41
A very quiet Sunday followed the somewhat raucous end to the hen and stag parties the night before.
‘I’m never drinking again,’ said Alex, clutching his head and pushing away the plate of bacon butties that Will had made. ‘What have you done to me?’
Skye agreed with him and would have said so if she had the power of speech. She had only just managed to make it downstairs to the kitchen where she had found a family brunch far less lively than normal.
Rose on the other hand, was positively buoyant compared to the other partygoers. ‘It’s so sad that none of you can handle your drink,’ she told them, with a wicked laugh. ‘Now, what about some hair of the dog?’ she added, producing a vodka bottle from one of the nearby cupboards.
A collective groan came from the table. Even Will was quiet. Although perhaps that was because she might have hurt him when she had slid down the banister into him, thought Skye. But despite her inner mortification at her behaviour, she couldn’t help but smile. What an evening it had been. Despite the hangover, she had had such fun. They were friends now, she knew. What had Annie called them at some point? Her squad.
It was the first time that Skye had had friends of her own for as long as she could remember and she liked it.
A large moan came from the kitchen steps and they all looked up to see Mick staggering down the stairs, holding his head.
‘Welcome back!’ cried Rose, the volume of which made everyone else groan.
‘You missed all the fun,’ Sam told him, clutching his head as he spoke.
Mick blew out a long sigh as he sank onto one of the comfy chairs next to the fireplace. ‘How much did I have to drink last night?’ he asked.
‘We don’t know,’ Will told him. ‘You disappeared around ten o’clock with that barmaid.’
Mick groaned. ‘Why did you let me do that?’
‘I bet my hangover’s worse than yours,’ Alex told him.
‘I doubt that, mate,’ said Mick, covering his face. ‘I bloody proposed to her, apparently.’
That made everyone’s eyes click open.
‘You didn’t!’ said Annie, staring across the table at him with bloodshot eyes.
‘I did, love. She’s got me on her bloody phone camera and all.’
‘If you don’t want to marry her, don’t,’ said Sam, pouring himself another cup of coffee.
‘I don’t mind,’ said Mick, with a shrug of his bony shoulders. ‘She seems quite nice. I haven’t married a country girl before. Maybe fourth time’s a charm, eh?’
Skye looked at Will and they both exchanged a smile. It seemed that there might be another wedding after Annie and Sam’s.
In the meantime, there was so much to do. With the wedding only a couple of weeks away, everyone was helping out. It turned out that Arthur had beautiful handwriting and was therefore entrusted to write out all the table place cards. Rose was organising the church flowers, which were being kindly donated by the local WI ladies. She was also making sure that the wedding cakes were decorated and ready. Eleanor and Megan were working wonders with the jam jars and empty wine bottles. The sitting room was gradually filling up each passing day with decorations and sprayed branches and a huge bulk order of cheap white fairy lights.
Now that the expensive pipe work was finally finished, Sam, Tom and Will could replace and level the paving slabs from the patio to rebuild the terrace along with the pergola that Tom had made the previous summer. The large pergola was then wrapped in fairy lights, as were the willow tree and the picket fences along either side of the driveway. They also wrapped each of the windows at the front, the double doors and the large pillars on either side of them in the same lights.
In the ballroom, Alex’s decorators had finished plastering and repainting and he had helped Skye hang the refurbished paintings back in their rightful places. With the floorboards now polished, the whole place sparkled.
‘This is quite wonderful,’ Arthur had told Skye when he had seen the finished room for the first time. ‘It hasn’t looked like this for a very long time.’
‘I agree,’ said Rose, looking quite teary. ‘It’s like stepping back in time.’
Arthur walked up to study some of the paintings. ‘I’d forgotten,’ he murmured, staring at one painting for far longer than the rest.
Skye and Rose joined him. It was one of the smallest canvases and was slightly different to the others. It still showed a country scene of a river and fields beyond, but as Skye had gently swept away the dirt and grime, she had realised that the artist had painted two little boys into the middle of the landscape, paddling their feet in the river.
