by Kate Field
Conscious of too many eyes focussed curiously on her, Helen opened the envelope and found a voucher for £200 for a spa she used to go to, in the days when they had been together, and when she had had nothing more pressing to do with her time than beautify herself for him.
‘Thanks,’ she said again, wondering if he thought that she looked so awful that it would take £200 to fix her. ‘That’s very generous.’ Though when she would ever find time to go was anyone’s guess.
‘You deserve a treat. I know you always liked it there.’ Daniel smiled. ‘And I’ll look after Megan whenever you want to go.’
Helen looked at him quickly, suspecting an ulterior motive in the gift, but his smile appeared genuine enough. She turned to Adam.
‘Can you pass that one next?’ she asked, pointing to a large rectangular package. ‘I’m sorry, it’s going to seem nothing now.’
Adam obligingly picked up the parcel, and read out the label. ‘To Daniel, from Megan and Helen. Brief and to the point,’ he commented with an amused smile, and gave the gift to Daniel. Daniel unfastened the paper and let it fall to the floor, until he had on his knee a photograph album. But it was no ordinary album. Helen had made a crazy patchwork cover for it, using snippets of fabric from Megan’s old clothes. Inside she had created a scrapbook, with all her favourite photographs of Megan, dated and labelled, as well as drawings and other items Megan had made at home or nursery. Items that Helen had treasured for years were in there, now entrusted to Daniel. She had agonised over whether to give this to him, fearing it might only remind him of what he had missed. But even if she’d had a million pounds to spend, she couldn’t have found anything more valuable. She watched as he strolled through the pages, his face blank, hoping he understood the spirit in which it was given.
‘Did you make that, Helen?’ Christine asked, peering over at the album. ‘What a clever idea. It looks quite professional. Do you sell these in your little shop?’
‘Not with pictures of Megan in,’ Helen retorted, irked by the way Christine still spoke to her as if she were a wayward child. She caught Valerie watching her.
‘It’s beautiful, Helen, like all your work. And the contents…’ Valerie smiled, and swallowed down her emotion. ‘What precious memories.’
Except they weren’t memories for Daniel, and that fact seemed to suddenly strike Valerie. She put out her hand and lightly touched Daniel’s shoulder. He looked up at Helen. She held her breath. Surely he wouldn’t make a scene in front of Megan?
‘It’s fantastic,’ he said, and his eyes were dragged irresistibly back to the photographs.
‘That’s me, Daddy,’ Megan said, abandoning Helen to join Daniel, and sticking a finger on top of a picture of a laughing toddler. ‘I did laugh when you were away,’ she added, slinging an arm easily round his neck. ‘But I laugh more now you’re back.’
Daniel’s glance flew to Helen, with an expression she found impossible to interpret. Adam found this an appropriate time to abandon his careful gift management, and distracted everyone with a swift division of the remaining presents. Chaos reigned for several minutes, as the adults expressed delight in the usual collection of chocolate, slippers, socks and toiletries. Daniel received an enormous pair of ski gloves from Tasha, and Helen opened a plum silk dressing gown from Kirsty. ‘Just in case you have someone to impress in the morning next year!’ read the card. Helen breathed a sigh of relief that Adam had stopped reading them all aloud.
Presents done, Megan’s thoughts turned to breakfast, and Helen stood up to go and make it.
‘Hang on,’ Adam said, stretching under the tree. ‘We’ve forgotten one. This is yours, I think.’ He pulled out a thin parcel in glossy red paper. Helen recognised it at once. She’d assumed she must have left it at home. Now she wished she had. ‘To Helen,’ Adam began to read, the teasing smile known only to big brothers curving his lips. ‘Hope you have an amazing Christmas. Look forward to …’
‘Thank you!’ Helen interrupted, snatching the parcel from him to shut him up. Unfortunately the clumsy attempt to silence him drew all eyes to her.
