Coming Home to Jasmine Cottage

by Zara Stoneley

  ‘It does.’ She felt her fingers tighten round his, and the hollow feeling in her stomach grow. There was one last ghost she had to face, the most important place of all to visit. ‘Do you mind if we drive up to the house?’ Her legs felt weak, she’d feel safer in the car.

  ‘Of course.’ He pulled her tight against him, hugged her close. ‘I love so many things about you, you know. You’re gorgeous, clever, funny, but most of all you’re brave.’

  She tried to laugh, but it came out uneven. She didn’t feel brave. ‘Flatterer.’

  ‘But you’re rubbish at baking.’ He gave a dramatic sigh, the same one she’d heard from Maisie. ‘I suppose I can’t expect perfection. Though I might give you some lessons.’

  ‘Cheeky bugger! Don’t forget I’ve seen your baking attempts. You and Maisie looked like you’d had a flour fight last time you cooked together.’

  ‘You’ve got me.’ He grinned. ‘Oh well, I guess we have a future of takeaways ahead of us.’ He kissed the tip of her nose, and the little shiver brought out goosebumps on her arms, but warmed something deep inside her chest. A future ahead. ‘Ready?’

  ‘Ready.’ Or at least as ready as she’d ever be.

  Lucy stared out of the car window. Her childhood home was smaller than she’d remembered. The vast garden she’d seen in her mind reduced to an overgrown square of lawn, weed filled borders in place of the mass of colour she’d remembered. There was a neglected air about the place that her father would have never allowed. He liked everything tidy, organised. In order.

  It was unmistakeably the same house that had been in the newspaper report, but it looked different, more familiar in real life.

  And then she saw it, the For Sale sign that had fallen onto the ground, a bright red slash of ‘Sold’ across it. The house was empty. Her father was gone forever.

  ‘Do you want to get out?’

  She shook her head. ‘There’s no need.’ She stared at the upstairs window, her bedroom window, the one she’d spent hours looking out of. Watching the other children play, being prevented from joining them. Her gaze dropped to the downstairs, to the large bay window where once her piano had stood. Until he’d got rid of it, stopped her doing what she loved most. ‘I’m going to get a piano, when I’ve moved into Jasmine Cottage.’ The place was small, but she’d squeeze a piano in somehow.

  ‘Good.’

  ‘I don’t want to go to the churchyard, I don’t need to now.’ It would feel voyeuristic, wrong to see the graves of his wife and child, meaningless to look at his name on a headstone. ‘I know it was him.’

  Charlie squeezed her hand, but didn’t say anything.

  ‘He was never a proper dad – like you are to Maisie.’ She’d told him about her dad before, but she suddenly needed to explain, while they were here. Now. ‘He was just a man, a man who made a baby.’ Her eyes were damp and she knew there was a wobble in her voice.

  Her dad had never protected her, looked after her. He’d not been the man who’d celebrated her achievements – he’d been the one who always told her she had to try harder, she wasn’t good enough. He’d not been there to rub her bruises better, he’d been too busy complaining, telling Mum that she wasn’t even capable of bringing their daughter up properly.

  ‘I don’t think he ever even tried to find us when we left, even though Mum didn’t want him to. I mean it would have been awful if he had, but I think he just wrote us off, moved on. He was never going to admit that he’d failed was he? I never got that before, but I do now. I understand.’ She leaned in against Charlie’s comforting, warm body. A man who cared, who was solid. ‘If I’d have run away like Maisie did he wouldn’t have worried.’

  ‘You can’t know that.’ Charlie’s voice was soft. ‘Any parent would worry, would care.’

  ‘He wasn’t a normal parent, Charlie. He never cared. Me and mum were just belongings, not people he loved. He needed to control and manipulate us, and if he couldn’t.’ She paused. He hadn’t been able to with his new family, but she couldn’t go there, couldn’t dwell on something that might have been. She swallowed away the tightness in her throat. ‘We never shared a tree, anything. Whatever I loved he got rid of.’ Charlie hugged her even tighter.

  ‘You okay?’

  ‘I am now.’ Something inside her had lifted. She was, she would be, and when she got home (and it really was home) she’d be able to set her mother’s mind at rest as well. ‘Thanks for bringing me, Charlie.’

