by Kate Field
‘It’s impossible.’ Helen shook her head. ‘Daniel’s so familiar. I’ve loved him for years. And Joel…’ His smiling face filled her head, and she remembered the moment when she had removed his tie at the wedding, and when she had thought he was going to kiss her in the restaurant. Her blood pranced in her veins. ‘I don’t like this game,’ she said. ‘It’s not as if I’m ever going to have to choose for real, is it?’
‘Perhaps not. But you’ll have to choose someone someday, unless you’re planning to be on your own forever, and they’re not bad options, are they?’ Kirsty laughed. ‘Or are you holding out for an Aston Martin key to fall into the bowl?’
Thankfully the subject dropped after that, and not long afterwards they went to bed. But Helen found it hard to sleep. The wine and the champagne had stimulated rather than tired her, and she thought of the year ahead and all the changes it already held: a new shop, new home, Megan starting school, learning to share Megan’s time with Daniel… Everything was changing in all ways but one: she was still on her own. She lay in bed, trying not to listen to Kirsty and Ben having sex, and wondered if she would ever do that again. She heard Tommy whimper, and got up to see to him before he could interrupt his parents. She cuddled his sleepy warm body, inhaling his baby smell, and the knowledge that she might never again have a child of her own felt like a corkscrew spiralling slowly into her heart. She had thought that Megan was all she needed, that with Megan she had enough. So why now was she craving more?
CHAPTER 27
January rolled on, and a routine gradually fell into place. Helen worked at Church Farm on her usual days, plus Sunday when Megan was with Daniel. Keeping busy was the best way – the only way – to cope with her absence. After a couple of weeks, during which some members of the Hay Barn worked every day to keep their shops open, Joel pointed out that other artists ran reciprocal arrangements with neighbours: they would each take a different day off, trusting the other occupants to deal with any enquiries in their absence. They agreed to trial a similar arrangement in the Hay Barn, as they all knew each other’s work so well. Helen closed Crazy Little Things on Wednesday, and found a huge benefit in being able to spend the day sewing.
It was agony dropping Megan off at Daniel’s house for her to sleep over for the first time. She had decided to deliver Megan herself to extract every last minute they could be together. She regretted her decision as soon as she saw Tasha lurking in the hall behind Daniel, newly returned from Australia, and looking tanned and more gorgeous than ever. Her own skin seemed to dull as she looked at her. Imagining her putting Megan to bed and giving her a goodnight kiss was absolute torture. Helen refused to go in, and barely managed to hold herself together long enough to drive home. Joel found her sobbing in her car outside the cottages, and took her to his house for a comforting hug and cup of tea. Helen let Daniel collect Megan the next time.
The weekend of the craft fair in London arrived, and the group from the Hay Barn caught the first train from Manchester to London on the Saturday morning, laden down with as much stock as they could carry in bags and suitcases. Malcolm’s larger canvases had been taken down the day before in a van owned by another artist. The fair was being held in a newly renovated mansion house, which was intended as a space for temporary fairs and exhibitions, and Joel met them outside and helped carry their bags up a magnificent sweeping staircase to the Church Farm area in a huge high-ceilinged room which must once have been a ballroom.
‘Amazing, isn’t it?’ Joel put Helen’s case down beside her. ‘It was busy yesterday, and today should be even better. Liz knows some journalists who are coming, so keep an eye out.’ He took a piece of paper out of his pocket and passed it to her. ‘Here’s her address for later. Sure you don’t want me to pick you up? It’s no trouble.’
‘Of course not.’ Liz had invited Helen to dinner at her house to discuss the crazy patchwork. Joel was staying with her, while the Hay Barn group were booked into a hotel. ‘I lived in London for five years. I’m sure I can remember how the Tube works.’
‘Get a taxi,’ Joel began, but Saskia demanded his help and he hurried away.
Helen loved being able to focus entirely on her crazy patchwork. She sold several pieces, was interviewed by a journalist for a possible article on up-and-coming artists, and was asked to submit designs for two potential large commissions. The day paid for itself many times over, and that wasn’t even the best of it. As they were packing up, a lady whom Helen had seen hovering several times approached and asked if she would be interested in submitting a proposal for a book of crazy patchwork designs. She thought Helen and her work were hugely marketable. Helen felt drunk on happiness before her night out had even begun.
