by Kate Field
‘I knew I’d entice you out for that drink eventually.’ Those dangerous dimples came out again. Helen glanced away, attacked by an unexpected palpitation. ‘Do you mind if I get a couple of quick photos? I’ll go as soon as your customer arrives.’
He followed Helen into Crazy Little Things and took photos of the crazy patchwork and of the shop, while Helen lurked, trying not to be caught herself. She was so busy watching him that she didn’t even notice the sound she’d been waiting for all morning, and she jumped when she saw Alex hesitating in the doorway.
‘Am I too early?’ Alex asked, regarding Joel curiously.
‘No, come in.’ Helen turned to Joel. ‘Have you taken enough for today?’
‘Yes. It’s going to look great.’ He packed away his camera. ‘I’ll show you a mock-up before it goes live, but that won’t be for a few days.’ His smile stretched over Helen and Alex as he squeezed past them to get to the door. ‘I’ll text you about tomorrow night.’
Helen nodded, and watched as Joel crossed back over to Malcolm’s shop. He said something, and within seconds Malcolm was shaking his hand. Helen smiled. It looked like the Hay Barn was now full.
‘Who was that?’ Alex gave Helen a penetrating stare, horribly reminiscent of her brother.
‘Joel owns a craft gallery. St Andrew’s is closing so we all need to move, and he has vacant units. He was taking photos for the website.’ Helen shut up, wondering why she had felt compelled to give so much explanation. Alex was still studying Joel. She needed to be distracted. ‘Have you managed to get any more of the fabric from the bridesmaids’ dresses?’
‘Yes, it won’t be a problem.’ At last Alex tore her eyes from Joel, and pulled out a small sample of pale blue material from her bag. Helen picked it up, admiring how the light shimmered over the surface.
‘Megan is going to adore this,’ she said, laughing. ‘I know exactly what she’s going to say. It’s the colour of Cinderella’s dress. You do realise she’ll want to wear her tiara and plastic glass slippers, don’t you?’
Alex smiled awkwardly.
‘You don’t have to make a dress,’ she said, fiddling with the handle of her bag. ‘I know Mum railroaded you into it, but I won’t mind if you back out. I can buy something instead.’
‘I couldn’t back out now I’ve seen the Cinderella fabric.’ Helen smiled.
‘And Valerie didn’t railroad me. It was an obvious solution.’
Alex stared at Helen. Valerie’s interference had never passed by with so little remark. The old Helen would have relished ranting about this, even to Valerie’s daughter.
‘I only had two patterns in stock,’ Helen continued, picking them up off the counter and passing them to Alex. ‘But I think they may be rather plain for this fabric.’
‘I’m sure one of them would be fine…’ Alex began.
‘And then I found this!’ Helen spun the laptop round and showed Alex the picture she’d found of a flower girl, in a simple puff-sleeved dress in pink satin overlaid with net. ‘I can adapt it so the sleeves aren’t quite so puffy, and make a round neck instead of the V. And look at this net!’ She ducked under the counter and pulled out a roll of net studded with tiny beads. ‘Tell me if you think it’s too bling, but it will look gorgeous when the light sparkles on the beads, and Megan will think she’s a princess. Although obviously it’s your day…’
Helen stopped. Alex wasn’t speaking, simply looking at Helen as if she had two heads.
‘You hate it, don’t you?’ Helen said. She hoped she didn’t sound too wistful: she would have loved to see Megan in this dress.
‘No, not at all.’ Alex continued to look at her. ‘It’s you.’
‘You hate me?’ Helen had felt it at Valerie’s, but to hear it out loud, from Alex, and here where she had always found sanctuary… It hurt more than she could have expected.
‘No.’ Alex fingered the netting. ‘I tried to. I thought I should. But I can’t. You’re still you. But in some ways you’ve changed so much I hardly recognise you.’
‘Dan has already made it plain quite how much I’ve changed for the worst over the last few years.’
‘Really? That’s not the impression…’ Alex stopped, and there was an awkward silence.
‘Did you never guess I was a natural mouse?’ Helen dragged out a laugh, touching her hair ruefully.
‘It’s more than the hair. You seem so…’ Alex waved her hand. ‘I can’t think of the right word.’
