I'm Not in Love (Once Upon a Winter Book 2)

by Tennant, Tilly

  ‘Yes. Thank you so much for coming to our rescue again.’

  ‘It’s really nothing. Hopefully I’ll be able to get your car running when we get back. Do you mind if I pick up my tools on the way through?’

  ‘Of course not,’ Hannah said as they pulled out of the carpark.

  ‘You could pop in and say hello to my mum if you like,’ he said. ‘Only the other day she mentioned that she hadn’t seen you around in ages.’

  Hannah wondered how she had become the topic of conversation between Ross and his mum, and for reasons she couldn’t explain hoped it had nothing to do with the last time Ross had literally dug her out of a hole and taken her to the hospital to look for a man she barely knew. She wondered what else Ross’s mum would have said about that particular scenario; she felt more than a little daft when she thought about it now. Not for the first time, she also wished that Gina hadn’t been quite as chatty with Ross about it. She had no issue being involved in the Holly Way community, she just didn’t want to be their entertainment.

  ‘That’d be nice,’ she said vaguely as these ideas, quickly followed by unwanted thoughts of Tom, raced around her head.

  ‘That reminds me,’ Ross added as he navigated a tight bend with such ease that Hannah wouldn’t have been surprised to learn that he drove rally cars in his spare time. ‘Did you lose a watch?’

  ‘No. But I might know someone who has.’

  ‘It was in the snow the other day when I ploughed the lane. An expensive looking beast, actually, and it’s lucky I didn’t crush it underneath Bess’s wheels.’

  ‘That is a bit of luck,’ Hannah agreed. ‘I think it might belong to one of the paramedics who came to our house on Christmas day. He came back later saying he’d lost one and left his phone number in case we found it. I’ll call him.’

  ‘I’ll dig it out when we stop off at the farm and you can take a photo to text him.’

  ‘Brilliant idea!’ Hannah smiled. It certainly was a stroke of luck that Ross had come across the lost watch, if it was the right one, of course. Some would call it a coincidence; just another one in a set of coincidences that seemed to get stranger and stranger.

  Ross pulled up on the wide gravel drive of a ramshackle farmhouse. Despite its chaotic appearance, Holly Farm was well maintained and obviously loved. The full majesty of the summer gardens weren’t in evidence, but the grounds were still vibrant with evergreens; brightly coloured furniture and ornaments cheering the winter scene. Neat outbuildings flanked the main house. The farm building itself was sixteenth century, but over the years there had been many additions and much rebuilding, so that some parts were higgledy piggledy, and others had the straight, clean lines of modern buildings. At the far left was an annexe that looked to be the newest bit of all. Ross was quick to announce that this was his alone, built by his parents when he turned twenty-five in exchange for a promise that he’d stay with them rather than move out, and that he’d take on the farm when they’d both gone. It was a promise he had been only too happy to make, he said, as he wouldn’t have moved very far even if he’d gone, and he loved the farm and his life on it so much that he couldn’t imagine doing anything else for a living anyway. In preparation, he now had his own flock of sheep and sections of the business that his dad had parcelled up and gifted to him so that he could make some money of his own. It was a scheme that made everyone happy and, from what Hannah could see of Ross, she had to conclude that he was doing a pretty good job with his dad’s gift.

  Hannah followed Ross into what looked like the oldest part of the building, and found herself in a low-ceilinged kitchen. The floor was flagged in ancient stones, worn with centuries of footfall, and the wooden beams that supported the ceiling, though varnished, told the tale of an age-old battle with woodworm. Nowadays, the ceiling also sported modern spotlights, and the kitchen was well-equipped with gadgets and labour-saving devices that the original inhabitants of the house could never have dreamt of. A brick red Aga filled the room with welcome warmth and made a handsome focal point. The room was currently deserted, though Hannah could smell something sweet baking.

  ‘Take a seat,’ Ross said. ‘Mum must be in the house somewhere.’

  Hannah hovered at the vast wooden table. She didn’t really want to make herself at home in a house when the owners didn’t know she was there. But Ross didn’t seem concerned about whether Hannah accepted his invitation or not, and merely strode towards a connecting door that led to the rest of the house. He stuck his head through the doorway and bellowed into the space beyond.

