Once the Clouds Have Gone

by KE Payne

  “But you don’t use it any more?” Tag asked. The way Tom was looking at it with such affection strangely comforted her.

  “Have you forgotten everything your father told you?” Tom chuckled. “Threshers like this aren’t used any more. It’s all this high-tech machinery now.” He motioned with his head towards the corner of the mill. “Quicker. More efficient.”

  “So why keep it?” Tag asked. “Couldn’t the space be used for something else?”

  “No one wants stuff like this.” Tom wrinkled his nose. “Maybe a collector. But it’s the hassle of getting it to them.”

  “I guess.”

  “Besides, it’s nice,” he said. “Don’t you think?”

  “Having an old piece of machinery gathering dust?” Tag teased.

  “Having original machinery gathering dust,” Tom corrected. “There’s only a few of us left now that have original stuff still on-site.”

  “Are there?” Should she have known that? More specifically, was that the type of fact she ought to know now she was a mill owner?

  “Or that in 1900 there were ten thousand water and windmills in Britain?”

  “Nope.”

  “How many do you think now?” Tom’s eyes sparkled. At least he was having fun.

  “Hit me.”

  “Barely thirty.”

  “Seriously?”

  “I’d say that kind of makes us like a working museum, wouldn’t you?” Tom said. “All right, so we don’t use that thresher any more, but we still use the original runner and bedstones.”

  Tag looked down at them. They were stones. Okay, an impressive sight, but still stones nonetheless. “They’re both old, I take it?”

  “Victorian.” Tom nodded. “Like the waterwheel.”

  “And they still work okay?” Tag followed Tom.

  “Fine.” Tom looked down at them. “Canny bunch, the Victorians. Built stuff to last. Unlike today.”

  “Well, I guess we have the technology now—”

  “It’s all modern hydropower technology.” Tom dismissed her thought process with a wave of his hand. “It won’t last as long as this will.” He spun his arms out. “It’s a living, breathing piece of history, this place.” He eyes shone. “Want to try sometime? Fire the thresher up again one day?”

  “Sure. Some other time.” Tag gazed around her. Tom was right. It was like standing in a living museum. She blinked as she heard her mother’s laughter echo around her. She listened again. She was being silly, she knew, but nevertheless a coldness enveloped her. Tag trembled. Enough with the history lesson. She looked round one last time, half expecting to see her parents watching her. “So I’ll see those figures in the morning, yeah?” she asked, heading to the exit.

  “You most certainly will.”

  *

  “If you’re not down here in five I’m going without you.” Freddie stood at the bottom of the stairs, coat and bag in hand. “And four, and three, and—”

  The staccato clatter of footsteps on the landing alerted her to Skye’s arrival. At last.

  A muddle of blond curls bobbed over the bannister.

  “You can’t go to school without me.” A pair of blue eyes peeked out from under the curls. “They wouldn’t let you in, anyway.”

  “Just come down, Skye.” Freddie held up the coat and bag. “I don’t have time for this.”

  “Okay.” Skye drew the word out. She bunny-hopped down the stairs.

  “Coat.” Freddie handed it to her.

  “Not the blue one.” Skye handed it back. “The red one today.”

  Freddie sighed. “Skye, honey.” She placed a hand on Skye’s shoulder and swivelled her round. “You’re five years old. When you reach double figures you can dictate which coat to wear. Until then”—the coat was hustled onto Skye in one swift, expert movement—“you wear the blue one.”

  “Can I wear the red one tomorrow?” A firm hand propelled Skye to the front door.

  “If it’s that important to you.”

  “What’s for tea tonight?” Skye waited by the door while Freddie grabbed her coat.

  “I don’t know yet.”

  “Pasta?”

  “I don’t know.” Freddie reached past her and opened the door. “Shoes?” She motioned to Skye’s socked feet. “Where are your school shoes?”

  “Outside.”

  “You left them outside again?” Freddie wearily wiped her eyes. “Skye, how many more times do I have to tell you?”

  “So can we have pasta?”

  “What?”

