Happiness for Beginners

by Carole Matthews

  He hasn’t asked if he can he see me again and I suppose that I’m not really surprised. I guess that this will only happen the once. Fair enough. Shelby hasn’t declared undying love and owes me nothing. It was a spur of the moment passion, something I’ve never felt or done before.

  I’m OK with that. Really I am.

  Chapter Sixty-Seven

  The next day there’s a little kernel of glowy warmth in my heart that wasn’t there pre-Shelby. I don’t know whether to share it with Bev or keep it to myself. She might be pleased for me, but there’s an equal chance that she might claw my eyes out.

  When I fed the lambs again early this morning, I kept getting delicious flashbacks to last night. If I close my eyes I can still feel his skin against my skin, his mouth on my mouth, his body joined with mine. I want to call Shelby and thank him, but would that be weird? I’m unsure of the etiquette of these things.

  Now Bev and I are at the stables together, supervising our students who are mucking out today. This is our regular, thorough strip-down where we take everything out of the stalls and give it a good clean – bedding, feed buckets and even favourite toys and licks. We use the brooms to knock down all the accumulated spiders’ webs which usually has at least one or more of the students screaming. Then we disinfect it all before putting it all back nice and tidy. It’s my favourite thing to do as I find it so satisfying – like cleaning a dirty oven – but I realise that I’m in a minority.

  Currently, the students are attacking it with a high level of enthusiasm which I know from past experience won’t last. Depending on how many we have here, we try to rotate the duties so that they only have to do it once a week. Twice at the most. Sometimes three times. Animals poo and wee a lot, what can I tell you?

  Bev pauses in her work. ‘Despite all your trials and tribulations, there seems to be a distinct sparkle in your eyes.’ She stares at me, her own eyes narrowed, as she forks the hay. ‘Would you like to tell Auntie Bev why?’

  I’m wavering about whether I should ’fess up or not when Alan saunters in, a pace which never varies no matter what he’s doing. Today he’s sporting a Band of Skulls T-shirt and that’s way beyond my musical scope. I look at Bev and she pulls a face at me. Clearly she feels the same.

  Alan holds up a small generator. ‘Culprit.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Culprit,’ he reiterates. ‘It was this bugger what started the fire.’

  ‘You’re kidding me.’ As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I know that Alan would never joke with me.

  ‘Frayed wire.’

  ‘Seriously? You’re absolutely sure that’s what caused the barn fire?’

  ‘Yeah. Well, ninety-nine-point-nine per cent recurring,’ He offers the offending cable to me to examine.

  It certainly does look, even to the untrained eye, that it’s burnt out. ‘Damn.’

  ‘I thought you’d be pleased,’ Bev says, leaning on her pitchfork.

  ‘I am, but it means that I questioned Lucas unnecessarily.’ Why didn’t I wait until at least we had some evidence of what caused it? I should never have voiced my concerns so soon. ‘It wasn’t him all along and I’ve done him a great disservice.’

  ‘At least we know now,’ Bev points out, ever practical. ‘Phone him and explain. Grovel a bit. Maybe a lot. He’ll come back. He’s a good kid.’

  ‘I hope you’re right.’ I touch Alan’s arm. ‘Thanks, Alan. That’s great.’

  ‘We need a new one.’

  Marvellous. More expense. ‘I’ll see what I can do.’

  Alan wanders off and Bev and I return to our mucking out. I take a strange pleasure in the monotony of barrowing the manure across the yard to the manure heap. It gives me time to think. Though this morning I brood about how to approach Lucas, cross that I handled it so badly. Before you say anything, I know I’m not Superwoman, that I can’t be expected to be perfect all the time, but this was important and I dropped the ball on it. Shame I didn’t stop to think it through before launching in.

  We move all the mulch, then Bev and I show the students how to clean and maintain the tools, how to store them safely – though Tamara and Jody have lost interest and are entertaining themselves with selfies. I give them both brooms and they sulk. When we’ve thoroughly swept all the hay debris from the area and the stables are clean and tidy once more, we break for lunch.

