by Susan Lewis
‘I used to have dreams about Dad,’ Liam said softly, ‘nightmares really, but they don’t happen so much any more. The trouble is, being back here, seeing everything the same, but not … I can’t stand that he’s not here.’ He gulped, and sank into her arms again.
As she held him Angie knew that there was still a very long way to go, not only in coming to terms with how Steve had died, but for her to be able to completely forgive Liam, despite knowing he really couldn’t be blamed for his involvement. She would deal with it though, and as she did she’d stay mindful of what really mattered, which was that they were going forward together into a far better life for him, and – this was harder to accept when she thought of Steve – for her too.
On Friday Liam had his first encounter with Martha and there was no doubt it was a big success, hardly surprising given Martha’s natural affinity with the young. Then Angie took him to meet Hamish, which didn’t go quite as well, mainly because Hamish wasn’t feeling too good.
‘We’ll come again next Saturday,’ Liam told him before they left. ‘I’m going to be spending weekends at Mum’s from now on. During the week I’m at work.’
Hamish’s eyes softened with affection as he patted Liam’s hand, and Angie felt sure he was thinking of Craig and how things were working out for him too. ‘It’s doing my heart good to see you,’ Hamish smiled at him, ‘and I can see it’s doing the same for your mum.’
Liam looked thrilled and gave Hamish’s hand a vigorous shake goodbye to show how pleased he was to have met him. ‘He’s nice, isn’t he?’ he remarked as he and Angie returned to the van.
‘He really is,’ Angie agreed, ‘and provided he gets to stay in that house I think he’d value your help with some of the work he does there.’ And even if he doesn’t get to stay, I think you two will be good for each other anyway.
On Sunday they ended up being nine for lunch at the Mermaid, since Carol and Alayna had stayed on in Dorset for an extra few days. Their party was seated at a long window table overlooking the small beach belonging to the pub, Angie between Grace and Liam, who seemed a little shy at first, but began coming out of himself when Martin asked about his work at Deerwood. To his delight it turned out that Martin knew his boss, Sam Baker, and the farm’s owner, Shelley Raynor.
‘She doesn’t get involved in The Project very much,’ Liam told him, in case he didn’t already know that. ‘It’s Hanna Coolidge, her daughter, who runs that side of things. The kids who come in after they leave care, they’re usually being saved from the streets so they’re glad to have somewhere to go, but if they take drugs or anything they’re out.’ He added with guileless solemnity, ‘Sometimes we sit around talking about our time working for the gangs, it’s a kind of group therapy thing.’
Before anyone could comment on that, his cheeriness returned and he said, ‘The best part of it for me is learning to do woodwork. After I made Mum a sign for our house they got me to do all the signs for the farm, and now we’re thinking about taking a few commissions from outside.’
‘I’ll be interested to see them,’ Martin told him, nodding to the waiter to start clearing the table. ‘My company has a lot of requirements for signs, so perhaps we can put some orders your way.’
Liam’s eyes widened with delight, as though Martin were the answer to everything. ‘If you mean it,’ he said, ‘I’ll get Hanna to send you a link to the website we’re creating. It’s not ready yet, but it should be soon.’
‘I’ll contact her myself to make sure she has our details. Now, do you have enough room for dessert after that gigantic roast? I can highly recommend the spicy plum crumble.’
‘That’s what I’m having,’ Zac called out to him.
‘Me too,’ Jack and Harry echoed.
‘I’ll have the chocolate brownie,’ Grace decided, ‘and I’m not sharing,’ she told her aunt and mother. ‘They always order extra spoons for themselves,’ she explained to Martin, ‘and end up eating most of it when it’s supposed to be mine.’
Clearly amused, he said, ‘Well, on this occasion I’m hoping to remove your mother from harm’s way and take her for a little stroll on the beach.’ To Angie he said, ‘There’s something I’d like to discuss with you.’
Aware of Emma whispering something to Melvin as she got up, Angie studiously ignored them, certain she’d rather not know what was being said, having seen the mischief in Emma’s eyes.
