A Winter's Dream

by Sophie Claire

  Red spots darkened Evie’s cheeks.

  ‘What could have happened?’ Liberty asked, puzzled.

  ‘Nothing—’

  ‘He meant—’

  They had spoken in unison. They stopped and Evie blushed even harder.

  Liberty glanced from one to the other before understanding dawned. ‘Are you – pregnant?’

  Evie nodded slowly.

  Liberty gasped. ‘Oh, Evie, that’s wonderful!’

  ‘It’s early days,’ said Evie. ‘That’s why I didn’t want to say anything yet. The baby’s due in the summer.’

  Jake kissed the top of Evie’s head. ‘Now I’ve so successfully put my foot in it,’ he said drily, ‘I’ll leave you two to it.’

  Liberty hugged her friend. ‘I won’t breathe a word, I promise, and I’m so happy for you. You and Jake will make wonderful parents. Is that why you’re getting married?’

  Evie smiled. ‘Actually, no. We’d already talked about it before I realised I was pregnant. But it does mean I’d like to get married soon.’

  Liberty was thrilled for her friends. Yet the news derailed her, too. Natasha, and now Evie: she felt a piercing shot of envy. She tried to force that aside as another thought occurred. ‘Did they check the baby was all right?’

  ‘Yes. That’s why I was in hospital so long. I had a scan and it’s looking fine, thank goodness.’

  ‘What a relief.’

  ‘Do you know what happened to the quilts?’ Evie asked hopefully.

  Liberty hated to break the bad news. ‘I’m afraid the post office was closed by the time I heard what had happened. George brought them to the shop.’

  ‘Oh, no. That means we’ve missed the entry date.’ Evie looked disappointed, but she quickly shrugged it off with her usual positivity. ‘Oh, well. There’ll be other quilt shows.’

  ‘Not as big as this one, and not for a while.’ Liberty thought of Brenda and how hard she’d worked to get hers finished in time. In fact, she’d been thinking about this all night.

  ‘I’m sorry, Lib. Are you very disappointed?’

  ‘Not for me. But for Brenda this show means a lot. I don’t want to let her down.’

  Evie’s eyes were warm with sympathy. ‘It’s a shame, but there’s nothing we can do now.’

  ‘Actually, there is.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I’ve had an idea,’ Liberty went on. ‘There’s still time to deliver the quilts personally.’

  ‘To the South of France?’

  She nodded. ‘I had a look online and I could fly there tomorrow, then back in time for Christmas.’

  ‘That’s a fab idea! Much safer than posting them.’ Evie pulled a long strand of hair forward and absently wound the end around her fingers. ‘But I thought you didn’t fly.’

  ‘I don’t. Normally.’ Liberty swallowed. ‘But there were only a few seats left on the plane so I had to make a snap decision. I was feeling brave,’ she added, with a not-so-brave smile. Her pulse quickened with fear.

  Evie’s eyes widened. ‘You booked already?’

  ‘I had to. Couldn’t risk losing the last opportunity to get there in time.’ She thought of Brenda and the hope in her eyes as she’d entrusted her quilt to her.

  ‘Oh, Lib, are you sure you want to do this? I’m sure Brenda will understand if you explain what happened …’

  ‘This is my month of being brave, remember?’

  Liberty wanted to overcome this fear. Not being able to fly was preventing her from doing so many things she dreamed of. If Carys woke up she’d be so proud to learn she’d surmounted this huge obstacle. Perhaps they’d go to New York or Hollywood and visit all the places they’d seen in their favourite movies. ‘I’ve booked to see someone today – a counsellor. He helped Brenda and he’s going to do what he can to help me before I leave tomorrow.’ As she spoke she checked her watch. She needed to get going.

  ‘Wow, Lib. I’m in awe. This is huge. Let me pay for your flight, then. The postage costs would have been huge anyway. Are you sure you don’t mind making the trip so close to Christmas?’

  She thought of Alex. His flight home was booked for Tuesday, the day she returned. By the time she got home, he’d have left. This was just what she needed: a clean break would rupture the ties and help her move on to make a fresh start.

