by Kate Field
‘And it just turned out to be me,’ Helen said, scuffing at some moss on the York stone path, not looking up.
‘Yes. When he mentioned your name, I knew he wasn’t exaggerating for the first time in his life. And now you’ve distracted me from my sales pitch. My parents would not be happy.’ He leaned forward and kissed her cheek, warm lips against her cold skin. ‘Welcome to Pleasant View Cottage. Find it okay?’
‘Yes,’ Helen replied, determined to concentrate on the assets of the house, not the man on the doorstep. ‘I hadn’t even noticed this lane before. Where does it go?’
‘There are two other houses further on, and a working farm at the end. It’s a quiet lane, and you’ll see more tractors going up and down than cars. Although,’ he added, bending down to speak to Megan, ‘in spring and summer you can watch the cows parading along here to move between the field and the farm.’
Megan looked at Helen with excited eyes. The mention of passing cows had clearly won her support for this house.
‘Why the name?’ Helen asked. A high hedge ran along the side of the lane opposite the cottages. ‘Was that hedge not here when they chose it?’
Joel laughed. ‘When you’ve been round the back, you won’t need to ask. What do you want to see first? House or garden?’
‘House,’ she said firmly, fearing that if she was seduced by the garden at the outset she might be tempted to overlook all manner of horrors inside.
‘Wander round by yourselves,’ Joel said, standing back.
Helen needn’t have worried. The inside was as perfect as the outside. There was a hall from which stairs led up to two double bedrooms and a new white bathroom. Downstairs there was a living room with a wood-burning stove, and a large dining-kitchen stretched across the back of the house. Off the kitchen another door opened to… Helen gasped.
‘This used to be the bathroom,’ Joel said, coming up behind her. ‘We had it moved upstairs into the smallest bedroom. So this can be a study, or utility, or…’
‘A sewing room,’ Helen finished. ‘This would be a fantastic sewing room.’ She stepped forward, picturing instantly how the room would be set up, with storage shelves on one wall, and a table for her sewing machine under the window. Although perhaps that wouldn’t be the most productive idea, she thought, as she gazed out of the window. How would she ever keep her eyes off that view?
‘Can we go out to the garden?’ She couldn’t wait any longer, and Joel opened the French doors in the kitchen. Megan didn’t hesitate. She took one look at the expanse of flat lawn rolling a good thirty metres ahead of them, squealed, and set off running down the grass to the fence at the far end, her plaits flying out from beneath her hat. Helen couldn’t blame her. She felt like doing the same herself – and then she thought, why not? So she ran after Megan – without the squeal – and caught her in a hug as they reached the fence. Megan giggled, her cheeks flushed pink and her eyes shimmering with happiness. Helen kissed her, inhaling her simple joy, and vowed on the spot that they had to rent this house, whatever it cost. She would take in alterations, sew every hour of the night until her fingers bled, do anything to make this happiness last.
‘Don’t scare the animals, will you?’ Joel joined them, laughing. Both Helen and Megan stared over the fence. The land on the other side sloped down in a patchwork of fields, meadows and woods and into a valley, before the hills rose again in the distance. In the valley, a reservoir sparkled silver in the winter sun.
‘Sheep!’ Megan said, climbing up onto the fence for a better look. Helen noticed for the first time a group of sheep huddling together on the far side of the field. She felt Joel move behind her.
‘What do you think of the view?’ he asked. ‘Pleasant enough?’
‘Yes.’ Pleasant hardly covered it. ‘It’s absolutely beautiful.’
She turned and smiled at him. The wind was ruffling the curls round his face. The view wasn’t bad in this direction either.
‘Wow,’ she said, as her gaze fell on the back of the cottages. ‘Look at the house next door!’
The cottages had been identical from the front. Helen now saw that the one attached to hers – she was thinking of it that way already – had a modern aluminium and glass extension wrapped across the back and round to the side where Helen’s sewing room was in the other cottage. It opened up the whole of the downstairs to make the most of the view.
‘Do your parents own that one as well?’ she asked.
‘Yes. It’s already rented out.’
