Brain muddled from heavy sleep, her throat dry, she groped for the switch on the bedside lamp. The first thing her eyes focused on was a tall glass of water, and she smiled. Mia just couldn’t help herself when it came to looking after others. Propped on one elbow, she drank greedily, relishing the way the cold liquid cleared both her throat and her head. Her stomach rumbled, reminding her she’d slept right through dinner. With the mornings so dark at this time of year, it was impossible to tell what time it was.
Switching her glass for her phone, she frowned at the blank screen and tried to restart it – nothing. The temperature of the air around her told her it was too early for the heating to have kicked in, and she wrestled with the idea of getting out of her cosy bed to hunt for her charger or just turning over and going back to sleep. Curiosity beat comfort and she dived from beneath the covers to rummage in the miniature rucksack she used as a day-to-day handbag. Lucky for her, the plug and cable were curled up in the front pocket where she’d tucked them away, and there was a spare socket behind the bedside cabinet, so she was soon huddled back under the duvet.
It would take a minute or two for the phone to recharge enough to turn on, so she lay back and mulled over everything that had happened in the past week. Trusting Daniel with her paintings and drawings still felt like the right thing, thank goodness. With the worst of the poisonous anger drawn, and her mind rested, she had no regrets at asking him to destroy them. She glanced across at the closed sitting-room door. Knowing she wouldn’t have to face them again would make it easier to finish the last piece she’d started once the first frenzy of emotion had wound down.
Venting the worst of her pain wouldn’t take away the scars of the experiences, but time would lessen them and she had no desire to keep going over the same ground. For a year, she’d fooled herself into believing she could get over what had happened by simply ignoring it, but it had been with her all the time – like tinnitus, always keeping her slightly off balance and unable to relax.
Embarrassment, shame and hopelessness had kept her silent, a fact she was sure Devin had relied upon, for who would believe her word over his? The answer came instantly in an echo of Luke’s words from the beach. You’ll know, and I’ll know. And everyone else in your life who’s worth anything will know.
Yes.
Even if nothing came of it, she would send a message to the administrator at the Institute outlining what she remembered of that horrible night. And then she would let it go, because she’d wasted more of her life than a bastard like Devin Rees deserved. What was it Kiki had said after Mum’s funeral? It’s not my shame to bear. Sure, some people would say they’d brought their own miseries upon themselves—Kiki by staying in an abusive relationship, and Nee for not taking more care with her personal safety—but it was always easy to sit in judgment when you’d never experienced a crushing betrayal from someone you should’ve been able to trust. Screw them.
As for the painting in Devin’s forthcoming exhibition? She sighed. That would be harder to let go, and she wasn’t sure if she could stand it. It was her work, her work, and he would be the one to get the credit for it. Having something she’d created displayed in the national press, lauded by critics and admired by fans, had always been her ultimate goal.
As she’d mentioned to Daniel the previous day, she’d always wanted to be first in the class, top of the pile, acknowledged and applauded. To stand on the mountain and shout at the world Here I am. See me! That need for recognition had burned in her for as long as she could remember. As if her parents would take notice of her if she could just achieve enough plaudits; would love her and praise her, instead of neglecting her and ignoring her.
But Vivian was gone now – and her spirit had left long before her body finally gave out. All those arguments of Nee’s youth had been an exercise in futility, for her mother had ceased to be interested in any of her daughters long before her youngest had brought home her first school report full of As. And as for her father… he might have spent her formative years obsessed with all things academic, but no one who met him would know it now.
He’d walked away from his career for love of his middle daughter, striking a devil’s bargain with her ex-husband so Neil could replace him at the university in return for a quick, quiet divorce. He’d also taken Nee back under his wing and made sure she was okay even whilst facing the painful loss of the woman he’d once loved beyond reason. The man she’d thought she had everything to prove to needed nothing from her but the chance to make up for the mistakes of his past. She could be the artist of her generation, or a woman who lived the rest of her days in quiet obscurity, and George would love her just the same.
