The Truth About You, Me and Us

by Kate Field

  She was at the door, the handle in her trembling grasp, when she heard him speak.

  ‘Helen.’ She turned round. He had moved in front of the desk, and his knuckles shone white as he gripped the edge. ‘Saskia said you’re trying to make a go of it with Daniel again. Tell me it’s not true. If our kiss meant as much to you as it did to me, tell me you don’t love him, and that you wouldn’t have him back if he asked you.’

  ‘Joel, I…’ The words stuck in her throat. The spark of hope illuminating his eyes died. She couldn’t say the words he wanted, and he knew it. She couldn’t deny her feelings for Daniel, even to please Joel. It was the one point on which Saskia was wrong, and the one point she couldn’t even try to argue away. Would she go back to Daniel, if he asked? The truth was, she didn’t know. It seemed unlikely to happen. But if it ever did, shouldn’t she say yes? Wasn’t that the only way to atone for what she had done to him, and to Megan, by restoring what she had taken away? So she took a final look at Joel, at what might have been, and walked out.

  CHAPTER 29

  February, a bleak month at the best of times, seemed even longer and bleaker this year. A combination of rain and snow kept casual visitors away from Church Farm, and it was hard to resist Malcolm’s prophesies of doom. The atmosphere inside the Hay Barn was even icier than outside, as Helen tried her best to ignore Saskia, and especially to ignore the urge to go over with her sharpest needle, and sew up Saskia’s lips so they could no longer form the smug smile that shaped them every time she looked Helen’s way.

  It hadn’t taken long to discover how Saskia had found out about Daniel. A mortified Kirsty confessed to having told her the bare bones, after Saskia had tricked her into thinking she already knew. The rest she had made up, with an uncanny degree of accuracy. Kirsty was all for having it out with Saskia, but Helen stopped her. What was the point? She had done her worst, and it had worked. Joel avoided Helen now, at work and at home, and they hadn’t spoken since the day he had returned from the London fair. Then one night, as she was going to bed, she saw him arrive home in a taxi with Saskia. He was wrapped up against the cold weather in a thick coat, but wasn’t wearing her scarf. There was nothing more to be said.

  ‘He would never be interested in Saskia, love,’ Joan said, when she called at Helen’s house one Wednesday for coffee and a chat. ‘He’s too honest for her. That devious witch wouldn’t know the truth if it bit her on the bum.’

  ‘I think it’s more than truth biting her bum now.’

  ‘Oh love, you’ll put me off my cake,’ Joan laughed, nevertheless taking a large bite of the chocolate cake she had supposedly brought for Megan. ‘I certainly won’t be splashing out on a new hat if that wedding comes about.’

  Helen put down the rest of her cake, her appetite gone. Though it was stupid: Joel could marry whom he liked. It was just galling to see Saskia’s spiteful behaviour rewarded with the prize. Joan reached out and squeezed her hand.

  ‘Where there’s life, there’s hope, eh?’ she said, with a smile so sympathetic it almost made Helen cry.

  ‘I never had hopes,’ she replied. ‘We were friends, that’s all.’ And now not even that. It was harder than she could have imagined to ignore the Joel-shaped gap in her life where that friendship had been.

  Joan gave Helen’s hand a pat.

  ‘I had hopes,’ she admitted. ‘From the day he moved back from Bristol, months before you met. It seemed a perfect match.’ Joan sighed. ‘All this business about you being secretly rich and not who you seem… I could have told him it was nonsense. I’ve seen how hard you’ve worked. And if he’d been at Megan’s first birthday party…’

  ‘What was wrong with it?’

  ‘Nothing, love, I know it was the best you could do at the time. But six of us sitting round a table in the St Andrew’s café, and her grandparents not there – it’s not what you’d have done if you were rolling in cash, is it? I’ve half a mind to tell him…’

  Crazy Little Things had turned from being Helen’s sanctuary to a place of torture. She dreaded going to work and seeing Saskia, or seeing Joel with Saskia. There was no relief at home either, hearing Joel moving around next door, and trying to time their comings and goings so they didn’t run into him. Megan asked every day when she could see Mr Cat, and where Joel had gone, and there was no possible answer Helen could give.