Rose reached out to squeeze Arthur’s arm and he patted her hand in response.
With a heavy sigh, he gave Annie a soft smile. ‘I’d better get back to my card writing, otherwise I’ll never get those Christmas cards out in time.’
As he left the room, Rose and Skye remained, still looking at the painting.
‘Do you know who painted this?’ asked Rose.
Skye shook her head. ‘There was no signature.’
‘It was Sam and Will’s mother.’
Skye was surprised, but as she looked at the painting more closely she could now see that the two little boys, the smaller one blonde and the older one dark, were indeed Sam and Will.
‘I had no idea,’ she said. ‘What a good painter she was.’
‘I think even the boys have forgotten,’ said Rose, with a sad smile.
Skye hesitated before she spoke. ‘Can I ask you something? Was it a happy marriage?’
‘Oh yes,’ said Rose, nodding. ‘I’ve never seen two people more in love than Edward and Isabel. And they were wonderful parents.’ Her face clouded over. ‘Of course, there’s always someone jealous of people being as happy as they were.’
Skye looked at her. ‘What do you mean?’
Rose sighed. ‘One of Edward’s friends always had a crush on Isabel. Ended up taking it too far at one of our parties.’
‘Too far?’
‘He started off trying to kiss her and then when she wouldn’t respond he tried to take things even further. Thankfully Edward found them in time and pummelled him into the ground. Dreadful man even tried to come to their funeral a few weeks afterwards, but I wasn’t having any of that. I got Bert to throw him out. He was quite the he-man in those days.’ Rose shook her head. ‘I don’t know why I’m thinking about all of this now. Perhaps I’m just sad that they’re not here to see the wedding.’
Rose gave Skye a sad smile before drawing herself up straight once more and heading out of the ballroom.
Skye stood in front of the painting for a while longer, realising that she had to tell Will the truth about his mother. The perfect time would be one of the evenings that they were now spending at the lodge. But in the end, she decided to tell him in the ballroom after dinner with the excuse of showing him how good it looked with all the paintings rehung.
Standing there on their own, she finally plucked up the courage to tell him Rose’s story.
‘I’m sorry,’ she told him. ‘I thought you should know.’
‘So I was wrong,’ he said, in a dull tone after a short silence.
‘You were young,’ she reminded him. ‘You weren’t to know.’
‘All these years…’ His voice drifted away.
‘You can’t change the past,’ she said. ‘But perhaps you can view it differently. There’s something else.’ She took him over to the painting. ‘Your mum painted this. And she put you and your brother right in the middle of it. I think that tells you something, don’t you?’
‘She loved us.’ His voice cracked as he spoke.
Skye nodded. ‘Yes, she did.’
She left him alone in the ballroom, deep in thought. As she headed down the corridor of the west wing, her phone bleeped with a text from Jamie, suggesting a time for their drink. But as Skye stared at the screen, she realised that his eyes weren’t blue enough. His hair wasn’t messy eno
ugh. His shoulders not as wide. Nor his humour so snappy and quick.
In short, he wasn’t Will.
She knew then and there that she had to cancel the date with Jamie. It wasn’t fair on him.
She had somehow developed a crush on Will which would make staying in the lodge incredibly awkward. Not for Will, of course. He was probably so used to women having crushes on him that it was an everyday occurrence.
She berated herself. This was awful. She knew that she had begun to get too fond of him. Way too fond. But it was as if Willow Tree Hall had cast some kind of spell over her and she couldn’t fight it.
Perhaps it was best that the wedding was getting closer by the day. Because then she could finally leave and take her confused feelings with her.
42
Skye had been so busy with the wedding and decorating the lodge that it wasn’t until Annie hung a Christmas wreath on the door that she realised how quickly time was moving on.
‘Tis the season to be jolly,’ said Annie, stirring the huge bowl of ingredients that would become gingerbread.
‘And for mistletoe,’ added Sam, kissing her on the cheek before dipping his finger into the mixing bowl, which resulted in a smack with a wooden spoon.
