For a long time he gazed into the distance, thinking. Guilt tugged at him with sneaking, relentless fingers. Jules was down there, far to the south, in her hospital bed in Glasgow where she’d been transferred yesterday. Her parents had followed the ambulance in their Skoda, a grim foreshadowing of a funeral car behind a hearse.
He shuddered at the image. Dean had informed him that the doctors hadn’t given up on her yet, but they were duty-bound to prepare the family for the worst. Dean had also gone to Glasgow, the baby too, now that he was ready to leave the SCBU, in the hope that the infant would help bring her out of her coma. Rex’s heart broke for all of them.
He found a lump of rock to perch on and drew a flask out of his backpack, ignoring his sandwiches.
Nell didn’t ignore them. He usually shared them with her, so she stuck her nose into his hand to let him know that though he mightn’t be hungry, she certainly was.
Stroking her ears absent-mindedly, he drank his coffee and tried to keep his emotions under control.
When tears gathered in the corners of his eyes, spilling over and trickling down his chilled cheeks, he realised he’d failed. If he was going to cry, what better place to do it than on the top of a mountain where no one except his dog and a few birds would witness it? He’d tried so hard to be strong, and not to break down – because that wasn’t going to benefit anyone, was it? – but he couldn’t prevent the outpouring of grief and sorrow that was threatening to overwhelm him now.
Giving in, recognising that he had to let it out, he put his head in his hands and sobbed.
He seemed to be crying for everyone – for Jules, for Lyall, who might be left motherless, for Jules’s parents, for Dean, for his own parents, who had the possibility of a new grandchild to consider and were trying to be supportive and strong for him and the baby. He was also crying for himself, and even though he thought he was being selfish for mourning what could be the imminent loss of his own dreams, he couldn’t help himself.
Leanne, with her creamy skin and her smiling brown eyes, filled his mind. He could almost smell her flowery scent, almost feel her in his arms. He’d been on the brink of telling her he loved her, consequences be damned.
Thank God he hadn’t.
Feeling drained and empty, though somewhat calmer and more focused, he continued with his walk, but not before remembering to feed his sandwiches to a grateful Nell. If he was hungry later, he’d grab something before he left for the hospital. He planned on visiting this evening; he needed to see the baby. He had yet to cuddle the little boy, and the urge to hold him was impossible to ignore.
Was this what fatherhood was all about – this overwhelming longing to be near your child? He smiled ruefully. He might be desperate to hold him, but he was terrified at the same time. What if he dropped him, or hurt him in some way? Crikey, he hadn’t appreciated how simple life had been only a couple of weeks ago. The prospect of being a parent – and the dread of being a single one, at that – had turned him into one giant mess of uncertainty.
One such uncertainty was to do with his job. He was supposed to be back at work tomorrow. Luckily, he hadn’t been scheduled to work this weekend, but he had to return at some point. As much as he didn’t want to leave Glenshona, he had to go back to Tanglewood until the results of the paternity test were in and he knew one way or the other what his future would be.
He checked his watch. It was time he made his way back down. He wanted a shower before he set off for the hospital and maybe a bite to eat. He still didn’t feel hungry, but he knew he needed to keep his strength up for what was to come.
Just one more minute, though, because it was so peaceful up here. The lack of people, the wide-open spaces, the heather-scented air, the huge sky – it all gave him room to breathe and think, although he’d not managed to arrive at any clear decision or course of action yet.
The view from the top was breathtaking, and he took a moment to savour it.
Bloody hell! His phone ringing made him jump; he hadn’t anticipated being able to get a signal up here.
It was Dean.
Oh God…
He froze, a part of him not wanting to answer, not wanting to hear what he knew Dean was about to tell him.
‘Hello?’ His voice broke and he coughed to try to cover it.
‘Rex, mate? I’ve got some news.’
‘Go on.’ He was holding himself rigidly, his shoulders tense, his head aching.
