by KE Payne
“It’s just there.”
Tag followed Skye’s pointing finger to a slightly battered Ford, parked up in the square. Freddie’s car, Tag reflected, suited her well. Colourful, spirited, full of character. No frills. Functional. Not in the least bit ostentatious. Somehow she could never envisage someone as unmaterialistic as Freddie ever having anything remotely expensive or fancy.
“Thank you.” Freddie stopped walking and held out her hand for her bag. “I appreciate it.”
“It’s no trouble.”
“So what have you got planned for the rest of the week?” Freddie hauled the boot of her car open.
Seeing you? Tag smiled inside. “For this afternoon, Dad’s paperwork at Blair’s.” Tag screwed up her nose. “There’s still so much to sort out. Insurance policies, Dad’s bank accounts, stuff like that. Tomorrow? Same, probably. Saturday and Sunday? No idea. Blair, Ellen, and Magnus are going to see Ellen’s parents down near Stirling on Saturday.”
“We’re off to the park.” Skye stood up on tiptoes. “Saturday.”
“The park?” Tag made big eyes. “Well I hope it doesn’t rain for you at the park.”
“Once we went there with Charlotte and it rained so hard we had to go under the slide.” Skye giggled to herself at the memory.
“Charlotte’s your friend?” Tag asked.
“Freddie’s friend.” Skye’s face fell. “She doesn’t live here any more.”
“If it does rain, we’ll revert to plan B.” Freddie interrupted before the conversation turned into a post-mortem about Charlotte. “DVD,” she mouthed.
“Well, I hope you have an amazing time at the park, Skye.” Tag turned to leave. Her feet slowed. “Freddie?”
“Mm?”
“I’m talking with Blair tonight. About the mill.”
“Okay.”
“And”—Tag thought on her feet—“I just realized something. If I need to ask you anything about the cafe, well, I don’t know how to get hold of you.” Her insides screamed at her ineptitude. “So I was wondering if I could have your phone number?”
“Sure.” Freddie’s phone was instantly brought out. “You ready?”
Tag nodded. She tapped in the number Freddie gave her.
“Awesome. Thanks.” Tag took a step back. “I doubt I’ll need it, but…”
Yeah, right.
“Freddie?” Skye’s quiet voice floated up. “Freddie?” Louder, with a tug on Freddie’s sleeve.
“Skye?” Freddie looked down.
“Can we invite Tag?” Skye flitted shy eyes towards Tag. “To the park? Can we?”
“I’m sure Tag’s too busy for parks, Skye.” Freddie flashed an apologetic look at Tag. “Don’t bother her.”
“It’s fine.” Tag looked down, her heart thumping. Of course she wanted to go! Ask me yourself, Freddie. Just ask. I’ll jump at the chance. “She’s not bothering me.” She poked her tongue out at Skye.
Skye hunched her shoulders up and melted into a fit of giggles. “Please can she come?” She beseeched when the giggles had passed. “Tag can tell me the story about the fox again.”
“Again?” Tag widened her eyes. “I told it to you twice last night.”
“It was funny.”
“We’re going to Dover’s Park. Over by the swimming pool,” Freddie said. “Around two on Saturday. If you’ve had enough of your paperwork and fancy a bit of company, Skye would love it if you came along.” She caught herself. “And I would too.”
Tag opened her mouth to answer. The park. With a beautiful girl you like, and her kid that you think is the cutest thing ever. Then, infuriatingly, Tag’s brain decided to wrestle with her emotions: yes, she wanted nothing more than to go, but was there any point in hanging out with a couple of people she wouldn’t even be seeing again after a month? She glanced at Freddie. Any point in getting herself close to them, even though she knew she secretly wanted to?
But Freddie did say she’d like her to go.
“Are you sure?” Tag asked. She met Freddie’s eyes, searching, entreating.
“More than sure.” Freddie held her gaze. “But”—she faltered—“we’ll understand if you don’t want to come. Or you can’t come. Won’t we?” She nudged Skye.
