by Lucy Coleman
‘My boss accepted the story about the allergic reaction and I took a month off. When I was due to return to work, I didn’t know if I could do it. You know – face everyone, knowing what I’d done. Having to listen to the well-meaning platitudes that people say, hoping I won’t dissolve into tears in front of them. It was a surprise being sent here and I’m sure there’s an ulterior motive behind it. Maybe I’m about to be demoted, who knows? I sink or swim, based upon the success of this project, I guess. I have five weeks left to deliver and prove myself. And that’s the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, as they say in court.’
Max is a real gentleman. Considering he’s not a talker, he sensitively changes the subject and we talk about music, opera, books we’d take with us if we had to spend time on a desert island… and before we know it, it’s past midnight.
As we part, Max leans in to give me a gentle hug and I pat his back.
‘It helps, doesn’t it?’
I nod and the look that passes between us is one of understanding.
‘It’s been cathartic and I thank you, Max. I never thought I’d hear myself say that out loud and now I have—’
‘The sky didn’t fall and the earth didn’t open up and swallow you whole. Guess we have one quite important thing in common; we are survivors. Hang in there, Tia. Inner strength will never fail you and there are many who would envy you that quality.’
He pulls a torch from his pocket and as the latch on the gate at the bottom of the garden clicks shut, he turns and waves.
‘You know where to find me if you need anything. Any time. Day, or night.’ And with that he disappears into the darkness.
15
A Little Bit Country
I roll over with a start, my eyes registering the brightness around me even before I prise my eyelids open. The sun is streaming through the window and its daylight. Glancing at the clock I see it’s eight-thirty and I have to squint to check I’m not misreading one of the digits. I really didn’t intend sleeping this late because lazing around isn’t going to help.
‘OK, Tia. This is the first day of the rest of your life. So, what’s the action plan?’ My words echo around the room and my head is quick to conjure up a response.
I’m going to dress, walk up to the top road and catch a bus down to Caswell Bay. It takes less than an hour to grab a slice of toast and a coffee, have a quick shower, change and start the trek up the hill.
I jump on the first bus that comes along and the driver confirms that it runs every thirty minutes, but there’s no service on Sundays. It’s only a few stops and if it wasn’t for the heavy rain yesterday, I would have been perfectly happy to attempt to find my way through the woods.
The bus stops across the road from the small promenade and it’s quite busy, mostly families and a few older people milling around. Some are sitting on benches eating ice cream from one of the kiosks and the two cafés are doing good business. They are still serving breakfast and it’s warm enough this morning for people to sit outside and enjoy the sunshine.
Pulling my sunglasses from my backpack, I head off towards the start of the coastal path.
As walkers pass on the trail I nod, smile and acknowledge their good mornings, but today is about clearing my head. I want to spend time thinking about Mum and remembering the good times and I want to think about the future. Am I really stressing over the fact that when I arrive back at work I might find Finlay has completely taken over my job? And if I am, do I care anymore?
Two-and-a-half-hours later I’m walking back down the hill towards Beach View Cottage and the answer, I’ve discovered, is no. Whatever happens, happens. As much as I love my job, it does mean that I am always the first person Clarissa turns to, as if I’m some understudy waiting in the wings. Of course, I want to be regarded as a consummate professional and good at what I do, but I don’t want to end up being a clone of someone I often pity in many ways. I realise I walk and talk fast, which some people seem to find a tad intimidating, but that’s a part of my character. My brain races ahead of me and once I latch onto an idea I’m off chasing it.
As I swing open the front door, still trying to get my head around that rather shocking revelation, there’s a note lying on the door mat. It’s from Olwen.
Tia, can you give me a call when you’re back? My number is on the pin board.
Olwen
Curious, I kick off my shoes, drop my backpack and coat in a heap and go in search of my phone. I really must stop forgetting to check it. It’s so unlike me to distance myself from the outside world. There are a couple of missed calls and a couple of texts, which I ignore, while I dial Olwen’s number.