‘Oh God.’ Helen laughed. ‘I knew there had to be a catch. Don’t tell me it’s the family from hell next door. A dozen noisy dogs, all-night parties, teenage boys ogling out of the window…’
‘No dogs, no all night parties, and no teenage boys. I live there.’ His smile grew cheeky. ‘I can’t promise not to ogle though.’
‘You live there?’ Helen pointed at the neighbouring cottage, as if there could be any doubt where he meant. ‘Next door?’
‘Yes. Is that a problem?’
Was it? Helen couldn’t decide. Would this bind their lives too closely together? Would it be awkward to live side by side, aware of every coming and going, seeing him bring girlfriends home… That idea gave her an uncomfortable twinge. Daniel wouldn’t like it, she was certain. She watched as Megan jumped down from the fence, climbed straight back up, and launched herself off again. She was the only one who mattered. Helen caught her.
‘What do you think, Megan?’ she asked, hoisting her up so their faces were level. ‘Would you like to live here?’
Megan nodded.
‘I can have a swing,’ she said. Helen smiled and kissed her. She could have a swing if Helen could find the money. And thinking of money… Could this really be within her budget? Not everyone would like the rural setting, but the house was so much better than anything she had seen. She had been entirely seduced, and if the rent was too high she would be devastated.
‘Do you know how much your parents will charge for rent?’ she asked Joel, nibbling the inside of her cheek and bracing herself for the answer.
‘I spoke to them earlier. They’ll take the same as I pay. £400 a month.’
‘Seriously?’ It was less than she was paying now, and well below the market rate.
‘Yes. You get a discount as a gallery tenant, and Jimmy has waived any agency fees as he didn’t actually introduce you to the property before you snatched it off his desk.’
‘That’s fantastic. Will you let your parents know that I’ll definitely take it?’
‘With pleasure.’
His warm smile washed over her, and Helen felt tears prick her eyes and tickle the back of her nose. She buried her face in a cuddle with Megan. She hadn’t appreciated until now quite how stressed she had been about finding somewhere to live. The relief was dizzying. And beyond the relief lurked an unexpected sense of pride. She had faced a crisis, and found a solution, without help from her father, her brother or Daniel. She was an amazing, incredible businesswoman. She whispered Joel’s words to herself. Perhaps it was time to start believing it.
The doors had closed on St Andrew’s for the final time as a shopping destination. The shops stood empty, waiting to be ripped out. The entire contents of Crazy Little Things had been packed away in boxes and was now sitting in a van outside Helen’s house, waiting to go to Church Farm the next day, where it would be stored until the Hay Barn opened in the New Year. Helen was desperately trying to focus on the practical arrangements, to keep the emotion at bay.
Malcolm was the first to threaten her mascara, when they all met up at a town centre restaurant to celebrate Christmas and the end of St Andrew’s.
‘Fourteen years I had that shop,’ he said, and for once Helen forgave him his air of gloom. ‘It got me through some bad times.’
Helen reached out and squeezed his hand. His son had suffered brain damage at birth as a result of a botched delivery, and had died in his late teens. Malcolm had given up his job and become a painter after
that.
‘You’ll do brilliantly at Church Farm,’ she assured him. ‘A fresh start will revitalise all of us.’
‘I thought we were snookered when we had that letter about St Andrew’s closing. Thought I’d have to retire. I’m not sure what our Brenda would have made of that.’ He cast a fond look at his wife Brenda, who was talking to Joan. Helen had seen them together often enough to know that Brenda would have been thrilled to see more of Malcolm. ‘That young man has given us all a lifeline. I’d have been proud if our Jamie had grown up like him.’
‘What young man?’
Malcolm was too choked to speak, and nodded his head in the direction of the entrance to the restaurant. Joel had walked in, with Saskia at his side. They were laughing. Joel looked delicious. Saskia looked delighted. Delighted, and very smug. She immediately sought out Helen and smiled. Helen didn’t know what to make of that smile. Was it a friendly greeting, or was there a hint of triumph? Helen shook the thought from her head. Surely Saskia could only feel triumphant if there was some competition between them? And there wasn’t. They weren’t competing over anything – or anyone. Or Helen hadn’t thought they were.