‘If you’re heading towards “mumsy”, be warned that I have plenty of sharp implements to hand.’
Alex laughed, then covered her mouth guiltily. ‘That’s not it, or not all of it. You seem so settled, like whatever’s going on around you, you have an untouchable core of contentment. You didn’t have that before. You were always so bound up with Dan, and what he wanted. Now you’ve become yourself.’
Was it true? Did Alex know her so well, even after all this time? Helen had been happy with Daniel, blissfully so, she would have said. But she had let her own life slide to fit in with his. It hadn’t troubled her at first, when their relationship had been new, and she had had the whole of London to fill her days. But when they had moved to Lancashire, pulled up on Valerie’s apron strings after Daniel’s father died, Helen had been forced to re-evaluate her life, and had discovered she wanted – needed – more. Being Daniel Blake’s partner had no longer been enough.
Hong Kong had come at a perfect time: she had thought that a new city and a new country would be the challenge she was looking for, and perhaps restore them to how they had been in London. But in the end, a thin blue line on a plastic stick soaked in urine had proved exactly what she needed. It was hard to believe she would ever have made it to St Andrew’s when she was with Daniel, even if Hong Kong hadn’t come along. It had taken Megan to give her the motivation to start a career, and to be herself. Perhaps the break from Daniel had been the best thing for both of them. But how could that be right, when she had mourned him for the last four years?
‘Why did you do it?’ Alex was looking at Helen, her expression more confused than condemnatory. ‘How could you? He adored you, you must have known that, and I always thought it was mutual. He was absolutely frantic when he came back and couldn’t find you. He almost decided to move back for good. It took us days to persuade him to return to Hong Kong.’
‘Why?’ Helen asked.
‘Why what?’
‘Why did you persuade him to go back?’
‘Because it was what he wanted, what he needed.’ Alex frowned. ‘He had been so excited about the opportunity. It was what he’d been working towards for years. We didn’t want him to ruin his life because of you.’
‘And I felt exactly the same,’ Helen said. Alex’s words were like arnica for her soul. ‘That’s why I didn’t tell him, and why I let him go. So he didn’t ruin his life because of me.’
And perhaps, she was beginning to realise, so she didn’t ruin hers because of him. But that thought was too new, too contrary, for Helen to give it head room yet.
Alex’s eyes widened.
‘Oh God,’ she said. ‘You still love him. But he’s with Tasha…’
‘I know. And I won’t interfere with that. But he’s never done anything to make me stop loving him. Feelings don’t just vanish.’
‘No, they don’t.’ Before she knew what was happening, Alex had come round the counter and was hugging Helen. ‘I can’t believe how much I’ve missed you. Whatever happens with Dan, can we be friends again?’
Helen nodded, tears the only answer she could make. How could she have dreaded today? She could hardly believe how her fortune had turned around, after it had all looked so bleak. The new shop premises, the truce with Daniel, the restored friendship with Alex… Only a few days ago this would have seemed impossible. Perhaps, at last, things were starting to go her way…
CHAPTER 15
‘Are you sure you don’t want me to cancel?’ Helen asked for the umpteenth time as she
hesitated by the front door. ‘I feel awful dragging you out, especially when Tommy’s not well.’
‘He made it very loud and clear that he didn’t want me,’ Ben laughed. ‘Our neighbours can vouch for that. Besides, Kirsty would probably kill me by the most painful means possible if I let you cancel your date.’
‘It’s not a date.’
Ben looked her up and down and grinned.
‘You’re dressed for a date, you smell like a date… The subtle distinction by which this isn’t a date is lost on me.’
‘I’ve overdone it, haven’t I?’ Helen glanced down. Her red wraparound dress and boots suddenly seemed way more vampish than when she’d emptied her wardrobe earlier. But Joel had sent her a text suggesting they meet in the bar of a smart gastro-pub midway between their houses. She could hardly turn up there in jeans on a Friday night. She’d dressed up for the venue, not for Joel, she reassured herself. ‘Should I change?’
‘No, you look fine. And if you change you’ll definitely be late.’ Ben checked his watch. ‘Later.’
