Once the Clouds Have Gone

by KE Payne

  “Pete says she’s nice.” Sarah pulled herself up onto the kitchen counter. “He likes that you’re seeing her.”

  Freddie caught Sarah’s eye, finally understanding. Pete wanted Freddie to get attached to Tag because he knew that he wouldn’t be there forever. Like a gust of wind, the realization blew at her, blowing sense and understanding in her face. Pete would be married soon. Gone, to another life with Sarah, and Freddie would be alone with Skye once more.

  “Is he trying to push us together?” Freddie stood up, suddenly annoyed. “Because if he is, he’s wrong. Tag’s not a permanent fixture in Balfour. She’s—”

  “He just wants you to be happy, Freds,” Sarah implored. “And who’s to say Tag won’t come back to visit once she’s gone? She has to, doesn’t she? For Blair and Magnus?”

  Pete had been wonderful when he’d first come to live with Freddie. One of her oldest friends, he’d known both Freddie and Laura and had been at Freddie’s side throughout Laura’s illness. He’d known Charlotte too and hadn’t hesitated in moving into their cottage to support Freddie when Charlotte had left. Sensing Freddie’s dread at having to start over alone, he’d protected her, steered her through her haze of depression and panic attacks, and had been there for her when finally she’d come out the other end. He’d never left her, despite meeting Sarah a few months later, knowing Freddie still needed him. He’d been her knight in shining armour, her shoulder to cry on, and her best mate when Freddie had felt as though the whole world had let her down. Freddie, of course, knew one day Pete would go again, and she was ready for it. But Tag, she knew, couldn’t and wouldn’t ever be his replacement.

  “I need someone permanent, Sarah,” Freddie stressed. “Okay, Tag might occasionally come back, but it’s not enough. Skye needs it too, not a temporary face in her life who comes and goes.” Her eyes slid back to the lounge. Skye was nestled in the crook of Pete’s arm. Tag’s piggy bank, retrieved once more from the mantelpiece, was clasped tightly in her hands. “Anyway, one look at Tag’s past record should be enough to tell me to steer clear of her.”

  “Because she left once before?” Sarah asked.

  “Because she left even though she knew Magnus doted on her.” Freddie reinforced her point. “What sort of person does that?”

  “A naive eighteen-year-old?” Sarah offered. “Pete’s told me all about her. I can sympathize with her, though. At eighteen all you can see is a big, wide world just waiting for you. You’re not the same person when you’re nearly thirty.” She nudged her. “We should know. Are you telling me you didn’t do things as a teenager that you regret?”

  “I guess not.” Freddie looked back to Skye. “But Magnus was about Skye’s age when she left. It just makes it personal to me. How would I feel if I let Skye get close to her, only for her to go and never come back?”

  She smiled as she watched Pete tickle Skye, Skye doubling over and nearly toppling from the sofa.

  “I want a family. Like you guys will have one day.” Freddie knew that with absolute conviction. She wanted what Pete and Sarah would eventually have together: a family unit. She wanted security and love. Someone to come home to every night. Someone to snuggle up with on the sofa, and to watch cartoons with Skye. Unity, unwavering love, and protection.

  It was something, Freddie knew with a sinking heart, that she’d never have with someone as unreliable as Tag.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Accounts from the last five years.” Blair placed a pile of files on the table in front of Tag. “Farming accounts, figures from flour production, mill accounts.” Another pile. “Receipts, staff payroll documents, farm equipment servicing receipts.” The mountain of files slowly slid into a muddle on the table.

  “Great filing system.” Tag groaned. “Half of these folders are falling apart, Blair.”

  “Blame Dad.” Blair sat opposite her. “I always told him to get an accountant in.”

  It was now Tuesday. Tag had spent the entire morning hiding away in Blair’s office at Glenside with the accounts while Blair had returned to finish ploughing the riverside fields. Now he was back, armed with yet more files. Despite still replaying her Saturday afternoon at the park with Freddie and Skye, Tag had known the sooner she knuckled down and made inroads into the mill’s accounts, the better. After all, with work out of the way, she’d have more time to play with Freddie and Skye again. It was that thought that now sustained her through the second pile of files Blair had just tossed onto the table. Hours of scrutinizing facts and figures loomed.

