‘So what’s the story?’ Lissa put her feet up on the little coffee table, wiggling her toes in fluffy socks. She held out a hand and Ella put a glass of red in it before collapsing onto the sofa beside her friend, and switching off the television. The fire was burning merrily, and Charlotte – who hadn’t been taught by Lissa, but who’d only just left school and so couldn’t see her as anything more than the slightly terrifying Miss Jones – had made herself scarce and headed upstairs to have a bath.
‘I think I’ve freaked Charlotte out.’
‘She’ll get used to it.’ Ella swallowed half a glass of wine in one gulp. God, she was tired.
‘Is she staying here all the time now?’
Ella shook her head. ‘Not officially. But her dad can’t get over to pick her up in the evenings, and I get the feeling she’s quite happy to totally lose herself in horse world. I was the same at eighteen. If I hadn’t gone to uni, I’d have worked in a yard.’
‘I think life in her house is pretty full-on, from what I could gather when she was at school. Lots of siblings. She probably enjoys the peace.’
‘It’s nice having her around.’ Ella shifted in her chair, feeling her back aching. ‘I want to have a word with her tomorrow, see if we can make it more formal. She can get accommodation as part of the package – we’ll give it six months, see how it goes.’ She stretched. ‘I need a massage or something. I feel like I’m falling apart.’
‘Getting old, that’s what it is.’
‘Watch it, you.’ Ella swatted her, laughing. ‘All this extra work we’re getting is wearing me out.’
‘Ooh, that’s the other thing I wanted to talk to you about. You’ll never guess what happened. I was in a meeting with the head of the Pupil Referral Unit, and you came up in conversation.’
‘I did?’
‘Well, I brought you up,’ Lissa grinned. ‘Sort of crowbarred you in, but he didn’t seem to mind. He’s got two years’ worth of funding to do something different with the kids at the unit, and I sort of threw your hat in the ring.’
Ella got up and threw another log on the fire, watching the flames die down and then rise up as the silver birch bark caught alight. If she could get an ongoing contract, she’d have a guaranteed income coming in. It would make all the difference. No more balancing clients with bills and keeping her fingers crossed that the two would meet in the middle, somehow.
‘Ell?’ Lissa broke into her thoughts. ‘You don’t mind, do you?’
‘No, it’d be amazing.’ She realized that she meant it. All this time she’d avoided working with children, and Hope had changed her mind.
Lissa beamed and raised her glass. ‘Bloody hell. I thought I’d completely screwed up.’
‘The opposite.’ Ella touched her glass to Lissa’s. ‘So what’s happening besides that?’
‘Well . . .’ Lissa looked coy, and hid a smile behind the edge of her wine glass.
‘Well?’
‘I had a very nice coffee date with the hot single dad from the PTA. You know the one at Hallowe’en – the one with the beard?’
‘You did not.’
‘Did too.’ Lissa grinned. ‘We were discussing fundraising possibilities for the school.’
‘That doesn’t sound like a hot date.’
‘Yeah all right, but it’s a start.’
‘Anyway, you can’t go getting off with a parent. It’s against the rules, or something.’
‘Not if they’re not one of my pupils,’ Lissa said, reaching across and tipping more wine into their glasses.
‘That sounds like seriously dodgy ground.’
‘No, I mean, literally not a pupil. His eldest got a music scholarship for St Jude’s.’
‘So why’s he still on the PTA?’
‘He signed up to be the chair in September. Well, I think he was guilted into it. And then the scholarship came up, and he’s tried to leave but nobody’s willing to take it on.’
‘So you took him for coffee to seal the deal.’
Lissa’s eyebrows flashed upwards for a second. ‘No, I’m hoping dinner next week’ll do that.’
‘You are impossible.’
‘You love me for it, though.’
‘I do. How are you feeling about the Christmas lunch extravaganza at your dad’s place?’
‘Hideous. I feel really bad for you too, leaving you in the shit.’
‘Oh don’t worry, I’ve been invited to have Christmas lunch with Jenny and Hope.’ Ella pulled a face.
‘OK, and you’re quizzing me about ethics?’
