The Difference a Day Makes

by Carole Matthews

  Chapter One Hundred and Nine

  ‘What do you think?’ Guy asked.

  Alan put down his spade and Guy handed over the puppy, who promptly weed with excitement as he licked at Alan’s face.

  Neatly avoiding the puddle that was forming on the ground, Alan lifted the tiny, wriggling dog and studied its face intently. ‘It’s reet like Hamish.’

  ‘Yes,’ Guy said. ‘This is Son of Hamish. But I wouldn’t want that to be common knowledge, otherwise we’ll be slapped with a paternity suit.’

  Trouble squirmed in Alan’s arms. ‘Friendly little tyke.’

  ‘He’s called Trouble.’ The two men exchanged a knowing glance.

  ‘I can’t believe I’ve taken him on,’ Guy confessed. ‘I must be mad.’

  Alan didn’t disagree.

  ‘I’m hoping that you’ll help me to look after him.’

  Alan didn’t disagree again, which Guy took as a good sign.

  ‘If it was possible, would you be prepared to stay on at Helmshill Grange permanently?’ Guy asked Alan.

  A faint whisper of a smile threatened the man’s lips. ‘Aye, Vit.’

  ‘You’ve enjoyed your time here?’

  Alan nodded, before elaborating with, ‘Aye.’

  This place had become like a second home to Alan, who worked way longer than the hours that Guy paid him for. Some days he seemed reluctant to go home at all. Alan might not say much, but he clearly had become very attached to Helmshill Grange and the animals he cared for. It was costing Guy a small fortune to keep the place running, but it was worth it. He only hoped that Amy would agree.

  Guy looked round the spotless yard. In his pen, Pork Chop snuffled around next to the two goats, Stephanie and Blob. In the paddock Daphne, Doris and Delila happily chewed at the sparse winter grass while the newborn lamb, Stuart Little, gambolled happily in the field, going from strength to strength every day.

  Guy leaned on the fence and took in a breath of the cold, clear air. Any man would be happy to make Helmshill Grange his home. This was a beautiful setting, the house in its own land, nestled cosily at the foot of the brooding moors. How could the Gerner-Bernards have pulled out of buying such a place? Guy smiled to himself.

  ‘Shame the townies aren’t moving in now, eh?’ he said to Alan.

  ‘Reckon you’ve summat to do wi’ that, Vit.’ Alan tapped his nose knowingly.

  ‘Mrs Ashurst must never get wind of that, Alan, or I’ll be toast.’

  ‘Secret’s safe wi’ me, Vit.’

  ‘At least all the animals have got a reprieve.’

  ‘Aye.’ Already their new addition had fallen asleep in Alan’s arms. The elderly man carried him to Guy’s car and laid him gently in the front seat.

  ‘I’ll have to call Amy later,’ Guy said absently. ‘See how things are going in London.’

  Then they heard the familiar rattle of a Land Rover and seconds later, Amy swung the car into the drive. Guy’s heart lifted. What had brought her back to Helmshill without notice? Amy hadn’t told him that she was planning to come back for a visit. Maybe she’d decided that she couldn’t wait to see him. Guy hoped so. He wanted to run to take her in his arms and kiss her passionately. Well, he could dream.

  Then he wondered how she’d take the news he was about to give her and he stayed where he was, shifting nervously from foot to foot. ‘Looks like I won’t have to wait that long.’

  Chapter One Hundred and Ten

  As we round the last bend before Helmshill comes into view, I get the urge to burst into tears and a lump comes to my throat. Strange as it may sound, this feels like coming home. I remember the first time we came here and I thought that Will had lost his mind bringing us to a place like this. Now, having spent just a few weeks back in London, I think that I’ve lost my mind in wanting to leave.

  ‘We’re home!’ my daughter shouts and I couldn’t agree more with her. Hamish pees in the footwell in excitement, but even that can’t dampen my mood.

  Turning into the drive, my spirit soars further when I see that Guy’s Range Rover is parked there. That threatens to open the floodgates completely and I don’t think that I’ve ever parked and been out of the car so quickly before.

  I don’t care what people think, but I rush into his arms and bury my face in his neck. It feels so good to see him. I knew that I’d missed him desperately this week, but I didn’t realise quite how much.