  Freddie loomed closer. Tag had hinted, hadn’t she? Freddie had been testing the waters, Tag had been sure of it. She smiled as she flipped a file open and pulled out a tax return statement. And now Freddie knew. What had her reaction been? She ran her finger down the line of figures and tried to pull Freddie’s expression to the front of her mind. She hadn’t stalked off, that was for sure. So that had to mean she’d liked Tag’s hint. Tag’s smile deepened. “It’s at times like this,” she said, not lifting her head, “that I wish I’d concentrated harder in maths at school.”

  “How do you think I feel?” Blair sat back. “Ask me about wheat prices, I’m your man. Anything else? Forget it.”

  “It says here on your tax return that four years ago”—Tag turned the page—“outgoings were higher than incomings. But if you look at this figure here, it looks as though it was the same the next year too.”

  “Four years ago we had that terrible summer,” Blair said. “Crops were wiped out. We had to play catch-up for a while.”

  “Where’s last year’s file?”

  Blair lunged across the table and grabbed the largest file. “Here.” He pushed it over to Tag.

  She opened it, then flipped through the pages. “Who marked all the red in here?”

  Blair pulled a face. “Dad?”

  “You don’t know?”

  “Nope.”

  “Are you being deliberately awkward?” Tag slammed the file shut. “This is important.” Important to them all. To their futures.

  “Tag, I’m just as much in the dark about all this as you,” Blair said. “This is the first time I’ve seen these files since Dad died.”

  “He never showed you?”

  “What do you think?”

  Tag inhaled slowly. “These files read like a horror story, Blair.” She opened another file. “Losses. Bills paid late. Question marks written all over everything.”

  Blair looked steadily at her. “Now can you see why I don’t want your share?” he said. “Why would anyone want one hundred percent of a failing business like this?”

  “You never knew we were in a mess?”

  “You know Dad.” Blair sighed. “He just employed me to do the wheat stuff. Work the land. Do you think he ever mentioned we were in a pickle back then?”

  “It’s so much more than just being in a bit of a pickle, Blair.” Tag pulled her hands through her hair. “I’ve just skimmed these files, and I can see how much of a mess we’re in.”

  “I’m going.” Ellen’s head poked round the door. She surveyed the situation. “Just in time, by the looks of things.”

  “Ask Tom to call me, will you?” Blair looked back over his shoulder at her.

  “You’re going up to the mill?” Tag asked. She stretched, feeling the enjoyable crick in her neck as she did so. Four hours sitting on a hard chair had done nothing for her posture.

  Ellen nodded. “Dropping off some recipe cards for Freddie.”

  Freddie? The sound of her name made any more thoughts of files disappear like dust to the wind.

  Tag cast a cursory glance at the files, then thought of Freddie. The files could wait. Hadn’t she spent enough time on them already this morning? “I’ll take you.” She rose. “I was going to go up there later anyway. Talk to Tom about stuff.” The lies flowed. They sounded credible, though.

  “Already?” Blair looked up at her. “But what about these?”

  “I’ve been here since nine this morning
, Blair.” Tag straightened her arms above her head. “If I don’t get out for five minutes I’m going to go stir-crazy.” She needed a distraction, and what better distraction than Freddie?

  “I’m not putting you out?” Ellen asked.

  For the chance to see Freddie again?

  “You’re really not,” Tag replied.

  *

  Freddie was hunched over the sink when they arrived. The cafe was empty, just two teacups left on a table the only evidence that anyone had been in. She turned at the click of the door and saw Ellen first, then Tag. It was Tag she addressed first, though.

  “Hi, again.” The easiest of smiles animated Freddie’s face when she saw Tag.

  “Hey.” Tag manoeuvred her way round the tables towards her. “Just the person I’d come to see.” Feigning surprise at seeing her. Very grown up.

  “I thought you came to see Tom?” Ellen whispered beside her. Tag chose to ignore her.

  “We brought recipe cards for you,” Tag said. “Well, Ellen did.”

