Since You've Been Gone

by Anouska Knight

  I’d forgotten that Ciaran had been someone’s territory, too. And probably always would be.

  “Oooh! Holly, get Rob!”

  Ciaran followed me outside. “Where’s her husband?” he asked.

  “Stuck at Beckersley Station,” I said, trying not to look at him. “He’s not going to make it. He’s going to miss the birth of his first child, and my mother is going to hold it against him for the rest of his life.”

  “I’ll get him,” Ciaran said, reaching for my arm. “Don’t worry. What does he look like?”

  Two more nurses on the desk were watching us, smiling. I couldn’t let him go for Rob. The lines had already been blurred. I needed to undo this before it went any further. Before any more feelings grew.

  Another gargled scream from Martha’s room.

  Think, Holly, think.

  “Holly, what does he look like?” Ciaran repeated.

  The nurses were still listening in to us. Ciaran was oblivious, staring at me.

  Rob cannot miss their baby being born.

  “Holly?” he said.

  Martha cried out again.

  I was all out of ideas.

  “A little taller than you, short neat brown hair, big build. Look of panic on his face. He’ll be stood at the entrance to the station.”

  The midwife left Martha’s room, leaving the door swinging slowly closed behind her. From her bed, Martha was allowed just enough of a sight line to see Ciaran kiss me goodbye.

  chapter 28

  An hour and nine minutes, two centimetres and a broken sac of amniotic fluid later—at least I think that's what they called it—and Martha was finally breaking Rob’s hand, and no longer mine.

  I’d thanked Ciaran briefly at the door and said goodbye to him, resuming my cheerleading duties. He was a problem for another day. Today was for Martha now. Martha and her little family.

  “That’s it, Martha. Little pushes, little pushes! And, now...pant! Pant, Martha,” the midwife instructed.

  “Pant, Martha!” Rob and I uselessly chorused, following the midwife’s lead. Rob was on the frontline, while I hung back on the periphery.

  Martha’s expression turned from pained to panicked. “Have I pooed?”

  What?

  Martha’s voice elevated. “Oh, no, I think I have! Holly... Have I pooed, Holly?”

  The second midwife who had joined the melee took a small neatly wrapped package away with her. I didn’t think it was the baby. I looked at Martha, her scarlet chin buried into her chest, and shrugged, cluelessly. Uselessly. Again.

  Martha squealed a new squeal that made my skin go cold.

  “Well done, Martha!” came the midwife’s sing-song voice. “Now I can see Baby’s head. Look, Daddy, can you see?”

  I was curious then, closing in just enough to see a shock of dark hair.

  “Martha! He’s got hair!” I yelped. Martha didn’t care if he had horns.

  The midwife geared up again. “Just another push, Martha, and... That’s it, push down into your bottom. Keep pushing, keep pushing....”

  My sister’s last guttural scream broke, and from under it a faint but unmistakable newborn cry. I felt the ecstasy fill me up, as if a switch had been flipped and all the fear had been blown out of the room.

  “It’s a girl! Our little girl. Martha, it’s a girl!” Rob sobbed, showering his wife with a storm of relieved kisses.

  It wasn’t the relief I felt for my sister, or my new niece even, that saw me start blubbing like a big girl, but the pride in Rob’s voice as he presented his wife with their tiny daughter. I peered over his shoulder and gazed at the beautiful bundle on her mother’s chest. Rob was still crying, Martha just looked wasted and the little girl lay wide-eyed at her mummy.

  “Well done, guys,” I managed between tears. “She’s perfect. Absolutely perfect.”

  After all fingers and toes had been counted, I left them alone. Partly to let them solidify their new unit, and partly so I didn’t have to watch Martha being stitched.

  Out in the hall, a pair of familiar boots stretched out from the chair where Ciaran had been waiting.

  “Hey,” he said, getting to his feet.

  “Hi. I thought you’d gone home.” I didn’t want to feel glad that he was still here.

  “I thought I’d stick around, make sure you could get home okay. Is everyone...well?”