Like a weight lifting from her chest, the truth crystallised in her mind and she took what felt like the first full breath in for ever. She had everything she needed to consider herself a success. Art would always be a key part of her life, but she didn’t need the world to acknowledge her. The respect and recognition of her family and friends was worth a thousand flash-bulb moments; a million empty plaudits.
When she contacted the administrator, she would lay out the facts of what she remembered of that horrible night and request the return of her portfolio; nothing more. Let Devin Rees keep what he’d stolen, and live with the truth of what he was every day for the rest of his pathetic life. And live with the fact that she knew the truth of him and would no longer keep secret his abusive behaviour. No other woman should have to suffer the way she had.
The display light on her phone flashed, indicating the first signs of life. Banishing Devin to the very back of her thoughts, she thumbed the on switch. Daniel had added a booster during the refurbishment of the barns so the internet signal was better than she might have expected given the remoteness of the location. The digital clock on the front screen read 06:20, proving she’d slept even longer than she’d suspected. Pressing the message icon, she couldn’t help the twinge of guilt as Luke’s name popped up once, twice… by the time she counted eight messages from him, the guilt had been replaced by just a hint of smugness. They obviously had different interpretations of the word patience.
Not sure what to expect, she read them in chronological order and her heart began to flutter at the utter sweetness of his words. Not one complaint at her silence, not one request for a response, just little flashes of kindness, and humour, and love. The time-stamp of the most recent message was from the previous evening, an observation that it was likely to be the last time she heard from him as he was surely dying of man flu. Clicking on reply, she searched the internet and attached a clip of Olaf, the cute snowman sidekick from Frozen sneezing his carroty nose off and added a message: Such a shame. I’ll have to find myself another date for NYE then.
Teasing him felt like the right way to go; he knew her well enough to read the true meaning behind the message. The cartoon would serve to remind him of that happy afternoon snuggling on the floor with the family around them. The words would tell him she wanted to see him again, and when. Pushing back the covers, she ignored the chilled air and crossed to stand in front of the sitting-room door. Two days would give her enough time to finish the painting. Her stomach rumbled again so she dressed quickly in a thick pair of fleecy leggings, a long-sleeve top and warm cardigan and crept from her room to hunt down some breakfast. Food first; then she’d get back to work.
A thin sliver of light shone under the closed kitchen door, and she could hear the soft murmur of voices through the wood. Apparently, she wasn’t the only early riser this morning. She still felt a bit awkward about facing people after shutting herself away, then reminded herself they’d been nothing but welcoming for the few minutes she’d shown her face the previous day. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door and stopped dead at the sight of Luke’s parents, still in their dressing gowns, sharing a plate of toast.
‘Oh, there you are! Madeline told me you’d been up and about yesterday and we were so sorry to miss you. Come in and shut the door. Can I get you a drink?’ What
ever she’d been expecting from Cathy, this effusive greeting wasn’t it at all.
A little shell-shocked, Nee did as bidden and slipped into an empty chair at the table. ‘Tea, please, if there’s some still in the pot.’
Cathy tugged off the knitted cosy and tested the weight of the pot. ‘I think there might be a drop left.’ She managed to wring about half a cup out, which she pushed across towards Nee before rising to refill the kettle. ‘You must be starving. Do you want some toast?’ She poked around in the breadbin. ‘Or how about some croissants?’
‘Anything will be fine, really. I can do it myself, if you like.’ Nee half-rose, but Brian urged her back down with a smile.
‘Let her fuss, sweetheart. Your mother-in-law is feeling a bit guilty about everything that’s happened. I’ve told her you and Luke are old enough to make a hash of things without any assistance from her.’
His use of the title warmed Nee to the tips of her toes, for surely it meant they still wanted her as part of their family. There was nothing for Cathy to feel guilty about, though. She might have been a touch frosty when they’d first met, but had shown nothing but kindness since then. Confused, she waited until the older woman placed a fresh pot of tea on the table then reached out to touch the back of her wrist. ‘What’s happened between Luke and me is no one’s fault but our own. We’ve both made mistakes, me far worse than him. Time will tell if we can put them right or not, but I hope we can.’
