She wrapped up in her North Face bomber jacket, scarf, hat and boots then pulled on her gloves and opened the door. The December morning was crisp and fresh and she savoured the air as she stepped into it. She never usually left the house before nine in the morning – as she tended to meet her clients late morning or for lunch – so going out at eight seemed quite adventurous, especially seeing as how it wasn’t yet fully light.
However, a brisk walk around the pretty village would be good for her. Just the thing to clear her head and help her to prepare her for speaking to her father later on. If he was even still in the village, that was.
She set off along her road, passing the pretty cottages with their smoking chimneys and frosty window panes, then took a right and headed past the village green and the small medieval church with its mossy dry stone wall. Light was creeping into the sky now and everything seemed grey in the silvery-amethyst light, reminding her of an old photo of the village that hung on the wall of The Red Fox. She walked briskly, her breath emerging like puffs of smoke and as she inhaled, her throat and lungs felt as if they were being cleansed.
She passed the village shop and post office then froze. There was someone heading towards her with what appeared to be a short lion on a lead.
A lion?
A bulldog more like.
She turned quickly, keen to get out of sight, but there was nowhere to hide, so she scanned the road in both directions. The only thing she could see was the small graveyard in front of the church, so she hopped over the wall and landed on the grass on the other side. She lay there for a minute, holding her breath, then realised that her bottom and thighs were cold and wet where the frost was melting underneath her. So she slowly raised herself onto her haunches then peered over the wall to check if the coast was clear. And let out a screech.
“Hello… Camilla? Are you all right?”
It was Tom Stone and he was standing on the other side of the wall frowning at her.
“Oh… yes… I’m… absolutely fine, thank you.” She stood up slowly then dusted her behind off.
“What were you doing? One minute you were walking towards us then suddenly, you turned and ran in the opposite direction and leapt over the wall into the graveyard. I didn’t know it was you, to be honest, what with the hat, scarf and padded jacket and wondered if it might be a criminal fleeing after committing a crime.”
“I was uh…” She lowered her eyes to find the bulldog, Hairy Pawter, gazing up at her, his big tongue lolling out of his mouth, casting steam out around his squishy face. “I was doing my new exercise routine. It’s a bit like circuits… you know, where you have to run backwards and forwards then jump over things.”
“I see.” His dark eyebrows disappeared beneath the rim of his grey wool hat and she noticed for the first time that he had a faint dimple in his chin. She had an urge to reach out and touch it. “Well just be careful because the ground can be quite slippery and you could hurt yourself jumping over walls like that. Even low ones.”
“Of course.” She pulled her scarf higher to cover her cheeks as heat rushed into them. What an idiot she was. Tom didn’t believe her and she knew he didn’t. He probably knew that she knew and…
“I’ve been hoping we’d bump into you anyway. Not like this, first thing in the morning when I haven’t even shaved or brushed my teeth.” He offered a small smile. “I always get HP out for a walk before breakfast, you see. He’s a bit of a lazy boy, so I promise him food if he walks first.”
Camilla nodded, finding herself unable to tear her eyes away from his. This morning, in the grey light, their brown seemed darker than it had when she’d last seen him and the shadow of stubble over his jaw was quite sexy. An image of it rasping against her cheek as he nibbled her earlobe sprang into her mind and she had to swallow a gasp.
“Anyway… as I said, I was hoping to bump into you but I’ve been so busy since I arrived in Heatherlea, that I haven’t really been out much. And you’re probably really busy with work too, aren’t you? What is it you do again?”
“I’m an accountant. I have my own business.”
“That’s right. Someone in the village told me something along those lines.”
Someone in the village had been talking about her with Tom?
“Look, uh… I wasn’t snooping. I remember now… I went into the café last week and the man who works there… Jordan, is it?” Camilla nodded. “He said something about you doing his mother’s books so I put two and two together.”
“Right.”
“But I haven’t seen you around at all. I suppose I could have come and knocked on your door but to be honest, I was embarrassed.”
