Once Upon A Winter (5 page)

‘Marriage, though - it’s a big leap. It’s not as if Yvette and I have even lived together . . .’

‘Well, Nana Gwen would never sanction that, would she?’ smirked Nell. ‘But this trip - spending every day together for four months - you and Yvette will be sick of the sight of each other by the time you get back. The perfect start to a happy marriage.’

‘I wish to God you didn’t sound so cynical.’ Her father took a gulp of whisky. ‘Not you.’

‘If not me, than who? Who would you wish my life on - the part of my life where my husband walked out on me and our kids?’

Her dad remained silent.

‘I’m sorry.’ Nell wriggled in the armchair. ‘It’ll be different for you and Yvette. It was different for you and Mum. I know there are good marriages out there, but at the back of my mind, I think I always knew mine wasn’t one of them. I thought we were happy, but it was all one-sided. You were right to disapprove and say he was a bit too old for me. Too sophisticated. I was too immature to get married, and I’ll never know why someone like him picked someone like me, but -’

‘Someone like you?’ Her dad shook his head vehemently. ‘Why do you always put yourself down,
Ellena? That man was bloody lucky to have you. I don’t care about all the rest - what he looked like, or his job, or his flash car, or the way he dressed. He was lucky to have
you.
But he couldn’t see it, could he? Fatherhood and all that responsibility, it must have got to him. He just couldn’t act his age. And you - you should have pursued it. You let him get away with it. You -’

‘OK. Fine. But it’s hard to track down someone who’s dropped off the face of the earth.’ Nell didn’t want to talk about this tonight. She rarely spoke of it at all. Discussing it meant she might slip up and diverge from the story she’d fobbed people off with for years, including her own family.

‘I’m glad you’ve come home, Ellena,’ said her father, a moment later, his voice soft and warm, with no edge to it now. ‘I just wish it was under different circumstances.’

‘Because I’m caring for Nana? Dad, it was my decision, my suggestion to come up here to help, you know it was. In a way, it’s panned out best for me. I mean, I’m sorry
for poor Edith, having to go into a nursing home. But having Nana back here works out. I wasn’t going to let you and Yvette cancel that trip. You’ve been dreaming about it for years.’

Edith Harris had been Nana’s closest friend since the Second World War, when they
’d served as Land Girls together. After Edith had been widowed, Nana had gone to Cumbria to keep her company; a ‘visit’ that had been extended up until the point when the sprightly Edith had been diagnosed with congestive heart failure, and could no longer take care of herself or her friend. Nana wasn’t so agile either; cursed with arthritis and in almost constant pain. Suddenly, she had been desperate to come home, pining for Harreloe and Bryn Heulog, as if she knew it was time to return to the bosom of her family. To the place where she always said her life began.

Nell knew the feeling, too. She had experienced the call herself recently. Like a homing beacon.

‘It was the right time to leave London,’ Nell went on. ‘I wasn’t happy with the way things were. I was bored with my job, stressed having to cope on my own, and the school Joshua and Freya were going to . . . it was inadequate, basically. They didn’t know how to handle Joshua there, or the other kids’ reactions to him.’

Nell leaned across, and
rested a hand on her father’s arm. ‘We really needed a fresh start, Dad. And I’m glad it’s here. I’m grateful for this chance, I want you to know that. I don’t see looking after Nana as a burden. I’d do it even if you weren’t paying me. I half wish you weren’t, but I’m not brainless enough that I don’t consider this employment, too. When you and Yvette get back, we’ll take things from there. I can look around for another job, maybe, something to fit in during school hours. Or, if you still need me to take care of Nana, I can do that, too. I’m just glad to have this roof over our heads.’

‘You’ll always have that here,’ said her father, swilling amber liquid around his glass. ‘My concern is - if you’re taking care of your grandmother, as well as Joshua and Freya, then who’s going to be looking after
you
? Will you take time out to look after yourself? And if you don’t, will anyone even notice?’

‘I
will
look after myself, Dad. And you know Emma’s going to be keeping an eye on me. She can never resist playing the big sister card.’

‘I
t’s not just that . . .’ He shifted awkwardly in the armchair. ‘You
deserve
someone to take care of you. You deserve -’

‘A man, you mean?’ Nell stiffened, as if someone had shoved a rod down her back. ‘I had a man once, remember?’

‘Yes, but . . . Ellena, love, have you even dated since he left? Even just had a drink with someone? Anyone?’

