Once Upon A Winter (23 page)

Nell
stood alone on the terrace, leaning against the iron railing, hardly registering the cold. Minutes ago she had been lost in the crowd while fireworks had lit up the night sky over the Common. To her they had been more redolent of distress flares than anything celebratory.

As relative silence descended again, Emma and Gareth had ushered the children back into the village hall, but Nell had stayed outdoors.

Waiting. 

If it hadn’t been for Freya and Joshua, she would have left the party ages ago. But they’d wanted to stay until midnight, savouring the thrill of welcoming in the New Year with their cousins and friends.

Tonight had started out so promisingly, but was ending on such a bad note. There had been no sign of Daniel since the run-in with Silas. He had simply vanished, and wasn’t answering his phone. Nell had tried calling several times and sent three texts, desperately trying to find out where he was. If she’d been driving tonight, she would have gone back to Bryn Heulog to see if he had returned to the Annexe.

It had been excruciating after he’d disappeared. Nell hated making a scene in public, and cringed whenever others did. To have found herself a principal player in the ultimate drama of the evening had been a nightmare.

Again, if it hadn’t been for the kids, she might have drowned her sorrows in alcohol for the first time in years. Tried desperately to blot out her embarrassment - and the memory of that last look Silas had given her, as if he’d been staring at a total stranger. But she’d paced herself, maintained her cool, pretended on the outside that she wasn’t screaming and falling apart.

It must have worked. Emma had hugged her at midnight and told Nell how proud she was of her.

‘For what?’ Nell had asked ashamedly.

‘For keeping it together. For standing your ground. And it’ll all work out, you’ll see. This time next year, you’ll look back and laugh.’

Cliché overdose. But Nell hoped fervently that her sister was right. As her gloved fingers gripped the railing, though, she couldn’t imagine ever laughing again.

People were starting to drift home in little clusters, the village hall’s main door flapping open intermittently to let out a burst of light and noise from the cloakroom. Nell stood to one side, in a little puddle of light cast by a security lamp overhead. As she shuffled sideways into the shadows, exhausted and distressed by the fact people were looking at her and then falling silent, she spotted a tall figure slinking towards her out of the darkness.

‘Daniel . . . ?’

His upturned face caught the light as he slowly climbed the side steps leading up to the terrace. Hands thrust deep into his overcoat pockets, he stopped a few yards away and regarded Nell sheepishly.

‘I’m sorry,’ he muttered, and she could hear the slight slur in his voice.

He’d been drinking, she realised. ‘Daniel, where have you been?’

‘The Leaping Stag. It was empty - practically - but the landlord still opens up. His wife comes here to the party, though.’

‘He can’t be happy losing business, tonight of all nights?’

Daniel shrugged. ‘He’s been open all day, and loads of people went there earlier who normally wouldn’t, before the party even started.’

‘Oh.’ Nell nodded, and took a deep breath. ‘Listen . . . Daniel -’

‘No.’ He took a step closer. ‘You have to listen to me first, Nell. I’m sorry.
Really
sorry for the way I acted. I was an idiot. I don’t know what got into me. I was just so . . .
angry
. Furious that he could turn up like that and spoil the night for you. But I’m not normally like that, Nell. Not the sort to be blinded by jealousy or anything. I don’t go round picking fights, or -’

‘I know.’ She took a step closer to him. ‘It’s all right. I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have let you walk away. What you said -’

‘But it was true.’ He frowned, slumping against the railing. ‘It
was
my fault. I was a moron twenty years ago. And the fact I hurt you . . .’

‘I thought we weren’t ever going to mention it again.’ With one more step, Nell reached his side. ‘And I can’t let you take all the blame for the way I am, because that wouldn’t be fair. It isn’t true. What you’ve done for me since, what you’re doing for me right now . . . That’s the only side of you I want to think about.’

