The Difference a Day Makes

by Carole Matthews

  He’d tried for years to pretend that it didn’t really matter. Now, he had to acknowledge that it did.

  It had been a very strange day in many ways. He’d done a lot of things that he hadn’t ever expected to be doing – paying out for a new lawn and extensive repairs on a Mercedes being among them. But who’d have thought that he would have got on quite so well with Amy’s children. Okay, her dastardly dog might have done more than enough damage to counter their excellent behaviour, but he’d really enjoyed being with them. Even more worrying, it had made him consider whether the bachelor lifestyle really suited him after all. Wasn’t this a rut he’d just slipped into? Wasn’t it easier to submerge himself in the world of cats, dogs and farm animals than to form meaningful relationships with human beings? Did one relationship disaster mean that he shouldn’t ever try again? In trying to protect himself from hurt, had he simply denied himself the chance of happiness?

  Yet look at what had happened when he’d made his first clumsy attempts to try to integrate himself into Amy’s family. Complete cock-up! She’d made it perfectly clear that she didn’t want him having anything more to do with her. And that was fine.

  Except it wasn’t really. The reason he’d thrown a passable bottle of red down his neck without tasting it was that it did matter to him whether he saw Amy again or not. It did matter that he wouldn’t now be able to take the kids horse riding or hiking or to Poppy’s to fill them up with calorie-laden treats and hear them laugh and squabble and tell him stories.

  He should make an effort to meet someone else, think about settling down, perhaps have a few children of his own. Was it so wrong to do that by retracing old ground? Perhaps he and Laura could simply pick up where they’d left off. He’d loved her once. Loved her enough to want to make her his wife – and that hadn’t happened with anyone else since. Well, that is until he’d met Amy Ashurst.

  Amy still loved her husband and that was how it should be. Soon she was going to be moving back to London and out of his life. He would get over her. He was sure he would. It wasn’t any use if only one of them could see that they potentially could have a great future together.

  Guy sighed to himself. How long did the grieving process take? Hadn’t it taken him years to get over Laura? The sound of her voice on his answerphone had still sent shards of ice to his stomach. And she hadn’t died, she’d just buggered off with his best mate. When would Amy be ready to consider another relationship? Next year? The year after? Sometime maybe never. Could he ever even begin to compete with William Ashurst or his ghost?

  Guy wasn’t getting any younger and now that he’d had this epiphany, he wanted to take some positive steps to changing his life around. If Amy wasn’t available, then he’d try his luck with someone who’d made it clear that she was.

  Laura answered the phone before he had the chance to further consider the wisdom of his actions.

  ‘Hello,’ she said, sounding sleepy.

  His heart flipped, spinning back five years, as he heard the familiar tones. ‘I hope this isn’t a bad time to call,’ he said awkwardly.

  ‘Guy?’ She gave a delighted little laugh and his heart somersaulted again. ‘I never thought that you’d return my call.’

  And he realised that this probably wasn’t the right moment to say that he never thought he would either.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  ‘Is it still the weekend?’ Jessica wants to know.

  ‘No, darling.’ At least, I don’t think it is.

  ‘Are we on holiday?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Then why aren’t we at school?’ my daughter wants to know. ‘We’re learning about a boy who gets his head cut off and is made into an elephant.’

  ‘Ganesh,’ my son supplies. ‘We did that yonks ago.’

  Jessica looks miffed that Tom is better informed than her when it comes to Hindu gods. My son comes over to the table gingerly carrying a bowl of cereal which he puts down in front of me.

  ‘I brought you some Cocoa-pops, Mummy.’

  ‘Thank you,’ I say, and push the bowl away to join the cup of tea that Tom has previously made me.

  ‘Hamish is hungry too,’ Tom says anxiously with a glance at the dog who’s flat out on the floor and currently looks like he’s trying to chew off one of his own feet. ‘Should I give him some breakfast?’

  ‘I’ll do it later.’

  ‘You said that yesterday, Mummy, and I don’t think that you did.’ Even in this state I can see that Tom and Jessica exchange a worried glance. But there’s nothing for them to worry about. Really there isn’t. I’ll sort it all out.

  ‘Mummy will do it,’ I insist. ‘Mummy does everything.’