As they went outside, pulling on their coats, Angie paused beside the shrine to Daisy Bright, a young girl who used to live at the pub with her parents and who’d been murdered at the age of eighteen. It was a tragic reminder of how vulnerable children could be; in Daisy’s case it was a friend’s jealousy that had brought her precious life to an end.
What family was without its share of tragedy?
‘Did you know her?’ Martin asked quietly.
Angie shook her head. ‘Not really. I knew her parents of course, Jules and Kian. I expect you did too.’
‘I think everyone did. It was a shame when they left, but it was hard to see how they could stay after what happened. Did you know,’ he added wryly, ‘that there used to be a ghost in the pub called Ruby, and she was so attached to them that when they moved to Ireland she apparently went with them.’
Angie smiled. ‘I have heard something like that,’ she said, and fastening the buttons of her smart new puffer jacket, she fell in beside him as they crossed the stony sand towards the water’s edge. Though it wasn’t an especially cold or windy day, only occasional bursts of sunlight were breaking through the low clouds and there was a light drift of rain in the air. Just enough to play havoc with her hair, but she was happy to suffer it to find out what was on his mind.
It seemed for the moment, though, that he wanted to talk about Liam, and she didn’t mind as it gave her the opportunity to thank him for being so good with him today.
Martin laughed. ‘Did you think I’d ignore him?’ he teased.
‘No, of course not, but what you said, about the signs … I expect you saw how much it meant to him.’
‘I’m genuinely interested to see them,’ he assured her. ‘Those kids at Deerwood get some pretty good skills training, and I’m all for helping someone to get started in the wider world.’
Angie frowned. ‘I’m not sure he’s planning on joining the wider world,’ she admitted. ‘As he keeps telling me, he’s not one of the residents. He works for Sam and he gets paid, so I don’t see he has much incentive to leave.’
‘Not yet, no, but things are always changing, and meantime Sam Baker is a great boss for him to have. He’ll treat him fairly and teach him well. I think you’re already seeing evidence of that.’
She smiled, because she certainly was.
‘Have you talked about his father?’ he asked gently.
‘Yes, we have. Not in great depth yet, but I know now that he did witness what happened.’
He gave a murmur of sympathy. ‘I imagine it’s quite painful for you both,’ he said.
‘It is, but it has to be done and in the end it’ll help us both to heal.’
He stopped and gazed out at the misty horizon, leaving her to wonder what he was thinking. Sometimes he was so easy to read, and other times, like now, he really wasn’t.
In the end she said, ‘I’m guessing you didn’t really bring me out here to talk about Liam.’
His eyebrows arched as he said, ‘Not strictly true, but you’re right, there is something else.’ Taking her hand he linked it through his arm, and began walking them on towards the cliffs where seagulls were swooping and shrieking around the waves that crashed and sprayed over the rocks. ‘My mother wanted to have a chat with you herself, as you know,’ he began, ‘but she’s not sure how long she’s going to be in Dorset. Her cousin’s pretty sick and his wife isn’t coping well, so she feels she ought to be there.’ He stooped to pick up a perfectly intact scallop shell and handed it to her. ‘You’ll remember,’ he continued, ‘that I said I’d give some thought to the fat
e of the BtG residences. Well, my mother is interested in buying them.’
Angie’s eyebrows shot up with surprise.
‘It’s not generally known,’ he went on, ‘that she’s part of an investment group that owns a few properties like it – one of the night shelters in town, for instance, a couple of refuges, the Crescent Moon rehabilitation centre. Actually, it was my father who started the group when he turned the old timber yard into a night shelter, and she’s carried it on since he died. When I told her about Hope House and Hill Lodge I wasn’t surprised that she wanted to know more. She still does, so she’s asked if you can email her the last few years’ accounts, the tax returns, the cost of the houses, their state of repair, that sort of thing.’
‘Of course I can,’ Angie exclaimed excitedly.
He smiled, and turning to gaze into her eyes, he said, ‘If she goes through with it, there’ll be no reason for you to try to find somewhere else for Hamish. And if she doesn’t, she’s mentioned a small cottage on our land where he can live rent-free in exchange for helping out around the place.’
