He remembered that haunted, hunted look she had had the last time they spoke, when she had taken the final box of her possessions away. He needed to leave her alone now.
‘Everything will be just fine.’ Mick raised his glass to his lips and emptied it. ‘Come on, let’s have another. Then you can cheer me up by telling me how you’re not getting on with that flat of yours. You know, the girls have done up a whole house in the time it’s taken you to paint one room.’
‘Two rooms. And they’re paying people to do most of the work at Ladybank Row. Entirely different.’
Steve finished his own drink and handed over the glass, evidently deciding it was no point in discussing Lara any more. Even he must be able to see that Mick would never be good enough for her, and that episode was best left in the past.
‘What are you doing?’ said Alex. She must have been surprised to see Lara with her laptop out. Lara was surprised herself.
‘Tidying up my CV.’
Alex looked at her for a long time, frowning. ‘For that job?’ she said eventually. ‘You’re going to apply for it?’
‘I’m not sure.’ Lara sighed. She didn’t know what had decided her to start work on her CV. ‘I might.’
‘Your mum and dad will be pleased,’ said Alex.
‘Hmm.’ Lara could think of someone who wouldn’t be, but this was nothing to do with Mick. Actually, he probably wouldn’t even be interested. He’d made no effort to contact them since they’d moved here. Which was exactly what Lara had hoped for, so she didn’t know why she minded. Clearly he didn’t even want to be just friends, never mind anything else.
She went back to her typing. She probably wouldn’t get the job, but it would stop Mr McIntyre nagging if she applied. And it gave her something to do. The idea of going for promotion no longer filled her with a sick dread. It didn’t excite her either, but she supposed she could give it a go.
Then she would finish off her preparations for the new term. And she and Alex still had lots to do at Ladybank Row. It was going to be fun. Surely soon she would rediscover her appetite for life?
But the feeling of gloom continued to hang over her. She realised she was dreading the staff meeting tomorrow, the first day of term. Mick would be there and she had no idea how she would react to seeing him again.
Part of her wanted desperately to see him, in the same way she kept going over memories of time spent with him, worrying at them like a sore tooth. Maybe once the first meeting was over everything would be back to normal. Maybe none of the other staff would ask any questions, the kids wouldn’t giggle and insinuate. Pigs might fly.
It took her so long to decide what to wear that, for the first time since she had started work, she arrived late. Thank goodness this was a non-pupil day. She was going to have to get her act together tomorrow. She pulled the linen jacket tightly around her shoulders and tried not to meet the eyes of all the people who turned to stare at her.
‘Not like you to be the last one here,’ said Maggie Jones, the Home Economics teacher. She shifted slightly to make space for Lara. ‘Even Mick Jensen arrived on time …’
Lara kept her eyes on Mr McIntyre. ‘I’m not very late,’ she said, recognising his introductory pep talk from previous occasions. ‘Better shush, he’s glaring at us.’
Lara tried her best to concentrate on proceedings, but no matter how hard she focussed on Mr McIntyre, her eyes kept treacherously sweeping the room, desperate to glimpse a wild blond head. It took her nearly the whole meeting to spot him. He wasn’t slouched in his normal seat beside Sandy Woods. But the main reason she hadn’t seen him was because he looked so un-Mick-like. He had had his hair cut. Not the vague trim he had had before, but a shearing so severe all the blond had gone, along with the curls. And he was wearing proper trousers instead of a tracksuit. True, his shirt was open-necked but he looked so like a normal teacher he had blended right in.
Lara swallowed quickly. Why on earth had he cut that wonderful hair? She didn’t understand what he was up to.
As the meeting ended she headed straight over to him. It was best to get this over with, wasn’t it?
‘Hi there,’ she said quickly. ‘I didn’t recognise you. New look.’
Sandy Woods smiled. ‘He looks like a shaved rat. Now we know why he kept it so long – to hide that ugly face of his.’