‘Hi, Olwen, it’s Tia. Sorry I missed you, I did the coastal walk again and I’ve only just arrived back.’
‘Glad to hear you’re getting out and about, especially after that awful rain. There’s a barn dance on tonight up at the farm and I wondered if you’d like to come along? We’re going and taking our youngest, Rhona. It’s five pounds a ticket and that includes a buffet and a glass of pear cider, which has been brewed on the farm. We always have a laugh and the music is live. What do you think?’
‘Count me in. What time and what’s the dress code?’
‘We’ll pick you up at seven-thirty and casual. It’s a jeans sort of thing. It gets quite hot when you’re dancing but you might need a jumper in between.’
‘Great. See you tonight and thanks for thinking of me, Olwen. That’s very kind of you.’
Well, that says a lot when another person I’ve only just met makes time for me. Maybe fate is trying to tell me something. I’ve lost my way and I’ve lost touch with the things in life that really matter. Now it’s down to me to make some changes.
I tidy away the heap on the floor, grab my phone and sit down on the sofa. The first call I return is Will’s.
‘Hi, Will, really sorry I missed your call again. How are you?’
He hesitates. ‘I’m… good, thank you. And you?’
‘Great. I’ve just come back from a long coastal walk along part of the Gower Coast. I forgot to take my phone, again.’
‘You sound well.’
‘I’m doing better, really. The fresh air and exercise are revitalising. The assignment is going very well: I’m pleased so far. I’m off to a barn dance tonight.’
I can imagine the look on his face is probably one of total disbelief.
‘How are Sally and Bella?’
‘They’re shopping for new school shoes. Bella lost another tooth yesterday, so she’s still lisping. It’s hard not to laugh and it sounds so cute.’
My brother, sharing stories about Bella and using words like cute? If I wasn’t sitting down I think I’d fall over, in shock.
‘I’d love to visit you all once I’m settled back in London. It’s been too long. And I wanted to thank you for being there when I needed you most. I don’t think I handled it very well, you know, it’s hard not being in control. Anyway, how did it go with the estate agent?’
‘He measured up and took photos. The house will go on the market sometime next week. It wasn’t easy being there, if I’m honest.’
‘I know. I wish I could have been there with you, to help you through it. But let’s not dwell, Will. We can’t change the past and we can’t change what happened. Let’s move on, as best we can. Is that OK with you?’
The pause that follows doesn’t worry me too much, as I think he’s taking a moment to compose himself.
‘It’s a great way to start, Tia. We need to be in each other’s lives because that’s the way it’s meant to be. I lost my way for a while, there.’
*
By the time Olwen ushers us all through the doors, the dancing is in full-swing. Rhona and Rhys head for the dance floor and Olwen steers me in the direction of the bar area.
‘The caller, the guy in the cool cowboy hat, is Mike. He owns the farm. He shouts out directions to the dancers and generally organises the band. He’s from Manchester, b
ut he’s lived here for the last ten years. He speaks fast, so simply follow everyone else and don’t worry if you turn the wrong way. People will point you in the right direction. They will also come up and ask you to dance, unless you have a plate of food in your hand, so you’ve been warned.’
We grab a drink and head down to a small table in the far corner, beyond which is a wall of hay bales.
‘It really is a barn,’ I shout. I doubt Olwen can hear me above the general noise.
‘The real thing. Your first time?’
‘In a barn and at a barn dance.’
‘Tom, our postman, is heading in this direction so you’d best prepare yourself.’
I think my face might look a little panic-stricken. Tom says something I can’t catch over the strains of the music, but Olwen gives me a gentle push.
‘Her first time, Tom, show her the ropes.’
It’s well over an hour before I manage to make my excuses and ease myself back onto a chair. Olwen is nowhere in sight.