‘I didn’t know Santa’s little helper was coming tonight,’ Kirsty whispered in Helen’s ear.
‘Neither did I.’ But why should she have known? He didn’t have to tell her if he was having a date with Saskia. And Saskia was certainly dressed for a date. Her bodycon dress barely covered her breasts and her bottom. Helen glanced down at herself. She was wearing the dress she had made for Craig’s party several months ago. Though she knew that Saskia was at least three years older than her, and though she had felt confident in her appearance when she left the house, she now wondered whether in fact she looked dull and – the dreaded word – mumsy.
‘You look totally hot,’ Kirsty whispered, reading Helen’s mind. ‘So does he. I can see why you wouldn’t mind him filling your stocking.’
‘Kirsty!’ Helen laughed. ‘I’ve never said that.’
‘Not in words, maybe, but your face is saying it loud and clear.’
Was it? Helen tried to channel a neutral expression, but she caught Joel’s eye for the first time, and his smile openly grew. It was impossible not to smile back at those dimples.
‘Hmm,’ Kirsty murmured. ‘That settles it. He has a special smile for you. He doesn’t dimple me. I wonder what other parts of his body react in a special way to you.’
‘Stop it!’ Helen reached for her glass, laughing, and tried to ignore the Carry On winks Kirsty was sending her way.
‘You two sound full of the Christmas spirit already,’ Joel said. He crouched down between Helen and Kirsty, his hand resting on the back of Helen’s chair. ‘How many bottles behind am I?’
‘It’s a Christmas party. It’s against the rules to count,’ Helen replied. ‘And surely you know that ladies are only ever jolly, not drunk.’
‘You’re drinking tonight?’ He took the glass from Helen’s hand and had a sip, grimacing as he tasted the vodka. Helen felt a pang. Daniel loved vodka almost as much as she did. They had bonded over a bottle of Konik’s Tail on the night they had met. ‘Not driving, then?’
‘No. Another unbreakable rule. Taxis are essential expenditure for a Christmas party.’
‘I wish I’d known. I’d have worn a tie again.’
The combination of the look in his eyes, the smile and the vodka was deadly. Helen looked at Kirsty for rescue.
‘Do you want to sit down?’ Kirsty asked Joel. ‘I can move.’
That wasn’t the response Helen had been hoping for. Joel looked tempted for a second.
‘Better not,’ he said, his grin turning rueful. ‘Bad form not to sit with a date, isn’t it? And she already looks ready to box my ears for turning up late.’
So it was a date! Helen looked at Saskia. She was stealing glances their way, but Helen would have put money on her wanting to spank Joel’s bottom rather than box his ears. And perhaps she’d be doing just that later. Helen took a large gulp of vodka, feeling abruptly sober.
‘I’ll catch you later,’ Joel said, and briefly Helen thought his fingers brushed her shoulder. He went round the table, in the opposite direction to Saskia, and greeted Joan with a kiss and a hug. Joan shook her head at him, and tapped her watch. Joel laughed and took the empty seat next to his aunt.
‘Interesting,’ Kirsty whispered, as the menus were finally handed round.
Helen ignored her, and picked up the conversation with Malcolm again, but Kirsty was not easily deterred when she was on a mission, and tonight she seemed determined to make Helen her mission.
‘Shall we move around between courses?’ she suggested, as the plates were cleared from the starters. She stood up. ‘Every other person, grab your cutlery and glass, and move two spaces along.’ The amazing thing about Kirsty was that she was such a force of nature, no one thought to disobey. The relevant people started to move. Kirsty and Malcolm collided behind Helen. ‘Anti-clockwise!’ Kirsty bellowed. Everyone obligingly moved the opposite way. Helen looked round, making a quick calculation. She was about to be joined by Saskia for the main course, Ron’s daughter for dessert, and Joel for coffee.
‘Good plan, isn’t it?’ Kirsty said in Helen’s ear, as she settled herself down on Helen’s right. ‘You can thank me later.’