‘She’s come out of it.’
‘What?’
‘Jules. She’s woken up.’
Rex’s legs gave way and he slumped down onto the grass. Nell, thinking this was a new kind of game, jumped on top of him.
‘Nell! Get off!’ Rex pushed her away. ‘Sorry, did you say Jules is awake?’ He could hardly believe it.
‘Yeah, she is.’ Dean sounded relieved and exhausted.
‘That’s fantastic news. Tell her I said hi. Oh…’ A horrible thought occurred to him. ‘Is she OK?’
Dean immediately knew what he meant. ‘A bit confused and really tired, but yeah, she’s good. They’re going to keep her here for today, then transfer her back tomorrow. They reckon she could be home next week. She’s even breastfed Lyall.’
‘Brilliant. I’m so happy for her, and for Lyall. I hated to think of the poor little chap without his mother.’
Dean let out a sigh. ‘Me too.’
An awkward silence followed, then both of them spoke at once.
‘You first,’ Rex said.
‘I was going to say, I think it might be best if you waited until Jules and Lyall are out of hospital before you visit. Is that OK?’
‘No problem,’ he said, although he really would have loved to visit the baby and hold him for the first time.
After asking Dean to give Jules his regards and the baby a kiss for him, he ended the call. For the second time that day, he had tears in his eyes, but this time they were due to relief.
With a slightly lighter heart, he hiked back down the mountain. Now if only he could get Leanne Green out of his head… But a part of him really, really didn’t want to forget her.
Chapter 42
Leanne swallowed hard. If she’d thought the contestants had been under pressure before, it was nothing compared to the pressure that the four of them still left in the competition felt now. There was only one more round to go after this one, and then the winner would be revealed.
She didn’t know whether to giggle hysterically or to burst into tears. The whole thing seemed rather unreal. She couldn’t claim to have grown close to her fellow florists, but there was a degree of camaraderie mixed in with the intense competitiveness she was sure they all felt. She wondered if the contestants of Bake Off felt the same; on that show the bakers seemed to be the best of friends and highly supportive of each other. Her fellow Stars weren’t, she felt. They were in it to win it, come hell or high water or a fight over a bunch of asters.
Not that anyone would be using asters this morning, because the theme for the unseen task was ‘Green’. Not a bloom or a bud in sight.
For a change, each contestant had been allocated a set number of leafy stems, plus the usual assortment of oasis in various shapes, string, wire, tape, vases, twine, a wreath, glue, raffia and moss.
Rory was his usual sleek, polished self. He shot his cuffs and cleared his throat. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, you may have noticed that the chiller and the stockroom are locked, and that you each have identical items on your benches. You can use all of the items or some of the items. What you make is entirely up to you. Today we are giving you free rein in your designs.’ He lowered his voice and leaned forward, as if he didn’t want the judges to hear, which was difficult considering they were standing right next to him. ‘They want to be wowed. Think outside the box.’ He straightened up again, then boomed out, ‘You have one hour, and your time starts… now!’
Green. Great. Wonderful. Even though ‘green’ was supposed to be Leanne’s forte, she didn’t have a clue what
she was going to do. She might as well grab her handbag and go home right now, because everyone else was twisting and snipping with enthusiasm. Or was it manic determination to produce something?
She stood there for far too long, idly rolling a leaf between her fingers, her mind a terrifying blank. She rolled another one. The first had uncurled slightly. Could she do anything with that, or had she simply destroyed a part of her allocation?
An itch at the back of her mind was irritating her. Bag, handbag…
She had it!
Selecting the largest leaves, she began rolling them into tubes, fastening them in place with a dab of adhesive. When she had about forty or so, she laid ten side by side and stuck them together. She did the same with nine more leaves, placing them on top of the first, then added another layer, then another, fewer leaves on each successive one, until she had a shape with a flat front and back and curved sides. After that, she built the edges up with yet more rolled leaves, and inserted two twine handles. Then she tied leaves into a kind of a bow around them and stepped back.