“You were embarrassed?”
“After the Halloween Party. I am so sorry for HP’s behaviour.”
“Oh. Uh—”
“It was out of order but he was overexcited anyway, what with the move then all the guests and you just took the brunt of it.”
“You can say that again.”
“I really am so sorry. I’d like to make it up to you, if I could.”
“Make it up to me?”
“Yes. Would you let me?”
Camilla could hardly believe her ears. She’d been mortified after the dog had assaulted her and never thought for a moment that Tom would have been embarrassed by what had happened. In fact, she’d rather suspected that it would be one of those tales to regale his colleagues with at those fancy veterinary dinners that he probably attended. This one time I had a party and a guest dressed as a cat then got humped by my dog. Ha! Ha! Ha!
“Camilla?”
“Yes?”
“You just went all glassy eyed. Is it low blood sugar? Have you had breakfast yet?”
“I’m fine. I just drifted off. Had a bit of a difficult day yesterday.”
“Would you like to talk about it? I’m quite a good listener. To be honest, I have to be in my profession.”
“It’s nothing. Well, it’s not nothing but it’s kind of personal.”
“Okay. No problem. I didn’t mean to pry.” He chewed his bottom lip before meeting her eyes again. “But about making it up to you…”
“Yes?”
“Can I buy you a drink?”
“There’s no need. Honestly, it’s all in the past. I’d quite forgotten about it.”
“Well I’m glad to hear that but you’d be doing me a favour if you agreed. See, although I had that party, and some of the villagers came, I’d still like to meet more of the locals. Sitting in the pub alone is a bit… awkward.”
Camilla sighed. What would be the harm in it? He was nice enough and he was living in Heatherlea now, so she’d bump into him from time to time. Therefore, getting to know him a bit better wouldn’t be a bad thing.
“All right then. That would be lovely.”
“Say five-thirty pm? After I’ve closed up the surgery?”
She was meeting her father at four and that could be over quickly or take a while. Then what would she do? Go home alone and stare into a glass of wine? At least if she stayed in the pub to meet Tom, she’d have a distraction after she’d spoke to Laurence.
“See you later.”
She lifted her leg and cocked it over the wall then found herself standing next to Tom. Hairy Pawter immediately pulled on his lead to get closer to her, sniffing hard at her leg. She took a step backwards.
“He means well. He won’t hurt you.”
“After our last encounter, he makes me a bit nervous.”
“He won’t do it again, I promise.”
“I believe you.” She gritted her teeth. “Hello HP.”
The dog’s small stumpy tail wiggled and he huffed at her, seeming to smile.
“He really likes you.”
Camilla smiled. She smoothed the dog’s head and he craned his neck to sniff her gloved hand. He was kind of cute.
“See you later then.” Camilla turned and started to walk away.
“Camilla?”
“Yes?” She tur
ned on her heel.
“Not that I was looking… more that I couldn’t help noticing… you’ve got a big slug on your bottom.”
“Oh!” She looked over her shoulder and sure enough, there was a large sticky slug clinging to her jeans. She pulled it off then threw it back into the graveyard where it landed on the grass. “Bye.”
“Bye.”
She made her way home, conscious of how her wet jeans were clinging to her bum and thighs and that there might well be a slug slime over them too. But she didn’t really mind, because she was meeting Tom later for a drink. And he’d seemed really nice in a shy, intelligent kind of way. He wasn’t like the men she usually dallied with – they were loud, confident and even brash – but Tom was quiet and even sweet. It was refreshing.
When she reached her front door and let herself in, she realised that she was glad she’d bumped into him, because now she had something to look forward to. Something to take her mind off what she had to do first. Because she knew that speaking frankly to her father after twenty-five years of estrangement was not going to be easy at all. In fact, it was going to be very difficult indeed.
