A Way Back Home

by Alison Sherlock

He peered at her, his eyes barely open. ‘Better. Thanks.’

  Once the kettle had boiled, she poured him a black coffee, knowing that he didn’t take milk. It was amazing how much information seeped into one’s consciousness that you weren’t aware of.

  She handed him the mug before realising how much his hand was shaking. So she took the steaming drink back from him and put it on the table. Then she lifted a couple of boxes off the other bench and sat down opposite him.

  ‘S’nice,’ he said, nodding his head sleepily at the interior of the trailer.

  ‘Thank you,’ she replied. ‘Good weekend, was it?’

  But he shook his head. ‘Nope. Too many people. Horrible people. No one with purple hair.’ He smiled at his own joke as his unfocused eyes gazed at her.

  ‘Maybe purple hair isn’t in fashion in London this year,’ she told him.

  He shrugged his shoulders in exaggerated fashion. ‘Perhaps.’

  He looked so morose. Skye wondered whether it was just the drink, but she had a feeling he was deeply upset about something.

  ‘What happened today?’ she asked softly.

  ‘Dumped,’ he said.

  Skye’s eyes widened. He must be talking about that Maria, she thought.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, not knowing what else to say.

  ‘S’not your fault,’ he said. ‘I’m boring, apparently. Me! Ha!’

  Skye thought the woman was mad. Will Harris was one of the least boring people she had ever met.

  ‘I saved her. I got her out of there. He didn’t care about her,’ carried on Will. ‘Why else would he have hit her?’

  She only just caught his words and was horrified. ‘Her husband hit her? That Minister?’

  Will scowled. ‘Right across the face.’

  He mimed the slapping action and nearly fell off the bed.

  ‘That’s awful,’ she said.

  Will nodded his agreement.

  ‘I’m sorry you’ve had such a bad evening,’ she told him.

  A harrowed look appeared in his eyes. ‘Always bad. Horrible date. Want it over with. They died today. Not today.’ He waved his hand wildly, causing it to smash against the curtain. ‘You know. All those years ago.’

  She had suspected that it might have been the anniversary of the car crash that Annie had spoken about earlier that week and now she knew for certain.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I saw Arthur going to lay some flowers earlier.’

  Will sighed heavily. ‘Local church,’ he told her. ‘I don’t go. Can’t. Chicken.’ He made some half-hearted clucking noises before stopping.

  She pushed the mug across the table towards him, hoping he might drink some of the coffee. ‘It must be a tough time for you,’ she said.

  ‘Sam, too,’ he replied.

  ‘Of course.’ Sharing pain with a sibling was something they had in common.

  ‘But he just gets on with it,’ said Will. ‘Stronger than me. Better person.’

  ‘Maybe he just deals with things differently,’ she told him, desperately trying to make him feel better. He seemed utterly broken.

  Will frowned. ‘How?’

  Skye smiled. ‘Well, for a start he’s not always mad at me.’

  ‘Not mad at you,’ said Will, shaking his head before stopping abruptly and clutching at it. ‘Mad at me. S’all my fault.’

  Skye was confused. ‘What’s your fault?’

  ‘Shouldn’t have bought that stupid car. Then I could have helped pay for stuff around here.’

  Now she understood. He was feeling guilty about not being able to pay some of the costs of the estate. She did know money was tight for the whole family.

  ‘Maybe you can help them in another way,’ she told him. ‘We’ll think of something,’ she said, trying to keep positive for his sake.

  ‘Not me,’ slurred Will. ‘Too stupid.’

  ‘I don’t think that’s true,’ she found herself saying.

  ‘Ha!’ he suddenly said, laughing and pointing a finger at her. ‘You think I’m nice.’

  She smiled. ‘I never said nice,’ she told him. ‘Drink your coffee. You’ll feel better for it.’

  ‘Never do normally,’ he replied, but he picked up the mug and took a sip anyway. He looked up suddenly and stared at her across the table. ‘You’re very kind,’ he said.

  She raised her eyebrows. ‘I think that’s the first nice thing you’ve ever said to me,’ she told him.

