We Belong Together

by Beth Moran

  ‘For goodness’ sake. For all our sakes. For the sake of William and Richie and wee Janey Thomson. The Wright twins, Trevor Brown and everyone else who can’t be here to say it – we need to say enough. It’s time to start again. To let go of this damn feud. To build a bloody bridge. Here.’ She pulled a small brown purse from her coat pocket, opening it up with trembling hands and taking out a note, which she held aloft. ‘Here’s my contribution to the new bridge fund.’

  Gavin from the Old Boat House ducked forwards and held out a beer tankard for her to drop it into.

  Caris Smith gave one slow, determined nod of her head, stiffly turned around and began hobbling back into the crowd.

  Alice was the first to start clapping. Becky, who had appeared on the other side at some point, was second, swiftly followed by Luke.

  By the time the cheers had subsided, Alice had come up with a plan.

  ‘Right. The first meeting of the Rebuilding Committee will be next Sunday evening at seven. At the Damson Farm barn, so none of you can gripe about sides before we’ve even got started. Ziva Solomon and me’ll be co-chairs. There’ll be a zero-tolerance policy for anyone who turns up with any goal in mind that isn’t saving this village.’

  ‘Will you start a Facebook group?’ someone called out.

  ‘No, I bloody won’t!’ Alice shouted back. ‘I’ve got a pub to run, I ain’t got time to waste policing the cesspit of social media.’

  ‘Free drinks on the house to celebrate?’ someone else cried.

  ‘Free drinks all round!’ Alice grinned. ‘Once the bridge is officially open and you can walk across to the Old Boat House to fetch them!’

  28

  On Monday, Luke arrived to start renovating the bathrooms while Becky and I worked on research and costings for various garden designs in the living room. It wasn’t the most productive of days, given that one half of Team Damson was in charge of a baby who’d just learnt how to pull herself up using the furniture, and the other half spent most of it staring into space, jumping out of her seat every time a particularly loud thud came through the ceiling.

  Tuesday we spent trawling through local garden centres, Hope safely in her pushchair, and Wednesday Daniel took the afternoon off while Becky and I redrafted the plans to fit with the various sale items that we couldn’t resist buying, despite not being on the list.

  Becky managed a whole two-minute conversation with Luke without spilling the tea she’d brought him or tripping over anything. Unfortunately, that resulted in even more swoony staring at the ceiling, and even less work done. I almost went upstairs and asked him out on her behalf, but I suspected that would make her worse.

  Thursday, Becky messaged to say that something had come up and she wouldn’t be in that day. I didn’t ask what, but it had to be a big something if it meant missing her daily dose of Luke. That made me feel slightly less peeved that she wouldn’t be there today of all days. I hadn’t said anything, but it was my birthday. My thirtieth. And while I hadn’t wanted to make a big deal out of it, I had planned us a nice lunch to celebrate, and had even invited Alice to join us.

  She sent me another message a minute later:

  Alice said to tell you she can’t come either.

  What? How did Becky even know Alice was invited? The thought that they’d been having cosy conversations without me somehow made my disappointment even worse.

  Before I could muster a fake reply along the lines of ‘That’s fine! No probs!’ another message pinged through:

  Get your sparkle on later though, we’ll pick you up 7.30 xxx

  I had no idea how to reply to that. It made no sense. Did they know it was my birthday, and if so, how? And if they did, then why had they cancelled lunch at the last minute?

  I clocked your DOB when we registered Damson Farm as a business xxx

  Oh. Okay. So what about lunch? I had no answer to that until Daniel found me mooching around the garden with a pad and pencil later on that morning. He’d had an early conference call, so had already been holed up with Hope in the study when I got up that morning, and I hadn’t seen him since.

  ‘Hey.’ He came up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and planting a kiss on the side of my neck that sent tingles shooting right up to the top of my scalp. ‘Making plans?’

  I shrugged. ‘Pretending to, at least. I can’t really concentrate.’