6
Camilla immersed herself in numbers and spreadsheets all day, so when she looked at the clock and saw that it was gone three, she was surprised. The time had passed without her worrying and she patted herself on the back again for her chosen profession. There was nothing like a spreadsheet, or ten, to keep your mind busy. She supposed that her love of numbers might have begun when her father left and she had to try to make her savings stretch to feed her and Dawn, when she didn’t want to worry her mother by asking for money to buy groceries, so she’d eek out her coppers to buy bread and tins of beans. She’d known the price of everything in the local shop as well as how far three tins of beans and a loaf of bread would stretch.
She shook her head. It had been a difficult time but Jackie had emerged from her depression and life had continued, if in a different direction than the one they’d thought it would: without Laurence.
And now he was back.
She swiped the screen on her mobile then typed a brief text to her mother and one to Dawn, letting them know that she was meeting with Laurence – leaving out the details about meeting Tom afterwards – and would text them later to let them know how it went. She was curious to know how things were going at Jackie’s anyway; how did someone react when their ex returned after a quarter of a century and asked to stay? Dawn replied instantly telling her to take care and that she loved her.
Camilla hurried upstairs to change and brush her hair. She didn’t want to look like she’d made a lot of effort for her father but she also wanted to look presentable and the leopard print onesie with the hood with ears, that she’d donned to work on the accounts, wasn’t quite what she had in mind. Especially as she was meeting Tom afterwards. She didn’t want him to start thinking she had a thing for dressing up as cats.
Outside The Red Fox, Camilla paused. The sky had turned gunmetal grey and an icy wind whipped around her ankles and buffeted her as she stared at the pretty pub with its stone façade and small paned glass windows. Inside, she could make out the glow of the fire and see a few people enjoying a quiet Monday afternoon drink.
She’d been in the pub so many times over the years with friends, family and clients, but never with her father. At least not since she was a child. She’d only been ten when he left and vaguely remembered having Sunday lunch in there a few times as a child and she thought she recalled him buying her a glass of Coke once, but sometimes she couldn’t be sure if they were actual memories or things she’d wished for. They could even be things she’d seen on TV for all she knew.
“Come on, Camilla. No point dawdling. Let’s see what he has to say.”
She spoke firmly, gathered her courage then opened the door and went inside.
At the bar, she ordered a coffee then, seeing no sign of her father, she went over to a corner table and sat down. She had a clear view of the bar and the front door from her seat, so she wouldn’t be taken by surprise when Laurence arrived.
The hands on the clock above the bar moved round and Camilla drank her coffee. She tried to take her time, but she needed something to do with her hands. When she drained her mug, she thought about ordering another one, but knew that the caffeine would make her more jittery than she was, so she went to the bar and ordered a sparkling water instead.
Back in her seat, she gazed around at the festive décor. The pub was always cosy with its exposed beams on the low ceiling and the open fireplace with its thick oak mantelpiece. The fire burned in the grate sending out a warm orange glow into the pub as the afternoon light faded. The mantelpiece was adorned with holly and ivy that draped over the sides and almost reached the floor. In amongst the greenery, tiny fairylights twinkled. To the left of the fireplace a tall Christmas tree stood in a deep red bucket. The tree was decorated with silver and gold bows and a fairy in a silver sequin dress sat at the top, smiling down at the pub’s patrons. The bar itself was trimmed with silver and gold tinsel and at intervals, sprigs of mistletoe dangled from the ceiling beams. It was a perfect festive setting and Camilla knew that on any other day, she would have appreciated it, but today, she couldn’t reach past the icy blockage in her chest to locate her heart. It was just fear and anxiety, she knew that, but its physical manifestation was horrid.
The clock struck four-thirty. Where was he? Why was he so late?
She sipped her water and took a few slow deep breaths then checked her mobile.
Nothing.
Then she saw him, entering the pub in a dark wool coat with a flat cap on his head, his cheeks ruddy and his face lit up with a smile. The blockage in her chest swelled, threatening to choke her. Here she was, building herself up into an anxious tizzy, and he walked in late and beaming. Bloody hell!
