by Lucy Coleman
‘Yes, this is Cary.’
Cary gently retracts his arm from around me and the two men shake hands.
‘Nice to meet you, Cary. Sorry about the appalling circumstances. This really has shocked us all to the core. We had no idea our son had a violent streak and we’ve seen a side of him that has horrified us. You will look after Leesa, won’t you?’
He sounds choked and with that he leans forward, throwing his arms around me and hugging me fiercely.
‘Take care, darling girl.’
Immediately I find myself being steered towards the car, so I don’t have to watch Peter walk away.
Cary keeps glancing down at me as he helps me slide into the passenger seat. I settle myself in and gratefully let the headrest do its job. He doesn’t say a word but fusses over doing up my seatbelt as if I’m incapable. Strangely enough, I’m more than content to have him take charge.
‘I’m good. Really. It’s all been a bit of a shock, that’s all.’ I owe him an explanation, but I don’t quite know where to start to explain what happened. Sucking in a deep breath, I wait for Cary to walk around to the driver’s side. When he’s sitting next to me and we begin to pull away from the kerb, I feel an overwhelming sense of relief. Of finality. A line has now been drawn and there is no going back.
‘You’re safe now, so relax. I’m just going to make a quick call.’
He presses a button on the dashboard and the console lights up, then a dialling tone fills the car. It rings for only a few seconds before a voice looms up out of the darkness.
‘Cary?’
‘Yes, Granddad, it’s me.’
‘Twice in one day; you must be bored at the big gathering.’
‘Look, I have a friend who needs a quiet room for the night and there are too many distractions back at the house. I know it’s late but—’
‘No problem at all. My guest bed is always made up, you know that.’
‘Great, thank you. We’re about twenty minutes away. See you in a bit.’
The light fades to nothing as the caller disconnects.
‘I don’t mean to be trouble, really I don’t, and this wasn’t at all what I was—’
‘Hey, it’s me you’re talking to. I understand drama, my life is full of it. You need a warm bed and you need peace and quiet with no prying eyes. Granddad’s place is perfect and if you need anything at all… well, at least someone will be within earshot. I think that’s important right now. He doesn’t say much, and he won’t require an explanation. Let’s just focus on getting you settled there for the night and in the morning I’ll drive over and we can talk, okay?’
‘Okay. And thank you, Cary. I know this is more than you bargained for – than either of us bargained for. I owe you and I won’t forget that.’
‘As I said, we’ll talk in the morning. Now lie back and try to unwind. As long as you’re in one piece, after a good night’s sleep you’ll feel a whole lot better than you look right now.’
I’m too shattered to pick up on the way he’s trying to lighten the moment, but it’s appreciated. There was no one else I could call, given the situation. Cary Anderson has, quite simply, rescued me as surely as any hero from one of Cressida’s novels.
*
Opening my eyes with a start as the engine dies, I stare across at Cary, feeling a little disorientated.
‘You fell into a deep sleep and I didn’t like to wake you. We’re here. I’ll get you settled in for the night. Granddad’s a bit of a loner, but he’s someone you can count on in times of need. He doesn’t poke his nose into other people’s business.’
Before I have time to even think about the fact that I don’t really know anything at all about this man whose home I’m about to enter, Cary is helping me out of the car. We seem to have parked at the rear of a property and there’s no lighting here. In the pitch-black I can make out the outline of an old stone lodge. As we walk around it, I can see that it could probably fit inside a third of the ground-floor footprint of Cressida’s house. Cary searches in his pocket for a key to the front door and moments later we’re stepping inside.
The interior is warm, and a welcoming light glows in the small, enclosed entrance porch. From there we walk directly into a sitting room with a big open fireplace, where embers still glow and then a right turn takes us into a small passageway. Cary leans in front of me to swing open an old-style latched door.
It’s not an exceptionally large room but it feels very cosy and countryfied. I don’t know what I was expecting but it’s beautifully furnished with some lovely traditional pieces and a sleigh bed made of solid oak.
