The Truth About You, Me and Us

by Kate Field

  ‘Are you sure you have time? I know how busy you are, and there’s no hurry. It’s been terrible for so long, I’m sure a few more weeks won’t matter.’

  ‘There is a hurry. Don’t forget our deal. We have to sort it out before Christmas, so I can choose my three gifts from your shop.’

  Helen laughed and, on impulse, she stretched across and kissed his cheek. His skin was warm and smelt deliciously woody. ‘Thanks, Joel.’

  ‘Helen.’ Helen felt herself yanked back by the sudden sound of Daniel’s voice. He was standing on the other side of the table, frowning. All the other guests at their table had gone. ‘Where’s Megan?’

  ‘She’s at the crèche.’

  ‘Why did you send her there?’ His frown expanded to a scowl. Helen caught a movement behind her as Joel’s arm stretched out across the back of her chair. ‘If you wanted to get rid of her, you could have brought her to me.’

  ‘I would never get rid of her. You know that very well.’

  ‘Do I? It seems to me that I’m the last to know everything.’ His eyes swept over Joel’s arm.

  Helen stood up. She didn’t want to have this row in front of Joel. She didn’t want to row at all. She couldn’t think of anything she had done to make Daniel so annoyed with her today. Perhaps Tasha had been giving him a hard time since Megan’s little revelation earlier, but that was hardly Helen’s fault; she hadn’t wanted Megan to disclose that any more than he had. But if his mood was as dark as his face suggested, who knew what he might go on to say next, and what further revelations Joel might hear? She couldn’t risk it.

  ‘I’m going to check on Megan now,’ she said.

  ‘I’m coming.’

  ‘There’s no…’

  ‘Yes, there is.’

  Daniel walked towards the doors. Helen turned to Joel, who was standing behind her. He smiled, though there was confusion and concern in his eyes.

  ‘Everything okay?’ he asked. Helen nodded.

  ‘I won’t be long. I’ll see if she wants to stay or come back out.’

  She hurried after Daniel and caught up with him at the door of the room which had been turned into a crèche. All the children were sitting on the floor while an entertainer wrestled with a puppet of a hairy green frog. Megan was in fits of giggles. One of the helpers came over.

  ‘Have you come for Megan?’ she asked. ‘Do you want to take her?’

  ‘Yes,’ Daniel replied.

  ‘Not if she’s happy here,’ Helen said. ‘How has she been?’

  ‘She’s loving it, don’t worry. We’re doing party games and a disco after this.’

  ‘She needs to come out. My family want to see her.’

  Daniel went over to Megan and spoke to her. Helen couldn’t hear the reply, but the way Megan emphatically shook her head was clear enough.

  ‘She won’t leave.’ Daniel was frowning again. ‘You’d better speak to her.’

  Helen had a quick word with Megan and returned to Daniel.

  ‘She’s staying here. It’s what she wants.’

  ‘Some of my family haven’t met her yet.’

  ‘Daniel, she’s four. Of course she’d rather enjoy a party than be passed around people she doesn’t know.’

  ‘And is this what you’ve taught her? That life is all about parties? And I was beginning to believe that you might have grown up at last. Why is it that she doesn’t know my family? Remember that.’

  Helen walked out. Remember? Even if her own conscience had let her forget, he wouldn’t. He had called for a truce, but clearly his anger was so shallowly buried that even the slightest breeze would expose it. If he couldn’t let it be at his sister’s wedding, he never would. What had set him off today? Was it simply that she had brought Joel instead of Kirsty? Alex hadn’t minded the change, so why should he? Unless… No. He wasn’t jealous, was he? Surely that was impossible?

  She went into the ladies, and as she was washing her hands, she looked up and saw Tasha’s face reflected in the mirror behind her. The contrast between them was stark. Despite Helen’s skilfully applied make-up, despite the sadness radiating from Tasha, Helen could never compete with Tasha’s freshness and her natural glow of health. Tasha was gorgeous. Of course it was impossible.

  ‘Danny swears nothing happened in Birmingham,’ Tasha said, catching Helen’s eye in the mirror. ‘Is that true?’

