by Jane Linfoot
I let out another sigh. ‘The counsellors tell you as soon as you learn to love yourself again you’ll be free to move on. But I’m so far away from that. It’s not just my face, I still have so many other regrets. But it’s so much easier to bury my head than deal with them.’
He’s reaching out towards me, and before I know it he’s caught my hand. ‘You’ve had an awful time, but I promise, you will come through it.’ He’s squeezing my fingers, and tilting his head upwards. ‘Look at the sky …’
Between the clouds the patches of velvety blackness are literally spattered with thousands of pin pricks of brightness. ‘All those stars, the more I look, the more I can see. They’re so much brighter than back home.’
He nods. ‘You don’t get the light pollution here that you get in the city. That’s one of the payoffs. What we lack in phone signal we more than make up for with views of the Milky Way.’
I laugh. ‘I’ll tell that to Tom.’
He’s sounding so thoughtful. ‘You know the stars are there all the time, but you only get to see them at night.’
I stoop to pick up a clam shell shining white in the moonlight, and rub it between my fingers. ‘The first few weeks after the accident I hated the dark. If I turned off the light all I could see was the endless blackness that came after the impact. I kept reliving how the radio was still playing but no one was coming to help. How Michael who was driving was slumped over the steering wheel and wouldn’t answer me. Then the flash of blue lights in the night when the police finally turned up, the noise of the grinders as the firemen cut up the car, the taste of blood in my mouth. I still hate all those flashbacks.’
‘You really don’t have to talk about it … not if you don’t want to.’
Somehow now I’ve started it’s less hard than I thought. I can’t actually stop. ‘Gradually, me hating the dark changed and I actually like it now. When it’s dark and no one can see my scar, that’s when I feel most like myself.’
‘You really don’t have to hide it.’ Bill sighs. ‘Dark places aren’t always bad, sometimes they feel safe. I used to love hiding in the cupboard under the stairs as a kid. We’re both having dark times now, but as Keef would tell us, they won’t last forever.’
‘So what about your dark places, how are they going?’ I don’t know where that came from, it’s not even me speaking my mind.
He clears his throat. ‘Well, it’s no secret, Gemma was the one who left.’
‘Oh my. I’m so sorry.’ No one likes to get dumped. But all I can think is that if he’d been mine after Chamonix, how tightly I’d have held onto him and how very much I’d have loved and cared for him. That I wouldn’t have been careless enough to let him go. How when I see the lines of anguish in his face because of everything he’s lost, my heart is breaking for him.
As a cloud rolls back and the moonlight falls on his face, his smile is rueful. ‘I just hadn’t counted on how awful the break up fights would be.’ His laugh is bitter. ‘She took the London house, I kept the castle and the distillery because they belonged to Dad and I anyway.’
My eyes are opening wide. ‘So you’re definitely not just the caretaker or a leaseholder?’
He lets out a snort. ‘A lot of the time with the size of the bills and the maintenance issues, I wish I was just the caretaker. You buy these places thinking you’re getting a bargain, not knowing how they’ll run through your capital. But we’ll get there. As you said once before, giving up isn’t an option.’
I’m trying to say something to make it seem less bleak. ‘The fighting can’t go on forever. Once you start to leave the bad bits behind things will feel better.’
He’s shaking his head. ‘I’m a very long way from that, further than you can ever imagine.’ He swallows and looks up.
Except I’m not looking up at all. Instead I’m looking down. Taking in his fingers entwined in mine, feeling the heat from his palm. Listening to his breathing in the dark. The desolation in his voice is making my heart break for him.
‘Would a hug help?’
The words hang in the air, then get whooshed off out to sea, before it hits – they came from me. What? Why THE HELL did I say that? And of course a hug wouldn’t bloody help! The guy’s in pieces because his super-hot girlfriend walked out, the last thing he needs right now is to be grabbed by some random do-gooder with a ripped up face. What was I thinking? Well, we all know, I wasn’t. It’s my sodding necklace talking, it’s got nothing to do with me. As I yank my hand out of his and leap sideways I’m gabbling. ‘No, you’re right, that’s the worst idea ever … I’m the woman who launched herself into a hot tub … and threw herself into a muck barrow, remember … you’ll have to excuse me … I stuff up big style … all the time … this is just the latest in my long line of mahoosive blunders and mistakes …’
Bill’s shaking his head again. ‘As you’re already so far up the beach you’re practically in the castle gardens, I take it you’re withdrawing the offer?’ He’s biting his lip. ‘Believe me though, you deserve to be hugged by someone a lot better than I am.’