She had made a handbag. It wasn’t perfect, but with the time constraint it wasn’t too bad. At least the shape was right – it looked like a hobo bag, only firmer and smaller, and with more definition.
She thought it was quite cute. She only hoped the judges did too.
By now, she was exhausted and beginning to think that if she never saw another flower for as long as she lived, it would be too soon. She suspected she was starting to quite dislike flower arranging, floral displays, floral competitions, people who judged floral competitions… In fact, she came to the conclusion that she didn’t even like flowers themselves any more, or anything green for that matter. She was fed up to the eyeballs with it. The only thing she wanted to do was fall into bed and sleep for a week and forget she’d ever agreed to come on this stupid show. What on earth had possessed her to enter it in the first place?
But when the four remaining contestants lined up for the judges’ verdict, she remembered the reason – because she knew she could do this, that she was good enough, ambitious enough – and her drive and enthusiasm returned in a rush of desperate longing to get through to the final.
After all, with Rex out of her life, what else did she have?
Chapter 43
The envelope was on the hall table when Rex arrived back from the supermarket. He’d offered to do the shopping for his parents. It was the least he could do, considering he was still staying with them. Besides, it kept him busy. Jules had been released from hospital yesterday, a day later than expected, and he was due to visit her and the baby this afternoon. Tomorrow, Sunday, he had to make the long journey back to Tanglewood. The National Park Trust had agreed to the time off, but they were expecting him back in work on Monday.
He couldn’t wait to see Lyall. That brief glimpse of him in the too-sterile environment of the SCBU had been nowhere near enough, and Dean had made it clear that he wasn’t needed – or wanted? – at the hospital. But now that Jules and the baby were home, he was dying to pay the little boy a proper visit.
Putting the carrier bags down in the hall, he drew in a deep breath as he eyed the envelope. The bungalow was still and silent. Both his parents were out, and he was grateful for the solitude. This was something he preferred to face on his own.
He knew what the letter contained. All his post went to his Tanglewood address, but he had given his parents’ address for this particular matter. After all, he hadn’t known how long he was going to be here, so it seemed sensible.
He stood there for a long time looking at it. Seeing the result in black and white would make it so final. If he was Lyall’s dad, there was no coming back from this. The irrefutability of the results in that letter was a solid weight in his heart.
Slowly he reached out a hand, noticing it shaking a little, and with his thumb and forefinger grasped the envelope and picked it up.
It was light and insubstantial, hardly heavy enough for the enormity it contained.
‘Just do it,’ he muttered, and tore the envelope open and drew out the letter in one swift motion, before he gave himself a chance to change his mind.
The words DNA Profiling Test Results jumped off the page. Underneath were the words Alleged father followed by his own name, and Child followed by Lyall’s. He noticed that Jules had used her own surname for the baby.
And underneath that was the result.
He stared at it for a long time.
Probability of paternity 0%
He nodded to himself once, then carefully folded the letter and put it back in the envelope, which he replaced on the hall table. He debated whether to call Dean, but there didn’t seem any point. Dean would have had the results today too. By now, he would know who Lyall’s father was, and that it wasn’t Rex. He didn’t know how he felt about that, but he did know there was a splinter of sorrow in his heart; he hadn’t realised until now how much he’d accepted the prospect of being a father.
This was for the best, he said to himself as he threw his things into his holdall and gathered up Nell’s bed and bowls. Jules and Dean would be proper parents; together with Lyall, they’d be a complete family, without the complication of stepfathers and birth fathers and visiting rights, arguments over who the boy should spend Christmas with and the minefield of feelings and emotions that went with it.
When his phone rang, he realised he’d almost been expecting it.
‘Hi, Jules.’ He heard how flat his voice sounded.
‘I just wondered if you were still coming over this afternoon?’ She was cautious, her tone careful.
‘There’s not much point, is there?’