Angie and Emma were so eager to share their news with Ivan the following morning that they drove to the church together, breaking several speed limits along the way as they tried to decide whether they’d now arrived at the right time to tell Hamish what was happening.
‘Maybe we should get all the information to Carol first,’ Angie said, checking her phone as a text came in from Liam. Going to send Martin some samples of my signs. Sam says he’s a good bloke.
Feeling a surge of love tangling up with all sorts of other emotions, she sent a message back saying Definitely think Martin is a good bloke. Can’t wait to see you next weekend.
‘I know we can’t act as brokers for the houses, as such,’ Emma was saying as they turned into the church-office car park, ‘but I think we can do our best to make sure Carol’s investment group gets the properties at a knock-down price if they want them.’
‘I’m sure we’ll have Ivan onside for that,’ Angie agreed, and clocking his car, she said, ‘OK, let’s go break the good news. How many Brownie points do you think we might earn for this?’
Laughing, Emma hauled her bag from the back seat, and was just catching up with Angie when Rosa, the vicar’s wife, came out to meet them.
‘I’m glad you’re here, ladies,’ she said, and Angie noticed right away how pinched and nervy she seemed.
‘Is everything all right?’ she asked. ‘We have something to tell you that …’
‘Come into the office,’ Rosa interrupted. ‘My husband’s there. He and Ivan … Come in,’ and turning around she went through the door first.
Confused, and concerned, Angie cast a glance at Emma as they followed. Rosa clearly wasn’t herself, and it wasn’t very often they saw the vicar at this time of day, so what was going on?
Inside, Ivan was at his desk, looking so shattered that he barely seemed able to hold himself up. The vicar was standing to the side of him, hands clutched behind his back, his normally cheery face more solemn than Angie had ever seen it.
‘Come and sit down, ladies,’ he said quietly. ‘We have something to tell you.’
Rosa indicated two chairs for them to take in front of Ivan’s desk.
Starting to get a horrible sixth sense about this, Angie sat down, and looked from Ivan, to Rosa, and back to the vicar. Something was very wrong here, very wrong indeed.
‘I’m afraid,’ the vicar began, and cleared his throat, ‘that our dear friend Hamish …’
‘What?’ Angie prompted urgently. ‘What about him?’
In a hoarse, faintly strangled voice the vicar said, ‘I’m afraid he’s taken his own life.’
Stunned, Angie shot to her feet. ‘No,’ she told him angrily. ‘No, that’s not … He wouldn’t …’
Emma grabbed her arm, but Angie shook her off.
‘Tell him he’s wrong,’ Angie instructed her. ‘Hamish wouldn’t do that … He wouldn’t,’ she told the vicar.
He regarded her with dull, tragic eyes, and as she looked back at him she felt her control slipping away. Not Hamish. No, no, not Hamish. This couldn’t be real. ‘What happened?’ she demanded fiercely. ‘Tell me what happened.’
‘Lennie and Alexei found him this morning,’ the vicar replied softly. ‘The police and paramedics are there now, but there are no suspicious circumstances.’
Angie’s hands flew out helplessly. ‘Oh God, oh God,’ she cried desperately. ‘Hamish, you can’t. I won’t let this be true …’
‘How exactly did he …?’ Emma said.
‘He hanged himself in his room, the vicar replied.’
Angie cried, ‘Why? I don’t understand. I know he was upset about Craig going …’
Ivan said brokenly, ‘I’m afraid it was my fault. I told him the houses were for sale and that we were trying to find a new place for him to live.’
Angie gaped at him in disbelief. He’d told Hamish, frightened him when there had been no need to. ‘I thought we agreed,’ she raged. ‘He didn’t need to know until …’
‘I went to see him,’ Ivan explained, ‘we got chatting and I thought … I thought he should know the truth so he could start to prepare himself.’
Angie glared at him, wanting to hit him right off his chair. ‘When?’ she demanded. ‘When did you tell him?’
‘About a week ago.’
She thought back over the past few days, flashing on images of Hamish showing her videos of Craig, making tea in his big red pot, seeming sad when Liam was there, but pleased to meet him … He’d known all that time that he was losing his home and he’d been waiting for her to tell him.