  “Everyone’s...wonderful.” I smiled.

  The door opened.

  “Ciaran! I’m a father!” Rob declared, bursting with pride.

  “Congratulations, Rob. I’m thrilled for you, pal,” Ciaran said, shaking Rob’s hand. “Give her my best.” He grinned.

  “Come and have a look! She’s beautiful!” Rob said, thumping Ciaran’s back.

  Ciaran looked at me—for guidance, I think.

  “Rob, I think Martha’s being...”

  “Not for a minute. Come on in! You haven’t held her yet, Hol.” Rob ushered us both back in, where Martha looked a lot more with it, proudly gazing at her swaddled daughter.

  “Hey, girl,” I said softly. “Can I have a squidge?”

  Martha looked radiant, awash with something new. She smiled at Ciaran as he came to stand next to me, but it wasn’t for him; it was all for the little one.

  Rob couldn’t take his eyes off her, either. “Ciaran, Holly, I’d like to introduce you to our daughter, Daisy Grace.”

  “Daisy! Baby Daisy.” I tried it out on my tongue. “I love it, guys. It suits her.” I smiled, gently rocking my delightful new niece in my arms.

  “What do you think, Ciaran? You know, for the man vote?” Rob asked, certain of his approval.

  Ciaran’s thumb had found its way under the fragile clasp of Daisy’s minute fingers.

  “My mother was named Grace. It’s an excellent choice, my friend.”

  “Oh!” Martha smiled. “That’s lovely! I’m hoping she’ll live up to it, for her nanny’s sake.”

  “Well,” Ciaran replied, “it worked for my mother, the most gracious woman I ever met. She’d have made an excellent grandmother.”

  “You never know, mate—there’s still time,” Rob added, slapping Ciaran on the back.

  Ciaran carried on running his enormous fingers over Daisy’s.

  “Ciaran’s mother passed away,” I said, saving Rob from digging any deeper.

  “Oh...that’s too bad, mate. I’m sorry,” Rob said, slapping gentler this time.

  Ciaran smiled at Daisy. “I keep her close. She was a beauty, like this wee one here. I always worried that I might forget how beautiful she was, y’know? Over the years. So I had my favourite picture of her tattooed on my shoulder.”

  The midwife entered the room carrying a small dish of very unpleasant-looking implements. “Right then, everybody who isn’t a Buckley, out you go.”

  I kissed Daisy and gave her one last look before reluctantly handing her back to Dad. “I’ll see you guys later,” I said, kissing them all.

  Rob and Ciaran shook hands. Ciaran gave Martha a kiss. The happiness in the room was tangible, as if you could swing a butterfly net around and take some home with you.

  Ciaran and I walked through the door and into the corridor together. Today had been a good day. I felt...happy. Full up. I was trying to think of something to say to him when Martha yelled from the other side of the closed door.

  “Holly Jefferson! You’ve got food colouring on my baby!”

  chapter 29

  Daisy Grace Buckley had entered into the world last night at 11:18 p.m., Thursday November seventh, weighing in at a tiny six pounds, eight ounces.

  Six pounds, eight ounces of promise, purity and an incontrovertible sentiment of new beginnings. In nine months Martha and Rob had changed the course
of their lives forever, a thought I’d turned over throughout the last four hours as I’d blitzed the bakery and made a start at replacing Jesse’s demolished roses.

  Ciaran had offered to help when he’d dropped me back here last night, but he’d already done enough, and I wasn’t sure I’d be able to face the embarrassment of seeing it all with him. He had some important meeting to get ready for today but said we’d catch up either Saturday or Sunday.

  I’d given Jess the morning off to compensate for yesterday, and also so he wouldn’t bust me hiding the evidence of what had happened here. Ciaran was all around me now. At the house I’d returned to last night, made beautiful again, and here at the bakery, in the chaos I’d scurried to put right. Somehow, unexpectedly, I’d held it together at both. A phenomenon I now regarded as the Daisy effect.

  When Jess walked in, headphones clamped to his head, I’d nearly replaced all of the roses.