It took me a while to get into it. Especially given that I had to strain my ears to hear what Mike was saying. The music is really loud and some of the actions didn’t come naturally to me, as he directed the dancers. But Tom stayed with me the whole time and nursed me through a real assortment of dances. From the Virginia reel, to the Heel Toe Polka and I even danced to Cotton Eye Joe. I can’t remember the last time I laughed so hard. The Square Dance had me totally confused as to which way to turn. The amount of times I bumped into people, often the same person more than once, made me laugh even harder. But it didn’t matter because everyone was having such a good time.
I suddenly spot Nic in the crowd and he looks my way. I wave out and he comes across.
‘Well, this is a surprise. I don’t usually come to these things as I’m not much of a dancer. I thought I should at least show my face as I’m actually staying here at the moment.’
He takes the seat next to me and we sit watching the dancers weaving in and out. Mike directs them left and right, and round, and elbows left in a constant stream of words: which is fine if you know what you are doing and can react instantly to his commands. I seem to do everything a second or two after everyone else.
‘It’s a lot easier once you’ve been doing it for a while.’ Nic leans in close so I can hear him.
‘I’m a little relieved to hear that, as my brain doesn’t seem able to communicate with my feet. Tom was showing me what to do and I simply followed everything he did. My feet are killing me now, though.’ I grimace.
‘You didn’t walk here from the cottage, did you? Do you need a lift back after the buffet?’
‘I came with Olwen, Rhys and Rhona.’
‘Oh, good. I’ll let her know I can pop you back. Are you hungry now, or do you want to give it a whirl again?’
It’s obvious he’s hoping that I’m not expecting him to extend his hand and lead me straight back onto the dance floor. In all honesty, I don’t think my feet could take it, anyway.
‘Food sounds good. Lead on.’
I grab my things and follow him into the crowd, then out through a side door and into a lean-to. There are bales of hay to sit on and probably the longest trestle table I’ve ever seen, straining under the weight of the food.
‘Thank goodness for the walks around here, or I’ll be going home a stone heavier,’ I reflect, but it doesn’t stop me reaching out for southern fried chicken wings and filled potato skins.
We move away from the table and settle ourselves down on a couple of hay bales. It’s a bit prickly actually, but feels surprisingly sturdy.
‘How’s Sid?’
‘He’s coming around. We’re establishing a sort of rapport, now. He doesn’t strain on the leash as much and you were right, letting him feel he isn’t too restricted when we start our walk really helps.’
I nod, trying to figure out how to tackle a chicken wing without getting it all over my face. In the end, I give up and just go for it.
Nic looks at me and wiggles a finger, indicating towards my left cheek. I give it a swipe with the napkin and nod gratefully. It’s easier to eat in silence and I scan the room, but I don’t see any faces I know. I don’t think this will be Max’s sort of thing and I haven’t seen Olwen, or her family, for a while.
‘I’ll grab a couple of bottles of water, is there anything else you want?’
‘No, I’m good, thanks.’
I watch as Nic disposes of the empty paper plates and disappears out to the bar. It’s nowhere near as warm in here as it is in the main barn. I undo the jumper loosely tied around my waist and pull it over my head.
I love people-watching and what’s nice about this evening is that it includes the whole community; from children of about ten, or eleven years old, up to some very sprightly looking senior citizens.
‘Here you go. I saw Olwen and mentioned I’d drive you back. She said she’d see you on Monday, but give her a call if you need anything at all.’
‘Thanks. It was quite a late one yesterday, so I am flagging a bit but I don’t intend to leave until I’ve gotten you up dancing.’
He shakes his head and begins to roll his eyes. ‘I should have guessed that was coming. Don’t say I didn’t warn you when I mess it up. Guess we’d better get it over and done with, then.’
I finish my water and we head back inside, just in time to line up for what I think is another Virginia reel. As the music begins and I look across the gap at Nic, standing in line, he looks more confident than I’d expected. When Mike counts us down from five to one, we all walk towards the middle. Nic appears to know what he’s doing and as the two lines begin stepping backwards, it’s quite easy to keep time with the rhythm. We all take a couple of steps forward and Mike calls out “elbows”. Each couple link arms and spin around in a circle. Then a few steps backwards and in we go again, changing arms this time and doing another spin in the opposite direction.
