by Fiona Harper
And maybe that was that Louise needed as well. Time. Room to grow. A chance to discover whatever it was she needed inside herself. Of course, there were no guarantees. It might never happen. She might never blossom the way he knew she could, but he had to give her the chance to do it herself.
He reached over for the remote and turned the TV off and sat in the silence, processing this revelation. What Louise needed from him now was patience. Because he wasn’t giving up on her. He’d meant what he’d told her—he loved her. He’d never loved anyone the way he’d loved her. Forget first love. It was second love that was the killer.
It was winter still, and the river was grey and the trees were bare, but spring would come. And until it did he’d satisfy himself with a glimpse of the white house on the top of the hill every now and then.
But he wouldn’t forget. He’d be waiting for Louise to be ready.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
5th April
I hope I’m continuing to fulfil the promise you made, Laura. You told God that if He gave your Whitehaven, that you’d do your best to make sure you weren’t the only person who benefited from it. You also said Whitehaven should be filled with the noise of children, so I know you would have loved what we did at the picnic today.
Someone must have been smiling down on us, because it was warm enough to be June and the sun shone all day long. We had twenty teenagers, ranging from thirteen to eighteen, all of them carers for sick or elderly relatives. They don’t get much fun in their lives. I know that from experience, but that’s a long story …
I baked my best chocolate fudge cake and scones and banana and toffee muffins and we ate crusty rolls with cheese and ham and drank pink lemonade. I always loved the idea of pink lemonade, ever since I was little. Something about it just makes me smile.
Anyway, after lunch we had a game of rounders on the lawn. We would have played for longer, but one of the boys was such a good hitter that the ball ended up halfway down to the river. Two of the other kids wanted to go and look for it but, as you know, that hill’s rather steep and they were all a tad over-excited.
I couldn’t help thinking about who wasn’t there, though. I found myself staring across the river and just sighing. I wanted him to see all of it. I wanted to be able to tell him what I’d done. I miss him so much it hurts, Laura. I try to tell myself I don’t think of him at all, but that’s a lie. He’s there in the background of every day, a presence I just can’t shake. Is that how you felt about Dominic? If so, I can tell why you pined for him.
But I was horrible and hurtful and I made him go away. I know he said I should go and find him, but I can’t. And it’s not pride that stops me. Quite the reverse.
I don’t know why I’m telling you all this. I hadn’t meant to. But maybe I need to tell someone. I lied, Laura. I told him I didn’t need him, but I do. Oh, how I do. That’s not the problem, though. The real problem is that I don’t think he needs me. Not in the sense that he doesn’t want me, but in the sense that I’m no good for him. And I’m not sure I can change that.
I’m being very depressing, aren’t I? But I thought, of all people, you’d understand. You knew how to pine and yearn too. I only wish I could move past it, as you did, but it doesn’t seem to want to let me go.
Enough. I haven’t finished telling you about the day yet. And what happened next was probably the most important bit. After games on the lawn we just let the kids explore. I chatted with Sue, the lady from Relief who had helped me organise the day. She was so appreciative, and I kept having to tell her that, really, it was my pleasure. I don’t think she believed me. She asked if we could do it again in the summer, but I didn’t answer straight away because we’d ended up near the stable blocks.
I’m renovating them. The plans were for a guest house—a separate apartment entirely, with its own bathroom and kitchen and living space. It’s where I would have put my mother-in-law if I still had one. That woman never liked me.
Anyway, as we stood there, looking at the scaffolding and builders’ debris, an idea hit me. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before. I turned to Sue and said, “Yes, of course,” and then I told her I had something else I wanted to discuss with her. I’m hoping that while she’s in a good mood, she’ll say yes.
Ben drove up to Whitehaven’s gates the Tuesday after the Easter bank holiday. He’d have much rather come his usual way, via the river, but he sensed that wouldn’t be quite right. Things were back the way they were right at the start; he’d be a trespasser.
He felt a little like that now, but his team had been here for a week, doing some planting and finishing up some paving that couldn’t be done when the ground had been waterlogged in winter. Any communication he’d had from Louise on the matter had been through curt email. Eventually, he’d let his second-in-command liaise with her instead.
His heart thumped inside his chest like the hammer on one of those old-fashioned fire bells—relentless and impossible to ignore. Loud.
He hadn’t seen Louise since New Year’s Day, and every second of the last few months had dragged its heels like a truculent teenager. Had it been long enough? Her divorce must be final now. Would that have changed things?
He didn’t even know if he was going to see her. He’d decided to let fate decide. He’d go and survey the work, talk to his men—and the one woman on his team—and then he’d leave. If he came across Louise in the meantime then maybe it would be a sign.
But he didn’t come across Louise.
In fact, her absence seemed … deliberate. It was as if he could sense her presence at the darkened windows of the house but never saw her. He tried not to look too often, but sometimes he couldn’t help himself.
Right at the last moment, as he’d opened the door to his car and was climbing inside he glanced over his shoulder. He saw half a face in the study window. Just one eye. One gorgeous eye. And the swish of dark hair as she moved away.
He turned back towards his car and lowered himself carefully into the driving seat.