Daniel let out a great heaving sigh, his beery breath misting in front of him. ‘But it’s
not
the only thing you’re thinking about - is it? You’ve got the weight of the world on you right now, and I’m not making it any easier. In spite of what I claimed at the outset, I
am
trying to complicate your life by insisting you have a relationship with me.’

Nell, who had been reaching up to touch his shoulder, let her hand drop limply to her side again. ‘You’re not insisting on anything, Daniel . . . It’s not as if you’re twisting my arm to go out with you.’

‘No. I know. But I did all the chasing at the start, didn’t I? I didn’t make it easy for you to turn me down. But things have changed since . . . since
he
came back. They were bound to. And I don’t want to get in the way.’

Nell reeled slightly. ‘In the way of what exactly?’

Daniel shrugged again. ‘Of a possible reconciliation.’

‘You - You
can’t be serious? You think Silas and I could ever . . .’ She shook her head incredulously. ‘Oh my God. Daniel
, no
. Even if he begged on his hands and knees, how could I go back to a man who did what he did to me? Something worse, so
much
worse, than you ever did. You can’t even compare the two things.’

‘But . . . you still care about him. I can tell.’

‘I don’t “care” about him!’

‘There’s something there . . . even if you won’t admit it.’

Nell straightened up, determined to remind herself of how she ought to feel. ‘All that’s there is a memory. A memory of the way I once felt about Silas. I won’t go on pretending it doesn’t exist. But it’s not how I actually think about him now. He takes me back to a different time in my life and the person I used to be. The coward. And I’m not going to let him win this. I’m
not.
’

‘What about Calista? All that stuff she said about Joshua, the implications of it, the way Silas might be involved -’

‘The complete and upper crap of it, you mean. Come on, Daniel. Now that Silas is here, in the flesh, I feel stupid for even contemplating half the things I did. I admit that Calista is a very strange woman, and she managed to plant some weird seeds in my head - and in yours, too - but that’s over with now, surely. We both need to wake up again.’ 

Daniel’s bloodshot eyes regarded her intently. ‘Really?’ His tone was hopeful now.

‘Really. Silas is nothing but a stumbling block in my life. But it’s something I have to put up with because of Freya and Joshua, and the fact that I’ll always be linked to him through them. But that’s
it.
And as for my family . . . Emma, and my dad - when he gets back - do you think
they’d
stand for anything more? They’d disown me. Or worse. They could never forgive Silas. Even if I ever did. Which I can’t. And maybe that doesn’t make any of us very charitable, but it makes us human. And loyal to one another. And -’

‘OK.’ Daniel whisked his hand out of his pocket, and pressed it against her face. It was cold as a corpse, and made her flinch, but she reached up and pressed her own gloved hand over it. ‘Fair enough,’ he went on, his voice swelling with emotion, spurred on by whatever he’d been drinking in the local pub. ‘I get it. But I still think that maybe we should step back from this. From Us. Just for a while,’ he went on hastily, cutting in on what she’d been about to retort, ‘until everything settles down again.’

‘But Daniel . . .’

‘I’ve just been through a divorce. I know what it’s like. If we’re too involved, Nell - you and I - then I
’ll have to live through another one. And I’m not sure I can.’

Nell caught her breath, her stomach plummeting. ‘So . . . you’re breaking up with me?’

‘No . . . Yes.’ Daniel frowned. ‘No. No, I’m not. I still want to see you. But I think we need to postpone our weekend away. I think we need to keep some sort of . . . emotional distance. For both our sakes.’

‘You mean, you need
your “space”?’

‘Not that old bullshit. No.’ Daniel shook his head adamantly. ‘I still want to be friends, more than friends, but just not the sort of couple I think we were on the point of becoming. Not yet. You need to keep a clear head right now, Nell. It’s the best gift I can give you. Even the simplest, most straightforward divorce is never easy.’ 

Nell blinked up at him for a moment or two. Ice tingled down her spine - a sliver of apprehension. She knew why, but she brushed it away.