  Helen picked up a paper towel and dried her hands. She turned and looked straight at Tasha.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Did you want it to? Do you want him back? I need to know, because if you do, I can’t win. You have Megan.’

  Was it really that simple, Helen wondered? Could she have Daniel back? Could Megan be the salve that brought them back together, and healed all the angry wounds between them? Wasn’t that exactly what she had longed for over the years apart and hoped for since his return? But instead of a burst of happiness she felt… uncertain. She hesitated, though she couldn’t put her finger on why she did. Perhaps it was because she had spent five years convincing herself that it could never happen. Perhaps it just felt wrong to celebrate the idea in front of his girlfriend, who had followed him across the world. Or perhaps… the memory of warm skin and a woody scent drifted through her mind.

  ‘I’m not trying to take him back,’ she told Tasha. It didn’t answer the question, but then she didn’t have an answer. She had no idea what she wanted; and the fact that she didn’t know – that every nerve fibre didn’t immediately cry out that of course she wanted Daniel back – confused her more than ever.

  Helen went back to the reception. Daniel was on one side of the room, without Megan, she was relieved to see, charming some guests as if a cross word had never passed his lips. Joel was on the other side, in an animated conversation with two women. He looked over at her, and with a quick word to the ladies, headed across the room to join her.

  ‘Is Megan having fun?’ Helen nodded. Joel smiled. ‘Good. Come with me and meet these ladies. One of them works for Lancashire Life. I’m trying to persuade her to carry a feature on Church Farm.’

  ‘I’m not sure how I can help.’

  ‘You can. I need you. Tell them your story, how you set up your business to support Megan and have survived despite the recession. Tell them about crazy patchwork, how fantastic it is, and how it can be a piece of art. Convince them that sewing isn’t only for old ladies, and that it can appeal to gorgeous young women, too. Show them… What?’ He stopped. ‘Why are you looking at me like that?’

  Helen had no idea what her face was doing. She was too dazzled by his words, and the passion with which he was speaking. Was that how Joel saw her? A successful businesswoman? A gorgeous young woman? An equal, who could offer him help? No one had ever described her the way he did. She wanted to be the Helen that Joel saw. And knowing he viewed her like that gave her confidence to be that Helen. So she let him take her hand and lead her over, and together they set out to prove that Church Farm deserved an article in Lancashire Life.

  The discussion went well, and ended with the journalist taking Joel’s number and promising to be in touch.

  ‘If this happens, it will be amazing,’ Joel said. Delight spilled onto every feature. ‘You were brilliant.’ He stepped towards Helen, rested his hand on her waist, and kissed her softly on the cheek. The woody scent of him embraced her senses again. ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Don’t say thanks until you know if she rings.’ Though Helen didn’t doubt it. She felt the same delight as Joel, and the intoxicating buzz of a job done well. ‘Or rather, see if she rings about the article, and not just to see you again.’

  Joel laughed. He was standing so close that the sound vibrated down Helen’s body. ‘I’m only interested in her journalistic skills.’ He looked over Helen’s shoulder. ‘The evening reception seems to have started. Thank God I can get this off now.’

  He raised his hands to his tie. Helen skipped a breath.

  ‘Don’t.’

  ‘Does it have to stay on? There ar
e men arriving with no ties.’

  ‘Let me. I have a special way.’

  Her mouth was operating independently from her brain. She hadn’t planned to say that but, now she had, she felt it had been inevitable since the moment she had first seen Joel on her doorstep.

  ‘Now this I have to experience.’ Joel smiled, and his hands fell back down to his side. Without breaking eye contact, and with her head so close to his that their breath mingled, Helen ran her fingers round his collar and drew off his tie, inch by teasing inch. She let the column of silk slither between her hands, and reached up to undo the top button.

  ‘Promise me you’re not going to offer to do that to anyone else here,’ Joel said. His voice sounded odd, and his eyes glittered, the pupils wide and dark. ‘There might be riots.’

  Helen laughed, then realised that her fingers were automatically unfastening the second button too. She stopped, and took her hands away. Joel’s eyes were still on hers.

