Meet Me at Fir Tree Lodge

by Rachel Dove

  ‘It’s fine, don’t worry about it.’

  ‘No.’ He stood now and walked over to her, pushing the notes into her free hand. ‘Please, let me. I’ll feel better. I’ll get on with ordering a sofa too.’

  She wanted to protest, but the wine-soaked sofa behind her covered in her now battered sheets silenced her. ‘I’ll pay half, okay?’ She closed her fist around the money, offering him a fist to bump. He laughed, bumping it but dodging her attempt to put the money back into his hand.

  ‘Nice try, now scoot. I have a lot of angry clients to soothe.’

  As if on cue, his mobile phone rang again, and his laptop pinged with yet another email notification. She sighed dramatically, putting the money into her bag and waving him goodbye. He flashed her a big smile, his black-rimmed glasses nudging up his nose with the movement. She headed to the hallway, sitting on the little chair to push on her boots. As she laced them up, hearing Luke chatter away to a client, instantly turning him from angry to elated with a few work updates, she felt weird leaving him. Like she wanted to stay around today. Odd.

  Lacing up, she grabbed her thick, red coat and headed out to the café. She wanted to avoid running into Hans. The last thing she needed was him to see their rather domestic setup. She was pretty sure she’d just offered to buy a sofa with a man she lived with. That was enough weird behaviour for today.

  *

  ‘It’s not funny Holly! You utter shitbag!’

  Holly was now on all fours in front of her corner sofa, braying like a donkey, wearing loungewear, laughing her head off. ‘Stop then, give me a minute. I’m going to give birth here!’ She exploded again into a fit of giggles. Rebecca slurped her tea and waited for her friend to roll herself back onto the sofa. She did it with surprising dignity, followed by a snort that a rhino would have been proud of.

  ‘Oh God, I feel like Shamu the whale on this bloody thing! Don’t deprive me of the little bit of enjoyment I get. You have a hot man in your house, and all he does is wreck it!’ Another snort. Rebecca eyed her friend over her cup rim. ‘You didn’t argue when I said he was hot.’

  ‘Ah … I mean, he’s not really my type, but … yeah he’s okay. In a Henry from Ugly Betty kind of way.’

  Holly pulled a face. ‘Jesus, get over Henry already. Daniel was the hot one.’ She lay back on the white fabric, pushing her swollen ankles out flat and placing both hands on her bump. ‘Besides, Luke is hotter than Henry. He’s a lovely guy.’

  Rebecca looked around the room, which had the same wooden look and design of the café, but with Holly’s warmer touches. The little Moses basket in the corner even matched the décor, baby supplies set out in neat little baskets, all labelled up.

  ‘You need to get out more, this place looks like a home interiors magazine, or a Hello shoot for a movie star.’

  Holly gasped. ‘Not the décor, you know you love it. You always get snarky when you don’t like the question. Answer me, what do you think of Luke?’

  Rebecca thought of the drunk, tormented man who urinated willy-nilly in her flat, and the man who took charge last night and carried her fireman-style to her bedroom. She hadn’t told her any of that, about their knees touching and flirting with each other, or about her sniffing his aftershave bottle in the bathroom that morning, like some sniffing weirdo.

  ‘I don’t think anything about Luke, I’m doing it as a favour to you and Hans. How does Hans know him anyway?’ Deflection. Winning.

  Holly patted her bump, giving her a sly look.

  ‘Hey, little one in there, that’s your Auntie Rebecca, avoiding the question again. Don’t you let her do that to you, little peanut. Just like your mum doesn’t.’ She pretended to listen to her unborn child, who was visibly kicking now. Little cherub … Auntie Rebecca needs to teach you how bloody pushy your mother is.

  ‘What’s that now? Auntie, cut the shit?’ Holly pretended to listen again, nodding along to nothing. ‘Well, the language is something I don’t like, but nice work kid.’ Holly looked at Rebecca, giving her bump an attaboy pat. ‘Spill. What do you think?’

  ‘He’s okay. Hot, I’ll give you, but he’s got stuff going on. He’s a bit clumsy too, like a baby lamb.’