Mick smiled faintly. Lara didn’t think his face was ugly, even with this stark hairstyle. His eyes were still that gorgeous green, his lips full and inviting. Except that now they just looked sad.
‘Settled into the new house OK?’ he said with false jollity.
‘Yes, fine.’
‘Alex OK?’
‘Yes. Thanks.’
‘Well, I’d better be off now. Lessons to prepare, you know. See you around.’
Lara stared after him. This wasn’t right. In fact, this was very wrong. The problem was, she had no idea what to do about it.
Chapter Twenty-Six
On the pupils’ first day back at school it rained with a steady, soaking drizzle that was such a part of Scottish life. Lara had heard that it denoted low levels of pollution, but that might just be someone trying to put a positive spin on things.
The children seemed to feel much the same as she did. Resigned and unenthusiastic. They thronged the roads leading into the school grounds, chattering away, very few of them wearing coats. The classrooms would smell of damp clothing today, but Lara preferred it to yesterday’s echoing buildings, when all she had had to do was think about Mick.
‘Morning, Miss.’
‘Good holiday, Miss?’
‘I saw you with Mr Jensen, Miss. Are you going out with him?’
‘Are you? You’re so lucky. I think he’s dead cool.’
Lara tried to smile. She answered the questions about her holidays but not about Mick, and then began to take register. She had been given a Third Year class this year, which indicated Mr McIntyre really did think highly of her disciplinary skills.
All things considered, the first day didn’t go too badly. She hurried home and changed quickly out of her smart skirt and blouse into something more suitable for working on Ladybank Row. She had no marking to do so early in the term, so could put in a good two or three hours on the painting. Alex had been on her own all day and would no doubt be glad of the company.
Alex, however, after professing herself pleased to see Lara and asking politely about her day, returned immediately to her digging. She said Ed McAnulty had been around again to chat about Ryan, and blushed as she spoke. She said this had held her up so she really had to get on.
Lara started the painting and put on the radio for company, but there was nothing she wanted to listen to. She actually wished Mick was there; at least then she could tell him she didn’t need any help from anyone.
She finished painting one of the bedrooms in Number Two and rinsed out the brush and roller. Then she made a pot of tea and opened her laptop to check the application form for the head of Humanities job one last time. And then, before she could change her mind, she pressed send.
She wondered how she would feel if she didn’t get the job. She was pretty sure at least one of the other teachers in the department would apply. Malcolm Rowley was in his late forties and had been at the school for decades. Although there was nothing actually wrong with him, she didn’t think he’d set the world alight if he was appointed. But, as she thought it over, she realised she wouldn’t be devastated either. He was a nice enough guy. He wouldn’t intimidate her, wouldn’t go all out to make her life a misery.
And in the unlikely event she was offered the post herself she could see just how to involve him. He had been running a history club for years without any great success, but she knew he really loved it. Maybe if they changed it to include outside speakers, matched topics with the syllabus, that might work. They could even have some joint sessions with the Loreburn Archaeology Group, show the kids what their own area had to offer, that history wasn’t just something you were
taught in school. She would champion after-school clubs, maybe even start a geography one herself … Lara smiled. Now there was an idea.
Then she gave in and allowed herself to dwell on what was really troubling her. Mick.
She hadn’t managed to speak to him at school today. When she had passed him in the staff room he had said a vague hello and then ignored her. The pain he caused each time he did that didn’t seem to be getting any less. She didn’t understand him. Why was he being like that? It wasn’t as if she had done anything to hurt him.
Had she?
A strange thought occurred to her. What if she had? Since going to Devon she had no longer felt convinced that love wasn’t for her, that she couldn’t take the risk. She had finally been able to see that her parents did love her, that she was important to them. That meant she was, actually, lovable.
So the question now in her head was, why shouldn’t she take the risk? Why had she been such a coward for so long? Life didn’t come with any guarantees but surely she was strong enough to give it a try? But when she had arrived back in Loreburn it seemed Mick couldn’t wait to see the back of her. He’d even helped pack her boxes, to speed up the move to Ladybank Row. How ironic that when she was finally prepared to take a risk, Mick didn’t even care.
