The Last Day of Winter

by Shari Low

  Caro took a sip of coffee, misery seeping from every pore as she thought about her answer. She didn’t have a logical explanation, just a vague explosion of thoughts that seemed to crash around in her mind, battering her ‘until death do us part’ gene into submission.

  ‘I’ve had the same dream every night for the last week. A wedding. My wedding. Only it’s not me. The bride gets to the end of the aisle and the groom is my dad, and he lifts her veil, and it’s my mum and she’s crying and begging me not to do it.’

  ‘Oh love…’ Val murmured, sympathy and compassion in every crease of her pained expression.

  ‘And I know why she’s saying it. Look at them. Married for thirty years and the whole time it was a sham. What’s the point? Did it make my dad stay faithful? Did it make my mum happy? Was there a single thing about their marriage that I’d want for myself? Nothing. All it brought was misery. My mum died alone and only the fact that her mind was long gone saved her the agony of finding out that my dad had been cheating on her for thirty years and walked out when she needed him most. That’s what marriage is to me. A sham. A complete farce, but worse than that, it was the thing that wasted my mum’s life. From the moment she married my dad, she lived for him, and she ended up dying alone while that bastard lived it up with someone else. I know this won’t make sense to you, but marriage destroyed my mum’s life. And now…’ she was forcing herself to speak through her sobs, ‘I feel my mum is telling me not to do it. I know that sounds completely messed up because I don’t even believe in that kind of stuff, but this isn’t making me happy, Val. It’s making me miserable, and anxious and so, so scared. This isn’t how anyone should feel on their wedding day.’

  An air of shock now mingled with the fetid aroma of last night’s revelry.

  Chrissie reached over and pushed Caro’s messy hair back from her face. They all knew the shocking story of Caro’s discovery when she first came to Glasgow and found out that her father had been living a double life. Two families in different cities. ‘But, Caro, your parents are not you and Cammy. You two are so different.’

  ‘I know that. And I love him and I am absolutely sure he loves me and we’re meant to be together. I just can’t marry him. And I’m pretty sure if I tell him that now I’ll break his heart. I don’t know that he’d ever forgive me.’

  ‘Of course he would,’ Val argued, hoping she was right. He was a good man, Cammy. She couldn’t imagine any circumstances under which he’d walk away from Caro. But then… if there was one thing that life had taught her it was that you never really know the people you love as well as you think you do.

  Caro didn’t even register Val’s uncertainty, too lost in the hopelessness of her situation. How had she let it come to this? She was a good person. How could she even consider hurting the man she loved? Yet, the very thought of pulling on a white dress and making those vows turned her stomach.

  The ring of the doorbell interrupted her thoughts.

  ‘That’ll be Josie,’ Val said, with definite relief, as she got up to go answer the door.

  Caro, meanwhile, slumped down further in her chair, consumed with dread and regret. Josie had done so much for them, planned and sourced everything that they would need to make the day perfect. She’d even bought a clipboard on eBay and had taken to making lists and ticking things off. She’d wholeheartedly embraced the project and now it was all for nothing.

  Val’s footsteps retreated down the hallway. They’d faded out of earshot by the time Caro made a snap decision and jumped up from her chair.

  ‘I have to go,’ she blurted to Jen and Chrissie. ‘I can’t just sit here and do nothing about this.’

  ‘Caro, wait, we’ll sort it all out and…’ Jen ended up speaking to an empty space as Caro grabbed her bright red duffle coat from the back of the kitchen door, thrust her feet into a pair of boots, picked up her bag and bolted.

  Out in the hall, she was greeted by a huge white cloud coming towards her. Not Josie. Claire, her wedding dress designer, complete with a four-month pregnancy bump, was negotiating her way past Val while holding aloft a huge white garment bag containing the bride’s dress for the big day.

  Caro wanted to throw up. Instead, she kissed Claire on the cheek, took the garment bag off her, hung it on the back of the living room door and then shimmied past her. ‘I’m sorry, Claire. So sorry.’