  ‘He is a baby lamb! Hans loves him though, he’s a great guy. Hans has been trying to get him to come here for years, so it’s a big thing for him. For them both, really.’ She fell silent then, and given the fact that she hadn’t stopped yakking since Rebecca had arrived, she noticed.

  ‘So why did he come?’

  ‘Because Hans invited him, and he needed to get away. He’s got a project going on. Your turn.’

  Rebecca drained her cup, putting it down on the large glass coffee table in front of her. She noticed that there were little rubber stoppers on the corners already. ‘Hans?’ she asked, and Holly nodded.

  ‘I almost murdered him with a dessert spoon yesterday. He went to the shops and I couldn’t get the ice cream out of the freezer. Child locks! He’s going to be a nervous wreck at the birth. You need to be there, I keep telling you.’

  Rebecca could tell her lips had pulled back tight, she could feel the breeze around her exposed gums. ‘Rebecca! Stop pulling faces, it’s childbirth! It’s a wonderful thing.’

  ‘It is not,’ Rebecca retorted. ‘It’s noisy and messy and bloody, and scream-filled rooms are not my forte.’

  Holly humphed. ‘If you don’t answer your phone, I will let Hans carry out his placenta tree idea, and make you come watch the planting. When I am ready to pop this huge Swedish baby out, that will probably be the size of a ruddy Viking, I want you there to tell Hans off, and to stop me from showing myself up.’

  ‘Pooping yourself more like,’ Rebecca grimaced. ‘My mother did, Dad told me. She shat all over the table and the midwife. He used to laugh about it when he was drunk at Christmas.’

  A cushion whizzed towards her, clocking her square in the face.

  ‘Stop it, you horrible, horrible friend! Tell me whether you fancy Luke or not!’

  ‘No!’

  ‘Why not? You just told me about your own birth! I have visions of your mother in the throes of pushing now! Tell me!’

  ‘No!’

  ‘You so do.’

  ‘I don’t.’ Another cushion came to see its mate, clocking her on the cheek this time as she half dodged it. ‘Argh, that was the zip, you cow!’

  ‘Aww, zip smip. Admit it, he’s more than hot. He’s single, a nice guy, has a good job, uses his brain.’

  ‘Wow, take me now. Most people have most of those things, you know. I don’t date anyway, so it’s irrelevant. What’s going on with him anyway? Why does Hans feel the need to help him? He’s not a skier, is he? Where did they even meet, if Luke’s never been further than the end of his street?’

  Holly pulled herself up using the larger back cushions.

  ‘You need some help?’

  ‘Yeah,’ she puffed. ‘Bit late though. You could have told me copping off with a giant would end up with me birthing what feels like a teenager.’ She punched the cushions behind her, settling in again. ‘I’m bored, so I’ll play. Luke has been Hans’s friend for years. Hans went over to the UK on a school exchange, but Luke never came over here to visit. His family situation is a little complicated, so him being here, getting on a plane … It’s big. It means a lot to Hans, and Luke has something to do here too. He wants to ski, and enter one of the novice competitions.’

  Rebecca didn’t say anything for a moment. She just sat there, processing the information. ‘Ski? Luke? He’ll break his blessed neck on the nursery slopes.’

  Images of him dancing in the kitchen cooking sprang to mind. She hadn’t caught him yet, but she could tell he wasn’t moving around like a normal person would.

  ‘Does Hans know he’s a clumsy oaf? He’s basically Mr Magoo. Mr Hot Magoo. It’s a fool’s errand.’

  ‘Care, do you?’ Holly waggled her blonde eyebrows, giggling again.

  ‘No. But if he smacks headfirst into a barrier, wh
ere will he stay, eh?’ She waved her arms around her like a preacher delivering a sermon. ‘He can’t live here.’ She nodded to the coffee table, the art books and the latest thriller of Hans’s open on the glass surface. ‘You’d have to bubble wrap the place.’

  Holly looked around her. ‘He won’t need to come here. He’s got a room, with you. I have a nurse’s outfit in the closet. I won’t need it for a while. Hans has a doctor outfit too, but I doubt Luke will fit it.’

  ‘Eugh!’ Rebecca got up, taking that gross image into the dark depths of her mind and dousing it in acid for good measure. ‘That’s my cue to leave. I’ll speak to Hans myself. You need anything from the shops?’