‘Does alcohol always make yo
u this lucid?’ she asked, injecting a lightness in her voice that wasn’t within her. Far from it.

‘Yes.’

‘And you’re going to remember saying all this in the morning?’

‘Unfortunately, I am. I’m not
mullered enough not to.’

‘But are you still going to help me get the kids home tonight? It’ll be hell. I’m
regretting walking now. That last stretch is so dark, even with that pocket torch you brought along.’

‘Everyone in the village walks tonight. You’d have been a leper if you brought your car.’

Or caused a scene involving the beloved Daniel Guthrie, thought Nell grimly. Which she had.

‘Of course I’m walking you and the kids home,’ he said. ‘I’m going in the same direction, aren’t I?’

‘The adrenaline that’s been making them hyper will suddenly stop pumping,’ warned Nell. ‘They’ll mutate into two giant, bolshie rag-dolls.’

‘Nell . . .’ He clutched
her hand earnestly. ‘I’m still here for you whenever you need me. Your right-hand man. Your best amigo. Your sidekick.’

Nell smiled, even as she wanted to weep. ‘Fine. But don’t say I didn’t warn you when Freya d
emands you carry her piggy-back.’

Dense grey clouds sagged in the sky. Silas stared out from an upstairs window of the old cottage, frowning at the rooftop of the much larger white house, further up the hill. The slate grey tiles and the three chimneys of Bryn Heulog were all that was visible above the trees from this vantage point.

He turned back to the room he stood in. The largest of the bedrooms had been divided into two, making three bedrooms in total, huddled around a compact bathroom and a small square landing. This would be the master bedroom now. Empty and bare at the moment, it would be for a while still, but Silas could already envisage the cupboards he would build into the awkward spaces created by the gable window and sloping roof.

All this was buying him time. Time to create. To work with his hands as he so loved to do and craft something aesthetically pleasing, yet useful, from the simple, reclaimed timber he had stocked up on. Time to let his mind breathe and stretch itself.

Tomorrow - Saturday - he would be spending a day out with the children. The first, officially; although not on hi
s own. Ellena had insisted on being there.

Silas was nervous. Unsure. After his encounter alone with Freya, his composure had been even more shaken. This wasn’t a child in need of saving. A child who would come to view him as some kind of rescuer. This girl was already biased against him in the worst possible way, and understandably so. Silas had turned his back on her when she was two years old.

It didn’t matter, he supposed, that she couldn’t have much of a recollection of him. The fact remained that he was her father, but had forsaken that duty for various reasons she might never comprehend. He wondered if it mattered to her that he had provided financial help for her mother over the years. Then again, his daughter was still young; Ellena might not even have made her aware of the fact.

As for Joshua . . . Silas felt cal
m with respect to him. Joshua was part of Silas in a way Freya never could be. There was a saying, ‘chip off the old block’ that was entirely valid in this case.

Silas had called
Ellena to arrange this outing with the children, rather than approach her face to face. If he was honest, it was meeting up with Ellena again that had him most on edge. There was something alarming about the butterfly that had emerged from that particular chrysalis. Its wings unexpectedly vivid. And yet, a fragile beauty. The sort that had no notion of how naturally alluring it was and might fly headlong into dangerous, uncharted territory.

Silas had no doubt that Daniel Guthrie was a good man. His loyalty to
Ellena had been admirable the other night. Yet there was a weakness, aside from the fear within Daniel, that Silas hadn’t had time to identify. Everyone had an esoteric flaw or two; but it was the impact that Daniel’s might have on Ellena and the children that concerned Silas. He would need to delve deeper, to be sure.

There was a murmur of a car engine, and S
ilas put down his tools and headed for the stairs. Outside, Huw Willis climbed out of his car. A quiet soul, who loathed confrontation. Silas was counting on this.

‘Hello,
Huw.’

‘S
i.’ The older man nodded sombrely. ‘Or should I call you Silas?’