  Hamish goes berserk. He careens into Guy, barks maniacally, then when he spots Alan he sprints across the yard, ears flapping, feet scuttling on the cobbles, to take a flying leap at his hero.

  ‘Whoa, boy,’ is all that Alan says as he catches Hamish at full tilt and I have no idea how he remains standing.

  I untangle myself from Guy’s arms and he goes to give Tom and Jessica a hug. My daughter, I note, clings tightly to him.

  ‘I didn’t know you were coming back,’ Guy says over his shoulder.

  ‘Neither did I.’ All I want now is a cup of tea. I feel so exhausted after the drive and everything else that’s gone on. ‘The estate agent called this morning to say that the house sale had fallen through. I’ve just stopped by there on the way here and now he tells me that there’s another buyer interested.’ I glance at my watch. ‘He’s supposed to be here now, according to Wayne.’

  ‘Hmm,’ Guy says.

  ‘How long have you been here?’

  ‘Half an hour or so. I brought a visitor to see Alan. Seems quite timely now.’ Guy goes to his car and opens the door. There, curled up on the seat, is the cutest puppy I’ve ever seen. The children are wide eyed with adoration.

  Guy lifts him up and the puppy opens his eyes sleepily.

  ‘Oh, my God.’ My hand flies to my mouth. ‘It’s a mini-Hamish.’

  ‘Yes,’ Guys says.

  ‘How did that happen?’

  ‘Usual way,’ he tells me, but doesn’t elaborate. No doubt I’ll find out the full story later.

  The puppy yawns and starts to wriggle. ‘Meet Trouble,’ Guy announces.

  ‘He’s yours?’

  ‘For my sins.’

  ‘Have you learned nothing, from all of Hamish’s escapades?’

  Guy shakes his head. ‘Clearly not.’

  ‘I love him,’ Jessica says, and Guy hands Trouble over to her. ‘He’s so sweet.’

  He is sweet, I have to agree. But I know exactly what he’ll grow up to be like.

  ‘So,’ I say, ‘this chap who’s supposed to be looking at the house hasn’t turned up then.’

  ‘Er . . .’ Guy says shiftily. I regard him quizzically. ‘That chap would be me.’

  ‘You!’ I can’t quite get my head around this. No wonder the estate agent was keeping schtum. ‘You want to buy Helmshill? Why?’

  ‘Look at it,’ he says, sweeping his arm round the yard. ‘I couldn’t bear to see it go to someone else. Especially not some arty-farty Londoner wearing arty-farty specs.’

  I laugh out loud. ‘You can’t buy it just because of that!’

  ‘What would have happened to the animals?’ He lowers his voice. ‘To Alan? This is his life too now.’

  And I do know that Alan Steadman has invested a lot of time and energy into looking after this place, more than he ever needed to. Would the new owners have appreciated that?

  Guy comes to me and puts his hands on my arms. ‘I know this is perhaps not what you want to hear, but I think that we could be good together. In time.’ He sighs. ‘There, I’ve said it. I know that you still love your husband, you always will, but I think that you could find room in your heart for me too. We could have a great relationship, Amy – I adore your children – and I want to give that a chance too. If you think we could have one. How much more difficult would it be, with me being here and you being there? Don’t you think we deserve a chance at happiness together?’

  ‘Yes,’ I finally admit – to Guy and to myself. ‘That’s what I want too.’

  ‘I want to buy the house for you to live in,’ he says. �
�Come back from London. It was horrible to see you there, to see the children and Hamish cooped up in that awful flat.’

  ‘The flat’s not so awful,’ I say defensively. Then I remember that, actually, it is.

  ‘Come back,’ he implores. ‘Live at Helmshill again.’

  ‘How can I? I lost my job this morning, Guy. I have no income. We’re about to be turfed out of “that awful flat” because the neighbours have complained about Hamish’s barking, and the kids are being bullied at their new school. Don’t you think that I’d come running back here if I could?’ I only have to look around me to realise that I’ve made a terrible mistake in trailing us all back to Town.

  ‘You’ll have the money from the sale,’ he rushes on. ‘Then you can rent it back from me. For heaven’s sake, Amy, you can have the place for nothing.’