Cathy’s arm flexed beneath her grip. ‘I should have minded my own business, though. If I hadn’t said anything he wouldn’t have gone off and left you.’ Worry etched thick lines across her brow and bracketed her mouth.
Nee squeezed her arm, trying to reassure the woman. ‘He hasn’t left me. He’s giving me some space, that’s all.’
Not looking entirely convinced, Cathy closed her free hand over Nee’s. ‘But isn’t that what people say when they’re breaking up and trying to be friends about it? You’re both being so bloody reasonable, it sets my nerves itching.’
Nee laughed. She wasn’t sure Luke moving out to Honeysuckle Cottage followed by Nee locking herself away for two days would be anyone’s idea of reasonable behaviour, but they were both prone to grand gestures it seemed. ‘Perhaps we’re finally growing up a bit.’
The idea that had been playing through her mind since Daniel had reminded her about the forthcoming party resurfaced. Or, perhaps not. If she could get the others onboard then there was still time for one last grand gesture. The phone in her pocket beeped, and Cathy let her hand go. ‘Answer that, dear, and I’ll get these croissants warming in the oven.’
Nee read the message from Luke: I predict a miraculous recovery. Save me a dance on Saturday night x. If things went as she planned, she’d be saving a dance for him all right. Grinning to herself, she texted her reply: The first dance x.
She ran through a mental list of things that would need to be done in the next couple of days whilst waiting for Cathy to resume her seat. The need to finish the painting she’d started pressed down upon her. For everything to be perfect, it would need to be completed. But how could she fit everything in?
If she was going to pull it off, she’d need everyone onboard. Starting with the couple sitting in front of her. Taking a deep breath, she extended a hand towards each of them. ‘I want to marry Luke.’
It might have been wiser to wait until Brian had finished his tea, as he almost choked on a mouthful. She jumped up to pat his back. ‘I thought…’ He coughed, cleared his throat and tried again. ‘I thought you were already married.’
‘Well, yes, we are. But to borrow a phrase from you, we made a hash of things. I want to start again. Prove to Luke I’m in this for the long haul and not just going along with what he wants me to do. And this time, it wouldn’t be in secret – we’d have all of you with us.’
Cathy beamed. ‘Well, I think it’s a lovely idea, darling. When were you thinking of doing it? A spring ceremony might be nice, with all the trees in blossom.’
Nee chewed her lip, wondering if she was mad to even give voice to her plan. What the hell. She was Nee Thorpe-Spenser and she could do what she wanted, when she wanted. ‘Ah, about that. I was hoping we could do at the New Year’s Eve party.’
It was her mother-in-law’s turn to choke on her tea. ‘This year’s party?’ She swallowed hard. ‘As in the one we’re having on Saturday?’
With impeccable timing, her sister wandered into the kitchen, stifling a huge yawn with the back of her hand. ‘Excuse me, apparently nine hours sleep isn’t enough for me these days.’ She pulled out a chair and helped herself to a cup of tea, half of which she drained before sitting down. ‘That’s better. Now then, what were you saying about Saturday?’
‘Don’t do that, you’ll want them nice for Saturday.’ Madeline tugged the finger Nee had been chewing out of her mouth.
‘Shh, you two.’ Cathy waved at them to be quiet as she strained to hear what Mia was saying as she paced up and down the kitchen with the phone clamped under one ear. She walked in front of the pantry doorway and Nee noticed for the first time someone had stuck a large sprig of mistletoe above the entrance. Maybe Daniel had pinned it there after catching her and Luke smooching the other day.
She shook her head as she recalled the incident. It was like looking back at a distant memory, or one of those déjà vu moments that sometimes came when watching a film. The woman who’d welcomed those stolen kisses had been so scared of everything, even the hope she’d been feeling, it was like observing a stranger. That Nee had been happy to cling to Luke, to rely on him to lead her along the correct path back to her old life.
Shame burned hot on her cheeks and she raised her hands to cover the heated flush. He deserved so much better than she’d been willing to offer him then – a full partner, someone ready to walk at his side instead of being towed along in his wake. She deserved better. Ironic, really, that Devin’s ugly betrayal of her trust should be the catalyst which reignited the fire inside her.