  For the first time, Helen began to seriously consider Daniel’s suggested compromise. She could give up the shop, concentrate on crazy patchwork, and perhaps even move again, somewhere nearer Broadholme. She would have to accept his maintenance payments, and it would mean giving up a large chunk of her independence, but it no longer seemed the wrench it once had. What good was independence, if it made her so miserable? She could put aside her own feelings, as she always had, and do what was best for Megan. Perhaps, at this moment, spending more time with her was the best thing.

  ‘Would you like me to spend less time at work, and more days with you?’ she asked Megan, as they snuggled together on the sofa in front of the fire one Saturday afternoon. Megan nodded.

  ‘More days with Daddy as well?’ she asked.

  ‘More days with Daddy and Tasha eventually,’ Helen agreed, trying to sound cheerful about the prospect.

  ‘Not Tasha, Mummy.’ Megan giggled. ‘Tasha isn’t here.’

  ‘Isn’t where?’ Helen asked.

  ‘At Daddy’s house. She’s gone to her house.’

  Helen had no idea what that meant, and it didn’t feel right to interrogate Megan. When Daniel came round the next day, she waited until Megan was in the bathroom, and casually asked: ‘Are you and Tasha taking her out anywhere today?’

  Daniel hesitated.

  ‘Tasha has gone back to Australia,’ he said at last, glancing at Helen. ‘She only had permission to be here for six months as a general visitor.’

  ‘That’s tough on you both. What happens now? Does she have to apply for a visa to come back?’

  ‘She’s not coming back.’

  Helen took a moment to digest this, and then an awful thought occurred to her.

  ‘Are you moving back to Australia?’

  ‘No. We’ve broken up. She couldn’t adjust to life here.’ By which Helen guessed he meant she couldn’t adjust to Megan. Tasha hadn’t known she was crossing the world to become a stepmother. Now she was gone, and no threat to Helen’s relationship with Megan, Helen was prepared to be sympathetic.

  Daniel was watching her, one finger slowly tapping against his leg.

  ‘Would you have minded if I’d moved back?’

  ‘Yes, of course. Megan would be devastated.’

  He gave a wry smile as Megan bounded into the room and jumped straight into his arms. The more time she spent with Daniel, the closer they became. It was Helen’s recurring nightmare that as she grew older, Megan might choose to live with him. How would she ever endure that?

  Daniel picked up Megan’s belongings and took her hand.

  ‘Do you want to come out with us today?’ he asked, as Helen bent to kiss Megan goodbye. ‘I thought the park, then lunch at Mum’s.’

  ‘I can’t,’ Helen replied, startled by the question and glad she didn’t have to make a decision. ‘I have to work. I have an appointment later.’

  ‘You look tired. You need a break. Why don’t we go on holiday? We could rent a cottage for a few days.’

  ‘The three of us?’

  ‘Of course.’ Daniel smiled. ‘You’d like that, wouldn’t you Megan? A few days with Mummy and Daddy.’ She nodded happily, and he looked at Helen. ‘Why not?’

  Her mind went blank, and if there were good reasons why not, she couldn’t think of them. The prospect of a break – away from Church Farm, away from Pleasant View Cottages – was utter bliss, and exactly what she needed.

  ‘That would be lovely,’ she said, with a grateful smile. ‘Shall I…’

  ‘You don’t need to do anything. I’ll book somewhere. We’ll go next Sunday. I’ll let you know if that pr
oves a problem.’

  Smiling the Daniel smile she had dreamed about through the long years of his absence, he swooped to drop a lingering kiss on her cheek, and left.

  Helen had never been on a self-catering holiday with Daniel before: it had been five-star hotels all the way in their previous life. So it didn’t surprise her when they turned off a country lane in the Yorkshire Dales and pulled up outside what was clearly no ordinary holiday let. It was a picturesque stone cottage set amongst rolling fields, immaculately modernised, and with daily maid and chef services. It was like having a small boutique hotel to themselves.

  ‘Like it?’ Daniel asked, as he unloaded their cases from the car.

  ‘Love it,’ Helen replied, wondering if she ever needed to go home. She took Megan’s hand, and led her round to the back of the house, where they found a large garden with a play area. But Megan was distracted by something else.

