by Lucy Coleman
When the stomach is full it lets you know, and I’m done eating. When the heart is full, that lets you know, too, and right now my heart is brimming over.
‘Listen. Can you hear that?’ Gray turns his head, first one way and then the other.
I strain my ears, shaking my head emphatically. ‘No. What is it?’
All I’m conscious of at the moment is the wonderful smell of a freshly cleaned house, with a hint of lemon floor cleaner tickling my nose and threatening to make me sneeze.
‘The sound of us, alone together – at last!’
It’s hard not to smile at his enthusiasm as he spins me around in his arms, like dancers on a stage, as he hums softly under his breath.
‘And Bert,’ I add, looking across as he stands guard in front of the patio doors.
‘So, you’re adamant he’s staying inside. Even during the summer?’
‘Yep. And when we move into the cottage he’s coming too, don’t forget.’
Gray shakes his head at me, soberly.
‘Some women need expensive clothes and flashy jewellery to keep them happy. My darling Immi, on the other hand, simply requires her grandmother’s ring and a lump of cast iron to put a smile on her face. How am I ever going to figure out what to give you in the years to come? All those birthdays, anniversaries and Christmases?’
He’s poking fun at me, humming in between.
‘Shoo, shoo, shoo, shoo-be-doo, doo, doo, it’s raining teardrops.’
I shoot him a quizzical look.
‘Teardrops?’
‘It’s an ad for the prevention of dry eyes.’
Oh dear. I know Gray is up against it when his head is full of tracks for fifteen-second TV commercials, again.
‘You haven’t given up on finishing off that beautiful soundtrack you were working on, have you?’
He edges closer to the glass doors, feigning a sudden interest in whatever is beyond the immediate glow of the patio lights.
‘No. It’s just temporarily on ice for a while, until it’s going somewhere.’
Does that mean he still hasn’t heard back from the guy who, unfortunately, raised his hopes and hasn’t even had the courtesy to put him out of his misery?
‘I need to pay the bills and put my ego firmly in its place. It’s a waste of life being a dreamer and it’s time to focus on quantity, rather than quality. Hey, composing can still give me a reasonable income, although, I will admit, I’ve been offered a different job and I’m sorely tempted to consider taking that, instead.’
He sounds accepting of the situation, but I know he’s not; not really. Gray is trying to side-line his creative spark and dismiss it as a foolish indulgence, but he has real talent and I believe in him. The musical track he’s been working on is atmospheric, and at times menacing. It’s edge-of-your-seat stuff, which is what the brief called for.
‘You’ve heard nothing – not even a “thank you, but no, thank you”?’
‘No. If Ollie was going to get back to me it would have been a few days before Christmas. He was flying out the day before Christmas Eve to spend the holidays with his family in Chamonix, skiing. I didn’t get the gig… but I did get the girl!’
‘You most certainly did get the girl. And she’ll be counting down the hours until you’re back with her, once more.’
It goes very quiet and I assume Gray has switched off when, out of nowhere, he says, ‘Aha!’
‘What?’ I ask, wondering what on earth has popped into his head now.
‘Give me a moment. I need to think this through.’
The seconds pass as I peer up at him.
‘I think I’ve figured out how we’re going to be able to move Bert safely across to the cottage. It took four of us to move him from the garage to the patio, and it was a nightmare over the uneven ground. The patio slabs out the back are fairly cheap to replace and perfectly flat, so it was a risk worth taking. But Tollie will never forgive me if I damage those wonderful old flagstones in the courtyard leading over to the cottage. Even if it is to please his beloved granddaughter. So, what we need to do is to build a flatbed trolley and then tip Bert on his side. It’ll spread the weight more evenly and we’ll be less likely to put anyone’s back out in the process.’
‘There you go, Bert, my genius of a fiancé has solved the problem. Can we relax now, please? My arms and shoulders are killing me, and I need a massage before I slip into a hot bath.’
