by Kate Field
Helen bit back the obvious response. It wouldn’t help to row in front of Megan. But really, it was beyond irritating. Had he not listened to a word she’d said about the amber weather warning? Could he not have accepted, just for once, that she might have been right?
‘Do you have a shovel?’ she asked instead, but without much hope. Did they even have snow in Hong Kong and Australia? He was bound to be out of practice for an English winter.
‘No.’ He leaned over and rummaged down by Helen’s feet. He pulled up an ice scraper. ‘I have this. I’ll have to see if I can dig us out.’
Daniel put on his coat and went outside. Helen could see him trying to shift the snow with the tiny ice scraper. He might as well have been using a spoon; and the snow was still falling so heavily, any progress he made would soon be covered over.
‘What’s Danny doing?’ Megan asked, as a dark shape crouched down at the side of the window next to her.
‘He’s trying to clear the snow away from the wheels so that the car can move,’ Helen replied, reaching over to the back of the car and stroking Megan’s foot.
‘I don’t like it,’ Megan said, and she started to cry, quietly at first and then with increasing volume, despite Helen’s efforts to comfort her. It was clearly loud enough to be heard outside. Daniel yanked open her door, making Megan scream.
‘What’s the matter with her?’ he asked, staring at Helen.
‘She’s tired and hungry,’ she replied. ‘Probably freezing too,’ she added, gesturing at the open door, through which snow was drifting in.
Daniel closed the door, and opened Helen’s instead.
‘Haven’t you brought any food?’ he asked.
‘Only snacks, and she’s already eaten those. You said we would be stopping for supper on the way home.’
‘I didn’t know this was going to happen!’
‘I warned you about the amber forecast.’
‘Then you should have brought some food!’
He slammed the door shut. Helen stared at it, open-mouthed. Was this how it always went, being part of a two-parent family? Bickering, blaming and passing responsibility to the other? She’d never seen Kirsty and Ben behave like this, but perhaps behind closed doors they were the same. Perhaps: but somehow she doubted it.
Helen’s door opened again.
‘Can you move to the driver’s seat? Keep in first; try to edge forward while I push.’
They tried this for five minutes, but the car wasn’t going anywhere. Eventually Daniel opened the door again. Despite the cold night, his brow glistened with sweat, and he was breathing hard.
‘This isn’t working.’
There was no arguing with that.
‘Don’t you have breakdown cover?’ Helen suggested. In the light reflected from the car she could see the sarcastic lift of his eyebrows.
‘I think they may be rather busy tonight, don’t you?’
‘Can we catch a train back to Manchester?’
‘From where? Can you see a station?’ Of course she couldn’t. She couldn’t see any buildings at all, and no other cars had passed since they had stopped.
‘What ideas do you have?’ Helen asked. ‘You told me to leave the arrangements to you. So what do you propose?’
Daniel’s hand was thudding on the roof of the car.
‘There was a small town half a mile back. We’ll have to go there. There might be a hotel.’
‘A hotel?’ Was he serious? ‘You think we’re going to stay overnight?’
‘There’s no option. You said yourself that Megan was tired. It’s either that or sleep in the car, and I don’t think any of us want that.’
Helen didn’t especially want to spend the night in a hotel with Daniel either, but he was already unfastening Megan.
‘I’ll carry Megan so we can walk faster.’
They trudged through the deepening snow back towards civilisation. It was too dark to see much of Daniel’s face, but Helen could tell from the brooding quality of his silence that he wasn’t happy. He had wanted this day to be perfect, and instead it could hardly have turned out worse. Was he changing his mind about telling Megan who he was tomorrow? Might he be changing his mind about being involved at all? She tried to interpret his thoughts but it was impossible to work out what he was thinking. If he was thinking at all: Helen was so cold she wasn’t sure her brain was still functioning.
At last they reached the outskirts of the town. Only the occasional 4x4 was still on the road; other cars and vans had been abandoned by the kerb. Helen hadn’t taken much notice of the place when they had driven through, but now she saw it, her hopes were low of finding a hotel. But Daniel suddenly shouted out as if he’d spotted an oasis in the desert.