‘Oh, it’s fine.’ She’d said yes to Hope without actually thinking it through. But she’d decided that actually, there was nothing to say she couldn’t have lunch with them. It seemed fair enough – and she’d only be there for a couple of hours at most, then she’d head off back to do evening stables. It would be fine, she told herself, not for the first time. Nothing could go wrong.
Winter at the stables was so busy that the weeks leading up to Christmas passed by in no time at all. Brian and Carol carried on meeting ‘by accident’ for a coffee each time they had a session. Charlotte branched out into riding several of the horses, and they were flourishing on it. Ella felt a secret pang of envy, watching her schooling Tor in the early morning sunshine.
‘Don’t you ever wish you could just jump on and head up across the hill?’
Charlotte was angling to be allowed to ride Tor outside the confines of the indoor arena. On a day like this, Ella could understand why. The air was crisp, the sunlight filtering in thin, pale rays through the hedge. She laid a hand on the frost-covered wooden gate and felt the sensation of the cold beneath her fingers. Riding – at one with a horse, across the hills, where the animals ignored her and she could see deer up close and red kites flying overhead – was the thing that had always made her feel most alive. Her chest ached with longing, but –
‘I’ve told you before,’ and her voice was slightly sharp, despite trying to modulate her tone. ‘I can’t ride.’
‘Oh God, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean –’ Charlotte turned Tor away across the school and Ella felt an immediate pang of guilt.
‘I know.’ Her tone was conciliatory. ‘I tell you what, one day, between Christmas and New Year, I’ll walk the dogs up the hill and you can hack out with me – if you’re not busy?’
‘Oh my God. I’d love that.’
‘Consider it an early Christmas present.’
The joy on Charlotte’s face was enough for Ella to know she’d done the right thing.
Chapter Twenty-two
Harry
Harry, Jenny and Lou sat together, watching Hope opening her presents with the uncontained joy that only an eight-year-old can. She had been entranced by the bite marks in the carrot she’d left out for Rudolph, and was determined that she was going to keep it in the freezer forever as a happy memory. Right now she was upstairs, clearly more than a little bit over-excited, watching one of her favourite Disney movies on her iPad. It was only half past nine, and Harry was so tired that his eyeballs throbbed. He wondered if he could sneak off to bed for an hour before lunch, but decided he’d better give Jenny a hand with the cooking instead and let her have a rest.
‘I’ll do the veg and make the potatoes,’ he said, firmly, steering Jenny away from the baking hot Aga.
‘This thing has a bloody mind of its own,’ she said, sitting down at the kitchen table and putting her head in her hands.
‘It’s just a case of getting used to it.’
‘It’s been ages,’ said Jenny, despairingly, ‘and I still haven’t tamed it.’
She looked hot, and tired, and cross. Harry wondered if the shine of rural life was wearing off a little bit. He thought about her lovely house back in Norfolk with its kitchen, range cooker and double sink. It was her pride and joy. Maybe renting this place for six months had been a bit excessive.
‘That –’ Harry lifted up the door and slid a pan into the warming oven, ‘is pretty much averag
e for a meal cooked on an Aga. I grew up with one.’
He had, that is, until his mum had left. He’d been ten years old when she’d moved out of the huge, draughty house that sat like a ship in the middle of the Broads and into a centrally heated, all-mod-cons bungalow on the edge of Thetford. The first thing she’d bought was a microwave. He’d loved the half of the week he spent at her house, where – freed from the shackles of that bloody monster (the Aga, she meant, he thought) – she let him eat ready-to-heat dinners every night after school.
‘You sit down.’
Jenny flopped onto a kitchen chair, and he poured her a glass of Bucks Fizz. ‘Here, have that. It’ll perk you up.’
‘Are you joining me?’
‘Not yet.’ He made a strong black coffee and pottered around the kitchen, organizing plates and serving dishes.
‘What time are we expecting our mystery guest?’
It had delighted Hope so much that she had a secret surprise – as she’d called it approximately five hundred times already that morning – that Jenny had agreed that yes, they could keep the identity of their lunch guest a secret. Harry didn’t let on that he’d overheard her telling Lou in a stage whisper loud enough to be picked up in the next village that the horse lady was coming for Christmas dinner.