Only if she survived the next course, Helen reflected, as she watched Saskia sit down reluctantly beside her. Judging by her expression, Saskia had worked out all the next moves too, and she hadn’t planned on lingering over coffee with Ron.
‘That’s a great dress,’ Helen said, determined to make an effort.
‘Thanks.’ Saskia smiled. ‘I’m lucky I have the figure for it. Everything is still in the right place.’ Her gaze flicked briefly over Helen. ‘Where is Megan tonight?’
‘At home. My brother has come up to help move everything to the Hay Barn, so he’s babysitting. You probably saw him at St Andrew’s this afternoon.’
‘Yes, I did. I haven’t seen any of your family before. Don’t you get on?’
‘They live a long way away,’ Helen replied, forking in a large mouthful of risotto to excuse not saying more.
‘You’re from Surrey, aren’t you?’ Helen nodded. ‘What brought you up here? A man? Megan’s father? You never mention him.’
‘There’s nothing to say. We’re not together anymore.’
‘What happened?’
Helen stared at Saskia. Why the sudden interest in her history?
‘We drifted apart.’ With the help of an aeroplane, but she was hardly going to admit that to Saskia.
‘Did you?’ Something about Saskia’s tone made Helen look at her sharply, but her smile was sympathetic. ‘And do you still see much of him? I suppose you have to, for Megan?’
‘Yes.’ Helen grabbed her glass of wine, and tried to turn to Kirsty, but Saskia reached out and touched her arm.
‘Is there no chance of the two of you getting back together? It would be the ideal solution for Megan, surely?’
‘No. He has a new partner now.’
Helen turned in her seat, and talked across the table to Joan. After about five minutes, as Helen pushed her empty plate away, she felt Saskia lean in towards her.
‘Are you dating at the moment?’ she asked. ‘We never have chance to discuss it at St Andrew’s.’
This wasn’t true: they had hours without customers, but Helen had never felt inclined to discuss her private life with Saskia. She didn’t now. She might be making the most of her night out, but she wasn’t that drunk.
‘No.’
‘It’s tough, isn’t it, trying to find a man who wants commitment.’
Helen made a discouraging noise. It had no effect.
‘Most of the ones I meet don’t even seem interested in having their own children, never mind taking on someone else’s cast offs. I’d never thought about how much harder it must be for you, until the other day.’
‘What do you mean?’ Helen ask
ed, unable to stop herself.
Saskia smiled.
‘I’m probably not meant to repeat it…’ She glanced round, and her eyes lingered on Joel. She leaned closer to Helen, and lowered her voice. ‘Someone told me that he’d backed away from a potential relationship, because he couldn’t stand the way the child was always tagging along. Awful, isn’t it? But you know what men are like. They think there’s no freedom and spontaneity left when children are around. But why should it matter if you have to rush off straight after pudding tonight? Don’t let it get you down. I’m sure there are some men out there who wouldn’t mind at all. You’ll find one, one day.’
Intentionally or not, Saskia’s words plunged straight into the heel of Helen’s newly awoken confidence and deflated it. She looked across at Joel, hoping for a smile to revive her, but he was busy talking to Malcolm’s wife. He had hardly glanced her way all night, though she had been conscious of his every move. Through the thickening haze of alcohol clogging her head, she replayed Saskia’s words, and recalled the significant glance Saskia had given Joel before making her revelation. Had she been talking about Joel? Was Joel the person who had backed away from a relationship because of a child? And if so, had Helen been the other half of the relationship, and Megan the cast-off child? Stung by the apparent betrayal, she dashed to the bathroom, wishing she could stay there through the next two courses.
By the time she emerged, the next shuffle had taken place, and although she was still next to Saskia, Malcolm was regaling her with a gloomy tale across the table, leaving Helen to talk to Ron’s daughter. And then, almost before the final spoon was down, Kirsty was on her feet, urging on the final move. Joel took the seat next to Helen, and angled it towards her. His smile was so open and innocent that Helen felt a surge of relief and wondered how she could have doubted him.
‘Are you staying for coffee?’ he asked, as the waiter approached to take their orders. ‘Don’t tell me that now I’m finally here, you have to rush off?’