  It’s nearly noon and we’re all still here in our dressing-gowns. Is that such a bad thing though? Does anyone really care? Has anyone missed us?

  Actually, I think Mrs Barnsley phoned yesterday to find out why the children weren’t at school, but I can’t remember what I told her. Or maybe she just left a message on the answerphone. I don’t know.

  Jessica’s hair looks like a bird’s nest and I should tell her to comb it or do it for her. My own hair probably looks the same. Who cares? I’m not sure that any of us has washed either. When did I last go in the shower? Perhaps if I did, it would make me feel better.

  ‘Mummy.’ Tom interrupts my train of thought. ‘No one’s feeding the chickens and the sheep. Or Stephanie and Blob.’

  ‘I’ll do that later too.’

  ‘If you tell me what to do,’ my son says, ‘I can do it for you.’

  ‘There’s no need, really. I’ll see to it.’

  Hamish starts to bark and I hear a car crunch into the drive and it rouses me. Who would be calling here? A moment later and there’s a knock at the kitchen door.

  ‘Who can this be?’

  ‘I’ll go, Mummy,’ Tom says.

  ‘No, no.’ I lift a hand and haul myself to my feet. ‘Leave it to me.’

  At the door there’s a smartly dressed couple.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘We’re Mr and Mrs Johnson. We’re here to look at the house,’ they tell me.

  My eyes widen in surprise. ‘Now?’

  They turn to each other for confirmation, before saying, ‘The estate agent told us he’d called you yesterday to make an appointment.’

  ‘Did he?’ Funny, I have no recollection of that.

  The Johnsons take in my grubby pyjamas. ‘Is this a good time?’

  ‘Perfect,’ I say and let them in.

  ‘We can come back.’

  ‘No, no,’ I assure them. ‘Let’s do it. I want to get this damn place sold.’

  They look slightly taken aback at that. But it’s the truth. The sooner I get out of here, the better.

  ‘There are sheep in the drive,’ Mr Johnson tells me.

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Three of them,’ he says.

  ‘That’s Daphne, Doris and Delila,’ Tom tells them. ‘They should be in the field.’

  ‘I’ll sort it out later,’ I say dismissively. ‘Come in, come in.’

  Mr and Mrs Johnson check with each other again and then step inside.

  ‘This is the kitchen.’ I wave my arm around. ‘But then you can tell that. What a dump, eh?’

  The Johnsons recoil slightly. ‘It certainly needs a little refurbishment,’ Mr Johnson ventures politely.

  ‘Needs a bloody torch to it,’ I say with a bitter laugh.

  ‘I’m supposed to be at school,’ Jessica tells Mrs Johnson. ‘But I’m not.’

  I look at my children and suddenly realise how scruffy they must look. As soon as the Johnsons have gone, I must do something about it.

  ‘Come and see the living room,’ I say, and usher them through the door. Every time I come in here I think I see Will lying on the sofa. Sometimes I think I could actually reach out and touch him. My arm stretches out in front of me. Then I notice what I’m doing and I blink away the image. The living room – a poor choice of name as to me it
feels dead, dead, dead – is empty now. As empty as it always is. ‘This has a lovely view over the garden. Marvellous. Bloody marvellous.’ I just feel so exhausted, I wish they’d hurry up, buy the bloody house and bugger off.

  ‘Are you quite all right, Mrs Ashurst?’ Mrs Johnson asks.

  ‘What?’

  ‘You look very . . .’ she searches for the right word ‘. . . tired.’

  ‘Tired?’ I start to laugh. Is that what I am? I laugh some more. ‘Tired?’ Then I sink to my knees on the living-room floor. ‘Yes,’ I say. Now I’m not sure if I’m laughing or crying. ‘I’m so very tired.’ I lie on the floor. ‘I’m so sorry. I just can’t do this. I really can’t.’ Then I curl up into a ball and I cry and cry and cry.

  ‘Mummy.’ I hear Tom’s anxious voice by my ear. ‘Mummy, get up.’

  Mrs Johnson crouches next to him. ‘I don’t think that your mummy is very well, sweetheart. Is there anyone that you can ring to help?’