Our eyes are glued to each other as we step back in line once more. Then we surge forward to join hands, this time, and circle around. Letting go to step away from Nic, I suddenly feel as if we’re all alone and the music and people around us seem to pale into the background. Eyes fixed, we meet once more in the middle, but this time we walk behind each other before returning to our starting position. A look of confusion is etched on Nic’s face. It’s clear we’re having a moment, which has nothing at all to do with dancing. As the couple at the other end of the row link hands and gallop down the centre of the floor, the line begins to move down and suddenly it’s our turn.
Nic grabs my hands and we skip to the right. Oblivious to the other dancers, we edge towards the end of the two lines of people watching us, as we gallop past. When it’s time to let go and we face each other across the divide, my heart is pounding and inside my head I hear a loud and unmistakable, Oh, no. This can’t be happening. Not now.
*
‘I’ll see you to the door. I usually turn the outside light on if I’m out for the evening.’
Nic guides me by the elbow as we negotiate the gate and start walking up the winding path to the door. It’s almost pitch black and much later than I’d anticipated.
I fumble for the key, my nerves jangling and my mind a ball of confusion. What happened this evening? Nic waits patiently and eventually the key is in the lock and I hear the click as it turns. The door swings open and I take one step inside. My mouth goes very dry, so I don’t say anything. In the darkness Nic takes one step forward and suddenly his face is up close, his eyes reflecting the same dilemma.
‘I… um… need to kick off these shoes as my feet are killing me.’ The words I manage to squeeze out don’t flow very well and it sounds lame.
‘Yeah. I don’t think I’ve ever lasted that long on a dance floor before. It was fun. Unexpected, but fun.’
We’re playing eye tennis and as I turn my head slightly to break the contact, Nic leans in to kiss my cheek. I don’t think he was intending to kiss my mouth and it’s a relief, because a l
ittle quiver passes through me and my legs begin to wobble.
‘Sleep well,’ he murmurs. He turns on his heels and is gone before I have time to think of something to say. I stand there with the door open wide, unable to move. The sound of the car engine kicking into life prompts me into action, and I lock up, kick off my shoes and make my way upstairs wondering what on earth was wrong with me tonight.
16
Is This Really How it Happens?
I’m up early, having spent a lot of the night slipping in and out of dreams that seemed to be driven by snippets of country music. I think at one point I was even dancing in my sleep. Nic’s eyes seemed to be there at every turn, watching me, smiling at me and connecting with me.
Even lying back and closing my eyes, his face is still there, as if it’s imprinted on the inside of my head. The music starts to fade and his hands reach out for mine. As our fingers touch he feels real, even though I know this is a daydream.
I vault out of bed and stand under the shower, letting the warmth of the water wash away my dream. There’s only one way to calm a turbulent mind and that’s to work.
Playing back Paige’s interview, she said she knew Darren was the one when she first set eyes on him. And yet, leafing back through my notes from Veronica’s interview, she said it wasn’t until their third date she had this gut feeling that Liam was meant to be in her life. That has me scrabbling to check the guys’ interviews.
Liam said that Veronica grew on him and suddenly dates weren’t planned, they were taken for granted. That doesn’t sound very romantic to me. Darren’s response was very different. He said that he could read Paige’s feelings, as he saw it in her eyes. He told me that relief flooded over him as it would have broken his heart if she hadn’t felt it, too.
I’m a journalist, not an expert on love, because you need to experience it first-hand in order to understand it, I suppose. But the difference between these two couples was gnawing away at me, like a crossword clue you can’t solve. I wonder what it was that I saw reflected back at me on Nic’s face last night. I remember Darren’s eloquent description when he talked about the moment he fell in love. You’d know if it was the real thing, wouldn’t you? You couldn’t mistake it for something else, like pure lust. Could you? And how do you recognise it in someone else?