‘Whatever. It’s not relevant. I’m glad you came. I need to explain -’

But Huw held up his hand. ‘I don’t really want to hear it. If it wasn’t for Nell, you would have been out of here by now. But she pleaded your case. Not that I think you deserve it. She explained about the divorce, and the effect my firing you might have on the children. If I turf you out now - if I tell John Mason about all this - what happens then? Where will you go? Straight out of those kiddies’ lives again?’

Silas said nothing. He merely waited for
Huw to finish what he had to say.

Huw
shook his head, clearly torn. ‘I’ve had a while to think about this, and I’ve realised it’s up to Nell. Not me, or her sister, or even you. She’s living at Bryn Heulog, and she’s an adult, she’s more than capable of making decisions about this cottage while John’s away. I’m warning you, though, if your work from now on isn’t up to standard -’

Huw
was interrupted by the sound of another car approaching, rumbling up the narrow track and then emerging from the trees and shrubbery into the clearing. Perturbed, he scratched his near-bald head.

Silas, too, was surprised and thrown. He hadn’t been expecting anyone else, let alone the woman who climbed out of the silver Mini Cooper, which had rolled to a standstill alongside
Huw’s car.

‘Er . . . hello,’ she said, with a vague frown. ‘I think I might have got a little lost . . .’

She was tall, with very long, straight blonde hair. Even in a black leather coat and knee-high boots, her figure was more than evident. Silas and Huw both stared mutely as she approached, flicking back her waterfall of golden hair and gathering her poise with every step.

‘Hello,’ she said again. ‘I’m sorry, I took the turning for Bryn
Heulog - or, at least, I thought I did. When I saw a car in the distance I just followed it.’

‘Ah,’ said
Huw, at last, still scratching his head, ‘that must have been mine. You took the right lane, but you branched off too soon. This is still John Mason’s land, though, so you’re not far off.’

She glanced up at the cottage. ‘I knew this couldn’t be right. Bryn
Heulog’s rather different when you’re looking up from the village. And this little place is too tucked away.’ She smiled at Huw, then cast a longer, more interested look towards Silas. ‘I feel a bit like Goldilocks, lost in the woods,’ she said, and shrugged with amusement.

Silas smiled politely. With hair like that, she could well pass for a grown-up version.

‘I’m just wondering which of the three bears you might be?’ Head tilted to one side and her gaze still pinned on Silas, her smile became something more.

‘Ahem,’
Huw coughed. ‘Well, um, I was leaving anyway, so if you want to follow, I can point you in the right direction.’ He walked back towards his car. ‘Paying a visit on Nell, are you?’

‘Er, no.’ The woman turned briskly to
Huw, as if pulling herself out of a trance. ‘Daniel. I’m his -’

‘Oh, yes.’
Huw narrowed his eyes in recognition. ‘I’m sorry - it’s Lauren, isn’t it?’

‘Lauren Guthrie, yes. I’m sorry, I’m not good with names, but I do know your face . . .’

‘Huw Willis. I’m Emma and Gareth Hayes’ neighbour.’

‘Oh . . . yes.’ Her smile faltered, but only momentarily. ‘Listen, don’t let me keep you, I remember where the lane branched off, so I’ll just backtrack and find my own way up to the house.’ 

‘Well, if you’re sure . . .’ Huw climbed into his car, gave Silas a cautionary look, nodded one last time at Lauren Guthrie and reversed into a clear spot in front of the cottage before driving straight out of the clearing. The car engine faded away.

The woman made no move to leave.

‘Are you Daniel’s sister?’ Silas asked, studying her reactions closely.

She shook her head. ‘Guthrie’s my name by marriage. Daniel’s my ex-husband.’

‘I see,’ said Silas, after a pause.