‘There’s a B&B over there.’ His finger pointed at a detached red-brick building squeezed in between a launderette and a row of terraced houses. It became obvious as they approached that it had passed its glory days some time ago, and that was judging it in the flattering glow of the street lamp. Helen could readily imagine what it would look like in the morning. But a tatty sign in the window said ‘Vacancies’. It was all the adornment needed to make the place look beautiful.
Daniel rang the doorbell and eventually a well-built lady in her sixties answered. She was resplendent in baggy cord trousers, a polo necked jumper and padded navy bodywarmer which made her appear even bulkier than she already was.
‘Bless you,’ she said, casting a smile over them that was as warm as a blast from a heat lamp. ‘Come inside and let’s shut that cold air out. Look at this poor little mite, she looks perishing. We need to get you warmed up, don’t we?’ The woman reached out and tickled Megan’s cheek. ‘Is it a room you’re after? I’ve had a few surprise arrivals already tonight who can’t make it home, but you’re in luck, I’ve got the one room left and it’s the family room, so it will be just the job, won’t it?’
‘One room?’ Helen began, as the front door was closed and locked behind her. ‘That’s…’
‘Perfect.’ Daniel interrupted. ‘We’ll take it.’
Helen stared at him. What was he thinking? How could it possibly be perfect for the three of them to be sharing one room? But he looked back at her with an uncompromising expression.
‘Is there anywhere nearby we can find something to eat?’ he asked the lady, who now introduced herself as Mrs Kirkbride.
‘Oh, you don’t need to worry about that,’ she replied cheerfully. ‘I’ve had a pot of stew on the go since the weather turned bad this afternoon. I was expecting trouble. It happens every year. Those blasted sat navs send people this way to avoid the M6, but the road can be lethal up ahead, as I guess you’ve discovered!’ She laughed. ‘I’ll show you the room, and then you can come down to the dining room when you’re ready. And I’ll fetch you some of my Dennis’ socks,’ she added, pointing down at Daniel’s feet. ‘You’ll perish in those wet ones. How are your pants?’
‘They’ll be fine,’ he said hastily. He shot a look at Helen, a flicker of alarm, followed up with a smile. For a moment it was as if the last five years had never happened, and they were united in a shared sense of how ridiculous this situation was. The woman was trying to strip Daniel of his clothes and he hadn’t even made it past the floral-carpeted hall yet. Helen smiled back.
‘Is there a shop nearby where I could buy a few things?’ Daniel asked as Mrs Kirkbride led them up two flights of stairs to an attic room at the top of the house.
‘There’s a lovely big Tesco on the way in to town. You’ll be able to get your basics there. It’s open late so you’ve time to have your tea first. I’ll lend you my Dennis’ wellies when you go.’ She swung the door open with a flourish. ‘And here’s your room. You’ll be nice and snug up here.’
Helen led Megan into the room. It felt more like walking into a greenhouse than a bedroom: there was a riot of unmatched flowers on the carpet, the walls and the curtains, and a vase of plastic carnations bloomed on the dressing table. There was one small s
ingle bed tucked away in a corner under a steeply sloping roof. The only other bed was a double. Helen absorbed this with a creeping sense of uncertainty. How was this going to work? Where would they all sleep?
‘A bunny!’ Megan squealed, and ran over and sat down on the single bed, grabbing the toy rabbit that was propped against the pillow. Her answer to the sleeping conundrum was clear. But that only left… No. That simply wasn’t possible. She couldn’t do it, couldn’t bear an illusion of the past when their circumstances were now so different. Helen turned to Daniel. She saw his eyes flick round the room, but his face was impenetrable.
‘It’s perfect, thanks,’ he said to Mrs Kirkbride.
Helen stared. Perfect? For the second time in ten minutes? This was politeness run mad. Sharing a room was not perfect. And as for sharing a bed… It was the most imperfect situation she could imagine.
‘Dan…’
He spoke over her.
‘Is there a bathroom?’