  “All right, Hol?” he asked, eyeing what I was doing.

  “Yes, thanks. You?”

  “Yesss... What’s up, you look shifty. Do you know you’ve got purple food colouring around your mouth?”

  Yes, I knew. A lengthy spell in the shower hadn’t done much about that. Luckily, I had the ultimate curveball to throw him off.

  “Do I look like an aunt?”

  Jess’s face shone. “No way! Martha finally had a visit from the stork? Nice one, Hol,” he said, hugging me into his huge frame. “What colour did she get?”

  “Pink.” I smiled. “Daisy Grace Buckley. Good enough to eat!”

  “What are you doing here, then? I can hold the fort. Go coo over her, or whatever you girls do,” Jess said, wriggling from his backpack. “You’re off now for the fortnight anyway. A few more hours isn’t going to make much difference.”

  On doctor’s advice, I’d taken the same time off last year.

  It would’ve been Charlie’s twenty-ninth birthday on Sunday. Two days later his mother would be here to spend the day in our home, along with Martha and Rob, and now my parents, too, so we could all toast his memory and remind ourselves what a crippling loss he was.

  Last year had been horrific. I’d spent his birthday in bed, much of the next day, too, until Martha had threatened me with a call to Minorca. I wanted my parents to stay where they were, so I’d limped through the following day like a zombie, trying to blank out the sounds of Catherine’s sobs, surfacing at any given moment. Charlie was my world, but he was her child. I couldn’t cope with her pain sat piggyback on my own.

  But that was last year.

  This year I couldn’t avoid the inevitable. My parents were already trying to book tickets back to the UK to meet Daisy, but it wasn’t enough to push me into the melancholy I’d barely survived last year. Nowhere near.

  I was feeling okay about them coming, I think was feeling okay about the week ahead in general. There would be tears, a lot of tears, but I’d get through it; I knew I could. In fact, I would do more than get through it—I would do something useful, positive. Something Charlie would have spent his time doing, like starting a vegetable patch, or tidying the garden at least. Actually, I wasn’t sure that it was the season for vegetable patches, but I could go to the garden centre, pick something out—a fruit tree maybe? We didn’t have anything that blossomed.

  “So? Are you going or what?” Jess asked.

  “No, I’m staying. You’ve covered for me a lot lately, Mr Ray. Let’s get through the rest of these roses. I’ll miss you when I’m off.”

  * * *

  Martha had taken to motherhood like a duck to water. I’d been at their place this morning when Rob had brought his two favourite girls home to a house festooned with pink helium balloons and flowers. I should get some flowers for the cottage, to brighten up the place when Catherine came on Tuesday. It had been months since we’d seen each other.

  Driving back to Brindley’s Nook, it was an unseasonably bright morning, perfect for a walk over the forest with Dave.

  Mrs. Hedley let me borrow her truck, and Dave and I were off for a stint up the woods. The sun was notably lower with the passing weeks, throwing long reaching shadows across the road where it weaved between the trees.

  I slowed a little on the approach to where the fork would take me either the long route around, or directly along the stretch where Charlie’s accident had been.

  New beginnings. I couldn’t just keep waiting for my life to mend itself. I had to try, too, right? I watched the left-hand turn pass me by and followed the steep sweeping bend of the road to the forestry commission. There was a new speed-sensitive sign that told you how fast you were going, and several more deer warnings along the road. None of these signs would have made a difference to us, but I hoped they would make the difference for someone else.

  When the road straightened off again, I found myself looking for what had greeted me that morning.

  The glass had looked like ice at first, blending into the twinkling surface of the frosty road. The other car was the only spectacle of severity, while Charlie’s truck had looked completely normal from the back. It wasn’t until the ground began to crunch underneath my shoes that I really saw.

  Someone had tied flowers to the tree afterwards. They already hung dying when I’d next driven through. I hadn’t been down here since.

  No glass this morning, no flowers. Just a full visitor car park heaving with families eager to enjoy the beautiful morning. Ciaran had said he would call this weekend. I hadn’t told him about Charlie’s birthday tomorrow. It would be weird including him in my plans.