Liz lived with her partner John in a classic stucco-fronted building in Kensington, in a two-bedroom apartment divided over three floors.
‘This place is gorgeous,’ Helen said, as soon as Liz opened the front door.
‘Wait until you see inside,’ Liz replied, with a laughing wink. She lowered her voice. ‘One of the many advantages of falling for a successful older man.’
‘I heard that.’ John appeared behind her. Joel had warned her there was an age gap: John was tall and silver haired, in his late fifties but still handsome. ‘What she means is I’m so old that I bought this place before the property market in London exploded.’ He smiled and kissed Helen on both cheeks. ‘Let me take your coat and scarf. Joel’s upstairs in the living room.’
Running footsteps were heard on the stairs.
‘He was,’ Liz corrected, exchanging a look and a smile with John. Joel skidded to a halt in the hall, confronted by three amused faces. ‘We were about to bring her up. There’s no need to be impatient.’
‘That’s exactly the kind of comment I dashed down to prevent,’ Joel replied, grinning at Helen. ‘Can we stop the embarrassing big-sister act now?’ He approached Helen and kissed her, wrapping her in his delicious woody scent as he did. ‘I’d say you look beautiful, but it might set her off again.’ His eyes still said it: she could read it loud and clear.
‘Don’t worry,’ Helen replied, laughing. ‘I’ll say you look awful, and that will be the end of it.’ Joel laughed, and led Helen upstairs. Of course he wasn’t looking awful; quite the opposite. In a grey shirt, dark jeans and with hair still slightly damp from the shower, Helen was finding it hard to take her eyes off him.
The living room was a shrine to grown up, child-free living, all blond wooden floors and enormous neutral sofas on either side of a giant coffee table that looked more like a sculpture than a piece of furniture. Accepting a glass of perfectly chilled white wine, Helen couldn’t help contrasting this life with hers.
‘I know you’re the expert in interior design,’ she said, looking round, ‘but do you know what this room needs? Some plastic toys sprouting out of the sofa, random crumbs and sticky fingerprints.’
‘Don’t even joke about it.’ John laughed and gestured for Helen to sit down on one of the sofas. Joel sat down beside her. ‘I have two daughters in their twenties. I’m seriously worried they may be banned from visiting if they ever dare to have babies.’
‘I have it all worked out,’ Liz replied. ‘I know where to find industrial-sized rolls of plastic sheeting.’
‘For the flat or the babies?’ Joel grinned.
‘The flat, obviously. As if I’d shrink wrap my step-grandchildren. Or my nephews and nieces,’ she added, with a pointed look at Joel.
The evening rushed away in a pleasant haze of good food, wine and laughter. Helen relaxed in a way that she hadn’t felt she could for years, knowing that Megan was safe, and that she was off duty for once. It was as if the evening had reminded her of who she was, and that a whole part of her still existed beyond being a mother. And for once she didn’t feel guilty for thinking that way. She felt… exhilarated. And acutely conscious of Joel looking at her, listening to every word she said, being close, brushing against her… Every sense seemed more alive than normal.
&n
bsp; ‘It’s a long time since I’ve seen Joel smile so much,’ Liz said, as she and Helen made coffee in the glossy white kitchen.
‘Really? He smiles more than anyone I’ve ever met.’
‘He used to,’ Liz said, bending into a cupboard to pull out a designer set of coffee cups which Helen suspected had cost more than she earned in a week. ‘All that business in Bristol knocked him badly. You know about that?’
‘A little,’ Helen replied, torn between curiosity and a sense that this was none of her business. ‘He mentioned that he’d broken up with someone.’
‘That’s quite an understatement. You know he was on the point of proposing when he found out that Fliss was already married? Everything was planned: surprise weekend in Venice, best room in the best hotel, the most incredible ring, specially designed for her. She later claimed to be separated, but she’d still kept it a secret and Joel knew nothing about it until her husband turned up at the office two days before they were due to fly out. He was devastated. He took off, without a word to anyone. We were on the point of calling the police.’ Liz laughed, as she set out the coffee tray. ‘It sounds melodramatic now, but it was so unlike him. He’s as honest and straightforward as they come. Never a day’s worry since the day he was born, Mum has always said.’ Liz smiled as she handed Helen a plate of chocolates to carry through. ‘It’s great to see him so happy now.’