‘Yes, next door. Technically anyone can use it, but no one else knows it’s up here. All the benefits of an en-suite without the price!’ Mrs Kirkbride beamed. ‘Is ten minutes enough for you all to spend a penny? I’ll have your tea ready then if you want to come down.’
She left and closed the door behind her. Daniel swung round to Helen.
‘What choice is there?’ he said, though she hadn’t spoken. ‘It might not be the five-star standard you expect, but it’s warm and dry.’
‘Life hasn’t been five star for some considerable time, or hadn’t you noticed?’ she shot back. She gestured at the room. ‘It’s not the lack of stars that bothers me. It’s the lack of beds.’
‘Megan’s chosen her bed. We’ll have to take this one.’ He waved at the double.
‘No!’ Helen took a step back. ‘You’ll have to go in the single.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous. I’m too big, and I’d crack my head on the ceiling. Megan wants it.’
‘This bed’s mine,’ Megan said, in a tone that Helen knew well was one nudge away from a full-blown tantrum.
‘I’m sure we’re grown up enough to share a bed. We’ve managed it before.’
He avoided Helen’s eye. How could he so carelessly, so dismissively, refer to their past like that? It made her pull herself together. She couldn’t let him see that the idea bothered her, when it was clearly a matter of no consequence to him. So she shrugged as if it were unimportant where they slept, gathered Megan, and took her to the bathroom.
Mrs Kirkbride’s stew was delicious, but Megan was visibly drooping by the time they had finished. Daniel passed on the offer of apple pie and, kitted out in Dennis’ coat, socks and wellingtons, headed out to buy provisions at Tesco. Barely an hour had gone by before he knocked on the attic room door. He staggered in, laden with four Bags for Life.
‘The snow’s stopped,’ he said, dropping the bags at the foot of the double bed. ‘We shouldn’t have too many problems tomorrow.’
‘That’s a relief,’ Helen said. ‘You look like you’ve bought enough to last a week.’
‘It’s essential stuff.’ He unloaded the first bag. ‘Toothbrushes, toothpaste, deodorant, nightwear…’ He was dividing everything in three piles on the bed. He didn’t look at Helen as he added a packet of ladies’ knickers to what was clearly her pile. Size 8 knickers, she noted, the size she used to be. He clearly hadn’t paid her much attention since his return to England.
Helen took Megan to the bathroom and helped her change for bed into her new pyjamas. Daniel had bought a book for a bedtime story, but she fell asleep before he was halfway through reading it. He came back over and perched on the double bed. Helen was sitting on it with her feet up; she had gravitated to ‘her’ side of the bed without having given it any conscious thought.
‘I brought you these to read,’ Daniel said, and reaching into the final bag he pulled out three thick glossy magazines. Helen stroked the cover of the first magazine, her fingers gliding across the shiny surface. She used to love these magazines, poring over the adverts to decide what to buy, but it had been a long time since she’d had either the time or the money to spare for them. Tears pricked her eyes at the realisation that Daniel had thought to buy them for her, and had remembered her favourites.
‘And I smuggled these past Mrs Kirkbride,’ he continued. ‘I was sure the bottles were clanking all the way up the stairs.’ He drew out a bottle of vodka and a bottle of tonic. ‘Can we manage without ice and lemon?’
Helen would happily have drunk the vodka neat to see her through this ordeal.
‘We’ve no glasses.’ Would swigging from the bottle be too desperate? Swigging from a shared bottle would certainly be too intimate. Helen’s eyes fell on the hospitality tray, and she padded across the room. ‘Will coffee cups do?’
They sat on the bed, as far apart as they could be, in a silence which the vodka gradually helped smooth from awkward to comfortable. Helen flicked through the magazines, and snapshot memories of her old life scrolled through her head with every turn of the page. Once this news about the latest fashion, hairstyles and cosmetics had seemed important, but it bore no relation to her life now. The little girl snuffling in the corner had changed her too much – had changed everything. Helen tossed the magazines aside.
‘Finished them already?’ Daniel looked up from his paper. ‘I should have bought more.’
‘It’s hard to concentrate,’ Helen said, reaching over to the bedside table and picking up her cup of vodka. ‘This isn’t how I was supposed to be spending the evening.’