  ‘Sheep!’ she cried, and ran to the side of the garden, which overlooked a farmer’s field. ‘Lambs!’ Megan squealed, her arm waving in excitement. Helen joined her, and watched as a mother lamb ambled away with two lambs at her side. Megan reached for Helen’s hand. ‘Joel would like this, wouldn’t he, Mummy? Can we send him a picture?’

  ‘Perhaps later,’ Helen replied, checking behind her to make sure that Daniel hadn’t heard. She must have underestimated Megan’s perception of Joel, and of his role in their lives. Megan had been used to seeing him or hearing of him most days – as had Helen. Perhaps the break would help both of them come to terms with his absence.

  The early spring weather was kind, and Daniel had prepared an itinerary of walks, farms, steam trains and garden trails that kept Megan amused in the day and ensured she was exhausted enough to tumble into sleep at night. Helen had worried that the evenings would be awkward, after Megan had gone to bed, and had brought a pile of sewing to keep her busy. But she hardly picked it up. Daniel had ordered three-course meals every night, which only needed warming up, and the nights drifted away as they lingered over the food and wine. For those few hours, it could almost have been old times; except for the separate bedrooms at the end of the night.

  ‘Megan’s having a great time, isn’t she?’ Daniel asked on the Wednesday evening, as they relaxed over the remains of a second bottle of wine.

  ‘Yes, she is,’ Helen agreed. It was only the second holiday Megan had ever experienced: everything was exciting. ‘Thanks for arranging this, Dan.’

  ‘It’s good for her to spend time with us both together.’ He leaned over and poured the rest of the wine into Helen’s glass. ‘We need to do it more often.’

  ‘I suppose so, but it’s difficult when I work on Sundays.’

  ‘Have you thought any more about giving up the shop?’ Daniel’s index finger tapped rhythmically against his glass.

  ‘Yes.’ His head shot up, his eyes searching hers. ‘I meant, I am thinking about it. I’m not sure it’s working out at Church Farm.’ She drank some wine, in the vain hope of drowning the anguish of acknowledging it out loud for the first time.

  ‘Would you stay in that cottage if you weren’t working there?’

  ‘Probably not.’ Her heart twinged again. She loved the cottage. It already felt more like home than her old house had ever done – than anywhere she’d lived had ever done. ‘There’d be no point. I’d have to look for somewhere else.’

  A long pause followed, during which jazz blared out of the iPod dock, Daniel stared into his glass, swirling the wine, and Helen sank deeper into misery.

  ‘I think I’ll go to bed,’ she said, putting down her glass and standing up. Daniel stood up too.

  ‘Move in with me, Nell,’ he said. ‘Let’s be together. Let’s do our best for Megan.’

  She hesitated in the doorway, unsure about what he was suggesting. Did he mean together as a family, or together as a couple? And as she stood there, wondering what he meant, and what she wanted him to mean, he strode the distance between them and kissed her.

  It was the familiar Daniel kiss, that she had never forgotten, but never expected to experience again. Already he was rubbing the back of her neck at her hairline, taking the shortcut that only he knew. And part of her swooned that he still remembered, her mind thrilled that what she had longed for was really happening, and she waited in anticipation for desire to stir…

  But it didn’t. He was doing the right things, but something was wrong. It was a good kiss. But it wasn’t affecting her the way it used to do.

  Perhaps her memories were stifling her reaction. How could it ever live up to what they had known before? But as Daniel’s lips and hands tried to lead her in the routine direction, Helen understood what the problem was. It didn’t live up to what she had felt with Joel.

  Shocked, Helen pulled away.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ Daniel asked, trying to draw her back. A faint frown clouded his brow.

  ‘I don’t know.’ She tried a smile. ‘Tired, I suppose. I need to think about this,’ she admitted.

  His eyes searched hers. A fact lay unspoken between them. She had never failed to respond before; never had to think about anything where he was concerned.

  ‘We’ll talk more tomorrow,’ he said at last, and opened the door to let her out.