She wasn’t ready. Even though spring was in full riot. But he supposed humans had different seasons to plants.
He put his car into gear and drove out of Whitehaven’s gates without looking back. How long this winter of Louise’s would last was anyone’s guess. He knew some people who’d made it last a lifetime.
The bluebells had been an gone and summer was in full swing by the time the work on the old stable block was completed. The garden was looking fabulous too, although that always made her feel a little sad. Ben’s men had done a grand job. She hadn’t seen him again, really, since New Year’s Day. Only that one time she hadn’t been able to stop herself spying on him. Usually she was stronger. Usually she kept away from the village and shopped in the nearby towns. She never took the ferry any more, but drove the long way round if she wanted to get to the other side of the river.
How could she face him? After all those awful things she’d said to him? She’d had a chance and she’d blown it. More than that. She’d blasted it to smithereens with dynamite. She couldn’t put it all back together again now, even though she wanted to more than anything.
At least by fulfilling Laura’s promise she’d found something to do to take her mind off it all. There had been a lot of years when she’d been alone in this house. A lot of years when she might have forgotten her promise and kept Whitehaven to herself. Louise had the feeling that Laura might have been sad she hadn’t done more.
Since Easter she’d spent a lot of time unpacking her feelings about her childhood. Writing in her diary helped. For some reason, she always addressed the entries to Laura. It had started off for a reason, but now it had become habit. Even though she’d never known the old lady, she felt like a friend. And talking to a friend seemed easier than just filling blank page after blank page.
When Louise looked back at her life now she saw it differently. In her teenage years she’d just soldiered on, doing the best she could. But now, looking back on her pas
t with the eyes of a mother, she wondered why there hadn’t been more help. Social services had been all very keen to let them know when things weren’t up to scratch, but nobody had ever offered to step in and help. Not really. Not in any lasting or sensible way.
A break—just a week away from it now and then—might have made all the difference. She’d have gone back refreshed, ready to carry on. And she’d have been less susceptible to impossible fairy tales and knights. Not knights in shining armour, but in black leather—wolves’ clothing. She sighed. Maybe that was being unfair to Toby. He wasn’t the devil incarnate; he was just immature and weak. Spoiled.
Louise picked up her bunch of keys and headed out towards the stables. It was time for one last look around before her guests arrived.
In the small cobbled courtyard in front of the stables, there was now a fountain and bright flowers in pots, benches to sun oneself on. Inside was even better. She’d torn up the original plans for the interior and started again, driving her contractor nuts. Thankfully, a promise of a hefty bonus if it was ready in time for the school holidays had put a smile back on his face.
Sue had said yes to her idea. A joyful and unequivocal yes. Relief were apparently desperate for more respite holiday centres to send the kids they supported, places they could rest, unwind and meet others in the same boat. On site would be a cook and general den-mother, so the guests didn’t have to do chores like they did at home, and a child psychologist would be making regular visits. Activities were on hand for those who wanted them, from sailing to pony trekking to lounging on a beach with nothing to do but smile.
Louise opened the front door and stepped inside. The lounge area, with large U-shaped sectional sofa and all the toys and game consoles a teenager could ask for, filled one end of what had once been the stalls. The other end housed a kitchen and eating area. Beyond that was a smaller sitting room better for private chats and an office where Louise was taking care of the admin herself. After organising Toby’s life for more than ten years, she’d discovered she was rather good at it.
Upstairs were six bedrooms for the young people who were coming to visit, and a room for the live-in youth worker who’d be here in any and all of the school holidays—except Christmas. No matter who your family were, you always needed to be home at Christmas.
Louise took one last look around the apartments, checking everything was perfect. Three girls and a boy were due to arrive from London in the next hour. They’d decided to start at less than full capacity to iron out the kinks. Each group would stay for ten days. By the end of the summer, twenty teenagers would have had holidays here. She wished it could be more.
Looking round one last time, she made her way to the door, stopping to plump a cushion on the sofa. She’d chosen everything herself. She’d even done most of the painting herself. Apart from the woodwork. She’d left that to the experts.
As she walked out she felt a lump rise in her throat. Silly, she knew, but she was pleased the reality of the Laura Hastings Retreat lived up to what she’d seen in her imagination, what she’d wished for them. She just wanted these kids to have the best. They deserved it.
It was a long time before Louise unlocked the drawer in the boathouse desk again. She lost the key. But as she was hunting for a business card of a local café owner who’d said he’d be amenable to giving pizza-making lessons to the teenagers at the retreat, she found it in a basket in the kitchen. Lost items had a habit of turning up where you least expected them. Like the diary itself, she supposed.
That same afternoon she strolled down to the boathouse and opened the drawer. She pulled the diary out ran her fingertips over the smooth leather surface, then she picked it book up and flicked through it. It was only as she neared the back she realised she’d never read the final entry, the one after Dominic had left Laura standing in the garden. She’d been too upset to read any more at that point and after she’d done all her research to find out how the story ended, she’d forgotten all about it.
Carefully, she leafed through the pages one last time. There were a dozen or so creamy blank pages at the back of the book, so it felt as if this last entry, which was only a page long, wasn’t so much a running out of room, but having nothing further to say.