  ‘I can’t do that.’

  ‘That’s exactly why I’m suggesting that you rent it. At a nominal fee. You know that I don’t want anything from you. I have more money than I know what to do with. The practice is doing well and my expenses are low. What else do I have to spend my cash on? Please,’ he begs, ‘let me help you.’

  I can feel my resolve crumbling. Is there any way that I could come back here and make it work?

  ‘We can sort out the details later. Just say you’ll come back.’

  ‘How would I earn a living?’ This has been the block all along. I have no skills that I can offer to the community around here. I’m a television producer and that’s neither use to man nor beast when you live in the country.

  ‘We’ll work something out. I promise you.’

  My head’s swimming and my brain won’t do joined-up thinking. I can’t believe that Guy has been planning and plotting all this for us. And I realise that he really does love us. He loves us all. Me, the kids, Hamish, Milly Molly Mandy, Doris, Daphne, Delila, Stuart Little, Stephanie, Blob, Fluffy the hedgehog, all of the chickens and Pork Chop. And Alan too. I don’t think I’ve left anyone out. It’s totally overwhelming.

  ‘Phew,’ I say, massaging my temples. ‘I can’t quite get my head round this. I need time to think about it all.’

  ‘Take all the time you need,’ Guy says. ‘Just say yes.’

  If only it were so easy, I think. If only it were so easy.

  Chapter One Hundred and Eleven

  I leave the children happily feeding the goats, stuffing Pork Chop with his favourite pig nuts and becoming reacquainted with Stuart Little the lamb, all supervised by Guy and Alan. While they’re occupied, I take the opportunity to walk out into the garden by myself.

  I’m dressed for London, still in my work suit and light coat, so I’m cold and wish that I’d thought to bring my padded jacket, a woolly hat and some thick gloves with me. At least I remembered to pack sensible clothing for the children. I pull my coat around me against the chill and, oblivious of my ridiculously inadequate shoes, set out over the grass.

  In the garden, I go and sit on the bench where Will died. Which is something that I haven’t previously been able to do. Now there’s a comfort in sitting where my husband liked to sit, Hamish snoozing at his feet. I stroke the bench, absently, as if I can somehow touch Will again through it. I feel so much more connected to him here than I did in London. All the time I was there, I was so frazzled that I couldn’t talk to him at all.

  So much has happened in the last year that I feel dizzy with the thought of it. The last thing I want to do is rush into something else, but the draw of this place, of Guy, is much stronger than I thought.

  The old oak tree looms over me, looking less benign but just as sturdy without its dressing of leaves. The grass is lush, green from all the rain. I look out over the landscape, the ancient unspoiled moors, and I think that someone who sat here a hundred years ago, more, maybe the very first owners of Helmshill Grange, would have seen the very same things that I’m seeing now. From the fields, the silence is punctuated by the comical baa of the sheep and the lowing of nearby cows. In a few months this place will be alive again. Little blue damselflies will hover over the boggy patch in the corner of the garden that could be the perfect home for a pond if I ever got organised. The flowers will be coming out in force and so will the bees and the butterflies. Last year I was too stressed, too unhappy to enjoy those small wonders. I hope this year that it will be completely different. If we come back, I want to spend time sitting on this bench, spending time with nature, spending time with Will. I smile to myself. I’m saying the things that my husband used to say. The same things that I used to scoff at. Perhaps William would be proud of me. I hope that he would. It’s beautiful here already, but there’s so much more I could do. There’s so much potential. If only I’d thought to watch Gardener’s World once or twice. Perhaps I’ll start now. Maybe Marty and Gill Bainbridge would help me too.

  ‘What do you think, Will?’ I say out loud. ‘Did you hear Guy’s offer? Should I try to stay here?’

  How good it would be, to hear the sound of my husband’s voice again. ‘I want to do what’s best for the children and I know that you wanted them to have a less stressful life than they would in London. I can see that now.’

  I curl up my knees and lean my head on the back of the bench. ‘Do you know how much I loved you?’ Now the tears start to fall. ‘Did I ever tell you enough? I never thought, never imagined that I’d find anyone who could make me feel like you did. But I’m in love with Guy. I feel so lucky. He’s been so good to us, Will. He adores me. He adores the children. He even adores that damn dog. And I love him – as much as I did you. How can that be?’