Helen let that ‘fine’ go. It wasn’t a description a woman ever wanted to hear, even from a friend’s husband. And she really didn’t have time to change, especially when, despite the pile of clothes now on her bed, she had nothing else to wear. So she opened the front door, and walked straight into Daniel’s raised fist.
‘What are you doing here?’ she asked, too surprised to be polite, as she clutched the door to stop herself falling over.
‘Visiting.’
‘Megan’s in bed.’
‘Visiting you. There are things we need to discuss.’ He looked her over, very much as Ben had done, and his gaze dwelled on the boots. ‘Are you going somewhere?’
‘Out. I’m meeting someone. It’s a business meeting.’
‘Really?’ There was a whole wealth of disbelief invested in the word. Daniel leaned forwards slightly. ‘You’re wearing your favourite perfume.’
Technically his favourite perfume, which he always bought her, but still – he remembered! For a moment Helen’s heart soared, but the frown on his face sent it plummeting back down. He was looking past her now, and had clearly noticed Ben, who had settled down in the armchair with a newspaper. Daniel pushed past Helen, into the house.
‘Who’s this?’
Ben stood up and held out his hand, smiling.
‘Hello, I’m Ben. I don’t need to ask who you are. You’re like peas in a pod.’
Daniel ignored the proffered hand, and turned to Helen, who had closed the front door again.
‘Is he your boyfriend?’
‘Of course not. Ben is Kirsty’s husband.’
Ben had returned to the chair. Daniel faced him.
‘Are you involved in this business meeting?’
‘Me?’ Ben laughed. ‘No, I’m no businessman. I’m the babysitter.’
‘He’s babysitting Megan?’ Daniel’s fingers tapped slowly against his thigh. ‘Why didn’t you ask me?’
Helen blinked up at him as if he were shining a spotlight in her face. How could she answer, when she hardly understood herself? It had simply seemed wrong, in ways she didn’t want to explore, to use Daniel as a babysitter when she was going out with Joel: even when the meeting with Joel was absolutely not a date.
‘It was supposed to be Kirsty,’ she said instead. ‘But Ben’s just as good. He’s used to children. Megan knows him.’
She could probably have phrased that better, she realised as soon as she saw the way Daniel’s jaw clenched.
‘And whose fault is it that she doesn’t know me? That I’m not used to children?’
So much for the truce.
‘I didn’t mean it like that.’
‘Didn’t you? Then Ben can go home and I’ll babysit.’
‘But Megan thinks Ben is looking after her. If she wakes up she won’t expect to find you here.’
There was a creak on the landing, and a sleepy little figure in Hello Kitty pyjamas trailed down the stairs, Mr Cat clutched in a tight cuddle under one arm.
‘Have you brought back more photos of Mr Cat?’ Megan asked, aiming straight for Helen.
‘I haven’t been out yet, sweetheart,’ Helen replied, picking Megan up and kissing her cheek. She smelt deliciously warm and sleepy. ‘I’ll be on my way soon.’ Although she was running so late now, it would be a miracle if Joel was still there when she arrived. ‘Come on, I’ll put you back to bed first.’
‘Danny’s here,’ Megan said, as Helen carried her to the stairs.
‘Yes, he is. He’s come to visit.’
‘But I’m asleep.’
‘I know. Isn’t he a silly billy?’
Megan giggled, and Helen hugged her tighter as she took her back to her bedroom and laid her in bed.
‘Can I have a story?’
‘You’ve already had three!’ Helen pulled the duvet up to Megan’s chin, and perched on the edge of the bed. She stroked the hair away from her face. ‘You should be asleep, and I should be out.’
‘Let me do it.’ Daniel leaned against the doorway. He hadn’t been upstairs before, and he hadn’t been invited up now. Helen’s heart pounded at the invasion. He seemed overpoweringly male in this pink environment. ‘Let me read a story and put her to bed. Please.’
It wasn’t the ‘please’ that persuaded her: it was the look on his face, the desperate desire to do something that most fathers would have done hundreds of times by now, without having to ask permission first. How could she refuse?
‘Would you like Daniel to read you a story?’ she asked Megan.
‘Will he do the voices?’ Megan whispered loudly.