‘Very Christmassy,’ I find myself saying, rather bizarrely.
‘And comfortable,’ Cary adds.
He returns to the car to get my things and I slip off my coat and see that there’s a bottle of mineral water on the table next to the bed. I notice that the curtains have been drawn, too.
‘Here you go. The door between the two wardrobes leads into the ensuite. There’s no bath, just a shower, I’m afraid.’
I turn to look at Cary, struggling to muster even a weak smile.
‘I’m tired, that’s all.’
‘That will be the shock hitting your system. Get some rest and I’ll drive over in the morning as soon as I can get away.’
He takes two paces forward to wrap his arms around me and I wonder how he knew what I wanted most, at this exact moment, was to be held. We stand, motionless, for almost a minute before he releases me.
‘The worst is over. Sleep well.’ And with that he’s gone.
I hate Christmas. I really hate it.
12
A Little Oasis
I’m awake long before Cary’s text lights up my phone.
How did you sleep?
Good, as soon as my head sunk into the pillow.
This morning I’m feeling embarrassed about causing so much trouble to so many people. It feels like it was all my fault and yet I’m not even sure what happened. When Gwen knocked on my bedroom door to give me the full story about Nathan’s sudden appearance, I understood her dilemma. He’d had a huge row with Sheryl. Nathan was always fiery and I bet her parents were there expecting a cosy family Christmas dinner. Gwen wasn’t sure if he simply walked out or was asked to leave.
We agreed that Peter would drive me home and I began packing my things. I walked into Gwen and Peter’s sitting room after it had all kicked off and for one moment fear hit my stomach with an insidious chill. I saw the large, almost empty, glass on the coffee table next to a bottle of whisky. Who thought that was a good idea, I wondered. Then I realised that while Nathan was probably drunk and had lost control, he was still only lashing out at things, not people. Maybe he was only a risk to himself. But I wasn’t the only one in shock at what I was witnessing and one thing is very clear to all of us now. He needs help.
I can’t get across for about an hour. Granddad is up, and he said when you’re ready, wander out through to the kitchen at the back of the lodge. He’ll make you some tea and toast.
My fingers instantly start clicking.
Okay. See you later. And sorry for pulling you into my nightmare.
He replies with a smiley face. Guess there’s not an emoticon to express pity.
The shower is hot and when I’m dressed I pull my hair up into a ponytail as it feels straggly, but I couldn’t face washing and blow drying it. I don’t look too bad, just a little tired but I’m hungry and that, I suppose, is a good sign.
Walking out into the tiny passageway I notice two wonderfully worn oak steps in the far corner. Sticking my head around the curved wall, there’s a staircase leading up to the first floor. It’s narrow and dark as the only window is a small one in the adjacent wall. But a little vase sits on the sill with some fresh white roses and the radiator below it wafts the perfume up into the air.
I’m intrigued now as I filter out into the sitting room, noting that the fire hasn’t been cleared of the ashes from yesterday. I make my way out
through a door which is directly opposite the one we entered through last night. It leads into a dining room big enough to accommodate a large wooden armoire and a table to seat six people quite comfortably. There’s a window seat looking out over what I assume is the side garden and as I turn to open the only other door in the room, I can hear the low sound of music. Easing the latch up as noiselessly as I can, I peer inside.
‘I wondered if you were awake, so I texted Cary. Thought you might be hungry.’
The man buttering toast at the butcher’s block island has a full head of grey hair and when he turns to face me, he raises one eyebrow.
‘Leesa, isn’t it?’
‘Yes. And you’re Matthew.’
He smiles. ‘You’ve heard a bit about me then. I hope it wasn’t from Cressida.’
His eyes sparkle with amusement and he’s not at all what I was expecting. Nothing I’d heard had prepared me for the relaxed, smiling man in front of me. He’s wearing a baggy sweater, and corduroy trousers, and for some reason he reminds me of a gardener.
‘Do you mind laying the table? Everything you need will be in the dresser over there. Tea or coffee?’