  Holly shook her head. ‘Unless you can get me a waistline, I’m good here. Netflix is babysitting me.’

  Rebecca squashed her friend in a hug, not letting her get up. She looked tired, and comfy where she was. Pulling a throw off the back of the sofa, she covered her friend’s legs and raised her legs up onto a cushion. ‘Good, stay put. Love you.’

  ‘Love you,’ Holly smiled at her, remote in hand now. ‘Now go get that stud muffin.’

  Rebecca could hear her friend’s laughter even after she closed the front door. The woman was a huge pain in the posterior. Saturday was going to be bloody awful, and she still had to brave the shops. It wasn’t till she’d left Holly’s that she realised, she hadn’t asked Holly about Saturday at all.

  Chapter 6

  Luke finished the last of his calls and headed to the kitchen to make himself a drink. He’d been talking for so long, his mouth was as dry as the bottom of a parrot’s cage. He sounded like James Earl Jones. He was still feeling a bit tired and hungover, and his clients hadn’t taken it easy on him. He’d realised over the last few days just how accessible he’d been to them in the past. Call me any time was not manageable here, with all the upheaval. Plus, being a houseguest made him hyper aware of all his actions. He’d already trashed most of her gaff, and made a tit of himself more times than he wanted to think about too. Looking around the neat kitchen, he tidied away the dishes from the other night, flicking on some music to work to. Then he made a coffee, put some toast under the grill and hunted in the fridge for the cheese he’d bought. It was still there untouched, amongst the wine, fresh vegetables, and fruit. For a baker, she ate like an athlete. She’d still ripped into his steak though. It was nice to see a fellow carnivore enjoy a meal. Luke always loved his steak and pint nights with his dad down at the pub every Wednesday. The pair of them would never miss a week for the world. Till now. Today was Wednesday, and for the first time in their relationship, they weren’t even speaking.

  His dad had never pushed him away like that before. The fact that he’d had a stroke at the wheel and survived a car crash barely intact was bad enough. They’d had to cut him out of his car, and he knew how his dad would have felt about that. He hated people hovering around him and never wanted a fuss – he was a proud man. But that moment in the hospital room had tipped Luke over the edge. He could see that he was the cause of his father’s distressed state. Although he couldn’t so much as utter two coherent words, there was no mistaking the cold look in his eye that shattered Luke’s heart into two. He just didn’t know why his dad had turned like that. It was the two of them against the world normally. The two Musketeers. All for one and all that.

  That first night sleeping in Dad’s house alone had been the worst night of his existence. Even losing his mum didn’t match it. He was so young when she passed, he just didn’t have the same bond that he did with the parent who had raised him single-handed. His mother was a photo in a frame, an abstract idea rather than a tangible person. He and his father had done just fine though. They were the ultimate team, always had been. It was why he’d stayed at home for so long. He was happy with his dad, and his dad lived for him.

  When he’d turned his key in the lock of his childhood home, there was no life within. No buzz of the sport on the telly. No Dad shouting ‘that you, lad?’ like he always did. As though they had loads of visitors. It always made him chuckle, and he missed it now. He might never hear that action again. This family home had no family left in it now. Just memories and the settling dust.

  Plodding up towards his dad’s office, he opened the door and got to work. His father’s care would need to be looked after, and Luke knew his dad had always been a saver. There were no money worries, but he wanted to check his dad’s policy, see what healthcare they could get covered without Dad’s nest egg being used. One look at the staircase in the hall told Luke that things would need to change around here too. His dad had been pretty much resistant to everything done to help him at the hospital, and not only that, he was mean too. Angry. Frustrated. All things that Luke had never seen in his dad before now. He was … well, just Dad. Happy. Cautious. Predictable.

  Opening his father’s filing cabinet, he was presented with their whole life. It was divided into files, all colour-coordinated with labels like TV LICENCE and CAR PAPERWORK. Luke’s heart clenched when he saw his dad’s handwriting on the labels. Would he ever sign his name again? Right now, he was so angry and deflated, he wouldn’t even try. The doctors had spelled out how hard Frank’s fight would be, and how much worse it could have been. How crashing his car brought people running to his side straight away. They’d spotted the signs, got him to hospital. He had every chance of recovering.

  That was day one.