Now she wondered if she dared hope that he did. That he had been hurt. That he wasn’t staying away from her because he didn’t want to see her. Might it not be, rather, because he did?
The very idea was terrifying. Thoughts swirled around in her head, but she could come to no conclusion. For minutes on end she felt crazily hopeful, and then she would remember his closed expression and be in despair again. How was she ever going to know?
She had to do something – but what? She was prepared to accept that she could change, that she might dare to love. Well, to be honest, that she already was in love with Mick Jensen and probably had been for months. But she didn’t know whether she had the courage to tell him. It wasn’t just the fear of rejection, it was pure, abject terror at revealing her deepest feelings to someone.
By the time she rose the next morning after an almost sleepless night she had decided. She knew Mick’s early morning routine almost as well as her own, and if she was quick she could catch him before he left for school. She couldn’t wait any longer. She had to speak to him.
It took Mick a while to answer the door and Lara stood in the cool morning air and wondered for the twentieth time is she was being a fool. Maybe he wasn’t here. Maybe the last thing he would want was to see her. He had made that clear enough already, hadn’t he? Cutting short every conversation, turning away from her smiles. What if she had got this all wrong?
And then the door opened and Mick was standing there in an old tracksuit, a piece of toast in one hand, looking as good as he had always done.
They stared at each other for a moment without saying a word.
Then they both spoke at once.
‘I’m sorry I disturbed you –’
‘Come in for a coffee.’
Lara hesitated. Wasn’t this what she had hoped for, an invitation to go inside? She shrugged very slightly. ‘OK, if you’re sure.’
Mick didn’t bother to answer. He stood back to allow her inside. The house was so familiar it hurt. The bags of sports kit sticking out from under the stairs, the milk carton left out in the kitchen.
Mick smiled faintly as he lifted the milk to smell it. ‘I think this might be off. I’m useless at putting things away.’
Lara knew that. ‘I have my coffee black,’ she said. He knew that.
He pushed the back door open, as though the kitchen was too small for both of them. Lara sighed silently. This wasn’t going well.
‘It was really good of you to help Ryan out,’ she said. ‘Alex says he’s really excited about working for a real builder.’
‘He’ll only be there on a trial basis, initially. After that, it’s up to him.’
‘At least he’s getting a chance,’ said Lara. ‘And did you know that as a result of this Alex and Ed are getting quite … friendly?’
‘Mmm,’ said Mick, obviously not interested.
She took the mug her offered her. The silence was getting uncomfortable.
‘Did you want to see me about something?’ said Mick. He put his hand up to ruffle his hair, and then realised there was nothing of it to ruffle.
‘I …’ said Lara. She put the mug down on the little Formica table. She didn’t think she could do this. Maybe if he had given her an opening, some sign of encouragement, she could have gone through with it. But how did you launch into a declaration of undying love when someone was checking their watch and looking bored? ‘I’ve changed my mind,’ she said. ‘I think I should go.’
‘Why did you come here?’ he sounded tired.
Lara’s nerve failed entirely. ‘I made a mistake,’ she said.
She marched to the front door, the door that had been her front door for so many months. Through the glass pane she saw the little willow tree drooping under the drizzle that had started again, the crack in the letterbox, the scratched paintwork. Then suddenly she couldn’t see any of it for the tears. She never used to cry. Now she seemed to fill up with any little emotion. Goodness, she had never even liked this house, why was she upset?
‘Lara?’ said Mick quietly from behind her.
She sniffed. He was bound to realise she was crying so she might as well get the whole thing out of the way. With her back to him she said, ‘I came to tell you I thought we’d made a mistake, not giving ourselves a chance. You know, to have a relationship.’
‘I wanted to give us a chance,’ he said quietly. ‘It was you who didn’t.’