  ‘Sorry to interrupt,’ Daniel said, sounding anything but. ‘I need to speak to you, Helen.’

  ‘Now?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Is something wrong with Megan?’

  He was already striding away, giving Helen no choice but to follow, after a quick apology to Joel. Daniel led her out of the reception room, but to her confusion, turned the opposite way from the crèche, then whirled round to confront her.

  ‘What about Megan?’ she asked, when all he did was glare at her, his breath heavy.

  ‘So you do remember her? She’s fine. I’ve checked.’

  ‘What’s all this about? What’s the problem?’

  ‘It’s not Megan. It’s him.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Joel.’ Daniel spat the name. ‘How far does his plus-one role stretch? Does he stay at your house? Does he stay when Megan is there?’

  If he didn’t look so furious, Helen would have laughed at how ridiculous this was.

  ‘Of course not,’ she said, trying to sound calm. ‘He’s never stayed. It isn’t like that.’

  ‘So you say. That’s not what I saw. It’s quite obvious from the way he looks at you what he wants.’

  ‘Is it a crime to find me attractive? Don’t be so hypocritical. Are you going to send Tasha off to a hotel if Megan ever stays at your house?’

  ‘When she stays. It isn’t the same. What sort of example are you setting Megan by having random men to stay over?’

  Helen’s hands flew up in frustration.

  ‘For God’s sake, Dan, will you listen to yourself? I’ve told you Joel has never stayed over. The only man who has ever stayed in the house with us is Adam, and I hardly think you can object to her uncle visiting. How dare you suggest I’m corrupting her? I’ve given up everything to be the best mother I can for Megan. What more do you want from me? Christ, I’ve not had sex for five years, not since the morning you left…’

  Helen caught a sound and saw Joel emerge into the corridor. She could tell from his expression that he’d heard at least the last part of the conversation. Daniel didn’t notice, and Joel turned and went back to the reception.

  ‘You’re planning on changing that tonight, aren’t you?’ Daniel ploughed on. ‘The thing with the tie…’

  ‘No! But what business is it of yours if I did?’

  ‘It’s my business if it affects Megan. She’s still getting used to me. I don’t want you to confuse her by introducing another man.’

  And there was the truth of it. How could Helen have been so stupid, even for a second, to think that Daniel might have been jealous because of her? It was Megan’s affection he was concerned about, her feelings he was jealous over, not Helen’s. How could she blame him, when she had felt exactly the same about Tasha? She shook her head, sadness taking over from the anger.

  ‘Don’t you understand, Dan? Don’t you see why there hasn’t been anyone else for five years? Megan only has one father. I wouldn’t let anyone take your place while you were away. Now you’re back, no one can. Whatever happens in my life in the future, that won’t change. She’s yours. She’ll always be yours.’

  Daniel looked as if he was about to say something more, but Helen didn’t wait to listen. She went to the crèche, promised Megan a final fifteen minutes, and returned to the reception to tell Joel they were almost ready to go. He approached as soon as she stepped foot in the room.

  ‘Friendly hug?’ he asked. Surprised, she nodded, and he pulled her into him, wrapping strong arms round her as he held her to his chest. It was innocent and brief, and reached way down inside her. It was the closest contact she’d had with another person, other than Megan, for so long. Her family weren’t huggers. Daniel had never embraced her in so chaste a way. But everything she tried to offer Megan in a hug – affection, comfort, support – she felt flowing from Joel.

  ‘So,’ he said, letting her go before she was ready for the hug to end. ‘The elephant in the room. Five years? You know I believed you that nothing happened last weekend. You didn’t need to go to such lengths to convince me.’

  ‘It doesn’t make me desperate.’

  He laughed. ‘I never thought you were. But five years? A slight exaggeration, surely? I mean, Megan’s only four.’

  Helen shrugged, and slid her eyes away from his.

  ‘Perhaps,’ she said. ‘I told you we’ve not been together for a long time. Daniel’s been away. He only came back recently. It’s all… strange.’

  Joel touched her chin and gently turned her face back to meet his.