  He rested his head gently on top of mine. ‘You should probably take the rest of the day off, then.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yeah. Come and have a stroll in the orchard. The damson trees are starting to blossom. Let’s take a look.’

  ‘Okay…’ I hadn’t told Daniel that it was my birthday, either. I’d meant to, at some point. I knew that when he eventually found out he’d feel awful that he’d missed it, but I wasn’t sure how to bring it up without sounding like I was angling for a present, or a meal out or something, so I’d taken the path of least resistance and said nothing.

  ‘Where’s Hope?’

  ‘At Mum’s. I’m picking her up later.’ Daniel kept one arm around my waist as he propelled me around and started walking towards the orchard.

  ‘Oh?’ I couldn’t help a smile creeping over my face as we crossed the garden and through the gate. The sun was shining in a vivid blue sky, the air was mild and fresh and the orchard was thrumming with the springtime revival. Butterflies danced with the bees, pheasants clucked among the undergrowth and the floor was a carpet of bluebells and yellow primroses. Daniel led me through the shade of the trees to a far corner I’d not ventured into before.

  ‘What’s this?’ I said gesturing at a bright blue wooden arbour I’d only just spotted.

  Daniel’s whole face was beaming. ‘Happy birthday.’

  ‘What?’

  He led me around to see that the arbour overlooked the meadow as it ran down to the river below. Beneath the roof were two benches angled at ninety degrees around a circular table, all painted in the same azure blue. The benches were covered in pink and yellow cushions, and on the table was a picnic basket.

  I love you.

  I bit my lip to prevent the words spilling out, but I’m sure they must have beamed from my eyes, the watery blinks spelling it out loud and clear in some sort of lovesick morse code.

  ‘This is for you.’

  ‘You mean the picnic?’

  ‘I mean the whole thing.’ He laughed then, and I couldn’t help laughing with him as the sheer joy bubbled up and out along with a tear.

  ‘You built me an arbour?’

  ‘I paid a guy in the village to build it. But yes, it’s for you. I hope the tears and laughter mean you like it?’

  ‘Are you joking? I love it! This is the best gift anyone has ever given me. Even better than when Mum and Dad gave me a Powermop.’

  ‘There’s also this.’ He reached into the basket and handed me a rectangular package. Removing the wrapping, I found a framed photograph of Charlie and me, from the first time she’d come to work at the Tufted Duck. We were both wearing aprons and brandishing wooden spoons in a Charlie’s Angels pose. Charlie had a streak of flour in her hair. Beneath the dramatic expressions, we were clearly about to burst into laughter.

  ‘Where the dream began,’ Daniel said, slipping his arm around my shoulders.

  ‘Okay, so I changed my mind.’ I turned my head to bury my face in his neck. ‘This is the best gift.’

  We stood there for a long moment, and as my memories settled, only one thought replaced them: I love you!

  Could I say it? Should I? I had never said those words to a man I wasn’t related to before. Let alone one I’d been dating for less than three weeks.

  Before I could make up my mind, Daniel pulled back, tugging me over to the nearest bench. ‘Come on, Charlie wouldn’t want us moping about on your birthday. Let’s eat.’

  Lunch was delicious in every sense of the word. An entrancing view, picnic food from an upmarket farm shop that even Nora would approve of, including a ri
ch, gooey birthday cake, and the best possible company.

  Once we’d finished eating, and Daniel had waited politely for me to finish waffling on about the garden plans, we snuggled closer and lost ourselves in long, indulgent kisses.

  I couldn’t say the words out loud, but with every touch my body declared the undeniable truth:

  I love you.

  No offence to my new friends, but I wasn’t sorry that they’d bailed on my birthday lunch.

  It was late in the afternoon by the time we packed everything up and ambled back through the trees, arms entwined, hair mussed, wearing matching stupid smiles as we floated along in a romantic haze.

  Luke met us in the farmyard, having just finished up for the day. ‘You missed a parcel delivery.’ He nodded back towards the house. ‘It’s on the kitchen table.’