  ‘He’s not right for you,’ he said, with a frown.

  Skye was startled at the abrupt change of topic. ‘Who are you talking about?’

  ‘GP Handsome or whatever his name is. Stupid name.’

  ‘Doctor Goodman, you mean,’ she said, blushing. ‘I don’t think he feels that way about me.’

  ‘Ha!’ said Will, swaying in his seat. ‘Course he does. He’d be even more of an idiot if he didn’t.’

  Skye realised that it was a compliment but didn’t say anything. She was just surprised at Will saying anything nice about her at all. It was just a shame he had to be drunk to do so.

  ‘He’s not right for you,’ he repeated.

  ‘I’ll bear that in mind,’ she told him, in a mocking tone.

  But to her surprise Will nodded in agreement. ‘He’s not funny. Very dull. You’d have a dull life with him.’

  ‘I’m not sure doctors’ wives have purple hair anyway,’ she said.

  Will appeared brighter for a moment. ‘That’s right!’ he said, a wide smile spreading across his handsome face. ‘They don’t! And you must keep your purply hair.’

  ‘I thought you didn’t like it.’

  He yawned. ‘Changed my mind,’ he said sleepily. ‘Very tired now.’ Then he slowly sank backwards onto her duvet and passed out on her bed.

  Skye waited for a moment for him to awake but he didn’t. He was out cold. She wondered whether she should wake him up but even if she could, he wasn’t going to be able to make it across to the lodge and there was no way she could move him.

  With only one option left, she stood up and carefully drew the covers over him before bringing out yet more blankets for herself and curled up on the other bench.

  It had been quite an informative chat, she realised. He liked her. He didn’t like the doctor. And he even liked her hair. All in all, it was all quite amazing considering the volatility that had existed between the two of them up until now.

  Despite the positive step forwards, she realised that she was going to have to try to sleep on the small sofa. So she brought the blankets up to her chin and resigned herself to yet another sleepless night.

  22

  Will woke up with a pounding headache and a complete sense of not knowing where on earth he was. But he was warm and dry so that at least was a start.

  As his eyes tried to focus, he wondered for a second if he had slept in the woods. Then he realised that it was the stencil on the inside walls of the trailer. Skye’s trailer.

  He sat bolt upright and then groaned at the head rush. It hurt to even look, but he gradually realised that he had been asleep in her bed but that, thankfully, he was alone.

  He groaned once more at his own stupidity and tried to remember what had happened. A weekend in London. A miserable weekend. He had been at the party with Maria. She had dumped him. And then he had somehow returned to Willow Tree Hall. How had he managed that?

  As he rubbed his aching head, he strained to hear anything but all was quiet. He was alone in the trailer. He hoped he hadn’t done anything to embarrass Skye. But when he turned his head, he found his mobile had been placed on the bedside table. It was next to a large glass of water and what appeared to be two ibuprofen tablets. He took them gratefully and then drank the remainder of the water.

  He suddenly remembered to check, but yes, he was fully clothed. Not that he would have been able to sleep with anyone in the state he must have been in the previous evening, but he was particularly grateful that he hadn’t stripped off naked in front of Skye. If
she had been home when he had arrived, of course.

  Was it possible that she had been out last night? With that doctor? Had she come home from a date and found him passed out in the trailer?

  He had a worse thought. That she hadn’t come home at all and had spent the night with Jamie bloody Goodman.

  He shivered, not only from that particular thought but also from the temperature inside the trailer. It was freezing in here. Was it always like this? How did she stand it?

  Although, now he came to think of it, the first thing she always did when she appeared in the main house each morning was to go to the fire and warm up her hands. Why hadn’t he realised how cold she must be in here each and every night? This wasn’t acceptable nor fair. Especially as they were joint owners of the lodge. Why should she have to suffer whilst he had a warmish house with bricks and a chimney to sleep in?

  The guilt threatened to overwhelm him even more than his hangover.

  He was still working up the courage to start moving when there was a gentle knock on the front door before it cautiously opened.

