‘OK. Ring me tomorrow.’ Tubb hesitated. ‘Have you heard anything from Lily? She and the others have set off a day early.’ He sounded guarded, as if he wanted more information without giving his feelings away.
Slowly, Isaac sank down on the bed, thinking back to his earlier conversation with Lily. He’d assumed she’d been in Schützenberg. ‘I didn’t know that. Is she driving?’
‘I assume so as she’d certainly intended to drive on Monday but things got a bit … it was down to me to get Ona to the hospital. We didn’t want to wait for Max to get there.’ He paused but Isaac didn’t fill in any blanks. He was pretty sure he wasn’t meant to disclose that he’d known for a while about Lily being Tubb’s sister or about Tubb’s furious reaction to Lily telling Garrick the truth. If there were sides to be taken here, he was on Lily’s. ‘Lily’s not answering her phone,’ Tubb added.
Isaac made a non-committal noise. ‘It’s nearly ten in your time zone, isn’t it? Maybe she’s asleep.’ He said goodbye, upset and worried at the memory of how empty Lily had sounded. He tried to call her back, ostensibly about Tubb’s call but actually to be there for her. Or just to hear her voice.
There was no reply.
He wondered if the Middletones had stopped at the same hotel in Chalons en Champagne as on the way there. He envisaged his room there and Lily in it, the feel of her wet soapy hair slipping through his fingers and her sensitive scalp beneath his fingertips.
He was suddenly swamped with worry for her. Was she able to wash her own hair now?
How was her hand?
Had she coped with the driving on the way home?
Lily had helped him get back to England, which suggested that she thought him helping a post-operative woman was more important than helping one with a badly bruised hand … but now, reflecting on her battling valiantly across the continent, possibly in pain, he felt as if he’d let her down.
Chapter Twenty-One
The sight of Middledip had never been so welcome. Lily drove the minibus into Main Road in the middle of Monday afternoon. The village lacked the snow that had made Schützenberg look like a fairy tale but it looked pretty under the bright winter sun and Lily could have cried with relief to be home. It must have been because she was exhausted after the marathon drive.
The journey had been uneventful, lacking the excitement that had bubbled within them all on the outward leg. No problems had cropped up taking Doggo through pet passport control even though Lily had never received the email from Isaac to show the officials she had permission to re-enter him into the UK. Isaac had been too busy nursing Hayley, obviously.
It took another half an hour to drop everyone off at their own homes, pasting on a smile as she jumped out to hug each one as their destination was reached. ‘Thanks for being part of our big Swiss adventure! See you soon! Thanks again!’
Franciszka was the last, and then, finally, Lily could drive to Carola’s house to empty the minibus of everything that was left, including wrestling out Doggo’s crate, which took Lily, Carola, Charlotte and Emily all heaving at once, even without Doggo in it.
Carola said, ‘Do you need any help with anything, Lily?’ But she already had her phone in her hand and Lily knew she was bursting to be reunited with Owen.
‘I’m fine,’ Lily assured her, preparing to wheel her case round to her apartment, Doggo’s lead clutched in the same hand. ‘It’s been wonderful, hasn’t it? Thank you for taking part!’ Lily hugged each of them in turn.
Her smile fell away once she was out of sight. Safely in her little apartment she abandoned her case and backpack and placed Doggo’s bed in a corner of the hall next to the radiator.
She worked out how to use the harness that made it safe for him to travel like a human then drove him in the minibus, looking very regal in the front seat, back to Acting Instrumental before it shut for the day. Feeling as if she never wanted to drive again, she and Doggo strolled the mile and a bit back into Middledip, looping around the village to visit Booze & News where she bought dog food and, in a rush of affection for the companionable canine, Bonios and Dentastix.
‘Didn’t know you had a pooch,’ observed Melanie behind the counter, ringing up the purchases.
‘Looking after one for a couple of days,’ Lily said briefly. She trailed home. Doggo paused at The Three Fishes, its strings of lights burning brightly in the darkness, his ears pricked and one paw raised, gazing at Lily with a ‘WTF?’ expression.
‘Soon,’ she murmured. ‘You can go back to him.’ Then she went home and locked her and Doggo into her apartment. And the rest of the world out.