  ‘Have I said before how amazing you are?’ he asked. ‘You’ve been on your own for so long, and still you’re forgiving enough to get involved in all this, and let him be close to Megan. I’ve never met anyone so incredible.’

  If Helen was ever going to tell him the truth, here was the moment. The door was open, the way ahead well lit and clearly signposted. But did she have to take it? A lovely, kind, handsome man was smiling at her, and telling her she was amazing; and it was such a long time since she had felt like this. She couldn’t know how he would react if she told him everything; perhaps he would understand. But there was always the risk that he might not. She didn’t want to take the risk. She wanted to hold on to this feeling, to revel in it, for a few moments more. So she said nothing, and the door slammed shut.

  CHAPTER 23

  First thing on Monday morning, Helen began a fresh tour of the estate agents and lettings companies, investigating whether there might be a better supply of rental properties around Church Farm or Broadholme. She was an amazing, incredible businesswoman, she reminded herself, still glowing from Joel’s words. She could do this.

  By the time she had dragged a complaining Megan into the sixth or seventh office, where she was offered a flat above a betting shop or a rundown mid-terraced house with a backyard and not even a blade of grass to fasten a swing to, her confidence was ready to fizzle out. Everything was too big, too small, too expensive, or simply too horrible to consider. And then she saw it, on the corner of the desk, almost hidden by the agent’s elbow: a picture of the perfect stone cottage.

  ‘What’s this?’ she asked, leaning over the desk and whisking away the sheet of paper. ‘Pleasant View Cottage, Crofters Fold’, she read. The same village as Church Farm! Surely that had to be some sort of fate? She turned the paper over, but there were no other details. ‘Is this available for rent?’

  ‘It will be,’ the agent said, trying to regain the paper without any success. ‘It’s a new instruction. We haven’t taken interior pictures yet, or discussed the rental price with the owner.’

  ‘Can I see it?’ Helen studied the photograph. It didn’t look a large house, but based on what she had been shown so far today, it would probably end up outside her price range. Still, it looked friendly and welcoming, and it appealed to her in a way that no other property had since her search began. She couldn’t not see it.

  ‘Leave me your details and I’ll get in touch with the owner, to see if they’re accepting viewings yet.
’

  ‘Can you ring them now? I’m off work today. It would be a perfect time to view. And think how impressed the owner would be if you found them a tenant before the place was even on the market!’

  Laughing, the agent tried calling the owner, but there was no answer. Helen extracted a promise that he would keep trying and reluctantly left, sneaking the photograph of the cottage out with her. She took Megan to a nearby café for lunch, intending to pop back in to see the agent on her return to the car, but such tactics proved unnecessary. He phoned her while she was still in the café, confirming that she could view the cottage that afternoon. Helen left at once.

  If Helen had been infatuated with the picture, it was love at first sight as soon as she saw the cottage. She parked her car on the lane outside, and gazed out of the window in silent admiration. The left hand of a pair of mirror-image semi-detached cottages, bark-coloured stone walls rose with reassuring solidity to meet a slate roof. Helen couldn’t find a fault. The low stone wall at the front of the cottage, the well-stocked front garden promising discoveries of colour as the seasons passed, the porch covering the front door… It was perfect. If only the garden had room for a swing…

  She dragged Megan up the front path, but before she could ring the bell the door opened and Joel stepped out, smiling.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ she asked.

  ‘I was told there was a demanding woman who insisted on viewing the cottage today, and wouldn’t take no for an answer.’ He grinned, amused not annoyed, but Helen cringed all the same. Perhaps she had been rather insistent.

  ‘So this is your house?’ She was sure the agent had mentioned a retired couple – when she had let him speak.

  ‘No, it belongs to Church Farm, and so my parents. These used to be agricultural workers’ cottages. My parents are out for the day so couldn’t do the viewing.’

  ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to drag you away from work. You should have said no.’

  ‘Jimmy was concerned you might stage a sit-in at his office if I did. And he kindly pointed out that I’m never likely to have such a gorgeous woman so desperate to see me again. He’s an old friend,’ Joel explained, laughing.