  Daniel, Joel, Daniel, Joel… The thoughts tossed through Helen’s head all night, keeping sleep at bay. What had she done? And what was she going to do? Joel had offered her everything, she couldn’t doubt that, remembering his kiss; and she had rejected him, partly because of Daniel. And now Daniel had offered her something; and though she wasn’t entirely clear what that something was, it was more than she had ever truly thought would be hers again. Was she really going to reject him too? Could she, after loving him for so many years? Should she when, disregarding her own feelings, a reunion with him must surely be what Megan would want? Was she being selfish to even think about turning him down? Why was she still uncertain?

  As the sun rose, and the sound of bleating lambs filtered through the window, Helen let herself out into the garden and sat on the swing, slowly rocking backwards and forwards in the early morning sunshine, the rhythm of the swing echoing the movement of her thoughts.

  ‘Mummy!’ Megan tore across the garden in her pyjamas, dressing gown and shoes. Helen stilled the swing, and Megan climbed onto her lap.

  ‘Are you sad, Mummy?’ she asked, looking up at Helen with curious wide eyes. ‘You were swinging sadly.’

  ‘Was I?’ Helen kissed the top of her head. ‘I was thinking, that’s all.’

  ‘You need Joel,’ Megan said, kicking her legs to try to make the swing move. ‘He makes you laugh, like Daddy makes me laugh. I like it best when you’re laughing Mummy, not sad Mummy.’

  She rested her head against Helen, and started singing. Helen rocked them both on the swing. Was it really that simple? Did Megan only need Helen to be happy, whoever she found happiness with? Had Megan noticed what Helen had been too blind – or too unwilling – to see herself?

  Five years ago she had let Daniel go, but she had never let go of her feelings for him. Her heart was a patchwork of all kinds of love, and she had kept one patch for him; but it was no longer the largest one, or the most vibrant. The biggest patch would always be for Megan. But the next one was for Joel: Joel who made her laugh, who lavished her with support and friendship and who made her heart spin with desire, and sigh with tenderness. She couldn’t go back to Daniel, even out of guilt, because she wasn’t the girl who had loved him any more. The woman she was now belonged with Joel. But would he still want her, after all she had told him? And could she ever deserve to have him?

  Helen looked up and saw Daniel leaning in the doorway of the house, watching them.

  ‘I need to speak to Daddy, sweetheart, so swing yourself for a few minutes. I’ll be watching to see how high you can go, okay?’

  She crossed the lawn and joined Daniel. The sun was shining on him, picking out the grey at his temples. He was still one of the most handsome men she
had ever seen. He always would be. They’d had an incredible past. She couldn’t destroy the memory of that by following it with a mediocre future.

  ‘You’ve decided, haven’t you?’ he asked, studying her face. She nodded.

  ‘I can’t do it. We can never recapture what we had, and I think we’d both be miserable trying.’

  ‘Megan would be happy. Isn’t that enough?’ He took her hand. ‘Think about it, Nell. We could give her the proper family she’s missed out on so far.’

  ‘But there it is, even now. You can’t help thinking about what I did. It will never go away. And that’s not the only reason,’ she rushed on, when he opened his mouth to protest. He deserved absolute honesty. ‘I know you’d do anything for Megan. So would I. And I do love you, Dan.’ She saw a lift in his eyes. ‘But it’s not the love I used to feel. Even if it was, I couldn’t move in with you unless I was sure that you felt the same, and that you loved me as me, as who I am now, not just as Megan’s mother.’

  A flicker of consciousness whisked over his face, quickly gone, but she’d seen it and thought she’d hit the truth.

  ‘Isn’t it worth the chance, Nell?’ Her hand was still in his, and his thumb was rubbing hers. ‘Look at Megan. Look what we can do together. Let’s try for Archie.’

  The tears started when he said that, as she pictured the gorgeous little boy, the image of Daniel, who would never now exist – or not with her.

  ‘Archie would be the end for us, Dan, don’t you see? Witnessing his birth, seeing his first tooth, the first step, hearing his first word… They would be constant reminders that you missed all that with Megan. We would never survive that. Isn’t it better for Megan to have us both around, as friends, than to have a few years together before going through a bitter separation? There’s no way we can be together. For years I hoped you would come back and say all this, but if I’m honest, I knew when I kept Megan secret that there could be no second chances.’