  Skye’s face peeped around the corner. ‘Oh, you’re awake,’ she said, with a soft smile. ‘Good morning,’ she said, coming into the trailer. ‘Or not, depending on how you’re feeling.’

  ‘Good morning,’ he replied, still a bit stunned.

  He was about to apologise when she lay a covered plate on the table next to the bed. ‘I thought you might need some toast if you can stomach it. It might be a bit cold by now though. Would you like a coffee?’

  ‘Please,’ he croaked, reaching out to the plate which was still warm. He didn’t want food but knew it would help in the long run. He realised, gratefully, that she must have struggled to carry the food along with her crutches.

  He watched as Skye flicked on the kettle before starting to fold up some blankets which were on the opposite sofa.

  ‘So, er,’ he began. ‘How much of an apology do I owe you? Flowers? My half of the lodge?’

  She smiled at him. ‘It’s fine,’ she said. ‘Except you passed out in my bed and I had to sleep on that bench over there.’

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ he said, groaning. ‘You should have woken me up.’

  ‘You’re joking,’ she told him, laughing. ‘The trailer could have slid into the river and you wouldn’t have woken up.’

  ‘So very sorry,’ he repeated. ‘It was a bad day yesterday.’

  To his surprise, she nodded. ‘I know.’ She gave him a sheepish look. ‘You told me about it being the anniversary of losing your parents.’

  He blanched. ‘I did?’

  He never spoke about this kind of stuff to anyone, even Sam.

  ‘Eat your toast,’ she told him gently, going across to make them both a coffee.

  Will wasn’t sure anything was going to take away the guilt that he felt about passing out in Skye’s bed, let alone the ramblings of a drunk man in her trailer. What had happened to the slick man about town he used to be?

  His phone buzzed with a text message, the noise making his hangover cringe.

  Are you dead?

  he read. It was from Alex.

  Alive but not kicking,

  he replied back.

  Good,

  came back the swift reply.

  You owe me £300 for getting you home in one piece.

  Alex must have paid for a taxi, thought Will. So at least that gap in his memory bank was filled in.

  Skye placed a mug of coffee on the table.

  ‘That was my friend, Alex,’ he told her, although he wasn’t sure why. ‘He was with me last night and was just making sure I made it back okay.’

  She took a sip of her own drink before replying. ‘Is that the same Alex that Annie’s spoken about? The one who designed the interior for the hall?’

  ‘Yeah. He’s a mate of mine and Sam’s from school. Just don’t tell him how good the hall looks. His ego is already vastly inflated. He’s a good guy, just a little loud, especially if you’re suffering with a hangover.’

  ‘I’m just amazed that you’re even sitting up and talking,’ she replied. ‘That’s way more than my sister was able to do in her student days after a heavy night.’

  ‘What about you?’ He was suddenly keen to know more about Skye. ‘Didn’t you party hard as well?’

  She shook her head. ‘I dropped out of college before the partying got into full swing.’

  She put down her mug. Will noticed her shivering as she did so.

  ‘Are you cold?’ he asked. ‘I’m not surprised. It’s freezing in here.’ He looked around the tiny trailer. ‘Didn’t you ever have a heater or something?’

  She shook her head, causing her long hair to waft in a purple cloud around her face. ‘I only stayed here in the summertime before now, to be honest.’

  ‘Well, that won’t do,’ he told her, running a hand through his hair. ‘It’s too cold in here. You’re moving into the smaller of the bedrooms in the lodge until I sort out the larger one.’

  She looked stunned. ‘That’s not necessary. After all, I’m leaving in a couple of days.’

  ‘I should have made it a priority before now.’

  She couldn’t meet his eyes. ‘I don’t want to invade your privacy even more than I have. I’m pretty sure you don’t want me living in the lodge with you.’

  ‘I’m quite harmless these days,’ he told her. ‘Trust me. I’m no longer the playboy around town apparently.’

  Even Maria didn’t want him. Nobody wanted him.