  ‘Yes,’ I hear Tom say. ‘I’ll call the vet.’

  Chapter Forty-Six

  ‘Mrs Tilsley said she’d seen you with a dark-haired woman in the front seat of your car.’ Cheryl folded her arms as she delivered that nugget of information, the day’s appointment book forgotten. His receptionist had redone her fake tan and, this morning, she was an alarming shade of Paris Hilton orange.

  ‘Did she.’

  ‘She said you were up by the Bainbridges’ place.’

  ‘Really.’

  Cheryl wore a smug expression. ‘I know it wasn’t the lovely Mrs Ashurst because she was in London that day.’

  ‘When you next see Mrs Tilsley,’ Guy said with a smile, ‘you might want to tell her to pay a visit to Ogilvy’s Opticians.’

  Cheryl looked at him quizzically.

  ‘That wasn’t a dark-haired woman,’ he finally told her with a sigh as he leaned on the desk. ‘It was Amy Ashurst’s dog, Hamish.’

  Cheryl tutted. ‘Damn,’ she said. ‘I thought I’d caught you out there.’

  ‘No such luck.’

  His good friend puffed unhappily.

  ‘If Mrs Tilsley said that my date looked like a bit of a dog, it was because my date was actually a dog.’

  ‘You have very little fun in your life, Guy,’ Cheryl complained.

  ‘Tell me about it.’

  ‘Why don’t I fix you up with one of my friends?’

  ‘No, thanks.’

  ‘It’s not good for a man to live alone.’ He wasn’t about to confess to Cheryl that he’d recently come to that conclusion himself. It would be round Scarsby before lunchtime and he’d never be able to lift his head in Poppy’s Tea Room again.

  ‘I’m not the dating kind,’ he insisted.

  ‘That’s because you don’t make any effort. You could be quite presentable if only you’d shape yourself.’

  Guy laughed at that. ‘Is there much in the book today?’ he asked, in an attempt to change the tack of the conversation and drag it firmly back to the realms of work. He’d already finished his morning calls and there’d been no emergencies as yet. But the day was still young.

  ‘Standard stuff,’ Cheryl said. ‘Bitch to be spayed. Collie with an arthritic hip. Yada, yada.’

  ‘What time’s the first appointment?’

  ‘Not until two o’clock.’

  ‘I’ll go and get a sandwich now, then I’ve got some stuff to sort out in the practice. I need to look at our patients too.’ In the cages in the surgery there were a number of in-patients, all of whom needed his attention.

  ‘Think about what I said about seeing one of my friends,’ Cheryl said to his retreating back. ‘I’m sure there’d be one or two willing ladies.’

  He didn’t like to tell her that he might have found a willing woman of his own. That would save for another day. For now – briefly, he knew – it would remain his little secret.

  He was about to go out of the door when his mobile rang.

  ‘Uncle Guy?’ Tom’s voice said. The boy sounded worried.

  Guy felt his blood run cold. ‘What’s wrong, Tom?’

  ‘Can you come and see Mummy please.’ He sounded like he was crying. ‘She’s not very well.’

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Guy hands me a plate of hot buttered toast and a mug of steaming tea and we sit in my draughty, depressing kitchen together.

  ‘I don’t know what happened,’ I say, hanging my head. ‘I lost it completely.’

  ‘It’s hardly surprising,’ Guys says sympathetically.

  ‘I can’t even blame it on Hamish this time that I’ve lost another potential buyer for my house.’ Having given Guy the customary greeting of nose in the nether regions, the dog now thumps his tail happily on the floor at the mere mention of his name. ‘This one I cocked up all by myself.’

  ‘You’re being very hard on yourself, Amy.’

  ‘Not hard enough,’ I correct. ‘How could I have let myself go like that? What about the kids? How can I have neglected them so badly?’

  ‘It was for a few days,’ he says. ‘A minor aberration.’

  As soon as Guy arrived, he took the situation in hand. The children were sent upstairs to shower and get themselves ready for school. I watched as Guy straightened Tom’s collar and tenderly combed Jessica’s hair and I wept.

  The minute they’d left, Guy ordered me into a hot bath and told me to stay there while he made me something to eat. Now I’m dressed, hair freshly washed, and am feeling distinctly more human. I’ve even put on some mascara.