‘I came to tell you I made a mistake suggesting we give it up.’ She sniffed again and felt in her pocket for a tissue. She blew her nose and turned around to face him. ‘I came to ask you to reconsider. I thought maybe we could give it a try again. But it’s not going to work, is it?’
‘Why not?’ said Mick. His face showed absolutely no expression.
‘Because you don’t want to.’
‘I didn’t say that.’
‘But it’s what you think.’
‘No, I don’t.’
Lara stopped and stared at him. He was watching her warily from those beautiful green eyes. ‘You don’t?’ she said in a whisper.
Then he put his arms around her and pulled her close, and she felt as though she had come home. She was crying and he was kissing her and then she was kissing him back. ‘I’ve missed you so much.’ He wiped her tears away with his fingers. ‘Don’t cry.’
‘I’m not crying.’
‘You could have fooled me.’
‘I’m happy. If … if you’ll really let us have another try.’
‘More than that,’ he said, burying his face in her hair and holding her so tight it hurt. ‘This isn’t just going to be a try, this is going to be the real thing.’ Then he pulled back and looked at her. ‘For me, anyway. I love you, Lara Mason.’ He kissed her gently on the lips.
‘Oh.’
‘Is that all you can say?’
Lara was scared again, but scared in a good way, tingly all over. She said in a whisper, ‘I think I love you too, but it’s hard to get used to the idea.’
He laughed and swung her around and around. ‘You’ve got all the time in the world,’ he said.
And then he kissed her again.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
It was the first day of the Christmas holidays and Mick was carrying the very last box of his belongings into Number Four Ladybank Row.
‘There! It’s done. I thought we’d never manage it.’
‘Trying to get this house finished and moving in right before Christmas was a crazy idea,’ said Lara, looking up from the crockery she was sorting into cupboards.
‘I think it was an excellent idea.’
‘That’s because it was your idea!’
‘I know. And thank goodness we’re actually going to manage
it.’
They grinned at each other and Lara moved easily into his arms, still amazed at how wonderful it felt to do that. When he started to get a bit too distracted by the kisses, she pushed him away, laughing.
‘We’ll never get everything sorted out if we carry on like that.’
‘It’s a shame,’ he said, but he took her point because he merely dropped a kiss on her nose and headed upstairs with the box.
Lara couldn’t prevent herself doing a little dance of joy, just as she had done that first day when she had shown Alex around the derelict houses. How different it all was now! Number One, where Alex now lived alone, and Number Four, which was to be Lara and Mick’s first house together, were completely finished. From the outside your eye was still drawn to the funny little windows, the quirky roofline, but everything had been repointed and repainted. Inside the houses were beautiful. Every room had been replastered and painted a different pastel shade. The kitchens and bathrooms were modern and gorgeous. Everyone (even Ed McAnulty) agreed it was a great success.
And if money was just a little bit tight, things would improve now Mick’s house was sold, and even more when Numbers Two and Three were finished and put on the market. Yes, things were definitely looking up. Even the head of department job, which Lara had started with excitement and trepidation after the October holidays, was going well.
Mick reappeared and produced a bottle of fizzy wine from the fridge. ‘Surely it’s time we opened this?’
‘Give me a minute to finish this cupboard. Mum and Dad are arriving first thing tomorrow and I want it to be perfect.’ Imagine that. Mum and Dad coming, willingly, to stay with her and Mick for Christmas. And Lara looking forward to it!
‘It already looks fine to me,’ said Mick, unwinding the metal cover. ‘But then I’m not a perfectionist like some people.’
‘No, you’re not,’ agreed Lara, too happy to even mind being teased. She put away the final pile of plates and wiped her hands. Then she took the filled glass he handed her. ‘Not perfectionist, but for me you’re pretty near perfect.’
‘Snap,’ he said, smiling his brilliant smile. ‘You’re perfect for me, too.’ He clinked his glass against hers. ‘Here’s to us and to all our tomorrows.’
Tomorrow's Promise Page 16