  I eat my baked sweet potato without tasting it. The kids chatter away happily, seemingly unfazed by yesterday’s drama, which is a very good thing. I don’t want any of them derailed by this. Plus I’ve yet to tell them that the future of their beloved farm is about to be derailed, literally. I’ve that joy to come. Ideally, I hope to have a solution in place before I start to worry them.

  While we’re clearing up after lunch, I say to Bev, ‘I might call Lucas now and apologise.’

  She nods at me. ‘I’ll take this lot to help with the egg collection before their tutor comes.’

  ‘OK.’ So they all leave me alone in the tea room and, feeling as if I’d rather eat my own face with a fork, I call Lucas.

  I don’t know if it’s relief or disappointment that washes over me when my call goes straight to voicemail. I wonder if he’s identified that it’s me who’s trying to contact him? I take a deep breath before I launch in.

  ‘Hi Lucas,’ I say. ‘I’m just phoning to apologise for the other day. Alan’s found out what did cause the fire and I know that it wasn’t you. I’d like to talk about it. Please call me when you get this message. It’s Molly.’

  I hang up. Then I sit and don’t quite know what to do. Eventually, I decide to leave a message for Shelby as well. My hand shakes as I punch in the number and my heart pounds so much that I think it might just jump out of my mouth.

  I get Shelby’s voicemail too.

  ‘Hi,’ I say as lightly as I can manage. ‘Molly here. Just wanted you to know that Alan found the cause of the fire and it wasn’t anything to do with Lucas. I hope you’re as relieved as I am to hear that. I can only apologise that I thought it might be anything to do with him. Please tell Lucas that if you get the chance. I’ve called him and left a message too. Anyway, call me if you want to chat about it further.’ Then I hesitate. Should I mention last night? Would it seem gauche? I think it probably would. So I finish off with a rather forced and cheery ‘Bye,’ and hang up.

  Then I wait. What else can I do?

  Chapter Sixty-Eight

  A week goes by and neither Lucas nor Shelby respond to my call. I want to leave more messages, but I don’t in case they think I’m a deranged nut job. Still, it leaves me completely unsettled and I go about my chores in a more haphazard and distracted manner than usual. Little Dog is very concerned for my well-being and sticks to me like glue – even more so than usual. Big Dog and Fifty pick up on his distress and latch onto him too which means that I go everywhere with a following of two anxious dogs and a concerned sheep.

  If I’m honest, I’m not sure which lack of reply hurts me more – Shelby or Lucas. I’m feeling it like a physical pain in my chest. This is why I stick to animals and don’t get too involved with people if at all possible.

  The rain is lashing horizontally across the hills today, making all tasks take twice as long. Usually, I don’t mind bad weather. It’s all part of the deal. Today the rain seems spiteful, the wind malevolent, the clouds cruel and I can’t face them. Instead, I grab the opportunity to hibernate in the caravan and spend an hour on the phone to a man at the council whose mission in life is clearly to be as unhelpful as possible. When I hang up, almost weeping with frustration, I’m no closer to finding a solution for our impending homelessness. The end date is looming large and, so far, I have no fall-back plan. None.

  Bev sticks her head round the door. ‘The weather’s a total bitch today.’

  ‘Isn’t she just.’ Fingers of rain drum against the roof and tap at the windows.

  ‘The kids are cranky buggers.’ My friend shakes the rain from her shoulders as she comes i
n, soaking everything in the vicinity. She shrugs out of her wet things, hanging her coat on the back of the door and kicking off her wellies. ‘They hate the rain more than me. I’ve given up and am letting them sit flicking mindlessly through their phones in the tea room until it stops peeing down.’

  ‘I don’t blame you.’

  She frowns at me. ‘Everything all right in here?’

  ‘Not really,’ I admit with a weary puff of breath. ‘I’ve been on the phone for ages, yet I still can’t find anywhere for us to go. Especially on our meagre budget.’

  ‘Bum,’ she says and comes in to sit next to me. ‘Too early for vodka?’

  ‘It’s not yet eleven o’clock.’

  ‘A tad then.’

  ‘I’ll make us a coffee.’

  While I bang about with the cups, Bev says, ‘Still no word from Lucas or the rather wonderful Mr Dacre?’

  ‘No.’ I make the coffee and hand her a mug. When I sit back down opposite her, I blurt out, ‘I slept with him.’