Skye placed her mug in the dishwasher, briefly thinking about Will and mistletoe before silently scolding herself for doing so.
But the onset of Christmas spirit everywhere didn’t help. Suddenly everything was twinkly and romantic. The mornings turned frosty. The leaves crackled underfoot. The stars seemed even brighter than normal. Then the Christmas spirit was really ramped up.
‘This is so lovely,’ said Annie, as Will and Sam pushed a huge tree into the entrance hall. ‘Last year this was to cover all the bare walls during the renovation. This year we can go massive.’
‘We won’t get a bigger tree in here,’ moaned Will, trying to manoeuvre the huge tree upright.
‘This is exactly the same size as last year’s,’ said Sam, pushing from the other side.
‘But we’re going to need one in the drawing room as well. Oh, and maybe a small one in the kitchen as we spend so much time in there.’ Annie clapped her hands together with glee. ‘And you know what Christmas means?’
‘A day off?’ said Sam, holding on to the tree with one hand to pull his fiancée close with the other.
‘Our wedding’s nearly here,’ she murmured before they embraced.
Will rolled his eyes. ‘Can we secure the tree before it falls down and kills us all?’ he said.
The happy couple pulled apart briefly with a knowing smile.
As Annie headed across the entrance hall, she smiled at Skye. ‘And you two must have a tree as well,’ she announced.
‘Us two?’ stammered Skye.
‘In the lodge,’ said Annie, turning around to call across the large room. ‘Will! Have you cut down a tree for the lodge?’
‘As ordered, ma’am.’
‘But we haven’t got room,’ said Skye, feeling her cheeks glowing with embarrassment.
‘Well, you’ll just have to cosy up a bit closer,’ murmured Annie, a smile playing on her lips as she disappeared into the west wing.
Skye was still thinking about Annie’s words as she walked down to the lodge later.
The weather was much colder and she was pleased that Will was already there and had lit the fire in the hearth. As she stepped inside, she was aware of the crackle of logs on the fire. As well as the smell of pine.
As she shrugged off her coat, she looked at the five-foot pine tree that had been placed in the corner of the room between the armchair and fireplace.
‘Don’t shoot the forester!’ said Will, holding his palms up. ‘When Annie’s in one of her moods, she’s very hard to say no to.’
Skye pretended to be cross, but her heart wasn’t in it. The tree looked perfect in the corner. It was where she had always imagined it would be.
‘It hasn’t got anything living in it, has it?’ she asked, having only ever had artificial trees.
Will shook his head. ‘Don’t panic. I already checked.’
‘I notice that you haven’t decorated it,’ she said, in a mocking tone.
‘You must be joking,’ said Will, slumping onto the armchair. ‘Decoration is your department. I’m just the axe-tree-murderer. So what do you think?’
‘It’ll do,’ said Skye, in a nonchalant tone. Seeing Will’s injured expression, she broke into a smile. ‘It’s lovely,’ she told him. ‘I’ll go and find my decorations. They must be in the trailer somewhere.’
‘I’ll pour us a glass of wine to ease the pain.’
As Skye began to rummage through the box she had collected from the Airstream, Will told her about his busy day helping out around the estate, which was still picking up the pieces after the storm.
‘Poor old Reg in the village is still having problems with his guttering, so I’ve been up a ladder most of the afternoon and I’ve got to go back tomorrow.’
The fire in the hearth crackled as she began to fix fairy lights on the branches.
Will leant back against the new cushion covers that Skye had made. ‘I was trying to make small talk and asked him his plans for Christmas. He told me his sons were both abroad and unable to make it back.’
Skye looked down at a gold bauble she was holding. ‘It’s a tough time,’ she said. ‘We always celebrated Christmas with Norman, but I’m not sure he would have done if we hadn’t had been living with him. What about friends? Do you think Reg has an active social life? Church? Clubs?’
‘I don’t think he goes clubbing.’ Will threw her a smirk over his wine glass.
Skye laughed. ‘You know what I mean.’
Will’s smile faded. ‘No, I don’t think he does.’