‘I’m sure he will.’ Helen glanced at Daniel. He was smiling. It was such an ordinary, everyday scene: a family scene. But it wasn’t ordinary in this house.
Helen bent down and kissed Megan.
‘Be good. Only one story. I’ll be back soon.’ She crossed over to the door, and Daniel stepped forward to let her pass. ‘I won’t be long. Ring if you have any problems.’
He nodded, but he wasn’t listening, she could tell. He had eyes only for Megan. His attention was solely on her, and he didn’t even notice when Helen left the room.
The bar was busy, and for an awful moment Helen thought that Joel had gone. Then, as she squeezed through the happy Friday crowd, peering round and over bodies, she spotted him at a small table in the corner. A barely touched pint was sitting on the table in front of him, and he was bent over a folded newspaper, twirling a pen in his hand. Helen’s stomach fluttered in relief as she hurried over to him.
‘I’m so sorry,’ she said, as she reached his table and dropped her bag onto the dark oak settle opposite him. ‘I know I’m horribly late. I didn’t think you’d still be here.’
She stopped. Joel had stood up, and was smiling at her with pleasure that he made no effort to hide, as if she had made his day simply by being there. It was a long time since anyone had looked at her like that. She smiled back.
‘I don’t mind waiting,’ he said. ‘Although nursing a pint is harder work than you’d think. And I’ve had to fight off several pretenders with designs on that settle.’ Helen laughed. ‘Can I get you a drink?’
‘White wine, please. Just a small one.’
He headed to the bar. He was dressed up, Helen noticed: smarter trousers than the jeans she’d seen him in before, and a fresh cream shirt. Was it for her benefit? At least she didn’t feel so over-dressed as she took off her coat and revealed the red dress. She sat down and pulled the newspaper over to her side of the table.
A few minutes later Joel returned with her drink.
‘Thanks.’ She looked up and caught his gaze sliding back up to her face. He flashed her an unapologetic grin.
‘You can’t wear a dress like that and not expect to be admired.’ He sat down. ‘You look gorgeous.’
Helen took a sip of wine, not meeting his eyes. Her old self would have expected such a compliment as a matter of course; now she didn’t
know what to do with it. So she ignored it and changed the subject.
‘You’re clever,’ she said, indicating the crossword that he had almost completed in the newspaper. ‘I wouldn’t have known a quarter of these.’
‘Blimey,’ Joel replied, sitting back and shaking his head. ‘Where do I start with that? I could be offended that I compliment your appearance, and you can only praise my brain. But I think that note of surprise in the accusation of cleverness might be even more wounding.’
‘I didn’t mean…’ She spotted his grin, and laughed. ‘Can you tell I don’t get out much?’
‘I can’t imagine why not.’ His eyes were soaking her in again, so intensely that Helen was sure her skin must be the same colour as her dress. ‘Is it a nightmare to find good babysitters?’
‘It can be.’ And then two come along at once. But she wasn’t going into all that. ‘I don’t try very often.’
‘Really?’ Joel picked up his pint. ‘Now I am flattered.’
Helen drank more wine. It wasn’t going to last long at this rate.
‘Obviously I made a special effort to come out tonight,’ she said. His smile widened. ‘It’s business, after all.’
He had an attractive laugh, deep and bubbly. It was the sort of laugh you wanted to draw out again and again.
‘That’s put me back in my place, hasn’t it?’ He opened a bag on the seat beside him and brought out an iPad, and a notebook and pen. ‘We’d better talk business then. Have a look at the photos I took yesterday, and let me know if there are any you’d like on the website.’
He pushed the iPad over to her, and she swiped through the photographs of her work and shop. They were good: he had brought out the colour and vibrancy of her crazy patchwork and made it look…
‘It looks so professional.’
She didn’t realise she’d spoken out loud until she heard his laugh.
‘It is professional. It’s incredible. I don’t know why you’ve been hidden away in St Andrew’s for so long. You could have a much bigger market. Auntie Joan told me you were good, but I never expected anything like I found. I’m kicking myself that I didn’t come sooner. She’s been raving about you since I moved back from Bristol. About your work,’ he corrected himself, with a charming flush of self-consciousness.