‘We’re not…’ Helen began.
‘I know. Think about it though, won’t you? The connection between you is obvious. And I know from bitter experience how tough it is to find a good bloke. You must be even more wary with Megan to consider. But have you seen how he dotes on those damn cats? Only imagine how he would be with children.’
Helen didn’t need to imagine. She had seen how at ease he was with Megan. He would be a great father, given the chance. She felt a surge of anger at the unknown Fliss for hurting him; chased on its heels by a surge of relief that she had. Helen would never have met him otherwise, and where would she have been then? No job, no home and no Joel. And why, out of everything, did the latter seem the biggest potential loss?
‘I promise I’ll think about it.’ Helen laughed. ‘Is this a well-rehearsed sales pitch?’
‘I’ve never done it before. I’m more likely to try to scare off the women I don’t like, especially after Fliss. I mean, how could she have done that to him? Some women are toxic, and shouldn’t be allowed near a man.’ Liz hesitated, her back against the kitchen door, ready to push it open. She smiled. ‘But I’ve never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you. And as you give him the same look back, I can’t believe you would ever hurt him.’
Over coffee, Liz studied Helen’s portfolio, and made a list of the pieces she wanted Helen to make, specifying the colour schemes and theme of the decorative embroidery.
‘I won’t use it all,’ she said, ‘but if I have it to hand I can play about and see what works best. I’ll be at Church Farm for Dad’s birthday in five weeks, so could pick it up if you can manage that?’
Helen agreed, though it was a tight deadline with her normal work as well.
‘Is it a special birthday?’ she asked.
‘Seventy,’ Joel said. ‘Not special, according to him, but we’re going to make a fuss anyway, whether he likes it or not. There’s even a rumour that Ruth may manage to find her way down from Scotland for the occasion.’
‘Just make sure he’s around that day. When my father was sixty, my mother organised a huge surprise party for him. He never turned up. He’d flown out to Germany on business that morning and forgotten to tell her.’
‘Were you hiding behind the sofa for days, waiting to shout surprise?’ Joel asked, laughing.
‘Not quite. We were in a hotel, so they had to kick us out eventually. It was still a great party.’
‘It’s not Patrick Walters, is it?’ John said. Helen nodded. ‘I remember hearing about that. It was at Claridges, wasn’t it? I’ve thought all night you reminded me of someone. I met him a few years ago when our companies worked together. How is he? Didn’t he receive a CBE a couple of years back?’
‘Yes, for services to business and charity. He’s sold his company, but still works at least as many hours as CEO of a Catholic aid agency.’
Helen became conscious of Joel staring at her. He looked puzzled.
‘Your dad has a CBE? You never said you were that posh.’
‘I’m not. And it wasn’t a secret,’ Helen rushed to assure him. ‘It had nothing to do with me.’ She laughed. ‘I was definitely a hindrance, not a help to his success.’
Eventually Helen rose to go, reluctantly remembering that she was on an early train the next morning. John directed her to the best place to find a taxi, and Joel offered to come with her – to the taxi rank, she thought. But as he opened the door of the cab, and she turned, wondering how ever to thank him for today – for everything – he steered her into the taxi and jumped in behind.
‘I thought you were staying with Liz,’ she said, as he fastened his seatbelt.
‘I am, but I’ll sleep better once I’ve seen you walk safely through the doors of your hotel.’
Slightly drunk, slightly tired, and still totally exhilarated by the success of the day, Helen merely nodded. She leaned her head back, watching the lights of London race past the window, aware that Joel was watching her.
‘Dinner was fun,’ she said at last, rolling her head back to face him. ‘This is how life used to be.’
‘Fun?’ She could see him smiling in the half light. ‘Isn’t it fun now?’
‘Sometimes. With Megan. But not like this.’ She waved her arm, hardly knowing herself what she meant by it. She saw him nod.