‘Open it, Mummy!’ Megan cried, foiling Helen’s plan to squirrel it away upstairs to open later. Helen carefully unwrapped the paper, and found a smaller parcel in a layer of tissue. Inside that was a chunky cashmere scarf, in a cable knit pattern, and a beautiful shade of holly-berry red. As she opened it out, she found a handwritten note. ‘I know it can’t match the quality of the one you made, but I hope you love it as much as I love mine.’ Smiling, Helen ran her fingers down the length of the scarf, revelling in the soft warm texture, and remembering the soft warmth of Joel’s cheek. She loved it already. It was her favourite colour. How could she not? She wrapped it round her neck, wondering what Joel was doing now, and whether he was imagining her opening his present.
Looking up, she realised that everyone was still watching her. She smiled, and unwound the scarf again, letting the fabric trail through her fingers.
‘Breakfast?’ she asked. The response was a hubbub of voices, all except Daniel’s. He was staring at Helen, a frown loud on his face, his fingers tapping at his leg, and he didn’t say a word.
‘Will you stay for one last drink?’ Daniel asked, as Helen rose to follow Adam and Jane. It was almost midnight, and the children and grandparents had retired to bed hours ago, worn out by the early start and the hullaballoo of a family Christmas. The four of them had stayed up, drinking, pretending to watch television, and undoubtedly thinking how similar and yet how vastly different it was from all the other evenings they had spent together.
Helen had a fluttering suspicion that Adam was deliberately staying up to prevent her being alone with Daniel, confirmed when he shot her a look of alarm when Daniel made his suggestion. Quite what he feared was lost on Helen, nor did she understand his whispered instruction to ‘be careful and remember the scarf’ after she agreed to another drink.
Daniel poured them both a glass of wine, and sat down on the sofa opposite Helen. His camera lay beside him on the sofa arm, and he picked it up and switched it on.
‘There are some great shots here,’ he said, a smile bursting to his lips as he reviewed the photos. The camera had hardly been out of his hand all day. ‘Look.’
He leaned across and showed Helen a picture of Megan, absolute wonder on her face as she unwrapped her bike. He scrolled on, shot after shot of Megan, virtually every minute of Christmas captured. He paused as an image flashed up of Helen with Megan, both laughing as Helen tickled Megan to chase away the shock of the first tumble from the bike. She hadn’t realised he’d been taking pictures of her.
‘I’ll send you copies,’ he said, turning off the camera and sitting back down. He drank some of his wine, his finger drumming against the glass. ‘Do you think she enjoyed the day?’
‘Of course she did,’ Helen replied, surprised he even needed to ask given the overwhelming photographic evidence he’d produced.
‘As much as other Christmases?’
‘More,’ she said, and it was the honest answer, not just the one she knew he was hoping to hear. ‘She loved having you here. You can’t doubt it.’
And nor could she, more’s the pity. She offered him comfort at the sacrifice of her own. It had made Megan’s day to have Daniel there. He was a more welcome visitor than Father Christmas. How was Helen ever to persuade her – and him, for that matter – that it was a one off? Tasha wouldn’t be absent every year. Extended families might manage happy Christmases together in TV drama, but Helen had no intention of trying it.
‘I love her,’ Daniel said, the emotion raw on his face. His hand lifted in a slight flap of bewilderment. ‘I wouldn’t have believed I could feel this way. I want to be with her all the time.’
‘I know.’ What else could Helen say? She felt exactly the same. But their feelings were mutually exclusive. They couldn’t both be with her. A chill of premonition spread through her, and she drank her wine, dreading where she realised this conversation was now
heading.
‘We need to arrange formal access,’ Daniel said, the emotion now switched off. Helen understood. This was business. This had been his ulterior motive in inviting her to stay for a drink. Adam had been right to be alarmed. ‘I’m sure we can agree something between us, and only involve lawyers as a last resort. I thought she could stay with you during the week, and spend weekends with me.’
‘Every weekend?’ Wine spilled over Helen’s hand. ‘No. That’s not going to happen.’ She had to put down her glass, her hand was shaking so much. ‘How can you even ask that? I work in the week. We would only have Monday together, and not even that when school starts.’