‘Anyone male?’ Nell shook her head. ‘If you don’t count Abe Golding, who was like a grandfather to me, then no. Dad, you’ve forgotten, I’m not actually divorced. I don’t feel . . . single.’

Her father grimaced, as if his whisky tasted sour. ‘I’m not going to get into an argument about this tonight. I don’t want to go on this trip knowing we’re not the best of friends. My solicitor could have sorted all this out for you by now, but if you’re still not ready . . .’ He shrugged. ‘Like I said, I don’t want a row.’

Nell felt the knot in her stomach slowly unwind with relief. The last thing she wanted was an argument herself. They would only go round and round in circles, without resolving anything.

‘Dad,’ Nell broached, trying to change the subject, and then wondering if she was actually digressing that much at all, ‘why did you rent out the Annexe to Daniel Guthrie? It wasn’t for the money, surely.’

‘No, money wasn’t the issue. Not for me, anyhow. I only charge Daniel a basic rent. Just enough so that he doesn’t feel he’s taking liberties. He’s proud. Stubborn. He wouldn’t want to be considered a charity case.’

‘Yes, but, why?
Why
should he be a charity case? And why didn’t you tell me about it?’

‘Emma said not to,’ answered her father briskly. ‘Because of all that daftness in the past, which I told her you were well over. Teenage games, that’s all it amounted to. Cruel and senseless and not worth dwelling on, because people grow up. They change.’

‘Do they?’

‘Yes.’ He faced her squarely. ‘Look in the mirror,
Ellena. You’re not the same girl you were back then. You’re not even the same girl you were seven years ago. And I don’t just mean outwardly.’

She clenched her jaw, and gave an obstinate tug on the bottom of her jumper. ‘OK. Point taken. But you still haven’t said what Daniel Guthrie’s problem is? He’s Deputy
Head at Harreloe Primary. Why does he need charity?’

‘Maybe not charity, as such. Just a helping hand. Some friends around him.’ Her father hesitated. ‘He’s just gone through a divorce, and although I know it wasn’t acrimonious, as such, he’s still having a hard time of it.’

‘Oh . . .’

‘He’d been with Lauren for years,’ her father went on. ‘Well, you know that. Anyway, I used to treat their cat. It was only ever Daniel who brought him in, that’s how I got to know him. Daniel, not the cat. And then of course, the fact he’s friends with Emma and Gareth . . . Well, it made sense to rent the Annexe out to him. Just for now, till he gets back on his feet again.’

‘He’s friends with Emma and Gareth?’ Nell echoed, taken aback, and smarting with something close to betrayal, however out-of-proportion it might have seemed to anyone else. ‘Emma’s never mentioned him. I meant to speak to her before, but she was out shopping when I dropped the girls back. I’ve been too busy unpacking the rest of the day . . .’ Nell took a deep breath. ‘So - was she friends with Lauren as well?’

‘Emma was never friends with Lauren, as such. More Daniel. Lauren has always been . . . How can I put it . . . ?’

‘A total bitch?’ offered Nell helpfully. ‘I take it
she
hasn’t changed that much?’

Her father’s silence only confirmed Nell’s suspicions, because he never spoke unkindly of anyone if he could help it. 

‘Mum?’ A drowsy voice sounded from the hall.

Nell jumped with surprise, and then sprang to her feet, instantly alert. ‘Josh? I’m in here - in Grandpa’s den . . .’

The door was pushed open completely. Joshua stood there, rubbing his eyes. ‘I was asleep, and then I wasn’t. And now I can’t get back off. And my bed’s wet.’

Nell glanced with dismay at the dark patch on his pyjamas. ‘You went to the loo before bed, didn’t you?’

He nodded. ‘Yes, but I drank cola when we were making the lasagne.’

‘It was decaffeinated,’ said his grandfather quickly, ‘and sugar-free. I thought it would be fine . . .’

Nell sighed. ‘He’s best sticking to just water, or juice, if it’s not too late. Fizzy drinks haven’t agreed with him recently. It’s OK, Dad, you weren’t to know.’

It was no good adding that Joshua should know better. It was impossible to predict what he was aware of or not. Nell was rarely sure of anything about him, except that he didn’t seem to have a vicious bone in his body. And, more importantly to Nell, that he loved her. It was an absolute she clung to, the boy who looked so much like her husband, loving her with a devotion she knew her husband had never felt for her.