The hopes she’d harboured those few short days ago were gossamer-thin, a child’s dream. She had no more need of hope, not with certainty burning bright in her heart. Her future with Luke would be a bright, vibrant celebration – because she would make it so. Starting from Saturday.
‘Uh huh… Okay… That’s brilliant.’ Nee turned her attention back to Mia as she wound up her conversation. It sounded hopeful and she crossed her fingers like a little girl praying for a wish to come true. ‘Lovely, I can’t thank you enough, Alison. Give my love to Sue, and we’ll see you both on Saturday.’ Mia ended the call and returned the phone to its cradle on the wall.
‘Well?’ Madeline burst out, and Nee couldn’t help but laugh. She wasn’t the only one desperate for news.
Beaming, Mia turned towards them. ‘She said yes!’ Her next words were drowned out as they jumped up and shared a group hug.
‘Oh, God, Mimi, that’s amazing! But, oh, God, there’s so much to do! Where do we start?’ As determined as she was, the sheer scale of what needed to happen sent nerves fizzing through her belly.
Her sister hugged her tight, then drew back to cup her face. ‘We start where we always start – with a pot of tea. We’re going to sit down and you tell us exactly what you want, and we’ll make it happen. Alison has a few suggestions for the ceremony; she emailed them over whilst we were talking. I’ll grab the laptop and my notebook and we’ll make a start.’
Nee raised her hands to cover Mia’s, drawing strength from the utter belief in her sister’s dark gaze. If Mia put her mind to something, then it damn well happened. ‘I’ll put the kettle on.’
‘Already done.’ They both turned to see Madeline, Maggie and Cathy bustling around: making the tea, setting out mugs and plates, slicing cake.
Mia slung an arm around her shoulders and drew Nee in for a kiss on the cheek. ‘See,’ she whispered against her ear, ‘with three meddling old bags on our side it’ll be a doddle.’
Brandishing the knife sh
e was using to cut a Victoria sponge into enormous wedges, Madeline mock-frowned at them. ‘As I’ve told you insolent children before, we prefer the term fairy godmothers.’ She put down the knife and clasped her hands together as though praying. ‘Although, given the time of year, perhaps Christmas angels would be more appropriate.’
Nee laughed. ‘Angels is right, because I’m going to need you all to pull off some miracles between now and Saturday.’
Cathy placed the teapot in the middle of the table. ‘I wonder if it’s too late to change my costume. I’ve always fancied being an angel.’
‘I’m afraid my halo is more than a little tarnished these days,’ Maggie observed, drawing a look from Madeline which said further enquiries would be made about that little aside.
‘Oh, not that sort of angel,’ Cathy said as she smoothed a hand over her sleek hair. ‘I used to have a fabulous Farrah Fawcett flick back in the day.’ She positioned her hands into a gun shape and struck a pose straight out of the original 1970s Charlie’s Angels. By the time Madeline and Maggie had joined in taking up places on either side of her, Nee’s sides ached from laughing and it felt so good.
She already had her first miracle right here in front of her.
Chapter Twenty
With the message from Nee buoying his spirits, Luke did what he always did when falling ill and put himself to bed with a Lemsip and a box of tissues. Charlie had decreed Mr Bunny should stay with him, and he had a few blurry memories of Kiki coming in to check on him, but for the most part of the next two days he slept. By the time he surfaced on Saturday morning, he had started to feel vaguely human again. Desperate for a shower, he was halfway to the door before he noticed the dark outline of his suit hanging on the outside of the wardrobe door. In his haste to pack his things, he’d left it hanging in the bedroom back at Butterfly Cove. A large box sat beneath it. Lifting the lid, he grinned to see a fedora, a set of wide dark braces and an inflatable Tommy gun. If he was to be a gangster, maybe he’d get lucky and Nee would be going as his moll and wearing some slinky little dress. The thought sent him towards the shower with a happy whistle on his lips.
Christmas at Butterfly Cove Page 20
