by Ellen Berry
‘Nope – never came close. These past ten years or so – well, I was seeing someone on and off, but that’s petered out now.’ He chuckled. ‘Not sounding terribly good at this, am I?’
She almost felt sorry for him, hearing all of this. One relationship after another, which ended up going nowhere. Like her, Connell was forty-three. While she wasn’t of the belief that everyone should be settled down into coupledom and domesticity, she sensed a hint of phoney bravado in the way he’d described his life so far.
‘It’s just the way things have worked out for you,’ she said. ‘Better to not be in a relationship than one that’s not right.’ She paused as her phone bleeped on the coffee table, and she checked the text. It was James to say he’d be here tomorrow, and did she have time for coffee? ‘’Scuse me a sec,’ she said, quickly tapping out a reply: Old college friend Connell’s here, we’ll prob spend time together catching up. She pressed send, wondering now if that had sounded a little abrupt, and if she should add, You’re welcome to come over of course.
‘Everything okay?’ Connell asked.
‘Oh, yeah. It’s just, a friend’s coming to the village tomorrow, and I’m wondering whether to say to come over, but maybe it’ll sound like I don’t really want him to now.’
He smiled. She realised they were both pretty tipsy now. ‘It’s hard for an afterthought not to sound like one when that’s what it is,’ he remarked, immediately understanding her conundrum.
Lucy grimaced. ‘It would’ve been okay if I’d said it in the first text.’
‘Yeah.’ Connell nodded. ‘And things can easily be misinterpreted in texts. Like how you got the date wrong about me coming …’
‘I got the date wrong?’ she exclaimed in mock outrage. ‘I think you’ll find it was you …’ She placed her phone back on the coffee table, having decided it was better to leave it than risk offence. ‘So, anyway,’ she added, ‘I was hearing all about your life.’
Now he was the one grimacing. ‘I hope I’m not going on.’
‘Not at all! So, you don’t have any kids of your own?’
‘Sadly not,’ Connell said, adding, ‘Yours are so like you, you know. Both of them, but especially Marnie.’
‘They’re like Ivan too,’ she said with a smile.
‘Hmm, maybe. But they have your bone structure. Your smile, too. They’re both really striking. All of you are.’
‘Oh, thank you.’ She beamed at him, touched by the compliment.
‘I have to say, you seem so together, Luce,’ he went on. ‘With this amazing house, I mean. Running a B&B on your own and being a single mum … it’s incredible really. I feel like a total underachiever compared to you.’
‘Don’t be crazy.’ She laughed kindly and looked at Connell, realising now why it was often said that there was nothing quite like being with an old friend, someone who knew you way back, when you could feasibly sleep on a staircase or feel chuffed that you had ‘invented’ a particularly thrifty dish, involving penne and baked beans.
‘No, I mean it,’ he said, turning serious now.
‘It’s lovely of you to say,’ she said. ‘Things are going okay but, you know, sometimes it’s been incredibly difficult.’ Her gaze met his. How funny, she thought, that the college party boy was sitting here with her now, in her cottage in the country. ‘My mum’s adamant that I should sell up and move closer to her and Dad,’ she added.
‘You don’t want to do that?’
She shook her head. ‘What I really don’t want is for someone to make decisions for me.’
‘Yeah, I can understand that,’ he said.
Lucy stood up, overcome by a wave of tiredness now after the party and schlepping around the village, and now all that wine. ‘You seemed to be quite a hit with my friends,’ she added with a smile as they made their way through to the kitchen.
Connell grinned self-deprecatingly. ‘Only due to my pumpkin-carving skills.’
‘I don’t think it was just that,’ she teased him. ‘Looks like you’ve still got it.’
He coloured a little, his blue eyes crinkling with amusement. ‘Well, they all seemed very friendly.’
Lucy laughed, feeling extremely glad now that he had persuaded her to let him stay tonight. She could tell he was going to be fun to have around. ‘That’s what it’s like here in the country,’ she said. ‘The locals are friendly. But if you run into them around the village and they get too much for you, don’t worry. You have a safe haven here.’
