Hawthorn (4 page)

Only two more weeks until I start college. Honestly, if it wasn’t for the law saying that I had to study for another two years, I’d be getting a job. I want to start my own business someday selling novelty jewellery, but I guess if I have to study then Art and Design is a good topic to have under my belt. Mum insisted I take another A-level too, something more practical. I decided on Biology simply because it comes easy to me.

I’m not looking forward to starting the new college. Aside from the travel, there’s the fact that I won’t know anyone. My fantasy about being all mysterious and elusive kinda popped when I went into the village the other day. People don’t seem to care for strangers. I guess we’ll have to live here for a while before we’re considered locals. It’s annoying because I know this house has been in our family, one way or another, for generations. It’s a Learmonth legacy, although I’m not a Learmonth, I’m a Hastings. But mum was a Learmonth and, as the last surviving Learmonth, she got the house.

The ground is hard and sun-baked under my trainers, but there is a definite chill to the air today despite the sun. Autumn will be here soon. The summers always feel so short. I have my sketchbook in my bag and a packed lunch. The house is as done as it can be now, only the final touches to be added, so mum’s finally released the reins, and I decided to explore the woods to the west.

The woods lie on a gentle slope and it is cool under the canopy of trees. Once again I see the first touches of autumn in the changing colour of the leaves, all orange and red. I don’t know much about trees, but these look different to the ones outside the villager’s cottages. These trees have wide-spread branches and a bushy look with twisted trunks, as if each tree is trying a different pose. There are bright red berries hanging in clusters from the branches. It’s much cooler under the canopy of the trees and I slip on my hoodie and look for a nice spot to eat my lunch before making some sketches. The day stretches ahead of me, filled with glorious possibilities.

I’m still searching when I spot the strangest looking tree. It’s larger than the others, but that’s not what makes it stand out. It’s the trunk that draws me, split in two in the middle and twisted at the top to make an aperture that looks like the eye of a needle. It’s wide enough to slip through. At least I think it is. I am overcome by the strangest feeling of familiarity. I take a step toward the tree, and then another, suddenly eager to find out if my theory is correct.

“I wouldn’t do that if I was you?”

I spin around in alarm to find the owner of the voice.

“Hi.” He is leaning against a tree, all casual-like. He’s tall, taller than Liam, with dark messy hair and dark eyes. He is striking to look at, the kind of guy you expect to see in one of those Cinderella story movies, or a character from a young adult paranormal novel. I stare at him, expecting him to disappear or grow some pimples or something, but he remains as gorgeous as ever.

Liam. I love Liam, I remind myself.

He holds out his hand. “Come on, those things can be dangerous.”

I glance at the tree then back at him. “You have to be joking.”

“No.”

“So you’re saving me from a tree?”

He nods sombre-like.

I feel a stab of irritation. Who does he think I am, some gullible twat from London or something? I step back and touch the tree and quirk a brow at him. Hah!

He smiles. “Maybe I just wanted to hold the pretty girl’s hand.”

I don’t know what to say to that.

“I’m Sam.”

“Gemma.”

“Nice to meet you, Gemma.” He flashes that smile again, all white even teeth and a dimple.

“You live up at Learmonth, right?”

“Yeah, what about you?”

“I don’t.”

God, he’s trying to be cute. I hate that. “Um, anyway, I best get going.”

“Why? You just got here. There are some lovely spots to sketch. I can show you if you like.”

I frown. How does he know I sketch? My pad is in my backpack.

He cocks his head as if listening to something. “You have artist’s hands and an artist’s eyes. I see the way you look at things.”

Once again I don’t know what to say to that apart from, “You been watching me?”

He smiles. “I spotted you a few minutes ago. So, you coming?”

I hesitate. “I don’t know, you could be a serial killer or something.”

He nods. “True, but then we’re far enough from your house and the village for me to just grab you if I want.” He grins disarmingly.

I laugh. “Okay, you have a point. Lead the way.” He turns and I follow. This could be good. He looks my age, maybe a little older. Making a friend could be good, make starting college easier with a familiar face to look forward to.

I can’t help study his back, tapered down to his tight butt. Damn, now I’m checking him out. He does have nice arms, though, wiry and strong-looking even if he’s as pale as the moon. He doesn’t seem to feel the chill in the air.

I wonder if he’s wearing sun cream. I bet he burns easy.

I trip and stumble, but don’t hit the ground because he has me.

I don’t know how, but I have to ask. “Are you a vampire?”

He stares at me for a long beat and then bursts out laughing.

After a second I join in.

I realise he is still holding me, his hands warm on my skin. “Come on then, show me this place.”

He lets go of me and ambles off again. “Eyes on the trail now, Gemma.”

The sun is glorious. I know it won’t last. We’ve been lucky so far, a long summer, but the weather forecast says it’s going to get cooler. There is a definite bite to the air today and the salty tang is more prominent. Right now I want to enjoy the sun and my new home. The uneasy feeling I had when we first came here has been swept out with the cobwebs and dust. It’s amazing what a coat of paint, a good scrubbing and your own furniture and knick knacks can do to make a place feel like home.