I pull out a drawer and grab some teaspoons and knives, then hunt for some plates.
‘Coffee, please, would be amazing. And that toast smells divine.’
‘Nothing hits the spot like a slice of hot, buttered toast after the world has caved in.’
‘Hmm. Isn’t that the truth,’ I reply, surprising myself. Cary said he keeps himself to himself but Matthew is going out of his way to make me feel comfortable and I appreciate that.
When the table is laid, and we take our seats opposite each other, all Matthew talks about, in between munching on toast, is the lodge and the garden. Then it occurs to me that he’s simply keeping me occupied. Whether that’s because Cary told him to do so, or he’s worried I’ll launch into some grand explanation about my circumstances, I have no idea. But I feel very at ease.
‘The darned snow fell before I could tie up my palm and I’m going to have to do a lot of hacking to rescue it. The weight of it blighted some of the new growth, so it will mean stripping back the damaged leaves to allow it to renew itself from the heart again.’
Ironically, that description hits home with me. This is day one of my own fresh start, I suppose, as all of my links with Nathan’s family have to be cut. It’s time for me to nurture my own heart again.
After a second cup of coffee and three pieces of toast, I feel pleasantly full.
‘Fancy a tour?’ Matthew asks, nodding in the direction of the window that overlooks the side garden.
‘I’d love that, thank you.’
‘It’s not huge but the garden surrounds the lodge on all four sides so it’s very private.’
We clear the dishes and Matthew washes while I dry them. Then we head off to grab our coats.
The back door is in the traditional stable-style, the top half has a glass panel and opens independently to the bottom half. While I wait for Matthew to unlock it, I let my gaze take in the detail of the kitchen. It has a large sloping roof towering above us, which indicates it’s an extension on the side of the original building. Once we’re outside it all becomes clear.
Two huge chimney stacks grace the hand-hewn, tiled roof which branches off in three directions.
‘Originally it was more or less two rooms up and down. It was a place for the riders to gather before the hunt. Over the years it had been extended but for the most part it’s over 250 years old. The newest addition, the kitchen extension, was built in the late 1800s.’
Matthew doesn’t stop to take in my look of fascination, as if he’s oblivious and I sense he’s quite a shy person at heart. I wonder if people sometimes misinterpret that as him being a little aloof, or reserved.
‘It’s delightful. I love the mullioned windows set in the buff stone. And you tend this garden alone?’
Ahead of us is a circular area abutted by a greenhouse and two sheds. In the middle is a large tree and around that are raised beds. Snow still covers much of it but there’s enough greenery poking through to show it’s both a winter and summer garden, with plenty of evergreen plants.
‘Yes. In summer it’s a blaze of colour and I simply work with what was originally here. But I gather the seeds each year and plant out the seedlings every spring to keep the flowers coming. The rest is mainly pruning and weeding. It keeps me out of mischief, as they say.’
We trudge along the path that wraps around the lodge and Matthew talks me through the planting as if I’m a trainee, but it’s actually very interesting.
‘Hey, he’s not boring you with all those Latin names, is he?’
Cary’s appearance has us both spinning around on our heels. A warm, fuzzy feeling begins to glow in the pit of my stomach. How is it that I suddenly feel safe whenever Cary is around? I guess he’s more like his granddad than he realises.
‘I only do that when I feel the need to show off. And I do it precisely because I know it bores people. Well, I guess I’ll leave you to it, then.’
To my surprise Matthew turns and walks away without even a glance in my direction. Retracing my steps, I walk over to stand beside Cary.
‘You scared him away. We were having a nice chat.’
I feel a tad awkward standing here facing Cary after last night. Should I hug him by way of thanks, or pretend everything is normal? Which it isn’t. As if sensing my hesitation, he leans in to kiss my cheek.
‘Glad to see you looking so much better. I guess we need to come up with an action plan for today. Boxing Day is a weird one, isn’t it? Nothing happening because everyone is flaked out after over-indulging yesterday.’