Over the past few months James had started to look forward to his visits to Burley Bridge. He’d never imagined that would be possible, but that’s how it was now, despite his dad’s perpetual cantankerousness and the fact that even the cats seemed pretty pissed off whenever he turned up. ‘He’s not normally like that,’ his father had remarked recently when Horace had hissed at him. ‘He’s like a docile little kitten when you’re not here.’ Of course, the fact that James now felt his heart lifting – rather than crashing to his feet – on his drives over from Liverpool wasn’t really anything to do with his father at all.
He loved the time he spent with Lucy and valued their friendship immensely. There was something special about being with a friend who knew you from way back – before you were a dad and a working man, with an ageing father to take care of, and all of the other responsibilities everyone accumulated as they grew older. He supposed he didn’t really have that with anyone else.
He’d been a little nervous of introducing Spike to her and her kids. In fact, he’d been conscious of putting it off, as his son was prone to shyness, just as James had been as a child, and seemed happiest when the two of them were pottering about on a boat together. Spike was one of those kids who had a couple of good mates and that was enough. It usually took him some time to relax around new people. But not so that evening with Lucy, Marnie and Sam in his granddad’s garden. Building a fire came under the banner of those camping-type activities that Spike had always loved, and he’d known what kind of wood they needed, and how to arrange it so it would catch and burn steadily, and had clearly enjoyed his role of chief fire-maker that night.
That night had felt pretty significant in other ways too. James had been flattered that Lucy had shared her concerns about Ivan’s route home the night he died (even though he’d been pretty certain there must have been a perfectly innocent explanation). But then, James had shared things with her too over the past few months. She was the only person he’d ever told about slugging all that whisky on his own and smashing that glass vase.
He’d wanted to tell her something else too that night. It was something that had been brewing in him for a long time now. But the children had come back to sit around the fire and the opportunity had slipped away. He’d hoped to grab the chance on this visit. But this time, Lucy had another old friend over, and had made no indication that it would be okay for him to pop in tomorrow. In fact, she’d made it clear that she didn’t want him to as she was spending time with Connell.
That was fine, of course. Lucy had mentioned that he was coming to stay – this old college mate who’d been so popular, clever and fun, a bit of a rebel when it came to attending lectures and handing in assignments on time, but massively talented (of course). Apparently, he was going to be working on a stained-glass project at the village school. As James washed up his dinner things in his small, cramped kitchen, he figured that Connell sounded pretty impressive, travelling the country to undertake projects like that. He caught himself feeling a little put out, and silently chastised himself for it.
Don’t be so bloody ridiculous, he told himself as he went to bed that night. So, she doesn’t want to see you this time. She’s busy. She’s spending time with this Connell person. So just get over yourself.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Connell was full of praise for Lucy’s breakfast. ‘That’s the best fry-up I can ever remember,’ he enthused. ‘But I feel bad, sitting here when you’re rushing about.’
‘This is my job,’
Lucy reminded him. ‘Anyway, remember how much clearing up you did for me last night. Just enjoy your coffee.’
‘Yes, you’re the guest here,’ Rikke added as she chivvied Marnie and Sam into their coats.
‘Did you know Connell’s coming to your school today?’ Lucy asked.
‘Why?’ Marnie asked.
‘There’s going to be an art project,’ she explained.
‘We’re going to turn the big window in the main hall into a work of art,’ Connell explained. ‘It’ll be made up of loads of pieces of stained glass, all designed by you guys …’
‘By us?’ Sam said, brightening.
‘Yeah.’ Connell nodded. ‘By all the pupils, I hope. I’d love as many kids as possible to take part.’
Yesterday, the children had been too full of excitement over Halloween to pay much attention to their guest. But now they were regarding him with interest. ‘Have you been to our school before?’ Marnie asked.
‘Nope, I’ve only seen pictures,’ Connell replied. ‘This’ll be my first time. Will you look after me?’