  He knew that he should be more upset over Maria. If he had loved her, he would have been devastated, wouldn’t he? But the fact was that he had only been pretending to enjoy himself the whole weekend when he was miserable. The only people he didn’t pretend with these days were his family.

  And Skye, he realised.

  He didn’t know why.

  *

  Once he had finished his breakfast, he thanked Skye for the toast and coffee. He stood up slowly, wincing at the pain in his head as he did so. But as he swayed slightly from the head rush, he knocked a slim sketchbook onto the floor.

  ‘Oof,’ he said, bending down to pick it up and clutched his head at the further onset of pounding. ‘Sorry about that.’ But as he straightened up once more, the pages flicked open. He was astounded at the detail and colours in front of him. Page after page of sketches of what appeared to be the ballroom filled most of the book.

  ‘I can take that,’ said Skye, removing it from his hands in a brisk manner.

  He turned to look at her. ‘These are your drawings?’

  ‘Nothing important.’ She opened a drawer and placed the book out of sight.

  She looked embarrassed and he realised that she was obviously anxious for her privacy back and he could fully understand that.

  ‘I meant what I said about you moving into the lodge,’ he told her.

  Skye shook her head. ‘There’s really no need when I’m leaving soon.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter if it’s only for one night,’ he said. ‘We’ll get something set up today.’

  She smiled gently at him. ‘I should think you’ll be feeling too rubbish to do anything today. But I do have some ideas for the lodge to go through with you at some point,’ she added.

  ‘Okay,’ he replied. ‘When I’m feeling halfway human again, I’d like to see them.’

  She nodded.

  He walked across the trailer in three paces to the door. ‘I’m going to start work on those floorboards upstairs,’ he said, feeling determined. ‘That’s the first step.’

  Skye raised her eyebrows. ‘Are you sure that you should be operating anything more powerful than a screwdriver today?’ she asked.

  Will grinned. ‘If you’re talking about a screwdriver cocktail, then definitely not. Maybe I’ll just pick up the materials today.’ He grabbed the handle on the front door before turning to look at her once more. ‘Look, er, thanks. For putting me up and also putting up with me as well. It won’t happen again.’


  ‘We all need to blow off steam sometimes,’ she told him, with a shrug.

  He looked back at her. ‘So what do you do?’

  ‘I dye my hair purple,’ she replied, with a smile.

  ‘Well, maybe I should give that a try,’ he told her and with a nod he headed out of the door.

  He stood outside the trailer for a moment, enjoying the fresh air. Then he reminded himself that it hadn’t been any less fresh inside the trailer. Floorboards and securing the upstairs of the lodge were going to be his priority now.

  As well as trying to bury yet more guilt about his behaviour.

  But he had to admit that Skye had been very kind about it all. Perhaps he should start giving her more credit than he had done previously.

  23

  That afternoon, Will was chopping up logs in an effort to try and clear his head of the hangover. He knew it wasn’t his cleverest idea, but what did he care any more?

  He didn’t mind keeping busy. He thought it would keep his mind off things as well, but the peace of the countryside merely muddled him even further.

  He was still dwelling on the conversations he had had with Skye. He was determined to make good on his promise to move her into the lodge. She deserved it. The sacrifices she had made for her younger sister were extraordinary. He couldn’t help but compare it with Sam’s behaviour, especially over the past year.

  Whereas Sam had given up his independence and London life to come home to Willow Tree Hall and help out, Will had continued his party lifestyle. He had carried on as if nothing had changed.

  He had been so selfish, he could see that now. He had never considered it from Sam’s point of view. He had thought Sam would enjoy being the future earl without realising the burden of it and sacrifices that it would entail.

  He brought the axe down and split another log in two.

  ‘Somebody’s stocking up,’ said his grandfather, suddenly appearing nearby. He looked down at the huge pile of logs that Will had already cut. ‘We won’t need to be buying any next winter when these are fully dried.’

  Will let the axe fall to his side. ‘Grandad, can I ask you something?’

  ‘Of course, my boy,’ said Arthur, easing himself onto a nearby bench that looked out over the back of the grounds. ‘Fire away.’