  ‘I don’t mind at all. But it will mean I can’t work next week.’ They’d planned to close the Button Hole on 23 December, so she’d miss the last two days.

  ‘Don’t worry about that.’ Evie looked at her sling. ‘Actually, I was thinking I might close a couple of days early because I can’t do much one-handed. You’ve just helped me make that decision.’

  Liberty smiled. ‘There can’t be many customers left who haven’t already been in. We’ve been so busy the last few weeks.’

  ‘I know.’ Evie giggled. ‘It’s been a really good month. Here, this is for you.’ She handed her a cream envelope decorated with miniature gold acorns and oak leaves.

  Inside was a Christmas card, which read:

  To the best and bravest seamstress I know.

  Thank you for all your hard work throughout the year.

  Love, Evie xxx

  ‘You shouldn’t have,’ Liberty said, holding the generous cash bonus Evie had also included. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘It’s all true. You are the best, and you’ve been so brave with your challenge. I’m really proud of you – and Carys would be too.’

  ‘I’m going to France to deliver the quilts, and I’m leaving tomorrow.’

  Alex paused from wiping Charlie’s paws and stared at Liberty. She was going away?

  He’d just got back from Luc’s, where he and Charlie had spent the afternoon being decorated in glittery pink capes and tiaras by Lottie. When he’d left, he’d said goodbye to Luc and Natasha because he was leaving soon. He’d believed he had a few days left before he said goodbye to Liberty. He’d never expected that she’d be the one to leave.

  He put the towel down. ‘Where will you stay?’

  ‘I’ve booked a place in the village where the show is held.’

  ‘Which village?’

  ‘Tourmarin. I’m staying in a flat above a bookshop. It has views of the castle where the quilts will be displayed. And the drive from the airport shouldn’t take too long.’

  He felt his eyes widen. ‘You’re flying?’

  ‘Yes.’ He saw the effort it cost her to put on a brave face, and the fear she couldn’t quite conceal. ‘I’m not looking forward to the flight but I’m going to get through it. It’s only short.’

  Why was she doing this? He didn’t need to ask. To help a friend. His chest tightened. How would she manage alone? What if she had a panic attack?

  ‘Here, this is for you.’ She handed him a large gift, wrapped in tissue paper and ribbon. ‘Happy Christmas.’

  He frowned. He hadn’t bought her anything. He’d wanted to, had seen the perfect gift for her, but had resisted, telling himself she might get the wrong idea.

  The parcel was soft and he had to unfold it before he recognised the orange and black quilt.

  ‘You said they were your racing colours,’ she explained, ‘so I thought you might like to have it – to remind you.’

  ‘Of my racing days?’

  She nodded.

  The only thing this would remind him of was her. The hours she’d spent hand-quilting it so the chevrons were softened by a pattern of waves and swirls.

  ‘Thanks.’ His voice sounded a little hoarse. He must be coming down with a sore throat, he told himself. Couldn’t be anything else.

  ‘Charlie’s going to stay with Evie, Jake and Smoke. Will you lock up the cottage before you leave?’

  ‘No, I’ll leave the door wide open and the three bears will be waiting for you when you return.’

  She punched him playfully on the arm. ‘It was nice meeting you, Alex. I’m sorry you didn’t find your half-sister.’

  He didn’t reply. There was a look in her ey
es he couldn’t quite decipher. Guarded. Haunted. Was it fear, or something else?

  She went upstairs to finish packing and he found himself alone in the kitchen. He stared unseeingly at Charlie, who was gobbling down his dinner. Why was he so shocked at her news? Because the home bird he’d met a month ago would never have had the courage to make this trip alone?

  Yet he’d watched Liberty grow and change over the last few weeks. He knew she was a different person now. And he knew what lengths she’d go to for her friends. This was typical of her: always looking after everyone else. Anyway, what did it matter to him? He’d be leaving soon, too, going to France to spend Christmas with his family.

  He heard her moving about upstairs. Who would know if she got there safely? And if she got home? Who would be looking out for her? He went up and knocked on her bedroom door.

  ‘Yeah?’