‘Come on, Josh, let’s get you sorted.’ She put an arm around his thin shoulders. ‘You could only have been asleep a little while.’   

‘It felt like
ages
,’ said the boy, and yawned. ‘It’s weird having my own room. I don’t think I like it. I used to like listening to Freya breathing. She even snored when she had a cold sometimes.’

‘You’ll get used to it after a few nights. I can leave a small nightlight on, if that helps?’

‘Can you get one that makes breathing noises?’ asked Joshua, as Nell led him across the parquet-floored hall towards the stairs. ‘Or maybe one that snores?’ he added hopefully. ‘Do they sell those?’

Nell looked back over her shoulder, sensing her father following. ‘It’s OK, Dad, I can deal with this. Do you mind if I put the washing machine on, or will it disturb you so late?’

‘It’s not that late. And out in the utility room it won’t affect anyone.’ He frowned, perturbed. ‘Are you sure you don’t want help, love?’

‘No,’ said Nell purposefully. ‘I can handle it on my own.’

In a matter of days, her father wouldn’t be around. She might as well get some practice in.

‘Emma! Emma -’ Daniel groaned as an eight-year-old boy buffeted him in the ribs, distracting him briefly. ‘Luke Watts, watch out! You know better than to run inside.’

‘Yes, Mr Guthrie. Sorry, Mr Guthrie.’ Luke Watts grinned up at him and shoved past, weighed down with PE kit, lunch bag, book bag and a black Nike rucksack that was probably empty, but looked cool.

Daniel adjusted his tie, and poked his head around the Juniors’ entrance door again. Emma Hayes was just across the front school yard, saying goodbye to Rose and Ivy and attempting to control the fuzzy little mutt that had knocked Daniel over the other day.

Daniel raised a hand, trying to attract her attention. ‘Emma!’

She lifted her head, then waved.

‘Can I have
a quick word?’ he called. ‘It won’t take long, but I’m on door duty, so . . .’

‘Oh, OK.’ She handed the lead to Ivy, and hurried over to Daniel. ‘Something wrong?’

‘Er, no. Well . . .’ Daniel frowned, realising that he didn’t want any lurking parents to overhear, or any of the children jostling past him into the narrow school corridor that widened into the cloakroom. ‘It’s just, something happened on Saturday morning,’ he broached tentatively, ‘and I wasn’t really sure what to make of it . . .’

Emma, her tawny hair a ripple of waves around her delicately freckled face, smiled with that impish look reserved for friends and family. ‘You’re going to sue me, aren’t you?’

‘Sue you?’

‘For Truffle knocking you over. I did text and ask how you were the minute Rose and Ivy told me what happened.’

‘Oh. That. No . . .’ Daniel smiled, then tensed again. ‘I meant your sister. She was there, too.’

‘Yes. I heard. I’ve been doing my best to avoid her since.’ Emma’s pretty features crumpled into something resembling frustration. ‘What’s she done now?’

‘Well, she seemed’ - how could he put it? - ‘off with me somehow . . .’ That sounded pathetic.
Well done, Dan. Round of applause.

‘I can’t say I’m surprised,’ said Emma grimly. ‘Although I really hoped she’d behave like an adult. It was
nearly twenty years ago, after all.’

Daniel shook his head, feeling even
more confused. ‘What was twenty years ago?’

Emma glanced around, almost furtively, catching the eye of Mrs Watts, Luke’s mother, w
ho was still lingering close by, taking an inordinately long time reclining her toddler’s buggy.

‘
Listen.’ Emma turned back to Daniel. ‘Come have dinner with Gareth, me and the girls tonight. It’s nothing fancy, but we’ll talk afterwards. That’s if you’re free?’

Daniel grunted, knowing his curiosity was so stirred he would have cancelled virtually any plans just to hear what Emma couldn’t reveal right now, in public. Not that he’d had any plans beyond a ready-me
al for one and a night on the Xbox.

‘
I’m as free as they come. I’ve got the dullest life in Harreloe,’ he added in a low murmur.

‘Come over around six then.’ Emma smiled again, but darkly this time. ‘Your life’s abo
ut to get a little more interesting.’ And with that last intriguing sound-bite, she returned to her daughters and took over the small dog’s lead.

Daniel frowned
after her, mute, even as Molly Carr, with the cute pigtails, stepped on his toe and forgot to apologise.

*

‘Why don’t I herd the girls to bed?’ offered Gareth. ‘And you and Dan take the dog for a walk?’