‘P-e-r-lease …’ I’m humming, putting my hands over my ears, sounding like Tiff ‘… let’s just move on …’ Preferably to a suitable hiding place in the bushes where I can lie low until Christmas is entirely over. I need to scrape together a better apology. ‘I’m sorry, forget I ever mentioned it – you just sounded so very sad, that’s all.’
There’s another rueful twist of his lips. ‘You have to roll with the bad times. I told you before, Ivy-star, you need the darkness to see the stars. It’s not all bad, there are good things in there too.’
As we draw level with the castle, the crenellated edges of the turrets are sharp against the smudges of the sky, the lights in the windows are yellow against the dusky walls, and it all looks so sturdy and strong and safe.
‘The castle’s a lot like the stars somehow. It’s always beautiful, but it’s even better at night.’
‘Says the star girl who’s so mercurial she takes back her hugs before she gives them.’ Even in the dark I can still catch the teasing glint in his eye. ‘Does this mean you’ll be returning all your shopping tomorrow too?’
If this is what sea glass does, I’m glad I only got a couple of chips not a whole neckful. But as I go into the castle, instead of being met by a blast of hot air, I’m still shivering with the cold. And I can’t help thinking how much I could have done with the warmth of that hug.
Saturday
21st December
25.
On a cold and frosty morning
‘Okay, Ivy, your cheeks are super-rosy, Bill wasn’t in his room earlier, add in last night’s moonlight stroll – is there something you’d like to share?’
When Fliss launches at me the second I walk into the kitchen from the beach with Merwyn next morning, all I can say is I’m glad Tiff and Tansy aren’t here.
‘Sadly not.’ Oops, spot the deliberate mistake. ‘Obviously, what I really mean is – happily not.’ Glad we’ve got that one cleared up. I’m wiggling my eyebrows and winking at her phone. ‘I take it this means you’ve already been in Bill’s and made the Facetime call.’
‘I did, and now Libby’s in there.’
‘And how did it go?’
Her messy up do has turned into more of a gluey haystack, and she’s fiddling with it as she leans over to check on Oscar who’s lying on the floor banging some large metal tool on the table leg. She finally pulls a piece of jigsaw out of her hair, misses the much bigger lump of what looks suspiciously like melted Swiss cheese from last night, passes a piece of something floppy, beige and sticky onto Harriet’s high chair tray and wipes her hands down the front of her penguin onesie.
‘Total bastard shite.’ She’s mouthing the words at me silently over Harriet’s head.
I roll my eyes. ‘That well …?’
Tarkie pops his head up from under the table. ‘Aunty Fliss is doing gros mots!’
‘What was that he said?’ I’m squin
ting at Fliss.
Tarkie pops up again. ‘It means big words, it’s French for swearing.’
‘Jeez.’ I’m rolling my eyes at Fliss. ‘Tri-lingual kids, whatever next?
Fliss blows out her cheeks. ‘Merwyn talking Tibetan?’
I go back to the important stuff. ‘You girls have got your cutest penguin gear on too.’
Fliss pulls at Harriet’s babygro. ‘Aren’t these padded side fins so adorable they make you want to melt? And Oscar’s in his lion suit with the cutest tufty tail end and mane, with whiskers drawn on his face.’ Right on cue there’s a roar from under the table then a whole lot more banging. ‘And I put my hood up and got my beak in completely the right place too. At six forty-five with two kids in tow, that’s a big ask.’
‘So what exactly happened?’
‘He was in bed when he picked up his phone.’
My stomach drops. ‘You did recognise the pillowcases?’ For once it’s useful she’s still hanging onto her distinctive blue colourway Ikea Cath Kidston cabbage rose rip offs.
‘Oh yes.’ It’s a relief when she nods. ‘Then he said, “Shit, is that the time, thank Christmas you woke me, jeez, I’ve got to go to work.” And straight after that he hung up.’