  ‘MUM! Where are you? I’ve got one of those visitors you’re always moaning you don’t get!’ He turned back and gave Hannah a broad grin. ‘Don’t worry; if she had a houseful every day she’d still moan. She loves visitors, does Mum. Before you know it she’ll have you promising to make jam for the next WI meeting.’

  Hannah prayed to the gods of anything she could think of that Briony Hunter did no such thing. It sounded pretty close to Hannah’s idea of hell.

  A moment later there was a series of thuds from the floor above, and then Ross’s mother hurried into the kitchen. She was slightly out of breath, and smoothed down a bob that would have been the exact shade of blonde as Ross’s had it not been generously threaded with silver. ‘Oooh!’ she squeaked as she set eyes on Hannah, ‘how lovely to see you! I’m so sorry about the mess, I’ve been cleaning upstairs. If I’d known I was going to get a visitor I’d have cleaned downstairs first.’

  Hannah smiled. She couldn’t help but notice that downstairs was already spotless – at least the kitchen was – and a lot cleaner than her own place right now. ‘Ross is very kindly helping me with my car. I hope I won’t be in your way for long.’

  Briony shook her head at her son, but she wore a fond smile. ‘Any excuse to tinker with an engine, eh?’ She turned to Hannah. ‘You’ll stay for a cup of tea and a slice of cake, won’t you? I have a lovely sponge just out of the oven, or some fruit cake left from Christmas. Ross can manage by himself, can’t you?’

  ‘I thought you’d say that,’ Ross said. ‘But I’ve only come to get some tools; the car is at George Maynard’s place.’

  ‘Take your time so we can have a little gossip,’ Briony said. ‘There’s no rush.’

  Hannah couldn’t decide if she felt pleased or aggrieved that she wasn’t being offered a choice about whether she stayed for tea or not. She half wondered how many other ‘visitors’ were still being held, perhaps in a cellar or under-stairs cupboard, dressed in rags and being force-fed sponge cake and WI jam every day.

  As Ross let himself out of the back door with a chuckle, a brief blast of cold air swirled through the warm kitchen, until the door closed behind him again. Hannah had been abandoned and now took a seat and surrendered to Briony’s well-meaning but endless chatter. Before the tea had even brewed in the pot Hannah heard all about Nicola Robinson’s IVF (she’d never met Nicola but already knew the intimate workings of her ovaries), the vicar’s pulled hamstring during the Millrise half marathon, Jean Johnson’s hysterectomy and how much the average lamb would fetch at auction. Briony was a lovely woman, and Hannah could see where Ross got his warmth and generosity from, but she wasn’t half exhausting to listen to.

  ‘So…’ Briony said as she poured Hannah’s tea. ‘Ross tells me you found a stray man on Christmas Day. Have you heard any more from him since he went off to hospital?’

  Hannah almost dropped the slice of fruit cake she was holding. She had thought that Briony not mentioning it until now meant that she didn’t know, but it seemed she’d simply had a lot of gossip to get off her chest before the interrogation on a new victim could begin. Having heard how much she was happy to reveal about other people’s affairs, Hannah decided that a policy of information economy might be wise. Before this week, she and Ross had only exchanged a few words in passing – a comment on the weather or the state of the potholes on Holly Way – so sitting here like this with Briony was new territory for her. She was sure t
hey were a lovely family to be friends with, and would always be there to help out in a crisis, but Hannah wasn’t sure she was ready to be that fully integrated into their life; she had the feeling, however, that after today, there wouldn’t be a lot of choice in the matter.

  ‘No, I haven’t seen him,’ Hannah replied. ‘I don’t expect I will now.’

  ‘Oooh, that’s a shame. It would have been nice to find out how things turned out for him. I bet you’ve been wondering.’

  Hannah took another bite of cake, though it was more to stifle the need for a reply than because she wanted it. She’d thought of little else, and as the days went by she became more convinced that Tom had found one set of memories and lost another – the ones that contained her. She kept telling herself that it was only to be expected, but perhaps some recognition of their Christmas day together would have been nice. She supposed there would be lots of reasons why not, though, and it was silly to get worked up over it.