  “Tonight. For tea. Can we have pasta?” Skye plonked herself down on the doorstep and lifted a leg. She leaned back and waggled a shoe on. “With cheese?” Skye fumbled with her laces, frowning.

  “I’ll get something in town later.” Freddie stepped over her. “Hurry up.”

  “Laces.” Skye lifted her leg again. A shoe hung perilously from her toes. “I can’t do them.”

  “Have you got in a jumble with them again?” Freddie crouched in front of her.

  “I’ve got in a jumble with them again,” Skye mimicked.

  “I’m going out this afternoon,” Freddie said, tying Skye’s laces, “but I’ll stop by the supermarket on my way home and get the little shell-shaped pasta that you like. Sound okay?”

  “Mm.” Skye clamped her lips shut and nodded, too busy watching Freddie to answer properly.

  “There.” Freddie stood. “All done.”

  Skye jumped up. She bent over and pulled at her laces.

  “Done to your satisfaction?” Freddie drew her into a hug.

  “Yep. Where are you going?”

  “This afternoon? Just having coffee with a friend.” Freddie closed the front door and hastened Skye down the path.

  “With Pete?” Skye waited by the car.

  “No, not with Pete.” Freddie opened the car. “Get in.”

  Skye scrambled into her car seat and waited as Freddie buckled her in. “With Tim?”

  “Not Tim either. And don’t be so nosy.” Freddie closed the car door. She opened her driver’s door and slotted herself into her seat.

  “With Hazel, then?” Skye wound down her window a little.

  “Who’s Hazel?”

  “Melissa Gordon’s mummy.”

  “Why would I be spending the afternoon with Melissa Gordon’s mummy?” Freddie looked at Skye in the rearview mirror. “I don’t even know Melissa Gordon’s mummy.”

  “Dunno.” Skye shrugged. She looked out of the window. “First name I thought of.”

  “I’m having coffee with Tag.” Freddie pulled out of her parking space. “Happy now?”

  “Tag?” A gasp.

  “Yes.”

  “Can I come?”

  “No.”

  The sound of Skye’s coat rustling as she folded her arms crossly drew Freddie’s eyes to the mirror again. She resisted the urge to laugh. Laughing at an indignant Skye, she knew, was an absolute no-no.

  “But I like her,” Skye said.

  “Good. But it’s still a no.” Freddie glanced at Skye’s reflection. Her arms were still crossed, her frown still patently evident. “We’re talking about work. You’d be terribly bored.”

  “Does she like pasta for tea?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “’K.” Skye sank lower into her car seat. “Freddie?”

  “Mm?”

  “Do you think she’s as nice as Charlotte was?”

  Freddie’s breath caught. Charlotte. She swallowed.

  “She’s not Charlotte, honey.” Finally the words came. “There won’t be another Charlotte.”

  “I liked Charlotte,” Skye said. “But I think Tag’s nicer than her.”

  “I liked Charlotte too.” Freddie fumbled for the radio. “A lot.” Her hands trembled.

  “Do you like Tag?” Persistence.

  “Yes.”

  “As much as Charlotte, or more?”

  Freddie jabbed at a button on the radio. “Shall we listen to your CD
for a bit?” Change the subject. “We can sing number five together.”

  “And seven?”

  “And seven.”

  “’K.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  “No school today?” Tag reached across the kitchen table and picked up the half-empty jar of jam next to Magnus. “You sure about that?” She looked out of the window. “Because I’m sure I heard on the radio everything was open as usual today.”

  “Had a text,” Magnus said between mouthfuls of toast. “Heating’s down or something. ’Cos of the snow.”

  The previous evening’s rain had turned to snow. Tag had watched, from the safety of Glenside, as the wind whipped drifts up the drive to stick against the cottage, making any chance of getting back into Balfour and to Four Winds that night impossible.

  Now, despite a break in the snow, Tag found she had no desire to head back to Connie Booth and her cooked breakfasts. Just as well too. Blair and Ellen had headed out early, leaving Magnus to make his own way to school, which he would have done if it had been open.