There’s a voice from under the table. ‘Gros mots. Again. Final warning.’
That’s not much to go on. ‘So, how did he look?’
Fliss pulls a face. ‘Dishevelled …’
I’m agonising because she could be describing herself there. ‘Rumpled like his wife’s been away for a week and he’s had to fold his own polo shirts, or … bed hair like he’s been …’ I send her a grimace. ‘… Jiggin with Jordan.’
‘Jiggin with what?’
‘It’s this guy from Florida who fishes and dives and has a YouTube channel with a gazillion followers. George used to watch him in that phase he had when he wanted to be Bear Grylls. Obviously it’s a metaphor … to dodge our gendarme under the table.’
Tarkie pipes up. ‘What’s a gendarme?’
Fliss wrinkles her nose and ignores him. ‘It’s more a substitution than a metaphor. Even if Rob was alone he had to be dashing off for a quickie at the office didn’t he? Outside of retail, that’s the only reason people ever go into work on a Saturday.’
I suppress a shiver and decide some questions are best without an answer. ‘Is anyone else cold?’
Fliss pulls a face. ‘The temperature has dropped but it’s hard to tell, I’ve got my dressing gown on under here, I was hoping the padding would give me the wow factor for Rob.’
‘Are you sure you’re channelling the right look there?’ Maybe she and Rob have lost their mojo. It’s not that long ago, if Rob went away on a site visit she’d Facetime him naked.
She sends me a wink. ‘Don’t doubt me, I know my audience, Rob loves my Mama Pingu persona – or at least he used to.’ She stops short and her wistful sigh turns to a moan. ‘Oh shit, what if I’m going to be the first one in the family to get divorced? Libby’s so much better than me with her perfect husband and having her kids, and sorting her business. Rob loving me was the one thing I was doing right, I’ve stuffed up the only thing I had to be proud of.’
At the far end of the kitchen Milo bangs the oven door closed and pops up into view behind the island unit. ‘If anyone’s wondering, it’s boiling over here, but I am slaving over a hot Aga.’ He brushes back his fringe, and smooths down Bill’s apron. ‘But it’s fab being in the kitchen unimpeded for once.’ We all know that’s a jibe at Bill.
‘Stay nice, Milo, bitching doesn’t suit you.’
He gives me a look. ‘There’s a stack of banana pancakes with maple syrup and whipped cream here, and a pot of coffee whenever you’re ready, Ivy-leaf.’
I’m sucking back my drool, making up for being a bit sharp back there by not telling him off for the leaf bit. ‘Cool, that’s lovely. I’ll just grab extra sweaters from upstairs for Merwyn and me, and I’ll be with you.’
Fliss’s eyes have lit up. ‘This onesie is very forgiving, Harriet and I would love more pancakes while you’re there please.’
My timing’s good. I’ve just made it back to Fliss at the table with a tray loaded with pancakes when Tom, Tiff and Tansy come in, strangely mute, all wearing headphones, their wires all leading back to the pocket of Tom’s jeans. As for the weather, we must be having one of those Arctic blasts from Siberia. The bedroom was so much like a fridge after the warmth of the kitchen that I added my thermal vest as well as my red and pink stripey jumper with mini Christmas trees on it. And Merwyn was super-grateful when I popped his red and white fair isle jumper on him too.
When Willow and her three come in a few minutes later, I stuff my mouth with banana and cream, and brace myself. To be honest, if yesterday’s blurting is anything to go by, I’d rather sidestep her suggestions and keep my chakras blocked and my aura up the spout. But luckily I’m spared, because they’re deep in conversation in Spanish.
As they come to a natural pause in their gluten free pancakes and in-depth discussion, Fliss leans across to Willow. ‘It’s colder today, have you noticed?’
Willow’s forehead furrows as she considers. ‘We make our own inner energy through meditation, and have a fully insulated timber house with passive solar heating, we don’t tend to tune in to outside temperature changes.’
‘Right.’ Fliss and I are looking at each other pulling WTF? faces, then she leans across to me with her eyes shining. ‘You do realise, this could mean snow. Can you believe, Oscar hasn’t ever seen it.’