  Now the sky’s darkening as dusk is falling. Soon lights will be going on in the village, little pinpricks of warmth in the gathering gloom. I wonder where we’ll stay tonight as there’s nothing left in Helmshill Grange and it will be days before the gronky old heating system will thaw the place out enough to make it habitable once again. Maybe Guy will let us camp out at his place. I don’t even have to think about it really, already I know the answer to that. He’ll be delighted to have us and he’ll make us feel safe and warm and loved.

  ‘I’m worried that it’s too soon. But look at what happened to us, Will. We thought we had forever together and we were wrong.’

  I could make Tom and Jessica and me into a tight little impenetrable unit, able to cope, self-sufficient, letting no one else inside. I could harden my heart against love, close off these feelings I have for Guy. But that wouldn’t be good for any of us. I want my children’s lives to be filled with the type of love and laughter that only a father-figure can bring.

  The light’s nearly gone now and the temperature is dropping steadily with the departure of the sun. Soon it will be too cold to sit here speaking to my husband.

  ‘I want to be with him. I hope that’s okay with you.’ I take a deep, shuddering breath. ‘I just have to work out the practicalities. I know that you wouldn’t want us to struggle on alone. I’d like to think I’ll be carrying on part of your dream and that you’d approve of what I’m doing. I know you always wanted to run a bed and breakfast . . .’

  Then I pull up short. Bed and breakfast? The last thing on earth that I would have ever considered! It’s just not me. But, sometimes, things change, people change. I thought television was my life, but I was wrong. I giggle to myself and a thrill of excitement runs through me. Bed and breakfast, eh? I might just have hit on a solution to my income dilemma. My husband would smile at that.

  ‘Thank you, Will.’ I blow a kiss into the air. I know, just know that my husband will always be here with us – for me, for the children – and there’s a great comfort in that. It’s strange, but suddenly I don’t feel that he’s left us, after all. ‘You knew what was right for us all along. I’m just sorry that it took me so long to see it. I love you, Will,’ I say to the darkening sky. ‘Thank you so much for bringing us here.’

  Chapter One Hundred and Twelve

  ‘I’m not going back to London,’ Jessica states as I approach. ‘And neither is
Tom.’

  My son, hiding behind his sister’s bravado, nods in agreement. They climb down from the fence by the garden where they’ve clearly been plotting, little knowing that I’ve been doing some plotting of my own. Tom has Hamish’s lookalike puppy nestled in his arms. Trouble, I can see, is chewing a hole in his new school jumper. That puppy has got to be a chip off one old block. God help us all.

  ‘Really?’ I say.

  ‘You can do what you like,’ she adds, hands on hips. ‘But we’re staying here. Daddy would have let us.’

  I have no idea why she talks like a thirty-five year old, but it makes me smile to myself.

  ‘Well, that’s fine then. I’d better send for all of our things.’

  They look at me open mouthed. My ready agreement will probably turn my daughter into a power-crazed monster, but I’ll deal with that later. I wonder what the removal men will think when I ask them to bring all our stuff back so soon. I wonder what Guy will say too.

  ‘Come on, then.’ I beckon them after me. ‘Let’s go and tell Guy our news.’

  We find him with Alan, still in the yard even though the light is failing. Alan is putting the animals to bed for the night. It’s nice to think that Mr Steadman will be around for a while to watch over them.

  I sidle up next to Guy as he leans over the gate watching Alan at work. ‘It’s a deal,’ I say.

  He spins round to look at me, surprise and joy on his face. ‘You’re staying?’

  ‘Looks like it.’

  ‘You really mean it?’

  I nod. ‘I’m going to run Helmshill Grange as a bed and breakfast. If I can get approval from my new landlord, of course,’ I tease.

  ‘That’s a great idea.’

  My mind is rushing ahead of me and I’m having trouble marshalling my thoughts into a cohesive stream. ‘I’ll use some of the money from the purchase to do it up and then we can pay you rent – perhaps on favourable terms at first, then we can increase it as the business grows. How does that sound to you?’