‘I said midday. You’ve done a good job of keeping up the pretence.’ Jenny smiled up at him.
‘I’m dying to meet this miracle worker.’
‘Can’t believe you’ve not met her yet. She only lives up the lane.’
‘I know –’
He knew exactly why he hadn’t. He could have taken Hope up the other day when she went for a session after the last day of school, but he’d cried off, saying he’d go to the supermarket instead, pretending to himself he was being helpful. The truth that he didn’t like to admit was that he felt a bit put out that Jenny had – once again – muscled in. He’d scaled back work, was trying his hardest to be there for Hope, but it wasn’t as easy as all that, finding a way in.
Lou was dozing on the sofa, worn out by their supremely early morning. Harry settled down by the fire after he’d finished sorting out the kitchen, and with Hope curled up in the crook of his arm, read her stories from her new book until he dozed off and she crept away, finger to her lips, giggling conspiratorially with her Grandma.
The knock at the door woke Harry. He jumped up from the armchair with a jolt, catching sight of himself in the mirror. His hair was standing on end, his jaw shadowed with stubble. And he had bags under his eyes big enough for a transatlantic flight. He rubbed his face with his hands, yawning so widely that his jaw cracked, and braced for impact. He could hear Hope scampering across the slate floor of the hall to answer the door before anyone else could.
‘That’ll be our visitor,’ said Jenny, appearing from the kitchen with a tea towel over her shoulder.
She opened the door into the hall and he heard voices – excited chatter from Hope, and –
He looked and saw a dark-haired woman bent low over a picture Hope was holding. Her hair was loose and tumbled in waves over her shoulders, and he couldn’t help noticing the curve of her waist and hip in the clinging turquoise top she was wearing with her jeans. She straightened, and turned to say hello.
‘Harry, this is Ella.’
Chapter Twenty-three
Harry
There was a moment of silence which seemed to last forever. Her hazel eyes widened, the freckles on her nose standing out as she first went ghostly pale, and then a faint blush stained her cheeks. She raised a hand as if to cover her mouth, then dropped it again, arranging her face into one of polite greeting.
‘Ella, this is Daddy. He’s good at cooking and he says he won’t burn the turkey like Grandma keeps doing with all the dinners since we lived here.’
Hope giggled, and took his hand.
‘Shall I take your coat?’ Jenny lifted it from Ella’s hands and hung it on the peg by the stairs. ‘Would you like a drink?’
Nobody seemed to be aware of what was happening. He couldn’t find the words to say what needed to be said.
The blood was thrumming in his ears, drowning out Jenny, who was still chattering away. Ella was standing frozen to the spot as well, her dark eyes huge and her lips parted as if she, too, was trying to find the appropriate response.
He felt as if he was standing outside of his body watching the scene. There he stood, his mouth hanging open wordlessly. His T-shirt was untucked, and his hair was mussed up from where he’d been asleep on the sofa, completely oblivious to the fact his whole world was about to be spun on its axis once again.
‘Come on, Daddy. We can show Ella the baking kit I got from Santa.’
His daughter’s voice broke the spell and he looked stupidly at his hand as Hope darted forward, tugging him towards the kitchen door.
‘That sounds – lovely,’ said Ella, her voice faint.
Hope clapped her hands in delight and danced on the spot.
‘I’m so excited you’re here. Ooh! Can I show you the book I got about horses? I’ve been drawing pictures of them and learning all the points of the horse so you can test me. I know them almost all by heart already.’
‘Take a breath, sweetheart,’ said Lou, appearing in the hallway at last. He reached out a hand to Ella and shook hers. ‘Very nice to meet the famous Ella-from-the-stables at last. I have to confess I was expecting someone – older.’
‘Lou.’ Jenny gave him a sideways look.
‘What?’ he said, mildly. ‘Hope said she was quite old.’
‘She is,’ said Hope, matter-of-factly. ‘She must be at least twenty-five, and that’s really old.’