Emma looked up from loading the dishwasher. ‘Are you sure?’

Daniel drained the last of his coffee, and glanced from husband to wife, attempting - as he had all evening - to batten down his impatience.

Gareth had been crabby all through dinner; Emma had been talking too much to compensate, and Ivy and Rose had bickered childishly about petty things, such as who liked their mum’s cooking most. All the while, Daniel had been trying not to demand,
‘
Emma, why is your sister annoyed with me? Can’t you just tell me
now
.’ Instead of casually chatting about school, or the weather, or his plans to go to Italy for Christmas.

Daniel didn’t have a thick skin these days. He felt disconcerted knowing someone had a problem with him, especially if he didn’t know the reason.

‘The walls have ears in this house,’ added Gareth gruffly, nodding his head towards the lounge, where his daughters were watching TV and indulging in another squabble. ‘Best get out of here if you’re going to discuss Nell.’

Emma turned to Daniel. ‘Are you up for it?’

He scraped back his chair. ‘Fine by me.’

‘Let me get Truffle’s lead then . . .’

A few minutes later, Daniel and Emma stepped out of the old, converted blacksmith’s cottage, Truffle tugging eagerly at his restraint. They walked down the traditional garden path to the picket fence. The sort of idyll Daniel used to envisage for Lauren and himself, before that small, executive estate had been built on the east side of Harreloe and Lauren had fallen head over heels for a new-build with an en-suite spa bath.

It was a mild night; a blanket of cloud-cover hiding the stars and insulating the earth. Only a weak, waning moon poked out from behind a tufty rim of grey-black cloud, scarcely casting any light.

Emma turned left up the lane, towards the village and away from the hedgerow that trailed off into the blackness. They would need the streetlamps of Harreloe to guide their way, even though Truffle looked as if he would rather go for a romp on Farmer Pike’s land.

‘Here, boy!’ called Emma
. ‘This way, Truffle. We’ll go to the Common. You like that, don’t you, boy?’

‘Does he understand?’ Daniel couldn’t help smiling
.

‘Ducks!’ said Emma, in a shrill voice, and Truffle immediately started yapping and leading the way eagerly in the direction of the triangular-shaped village green. ‘He likes chasing them ar
ound the pond. I’ll have to keep him on his lead, or he’ll wreak havoc. They’ll be asleep, won’t they? The ducks.’

‘I suppose,’ said Daniel, adjusting his scarf, even though it wasn’t that cold. ‘Emma, what did you mean before, abo
ut my life getting more interesting? And all that other stuff, about your sister, and -’

‘You really don’t remember - do you? I don’t know whether that’s a good thing, or really bad.’

‘What?’ He frowned. ‘Why are you being so cryptic, Em?’

‘Well, on the one hand, you might have just blanked it out because you’re a decent
person now and you’re trying to put your past behind you. On the other, you might have forgotten because it meant so little to you, and you don’t care what effect it had on Nell.’

‘Oh, bloody hell,’ snapped Daniel, exasperated. ‘I think you’ve got me mixed up with someone else! I never had anything to do with your sister. I didn’t even recognise
her when we met the other day.’ Emma didn’t respond to this, infuriating him even further. ‘I know I was different back then,’ he floundered on. ‘More . . . selfish, I guess. But -’

‘You were Mr Popular,’ said Emma abruptly. ‘Mr Big. You lorded it over the rest of us at St Cecil’s as if we were your underlings. And I suppose, your dad used to “donate” so much to the school, on top of all the fees, you probably thought we were.’

Daniel took a deep breath. ‘No one’s going to let me forget all that, are they?’

‘I was a year ahead of you, Daniel, but even I felt it. It wasn’t a huge place.’

About twenty minutes bus ride from Harreloe, St Cecil’s was an old, eminent school that had started life as St Cecilius’s Seminary. The name had been anglicised along the way, and the seminary sold and turned into a public day school in the 1850s. Originally for boys, it had opened its doors to girls over a century later. Daniel’s father had been Head Boy there once, and Daniel had done his best to live up to the hype and follow in his father’s footsteps.

‘Nell was in my form, I vaguely remember,’ he told Emma now. ‘But I didn’t have much to do with her.’

‘A moment ago, you didn’t have
anything
to do with her,’ said Emma, and Daniel was shaken by the trace of bitterness he detected. ‘So,’ she challenged, ‘which is it?’

Daniel shook his head, almost in despair. ‘I don’t know,’ he said honestly. ‘Why don’t you tell me?’