‘Ah, my magic fingers are required. It will also give me a chance to run a few new tunes past you that have been whirling around inside my head all day. Dog food is sort of a new area for me and it has to be snappy.’
And as we make our way upstairs it’s funny how quickly all thoughts of tiredness, aches and pains can fall away when your heart begins to race, and those endorphins begin to buzz around your body.
When, finally, it’s time for bed and I fall into Gray’s arms, a feeling of peace consumes me. He’s the person who turns my half-empty glass into a glass half full. As the heat of his body begins to warm the chill on my skin, he starts to hum ‘What A Wonderful World’ – and it is.
27
The Spirit of Christmas Has Suddenly… Evaporated
After a bitter-sweet night, conscious that we were both counting down our final hours together, yesterday was tough. Waving goodbye to Gray and Rona as they headed off home to pack, made it all gut-wrenchingly real. It’s going to be the longest two weeks of my life. But today feels even tougher. I’ve gone from having a house crammed full of people, to being totally alone. I know Tollie is just across the way, but he has a couple of full days planned helping Bernie and Yvonne up at Turnpike Cottage.
This morning I feel empty and so achingly lonely. That awful feeling I remember only too well from my childhood. Times when I woke up in the middle of the night wondering why. Why me? When I was a child it was all very simple – I had clearly done something wrong; I was unlovable. That was the battle my dad fought, every single day – telling me over and over again, ‘I love you, baby, and even though Mummy isn’t with us, she loves you too.’
Did he believe that, or was he saying it to mend my broken heart? Every parting from someone I love drags up the familiar insecurities; not least the fear over whether I will ever see them again. As an adult I know it’s illogical, but it’s imprinted deep within me and at times I don’t feel whole. A piece of me has always been missing.
Rona and Gray will be on their way up to Heathrow in a few hours’ time. When we texted, earlier, I assured Gray I was fine and that I was going to begin sorting through the cupboards to declutter. When we swap over with Tollie, there’s little point in moving stuff I haven’t touched in a long while and I need to make room for Gray’s things.
I was telling the truth, but the main reason was that I didn’t want him to feel he had to keep texting or ringing me all the time. Rona will be both excited and nervous, I suspect, and deserves his full attention.
Sounding bright and cheerful, I told him to let me know when they were at the airport and then when they had landed. He seemed reassured. But thoughts of him never leave my mind and it’s hard to get motivated.
Slumping down onto the sofa, I groan as every single joint in my body aches. Am I thinking myself into some sort of a depression? Compared to a lot of people I’m very lucky indeed. Am I such a wimp that I can’t face being alone for a couple of weeks? It’s pathetic, that’s what it is – I’m pathetic when things are finally going so well.
The sound of the doorbell makes me reluctantly ease myself up onto my feet. It’s probably the postman with a parcel Tollie asked me to look out for, as he was up and out early this morning.
However, when I swing open the door, it’s Valerie I see standing before me with a bunch of roses in her hands.
‘I thought it was a parcel for Tollie. Come in, Valerie.’
‘I’m not disturbing you, am I?’ she asks nervously.
‘No. Not at all. Come through and slip off your coat.’
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sp; Her eyes flick over my face and she hesitates for a moment. As I open the door a little wider, she steps inside.
‘These are for you, just to say thank you for making Christmas so special.’
I take them from her, lifting them up to my nose and breathing in their fragrance. The bouquet reminds me of summer and Tollie’s profusion of climbing roses. ‘You shouldn’t have – it’s very kind. I love roses.’ Giving her a grateful smile, I notice that she looks rather unsettled. I hope nothing has gone wrong between her and Fisher.
Valerie hangs her coat on a peg in the hallway and then follows me over to the sofas.
‘You were wonderful, coping with everything and everyone like that… disrupting your carefully made plans. And Liam went off with a smile on his face. I gather that’s partly down to you. He didn’t say very much, but he gave me a hug when he left and said he’d ring me in a few days’ time.’