Thirty-three, Harry found himself thinking. Birthday the nineteenth of October. He still hadn’t uttered a word.
‘Anyway, can you come up and see the horse book now?’ Hope tugged at Ella’s arm.
She smiled. ‘I’d love to.’
She caught his eye for the briefest moment, and he felt a maelstrom of emotions churning up, threatening to boil over. But he could see Hope was on the verge of over-excitement – and he was the adult.
He tipped his head slightly in a nod of welcome.
‘Nice to meet you, Ella.’ There was a tiny inflection in her name which nobody in the room but her would catch. She looked down at the floor, avoiding his gaze. He turned on his heel and headed back into the kitchen, closing the door behind him.
Harry swore under his breath as a splash of boiling hot goose fat splashed on his arm while he rearranged the trays in the Aga. The turkey was out and resting, covered with towels, on the worktop.
‘Ella has the patience of a saint,’ Jenny said, walking into the kitchen.
She pulled out the drawer and started counting cutlery for the meal, piling it on the table beside them. Each tiny metallic clatter set his nerves on edge a little bit more. He felt like he was going to explode. If the place had any mobile reception, he’d text Holly and say – what the hell would he say? He’d dropped Holly back at the station a couple of days before – she’d stayed longer than expected; weeks, rather than days – because (there have to be some perks, she’d said, rolling her eyes) being self-employed, she could. Nothing had happened between them. He’d thought, watching her laughing with Jenny and Lou one lunchtime as they sat in the Lion pub, that it would have been the simplest thing on earth. Hope adored her. She was part of the family. She was the link that would have kept Sarah alive, in a strange way. But Sarah was gone, and no matter how easy it would have been, he’d realized that it wasn’t the answer. He still wasn’t sure what was.
They’d had a lovely time together with Hope, and she’d headed home on the train, giving him a kiss and hug goodbye that had left him standing on the platform wondering. Holly was hardly the sort of person who’d be sitting around waiting on the off chance he was going to make a move. And he hadn’t, because something had stopped him. And now – this.
He shook his head. He’d placed his hands flat on the marbl
e-effect worktop, trying to find some sort of balance, but it wasn’t working. What the hell was she doing here?
‘Right,’ said Jenny cheerfully. ‘That’s the cutlery sorted. I’ll set the table here, shall I?’
The cottage was so small, and it seemed to be shrinking. Right now she was upstairs with Hope, but in a moment she was going to emerge and the walls were closing in on him.
‘I’m just going to nip out the back for a sec, get a bit of fresh air.’
‘Course, love,’ said Jenny. She looked up at the clock. ‘I thought we could eat at two-ish. D’you think the veg will all be ready by then?’
‘Yep.’
If she was surprised at his brief response, she didn’t say anything.
He closed the back door behind him and leaned against the centuries-old wall of the cottage. This place must’ve seen some dramas in its time. Think, think – there had to be a way to deal with this. What would Holly say? She knew – through Sarah – about his previous marriage. It hadn’t been a conscious decision to keep it from Jenny and Lou, but it just hadn’t ever come up. And then time had passed. How was he supposed to casually drop into the conversation the fact that they’d inadvertently invited his ex-wife for dinner?
Ella was still as beautiful as ever. He allowed himself a moment to recall the long hair hanging down her back, brushed out as it never was when she was working with the horses. She’d been dressed in slim-fitting dark jeans and a light green embroidered top that set off her eyes. She hadn’t changed at all.
She looked just as she had the day he’d walked into the newspaper shop, still thinking there might be hope of reconciliation, and seen the words trapped behind the local newspaper billboard in six-inch-high letters.
WIFE NAMES HUSBAND AS CULPRIT IN DEATH CRASH
The old feelings curled up tightly in his stomach. He realized that he was standing with his hands by his side, his nails biting into his palms and his pulse pounding in his ears.
How could he be so stupid? How could he forget the damage she’d caused with her careless accusations, the whispers and pointing at work, long after the hearing had found that the crash was nothing more than a heartbreaking series of coincidences. No smoke without fire, people had said. If he didn’t do it, why did his wife leave him?
Finding Hope at Hillside Farm Page 18