A second later there’s a shimmer and the unmistakable crackle of expansive gold puffa and Miranda sweeps into the room. ‘STUFF SNOW!!! I’LL HAVE YOU KNOW THERE’S ICE CHIPS COMING OUT OF OUR SHOWER!’ She’s renowned for enjoying a dramatic entrance. With her arms sticking out and her coat flying behind her like a celestial cape she’s certainly pulled one off here.
Fliss wrinkles her nose. ‘Morning, Mum, lovely to see you too, but aren’t you exaggerating a teensy bit there?’
Miranda’s nose goes up in the air. ‘Put it this way – you certainly won’t be complaining about ghostly banging today because it was too damned chilly for the ghost to show up …’
Fliss is putting her hands over her ears and shouting, ‘Okay, stop … too much information!!!’
‘I had to bring Ambie round with a stiff gin and put him in the hot tub to thaw out. And what does a woman have to do to get a cup of tea round here?’
As Miranda crackles off towards the Aga, I lean so I can see out of the French window, and sure enough, Ambie’s submerged all the way up to his Santa hat and waving a pint tumbler at me.
Milo might be making fresh pots of coffee for me, and pouring tea for Fliss, but he’s not doing the same for her mum. Instead he arrives at the table with a plate piled with pancakes for the kids, but as he turns to me his mouth is pinched rather than smiley. ‘So very strident. And so very unsuitable for Dad.’
Someone’s got to stand up for Miranda, so I nod at Milo’s dad outside. ‘She stops him being so stuffy, and anyway, I don’t see Ambie complaining.’
Miranda’s storming back towards us, her pink leopard dressing gown flying out from under her coat, her fluffy stiletto mules clacking on the floorboards although I think she’s also wearing Ambie’s woolly Argyle socks with them. ‘And where’s Bill anyway? Always AWOL when we need him.’
Right on cue Bill and Keef appear in the doorway. ‘Did someone call us?’
Miranda’s got one hand on her hip, and she’s waving her tea mug in the other. ‘What kind of an establishment are you running here, William? The water’s stone cold, the radiators too!’
If my stomach’s disappeared slightly, I’m blaming it on the fourth pancake and too much maple syrup, not on the dark circles under Bill’s eyes, and the shadows in the hollows of his cheeks. What is it about guys, the more wrecked they look, the more they make your tummy flip?
The way he jerks to a halt and opens his eyes wider, this isn’t w
hat he’s expecting. ‘Ok-a-a-ay – I was out early, I’ve just come back in, are you sure about this?’
Miranda’s eyes are flashing. ‘What, are you calling me a liar now? I might be over fifty and have been through more husbands than you’ve had hot dinners …’ note how she neatly subtracted a decade from her age there, she’s such a pro ‘… but I can tell when the bloody heating’s broken – I’m freezing my bloody tits off here, Bill.’
The way Bill’s blinking he’s struggling with the image as much as the rest of us. ‘Great … we might have lost the pilot light on the boiler. It does blow out occasionally if there’s a flukey wind.’
Miranda’s snapping back. ‘And how often is that? It’s so unprofessional, what the hell happened to client satisfaction and the customer always being right? You should really get that fixed.’
Tarkie’s piping up from under the table. ‘Granny Miranda said a gros mot, Granny Miranda said a gros mot.’
‘Shhhh …’ One touch on his head from Willow’s super-heated hand and he melts away.
‘Give us a moment, we’ll see what we can do.’
As he follows Bill out Keef’s eyes are popping too, but he pauses in the doorway. ‘Y’all, remember, we smile for life, not just the photos.’ He’s still there, frantically flicking through his brain files to find a better one. ‘Stop thinking about what can go wrong, and start getting excited about what can go right!’ Then he nods and a grin spreads across his face as he tosses back his braids. ‘There are people who would love to have your bad days, Miranda.’
Miranda’s running her fingers through her coppery blonde curls as she takes that lot in. Then she twitches her nose, dips into her pocket and pulls out her tobacco. ‘So much of Bill bollocks, I need a cigarette.’
If she’d pulled out a hand grenade Willow couldn’t have leaped up any faster. ‘Absolutely not, Sailor, Scout and Solomon have lived a totally carbon free life so far, you’re not tarring their lungs up now.’
