A Dozen Second Chances (ARC)

by Kate Scholefield

  rolled off him, and I felt terrible that I had done this to him. But when it came to it, I couldn’t

  do anything else. I couldn’t lie to the two people I loved best in the world, even if it would

  have been for their good; I couldn’t survive a lifetime of deceit, with the constant worry of

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  being found out. And I understood now, more than I had before, why Paddy had left us all

  those years ago. Not why he hadn’t told me the truth in the first place – of course, he should

  have done that – but why, having decided against that course, he couldn’t stay with us and

  maintain a pretence.

  ‘Are you sure?’ Paddy asked. ‘There can’t be any doubt?’

  ‘No. Look.’ I had the letter in my bag, and passed it to him. He withdrew his hand from

  mine and read it. The emotions trampled across his face: sadness, resignation, acceptance,

  annoyance. He tossed the note on to the table.

  ‘Do you know who it is? This M?’

  I shook my head.

  ‘Jeez, what a …’ He cut off the word, but his expression finished the sentence for him.

  ‘She’d have been better with me as a father, wouldn’t she? I know I’ve not been perfect, but

  this …’ He shook his head. ‘This jerk doesn’t deserve a daughter like her. I would have done

  my best for her, you know?’

  I nodded. I did know. I’d seen how he looked after his parents, and couldn’t doubt that

  he would look after a child just as well. Finding out about Faye and Paddy had been a shock;

  the revelation that he had left Caitlyn, knowing she might be his child, had devastated me all

  over again; but I’d had plenty of time to think about it, without bias this time, and I truly

  believed that he was a different man now. Looking across the table at him, seeing the tears of

  disappointment in his eyes, I couldn’t help wishing with all my heart that Caitlyn had been his

  daughter.

  ‘Imagine if you’d found this note before – if you’d traced him after Faye died. Caitlyn

  could have been brought up by this tosser. She was better off with you.’ He picked up his glass

  and drained it. ‘Did you ever regret it? The decision to bring her up?’

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  ‘No.’ The answer was automatic. It was the one I had always given. But as I looked

  across at Paddy, literally confronted by the future I might have had, I couldn’t avoid digging

  deeper at last. What would have happened, if I’d let Caitlyn stay with Mum – or let her be

  adopted, another option we were offered at the time? I might have had a career in archaeology;

  I might have married Paddy; I might have been divorced from Paddy by now; I might have had

  children of my own. And yes, if I was entirely honest, perhaps there had been some moments

  of regret. But none of these nebulous futures could compare with the real satisfaction of the

  past: of having kept Caitlyn safe and happy, of having helped her to be the amazing young

  woman she unquestionably was.

  ‘I don’t regret it,’ I said. ‘Even with hindsight, I would make the same decision again.’

  I had never felt it with such certainty. A strange peace settled over me, seeping deep into my

  bones. It wasn’t guilt over my part in Faye’s death that had prompted me to look after Caitlyn;

  I was ready to see that now. It had been an act of love. I would never have done anything

  different; if Faye had been killed in a car crash, through no fault of mine, I would have taken

  Caitlyn in just the same. And in making peace with the past, I laid down a foundation for the

  future – whatever that might look like.

  ‘You loved her more than me,’ Paddy said.

  I wasn’t sure if it was a question or a statement, but I answered it anyway.

  ‘Yes, I did.’ When he’d left, I hadn’t – even in the darkest moments of misery –

  considered giving up Caitlyn to persuade him to stay. ‘It turned out for the best, though, didn’t

  it? You were able to go on and have an amazing career. We can both look back and be proud

  of what we’ve achieved.’

  I clutched my glass. Would he deny it? I’d left the door of our future relationship ajar

  – would he close it or force it wide open again? The birthday present he had given me tonight

  had stirred my hope back to life, but I needed to know what this summer had truly been about.

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  Had it been about me, or about Caitlyn? He stared into his glass and I had no idea what he was

  thinking. At last he raised his head and his brown eyes looked almost black in the dim light of

  the bar.

  ‘Turned out for the best,’ he repeated. ‘It’s hard to feel that way tonight.’ He sighed,

  and flicked at the note from Caitlyn’s father that still lay on the table between us. ‘So that’s it,

  then.’

  And there was the answer to my question. He was thinking about Caitlyn, not me. Hope

  died.

  ‘Yes, I guess that’s it.’ I stood up, clutching my handbag to my chest, feeling absurdly

  overdressed in my expensive frock for being effectively dumped in my local pub. ‘It’s been

  good seeing you again. Take care.’

  I walked out of the bar, without looking back.

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  CHAPTER 26

  Mum, Caitlyn and Luc stayed for the rest of the week, and it was one of the happiest weeks I

  could remember us spending together; we bonded and enjoyed each other’s company more

  than ever before, and we even persuaded Gran to squeeze into the car and join us on a day trip

  to Lake Windermere. The time for their flights home came round far too soon.