  “For the counter.” Ellen slipped Tag a look. “The ones we talked about the other day?”

  “Thanks.” Freddie took them. She flicked through them and nodded. “They’re perfect.”

  “Shall we go see Tom?” Ellen motioned towards the door leading into the gristmill. “After all, that was the other reason we came up here, wasn’t it?”

  “I’ll catch you up.” Tag focused on Ellen, urging her to leave. “Bye.”

  “Okay.” Ellen flashed Tag a mischievous look. “Don’t trip over your tongue while I’m gone. It’s hanging out,” she said as she walked away from them. “See you in a bit.”

  “What did she mean?” Freddie took a cake from its cooling rack and placed it onto a plate.

  “The cakes,” Tag said hastily. She gestured to the plate. “She knows I like cakes.” Her eyes bored into Ellen’s retreating back as she disappeared back out of the door. “She’s so funny. Or at least she likes to think she is.”

  Tag took a step back as Freddie came out from behind the counter. Her eyes followed her as she grabbed a cake dish from across the other side of the cafe. Tag picked at a spot on the counter. Just talk to her. Ask her how she is.

  “So, how are you?” she asked.

  “Good. You?”

  “Same.”

  “Good.” Freddie went back to the counter.

  “Skye okay?”

  “She’s good, yeah. Keeps asking when you’re coming to the park with us again.” Freddie laughed. “I think you’re a hit with her.”

  Silence returned. Tag never thought the ticking of a clock could sound so loud.

  “So.” Tag raised her eyes upward. “I, uh, I finally got round to having a proper look at the mill’s books earlier.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. Be good to hear your thoughts on stuff sometime.”

  “You’re going to tell me it’s not as healthy as you thought it would be, aren’t you?” Freddie offered. “I already know.”

  “Sounds like you know as much as Blair does.” Tag laughed.

  “Meaning?”

  “That Dad kept things to himself.” Tag backtracked.

  “I did mention to Adam I was worried,” Freddie started. “Quite a while ago, actually.”

  “Let me guess,” Tag replied. “He told you not to worry?”

  “He told me it didn’t matter if the cafe was ever going through a rough patch,” Freddie said, “because the rest of the mill was flourishing.”

  “I think my father used to embellish the truth sometimes.”

  “Should I be concerned now?” Freddie asked slowly.

  “We should talk, for sure.” It was a noncommittal answer, but what else could Tag say?

  “Okay.” Freddie stood behind the counter. “I’m free tomorrow, if that helps?” She wiped her hands on her apron. “I’d rather talk sooner than later, if I’m honest.”

  “You have a bit of flour,” Tag said. “Tomorrow sounds good, yeah.” She waggled her finger. “Flour in your hair, I mean. You don’t need to be worried about the cafe.” A lie, but what was the point of worrying her?

  Freddie groaned. “Don’t tell me I’ve been wandering around with flour in my hair all morning.” She dusted her palm against her hair. “What time are you free to talk tomorrow?”

  “More to the back.” Tag pointed to the left-hand side of Freddie’s head. “Anytime. You could come to Glenside,” she offered. “Or we could go somewhere down in town. Away from here. Mull everything over a cup of coffee?”

  “Sure. Foxy Brown’s do an amazing mocha.” Freddie grinned. “Although perhaps I shouldn’t be saying that, considering you’re probably going to tell me I need to be encouraging more customers in here.” Freddie batted at her hair. “Gone?”

  “Nearly.”

  Freddie rolled her eyes upward and round, trying to see.

  “You’ll not see it,” Tag said. She stayed rooted to the spot. “Bit more to your left.”

  “Better?”

  “Almost.”

  More batting. The flour remained steadfast.

  “Did you actually manage to get any in the cakes?” Tag lounged against the counter, amused.

  “Funny.” Freddie tried to sound pissed off. She failed. The mischievousness on her face while she spoke didn’t help.

  “Hang on.” Tag finally pulled herself away from the counter. She stepped round the side of it and approached Freddie.

  Freddie took a step back. “It’s okay, I got it.” She yanked at a strand of hair.