  There were no real memories here for her now; good or bad. The last ghost of her past had been laid to rest. There was nothing left in Stoneyvale that could cheer or hurt her. She smiled up at Charlie. ‘Shall we go home?’

  Chapter 23

  The beep was insistent. Going on and on. It was no longer the reversing tractor in Charlie’s dream, it was something real. He opened his eyes and reached out groping for the alarm clock and instead found a warm body.

  Lucy muttered in her sleep, then flung an arm across him and he knew he was smiling. They’d spent far too few nights together since the summer, when Maisie had come back into his life, but last night had been perfect. Waking up next to her on Christmas Day was special, even if, he glanced at the time, hell it was the middle of the night.

  The beep started again. It wasn’t an alarm clock, it was his phone.

  With a groan Charlie picked it up.

  ‘Morning.’ The cheery bellow made him cringe. ‘Got a bit of a problem with one of the cows.’ Except it sounded like coos. ‘Wouldn’t bother you if I didn’t need to, with it being Christmas Day and everything.’

  ‘No problem, no problem at all Mr Brownlow.’ He rolled out of bed and reached for his trousers as the farmer carried on a monologue about ‘the trouble with cows’. ‘I’ll be right there.’

  ‘What’s the matter?’ Lucy, who had now spread-eagled herself across the bed opened one eye and peered at him through her hair, her voice muffled and sleep-laden.

  ‘Nothing. Go back to sleep, I’ve got to go up to Brownlow’s.’

  ‘I’ll look after Maisie.’ She closed her eyes again and cuddled into the pillow that still had the indent of his head.

  ‘She’s not here.’ He chuckled softly and thought she’d never looked so beautiful. There was something about Lucy in bed, when she opened up, dropped the barriers. The chats they had, curled up in bed together, were the best they had.

  She started, and rolled onto her back, then stared at him as she woke up, and remembered. ‘Oh yeah, Josie. So,’ she sat up, fully awake now, ‘I can come with you.’

  ‘Do you know what time it is?’ He pulled a second sweater on. ‘It’s four o’clock in the morning, and you’ve told me anything before 7 a.m. doesn’t exist.’

  ‘It’s different. It’s Christmas.’

  ‘And it’s freezing.’

  ‘S’not a problem.’ She padded off naked towards the bathroom.

  ***

  ‘You’re clever aren’t you?’ Lucy slipped her arm through his, and moved in closer. ‘My hero.’

  Mr Brownlow chuckled. ‘Aye, he’s a clever one. That’s a good strong calf, that is.’

  Charlie had been relieved that the situation hadn’t been as bad as he’d feared. The calf had been stuck like a cork in a bottle, one of its forelegs bent back, but with a little bit of manoeuvring and a gentle pull it had slithered out onto the straw and soon been up on shaky legs.

  ‘Cuppa tea before you goes home?’

  The warmth of the kitchen hit them as soon as they walked in, and Mrs Brownlow grinned. ‘Bacon’s already on, you will stay for a quick bite won’t you?’ She cracked an egg into the pan without waiting for a reply. ‘And a Happy Christmas to both of you, cow alright is it?’

  ‘It’s grand.’ Mr Brownlow kicked his wellingtons off and sat down by the Aga, sticking his cold feet out in front of it.

  Charlie made an apologetic face at Lucy, this wasn’t exactly what he’d planned for their first Christmas morning together. Lovely as the Brownlow fami
ly were he’d had a lazy morning on their own in mind.

  Lucy grinned, and blew him a kiss. ‘Happy Christmas, Mrs Brownlow. That smells lovely, just what we need.’

  Right now, Charlie thought, it really wasn’t possible to love Lucy more. Josie had always hated the inconvenience of clients, even though she was a vet herself, but Lucy understood.

  ‘Oh call me Sarah, love. Black pudding?’

  ‘Happy Christmas, Miss.’ Lucy turned round to see Poppy, already dressed, clutching a black and white kitten. ‘Do you want to see my kitten, Miss Jacobs? It don’t look like a slug anymore, it went fluffy.’

  Mr Brownlow shook his head. ‘Now don’t go pestering love, Miss Jacobs is on holiday. Come here.’ She went over and climbed on his knee, as Sarah piled the breakfast on to large plates. If they ate all of that they wouldn’t need Christmas lunch.

  ‘You just eat what you want, love.’ She smiled at Charlie. ‘It’s a long time to lunch though and you need something to keep you warm.’