‘How many times since Megan was born have you got away, and done something purely for yourself?’
‘Never.’
‘Exactly. You need more time to be Helen, the woman, not just Megan’s mum. And no,’ he added, smiling as she opened her mouth, ‘that doesn’t make you a bad mother. My mum took a fortnight’s holiday by herself every year. She said it taught her to appreciate the other fifty weeks with us. She’s the worlds’ best mum. I’d say you come a close second.’
How could he know what she was thinking? Did he mean it? She wasn’t even sure she cared. The taxi turned a sharp left, and Helen rolled towards Joel, her head landing on his shoulder. He lifted his arm and put it round her. She didn’t move away.
They reached the hotel and got out of the taxi. Joel asked the driver to hang on, and turned back to Helen.
‘Helen, tonight was great…’
‘Yes, I said it was fun,’ she gabbled, shivering with nerves as much as from the chill of the night air. ‘And thanks so much for today…’
‘No,’ he interrupted, and he reached out and took her hand. ‘I mean, being with you… at Liz’s house together… It felt right.’
He pulled her towards him so their scarves were touching, and bent his head until his lips were close to hers and he was looking directly into her eyes, and she knew what had to happen next, and couldn’t even have been certain which of them finally closed the gap. He kissed her with pure tenderness, his whole heart in his lips. Helen had never been kissed like that in her life. Her fingers threaded through his hair, and she was lost.
‘Oi!’ Helen was too dazed to recognise the noise as a voice at first. She felt Joel’s kiss turn into a smile against her lips as he reluctantly pulled away. Glancing round, she caught a vaguely familiar figure darting into the hotel, then realised that the sound had come from the taxi driver, who was leaning out of the window, grinning.
‘Oi, mate, are you getting a room or what? Only, the clock’s still ticking and this is costing you.’
Joel’s eyes repeated the question to Helen.
‘You should go,’ she said softly. ‘Liz is expecting you back.’
He groaned.
‘Do you have to think of other people, even now? Why can’t you be selfish for once in your life?’ He smiled, and st
roked her hair, tidying it up. The tenderness was there again, trying to reach in and curl around her heart. ‘I didn’t think the night would end like that. Hoped, maybe, but then I’ve hoped for it ever since I first saw you in St Andrew’s.’
The taxi driver gave a long beep of the horn. Joel kissed Helen again, and got in the cab. It waited until she was inside the hotel, and then drove away, but before it was even out of sight Helen’s phone beeped. She read the text:
‘Taxi driver thinks I’m an idiot to leave you. I am an idiot. Tomorrow night? Sleep well. J. x’
Sleep? Helen felt as if she’d just been woken up, like one of the princesses in Megan’s stories, and in the most delicious way. How could she fall back to sleep after that? She felt more alive than she had done in years.
CHAPTER 28
Helen woke and stretched her arm out across the bed. She buried her face in the pillow as she felt the cold and empty patch beside her. So it was true. She had let Joel kiss her like that – but there had been nothing passive about it; she had kissed Joel like that – and then sent him away. She was the idiot.
She rolled over, trying to convince herself that it was better to regret nothing happening than something, and reached for her phone. Would he have sent a text yet? There was nothing, only a message from Daniel telling her what time he would drop Megan off. Helen sent a reply to him, and a good morning to Joel, and got up to meet the others for the train home.
She didn’t hear from Joel all day. He had stayed behind in London for the last day of the fair, and she told herself he would be busy. But too busy to send even a hello? After last night?
‘Is anything wrong?’ Daniel asked, after she’d handed him Megan’s strawberry milk instead of his coffee, and made him coffee with one sugar – which was how Joel took it – instead of none. ‘You seem distracted.’
‘Still thinking about yesterday,’ she replied honestly.
‘Did it go well?’
‘It was amazing. I mean, the fair was amazing,’ she added, and then could have groaned at her stupidity when Daniel raised his eyebrow at her, because what else could she have meant? He didn’t know there had been anything else, although her guilt was currently so pungent she was surprised he couldn’t smell it on her. Helen dragged her mind back to the fair. ‘Two potential commissions, a magazine feature, and I’ve been asked to draw up a proposal for a book!’