Marnie chuckled. ‘Yeah. Are you moving here?’
‘No, I’m just here for one more night. But I’ll be coming back before Christmas and there’ll be more visits until the project’s all done.’ He looked at Lucy. ‘And I’d love to stay here, if that’s okay with you.’
‘Of course it is,’ she said. ‘You’re always welcome.’
‘We’re heading off to school in a few minutes,’ Rikke added. ‘Would you like to walk over with us?’
‘Sure.’ Connell beamed at her. ‘I’ll just get my stuff together.’ Minutes later, they were all heading out, leaving the house suddenly quiet and Lucy alone and feeling somewhat fuzzy with her mild hangover.
As she hadn’t had one for so long, the sensation felt almost novel. In the early days, after losing Ivan, there had been several evenings when she had knocked back too much wine alone and woke up hours later, having napped on the sofa, feeling bleary and a little ashamed of herself. It had been all too tempting to lurch for a bottle the minute the children were tucked up in bed. So gradually, she had cut back on wine until she was hardly drinking at all, and only on social occasions. Last night had been fun, though – and as she headed out to the shops, she reflected upon how funny it was that James had popped up from her childhood, and now Connell from her student years too.
It was a cloudy morning with a heaviness in the air. Lucy did the rounds of the village shops, slightly regretting that text she’d sent to James last night, saying she was busy today – but it was too late to do anything about that now. She wasn’t about to mess him around by suddenly being available after all. Instead, she focused on selecting fresh vegetables with a plan to make soup, grateful for the easy chatter of the girls who worked in the greengrocer’s.
When they had first moved here, Ivan had remarked, in his bemused way, that buying something as simple as an apple generally involved a chat about the weather and children, and what did he think about the pub’s new lunchtime menu – had he tried it yet? ‘Everything takes a hundred years,’ he’d said, clearly still operating on city time. But Lucy had loved it then, and she was starting to love it again now. There was a feeling of generosity here – that people actually cared. And when Connell returned from his meeting just before lunch, she was keen to show him why she had fallen in love with Burley Bridge way back when she’d been a child.
As she often did when requested by guests, Lucy had made packed lunches in brown paper bags. ‘So Famous Five-ish,’ Connell said with a grin. ‘Are we off to find some smugglers?’
‘You never know what we’ll find,’ Lucy replied, catching the scent from the rosemary bush at the front door as they left the house.
The sky had darkened a little as they climbed away from the village and up into the hills. ‘The kids were so enthusiastic about the project,’ Connell was telling her. ‘The idea is, they’ll come up with ideas for the glass panels from nature around them. We talked about using the landscape as a starting point for ideas.’
‘There’s plenty of inspiration around here,’ Lucy said.
‘It’s stunning,’ he agreed. ‘I can see why you decided to settle here.’ He pulled out his phone and took panoramic photos of the valley. There were still patches of copper and gold in the distant forests, dulled now as the sky turned darker still. ‘What’s winter like here?’ he asked, which struck her as a naive question as they perched on a rock and delved into their brown paper bags. It was rural, yes – but hardly remote.
‘Last year was pretty mild,’ she replied, although in truth she had still barely been aware of much going on around her then. At least she wasn’t like that now. It was important to recognise that she was making progress, and to recognise how far she’d come. She caught Connell giving her a curious look.
‘Are you okay? Want to head back now?’
‘Oh, no,’ he said quickly. ‘I was just thinking, we never spent much time together back in the old days, did we?’
‘No, I guess not.’
‘You always seemed very focused and driven,’ he added, ‘and I assumed I was probably a bit flippant and stupid for you.’
‘Of course you weren’t! We just moved in different circles, that’s all. I suppose I was a bit of a swot. Maybe I should have kicked back more, not taken myself so seriously.’
‘And maybe I should have knuckled down and done some proper work.’ Connell chuckled and then bit into a sandwich.