  He swung up into his van with a nod and the barest hint of a knowing smile, and left us to it.

  ‘It’s for you,’ Daniel said, handing me a box about eight inches square.

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Did you order something for the house?’

  ‘No.’ I shook my head, puzzled. ‘Maybe Becky did.’

  I carefully ripped off the parcel tape and opened the top of the box. Peering in to catch a glimpse of the contents, I instinctively jumped back, gasping in alarm. I dropped the box onto the table, my adrenaline revving into overdrive.

  The box fell on its side, causing some of the contents to spill out onto the table.

  It was jam-packed full of bees.

  Dozens and dozens of dead bees.

  My stomach contracted in horror and revulsion.

  ‘Do you think they were supposed to still be alive?’ I stammered, trying to cling on to any possibility that this was not what I thought it was.

  ‘It’s a sealed box. I can’t imagine anyone being stupid enough to think bees could survive being sent through the post in these conditions.’ Daniel picked up the box and gently tipped a few more out onto the table. ‘And if you’d opened a box of live bees, wouldn’t that be worse?’

  I allowed a moment to imagine quite how much worse that scenario would be, before shutting it down as best as I could. Releasing a swarm of bees into the kitchen while Hope was here didn’t bear thinking about.

  ‘There’s a note,’ Daniel said, taking a card out from the bottom of the box.

  ‘I’ll read it,’ I blurted, reaching to take it off him, but he’d already scanned the message.

  ‘Happy birthday. Hope you get everything you deserve.’ Daniel scrunched up his face in disgust. ‘What? Do you know what this means? Who’s this from?’

  I sank into a chair, feeling as though all the blood in my body had pooled around my feet. My head collapsed into quaking hands. ‘They won’t be from Ziva’s hives, will they?’ I managed to rasp the words through my seized-up throat.

  Daniel pulled a chair up close to mine and took hold of my hand. ‘I hope not. But I’ll ask her to check.’

  We stared at the pile of desiccated insects.

  ‘I can’t believe you’ve annoyed someone enough to go to this much trouble. If it was to do with Ferrington, surely they’d have done something weeks ago? Though it might be worth asking Alice if she’s had any unexpected packages.’

  ‘Did you tell anyone it was my birthday?’

  Daniel shook his head. ‘No. I didn’t even mention it to Mum.’

  After hasty messages to Becky and Alice, I quickly established that no one else in Ferrington knew it was my birthday.

  ‘I think we can safely rule those two out,’ Daniel said, grimly. ‘Who else knows you’re here?’

  ‘No one,’ I whispered, lost in a whirlwind of dread and disbelief. And the list of people who knew my birthday was not a long one.

  ‘So, who the hell sent this?’ Daniel’s face was set, all hard lines and clenched jaw. His scar stood out stark against his cheek. ‘What’s it supposed to mean, “I hope you get what you deserve”?’

  I took a deep breath. Now was the time. I had to be brave, and honest, and if it meant the best birthday ever became the worst, then so be it. I steeled my spine in preparation.

  ‘I don’t understand why anyone would want to do this to you of all people.’ He pulled me close into a hug, and as my face sank against his chest, my steely spine dissolved into mush.

  ‘I was a writer.’ I pulled myself upright again, heart splintering at the swirl of compassion and anger in his eyes. ‘Every journalist gets hate mail. I’ve had plenty of nasty comments on social media over the years, people taking an irrational dislike to me, or offended by something I’ve said.’

  ‘Eleanor, someone packaged up a load of bees into a box. This is way beyond a snarky tweet. And if someone went to the trouble to find out both your birthday and your current address, that’s not a passing dislike. It’s a stalker.’

  I blew out a shaky sigh. ‘You’re not really making me feel any better, here.’

  ‘I’m sorry, but I’d rather you took this seriously and ensured you were safe than tried to cheer you up by dismissing something potentially dangerous as nothing to worry about.’

  ‘I am taking it seriously.’

  ‘We need to call the police.’

