the one he had carved into mine.

  ‘I’ve be
en trying to break that solicitor of yours,’ he admitted when I didn’t say anything, ‘but she won’t crack. I still don’t know where you’ve moved to.’

  I drank another mouthful of wine, eager to banish all thoughts of the many seductive tactics in his arsenal that he could have called upon to break down her defences, and reminded myself that she was a professional woman, a woman of principle with firm morals.

  ‘And there’s absolutely no reason why you should,’ I said, draining the glass and putting it back down on the table.

  ‘I miss you, Kate.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘Do you miss me?’

  Why did everyone keep asking me that?

  ‘Of course I miss you,’ I bit back. ‘You’ve been a part of my life for the last goodness knows how many years and now you’re not there.’

  David looked encouraged by my admission and I quickly backtracked lest he get the wrong idea.

  ‘But then I also miss the espresso machine,’ I told him, ‘and those sugar-coated biscuits from Fortnum’s.’

  ‘You can order those things online,’ he said, sliding his hand across the table until the tips of his fingers touched mine. ‘You can replace both of those things easily enough, but you can’t replace us.’

  I sat back and put my hands in my lap.

  ‘I have no desire to replace us,’ I said starchily. ‘Or even to pick up the pieces of what’s left of us. You can’t mend what’s been broken, David.’

  ‘But you can,’ he said. His voice was eager as his eyes searched out mine. ‘You can glue things back together and make them even stronger than they were before, if you really want to.’

  The wine was turning my thoughts to mush and there was a tiny but determined voice in my head telling me I should at least give that suggestion a few minutes’ consideration. I shouldn’t dismiss the idea without turning it over first.

  ‘We could create a new bond,’ he said temptingly. ‘A bond so strong, that this time it couldn’t possibly be broken.’

  ‘We’re not talking about some piece of lustreware you’re having restored for a client,’ I sniffed, trying not to get carried away with the vision of us renewing our vows on some far-flung beach.