She took a deep breath to still her fluttering heart and began to read:
1st May, 1957
I should have seen it coming. But hope, like love, is blind. It sees what it wants to see, and I didn’t want to see Dominic walking away from me one last time.
He feels so guilty about Jean, you see. He feels her unhappiness was his fault. And I suppose part of it was, but not all of it, and she should have appreciated the man who sacrificed himself to keep her happy, not leave him in the most cruel way, having to explain everything to their child.
He was too good for her and, unfortunately, too good for me.
And a noble heart like that feels its mistakes keenly. He couldn’t get past the guilt. Couldn’t forgive himself, even though it was only his heart that wandered and never his body, and he did his best to put it right and leave it behind.
Months ago now I heard that Jean had problems with drink, that it had run in her family and that her mother’s sister has spent the last fifteen years in a sanatorium. Dominic aside, I think Jean had other, much more powerful demons to wrestle, but I don’t think he’ll ever let himself believe that. So, even if we’d taken our chance, his guilt would have poisoned it in the end.
Perhaps it is better to think of him as the perfect soul I could never have than the man who grew to hate me more and more each day. I’ve already made one of those and one is enough.
No, Dominic will never be mine, I understand that now. He won’t ever let himself be truly happy again, because he doesn’t believe he deserves to be, and he and I are the casualties of that lie. I don’t want to accept it, but I have no choice, and I refuse to send myself mad pining for what can’t be. It’s time to find a new dream, a new future. It’s time to close this CHAPTER OF MY LIFE AND MOVE ON.
It’s time to stop waiting.
Louise put the diary down and cried. For Laura. For Dominic. For poor loyal Alex. For Caroline, who’d never known her mother’s love. And for herself.
She’d blown it, hadn’t she? With Ben.
He’d offered her all she’d ever wanted and she’d been too scared to reach out and take the gift. Just as Dominic hadn’t been able to allow himself happiness with Laura.
Could she go to him now? He’d said she could. But that had been six months ago. Had his offer had an expiry date? And even if it hadn’t, what would she say, what could she bring to him in return? She was still the same damaged Louise who didn’t know a good thing when it happened to her. What if she hurt him again?
The problem was, Ben really didn’t deserve her, and she didn’t know how to change that.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
By the end of the week, the occupants of the new apartments had stopped staring every time they saw Louise and were much more ready to beg for cake or tease her. Jack was really enjoying having the company too. He and Kate, the den mother, had taken three of their ‘guests’—James, Letitia and Rebecca—across to Lower Hadwell to go crabbing off the jetty. Jack was eager to show his expertise with a bit of string and some bacon rind, apparently.
Only Molly had remained behind. She was a quiet, mousy girl, who had only hovered on the fringes of the group all week. Louise found her in the stable courtyard when she went to collect a cake tin she’d left in the kitchen.
‘Hey, Molly! How’s it going?’
Molly dipped her head and looked at Louise through her thick, dark blonde hair. ‘Okay.’
‘Have you been having a good time?’
Molly grimaced. ‘Yes.’ She fidgeted. ‘I can’t get a signal on my crappy mobile here. Can I use the office to phone home?’
Louise sat down next to her. The spring air was sweet and fresh and the sun was beautifully warm on her skin in the sheltered courtyard. ‘Of cours
e, you can. But I thought you already called this morning.’
Molly nodded and looked away.
‘They’re okay, you know, your family. They’ll do fine while you’re here. Relief will have sent some excellent staff to help with all your usual tasks while you’re away.’
Molly looked unconvinced. ‘They might not do things right. I need to check.’
Louise dearly wanted to put her arm round the girl, but she wasn’t sure it would be welcomed. Only fourteen, and already she carried the responsibility for her two disabled parents. The psychologist had warned her that some of the children might be like this, and she had vague memories of not being able to switch off herself.
‘How would you like something to do?’
At this, Molly brightened. Just as Louise had guessed, she would feel less uncomfortable … less guilty … if she had a job.
‘You lot are eating cakes faster than I can bake them. I was planning to do a chocolate one today and I could do with an extra pair of hands.’
For the first time that week, Molly smiled. ‘Sure. I can help.’
As they measured and mixed and washed up back in Whitehaven’s kitchen, Molly began to relax a little. Louise took the opportunity to dispense a little wisdom.
‘It’s okay to enjoy yourself, Molly.’
Molly frowned. ‘I know that.’
Hoping that this would be the right time, she walked over to her and put an arm gently round her shoulders. ‘You don’t have to feel guilty for being here. It’s what the scheme is all about.’
Molly sniffed. ‘I know that. It’s just that I feel bad leaving Mum and Dad alone while I get to stay in a beautiful place like this … and with you. It’s too nice.’
One-handed, Louise tore a piece of kitchen towel off the roll on the table and passed it to the girl. ‘Molly …’ Oh, blast, she was tearing up too. She grabbed a piece for herself as well. ‘You work hard all year round. Much harder than other kids your age. You deserve this, you really do. And your parents would want you to enjoy yourself while you’re here, not spend the whole time worrying about them or feeling guilty.’