  ‘For what?’ her friend asked, confused.

  ‘The wedding is off.’

  ‘What… what… what…?’ Claire couldn’t process the information.

  Val took over. ‘Where are you going then? Caro, love, stay here, we’ll help you. You don’t even have a hat and gloves – you’ll catch your death of cold out there today.’

  ‘Then it’ll save me cancelling everything,’ Caro murmured. ‘I’m sorry, Val, I really am. I just can’t stay here and face this.’

  ‘Let me come with you then,’ Val offered, as Caro whizzed past her.

  ‘No. I appreciate it, I really do, but this is something I need to do on my own. I need to sort this out myself.’

  Leaving two stunned friends, two hung-over bridesmaids, a house that looked like it had been ransacked and a pristine wedding dress, the bride-to-be walked out and closed the door behind her.

  Seven

  Seb

  The terminal building was heaving with people as Seb made his way through arrivals, smiling when he spotted a large group of women with Santa hats, party blowers, and a ‘Welcome Home Stacey!’ banner. Whoever Stacey was, she was lucky to have a welcome like that waiting for her. A bolt of reality struck him. He had no family, and he’d led such a nomadic life, he had no large groups of friends anywhere either. There was nowhere in the world that he could go and be greeted by a crowd of eager faces waiting for him.

  In the corner of the terminal, Christmas music was coming from speakers near a huge white Christmas tree. It must be eight metres high, yet it wasn’t having any effect on his lack of festive spirit. This had been Juliet’s favourite time of the year. They’d always spend the afternoon together, just the two of them, and they’d have a huge party at night, with everyone invited. There was a big expat community in Estepona, so many people that were far from their loved ones and Juliet was wonderful at making them forget that, just for one night.

  Seb stopped at the car hire desk to collect the vehicle he’d booked online when he’d decided to come here a couple of days ago. The choices were slim, with this being the busiest weekend of the year, and he’d ended up with a…

  ‘Here’s the key to your Mercedes, Mr Lloyd. Enjoy your stay in Glasgow,’ the rental clerk told him with a cheery smile as she handed over his paperwork and key.

  A white E-class Mercedes. It had cost more for the car than it had for the west end hotel that he’d reserved at the last minute too. That’s what happened when you had no family left in your home city.

  Glasgow held such bittersweet memories for him. The happiest times and the saddest of times too. He’d grown up here, he’d discovered his love of golf on the courses here, he’d married in the city, and he’d said goodbye to people he loved too.

  He’d been an only child, and both his parents had passed away in the last five years. His last few trips home had been to visit them when they were sick, and then to watch as they were placed in the ground. He’d thought that was the extent of the heartbreak he’d have to endure for a long time. How wrong he’d been.

  Juliet had no family left here either. Her parents had split twenty years ago when she was at university in Glasgow, and now her father lived with his second family on the south coast of England, while her mother lived with her third husband in a very lovely retirement village on Majorca. That lack of family was one of the things that had bonded them so tightly. Both of them grew up without siblings, and neither of them had ever had children. Just two souls, who knew from the first moment they met that they were destined to be together.

  He found his car in the bay that was noted on the top of his paperwork
and put his bags in the boot, with the exception of the brown leather satchel containing a sealed urn. He wouldn’t let that one out of his sight and was just grateful that it hadn’t raised any flags when he’d gone through security. That was one item of hand luggage that he didn’t want to have to explain.

  The clock on the dashboard said 10.15. Too early to check into his hotel. Ironic. He’d had days to think about this trip and yet now that he was here, he wasn’t sure whether or not he was crazy to carry out the things he’d planned to do. At the end of the day, he knew he had to let Juliet go, to fulfil his promise and scatter her ashes somewhere that had meaning to her. He still wasn’t sure exactly where. That’s why he planned to step back in time, to visit all their special places, to remember, to feel the pain of what he’d lost and to seek some kind of atonement for what he’d done. He told himself that he’d know when it was the right time and place to say their final goodbye. Although, he wasn’t entirely sure he’d have the courage to do it when the time came.