  ‘Will you be seeing more of Paddy?’ Mum asked out of the blue, as I helped her pack

  her suitcase. She didn’t need my help, but I needed to give it – wanted to spend these extra few

  minutes with her. This was a fresh start – we had already made plans for much more frequent

  visits between Lancashire and the Costa Brava in future. ‘He’s grown up, hasn’t he? More

  thoughtful than he was.’

  I nodded, relieved she hadn’t called him ‘sensible’. That would have shattered his sexy

  image – not that I had been thinking of his sexiness. Or of him at all. It was over – whatever it

  had been – he had made that clear in The White Hart, and his silence since then had confirmed

  it. Perhaps he had felt a twinge of nostalgic passion towards me – the sex in Paris had felt real

  enough – but his frequent visits to Inglebridge over the last months had been in search of

  fatherhood, not romance. And I was fine with that, or I would be, soon enough. I’d embraced

  the independent life for years, and felt no qualms about carrying on with it if I had to. This year

  had given me more than I could ever have anticipated: a new job in the field I loved, which

  would be starting in a few weeks; more cash in the bank than I had ever had before; seeing

  Caitlyn’s blossoming independence; and a rebooted relationship with Mum. Who needed

  romance?

  ‘There’s no reason to see him,’ I answered Mum at last, trying to squeeze her

  extraordinary amount of make-up back into her cosmetic bag. ‘He made contact to find out

  about Caitlyn, that’s all.’

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  ‘I always liked him,’ Mum said, completely ignoring me. ‘So did your dad. We could

  see that he made you happy. That’s all we could have asked for.’

  I understood that; I could see how happy Luc made Caitlyn. I wondered where this

  sudden show of support for Paddy had come from. It was too late anyway. What was the use

  of my family loving him now?

  ‘Perhaps he lacked a bit of backbone when he was young,’ Mum continued, apparently

  not having tired of the subject yet. ‘But I believe he’s found it now. He was willing to step up

  for Caitlyn – and just think, if that story had got into the press, it wouldn’t have reflected well

  on him. You have to give him credit for that.’

  I did – and for the way he looked after his mum. There was no doubt in my mind that

  Paddy was a far better person than he had been as a boy. He wouldn’t bail out now, if life threw

  adversity his way. And I hoped I was a better person too. I’d spent a lot of time thinking about

  this recently, since Paris, and since my conversation with Mum about my part in Faye’s death.

  Paddy and I had both made impulsive mistakes in our youth, but my mistake – losing my

  temper with Faye, rather than supporting her – had had much more serious consequences than

  his. Mum had forgiven me, so how could I not try to forgive Paddy? But it didn’t matter. He

  wasn’t interested in whether I forgave him or not. At least I could look back on the years we

  had spent together and remember the happy times now, without bitterness.

  It was another difficult parting from Caitlyn. Who knew when she would be back? Her

  plans for Christmas were still uncertain, and I wouldn’t be surprised if she chose to spend it

  with Luc rather than me. He tactfully waited in the taxi with Mum, while we said our goodbyes.

  ‘You are happy in Paris, aren’t you?’ I asked, although I could hardly doubt the answer.

  ‘I’m loving it,’ she said. ‘But I don’t think I’ll stay when the year’s contract is up.’

  ‘You might come home?’ I couldn’t keep the hope from my voice.

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  ‘No, we’re thinking we might go travelling. Have a late gap year. It’s hard work looking

  after someone else’s children, even when you’re being paid for it. I could never have done what

  you did for me.’

  ‘Of course you could,’ I replied, but my words were muffled as she threw herself on

  me in a hug in which we seemed to compete for who could squeeze the most love into it.

  ‘You know,’ she said, as she extricated herself at last and dragged her case out of the

  house, ‘you did better with the “Be Kind to Yourself” vouchers than I thought you would. But

  you’ve got to keep it up. It’s your turn to have fun now – and you don’t need to tell me about

  it, so you can do whatever you want, with whomever you choose. As long as you’re happy. It

  was never supposed to be limited to the number of vouchers I made. It’s a way of life.’

  I smiled. The sun bounced off her hair, and she looked so like Faye that I could have

  cried; but she was good and kind, in a way that I had to accept Faye hadn’t always been. I

  couldn’t have been more proud of her.

  ‘Who made you so wise?’ I asked.

  She grinned. ‘You did. Love you, Mum!’ she called, and after one final squeeze, she

  dragged her case down the drive, heading back to her new life. I watched her go, with tears

  rolling down my cheeks, waving until the taxi disappeared from sight.

  *

  Life rolled on. The school term started without me, and Tina regaled me with tales about the

  wonderful new school head, and speculated about the mysterious disappearance of Jo Blair.