  ‘I’ve just had a marvellous idea!’ Briony said. ‘We’re looking for ladies to feature on next year’s calendar for the church fund. I don’t suppose you’d like to take part?’

  ‘A calendar?’ Though Hannah was relieved that the subject of Tom had been dropped, she felt even more uncomfortable at this new one. She had visions of topless women draped in vegetables, like that film she’d watched with Gina, and it was the last thing she fancied… She fancied the idea of offending her host even less though.

  ‘We’ve done this year’s of course, and I’m just waiting for the vicar to bring my copy so I can’t show it to you I’m afraid. It’s all very tasteful though, and you’d make a lovely October.’

  Hannah wondered what it was about her that said October. Perhaps it was something to do with Halloween and the fact that she was looking particularly scary today. ‘I’m not sure it’s really me…’ she began, but Briony cut her off.

  ‘Do say yes! It’s the same old faces every year and it would be lovely to have a new one.’

  ‘I’m not very photogenic…’

  ‘Everyone is photogenic by the time Rainbow gets hold of them.’

  ‘Rainbow?’

  ‘Our photographer. She’s absolutely brilliant.’

  ‘I’m sure she is but…’

  ‘You’d be great…’ Ross stood in the doorway holding a metal tool box, and with a huge grin on his face. He turned to his mum. ‘I can’t leave you alone for ten minutes without you trying to recruit.’

  ‘When you bring a lovely young lady over what else am I going to do?’

  ‘I wouldn’t exactly say young…’ Hannah gave a self-conscious laugh. She really wanted this conversation to be over.

  ‘Come on, Hannah…’ Ross angled his head at the back door. ‘Let me rescue you.’

  ‘Back to the glamorous world of broken-down cars – yes please,’ Hannah smiled.

  Briony looked rather put out and made Hannah solemnly promise to at least consider the calendar and to make sure she called for tea at the farmhouse again whenever she had time. She grumbled good-naturedly that Ross’s dad was always out and she was forever alone, and that Ross was becoming almost as much of a workaholic as his father, and then Hannah finally managed to say goodbye before following Ross out to his Land Rover.

  ‘They’re not nudie calendars,’ Ross laughed as he opened the door for her. ‘More likely you’ll be suffocating under pumpkins and apples, so we’d hardly see that much of you at all.’

  ‘Oh… well, it’s very nice of your mum to offer but I don’t think it’s really me.’

  ‘That’s a shame actually. I think you’d look pretty good buried under an artfully arranged mound of marrows.’

  Hannah giggled. ‘I bet my sister would be up for it, and she’d look a hundred times better.’

  Ross was silent. Hannah glanced across and saw he had a faraway look, as if he was visualising just how good Gina might look under a mound of marrows. He was probably wishing that it was a nudie calendar. Then he seemed to shake himself, and his usual boyish grin was back. He started the engine. ‘I’ll do my best to persuade you while we drive back to George’s. Mum would never forgive me if I don’t. Perhaps your sister could join in too… might make you feel a bit less self-conscious?’

  ‘Maybe…’ Hannah replied. The truth was she did feel obliged to say yes, if only to repay the kindness Ross had shown her. But the thought of it made her feel sick, and it was going to take a hell of a lot of persuading, no matter how many cars Ross fixed for her.

  *

  After much discussion, Ross persuaded Hannah to let him drop her off at home while he went back to get her car going. Hannah wasn’t crazy about the idea, especially as she felt like such a burden on his time; but the little jobs she had neglected at home over the previous week were beginning to nag at her, and the thought of getting back and starting on them was too tempting. If the truth be told, she was also a little tired and cold, and home seemed like a nice place to be right now.

  ‘If I manage to get it going I’ll bring it back, and if I don’t then I can tow it over with Sally,’ he said as he dropped her at her gate. His cheeky grin was back as he added, ‘But I’ve never met an engine I couldn’t get purring again.’

  Unable to prevent the giggle that erupted from her, Hannah bade him goodbye and let herself in, alone again in her cottage for what felt like the first time in years.