  He joined the motorway slip road, heading west, away from the direction of the city centre. Thirty-five minutes later, he pulled into the car park at the Lomond Lodge Hotel, situated next to one of the most prestigious courses in the country. He saw his hands were shaking as he switched off the engine. The car park was busy, as he’d known it would be. He’d been the golf pro here when they’d first met, fifteen years ago, and while the course would have no business in this weather, the grand stately home beside it was a favourite with families who had money to spend on the festivities. He took a moment to steady himself, until he felt his legs had the strength to climb out of the car and walk inside.

  The lobby was a riot of tasteful colour and decorations, all traditional golds and reds, a grand tree soaring into the vaulted ceiling above. An orchestra played over the speakers. He recognised Handel’s Messiah – one of Juliet’s favourites at this time of year.

  He made his way through to the lounge bar, a stately, wood-panelled room with one wall of floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the loch. Every table was occupied, except… He watched as a couple got up from the table he and Juliet had always considered theirs, placed some cash in the leather wallet containing their bill and then walked off arm in arm.

  Seb smiled at them as they passed him, then raised his eyes heavenwards. If ever he needed a sign that Juliet was there with him, this was it. He made his way over, sat in the familiar seat and looked out over the view that took his breath away, even now, when sheets of rain were battering against the window.

  This was where they’d met. Seb had been sitting at this table, updating his schedule in his Filofax – he hadn’t yet embraced the digital era back then – when he’d heard the sound of a throat clearing.

  Turning his head to the window so no one could see his face, he closed his eyes, desperate to be back there, to experience that moment all over again. He blocked out the present, and felt every nerve in his body surge with happiness as he returned to the past.

  ‘Excuse me, is anyone sitting there?’ the voice said, with a hint of an apology.

  Seb glanced up from his notes to see the most endearing smile, the kind that immediately warms you to a stranger. The woman’s eyebrows were raised in question, and only then did he realise that he hadn’t answered her. ‘No. I mean yes. I’m… sorry, what was the question?’ Crap. What had just happened? Some kind of mind fart had robbed him of all powers of articulation. She must think he was a complete idiot.

  ‘Is anyone sitting here?’ she repeated, her hand resting on the back of the velvet armchair positioned opposite him. Thankfully, he could see that she seemed to be finding his ineptitude amusing.

  ‘No,’ he said, very definitely. ‘No-one is sitting there. And yes, you’re very welcome to take the seat. And no, I won’t talk nonsense to you any further. Actually, I can’t promise that.’

  ‘I’ll take my chances,’ she replied, her low throaty chuckle attracting the attention of some of the people sitting nearby, who automatically smiled.

  She was infectious, he realised. And beautiful. Her long chestnut hair fell in waves past her shoulders, creating a curtain for green eyes that had an intoxicating feline slant. But more than that, from the easy way she moved and held herself, he could see that she had absolutely no idea just how stunning she was.

  Seb had always mocked the concept of love at first sight. Over the years, he’d had a stream of relationships with beautiful, interesting women. The golf world was an extremely sociable environment, especially for a good-looking, successful pro with an easy-going manner and a genuine interest in the people he met. He’d come close to a more long-term commitment a few times, only for life to get in the way. A career move. An offer from another country. The chance to join a professional player on a tour. His professional aspirations and enjoyment had always been his priority. Some people might call him a loner, and they were probably right, but he preferred to look at it as making the most of a fantastic lifestyle. Good friends, great parties, an exciting job, and a transient existence – but one that allowed him to fully enjoy the experience.

  Right there, in that instant, he changed his mind.

  ‘I’m Seb,’ he said warmly. ‘I’m the golf pro here at the course. And I won’t say any more if you just want to read or relax and ignore me. I can take rejection.’