  An hour later, as they slipped and slid their way across the yard which had frozen over like an ice-rink, Charlie slipped his hand into Lucy’s and spun her round to face him just as they reached the front door. ‘Happy Christmas.’ She shrieked in surprise, nearly losing her balance and grabbed out for his arm, before sobering up at the look on his face.

  They studied each other for a moment. Making the most of the quiet stillness.

  The lights were on in the farmhouse, and soon Ed Wright would be out to milk his cows, but right now it seemed like it was just them. The world was theirs for the taking.

  ‘I do love you Lucy Jacobs.’ He tucked her hair behind her ear, ran his thumb over her cheekbone, loving the softness of her skin, the way her blue gaze locked with his.

  ‘I love you too, Charlie Davenport.’

  ‘You’re cold.’

  ‘I’m fine.’

  He pulled her close, wrapping his arms round her and breathing in the smell of her hair, enjoying the warmth of her body that fitted against his so perfectly. ‘Oh you’re more than fine.’

  She giggled then, a soft murmur of sound that he never wanted to be without. Then she pulled back slightly. ‘Maisie will be here soon.’

  ‘You don’t have to go.’ He wrapped his arms tighter around her waist, willing her to stay, but knowing he shouldn’t ask.

  ‘I do, I’ve got to sort the animals out and get ready. Pick me up at two o’clock?’

  ‘I didn’t mean that.’ He didn’t want her to feel that because Josie was on the scene, things had changed. He didn’t want the early morning magic to disappear.

  ‘I know. She might want to chat though, Charlie.’ Her voice was soft. ‘You don’t need me here, it will complicate things. Spend some time on your own with Maisie, it will be the only quiet time you get together today, just the two of you.’

  ‘Thanks for coming to the farm with me, it was nice.’

  ‘It was lovely.’ She rested her head against his chest again, and the sweet smell of her perfume played with his nostrils. ‘I’ve not seen a calf born before, and it was so cute.’ Then she pulled away reluctantly and this time he let her. ‘I really do need to go.’ Piper barked, and she laughed. ‘See, even Piper agrees.’ She stood on tiptoes and kissed him. ‘Happy Christmas, Charlie.’ Then she put a finger on his lips, in the same place she’d pressed her lips. ‘See you in a bit.’

  Lucy had only been gone ten minutes when Roo’s barks, followed by a rap on the door announced Maisie and Josie’s arrival. Maisie dived into the house, her cheeks flushed. Her arms full of toys. ‘Daddy look! I get two Christmases.’ She put the presents down, and gave him a hug before moving on to Roo. ‘Mummy, mummy come and see my room.’

  Josie followed reluctantly, not sure of her welcome, and they looked at each other for a moment before Charlie nodded. ‘Come in for a bit, there’s a jug of coffee on if you want a cup?’

  She shook her head, her auburn waves, the exact same shade as Maisie’s curls, swishing around her face. ‘I won’t stay, Mum and Dad will be expecting me back for sherry. They’ve got guests coming for pre-dinner drinks.’ The smile was apologetic, but they both knew that having a reason made this easier. ‘I’ll come in a minute poppet. You play while I talk to Daddy.’

  ‘I’m going to see Treacle, he’s in the utility room and he’s going to get sprouts today.’

  ‘I’m sorry I’ve been such a cow, Charlie.’ Josie sat down at the kitchen table, and took the mug of coffee he’d poured out anyway. ‘You don’t deserve it. You’ve never deserved all this …’ she waved a hand, ‘shit.’

  He sat down opposite her, not trusting himself to speak. Once upon a time he’d trusted Josie, now he didn’t know which way she was going to turn, what she had planned next. Lately when she’d been reasonable one day, like she had over the Christmas arrangements, she was nasty the next.

  ‘Thanks for letting me take Maisie to Mum and Dad’s last night.’

  ‘She’s your daughter too.’ He shrugged, trying not to let a bitter note creep in.

  ‘Maybe, but I’ve been a bit of a crap parent lately haven’t I?’ She held a staying hand up and gave a short, nervous laugh. ‘Don’t answer that.’ She took a gulp of the too-hot coffee, fixed her gaze on the table. ‘He doesn’t know.’

  A chill ran through Charlie at the unexpected words, and his fingers tightened round the handle of the mug, until the blood leached out leaving them white.