  She stares at me, aghast. ‘Shelby?’

  ‘Who else?’

  ‘I did wonder for a moment if you meant Alan.’

  ‘He’s lovely but, no, not Alan.’ I can’t imagine Alan ever taking off his band T-shirt. Actually, I really don’t want to imagine Alan taking off his band T-shirt.

  Her eyes widen as she digests my startling announcement. ‘You shagged Shelby Dacre?’

  ‘I did. Don’t look at me like that.’

  ‘Oh, God. You lucky, lucky woman. I wanted first dibs on him.’

  ‘We didn’t mean for it to happen.’

  ‘Did you do it here?’ She gives a sideways glance to my sofa, clearly intent on an interrogation.

  ‘Er … no. Actually it was in the stable. In the hay.’

  ‘Seriously? You dirty cow!’

  ‘I’d hoped for something more encouraging than that.’

  ‘Hay though? All I think of is poo and mice.’

  ‘It was the new stuff in the stable. Untouched by animals or humans.’

  ‘Bugger.’ She pulls a jealous face at me. ‘That sounds positively romantic.’

  She’s right. It was.

  Bev sighs heavily and gives a wistful little stare. ‘Hay or not, I bet he was flipping fabulous.’

  ‘I have very little to compare it with, but I’d head towards flipping fabulous.’

  ‘I knew it!’ she shouts out.

  I can feel my cheeks burning. I’m not even going to mention the post-coital bucket shower we took together. Bev might spontaneously combust. The images play in my mind once more. I might spontaneously combust!

  ‘And what about Ms Scarlett Moddle-turned-Actress?’

  ‘Strangely, we didn’t talk about her.’

  ‘I bet you didn’t.’ Bev rubs her face with her hands. ‘Blimey. I can’t leave you alone for five minutes.’

  ‘Can I point out that in all the years you’ve known me, this is the first time that I’ve acted out of character? It was purely a spur of the moment thing.’

  ‘So? Are you going to give me all the details?’

  ‘No. It was a one-off. That’s all. He hasn’t called me since. I didn’t expect him to.’

  ‘But, nevertheless, you’re disappointed that he hasn’t.’ Her hand covers mine.

  I feel stupid tears prickling behind my eyes as I answer, ‘Yes.’

  ‘Oh, Mols. You are not wise in the ways of the world. You definitely should have left him to me.’

  I laugh and wipe my eyes. ‘Is that the best you’ve got to offer?’

  ‘Look, you’ve got to forget about Shelby Dacre. He’s obviously just like the cad he plays. Put it in a little cupboard at the back of your mind, the one labelled “nice memories”, mark it down to experience and don’t waste any more time thinking about him.’

  ‘Sound advice.’ And it would be so much easier to do if, every time I close my eyes, I didn’t see Shelby’s face or relive his strong body moving above me.

  ‘Lucas is a different matter altogether. He needs you. Get yourself up to that swanky mansion this afternoon and bang on his door. We can manage without you for an hour or so. He’s bound to be there. Where else would he be? Shelby will be on set, so he won’t be around. You can talk to Lucas face to face.’

  ‘Do you think I should?’

  ‘You know I’m always right,’ Bev asserts. ‘Do it.’

  ‘I will.’ I need to have closure on this and, surely, it can’t do any harm? Can it?

  Chapter Sixty-Nine

  I take the truck up to Shelby’s big posh house. The gears are still grating and grinding as I haven’t had time to get it fixed yet. In a matter of weeks, I might not even need a truck for transporting farm animals, so I’ve put it out of my mind. I also try not to think of the conversation to come and, instead, concentrate on negotiating the country lanes.

  Today there’s no security guard on the gate, but they’re firmly closed against random callers. So I pull up next to the Homewood Manor plaque and, with only a momentary hesitation, lean out of the truck window to press the buzzer in the middle of an intercom box on the high wall.

  A minute later, Lucas’s voice says, ‘Hi. Who is it?’

  With a deep breath, I answer, ‘It’s me. Molly.’

  ‘Oh.’

  The gates stay shut. ‘Can I come and talk to you?’

  ‘I got your message.’

  ‘Good. I’d like to apologise.’