‘You don’t have to work. Give up the shop, take Megan out of nursery, and you can have every day with her. I’ve spoken to Patrick, and he’d be happy to reinstate your allowance. With the maintenance payments I’ve offered, you’ll be much better off than you are now. It will be more like the life you were used to.’
But the life she had been used to was with him, and he wasn’t offering her that back. He was offering her less than she had now, if more than money was taken into account, and a seed of disappointment took root in her mind that he still didn’t take her seriously. Perhaps if he had offered her this when he first came back, she would have agreed to it, to keep him happy, because it was what he wanted. It was the way their relationship had always worked. But since then, she had seen how other relationships worked, based on mutual support and encouragement; and she had begun to believe in herself, as someone who had skills and talent – as a successful businesswoman, even. She wasn’t prepared to abandon four years of hard work. She had changed too much. She would rather be poor on her own money, than rich and idle on someone else’s. And how dare he speak to her father to arrange this without consulting her?
‘I won’t give up work,’ she said, determination sobering her up better than any amount of coffee. ‘I want to support Megan. I want something to do when she’s at school, and I want her to grow up and be proud of me. I’m good at it,’ she added, remembering Joel’s words, and his enthusiasm. ‘I’m winning more and more commissions. I’m launching a new website, and I’m going to make a success of this.’
A twitch of the eyebrow was the only response. She couldn’t tell what it meant, but it certainly didn’t suggest pride, or admiration, or whatever else she might have hoped for.
‘You’re expecting too much,’ Helen said, goaded into challenging him. ‘It’s too big a step to take her away from me for a whole weekend, when she’s still so young, and you’re still…’ A relative stranger, she had been on the verge of saying, and how apt that would have been. Apt, but unhelpful to her cause, she realised in time to let the words die on her tongue.
‘Very well,’ Daniel replied, and his instant acquiescence made Helen suspect that she’d been played: he had demanded her worst-case scenario, so she would agree a compromise that he had really wanted all the time. ‘We’ll start slowly. I’ll have her for the day every Sunday, and she’ll sleep at my house every other Saturday night. We’ll build up from there. Eventually I’ll collect her from school on Friday, and take her there on Monday morning.’
This had turned into the least merry Christmas Helen could remember. Three nights without Megan? Was he serious? But he was, there was no mistaking the expression in his eyes, in no way dimmed by alcohol. She wished he had never come back. She wished Megan was still her secret. Tears of frustration rolled silently down her cheeks, and she didn’t try to hide them. Daniel was so keen to give himself the role of victim. Let him see that he wasn’t the only one hurting here.
He watched her for several seconds, saying nothing, revealing nothing. Then he crossed the room, sat beside her on the sofa, wound his arm round her back and pulled her to him. It was a clumsy move. They banged heads, and he had to slacken his grip so she could wriggle to rest her head on his shoulder, her tears dampening his shirt. The shock was almost enough to stop the flow. They simply didn’t do this. Their relationship had been extreme, either rowing or making up, always when Helen had backed down. There had been no in-between, no gentleness, no hugs. Familiar as Daniel was, this felt wholly alien. Helen drew back.
‘Sorry,’ she said, stretching over the arm of the sofa to reach for a tissue. ‘I can’t take alcohol like I used to. Don’t ever suggest a nightcap again.’
She regretted the words immediately. Did it sound like she was expecting more late nights together? His eyes settled on hers, navy blue in the light of the lamps.
‘We’ve made a mess of things, haven’t we?’
‘You mean I have,’ she replied flatly, wiping the residue of the tears from her eyes. The moment of empathy hadn’t lasted long, she thought. ‘Or do you simply mean I look a mess? I’m not a pretty crier. Perhaps that’s why I never did it before.’
‘You look as…’ He stopped, leaned back against the sofa. ‘I’m still getting used to the hair.’
‘It can’t be that much of a surprise. You knew I wasn’t a natural blonde.’
‘I like it,’ he said, and smiled. ‘But I wasn’t talking about your looks. This situation is a mess. Neither of us has what we want.’
‘No. But I chose to have the baby, and you did want to go to Hong Kong.’ She looked at him. ‘How was it? Honestly?’