Tuesday was spent with the washing machine whirring and, with Carola, tying up the last few trip-related loose ends.
Lily tried not to outstay her welcome in Carola’s kitchen, tastefully decorated with holly and red baubles, because Owen was there, on sick leave with bruising on his temple and two black eyes. A stitched cut at the corner of his mouth made him look a bit Nightmare Before Christmas. Lily hugged him as if he were made of eggshell. ‘You poor thing! I hope the police have the bastards who did this.’
Owen talked cautiously out of the unstitched side of his mouth. ‘They have CCTV footage of three people in black hoodies and scarves. Not much to go on.’ He and Carola kept holding hands or giving each long looks, Carola bestowing tiny caresses to his poor bruised face and asking if he was quite sure he was all right.
The only thing marring Carola’s happiness, it seemed, was the issue of her ex. ‘It’s bothersome,’ she confided under her breath as Lily prepared to depart through the kitchen door to her own quarters. ‘It’s my turn to have the girls for Christmas but because Duncan’s no longer comfortably loved up with Sherri he’s gone all hangdog about it. He moved up to Bettsbrough yesterday, sleeping on his brother’s sofa as they don’t actually have room for him, he told Charlotte. He’s constantly on the phone to his solicitor to try and get his dosh out of Sherri. The girls have gone all soppy about him. Emily’s even asked whether we can invite him on Christmas Day.’ Carola pulled a face. ‘It’s my first Christmas with Owen but …’
Lily pulled a sympathetic face as Carola went back to Owen and Lily opened the door, a dancing dog greeting her on the staircase as if she’d been gone for a month, half a Dentastick in his mouth. ‘Go on down.’ She laughed, and he ran down looking at her over his shoulder, which seemed tricky but he accomplished it with ease.
Once the washing machine was emptied and the clothes were dancing on the line outside, Lily checked her email inbox in case of enquiries from anyone wanting her exhibition design skills.
Nothing.
She emailed the two clients she expected to work with on their stands for the London Book Fair in March and tried to pin them down to meetings or telephone conversations, Doggo lying comfortingly on her feet as she worked.
She opened her calendar and saw she was supposed to be working at The Three Fishes on Friday, noon till three and six till closing. Friday the 13th. It seemed like a bad omen. Was she even still employed at the pub? Tubb hadn’t been in touch. She took her phone out. Nope, still nothing.
After considering her injured hand for a minute and flexing it she rang Tina. It was eleven forty-five so she’d be about to open.
‘Hey, stranger!’ Tina said warmly. ‘How’s everything?’
They chatted for several minutes before Lily, concentrating on sounding normal, whatever normal was, said, ‘My hand’s good enough for me to come back to work on Friday if it can be lightish duties.’
Tina breathed an audible sigh of relief. ‘Excellent. I want all hands on deck – even rather bashed-up hands, ha-ha – so I can take time off in lieu of the extra shifts I’ve worked. My family has forgotten what I look like while you guys have been away.’
‘Great, thank you,’ Lily said gratefully. She wanted to ask about Isaac but forced herself not to. ‘I’ll be there on Friday,’ she assured Tina, crossing her fingers and mentally adding, ‘if no one rings and tells me othe
rwise’. Unless she had some exhibition work to begin on soon, she’d need her income from The Three Fishes. It paid her modest rent. She had money to fall back on but only as long as she didn’t fall too heavily or for too long.
Feeling increasingly loose-endy she took Doggo out, joining the footpaths that looped around the village at the top end so as not to pass near the pub, despite assuming Isaac to be at Hayley’s place in Peterborough, when he wasn’t driving her to appointments.
As she strode through a landscape peeled bare by winter she reflected on Carola and Owen’s happiness and wondered also whether Neil and Franciszka would carry on their relationship now they were back in the village. As they had never discussed what would happen to the Middletones once the Swiss trip was over, Lily didn’t know when she’d see Neil, Eddie, Alfie and Warwick.
Lily had spent so much time with them since early summer that she missed them. Felt isolated and left out. And, for that matter, as she halted on a windswept, muddy footpath where brambles shook spiky arms at her, shut out … by her brothers.