  “You haven’t.” Tag brought her hand to Freddie’s hair. She flicked lightly at it and pulled a small crumb from her hair, then flicked at it some more. Their eyes were level. Tag stared at Freddie’s hair with an acute concentration she didn’t know she was even capable of. She tried desperately to halt the flow of thoughts cascading through her mind as her fingers caressed the soft strands. Erratic thoughts sparked, as if by magic, by their intimacy, thoughts of the look Freddie had given her at the park, the look on her face at Tag’s unannounced arrival in the cafe just now.

  Freddie’s breath fluttered warm and light against Tag’s skin, sending her thoughts and senses spiralling. Freddie knew Tag liked her. Their faces were inches apart. Freddie knew but she hadn’t run from the park. Lips inches apart. All Tag had to do was lean a little closer still, then Freddie would know for sure how Tag felt. Tag wouldn’t be able to stop herself from kissing her, she knew. Just another hint closer, another pull from Freddie’s eyes, and any resolve she might have had would be gone.

  Freddie focused on a point to her right. Tag was inches from her and if Freddie didn’t centralize her entire attention on the picture hanging by the door, all her resolve and everything she’d told herself the day before would be for nothing. She slowed her breathing, as if the barest hint of warm breath against Tag’s skin would tell her of her restiveness at Tag’s touch. She couldn’t allow herself to look at Tag. She mustn’t allow herself. One look back at Tag’s face, one tiny glimpse towards her, and she’d be lost in the blue depths of her eyes.

  “All gone now.” Tag, to Freddie’s relief, finally stepped back from her and hastened to the other side of the counter again.

  The atmosphere weighed thick as the silence ticked by between them. Freddie drew air slowly in, quietening her thudding heart. She must stop her heart from doing this each time she saw Tag or got close to her. No good would come of it. She must think of Skye each time her thoughts strayed to Tag and remember her responsibilities to her, rather than her own selfish emotions. That would be enough to quell her feelings, wouldn’t it? It was simple: Skye needed her. She was her priority.

  “Thanks.” Freddie finally spoke. She automatically brought her hand to her hair and tidied it up. Her hand was rock steady. But she knew her cheeks were flushed. Had Tag felt it? The atmosphere? The chemistry? Freddie’s hands were giving nothing away. Her face though…

  “Anytime.” Tag stared down hard at the counter to
p, her own hand trembling. “What time tomorrow, then?”

  “Two?”

  “Perfect.” Tag moved from the counter. “I better go speak to Tom,” she said.

  “Sure.” Freddie busied herself again at the sink. “See you tomorrow.” She looked back over her shoulder to Tag.

  “Of course.” Tag strode to the exit, her breathing ragged. “See you then.”

  *

  Even Tag was impressed at the questions she asked Tom after she’d left the cafe. She hadn’t planned them, had no idea what she’d ask him when she’d left Freddie, had only known she had to get away from the tension in the cafe. She’d managed to remember details from the files Blair had given her at Glenside earlier and now almost sounded as if she knew what she was talking about. Almost.

  Her head was in turmoil, her wanting almost blinding her. They’d nearly kissed. The ache inside Tag told her just how close they’d come to it.

  “I’ll get the figures to you by the morning.” Tom dusted floury hands down his overalls. “Distribution details, numbers, contacts. You name it.”

  “I appreciate it,” Tag said. She shot a look to the door leading out towards the cafe. Freddie was just a few footsteps away. So close. Tag turned away, giving her full attention to Tom.

  “Anything else you need, just shout.”

  “I will.” Tag looked around the mill. Still weird. Still way too weird.

  “Does it bring it back?” Tom noticed the look on her face. “I thought last week when you were in here you looked sad.”

  “Being in here?” Tag crossed her arms. “I’ll say.” She wandered away from Tom. “Amazing how nine years can feel so long, but so short at the same time.” Her eye settled on a machine. “This thing still work?” she asked. A hefty 1800s giant thresher sat idiosyncratically next to a bright twenty-first century wheat-sorting machine.

  “I reckon so.” Tom came to stand next to her. “She hasn’t been fired up in, oh, over twenty years.” He ran his hands over the metal. “Bit of oil, I think she’d run no problem at all, though.”