“No, I’d like to.” Tag nodded. Fuck it. Where was the harm? “I’d like to very much. Parks beat paperwork every time.”
A hissed yes and a fist pump filtered up from Skye. A glimmer of pleasure from Freddie.
“Until Saturday, then.” Tag turned and traipsed away, head bowed over her phone. She heard the beep behind her as her text arrived in Freddie’s phone. “That’s me, in case you hadn’t guessed.” She called back over her shoulder. “Don’t delete it now, will you?” Tag twisted away, smiled into her scarf at Freddie’s response, and headed back to her car.
*
“The business has got more holes than a sieve.” Tag dropped an armful of files onto the table. “Why did he never tell you?”
“You know your father.” Ellen picked one up and opened the cover. She frowned. “If he ignored it, it would go away.”
“You see, this,” Blair said, pacing the room, “this is what you get when your stubborn bastard of a father won’t hand any control over.” He rubbed his arm irritably. “This is what you get for trying to deal with everything on your own.”
“How bad is it?” Tag asked.
“How bad?” Blair swung round. “It’s even worse than I thought.” He sank down into a chair. “You know the worse thing of all? Dad worked himself into an early grave to keep this place going. And for what? Nothing.”
“But we had our suspicions,” Ellen offered.
“We both did.” Blair dropped his head into his hands. “I kept asking to see the books but he wouldn’t let me. I knew this would happen. Just knew it.” He spoke through his fingers. “It’s all such a mess.”
“So the mill’s having a rough time of it right now,” Tag said. “It’ll pick up, won’t it?” She looked at the spreadsheet in front of her, at the sea of red that loomed out. The business had always done so well, hadn’t it? Tag frowned. During the years she was away, as her mind would drift back to Balfour—as it frequently had—she had always imagined the mill being as she’d left it. A hive of industry, a success. Not the limping, sickly business she was now rapidly realizing it had become.
“According to these accounts,” Blair said, jabbing his finger on one of the files, “it’s been having a rough time for years.” He scratched irritably at his cheek. “I told him. I told him we needed to change things up a bit, especially after the bypass opened and took trade away, but would he listen? No. Just kept saying people relied on him and the mill had worked fine for hundreds of years and—”
“He never listened because to him that would mean defeat,” Ellen, ever the realist, said. “And your father would never admit defeat.”
“Well I wish he would’ve, rather than just ploughing on regardless.” Blair clenched a fist and released it again. “Then I wouldn’t be having to pick up the pieces now.”
Tag watched him slump back in his chair, staring in defiance at the files on the table in front of him. They both knew what their father was like; never one for communicating at the best of times, it was obvious to Tag now that he had told Blair nothing of the troubles the mill was in. Nothing about their debts, the red reminders, the cancelled orders. Why? Did Adam really think he could deal with it all on his own? Hide his head in the sand and hope it would go away? Tag looked at the files. Nope, those files were going nowhere.
She hadn’t wanted to scrutinize the damn accounts in the first place. Leaving Freddie at her car to return to Glenside, when all Tag had wanted to do was hop in her car with her and spend the rest of the day with her and Skye, had been agony.
Where were they now? Back at home? Tag’s mind took itself over to Lyster and tried to imagine the set-up there. What sort of cottage did they live in? Large? Small? Cosy? She smiled. Definitely cosy.
“Have you tol
d Freddie?” Tag plonked herself down opposite Blair. “She needs to know.” Her name was out before she’d even realized.
“Why just Freddie?” Blair frowned, irritated. “They all need to know. Tom, Vernon. All of them.”
“Because…” Because Freddie is always the one person at the front of my mind. Because Freddie matters. And Skye, and…
“Freddie does need to know before anyone else.” Ellen voiced Tag’s concerns. “She’s the thread that keeps this place together.”
Freddie was the thread. Butterflies released themselves from some invisible net deep inside Tag. Freddie mattered to them all.
“She needs to—?” Blair glared at Ellen, then checked himself.