‘Almost everyone,’ I mutter under my breath.
We saunter along the gravelled path towards the rear of the lodge, but in a way, I would have liked to have continued with Matthew’s tour. Instead, Cary leads me back the way we came and then across to a large, single-storey building built of similar, although much newer, stone.
‘This is Granddad’s work-in-progress. It’s probably unlocked.’
The handle turns, and we walk inside. It’s an open-plan shell at the moment but large enough to be divided into two separate rooms and accommodate a good-sized bathroom.
‘What’s it for?’
‘I have no idea, but it keeps him busy. He was an architect and it’s in his nature to design things. A local builder is giving him a hand. It’s big enough to be a little country retreat, so perhaps he intends to rent it out. Who knows? Now the shell is complete it will probably only take a couple of months to fit out the interior.’
Cary leads me across to an old wooden settle being used as a workbench and moves a couple of tools scattered on the top. Then he sweeps his glove over it to clear most of the dust and indicates for me to take a seat. Lowering himself down next to me, we both let out weary sighs.
‘What a mess!’ I declare, and Cary shakes his head in a sorry way.
‘It’s even worse than you think. When I joked about winning the bet I wasn’t being entirely truthful.’
‘No!’ My disbelief is hard to hide.
‘Yes. But I used you in name only, so technically it isn’t a draw, although I will admit timing-wise I might have beaten you to it.’
I’m relieved, which sounds awful, but it helps a little to know this isn’t one-sided.
‘The Christmas Day meal is stressful, what can I say? Sitting around the table with one’s family for a dinner that stretches out over a painfully prolonged period is, quite frankly, traumatic. It’s the creeping death as one by one the questioning moves around the table. Okay, so the kids took up a big part of that because they ramble when they tell you their news. Little Chloe still can’t quite fathom out what’s real from what’s a story, so hers always ends up resembling some sort of a fairytale. I’m pretty sure she didn’t really bump into a wolf one day in the garden.’
This time I burst out laughing.
‘And when it
was your turn?’
‘No wolves, but I can only talk about work for so long. Cressida said she’s relieved I’m finally getting some balance in my life. That’s where you came into it. I managed to conjure up a few convincing facts. I mean, I know how you like your coffee and some of your favourite foods.’ He looks at me with a rueful smile. ‘It seems there was quite a bit I took note of in our time together. I even impressed Laurence, although he did say that he didn’t know what you saw in me. Usually my trump card is that he thinks I’m one lucky man as I only get nagged during the holidays. Guess he envies me for something else now.’
Hmm. ‘Well, that doesn’t sound too bad.’
‘It wasn’t, until Chloe piped up again.’
I look at him askance. Chloe is, what – three, I think? Rather young to say anything untoward.
‘This time she asked if she could marry me. I started laughing, of course. But she was serious, as they tend to be at that age. Then Laurence joined in, saying that I wasn’t free any longer.’
‘Ah, she wants to marry you, that’s sweet!’ I smirk, mercilessly.
‘It would have been, but the kids ran off to play and left the subject on the table, so to speak. Cressida began talking about it being time to put her affairs in order and start decluttering her life. In her will the house is left to me as the eldest and her investments and rights to her books are left to Laurence. She said she was growing tired of having to run the house and grounds and it was time to re-think her future.’
I swallow hard. Isn’t that what people do when they know they’re ill and preparing for the inevitable? Cressida certainly looks like she’s in good health to me. Cary continues, but his frown is deepening by the second.
‘It was weird and we all looked at her aghast. She loves that house, it’s been a large part of her life’s work, aside from raising us and writing her novels. When we tried to draw her out and get some sort of indication of what was really behind this she was evasive. The conclusion we came to is that Grandma is ill but has no intention of sharing the details. Laurence and I spoke privately, afterwards. He thinks she made the announcement because she believes it won’t be long until I tie the knot. With you. I know it must sound like I complain about her a lot but she’s the most important person in my life, Leesa. I couldn’t even begin to think about life without her.’