I indicate for her to take a seat, while I walk over to fill a jug with water. She seems content to sit and chat while I snip off the bottom of the stems and arrange the flowers.
‘Liam told me the two of you had talked.’
She seems all right with that, but I think it’s best to clarify I wasn’t giving away any secrets.
‘We only had a brief chat when we were gritting the path outside the marina’s offices.’
Valerie shifts around in her seat, while I continue clipping and trimming leaves. I can sense that she wants to know more, but there’s little to tell her.
‘He questioned me about Jack, but I think you had already set his mind at rest on that front, Immi.’
I stop what I’m doing to look across at her.
‘I told him that I’d worked very happily alongside Fisher for several years and that he’s like a second dad to me. Liam just wanted to check you were safe and didn’t feel lonely, I think.’
She looks startled, but I can’t think why, because it’s the truth. Finishing up quickly and throwing the cellophane wrapper in the bin, I carry the vase of roses across to place them in the centre of the coffee table.
‘There, don’t they brighten the room? I, um… hope I didn’t speak out of turn,’ I offer, apologetically.
‘No, no. Liam was simply looking for a little reassurance and you were kind enough to provide that. He seemed to get on well with Jack, the couple of times I saw them chatting. I’m not known for jumping into things and Liam was a little surprised about our friendship. And that’s all it is, Immi, friendship.’
There’s a firmness to her voice, but I don’t feel it’s aimed at me, more that she’s trying to convince herself that’s the case.
‘But a friendship that might develop, I hope?’ It’s pointless either of us trying to pretend the connection between her and Fisher isn’t getting stronger by the day.
‘Well, I’m sure our working relationship will continue to grow, and I do appreciate having a job that takes me out away from the cottage. Working from home is a little isolating, I’ve come to find.’
She’s being cautious and I wouldn’t expect any different, but she sounds uneasy for some reason and I can’t think why that should be.
‘So, how are you doing, Immi?’
Now she’s changing the subject.
It’s a tough question to answer and my sense of emptiness is back, in a flash.
‘It’s quiet and I will admit that I really miss Gray. Which is silly, because I’m so used to him not being able to stay.’
Rather absent-mindedly I find myself twiddling with the ring on my finger.
‘Yes, but this Christmas was special, and things have changed now. You’re bound to miss him more now you’re engaged.’
‘I do, but I think I’m coming down with something too, so I’m wallowing a little – just ignore me.’
‘Immi, I can’t help thinking about the people who have let you down in the past. On Christmas Day when I said that you were a beautiful person inside and out, I really meant it. I saw how much it grieved you that your grandma and your dad weren’t there to celebrate your engagement. I so vividly remember Nell wearing that ring and telling me with bright, shining eyes that one day some wonderful young man would place it on your finger. That was her wish and Tollie didn’t forget.’
‘Oh, Valerie. It never occurred to me to stop and think that staying here would dredge up old memories for you, too. You didn’t just work here, you and Grandma were friends. And you continued looking after Tollie until I made everyone’s life difficult and you left.’
‘It was a joint decision between Tollie and me that I stopped coming here to help. We thought it was for the best. It wasn’t your fault though, Immi. It’s my fault and it’s down to me to tell you the truth and suffer the consequences, because it’s only right.’
Now I’m confused.
‘I came back to the area as it was time I stopped running away from the past.’
‘Is this to do with your mother’s life here?’ I enquire gently. ‘Liam mentioned something about a link to the manor.’
‘Oh dear, it’s such a long story and it isn’t really relevant. However, now he’s mentioned it, I’d best explain. My grandmother had an affair with Henry Smythe, the man whose name you said rang a bell when you saw his photograph on the wall at the Linden Hotel. She was a nurse, looking after hospital patients who were sent home to recuperate.’
‘But he was the person standing in the garden of Lock Keeper’s Cottage.’ Why didn’t Valerie mention this, that day when I went to tea with her?