Tag read his expression. It was unfair of him to be mad at Ellen. She saw his face soften. Without Ellen, Tag knew Blair would be lost. She was the one who held their family together; she was the one who got things done, made the decisions. Without her steadying influence? The mill would be closed within a month, Tag knew.
“She’s like family to us, Blair.” Ellen pulled a file towards her and flipped it open. “She’s been with us through thick and thin. She needs to know if we have a problem. Which we do.” She ran her finger down the page, then went to the next one, reading down a list of figures. “The gift shop, the cafe. Both running at losses.”
“So there you go,” Blair said, looking at Tag. “If you really have only come back for the money, you’re going to be in for a nasty surprise.”
“You’re still banging that drum, are you?” Tag shook her head. Seriously? Still?
“If you’ve come back hoping for a nice fat inheritance,” Blair said, shrugging, “then you’re going to be disappointed. That’s all I’m saying.”
“Why do you have to be so bitter all the time?” Memories of her chance meeting with Freddie, coupled with the anticipation of hanging out with her at the park in a few days’ time, were dashed by Blair’s cruel words.
“How can you think that’s all she wants?” Ellen asked. At least she had Tag’s back.
“Why else would she come back?” Blair lifted a childish shoulder, avoiding eye contact with them both.
“Because she loves you?” Ellen responded furiously. “Because her father dying has made her realize you’re all she’s got left?”
Tag watched in silence.
“Me and Dad were all she had left years ago,” Blair argued. “But we weren’t enough for you then, were we?” Finally he addressed Tag. He picked up a file and hurled it across the room. “And now you swan up here and—”
“Grow up, Blair.” Tag walked to the file and retrieved it.
The colour drained from his face. “I’m a farmer, Tag. What do I know about running a business?” He entreated her. “My life’s been spent in the fields, not sitting in front of files with figures I don’t understand.”
“Then let me help you,” Tag said, returning to the table.
“I adored you.”
“I’m sorry?” Tag looked up. Had she misheard?
“You were my little sister and I would have done anything for you,” Blair said. He squeezed his eyes shut. “You never had to worry about bullies in the school playground, or boys pestering you for dates when you clearly weren’t interested in them.”
“I know, but—”
Blair held up a hand. “I defended you when you told Dad you were gay, and that you’d been dating a girl in the next town for the last four months.”
“And squared up to him in the bakery when he’d not been able to accept it initially.” Tag grinned. “I remember.”
Blair had always had her back. He was her rock, her protector, and he’d promised her back then that he would always look out for her. Tag looked across at her brother, to the weary eyes, the slumped shoulders. If only she’d not forced him to break his promise.
“I’ve had nine years to get used to the idea you were never coming back.” Her brother opened a file and peered down at it, unable to meet her eye. “I programmed my brain to forget I had a sister, but seeing you again has made me miss you all over again.”
“But now I’m here.” Tag reached over and closed the file.
“But for how long?” He stood up. “You’ll sort out everything you need to here, then go back to England, and I’ll lose you all over again.”
Tag stared at him. Was that what he thought of her? Always running? England was so far from her thoughts right now. Her old life? Lost to her in amongst all her new and exciting feelings of being home and finding Freddie. Her mind scurried back to Freddie. Her mood darkened. Was that what Freddie thought of her too? Unreliable, unpredictable Tag who fled at the first sign of trouble?
“I’m not like that any more.” She was saying it to Freddie as much as to Blair. Trying to make her understand how she felt about her, imploring her to feel the same way. “You have to trust me that I won’t let you down. Just give me a chance?”
“Prove it.” Blair shrugged. Freddie disappeared. “Prove to us all that you mean it.”
To them all?
Tag’s resolve hardened. She knew she was genuine. Reliable. Even if Blair and Freddie had their doubts, Tag knew that craving their respect and gaining their trust would be all the encouragement she needed to prove her sincerity to them.
“I will.” Tag stood and faced Blair. Freddie needed her. Skye needed her. Blair and Magnus too. They all did. “I’ll show you all I mean every word I say.”