‘Oh Hamish,’ she sobbed wretchedly. ‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.’
‘It was my fault,’ Ivan choked.
‘Yes it was,’ she agreed brutally. ‘He needed you to protect him, not prepare him. He was a good person, one of the best people I’ve ever known. He deserved more, Ivan. We’d have found somewhere … We have found somewhere. He could have stayed where he was. We’ve found a buyer. OK, it’s not definite yet …’
‘His home aside,’ Rosa said quietly, ‘we have to remember that he was quite sick.’
‘What difference does that make?’ Angie shouted at her. ‘He’s always been sick, but he copes and the reason he copes is because we gave him a home, and it was you Ivan, who told him he could stay so he’d never have to worry again. Now you do this?’
‘Angie,’ the vicar said gently, ‘I understand how upset you are, we all do, but when someone takes their own life it’s their decision, their …’
‘Don’t lecture me,’ Angie seethed. ‘I don’t want to hear about who is or isn’t responsible, because we all are, me and Ivan most of all. He wouldn’t have done it if you’d just waited, Ivan, and he wouldn’t have done it if I’d been honest with him. Oh God,’ she groaned, her eyes closing as she sank back into the chair. ‘I can’t bear it. I just can’t.’ It was the thought of the days, hours, minutes leading up to it, the preparations he must have made, and he’d been all alone …
‘I have to get out of here,’ she suddenly cried, and taking herself out to the car park she stood looking down over the cemetery to the roof of Hill Lodge at the bottom. ‘Hamish!’ she whispered brokenly, desperately. ‘Oh Hamish! I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.’
‘Hey,’ Emma said softly, coming up behind her. ‘You can’t do this to yourself. He’d have known why you were holding back on him, he might even have been glad of it, so don’t blame yourself. It’s the last thing he’d want.’
Angie sucked in her trembling lips as tears flowed down her cheeks. ‘He was more than a resident,’ she said shakily, ‘he was like family, and I should have told him that.’
‘You did. OK, not in words, but in so many other ways,’ and as Emma’s tears fell too they clung to one another, so broken-hearted and lost in the shock of it all that it was a long time before they let go.
‘I think we should go home,’ Emma said, he
r voice still clogged with emotion. ‘If anyone needs us they can call.’
Angie didn’t argue, just followed Emma to the car, only turning round when Rosa came out of the office.
‘He left this,’ Rosa said, holding out an envelope. ‘It’s for you.’
Angie stared at it, understanding straight away what it was and trying to summon the courage to take it. ‘Have you read it?’ she asked, when she saw the seal had been broken.
Rosa shook her head. ‘The police … They had to, in case …’
Angie nodded and mumbled a thank you before turning to get into Emma’s car.
My Dear Angie,
We’ve come to know each other well over the time you’ve been with BtG so I think you might feel some sadness at my passing, but please try to reflect more on the good times we’ve shared. We’ve had some lovely chats on both sunny and wintry days, we’ve laughed a lot, cried some too, and we’ve always done our best for the luckless individuals who’ve come through the residences. There aren’t many who care about old down-and-outs like me, most would rather not think about us at all, but no one could ever say that about you. You have the biggest heart I’ve ever known.
This seems a very poor way to thank you for making the past few years of my life the very best of my life. Knowing you, Angie, has made me see the world differently, not always as a place where men like me are despised or simply forgotten. You showed me so much kindness it was as though light shone out of you and into me. You are a very special person, my dear. It has been a true pleasure and honour to know you. If I’d ever had a daughter I’d have been so proud if she was just like you.
God Bless you Angie, my angel,
Your friend always,
Hamish
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
One month later
It was a warm evening, as though summer had come early just to entice out the peonies and floribunda roses that Angie had planted one spring to mark seven years of being in the house. They came every April, shyly at first, but soon gathering confidence in the warmth, until their blooms were as welcome as their fragrance. The air was scented by them, along with candlewax and the delicious drift from the barbecue that Liam and Zac were manning between them.