  Tag was dubious. Was it a coincidence that Magnus’s school’s heating chose to break down on the very day Tag was hanging out at Glenside? Or was it a ruse so he could hang out with her? Did he even want to still hang out with her now, like he used to when he was younger? Tag looked at him, remembering how they used to be together. She was always the cool auntie of the family—way cooler than any of Ellen’s sisters anyway. Young, funny, funky. Magnus would follow her everywhere. Her own little shadow. Did he even remember that now? Or did he just see her as some weird, old stranger who just parked up in Balfour out of the blue? Her heart grew heavy.

  “Right.” Tag studied him. “So school’s closed?”

  “It’s on my phone.” His voice rose slightly. “You wanna check it?”

  Tag held her hands up. “I don’t want to check it,” she said, seeing him visibly calm down again. “I just want to make sure you’re not pulling a fast one because your parents aren’t here.”

  Her phone vibrated from inside her jacket pocket hanging by the door.

  “Want me to get your phone for you?” Magnus signalled with his head to her coat. “It just buzzed. Might be Mum.”

  “Sure. Thanks.” Tag feigned indifference, but her eyes followed Magnus’s every move.

  Magnus crammed the rest of his toast into his mouth and got up from the table, wiping his hands down his trousers. Tag watched him saunter over to her coat. It would be Freddie. It had to be. All the while, she was running options through her head about what her message might say. Can’t wait to see you later? I just want to hang out with you all the time? But what if it was more like: Go away? Leave me alone? I’m in love with Sarah? Tag tapped her finger on the table, irritated with herself.

  “What are PPI claims?” Magnus handed Tag her phone and sat back down.

  “I’m sorry?”

  “Your text was from a PPI claims company.”

  “You shouldn’t read my texts.” Tag replied. Too matronly. Way too matronly.

  Magnus shrugged. “You want to do something today?” he asked, “Seeing as how school’s closed?”

  A prick of hope. So he did want to hang out?

  “Like what?” Tag deleted her PPI text. The nagging disappointment pulling in her stomach that it hadn’t been Freddie remained.

  “Dunno.” Magnus pushed back into his chair. He locked his arms above his head and yawned loudly.

  “Well, what do you normally do when you’re not at school?”

  “Not much,” he said. “Try and avoid having to help up at the mill, mostly.” He grinned, eliciting a bigger one back from Tag.

  “Do you snowboard?” she asked suddenly. “I figure the way the snow came down overnight, we could take a board up to the Ben. What do you think?”

  “Do you snowboard?” Magnus’s eyes widened. “I mean, can you?”

  “It’s been a while,” Tag admitted, “but I’m sure it’s like riding a bike, isn’t it?”

  “That’s awesome.” There were those cool points again. Yeah, she was still the young, funny, funky auntie. “I didn’t think anyone older than me ever did it.”

  “I used to freeride until fairly recently, thank you very much,” Tag said. “I used to hang out with a group a while back, and we’d go over to the Alps some weekends.”

  “But not now?”

  “Well, then I met someone and…”

  “They didn’t like it?”

  “Something like that.” Tag bit into her toast. “I thought I was in love with her at the time, and I wanted to please her,” she said, “so I quit.” Thanks to Anna and her illogical loathing of everything to do with her snowboarding. That, plus the incessant sulking every time Tag disappeared for the weekend without her.

  “No way?” Magnus stood up from the table, taking his plate with him.

  “Way.”

  “You kept your board, though?”

  “Nah.” Tag looked away. She remembered the arguments. So many damn arguments. “I sold it. It was a Salomon, so I got a good price for it.”

  “A Salomon? That’s sick.”

  “It was,” Tag agreed. She threw him a sideways look. He wasn’t shy or hesitant in her company. No weird, old strangers here, as far as Magnus was concerned. This had been the first proper conversation they’d had together since Tag had returned, and she couldn’t be happier. He wanted to talk to her, to be with her. He wanted to know stuff about her, and that could mean only one thing—he wanted to get to know her all over again. Happiness tinged with sadness—she had so many years to make up to Magnus. Tag drained her coffee. Enough talking about Anna and her past; now it was time to get up onto the mountain and really start to reconnect with Magnus.