  He went in. A battered brown suitcase that looked a hundred years old was open on the bed. In it was a quilt, some clothes, and she was squeezing in her sewing bag. Another case filled with quilts lay open on the floor. ‘Lib, are you sure this is a good idea?’ he asked.

  She stopped what she was doing. ‘You don’t have faith in me to do it?’

  ‘I do have faith. I just …’

  How did he explain this feeling? It wasn’t rational, this knot in his chest, this worry because she was alone and he … cared.

  ‘I know it’s a big thing for you. It’ll be your biggest challenge yet, won’t it?’

  She nodded.

  ‘And this woman—’

  ‘Brenda.’

  ‘She’s not exactly a lifelong friend, is she? How long have you known her – two weeks?’

  Her eyes narrowed. ‘It doesn’t matter how long I’ve known her. This is really important to her,’ she said defensively. Then she sighed. ‘Anyway, that’s not the only reason I’m doing this. Fear of flying is something I’ve wanted to conquer for a long time. It’s held me back from seeing so many places and doing so many things. I don’t want to be restricted any more.’

  ‘But you don’t have to do it. I mean, I admire all you’ve achieved this month, you know I do, but you don’t have to say yes to everything. Sometimes it’s okay to walk away.’

  She picked up a pair of pyjamas and folded them carefully, before putting them into the case and smoothing them flat. ‘I know.’

  The only sound was the quiet creaking and gurgling of the radiator.

  ‘Will you text me when you arrive?’ he asked. ‘Let me know you got there safely.’

  There was that look in her eyes again. What was it?

  The corner of her lip curved. ‘Why?’

  ‘I’d just like to know you’re okay, that’s all,’ he said. He went to leave.

  His hand was on the door when she said his name and he stopped. He turned back and her gaze connected with his. ‘I want to do this,’ she said. ‘It’s important to me. And not just for the challenge. It’s a demon I have to face.’

  Admiration filled him. She didn’t need him. She was courageous and determined, and he knew how proud she’d feel if she managed to do this by herself.

  And he understood now what he’d seen in her eyes. She was telling him goodbye.

  Sunday, 21 December

  ‘You won’t believe where I’m going today, Car.’

  Liberty squeezed her friend’s hand. She was excited about the trip. Nervous, but excited too, and she clung to that excitement, embracing it, welcoming it. She wondered if she would have felt the same a month ago, or if her fear of the unknown would have overshadowed everything else.

  ‘I’m going to Provence. To a beautiful hilltop village in the Lubéron. I’ve seen pictures on the internet and it’s gorgeous.’

  She paused, studying Carys’s still features, trying to imagine what her friend would want to know. What she was going to wear would be top of the list. ‘I’ve checked the weather over there and it’s cold but sunny so I’m wearing a jumper, jeans and knee-high boots to travel in, and I’ve packed a long dress – the green one with roses – in case I need to look smart. French women are always smart and chic, aren’t they? Plus I have to deliver the quilts to a château and no one should turn up at a French château looking scruffy, eh, Car?’

  One of the machines Carys was hooked up to blinked steadily. She wished her friend would wake up. She’d wished it so many times over the last six months but she’d never wished as hard as she did now.

  Taking a deep breath, she forged on with her cheery chatter: ‘I’m hiring a car at the airport and it’s about an hour’s drive from there. Can you imagine that? I’ve never driven abroad before.’ She bit her lip, then admitted quietly, ‘I’m really scared, Car.’

  How would she find the place? She didn’t even speak French. How would she buy food or navigate French road signs?

  Deep breath, Liberty, she told herself, and remembered her phone call to Brenda, when she’d updated her on what had happened. This show meant everything to Brenda.

  ‘But the hardest thing,’ she confessed quietly, ‘is knowing I’ll never see Alex again.’

  Her heart was begging her not to go, but her head knew this was the sensible thing to do. When she got back he’d have left.