‘You did really well, though,’ she added. ‘You sailed straight into a proper, grown-up job, as far as I heard.’
‘Yeah – the corporate world,’ he said dryly.
‘A design studio, wasn’t it? Hardly a bank or an insurance company.’
‘But a bit of a factory,’ he explained, ‘churning out work without having enough time to think things through properly. There was always way too much work and not enough people. I’m a lot happier now, doing this.’
‘And d’you have enough commissions to keep you going?’ She paused. ‘It seems very niche, doing stained glass.’
‘Oh, there’s plenty of work,’ he said. ‘There’s what you’d expect – church restorations, community projects and the odd commission for a house or a garden piece. And then a job like this one – at the school – comes along, and it’s a dream, really.’
‘You’re very lucky.’ She caught him glancing at her again.
Connell nodded, and she was aware of a stillness in the air now. ‘I suppose what I was trying to say,’ he added, ‘is that I was pretty in awe of you in college.’
‘You’re kidding,’ she said, genuinely amazed.
He smiled, looking almost bashful now. ‘No, I really was. And I, um … actually thought you were very cute.’
‘Did you?’ she exclaimed.
‘Well, yes. You were. You are, I mean …’ Her heart quickened as she studied his face. Was he flirting, or just teasing her, or what?
‘No one’s said anything like that to me in a long time,’ she said with an awkward laugh.
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to embarrass you …’ He pushed back his light brown hair.
‘You’re not. You’re not at all.’ Her heart was racing now, and his hand brushed against hers. She was keenly aware of something happening between them, something intensely disconcerting but somehow thrilling too. She held Connell’s gaze, feeling emboldened now and convinced that they were about to kiss.
Oh my God, she thought. I am going to kiss someone who’s not Ivan. She couldn’t even remember kissing anyone else, not really; it had been so long ago and seemed insignificant. They were the kisses from her distant youth, from way back in her twenties, and even her teens – on sofas, at parties and in beds, from the odd boyfriend here and there and even a one-night stand, once in a blue moon when she had been far wilder than she was now.
Her heart was still thumping as she realised that the thought of kissing Connell Davies, on whom her flatmate Jennie had nurture
d a year-long crush, didn’t appal her at all. In fact, quite the opposite. She wanted his lips upon hers, his hands all over her body. She craved someone to touch her lovingly, to kiss her deeply and make her cry out in the throes of passion. And she feared that, if no one ever made her feel that way again, she might wither and die.
Chapter Thirty-Six
A fat raindrop splashed onto her cheek. Lucy leapt up from the rock as if it had burned her. Of course she wasn’t going to kiss him! Christ, what on earth was she thinking? ‘What’s wrong?’ Connell blurted out, scrambling up too.
‘I think we’d better get back,’ she said quickly, her cheeks flaming. ‘Look at those clouds.’
He glanced up, and then back at her. ‘We won’t dissolve, will we?’ he asked in a bemused tone, hurrying after her as she started to stride down the path.
‘You might. You’re not used to our Yorkshire rain.’ As they made their way down towards the village, it was as if that moment had never happened.
‘I did study in Leeds, remember,’ he murmured. ‘I’m not completely allergic to the north.’
She forced a smile. ‘I’d better get back anyway. Tons to do.’
They walked in silence for a few minutes, until Connell remarked, ‘The good thing about this job is, it means a few trips up here to work with the kids.’ He had already told her this. Perhaps he’d forgotten. ‘I hope I can stay again?’
‘Of course,’ she said, glancing at him now. Why had she wanted to kiss him just then? Because she was genuinely attracted to him – which meant that she still had that in her, the ability to experience desire – or maybe it had just been a moment of madness? She did feel pretty crazy sometimes, her emotions still intense and unpredictable, knocking her off balance when she least expected it. Perhaps she’d just been flattered, or carried away in a whirl of nostalgia after their chats last night. Thank God she’d come to her senses there.
‘I was hoping you’d say that,’ he said lightly. ‘I should be here again before Christmas.’