She took out her phone, standing there with it in her hand so long with the wind whipping across the Fens and into her face that Doggo halted and looked back, his tail stuck out straight behind and a paw raised as if not sure how to go forward.
Then Lily did what she’d so often done when she was troubled. She texted her sister. I’m back in England. Want to meet up?
It was later on Tuesday afternoon when Isaac parked his car behind The Three Fishes. He glanced at Hayley in the passenger seat, her floral bag at her feet, tubes passing to it from beneath her shirt and coat. ‘Sure you’re going to be OK with this?’
Though pallid, she managed a smile. ‘I’m just grateful your boss is letting you move me in. I’d hate you to have risked your job—’ Her sentence stalled, a flush fanning her cheeks.
It took Isaac a moment to realise she must have remembered that his job at The Three Fishes and the events leading up to it had been a tricky subject. It all seemed so far in the past now. ‘It seems a reasonable solution,’ he said, removing his keys from the ignition. ‘I’ve never looked in the guest accommodation you’re going to have but I think it’ll be OK. Tina said she’d leave it clean and tidy for you.’
Upstairs, they found Tina had left the keys to the second guest room in the door. The room was done out in shades of lavender; there was a rip in the wallpaper near the bed but otherwise it was OK. The bathroom held a shower cubicle, which would give Hayley somewhere to stand and wash, her drain bag hanging beside her while he held a bowl of soapy water and looked the other way.
‘You sit yourself down and I’ll bring your stuff up.’ Isaac watched as Hayley sat down in the grey wing-backed chair near the window then began ferrying her stuff upstairs.
‘How are you doing?’ he asked half an hour later, when her clothes were put away and the TV was working.
‘Knackered,’ she said frankly, giving him a wan smile. ‘Thank you, Isaac. Thanks a lot. I think I’m going to lie down and try and nap. I’m a lot more comfortable with the first drain out.’
‘I’m going into my room next door to check I have clean work clothes, then I’m going down to touch base with Tina when she’s opened for the evening session. If you want anything, ring me. I’ll only be twenty seconds away.’
Hayley levered herself gingerly from the chair and headed for the bed while he took one of the room keys before heading for his own space. He did have to do the things he’d outlined to Hayley but he had something else to do too.
Letting himself into his room, which felt like a sanctuary after the past four days, he rang Lily.
She didn’t pick up but her voicemail invited him to leave a message after the beep.
‘Hi, it’s me,’ he said. ‘When you pick up this message, can you please get in contact? I’m back at the pub.’ Then, feeling some explanation was needed: ‘Tubb said I could bring Hayley back here so she’s got someone nearby to help when she needs it.’ Hell, that wasn’t the right explanation. ‘She’s in the other guest accommodation,’ he added quickly, wishing he hadn’t mentioned Hayley at all because some subjects were definitely best dealt with face to face. He looked for a way to start recording the message again but Lily’s network evidently didn’t support it. Before he could add, ‘Are you OK? I miss you,’ the end-of-message beep sounded.
Crap. If he rang back to leave another message thinking of her would sound like such an afterthought.
Mood low, he ironed a couple of shirts and a pair of trousers then went down to go through things with Tina. It was hard to keep his mind on the staff rota, beer temperatures and line flushing when he just wanted to talk to Lily.
When he got back upstairs, feeling a certain relief in having attained an hour’s normality before cooking something for his and Hayley’s dinner – a sentence he hadn’t known he’d ever think again – he realised he’d left his phone in his room.
Lily had rung. He listened to the message. Her voice was quiet and neutral. ‘I hope Hayley’s progressing well. Do give her my best wishes. I hope you don’t mind not getting Doggo back today because I’m out this evening and he’s with me. He’s being a good boy. I didn’t think his enormous dog cave would fit in my little hatchback so I used his seatbelt harness.’ Then, after a pause, ‘Bye!’ The message ended.
For several seconds he stood in the centre of the room that had been home for the past few months, weighing the phone in his hand, wishing that Hayley hadn’t needed his help. For her own sake, of course, he wished devoutly that she’d never developed cancer and needed a mastectomy, the effects of which he could only try his best to understand.