‘You’ve got the results?’
‘Yep.’
A pause. ‘I would have thought you’d be over the moon that Dean is the father.’
‘Ah well,’ was all he said, but he heard the catch in his voice and guessed Jules had probably heard it too.
‘I didn’t realise you wanted kids so badly,’ she said.
‘Neither did I,’ he admitted.
‘Dean told me you didn’t get to hold him.’
‘Who, Dean? Nah, if he wants a cuddle, he can ask you for one.’
Her chuckle floated over the airwaves, and he was pleased he’d lightened the mood a little.
‘Silly, I meant Lyall,’ she said.
‘I know you did,’ he replied softly.
‘You can still come over if you want.’
‘Can I pop in and see him another day? It’s just that…’
Jules seemed to understand. ‘Of course you can. Any time.’
‘Bye, Jules, and I’m glad you’re better. Give my best to Dean.’ He found he meant it too.
But a part of him still grieved for what he’d so nearly had. An even bigger part of him grieved for what he’d actually had and lost.
Leanne.
Chapter 44
‘Saul,’ Rex said in greeting.
‘Rex,’ Saul replied.
Both men fell silent, reaching for their respective pints and taking a long swallow.
Rex was drowning his sorrows for the second evening in a row. Once he’d arrived back in Tanglewood in the early afternoon, he’d spent his Sunday sorting out the house after a week away – laundry, food shopping (what little there was in the cupboards and fridge had gone stale or past its use-by date) and catching up on emails. He’d also napped a lot; he hadn’t realised how weary he’d been. He’d kept himself busy yesterday and today, because he was back at work, but the evenings had stretched out before him, long and lonely. Everywhere he’d looked he’d seen memories of Leanne: sitting on the sofa, lying on the floor with her nose buried in the soft fur on the top of Nell’s head, or taking the plates out to the kitchen. He’d come to the Hen and Duck for yet another pint (or three) and the hope that a change of scenery would take his mind off things; if that didn’t work, the alcohol might help numb the ache.
Not for the first time since he’d got back, he wondered if he wa
s doing the right thing by staying in Tanglewood.
He couldn’t keep running away, he’d told himself sharply. He didn’t want to move back to Glenshona now that there was no reason for him to do so. Yet he didn’t want to stay in Tanglewood either, because of Leanne. Well, the memories of her at least, because he wasn’t entirely sure whether she was still in the village or if she had left for good to move to London and accept Jarred Townsend’s fabulous job offer.
‘Any news?’ Saul asked, breaking the silence.
‘Nah. You?’
‘Not really.’
Silence again. More pint sipping.
Rex finished his beer. ‘Fancy another?’
‘Why not?’ Saul tipped his almost-empty glass at Mads, who was serving behind the bar. ‘Same again, mate.’
Rex didn’t mean to, but the words just slipped out of his mouth. ‘How’s Leanne getting on? You know, with the competition an’ all?’
‘She’s through to the final,’ Saul said, but he didn’t sound too thrilled about it.
‘That’s good, isn’t it? It’s what she wants.’
‘I suppose.’
‘How does she feel about it? I know she was worried,’ Rex said.
‘She still is. It’s a big step and I’m not sure her heart is in it.’
‘In what? Winning the competition, or taking Jarred Townsend up on his job offer?’
‘You know about that?’
‘Yeah.’ Rex didn’t mention that it wasn’t Leanne who had told him but Mabel. Though it didn’t matter who’d told him; the outcome would be the same – Leanne was still going to live and work in London.
‘She’s lived here all her life. Moving to London will be a huge change,’ Saul said.
‘Did she find a manager for the shop?’ Rex asked.
‘Not yet.’ Saul’s face closed up and Rex wondered what he’d said to offend the other man. Then he took a sip of his ale, screwed his mouth up and said in a rush, ‘Between you and me, I don’t think she’s trying too hard.’
The Tanglewood Flower Shop Page 20