  My new job wasn’t due to start until October, but I was keeping busy by going through an

  archive of archaeology journals, and had joined the local archaeology group whose existence I

  had ignored for too long. They were about to finish excavations for the season, but I was

  enjoying getting involved with planning digs for next year.

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  Almost two weeks after my birthday meal, my phone rang, and Paddy’s name

  unexpectedly flashed up on the screen. I hadn’t expected to hear from him again, and none of

  my fine words about the joy of being independent could prevent my heart picking up speed at

  the sight of his name.

  ‘How’re you doing, Eve?’ he asked, and the warmth in his voice felt like putting on a

  cosy jumper on a cold day. ‘Short notice, I know, but I wondered if you had plans for the

  weekend?’

  ‘Which day?’ I asked, my heart close to racing as I wondered what this was about. ‘I’m

  busy on Sunday afternoon.’

  ‘Ah, visiting Phyllis. I wouldn’t dare get in the way of that. I’m easy, so what about

  tomorrow?’

  ‘Yes, I can manage that.’

  ‘Great. I’ll pick you up at ten. Wear your digging clothes, and bring your pack.’

  ‘We’re going on a dig?’

  ‘You don’t mind, do you? We’ve been analysing the finds from the test trenches up

  your way, and I want to go back and check something out before they’re covered over for

  winter. My assistant has just bailed, and I thought you’d be the perfect person for the job.’

  The job. My heart slowed right down to a first-gear crawl. He wanted me to stand in

  for his assistant, that was all. What had I expected? That he was inviting me out on a date?

  Thank God I hadn’t let that idea slip …

  Paddy’s car pulled up just before ten the next morning, and I was halfway down the

  drive before he’d stopped the car. This was work, I reminded myself, as I slipped into the

  passenger seat beside him. I was dressed for work, in my old jeans, boots and fleece, and with

  tinted moisturiser my only nod to personal grooming. Of course, Paddy still managed to look

  ready for a magazine spread even in his work clothes.

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  As he drove out of town, he told me more about what they had found on the bowl

  barrow site. It appeared that there might be a whole series of barrows, although not as well

  preserved as the one we had initially seen from our picnic on the hill. A few pieces of pottery

  and jewellery had been found, and a fragment of a bronze knife. There was enough to justify a

  full excavation, which would be filmed for Travels Through Time next year. It was great news

  for Inglebridge: the production itself would bring welcome business, and hopefully the

  publicity when the show was aired might tempt more tourists here too.

  The dig site was in a field a couple of miles south of town, and three trenches, each

  approximately two metres long, had been dug in various parts of the field. Paddy allocated one

  trench to me and left me to it, with vague instructions to see what I could find, while he worked

  on the one furthest away. It wasn’t how I’d anticipated the day would go – he was too far away

  for conversation – but I was soon too engrossed in the task to notice what he was up to, and it

  was a surprise when a shadow fell across my trench and I looked up to find Paddy standing

  above me, the early autumn sun making a halo around his body.

  ‘Lunch break,’ he said, and held out his
hands to hoist me out of the trench. My lower

  legs had gone numb with kneeling on them for so long, and I wobbled as I climbed back out

  into the field.

  ‘Are the old legs not what they were?’ he said, putting his hands on my shoulders to

  steady me. ‘Strange. They looked in pretty good shape in that dress the other night. You always

  did suit blue.’

  ‘I thought we were here to rake through more interesting history than ours,’ I said,

  shaking myself free; the warmth of his hands and his gaze were bringing back memories of

  Paris that I shouldn’t still be cherishing.

  ‘Quite right. I don’t want to dwell on our past either. Did you find much?’

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  ‘A few bits of pottery and stone.’ I pointed at the plastic tray beside my trench. ‘Nothing

  of real interest. I don’t think we’ve gone far enough down yet.’

  ‘Try the other trench after lunch. You might have more luck there.’

  He led the way back to the car, and we sat perched on the open boot, our legs dangling,

  while Paddy produced a proper old-fashioned wicker picnic basket.

  ‘Only the best for your assistants?’ I asked, as he lifted the lid and revealed the full set

  of wine glasses and china plates, along with various intriguing parcels and boxes of food.

  ‘Only the best for you,’ he said, and I sat in speechless wonder as he poured me a glass

  of sparkling elderflower pressé, and unwrapped a selection of healthy snacks that even in my

  most zealous mood I couldn’t possibly object to: individual pots of tomato and carrot salad,

  mini spinach and cottage cheese frittatas, salmon bagels, vegetables with a hummus dip … It

  was a feast, enough to feed at least a family of four.

  ‘What are you having?’ I asked. This wasn’t Paddy food. ‘Do you have a sausage

  sandwich hidden away somewhere?’

  ‘I thought I’d give all this a try,’ he said, with an unconvincing smile that made me

  laugh. ‘And if I do, I deserve this, right?’ He opened the final box to reveal two chocolate