Learmonth House definitely feels like home now.

Danny and Heather are playing at the bottom of the garden. It’s good to see them getting on again. I don’t know what it is about moving houses that throws everything out of balance, but things seem to be settling back into their comfortable nooks now like a jigsaw puzzle that is almost complete.

I feel Mary behind me standing in the patio doors. I wait for her to step out, and when she doesn’t, I hold out my hand.

“Babe? You coming out? It’s lovely.”

Silence.

I sit up on the sun lounger and glance back at the house. The doorway is empty.

I sit back, confused. I was sure she’d been there. I’d felt her presence.

Something’s presence…

No. I push the thought away. There are no such things as ghosts. Even if there are, I won’t have them, not here.

Mary slips into the lounger next to mine.

I blink in surprise because I didn’t hear her coming.

“Sandwich?” She puts a plate on the table between us.

“Oh, yum!” I take a neat triangle. Egg mayo, my favourite.

“I’m sorry I’ve been such a moody cow the last few days,” she says

“The last few days!”

“Fine, the last few weeks. I was just so stressed out about…everything.”

I chew and swallow. “I know. It’s okay, but we did it. We made it, we’re here and it’s our home.”

Mary nods, glancing back up at the house. “I know. It looks fab now and the kids have got so much room to play and stuff. It’s great.”

I study her face and I can tell she’s hiding something.

“What’s the matter? What’s bothering you?”

She shrugs. “It’s stupid. Just bad dreams, just the stress, I know. But they just seem…they seem so real.”

I swing my legs off my lounger and face her, taking her face in mine. I plant a soft kiss on her lips. “It’s going to be fine, I promise. Look, why don’t you go take a nap? I’ll watch the kids and make dinner. I’ll wake you later and run you a lovely bubble bath. Trust me, once you relax, those nasty nightmares will piss right off.”

She smiles at me and her face lights up, and I am reminded of why I fell in love with her. It was that smile that did it. Sunshine warm on my face, that’s what her smile is.

She kisses me this time, soft and lingering.

It’s been a while since we made love. With the move and everything, we’ve been so tired.

“I love you, Jules.”

“Love you too, babe.”

She disappears inside the house, but reappears a moment later. “Oh, I almost forgot. A lady from the antique shop in town is coming down at two today to look at some of the furniture we want to get rid of, can you…”

“Course. Go get some rest.”

I wait for her to leave and then call the kids over for some lunch.

The spot is beautiful, at the edge of the woods overlooking the sea. The sky is clear and the sea a flat expanse of blue. The beach below is all clean, perfect sand, and it’s deserted. Once again I am overcome with a sense of familiarity. I’ll have to ask mum if we’ve been here before. It stands to reason that we may have visited when I was a child.

“Nobody really comes to this cove,” Sam says. “Consider it Learmonth’s private cove.”

I like the sound of that. I imagine a bunch of family picnics and maybe even the odd rave if I can get away with it. I’m thinking, with Jules covering for me, I might just be able to.

My stomach grumbles and Sam hands me an apple. I stare at it, then back at him, tight jeans riding low on his hips and a white T-shirt stretched tight across his chest and shoulders.

“You got an invisible backpack or something?”

He disarms me with his grin. “Something like that.”

I study the apple then shake my head, holding up my own backpack. “Thanks, but I brought my own lunch and I’m not much of an apple fan. I prefer pears.”

I unzip my bag and pull out my sandwiches wrapped in cling film. I unwrap them and hold one out to him.

He shakes his head.

Is that disappointment I see in his eyes? But then he’s smiling again.

He smiles a lot.

I like it.

I chew and swallow. “So, you go to the college in Elder?”

He shakes his head. “No, sorry.”

“Oh, so where do you go?”

“I don’t.”

I study him. He can’t be more than seventeen, maybe eighteen. Maybe he’s already finished his studies.

“How old are you?”

“How old do you think I am?”

I’m starting to get annoyed. It’s like trying to juice a prune. “I thought you might be around my age, sixteen to seventeenish, but I guess I was wrong, otherwise you’d be doing some kind of study. Oh, do you apprentice?”

His eyes narrow. “In a manner of speaking.”

I throw up my hands. “Seriously? Who decided we were playing twenty questions? If you’re going for the whole mysterious guy thing, then you’re failing.” I zip up my bag and stand.

He stares up at me in surprise.

“See you around.” I turn and trudge back into the woods, hoping that I’d headed in the right direction.

We’re standing in the musty room; Mary’s uncle’s old room. The window is open and yet the smell refuses to take a leap out the window.

Ann, ‘call me Annie’, is staring at the armoire. She has been here for less than fifteen minutes and it’s as if she has a rocket up her arse. I had to practically beg her to come upstairs.

“So, do you want it?” I ask. I don’t know why I’m showing it to her, it wasn’t on Mary’s list, but I hate it. There’s something ugly about it and the sooner it’s gone, the sooner I’ll feel better.