  ‘The one, the man I had a, well.’

  She didn’t have to explain what she meant. He knew all too well. The man who could be Maisie’s biological father. The man she’d had an affair with.

  ‘I’m making a hash of this, like I have of everything lately. He was married, it was stupid, a drunken … it didn’t mean anything, it was never meant to mean anything Charlie, it was just me trying to run away, burying my head in the sand. Look, I know you don’t want to hear all this, I know, I’m just being selfish again, trying to explain for my own sake.’ She pushed the coffee away and took a deep breath. ‘I’m just trying to say that I never told him I was pregnant, the only man who’s ever been her dad is you.’ She stood up. ‘I’m going abroad again in the New Year, it would be nice to see Maisie again before I go.’ There was a question in her eyes, hanging in the air. And now she did look up, look him in the eye.

  ‘Of course, she wants to see you.’ He had to say this. ‘But is it fair on her, you coming and going like this?’ You wanting to take her with you, he could have added, but daren’t. ‘Putting the job first?’ Which was a joke, seeing as she’d left him because she’d said he was married to his work.

  ‘It’s not just the job. Charlie, I’ve realised that I can’t just settle here, I’m crap at it, I’m just not the right person to be a wife or mother.’ Her gaze didn’t waver from his, but her hand was trembling. ‘You’re much better than me at this parenting stuff Charlie. I like what I’m doing out there, I want to travel. I know it’s selfish, but I do care about Maisie and I think she’s far better off here with you than with a hopeless mother like me.’

  He held his breath, not sure that this meant what he hoped it did.

  ‘One day, maybe all this will be out of my system and I’ll want to settle. Who knows?’ She shrugged her slim shoulders. ‘Then I’ll come here Charlie, and we can work it out between us. We can do what’s best for Maisie. I want her to grow up knowing who I am, I want to share her life, but …’ Josie took a step back. ‘I’ve written to my solicitor saying I want Maisie to be here with you, but us to have a shared arrangement so that I can see her when I can, and we can have equal time with her when I move back. She’ll talk to your solicitor and they can do whatever paperwork they have to. Is that okay?’

  Her voice was gentle, for a moment the old Josie was back, but all he could do was nod. He didn’t trust himself to say a word, the emotion would spill out, he’d be crying with relief.

  ‘We don’t need all this court case drama, do we?’

  ‘
No, Josie.’ He swallowed, tried to keep his voice steady. ‘We don’t.’

  ‘I’ll pop up and see her room,’ her voice was soft, ‘and then I’ll go. Mum will wonder where I’ve got to.’ She took a step, then stopped, only a couple of feet from Charlie.

  He looked at the woman he’d loved, hated and now hoped one day he could just like. There was the hint of a smile on her face, a hopeful, forgive me look that made him think instantly of Maisie. She’d inherited her mother’s hair, smile, the wistful look when something was just out of reach.

  ‘I am sorry about everything Charlie, truly.’

  He nodded, and for the first time in a mixed-up year he knew he could believe her.

  ‘I did love you Charlie, but we were never really right together were we?’ Her gaze flickered upwards. ‘But we did do one good thing.’

  ‘We did, she’s the best thing that ever happened to me Josie.’ His weakness, the person she could use to hurt him. But for some reason he felt he could say it now, know that the battle was over. At least he hoped it was, that he could trust his instincts.

  ‘I know. Happy Christmas, Charlie.’ She ran lightly up the spiral staircase and Charlie felt a strange sensation. A lightness. It took him a moment to work out what it was.

  Hope. Relief.

  Chapter 24

  ‘Want a hand, Mum?’ It seemed a bit strange to be in Elsie’s house for Christmas dinner, and it should have felt even odder seeing her mum bustling around the large kitchen, a tea-towel slung over her shoulder.

  But somehow, despite being here for such a short time, Trish looked completely at home. And she was singing.

  A lump formed in Lucy’s throat. It was a long distant memory now, but being here had stirred it up. Her mum had always hummed and sung as she cooked, in fact she’d often swept Lucy up into her arms and danced round the kitchen with her, stirring pots in passing. But that had been years ago. Before Dad had started to mete out his punishments if everything wasn’t just as he liked it. Before they’d fled the village and ended up in a horrible house, and cooking became a chore not a pleasure.