He removed his cap and coat and hung them on the coat stand near the door then looked around. When he spotted Camilla, he waved then gestured at the bar. She shook her head, trying not to scowl. She had to give him a chance, however difficult this might be. It wasn’t just about her but about Jackie and Dawn, as well as Laura and James.
“Hello, Camilla. Great to see you again so soon.”
Laurence put his pint of beer down on the table then pulled out a chair.
“You’re late.”
He frowned. “Am I?”
“Yes.”
He glanced at the clock. “So I am. Apologies, sweetheart. I took a walk around the village and got caught up in nostalgia. You know, I walked past the old park and it was like I’d gone back in time. I remember one day when I took you and Dawn there… gosh you must have been about six and she would’ve been… about three—”
“Four!”
“What?”
“If I was six, Dawn would have been four. She’s two years younger then me, Dad.”
He nodded. “Yes, of course.” He sipped his beer and when he put his glass down, froth clung to his moustache. Camilla pointed at it and he wiped it away with the back of his hand. “So you were six and Dawn was four. We went there for a picnic and spent all day playing and eating strawberries straight from the punnet along with whippy ice creams from the van that parked there in the afternoons every summer holiday. It was a fabulous day. We had so much fun but then… you both got sunburn.”
“Sunburn?”
“Yes and the ice cream… or the unwashed strawberries… upset your tummies. Your mother went mad.”
“And so she should have. Don’t you know how dangerous sunburn is? It leads to skin cancer and all sorts of nasties.”
He shook his head. “Back then, Camilla, we didn’t know so much about all that. But it was a bit irresponsible of me, I know that. I just… I tried to be a good daddy, although I guess I wasn’t always that good at it. You know… I was good at the fun stuff but not so good at the other things. How was I to know the ice cream or the strawberries would give you both the runs?”
Camilla watched him carefully as
he spoke. His eyes had glazed over and he seemed to have travelled to another time and place. He’d changed so much. The memories she had of him were of a tall, broad-shouldered man with a thick ginger beard and hair swept back with wax. He’d had smiling blue eyes with sandy lashes and eyebrows and a strong lean physique. As a little girl, she’d admired him and yes… a lump rose in her throat… she could even remember now telling one of her friends that she wanted to marry a man just like her daddy when she grew up.
But now… the strong young man was gone and in his place sat a shadow. He still had that same big smile that spread from ear to ear but his hair had thinned and turned grey, its red long gone. His beard was mainly white but still had some flecks of rust, a reminder of his youth. He was tanned but the sun and smoking had aged his skin and thick grooves ran from his eyes, over his forehead and from the corners of his mouth, the latter ones disappearing into his beard. His neck was haggard below the beard, the skin loose and his Adam’s apple was exposed. As she stared at him, it bobbed in his throat and she realised that for all his bravado, he was actually nervous too.
“I guess I failed you then… before I even left.”
Camilla met his eyes and was surprised to see that they shone.
“I don’t really remember much about the time before you left, Dad. After you’d gone… it was tough. That time is etched on my memory but the life we had before… I don’t know. There are fragments of memories but nothing solid.”
“I understand. Camilla… I want to say sorry.”
She gasped as the blockage in her chest shifted. “It’s a bit late for that don’t you think?”
“Is it? Is it ever too late to say sorry? I don’t know. I hope not. I’ve come home, Camilla, and I want to make it up to you all.”
“All?”
“Yes, of course. You, your mum and Dawn. My grandchildren.”
Camilla swallowed hard. She had so many retorts on the tip of her tongue but she didn’t want to free them. If she started berating him, she might never stop and there was so much pain in her heart that she knew her words would be harsh. And she didn’t want to be harsh. As much as this man had hurt her and her mother and sister, she didn’t want to hate him. She just wanted… for him to love her.
A Year at The Cosy Cottage Café: A heart-warming feel-good read about life, love, loss, friendship and second chances Page 24