His response was carefully weighed, as always, but in the end it was simple.
‘Fantastic. Everything we hoped it would be.’
A flash of regret whisked across her face and he caught it. He leaned towards her, eyes roving over her face to read any other thoughts.
‘Do you wish you’d come?’
It was the impossible question. How could she wish she’d gone, when that would mean unwishing Megan and the last four years? But she’d asked him to answer honestly, and she had to do the same.
‘What do you think? I was twenty-five, no ties, no responsibilities, and was offered the chance of a lifetime to live in Hong Kong for a few years with…’ She paused. The man she loved, she had been about to say, but it wasn’t appropriate, was it? ‘I wanted to go every bit as much as you. I’d been feeling restless here, and thought it would give us back what we had in London. But it would never have worked with a baby, we both know that. Only one of us could go, and it had to be you. And I can’t regret my choice. Megan has given me a million times more happiness than Hong Kong ever could.’
Daniel looked at her for a long time.
‘It wasn’t the same without you.’
Helen smiled, though his words were like jagged shards of glass piercing her heart.
‘Bringing up Megan wasn’t the same without you. But I suppose neither of us can say it would have been better together. How could we know?’ She stood up, too tired, too drunk and too emotional to be having this conversation. ‘There’s nothing unusual about parents living apart. We’ll work it out. We have to, for Megan.’
His answer was so late, and so quiet, that Helen was halfway through the door when it came, and she was sure she must have misheard him.
‘We’ll see.’
CHAPTER 26
Helen had one day after returning from Surrey to prepare her shop for the grand opening of the Hay Barn. Megan’s nursery was still closed, so Daniel had offered to look after her for a couple of days, and Valerie would step in for the next two, when Daniel had returned to work. Helen had no idea how she would have managed without them.
Only Helen and Fiona were at the Hay Barn that day. Saskia and Malcolm had clearly been busy over Christmas, and Helen could see as she peered through their shop windows that they were ready for opening. Fiona’s cards and invitations were made to order, so it was the work of no more than a couple of hours to set up her display of samples. Though she helped Helen for as long as she could, she was meeting friends for lunch and couldn’t stay. By midday, Helen was on her own, with more than half the boxes still unpacked. She stared at the chaos that was her shop. It seemed an insurmountable task to make this ready for the morning.
‘Will the boxes magically unpack themselves if you stare at them long enough?’
Helen spun round at the sound of Joel’s voice, a smile on her lips already.
‘Unpacking isn’t the problem,’ she said, drinking in the sight of the dimples and the curls. ‘It’s what to do with everything when it’s unpacked.’
‘Don’t tell me the shop isn’t big enough? You must be a phenomenal businesswoman if you need to expand before you’ve even opened.’
‘Phenomenally messy.’ Helen laughed, waving her hand around. ‘I’m never going to open at this rate. The other shops look great. I’m letting the side down.’
‘You could never do that. Saskia and Malcolm were here most of yesterday, and had help. Are you on your own?’
Helen nodded. ‘Can you believe Megan would rather play Barbie than do some work here? I thought having a girl would guarantee me a free shop assistant. Something has gone terribly wrong.’
Joel laughed, his lovely deep burble, and moved closer.
‘Will I do as your shop assistant for the day?’
‘Seriously? You’re willing to help?’
‘If you think I can.’
‘Look at the state of the place. If a monkey came offering assistance I’d be overjoyed at this point.’
‘Are the hairy body and red bum prerequisites? If not, I’m all yours.’ As Helen laughed, he continued. ‘Sorry. I expect you’re too posh to use the word bum. What should I have said? A scarlet derrière?’
‘You forget I have a four-year-old. Bottoms and bodily functions are our main topics of conversation. Quite frankly, I’m so desperate I wouldn’t care if your bum was neon green with pink polka dots.’
‘For the record, it’s not. I’m happy to help, but I can’t offer my services for free.’
‘No?’
‘No. I’m good for nothing when I’m hungry. Have you eaten?’ Helen shook her head. Food had never crossed her mind. ‘Okay. The price of my help is that you come for lunch first.’