‘He was. His wife contracted tuberculosis and after a long spell in hospital they moved her into the cottage, which was on his family’s estate. The day you sent me the photo it was the first time I’d ever seen his image. His wife eventually deteriorated and died in hospital some time later. Henry never moved back into the manor and there’s no proof my grandmother ever told him she was pregnant.
‘He continued to live there, alone, until his death, having no interest in the world outside his front door. Leaving no heirs, when he died everything he owned went to his brother, Joseph. No father’s name was shown on my mother’s birth certificate and it wasn’t until we were clearing out my grandmother’s things that we discovered a letter from Henry apologising for his “unforgivable actions”. Judging by the tone of his letter, we realised what had probably happened.’
‘That’s incredible. What a story and how sad that the truth never came out.’
Valerie looks dismissive. ‘It was 1936 and, as often happened in those days, my grandmother’s pregnancy was kept hidden. She was sent away to stay with an aunt until Mum was born. Our lives had no connection to the way the Smythes lived and none of us would have been comfortable in that environment.
‘The risk of a woman dying in childbirth in the nineteen thirties was high. It wasn’t uncommon for families to take in a deceased relative’s baby. People might have gossiped a little, but life goes on. My mother worked hard and as a headmistress ended up being well regarded in the community. Things are very different nowadays, thankfully, but in the past every family had secrets that were rarely brought to light. I’m very interested in it from a historical and a personal point of view, but I have no interest beyond that. But I will admit, I was hoping that among those old photographs there might have been one of him in the garden here, with his wife. And maybe the woman who nursed her.’
‘I can understand your curiosity. It’s a lovely way of looking at it, Valerie, and very respectful when you could so easily feel resentful for what must have been a tough time for your family to get through.’
‘It’s the reason Liam thinks I returned here, having overheard a part of a conversation I’d had with Mum, a long time ago. But a chance comment Liam made before he left made me break a pact I’d made with myself a long time ago and that’s what brought me here to see you, today.’
‘Um, Valerie, I’m having a bit of difficulty keeping up with this. Am I missing something, because I can’t see what this has to do with me?’
/> ‘Liam assumed that’s why I came back here. To see if I could find out what really happened, once and for all, and that suited me, but it wasn’t the real reason. Oh dear, this is truly heartbreaking, Immi, because there’s no easy way to say this. I’m the woman who walked away from her husband, Sean, and our darling little daughter all those years ago. Only Tollie and Bernie know the truth, now that Nell and Sean are no longer with us. Liam has no idea whatsoever that I have links of my own here.’
I’m too dazed to speak. How can that be? Wouldn’t I know instinctively if I was sitting opposite my mother and not simply a neighbour who has become a friend?
‘But you can’t be.’
She wipes away a solitary tear that begins to trickle down her cheek.
‘I know you deserve better, Immi.’ Valerie’s voice is hoarse with emotion as she anxiously twists her hands together, struggling to remain composed. ‘When I bought Byre Cottage, I came to see Nell and Tollie, to beg their forgiveness and to explain. I was very young when I had you and it was several years after I left, before my condition was diagnosed. Then it was too late.’
My head is spinning. ‘Condition? Too late for what?’
I watch as she swipes her hands across her eyes, then stares down at her lap.
‘To try to redeem myself; to make contact with Sean and explain, but by then you were both settled in a place that wasn’t a constant reminder for him of how I’d destroyed our life together. We’d been so happy, until without warning everything changed.’
‘But my mother’s name wasn’t Valerie; that’s not the name on my birth certificate.’
‘I know, it’s Alison. Alison James. I changed my name by deed poll a year before I met Jeffery Price.’
I stare at her, horrified as the words sink in.
‘Why have a baby if you don’t intend to love it and cherish it with every fibre of your being? There is no excuse, no reason on earth to forgive anyone for leaving their own child.’
‘You’re looking at me like I’m a monster and I deserve it.’