‘OK,’ said Emma slowly, ‘it started with the fact that my sister used to have a massive crush on you, as did about a third - if not more - of the population of St Cecil’s. Lauren found out. She got hold of Nell’s diary somehow and read all about it.’

‘Oh, bugger,’ said Daniel, trying to dredge through his memories, yet at the same time dreading what he might stir up.

‘Some of this is hearsay,’ Emma continued, ‘and you know how things get exaggerated, but it seems as if she came up with some elaborate scheme to humiliate Nell.’

Daniel felt as if he was putting one foot in front of the other without knowing where he was going. Right, left, right, left. Trudging up the lane on autopilot.

‘That sounds like an exaggeration in itself,’ he muttered eventually.

‘Well, maybe it is,’ said Emma, ‘but that’s how it seemed. She got you to ask Nell out.’

‘
What
?’

‘You really don’t know what I’m talking about, do you? Nell was sixteen. You both were. And you were together for geography. Somehow you got yourself partnered with her on some field trip. You paid loads of attention to her, pretended she was really witty and funny.’

‘How does she know I was pretending?’ countered Daniel. ‘Maybe she
was
witty. And funny. Why would anyone think she wasn’t?’

‘Because . . . my sister was quiet. Introverted. Mum had died a couple of years before, and it affected Nell more than anyone. You see, when Nell hit puberty full-on, around twelve, she started putting on weight, and she had problem skin and greasy hair. But Mum always had the knack of getting through to her, of making her feel better about herself. The thing was, I seemed to sail through adolescence without any of the problems Nell had, so that only made her feel worse. I didn’t rub her nose in it, but I might as well have done.

‘When Mum died . . .’ Emma hesitated ‘. . . well, Nell’s confidence plummeted as low as it could get. She had major issues. Went completely the other way. Lost
too much
weight, eating like a sparrow. We got help for her. Dr Griffiths was great about it. And finally we had her eating healthily again. In time, all her other problems cleared up, too, and I thought things might improve for her, but it was too late . . . She’d become this insignificant little wisp. Like a shadow, or a ghost. Moving through life, but only half-visible, half-noticed. Especially by boys.’

‘I - ’ Daniel shrugged helplessly, at a loss for words that might aid his defence, but realising in that moment that he didn’t want to defend himself.
Not if he was guilty.

They had reached Harreloe Common, AKA the village green, with the duck pond in one corner and the small children’s playground in another. Straight ahead
, past a short line of benches, was the pub. The Leaping Stag. Yellow light beckoned through the mullioned windows, and Daniel felt a tug of longing for the chair beside the inglenook fireplace and the undemanding companionship of the landlord and his wife.

All this was too daunting, too stark for this time of night. He shoved his hands in his pockets and exhaled sharply, turning away from the pub and frowning towards the
little row of shops beyond the playground while Emma scooped up Truffle’s business and disposed of it in the nearest dog-litter bin.

When she was done, she turned back to Daniel, and he had no choice but
to face up to his past, because he couldn’t detach the man he was now from the boy he’d been then.

‘
I don’t know what to say, Em. I was different in those days.’

‘So you keep reminding me. And look, I know that as well as anyone. Gareth and I can honestly say you’re one of our best friends. I’d never have dreamed of being mates with the douche bag you used to be at St Cecil’s.’

‘So what happened? After that geography field trip? You said I asked Nell out.’

‘It was in your serial dating days, before the sixth form when you got serious with Lauren.’

‘Everyone was serial dating back then.’

Emma tightened Truffle’s lead, as he yapped dementedly and strained in the direction of the pond. ‘Nell wasn’t. She never has.’

‘OK.’ Daniel frowned. ‘Fine. So go on.’

‘You asked her out to the cinema. The first time anyone ever asked her out. But she never told me, or Dad or Nana. If I’d known she was meeting you - not going to the library to study, as she said she was - I wouldn’t have let her go, never in a million years. It must have taken so much courage, knowing Nell. But she was so infatuated with you, she would have been walking on air, too. It was only a Saturday afternoon, she caught the bus. But when she arrived, you weren’t there. It was just Lauren and her posse, and they thought it was hilarious. The best joke ever.’

Daniel roughly yanked a hand through his knotted mop of hair, like a penitential act, as if the pain could chisel away a tiny portion of guilt. ‘What . . . ? Where - ? What did
I
do next? What happened at school?’