  ‘The animals haven’t been fed or watered either.’ William must be turning in his grave to see what I’ve become in such a short time. I haven’t nurtured his dream at all. I’ve just trampled all over it.

  ‘Don’t worry about the animals. It’s all sorted now,’ he assures me. ‘They’ve come to no lasting harm. Though Daphne, Doris and Delila might not speak to you for a few days.’

  I give a teary laugh at that. ‘You’re too kind to us,’ I say. ‘And I was horrible to you the other night after you’d done so much for me.’

  ‘I can completely understand why,’ Guy says. ‘That’s not what you need right now. But, if it’s any consolation, it was very well intentioned.’

  ‘I know that,’ I say with a sad smile. I’m so glad that I haven’t messed up this friendship. Guy is the only person I have to lean on here. ‘I do know that.’

  ‘All this, it’s a delayed reaction,’ he tells me. ‘You’ve been trying to cope with everything alone. That’s not easy.’

  ‘And look at the sort of job I’ve made of it.’ I feel so ashamed of myself. I’m letting Will down. ‘I’m going to call my sister and see if she’ll come up here for the weekend. Serena will give me a good talking to.’

  ‘We’ll get you back on track,’ Guy promises.

  ‘What if I can never sell this place? How will I manage?’

  ‘Maybe you could just lick a few things into shape to help you along.’

  ‘I should do that. But I haven’t a clue where to start. It just all seems so overwhelming.’ The tears well up again.

  ‘Look,’ Guy says, ‘this is where I can help. There are all kinds of grants available from the EU to help set up smallholdings. I’m sure I could get you some funding to tide you over.’

  ‘You think you can do that?’ I sip on my tea, thoughtfully. ‘That really would be useful. Wouldn’t the fact that the house is on the market make me ineligible for any grants?’

  ‘You let me worry about that. I’ll make the application, fill in the forms for you.’

  ‘Thank you, Guy. I do appreciate this.’

  ‘No one here wants to see you struggle,’ Guy says. ‘You just have to be a bit more open to accepting help.’

  ‘You’re so right. I should get out and integrate more. I’ve been receiving a regular stream of food parcels, I should go round and thank everyone. They’ve been so kind. We’ve all been living like hermits and it’s not fair on the children.’

  ‘They’re re
ally good kids, Amy. They understand. Believe me.’

  I only wonder how I can make it up to them for my stupid behaviour over the last few days.

  ‘If you’re serious about getting out more, then you should come along to the village hop next weekend. Can’t remember what this one’s in aid of, but it’s normally a pleasant evening, nothing too taxing. It will give you a chance to meet some more of the neighbours.’

  ‘I’ll think about it.’

  ‘You should do. People would love to see you there.’ Then I see him glance surreptitiously at the clock.

  ‘Guy, I shouldn’t keep you any longer. You must have work to do.’

  ‘I have to get back for the afternoon surgery,’ he admits. ‘There’ll no doubt be a queue of herniated hamsters and sickly snakes waiting for me.’

  ‘It’s a very good job that you do.’

  ‘To prove that I really am a good person, I’ll even take this boy with me for a few days to give you a break.’ He flicks a thumb at Hamish.

  ‘You’d do that?’

  ‘Yes.’ Guy claps his hands. ‘Come on, lad,’ he says to the dog, who is immediately on his feet and bouncing happily. If only I had half the energy that mutt has. ‘You’re going on a little holiday with your Uncle Guy.’

  ‘I hope he doesn’t get you into quite as much trouble as he did last time,’ I tease.

  ‘You must be feeling better. You’re making fun of me.’

  ‘I am. Much better.’ I see Guy to the door and, as he leaves, I reach up and give him a peck on the cheek. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘It’s what friends are for, Amy.’ He returns my kiss. ‘Don’t forget that.’

  And as I wave him goodbye, I realise how much I miss a strong, caring man in my life. William is going to be a hard act to follow.

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Guy pulled up outside the row of small farm cottages. He turned to Hamish. ‘I have a dilemma now,’ he said sternly. ‘Are you going to cause more trouble if I take you with me or if I leave you in the car?’