But he was selfish enough to wish she’d never needed his help. That very real need was tricky to balance with what he’d begun in Switzerland with Lily.
The fact that Lily seemed to have withdrawn from him wasn’t helping one bit.
He thought about calling her back. Maybe now would be a good time to mention that when the Hayley crisis was over he was reconsidering his decision to leave the village. What had begun with Lily in Schützenberg was too good to just throw away and he was sure he could arrange—
His phone rang and Hayley appeared on the screen. He glanced at his bedside clock as he answered. ‘Hi, Hayley. It’s nearly time for you to have more pills, isn’t it? I’ll get something out of the freezer for dinner.’
Even to his ears that sounded like the old days.
Chapter Twenty-Two
We’ve still only got half a kitchen but the new cooker is in. Come for dinner at seven.
It was typical of Zinnia that an invitation was phrased as an instruction but Lily decided to accept the olive branch. Thank you. I’m dog-sitting for a couple of days though. OK to bring him? He’s at least as well behaved as me.
No prob, bring him, Zinnia replied.
A light-up reindeer pranced on the porch of the neat, ex-council semi-detached house Zinnia lived in with her boyfriend George. The narrow street was crowded with cars but Lily found a place to park. As it was still only five to seven she used the time to listen to a voicemail that had come in while she’d been driving from Middledip to Huntingdon. Her heart put in an extra beat when she heard Isaac’s voice. ‘Hi, it’s me. When you pick up this message, can you please get in contact? I’m back at the pub.’ Her heart skipped again. Had Hayley’s friends returned to look after her?
Isaac’s warm, even voice went on. ‘Tubb said I could bring Hayley back here so she’s got someone nearby to help when she needs it.’ Oh.
A hesitation, then he said, ‘She’s in the other guest accommodation.’ The last few words were rushed, uncertain.
He’d installed Hayley at The Three Fishes and he sounded weird about it. Defensive. Lily’s heart slowed to a dragging, sinking rhythm, a heart she’d apparently opened up to him in one night of sex, fast and hard or slow and languorous, waking each other for more. Pathways of kisses, stroking fingers, hard flesh in soft.
There would be no
more now. It would feel as if she was doing something wrong because he was, on some basis, involved with Hayley again. She sighed.
They had to make contact because of Doggo and the stuff he’d left behind in Switzerland but it was a relief when he didn’t answer his phone. She left a message, carefully pragmatic and bland.
From the back seat, Doggo whined as if to say that the car had stopped and so it was now Lily’s duty to take him somewhere fun. Smiling at his quivering tail and flattened ears Lily got him out, waited while he cocked his leg on Zinnia’s gate post then said, ‘C’mon then. Let’s see what kind of mood she’s in. I hope it’s not a difficult one because I could actually do with a hug.’
Zinnia and George did welcome Lily with literally open arms, taking it in turns to pull her in for the hugs she’d wished for. George was the strong, silent type, both good qualities for Zinnia’s boyfriend, but he opened up enough to say, ‘I’m really glad you’ve shown up because your sister’s moping for you.’
‘I am,’ Zinnia confirmed, making a faux sad face with big eyes and a quivering lip. Then she hugged Lily again, causing Doggo to try and shove in for his share of fuss.
They went into the kitchen to gaze at the half-stripped, half-burnt surroundings, the new range cooker representing progress. Zinnia went into great detail about how the finished result would look while George nodded along, simultaneously checking on the lasagne in the oven and ripping open bags of salad from the fridge, which had survived the fire. Smoke had damaged other parts of the house but those walls had already been painted.
It was an atmosphere so much like the one Lily was used to with her sister, before the existence of her half-brothers intervened, that her heart blossomed. She felt … she felt safe again with Zinnia. It was such a relief that her knees actually wobbled.
A dodgy moment arose when Zinnia caught sight of Lily’s left hand, currently turning brown. ‘Oh, Lileeee,’ she keened, eyes horrified. ‘Just look at that! Poor you. I’m so sorry; you know I’m sorry, don’t you? I absolutely didn’t mean to hurt you like that. I can’t blame you for not wanting to talk to me for a while. You must hate me.’ And she burst into tears.
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