There was a long silence with only the sound of the logs crackling in the fireplace.
Skye picked up another bauble from the box and watched it glisten in the light. ‘It’s hard to celebrate Christmas on your own. There were some years when it was just me and Summer when Maggie hadn’t come home from a party.’
Will looked shocked. ‘How old were you?’
Skye gave a shrug. ‘Eleven, maybe twelve.’
‘That’s awful.’
Skye shook her head to dismiss the bad memories. ‘What I’m saying is that Christmas can be pretty hard for some people. It might be worth asking if he’ll be okay.’
A smile was playing on Will’s lips. ‘So I’m going to be like Father Christmas, is that what you’re saying?’
‘It would make a change from your usual Grinch-like attitude,’ she said, spinning round to hang the bauble on the tree.
‘As if I haven’t got enough on my plate,’ she heard him moan. But she had learnt by now that the uncaring, cool head didn’t necessarily correlate with the kind man beneath the mask.
Once the tree was decorated, Skye sat down on the sofa with a satisfied sigh.
‘Not bad,’ said Will, nodding his approval.
Skye checked the tree one last time before picking up some wire that she needed to twist around the branches for the wedding.
‘You still working?’ asked Will. ‘You should charge Annie overtime.’
Skye smiled as she continued to work with the wire. ‘I don’t mind. Believe it or not, I find it pretty relaxing.’
‘Have you always been good at stuff like this?’ he asked.
Skye nodded. ‘I guess so. That’s why I used to like sketching. I used to come home from an extra long shift in the café, stressed and tired, but then I could spend all evening sketching in front of some rubbish on the TV or with Norman, chatting. He used to reminisce about his wife. I liked that.’
‘It was good for him to have you in the house, I’m sure.’
‘I think it helped stem the loneliness for both of us.’
‘Shouldn’t you have been out clubbing every night?’
Skye shook her head. ‘Not my style. Besides, I never had a chance to do all of that kind of stuff with Summer g
rowing up.’
Will nodded thoughtfully. ‘You were her surrogate mum, I’m guessing.’
‘Sort of,’ said Skye. ‘Although when we argued, she would always remind me that I was only her sister.’
‘A sister who supported her through school and college,’ added Will.
Skye shrugged. ‘She was my little sister. What else was I supposed to do?
‘But what about you?’ asked Will, in a soft tone. ‘What about your dreams?’
‘I’m happy doing this,’ said Skye, holding up the wire she had been twisting in her fingers.
‘Maybe you should carry on using your artistic talents,’ he said. ‘Job-wise, I mean.’
‘I’m not sure there’s much money in that,’ she said, laughing.
‘What about the stable block?’ he said, leaning forward as he seemed more sure of his idea. ‘There’s still some workshops spare. You could use one of those and sell anything that you make.’
‘What am I going to make?’ she asked, still laughing.
‘Anything that sells.’ Will thought hard. ‘Okay. What about wedding design? You could use the stables as your base. There’s always loads of people getting married around here. Or events.’
He looked so pleased with himself that Skye could barely think straight. ‘I don’t know,’ she began.
‘I do!’ he said, as if brokering no argument. ‘You don’t want to be a waitress all your life, do you? You’re too talented.’
Skye smiled, wishing that she didn’t have to speak the next words. ‘But I’m supposed to be leaving after the wedding.’
Will looked stunned, as if he had completely forgotten about that. ‘Well, yeah. I suppose.’ There was a long pause before he spoke again. ‘But maybe you don’t have to.’
The words lingered in the air, tempting. It was Skye’s unspoken wish.
But, as always, she had to be the sensible one. ‘But we need to rent out the lodge, don’t we? The estate needs the income,’ she said, gently. ‘It’s a nice dream though.’
He nodded. ‘We’ll think of something,’ he said.
But he sounded less sure now.
Skye continued to fiddle with the wire, lost in thought. It wasn’t to be, she realised. The lodge would be rented out and she would head north. That was the sensible thing to do. No matter how much her heart was trying to tell her otherwise.
A Way Back Home Page 26