  The silence enveloped her as Hannah slipped off her coat and hung it up. It was chilly, but the central heating would kick in soon and if she cracked on with the tidying up she wouldn’t get cold. She needed to keep busy, because she missed Gina and Jess already. It was almost enough to make her wish she’d enjoyed Briony’s hospitality a little longer after all.

  It was hard to believe that three women could make so much mess but Hannah was glad of the distraction. Her phone sat on the mantelpiece as she worked. Even though she’d set the volume as high as it would go so that she’d know as soon as Gina was back safe, and even though she was expecting it to go off, she still jumped when it bleeped the arrival of a text. When she checked, however, it wasn’t Gina, but the paramedic who had lost his watch. As Ross had suggested, they’d taken a photo of it earlier and sent it to the number the man had left, and the text he sent back now confirmed that it was indeed his watch and that he was delighted they’d found it. Hannah replied that he could come whenever he wanted to pick it up. It was nice to have done a good deed for him when he was always doing them for other people.

  It was later, as she was beating the crumbs from her living room rug and wondering just how they kept ending up there when she rarely ate anything in that room, that the car pulled up outside her gate. Not her own sunny little Citroen or Ross’s sleek Range Rover, not a car belonging to anyone she knew for that matter. It was a sexy looking black Audi with personalised plates bearing initials that she didn’t recognise either. The windows were tinted to a degree that made Hannah wonder whether they were entirely legal, so she had no way of preparing herself for who might emerge from the car. As hers was the only cottage in the immediate vicinity, she had to assume that whoever it was had come specifically to visit her.

  The engine stopped, and there was a moment of suspense before the driver’s door opened. Out stepped a slim blonde woman, immaculately turned out in a calf-length navy woollen coat, her hair pinned into a neat chignon. Hannah gave an involuntary gasp as she recognised the figure, and before she had time to fully process the information, another, more familiar figure, got out of the passenger side to join her. Physically he looked a lot healthier than he had the last time she saw him – certainly a lot less bedraggled – but there was something sombre in his expression, a strain that made Hannah want to run and hug him. He looked like a man whose mind was still not altogether as it should be. He looked very unhappy. And considering what circumstances she had encountered him in on Christmas Day that must mean he was very strained indeed.

  The woman extended a hand as Hannah opened the gate for them. ‘Hannah
, I presume?’

  ‘Hello…’ Hannah glanced at Tom as she shook the woman’s hand. What did she call him now? She gave him the brightest smile she had in her reserves, and the one he returned was like the sun breaking through clouds on a stormy day – bright and glorious. But as fast as it had appeared, it was swallowed up again by greyness. He seemed to be tussling with some inner turmoil, and looked extremely uncomfortable, as if he’d rather be anywhere else. There was no reason for either of them to feel awkward, really, so why did it feel like that? She wondered if her face told the same story. ‘I’m Martine,’ the woman continued. ‘I’m so pleased to finally meet you. Mitchell has told me so much about you.’

  Hannah forced another smile. ‘Mitchell… so at least I have a proper name now. We had to make do with Tom on Christmas day, at the whim of my niece, I might add.’

  ‘So I hear!’ Martine laughed. Even her laughter was elegant and musical, though Hannah couldn’t help but feel it lacked warmth. She shook away the thought. Jealousy was an ugly emotion, and she was feeling it in buckets right now, even though she knew she had no right to. This woman was so impeccable, so together, so obviously successful that Hannah would challenge any other woman she knew not to feel a little bit of envy. She and Mitchell made a handsome couple. ‘It sounds as though it was quite an adventure.’

  Hannah looked at Tom, who was now Mitchell, as she answered. His name was awkward and alien to her when she tried to attach it to him. She liked him better as Tom. ‘It was. How’s the head now?’

  ‘It’s on the mend,’ he said.

  ‘So…’

  ‘Oh, his memory is still away with the fairies,’ Martine answered for him. ‘I’m sure a bit more time will sort things, though.’

  ‘Oh…’ Hannah replied. ‘Nothing has come back at all yet?’

  ‘Bits,’ Mitchell replied. ‘Annoyingly it’s little things that don’t seem important, like I’ll recognise a coat I own and remember where I last wore it, but I don’t recall important things…’ he glanced at Martine, ‘like my wife.’