‘I’ve got the day off work and I’ve been doing a bit of an attic clear-out. I’ve got a couple of boxes of Daniel’s s
tuff and I thought I’d drop them off. I know term hasn’t started yet, so I was hoping he’d be up at the Annexe. He isn’t expecting me, and I’ve never actually been up there before . . .’ She stared back quite openly at Silas. ‘Do you live here?’ she asked curiously, gesturing to the cottage. ‘Do you know Daniel?’

‘The cottage is under renovation. I’m only staying here while I’m working on it.’ He hesitated. ‘I’ve only met Daniel the once.’

‘I didn’t think you were from these parts. I’ve never seen you around before. I would have remembered. Not that I spend much time in the village,’ she added. ‘Anyway, I’m sorry.’ She held out her hand. ‘I didn’t catch your name . . . ?’

‘Silas. Silas Jones.’ He shook her hand. ‘I’m passing through for a while, that’s all.’

‘So, where’s “home” then exactly?’

‘Wherever I decide it ought to be at the time.’

‘Really?’ She seemed fascinated. ‘So, there isn’t a
Mrs
Jones then?’

Silas hesitated again. ‘There was,’ he admitted, ‘but we’ve been separated for years.’

‘Oh . . . I’m sorry to hear that.’ Lauren Guthrie obviously wasn’t. ‘Well - would you be interested in going out for a drink sometime, Silas? If you’re feeling a bit lonely here in Harreloe on your own, I know a cosy little pub just a few miles down the road . . .’

He offered her his best enigmatic smile. The one reserved for women like her, who knew what they wanted and went after it without regretting their hung
er or their ambition, or apologising for it. He usually kept away from their kind. They didn’t need his help, or at least not the sort he was willing to give. But this one was different. She had instantly intrigued him.

‘Can I ask,’ he broached guardedly, ‘was your maiden name Harding?’

She seemed taken aback. ‘Er - yes. Yes, it was . . .’

‘My wife spoke about you, when she told me about her time at school.’

‘Your wife?’ Lauren Guthrie looked even more thrown. ‘Do I know her?’

‘
Ellena Jones. Her maiden name was Mason . . . You probably knew her as Nell.’

The woman formed an ‘O’ shape with her mouth, and gestured around her. ‘Nell
Mason, as in John Mason’s daughter? The same Mason family who own Bryn Heulog?’

Silas nodded. ‘Do you remember her?’

Lauren put her hands on her hips, in what seemed to Silas to be a defensive stance. ‘Sort of. Daniel mentioned her a few weeks back, and it’s been coming back to me . . . But . . .’ She wrinkled her brow. ‘I thought Daniel said her husband wasn’t around? I mean, not dead, but -’

‘I wasn’t around at that point. Not here in Harreloe, at least.’

‘Right.’ Lauren bit her lip. ‘Well, this is awkward.’

‘Is it?’

‘I was under the impression that my ex-husband and your wife were seeing each other.’

‘Is that a problem for you?’

‘For me? Of course not! What Daniel does is his own business. It’s just . . . why are you suddenly on the scene again yourself?’

Silas rubbed his hands against the sides of his jeans, forming a rational answer in his head first. ‘To get to know the children. To help
Ellena with the divorce. My reasons for being here aren’t really that complicated.’

‘OK.’ Lauren nodded slowly, staring at him again in that open, brazen
way. ‘So . . . you’d still be up for a drink sometime?’

‘I would, if you still want to.’ Silas
dug in his back pocket for his phone. ‘Let me take your number, Lauren, and I’ll give you mine.’

She whipped her o
wn mobile out of her coat. ‘My pleasure.’ She grinned. A bleached white smile. ‘You know, Silas, I don’t regret going the wrong way just now. Not one bit.’

He wanted to tell her that it was most likely fate. The act of getting lost was sometimes simply so that someone could find you. But that was too much, too full-on, to say to someone you had only just met. It would sound like a chat-up line, when in reality it was a basic truth.

And something told Silas that this woman - attractive, direct, hedonistic and self-absorbed - had actually been lost for years.

Not just today.