‘Did you have plans?’ Daniel put down his newspaper. ‘Did you have a date?’
‘No,’ she replied quickly, sensing the frown starting, and fearing there would be a cross-examination about the babysitting arrangements. ‘I needed the time to work. I can fit in six or seven hours after Megan has gone to bed.’
‘Six or seven hours? When do you sleep?’
‘When the work’s done.’ Or when she nodded off in her chair, needle in hand. Some nights she never made it into bed at all. She decided not to tell him that. She couldn’t risk him thinking she might be too tired to look after Megan properly.
‘I don’t understand. Why do you have to do that?’
Helen shrugged.
‘The same reason as everyone else. I need to earn money.’
‘No, you don’t.’ Daniel shifted so he was turned towards her. ‘You never worked before. Your parents…’
‘I haven’t taken anything from my parents since Megan was born.’
‘Why not?’
‘I don’t want to discuss it.’ Helen drew her legs up under her. Daniel studied her, fingers drumming steadily against his cup.
‘We haven’t sorted out the maintenance yet. Have you any idea how much? A thousand a month?’
‘No!’ Helen waved her hand at him. ‘Don’t be silly.’
‘What? Isn’t it enough? Two thousand? Three?’
‘I can manage.’
‘Working into the early hours of the morning isn’t managing, it’s struggling. Take the money, and you can give up work again.’
‘I don’t want to give up. I love my job. We’re surviving, and we’re not dependent on anyone else.’ Helen sipped her vodka, resolutely looking away from Daniel. She was never going to let him know, directly or indirectly, how close they had come to not surviving on a couple of occasions. She had pulled them back from the brink, and the realisation of her own ability had astonished her. But she could sense his eyes on her, and inevitably she turned towards Daniel.
‘Has it been very tough, on your own?’
Helen hadn’t expected that, nor the sympathy that was creeping into his eyes.
‘Yes.’
‘Were you really on your own for the birth?’
‘Apart from the medical staff.’
‘Why? There must have been someone. Your mother…’
‘Certainly not her.’ Helen had drunk enough vodka to make the truth easier than concocting a lie
. ‘It was your place. No one else could take it.’
‘Nell…’
He reached out and put a tentative hand on her shoulder.
‘Don’t pity me, Dan. You, of all people, have no cause to pity me. I chose to do it alone. I can hardly complain about it now.’
Helen went to the bathroom, needing some time to herself, and away from Daniel’s scrutiny. His sympathy, the three of them being together, the vodka… It was a lethal combination. Every time they were together, she had to close her mind to thoughts of how different it might have been, how if she had acted differently, this could have been real. Now the alcohol had opened the floodgates to all those thoughts and they crashed in, wave on wave. And yet… She looked at herself in the bathroom mirror, seeing the melting remains of her make-up, the weathered hair, and the tiredness glazing her eyes. She felt the customary ache that any thought of Daniel produced: but was it slightly dulled? Perhaps it was the vodka, or the familiarity of seeing him more often; perhaps it was something else entirely, but for once she felt that the edge had been taken off the pain. It hadn’t gone away, but it was bearable.
‘What are we going to do about Christmas?’ Daniel asked, when Helen returned to the bedroom. Her drink had been refilled in her absence. She wandered over to Megan, looked down for a few moments on her beautiful girl, sleeping soundly, and went back to sit on the bed.
‘We’re going to my parents’ house. We do every year.’
‘Even though you won’t accept their financial help?’
‘It’s better than being on our own. And Adam and Jane will be there.’
‘Why don’t you come to my house this year?’
That would be cosy, Helen thought, reaching out for her cup. Daniel and Tasha, Helen and Megan, all sitting down to Christmas lunch together. She was fairly certain he couldn’t have run this idea past Tasha before suggesting it.
‘What does Tasha think about that?’
‘She won’t be there. She’s going back to Australia for Christmas.’
Helen looked at Daniel, trying to read from his face the lines missing from his words. Had he even mentioned this plan to Tasha? Was this a secret Christmas dinner, for the three of them? For so many reasons, she recoiled at the thought of it. She shook her head.