Annie moves toward it, reaches out to touch it and then curls her fingers into a fist. “Hawthorn wood, like the rest of the furniture, it’s a nice piece.” She doesn’t sound so enthusiastic.

“So, do you want it?”

She locks eyes with me. “No.”

I balk. “But you said it was a nice piece!”

“Did I?” She shrugs. “I really should get going. I’ll ask around for you about the armoire.”

“Er, okay.”

She is out the room and down the stairs as if she can’t wait to leave.

She checks off other items on her list and promises to send a van for collection the next day.

We are outside on the doorstep when she glances up at the spot above the doorframe.

“You should get a horseshoe,” she says.

“Sorry?”

“A horseshoe.”

I frown. “Is that a thing round here?”

She smiles tightly. “I guess you haven’t been down to Learmonth yet then?”

I shake my head. “We passed through on the way up, but that’s about it.”

She glances about. “It’s a lovely spot, isn’t it? And with the beach so close, it’s wonderful.”

“Yes, the kids are looking forward to the beach. I promised to take them down tomorrow.”

She nods. “Well, I’ll see you. Take care and get a horseshoe, even if it’s just for decoration, to fit in. Its good luck, and you have a lovely family.”

I watch her climb into her silver Vauxall Astra and drive away, gravel crunching loudly.

I glance up at the door. A horse shoe if we want to fit in. Okay, I add it to my list of things to do before stepping back into the house, but the item slips from memory as soon as my feet cross the threshold. It’s time to start on dinner and I did promise Mary that I’d run her a bath.

I massage shampoo into Mary’s hair. She has glorious hair, thick and dark. I love running my fingers through it, brushing it, dressing it.

Mary sighs and sinks lower into the bubbles. “You spoil me, you really do.”

“I know.”

“Did the woman come about the furniture?”

“Yep, all sorted. A van is picking up the pieces tomorrow, got a good price too. We should be able to put in that new kitchen you wanted.”

She tilts her head back and I lean forward and peck her on the lips. “I better go check on the chilli. See you down there.”

“Love you.”

“Love you too.”

I go into the bedroom first and find her pyjamas and slippers and lay them out on the bed. I love doing this, spoiling her. It makes me happy to see her smile. I never thought I’d feel this way about anyone, not after Nat. I thought Nat was the love of my life. Four years we were together and I did everything for her. Cooked, cleaned, managed the bills, and held back her hair so she could puke when she came back from a night out. She was a wild one, Nat, and it made me feel wild to be with her. Yet it soon wore thin. The drinking and the clubbing and the constant mess, and eventually the rose-tinted spectacles just fell off. I saw the relationship for what it was. I realised I was her bitch. I realised that she didn’t love me, not the way I loved her. I realised I was a comfort, someone to come home to, someone that would make it all better. So I left. It was hard at first, being alone, but after a couple of months it was like Nat had never existed. Then I met Mary. Newly divorced, sunny bright Mary with the perfect arse, and I knew I had to have her. Philip, my brother, introduced us. He thought Mary might be interested in my work, being an agent and all that. That’s exactly how he put it, and I could tell she wasn’t impressed. I didn’t know what to do but apologise. We talked about anything but my book and at the end of the evening she gave me her card. I called her the next day and she told me in no uncertain terms that she couldn’t sign me because she didn’t mix business with pleasure, but she could refer me to several agents that may be interested. Then she asked me out to dinner. The rest is history. Mary is everything that Nat is not. Mary doesn’t need me, she wants me, and that feels so good.

A chill climbs up my spine and I shudder, swimming out of my thoughts. I turn to the window. It’s firmly closed. I tell myself it’s an old house and old houses have strange drafts. I move to the door and step into something cold and wet. Glancing down I see a small puddle of water. I look up at the ceiling but it’s dry, and then I see the footstep; wet imprints on the dark floor. For a moment I think its Mary, that she’s slipped out of the bath without me hearing. But the footsteps are too small. My arms have broken out in goose bumps as I follow the footsteps to the bathroom. They stop just outside.

“Mary?”

No answer.

My heart is pounding real hard and I don’t know why. I reach for the doorknob. It’s wet. I panic and throw the door open. Mary is gone. No, she’s not gone. She’s still in the water… Under the water!

I rush forward, a scream trapped in my throat. I grab her by the hair and pull.

She comes up spluttering, thrashing.

“Mary? Oh, babe! Are you okay?”

She wipes at her face. “What the fuck, Jules?”

I stare at her uncomprehending.

She glares at me. “What did you do that for?

Realisation steals over me. “You didn’t fall asleep did you?”

“No! I was washing out the shampoo.”

We stare at each other. I can feel the sheepish look on my face and I watch as her annoyance melts. She shakes her head. “You Dodo.” She smiles, sniffs the air.

“The chilli!”

I rush down the stairs getting to the chilli just in time to save it from ruin.

It’s only much later when I’m setting the table that I remember the wet footprints.