  When Frank finally came to, the man Luke called Dad looked like a different person. Acted like one too. Luke understood, it was a lot. He’d been struggling with the news himself, but this was different. It was like the light went out in his father that day, and his dad seemed intent on smashing every bulb they tried to turn back on. When he’d kicked him out of the place, the nurses all giving him sympathetic looks as he passed them, Luke had sat in his car in the half empty car park and cried, hidden by the dark of the night around him. He felt like little orphan Annie, adrift without a responsible adult to hand. He needed to get his dad back, and fast.

  Looking through the labels, he saw what he was looking for: INSURANCE. He reached for it, but in between the suspension file and the back of the cabinet was another file, hidden away. The label was tatty, faded and not written in his father’s scrawl. Luke recognised the style though. The looping S’s and Y’s. His mother had written SOMEDAY on the label. Pulling out the two files, he went and sat at his dad’s desk. He was long retired now, but still sat in here every day. Filing his post, writing to friends, talking to the birds that he fed from his windowsill every day. There were none there now, but he wondered how many mornings the birds would come to the window, looking for Frank. Luke pushed the thicker insurance file to one side, and slowly opened the Someday folder.

  In it were clippings of holiday destinations, ideas for family days out in zoos, theme parks, anything that might take a person’s fancy. There were gardening ideas too, home décor. Kids games. Blue Peter crafting and sticking. Some of the photos Luke recognised, they were replicated from his childhood. He could still remember helping his dad. When he was old enough to hold a hammer, he was eager to be like him, do things together. Cutting all the wood for the sleepers, the pair of them painting them together in the sunshine with large glasses of pop filled with ice. He remembered the zoo days, the aquarium visits, the camping trips they shared. Man and boy, under the stars. He kept flicking through, realising that his mother had made plans for their lives together, their little family, but they never got to do any of it.

  But his dad did. The articles and clippings, notes from his mum, notes with his own scrawl on, he’d kept it going. Adding to it, ticking off the ones they had done. He welled up when he saw the next one. His mum had written on one of the photos, a picture of the French Alps. In the sky, in blue pen, she’d written: Skiing holidays for the whole family! Can’t wait to tick this one off!

  A tear slid down Luke’s cheek as he read his mother’s wishes, over and over. Stuff they had done, and many more they hadn’t. The
more daring stuff didn’t have a tick anywhere. His dad had lost his mojo it seemed when it came to finishing the list. Maybe it was a bit too adventurous for Dad. He was a homebody, and he didn’t even watch the news anymore because it freaked him out so much. Luke had heard from family members how bubbly his mother was, full of life, daring. She drew the shyness out of her husband, just as much as he was the calm to her storm. And then the storm died out, and the landscape of their lives changed forever.

  ‘Oh Dad,’ Luke sobbed, closing the file and tucking both under his arm. The next morning, when he went home to his empty flat, the first thing he noticed was the invite from Hans, his longtime friend. Inviting him to come and stay in the French Alps, to share in the joy of Hans and Holly’s first child. He’d never met Holly properly. FaceTime wasn’t the same. He’d already bought the card to send with his regrets over not being able to make the trip out there, but looking at it now, something clicked. Rushing to the hallway to grab the files from his bag, he chucked the insurance folder on the kitchen countertop and rummaged in the ‘Someday’ folder for what he was looking for.

  A second later, he was dialling.

  ‘Lukie boy! How are you? Calling to tell me you are snubbing my unborn child for another week sat in front of a screen like a pasty loser, yeah?’

  Luke smiled, the first hint of adrenalin running through his veins.

  ‘Not quite, mate. Not quite. Listen, you got a minute? Something’s happened, and I need your help.’

  *

  Hans had already been up and popped his head around the door like a giant bouncing ginger Tigger. He bounced around for a while, mooned Luke whilst he was on a conference call, and then headed back downstairs to work. No mention of Rebecca, or where she was, but he did raise his eyebrows at the sofa. Luke had almost opened his mouth to tell Hans about the planned joint purchase, but he realised just in time how weird it sounded. It sounded odd, that he would end up owning half a sofa, with a girl who baked in the Alps. It sounded odd to a normal person, let alone someone with Luke’s highlight reel. He hadn’t exactly been adventurous, prior to this lunacy abroad.