  ‘It’s for the best,’ she said, for her own benefit more than anything, and blew out a slow breath, trying to dispel the nerves, and reminding herself of all she’d achieved this month. ‘And it’s the perfect way to finish the challenge. A trip abroad to a beautiful place. With any luck it will be sunny, and I might even get a sneak peek at the other quilts as they’re arriving for the show.’ She rubbed her friend’s hand. ‘And don’t worry, Car, I’ll be back in a couple of days to tell you all about it.’

  Liberty gripped the armrests as the plane began to trundle away from the airport and towards the runway. Her palms were sticky, her chest felt tight. She tried to do the breathing exercises she’d learned, but it was difficult when her eyes were fixed on the door, which was locked. This was what she’d dreaded: the walls closing in on her, making escape impossible, the air thinning so it was difficult to breathe. She didn’t want to make a scene. She didn’t want a repeat of what had happened last time. But last time the blinding fear had swamped her, the certainty that something terrible was going to happen—

  Breathe, she told herself. You’ve got this far. You can do this.

  The plane turned sharply, lined itself up on the runway, and stopped. Around her the other passengers seemed relaxed as they flicked through magazines and munched sweets. No one else appeared to share her fear. Boarding the plane, her legs had been so shaky she wasn’t sure how she’d managed to climb the steps – but she had. And as she’d reached the door, she’d glanced over her shoulder, giving herself a silent pat on the back for getting that far.

  It was all going to plan, even if it felt as if disaster was only a moment away. That’s just the anxiety speaking, she reminded herself. You will arrive safely, the doors will open and you will get off. She closed her eyes and visualised this happening, then imagined the glowing sense of achievement she’d feel.

  The plane began to move. In no time at all it gathered speed, the acceleration pushed her back in her seat, and she knew there were only seconds left until it left the ground. Her pulse raced. Her clothes were sticking to her. Then it lifted into the air.

  Her heart was in her mouth as she watched the grass and the buildings fall away. Seconds passed – or minutes, who knew? – and she had to force herself to breathe, her fingers were still curled tight around the armrest. But the feeling of impending doom gradually weakened, and when the flight attendant’s sing-song voice came over the loudspeaker she relaxed.

  We’re in the air and nothing bad has happened, she told herself, astounded. Amazed. She wanted to clap her hands because she’d got over the biggest hurdle.

  ‘Everything okay?’ asked a flight attendant. She’d explained to the crew about her fear of flying and they’d been checking on her at regular intervals.


  ‘Yes,’ she said, hearing the surprise in her own voice.

  He winked and moved on. Liberty plugged in her earphones and listened to the audiobook she’d brought to distract herself. It wouldn’t be long before she was landing in France and punching the air in celebration. It had been really important that she made this trip alone, and she had no regrets about that. She was proud she’d done it.

  Still, there was one person she secretly wished was there to witness her achievement. Alex would be so proud.

  Chapter Nineteen

  A few hours later, Liberty picked up the key to the rental flat from the bookshop owner, then went upstairs. She unlocked the door and took it all in. It was gorgeous. The big windows looked on to the village square on one side, and she could see people sitting outside the café in the sunshine, wearing warm coats, scarves and sunglasses. She’d go for a drink there later, she promised herself. And from the bedroom window at the back of the flat she would see Tourmarin Château where, tomorrow, she’d deliver the quilts. Perched on a mound, the castle was simple yet majestic. Only a couple of fields away, it looked close, but she’d have to drive because the quilts were too heavy to carry that far.

  Liberty quickly unpacked, changed into her dress, and texted Alex: Arrived safely. Only made one mistake and went the wrong way round a roundabout. (Don’t worry, nobody saw.) Going to café now.

  Her flight had arrived on time and, thankfully, all her luggage too, including the quilts. Propping her leather case on top of the shiny red one she’d borrowed from Evie, she’d wheeled them both across to the car-hire desk and joined a long queue snaking out of the door.

  She shuffled forward, but the queue was getting longer, stretching out behind her, and people were becoming agitated.

  ‘It’s very busy,’ she’d said to the lady next in line.

  The woman replied in a language Liberty didn’t understand – Russian perhaps? The woman tried again in broken English this time. ‘Car’ and ‘strike’, Liberty thought she’d said, but her accent was so strong the rest was incomprehensible.