  I shook my head frantically, trying to come up with a good reason why not. ‘It’s just a parcel of bees. I don’t think we need to do anything drastic. Like I said, this is par for the course for a journalist. Especially a reviewer. And I’m not sure they can do anything, even if they had the time and resources to bother.’

  ‘They could start by scouring the area for people covered in unexplained bee stings.’

  ‘Look, it’s my birthday, we’ve had a lovely day up until this. If we call the police now I might have to stay in and talk to them, miss my birthday night out with Becky and Alice. They’ve told me to put on my sparkle. I can’t remember the last time I did that. Please can we leave it for today, see how we feel in the morning once the shock’s settled? I’ll have a proper think about who it might be. Go over my old social media accounts, see if there’s any helpful clues there. And you can talk to Ziva, give her a chance to check out the hives.’

  He huffed, rubbing at his scar. ‘I need to pick up Hope now anyway.’ Looking at me, he narrowed his eyes. ‘But we’re calling them tomorrow. This needs dealing with properly.’

  He grabbed his keys and left, leaving me to sweep the tiny corpses back into the box before changing into the closest item I had in my wardrobe that resembled sparkle.

  Needless to say, I was not feeling sparkly.

  29

  It was beyond late by the time I tumbled out of the taxi, waving a groggy farewell to Becky and Alice as they hooted and hollered their happy birthdays at me one final time.

  We’d had a night full of food, fun and utterly fabulous friendship, and while deciding to drown my rampant terror with cocktails was probably not a sensible idea, it had been a successful one.

  I did ask whether either of them knew if anyone was still mad at me for the wine and cheese fiasco, or whether Alice had noticed any animosity since her table-top announcement at the weekend. They waved off that suggestion with flapping hands and insistent cries that I was being paranoid.

  I’d of course checked my old phone at least every two minutes before I’d left that evening. There’d been nothing. But at the end of the night, once I’d stumbled up the stairs, tugged off my velvet trousers and glittery top, I couldn’t resist checking it again.

  Did you like your present?

  And a second one, sent a few minutes later:

  Would you like to thank me in person?

  The threat hit me like a fist in my guts.

  They knew where I lived. Were they coming for me?

  I made it to the toilet just in time to spew up my birthday celebrations.

  Sweating, shaking, head spinning with panic, I crawled back into bed and clutched the duvet for dear life, as if a mound of stuffing could save me.

  My past was about to catch up with m
e. In more ways than one.

  The following day, I dragged myself out of bed just after eight. I needed at least four days’ more sleep, but that wasn’t happening any time soon, and I desperately needed water and painkillers for my pounding head.

  Daniel arrived back from dropping Hope off at Billie’s while I was boiling the kettle.

  ‘Ouch!’ He winced at my bleary state.

  ‘Thanks,’ I croaked.

  ‘A good night, or a bad one?’

  I shrugged. ‘Both.’

  He vanished into his study, magically reappearing the second I’d finished my tea.

  ‘Right, are you ready to do this?’ He nodded at my phone.

  I slid the phone closer with a frail hand. ‘Don’t feel the need to hang about. You’ve already taken yesterday afternoon off.’

  He leaned against the worktop, arms folded. His expression was grim, but when he spoke the words were gentle. I wasn’t the focus of his carefully suppressed fury. I wondered how long it would be before that changed. ‘I’m not going anywhere.’

  ‘Okay.’

  I made the call, giving the briefest of details and being reassured that someone from the local police department would be in touch. This was followed up with a return call and appointment made for later that day. By that point I needed a second cup of tea, and Luke had arrived with new bathroom doors for the recently made doorways leading to the smaller bedrooms.

  Becky joined us soon after. ‘I was going to take it easy this morning, but then Mum called and said about the bees. Bloody hell, Eleanor. Why didn’t you mention it last night?’

  I mumbled something along the lines of it really not being that big a deal, but then a wayward tear slipped out, and Becky wasn’t buying it anyway, instead wrapping me in a hug before plying me with yet more tea and leftover birthday cake.