  But he might like to come with us now? I could keep driving and be there in another fifteen minutes anyway? The idea didn’t seem that far-fetched, which had to be good, right?

  Too late now, I’d passed the car park.

  Mrs. Hedley’s Land Rover made easy work of the cattle grids running up to the manor. Ciaran’s car was parked next to his father’s. Penny’s alongside that.

  The gong of the doorbell thrummed from behind the heavy doors.

  Mary stood, lovely as ever, behind them. “Hello, Holly! I wasn’t expecting to see you today.”

  “Hi, Mary. How are you?” I asked.

  “Oh, I’m fine. Would you like to come in?”

  “Thanks, but my dog’s in the jeep. I don’t trust him. Is Ciaran here? I thought he might like to get some fresh air with us.”

  Mary’s expression wilted a little. “I’m sorry, dear, but I don’t think he’s here.” Dainty heels snapped sharply along the hall towards us. It was the first time I’d seen Penny in trousers, and—surprise, surprise—she rocked them.

  “Oh, hello.” She smiled sweetly. “Have you come to deliver a cake?” Penny pinched cake in her throat, making it sound almost offensive.

  “No, Holly was calling on Ciaran but—”

  “But Ciaran’s not here.” Penny smiled.

  “I’m afraid I’m not sure where he is,” Mary said. “He might be in the grounds somewhere.... You could try ringing him?”

  “No point. His phone will be turned off,” Penny said, still happily fixing sly eyes on mine. “He won’t want to be disturbed, for the rest of the day, I shouldn’t think. But you could try the restaurant, if you’re desperate?”

  “Restaurant?” Mary enquired. “Are you sure? His car’s here.”

  Penny’s smile hardened. “Yes, Toby ran them to Atlas about an hour ago.... Clara looked sensational.”

  My stomach felt like an old flannel, wrung out by Penny’s spiteful words.

  “We’ll tell him you called, though, Holly. Is there a message?” Penny smirked.

  There was an edge of pity in Mary’s eyes that I couldn’t stand to look at. Not this weekend. Not when I’d done so well.

  “No. No message. Thanks, Mary.” I smiled, and got the hell out of there.

&nbs
p; * * *

  It didn’t matter, I told myself.

  It didn’t mean anything. He could do as he pleased. Who was I to even be interested in what, or who, Ciaran Argyll did? The bakery had been a...one-off. A momentary lapse, that’s all. An itch, scratched. I’d wanted an excuse to apply the brakes, and now I had one.

  Good.

  I clung to my resolution for a positive weekend in celebration of Charlie’s birthday. I was still clinging to it as I trudged over the forest, Dave dutifully behind me. But I hadn’t factored in the inclusion of ten-foot-high security fencing.

  Ciaran’s estimation of Sawyers’ development timescale of their newly acquired woodland had been generous. In six days they had barricaded the whole holly forest, banishing the prying eyes of people like me, foolish enough to have taken their infinite presence for granted.

  Then it all began to slip.

  chapter 30

  Grey light filtered through the drapes, settling on the undisturbed pillow next to me. Charlie slept nearest to the door, so he didn’t wake me if he had to go to the bathroom in the night. I slept this side now. It didn’t make much difference where I slept—the bed was still half-empty.

  Happy birthday, Charlie.

  My phone rang out on the bedside table. James Bond flashed on the display.

  Fine dining yesterday, today he fancied slumming it with a sandwich. I hit the reject button.

  Seconds later it rang again.

  “Hey, beautiful mamma,” I said, smiling into the phone. I could already hear Daisy grunting next to Martha’s face.

  “Hello, beautiful Aunty Holly!” she replied, obviously for her daughter’s benefit, too.

  I smiled again. “How was your first night at home?” I asked.

  “Good. She only woke me twice, which I think is good?”

  “Don’t ask me,” I said, stretching. “I only know dogs and cakes.”

  “So what are you up to?” she asked, testing the water.

  “I’m just finishing breakfast,” I lied.