  “Now you’ve made me want to start boarding all over again.” Tag joined him at the kitchen sink. She bumped his side. “You so better have two boards now.”

  *

  Freddie sat in the late morning gloom of her front room. Daytime TV was proving to be a poor distraction on her day off, and the methodical ticking of the clock didn’t help either. A shard of sunlight pooled across the mantelpiece, making fine dust particles dance in front of her eyes. She watched them, unblinking. She was alone in the house, the thoughts in her head her only companion. As she held her first cup of tea of the afternoon, fingers gripped tight around her mug, her mind roller-coasted.

  Freddie sipped at her tea and stole a glance at her phone on the table next to her. She had three hours before she was due to meet Tag. Where would she be now? She’d surprised Freddie with her arrival the previous day with Ellen, but not unpleasantly so. Freddie smiled into her mug. Her impromptu visit had certainly caught her off guard, setting off fireworks inside her when she’d seen her coming in through the door.

  Fireworks she hadn’t felt since Charlotte.

  And Tag had touched her hair. Had Tag noticed how much her face had coloured when she’d done it? Her proximity had made Freddie’s heart beat faster than it had in a long time; that certainly hadn’t happened since Charlotte either. Freddie hastily chugged back another mouthful of tea. Thinking about Charlotte again now so wasn’t a good idea. But was it any better to be replacing thoughts about Charlotte with those about Tag?

  “Watching daytime TV?” Pete’s frame filled the lounge doorway. “Slippery slope, kid.”

  “Jeez, Pete.” Freddie clasped her hand to her chest. “You scared the shit out of me.”

  “I called out.”

  “I didn’t hear.”

  “No kidding.” Pete threw himself down on the sofa next to Freddie. He unbuttoned his top shirt button and tugged at his tie, loosening it. “So why are you here?”

  “I live here, remember?”

  “I thought you were going out.”

  “That’s later. Anyway. Change of plan.” Freddie snatched up her phone. “Wait a sec.” She opened up her recent text messages and found Tag’s message to her from the previous night, then opened up a reply.

  H
ey Tag, she wrote. Can’t make it this afternoon after all. Really sorry. Will try and catch you up at the cafe tomorrow. F.

  Freddie watched her text disappear. Disappointment clung to her. She tucked her phone down the side of the sofa. Disappointment could go and cling. She’d done the right thing, she was sure of it. If she told herself that enough times, she figured, she might start believing herself. Besides, she needed to talk with Pete.

  “Skye mentioned Charlotte today,” Freddie told Pete without thinking.

  “After all this time?” Pete’s face fell. “What did she say?”

  “Not much.” Freddie studied her hands. “I told her I was going out this afternoon. With Tag.”

  “Blair’s sister? Again?”

  “Mm.”

  “Right.” Pete arm-bumped Freddie.

  “Don’t.” Freddie shrugged him off. “We’re just having a coffee.”

  “Okay.”

  “Don’t say it like that.”

  “Like what?” Pete raised his hands. “I’m saying nothing.”

  “Anyway, I’m not going now.”

  “Let me guess.” Pete twisted round so he was facing Freddie. “You mentioned Tag’s name to Skye and she asked if Tag was like Charlotte?”

  “Yes.”

  “And after Skye said that, you texted Tag and cancelled?”

  “Not immediately afterwards.” Freddie avoided eye contact with Pete. “In fact, even about ten minutes ago I was still going to go.”

  “And then sitting here in the dark, thinking about what Skye said made you reconsider?”

  “It shows she’s still thinking about Charlotte, doesn’t it?” Freddie frowned. “I thought she was okay about it all now.”

  “She loved Charlotte,” Pete reasoned. “She thought she was going to be her second mummy.”

  “I loved Charlotte.” Freddie bit at a finger. “We were both let down by her.”

  The bitterness still rose, even after all this time. Charlotte had known how vulnerable Skye was, but she never once stopped to think about how her actions would affect her. That’s how much of a selfish bitch she’d been, just looking after number one and to hell with her and Skye. Well, no more. Selfishness wasn’t just the privilege of others. It was time for Freddie to look after herself and her child.