Chapter Eleven
The ceiling that Tag stared up at the next morning, once she’d shaken the fog of sleep from her eyes, wasn’t immediately familiar. Her ceiling in Liverpool was taupe. This one was cream. And chipped. Who did she know with a chipped ceiling?
She’d just woken from the best night’s sleep she’d had since she’d arrived back in Balfour. At least she’d managed to sleep the whole night through. That had been a first. Now, staring up at Connie Booth’s chipped, cream ceiling, Tag felt better than she had done in a long time. She lay in her single bed, her mind pleasantly blank, then wondered fleetingly whether she ought to ring Anna to tell her she was working her way through the e-mails of work that Anna had been feeding her throughout the week. But the thought of getting out of her warm bed and fetching her phone, across the other side of her room, convinced her it would be better to turn over and pull the duvet up over her head instead. Work could wait. Anyway, if she told them she’d been working through her e-mails, that would have been a lie. She’d been doing everything but, because Blair had finally—after much persuasion from her and Ellen—allowed Tag to take the accounts back to the B & B with her. Any work for Anna seemed immaterial after that.
She could hear Connie moving around downstairs in the kitchen. The sounds of pans clattering against one another alerted Tag to the fact that she was, in all probability, now cooking breakfast. And cooking breakfast inevitably meant that Tag would soon have to give up the comfort of her bed, shower, and show her face down in the communal dining room. Just five more minutes. She closed her eyes again, hoping there were still few other guests staying at the B & B. The daily prospect of having to engage in polite, idle chit-chat over the bacon and eggs never filled her with glee.
Neither did the prospect of work, still waiting in her inbox. She knew she really ought to finish it. Tag pulled the duvet higher around her ears. Anna would be waiting. She wouldn’t let a small detail like bereavement leave worry her. She’d be waiting for a reply to an e-mail, getting more irritated the longer Tag took to reply. Tag buried her head down and groaned into her pillow. Why should she always jump when Anna clapped her hands? She’d always been too keen on doing that. In the office and out of it, when they’d been an item. Even afterwards, if Tag was honest. Expecting Tag to be there at her beck and call all the time.
Tag closed her eyes, feeling sleepy again. Her mind tumbled over.
The mill was in a mess. Blair was up to his eyes with it and was still, despite Tag’s speech the previous evening, showing distrust towards her i
ntentions. His cynicism towards her evidently continued to run deep. Tag squeezed her eyes shut. She needed to gen up on the business if she was to start helping to make it a success again. But she still knew so little about the place. Her name was on all the official paperwork, but she didn’t know vital details such as contracts, or even how much they paid the staff. And what about all the other, smaller details? How many pens did they sell in the shop? How many bags of flour? How many coffees and cakes in the cafe?
The cafe. Tag’s subconscious tugged towards Freddie. How much did she know about what went on up there? Maybe she could supply her figures. Percentages. Sales details.
Tag’s mind oscillated from Blair to Anna to the cafe and back again. Truth was, even though she knew she’d be seeing Freddie the next day at the park, she wanted to see her again sooner. Any excuse would do. The story of her life with Anna was always that Anna clapped and Tag jumped. Both professionally and emotionally. But Freddie? Freddie seemed like an oasis of calm in comparison. Tag doubted very much that she could make anyone jump to her demands, even if she tried.
She had Freddie’s phone number, right? She could just call her up and say she wanted to talk to her and Tim, who worked with her, about the cafe and see some accounting details. Make up some crap about Blair asking her to. Or maybe she should just go up there. Visit the cafe and then the gift shop to talk to…who ran the gift shop again? Tag blinked. No idea. But here was an idea. Perhaps Tag could go and help them both in the cafe? Then look at the books. Perfect. Anything had to be better than spending a beautiful, sunny day stuck indoors at Four Winds sifting through endless sheets of official paper. Anyway, wasn’t that’s what bosses did? Help their staff out? Even temporary bosses helped out sometimes.