  ‘No need. Now we both know it wasn’t me. I told you that.’

  ‘And I reacted very badly, Lucas. I’m very sorry. I didn’t mean to let you down.’

  There’s a long silence, but I’m determined not to slink away. Not yet, anyway.

  When the silence continues, I say, ‘I’m not going away.’

  More silence.

  ‘If I’d known you were going to keep me out here all afternoon,’ I add, ‘I’d have brought a flask of tea and some chocolate Hobnobs.’

  There’s a weak laugh followed by a weary sigh and, clutching at straws, I take that as progress.

  Sure enough, a moment later, the gate buzzes and swings open. Lucas says, ‘I’ll meet you at the front of the house.’

  ‘OK.’ I graunch the truck into gear and trundle into the drive.

  As I make my way down the tree-lined entrance, I can see Lucas come out of the garden behind the house and plonk himself on a low wall by the fountain to wait for me. No matter how many times I see the house, it’s still just as impressive. It’s more like a hotel than a home, though. I park, and as I climb down from the cab, Lucas lopes over to me, not meeting my eyes.

  ‘Hi.’

  ‘I’m in a cottage out the back.’ He flicks a thumb over his shoulder. ‘I don’t live in the house any more.’

  I don’t tell him that Shelby had already mentioned that to me as I don’t want us to get off on the wrong foot. Lucas sets off and I fall into step next to him. We make our way into the garden behind the house, down a small path by the swimming pool, cut alongside the tennis court and come out into a smaller, more secluded garden that I didn’t notice on my last visit.

  There’s a single storey building here like a barn. It has a fancy porch and hanging baskets by the door.

  ‘Home, sweet home.’ Lucas pushes his way in and I follow. Inside there’s a small living area with a galley kitchen to one side. The huge television is on with the sound turned down and there’s a recently abandoned games console in the middle of the rug. At the far end, an open door shows a glimpse of an untidy bedroom. Under all the teenage detritus, I think it’s tastefully furnished.

  ‘This is nice.’

  He shrugs his indifference. ‘I suppose you want a cup of tea.’

  ‘That would be lovely. Thank you.’

  He clangs about, not speaking, while I stand there a bit awkwardly. Clearly, he’s not going to attempt to make this easy for me.

  When he comes back with two mugs, he says, ‘We can sit in the garden, if you like.’


  ‘Shall we walk up to that place where we sat before? It had a lovely view.’

  ‘OK.’

  So we take our mugs of tea into the garden, walk to the far side, away from the house and through the small copse of trees. The view is just as delightful as I remember. We sit down side by side on the bench sculpted from hay. Without speaking, we both take in the rolling countryside.

  Eventually, I grab my courage in both hands and break the silence. ‘I’ve missed you.’ When he doesn’t respond, I add, ‘We all have.’

  Lucas stares ahead, unmoved. ‘I was wrong to think that it was you. But, in my defence, I wasn’t thinking at all. My brain just blew a fuse. I didn’t know what to make of it. I’m sure you can understand how stressful this all is.’

  He makes a disparaging noise.

  ‘You said you were wrongly accused at school too.’

  ‘That doesn’t matter now, does it?’ He growls like an animal in pain. ‘I’m the one who’s been kicked out.’

  ‘You didn’t try to defend yourself?’

  ‘What was the point? I’m the weirdo kid. The one with no friends. Who’s going to believe me against the most popular guy in the school?’ He gives me a disgusted look. ‘No one. That’s who. Not even my own father. He just believed their version.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Lucas. That’s awful.’

  ‘It’s life,’ he says as if he’s tired of it all. ‘It’s shit and then you die.’

  ‘I could go with you to talk to the school, if you’d like.’

  ‘What’s the point? Wild horses couldn’t drag me back there.’

  ‘At least let’s sit down and talk to your dad about it. I left him a message, but he hasn’t got back to me yet.’

  ‘You’re way down his list,’ he says, somewhat spitefully. ‘He flew off to LA with Scarlett for a few days. That’s the last I’ve heard of him.’

  ‘What for?’

  Shrugging. ‘No fucking idea.’ He stares levelly at me. ‘So you see, Molly, there’s little reason to try to get me and my dear papa round a table. He’s just not that interested.’