  ‘Juliet,’ she replied. ‘I’m here for a teaching conference that I’m supposed to be embracing, but it’s far too beautiful a day to be stuck in a windowless room with two hundred strangers, so I’m skiving for an hour. Playing hookie. And I don’t care if I get caught because this view is worth it.’

  ‘Yes, it definitely is,’ he agreed. ‘There are few that can match it.’

  He was looking straight at her when he said that. And he meant every word.

  ‘Sir, can I get you anything?’ The waitress’s voice snapped him back to the present, to a rainy December morning so different from that first meeting.

  ‘A coffee, please,’ he answered, trying not to show his desolation at the spell being broken. He tried to step back in time again, but it wouldn’t come. Instead, he stuck to his memories.

  Juliet’s one hour break had lasted for twelve. They’d walked along the loch, come into the hotel for dinner, then gone back outside and sat under the moonlight with brandies, Juliet wrapped in a blanket to keep out the summer evening chill. They’d swapped stories, they’d laughed and they’d fallen in love as the stars shone and the water glistened.

  Later, there had been no questions, no words, no doubts, when they’d gone back to his suite in the golf club wing of the hotel and made love until dawn. That was it for them. A done deal. Juliet had left her school a few weeks later at the end of the term, and they’d moved to Portugal together, where Seb had been offered a lucrative post on a stunning new course. It had been the start of a nomadic life, a couple of years in each place – Portugal, Spain, a stint in the USA, then latterly back to Spain again, with several short trips back to Glasgow to see his parents, and to revisit old memories and make new ones. The thought that he’d only ever come on his own now made his chest tighten.

  The waitress placed down his coffee, in a china cup with a square of Scottish tablet on the side, and retreated with a smile. She would be far too young to remember him, and he doubted that any of the old staff still worked here, yet the feeling of familiarity was undeniable. He and Juliet should have come back to this hotel more often. They’d only managed it a couple of times, on their fifth anniversary and then again on the tenth. It had always seemed like they had plenty of time. Now he knew different.

  A commotion over by the entranceway attracted his attention. A bride and groom passing by to cheers from the crowd of family and friends that surrounded them. This was a popular wedding spot, with sometimes two or three on the same day in different function suites. He’d even attended a wedding on the eighteenth hole for one of his most regular golfers, a woman who’d persuaded her fiancé that there was nowhere else she’d rat
her say I do.

  Seb and Juliet had thought about marrying here, but somewhere else seemed even more perfect. He’d get there today too. But first, he watched as the bride turned around and threw her bouquet over her head to squeals of delight from the bridesmaids waiting to catch it. For a second he wondered if that could be… No, he immediately dismissed the thought. Pearl had told him that her niece was getting married in the Kibble Palace in Glasgow at 7 p.m. tonight, so, of course, this couldn’t be her.

  However, the thought of ‘what if’ was harder to dismiss when it came to Pearl’s niece. He and Yvonne had spent the week together, around – from what he could gather – the same time as her daughter had been conceived. It was all pretty vague, though. The dates matched up – he remembered exactly when it was because only a few weeks later he’d left Aberdeen – but that was only one half of the equation. He had no idea if Yvonne had carried the baby for nine months or whether she was premature or overdue. She had been with her boyfriend in the week before their brief affair, and gone back to him the day it ended. The chances of the child sharing his DNA were so slim. Yet… just for today, he was going to let himself believe that there was the slightest possibility it could be true. Right from the beginning of their relationship, he and Juliet had accepted that they wouldn’t have children. They’d both been forty when they met and it just hadn’t happened. Perhaps if they’d got together in their twenties or thirties, there would have been a hole there that they’d have felt a longing to fill, but that had never been the case – they’d been so blissfully happy with each other, so grateful for what they’d found together, that it had been enough.

  However, that was when he had his love by his side and no idea that having a child was even a possibility for him. Now, the thought consumed him and he had to know. But not yet.

  He finished his coffee and tucked a five pound note under the side of the saucer. Time to go. This was the last day he would spend with Juliet and he still had places to go and more memories to share.