by Suzanne Snow
‘I can see that you do.’ He paused. ‘So do I.’
‘What about it?’
Her pulse was starting to rush again and the dryness in her mouth made her words feel thickened. They were standing close together, almost as close as they had been that evening on the threshold of her room. Olivia put the cup down carefully, dredging up thoughts of loving someone and being left behind, the determination never to allow herself to place her happiness, her peace of mind in someone else’s power ever again. She had no reason to trust Tom with anything beyond a few weeks of sharing a house and needed to ensure it became nothing more. He had told her as much himself, that night. That he wasn’t what he’d allowed her to believe.
‘That I regret leaving you. Wish I’d stayed, that things were different. For me.’
‘We can’t go back, Tom.’ Her words were barely more than a whisper. ‘It would be a mistake.’ She wanted to believe it, ignoring the way her body was trying to change her mind for her. She could feel the tremble in her fingers, the way she wanted to touch him, place her hand on his face, smooth away the sadness.
‘I know that. Nothing’s altered since then, with my situation.’ There was an edge of frustration in Tom’s voice, and she recognised the tension in his shoulders. ‘I’m a poor prospect for anyone, let alone you, Olivia.’
‘Me?’ It was a moment before she understood his meaning. ‘What, you think I wouldn’t want you because of your being…’
‘Homeless? Out of work? Finished maybe?’ There was weariness there now too. ‘You can say it, I know how it sounds.’
‘You actually think that makes a difference to how I see you?’
‘Are you telling me it doesn’t?’
‘Of course I am.’ Was she, really? Would any of that matter if they acted on the attraction she knew they both still felt? She had a highly successful career, a luxurious apartment, a daughter, her dad, a busy life, barely any time. And he had, what, precisely? No home, no proper job, perhaps no family to fall back on. Would she seriously consider dating a man like that had his profile popped into her dating app? She knew the answer and felt the shame swiftly following.
‘So we’re, what? What does sharing this place make us now? Housemates? Friends?’ Tom’s gaze left hers to dart across the garden to the shop at the end again. ‘More? Less? How do we categorise our relationship, especially now you know why I’m here?’
‘I’d like us to be friends. I think we could do that.’ Olivia was still battling the shame, wanting to offer something that was kind.
‘I suppose that’s better than housemates.’ He breathed out a sigh, staring at the snow still falling.
‘You trust my dad, don’t you? You’re letting him help you.’
‘Yes.’ Tom’s smile was brief. ‘He’s been a true friend to me and I value his support more than I can say.’
‘If I can help too…’ Olivia wanted to show Tom that he mattered, not the circumstances he found himself in. A chance to make herself believe it too, to be better than someone who measured the man against his position. If her dad liked and trusted him, then she could trust him too and be his friend. ‘I mean, I can’t cook, not like you, but if there’s something else. Please Tom, I’d like to help.’ She saw a glimmer of hope amidst the sorrow lingering in his gaze.
‘There’s nothing you can do, Olivia. At least not in the way you think. But thank you for saying it. I’ll find my own way, I always have.’
Suddenly her arms were around him before she barely even realised she’d moved. She wasn’t sure Tom would want her holding him in quite the way she was but then his arms were around her too, and they were hugging tightly, an acknowledgement of how they felt, what they’d shared. What they’d missed. She thought that this wasn’t perhaps what her dad had had in mind when he’d invited her and Tom to stay at the same time and then decided maybe it really was.
Her next words escaped with a quick laugh before she could prevent it. ‘I’ve just realised I’ve never hugged someone famous before. I usually manage to restrict myself to a handshake with my clients.’
She didn’t seem to be managing to restrict herself around Tom very much at all and loved how he felt against her: strong, firm and smelling wonderful. His chin was resting lightly on her head and she felt the serious moment pass into an easy light-heartedness following her teasing. ‘Can I have a selfie?’
‘That might depend on what you’re planning to do with it.’ He drew back to look at her, and she liked the flare of amusement in his expression.
‘Turn it into a screensaver maybe? Instagram? Twitter? Which would you prefer?’
‘Oh Instagram, definitely. I’m not sure how I’d feel about you staring at me on a screen all day.’
‘I’d never get anything done,’ Olivia replied at once without meaning to, a sudden blush threatening to render her even more embarrassed. ‘I mean, it’s just, you’re him, aren’t you? Of course I know you’re not, I was just…’ She was perfectly aware that she was making her hasty confession worse.
They still seemed to have their arms around one another and they both let go at the same time, as though surprised that they were still embracing. Tom set about making toast and Olivia decided to have another coffee. She poured one for him as well and he thanked her as she settled at the table with her phone, putting her glasses on. There was still a slight awkwardness in their presence together and she wondered if he had revealed a layer of himself he had never intended to.
She needed to get on and make new plans. She definitely wasn’t going to be seeing her dad today in this weather – she doubted she’d even be able to get the car out of the garage, never mind the village. And there was the house in Cumbria to see tomorrow; that would have to be rearranged after all.
She emailed her dad to say she was really sorry and included a Zoom link, suggesting they chat at four. He would have had his afternoon snooze by then and it would give them around an hour before he liked to eat. His happy reply almost brought her to tears and she wished she’d put her client off yesterday and gone to see him instead.
She also emailed her vendor in Cumbria, smoothing them over and promising to be there just as soon as she could. Olivia assured them she had a buyer in mind and that they should still be able to sell quickly. Nothing from her client in the States so far today and that was a relief. But their day had yet to start and they might still track her down, even on a Sunday. The snow was definitely a nuisance she could do without, and she’d almost forgotten about Tom opposite her until he spoke.
‘Problems?’
‘Sorry?’ She looked up, startled from thoughts of work. Julian had messaged too, asking if she could view a property as soon as possible for a high-profile footballer who was switching clubs. This wasn’t unusual; her team covered the north and Julian’s the south, which suited them both. She’d have to fit it in this week as for clients such as this they always viewed the properties personally.
‘You look concerned.’
‘Oh, it’s just work.’ She ignored Tom’s eyes sharp on hers.
‘It’s Sunday. Don’t you ever take a whole day off?’
‘Of course I do.’ Did she? Olivia tried to think back to the last day when she hadn’t sent a single email or replied to an urgent message. She couldn’t find one. ‘This bloody weather isn’t helping. I was supposed to be in Cumbria tomorrow and now I’ve got to go to Northumberland before the end of the week, which isn’t looking very promising with snow and all the meetings I have scheduled.’
‘You need a bit of time for yourself, Olivia. You shouldn’t work every single day.’ Tom stood up, carried his things over to the sink. ‘It’s just snow and we all have to adapt. It’ll pass.’
‘Try telling my clients that,’ she replied, cross with the change in her plans as well as his rational response to the conditions outdoors. ‘Half of them think they can command the weather as well as me.’
Irritated, she got up and went to the overfull coat stand in the hall,
finding her dad’s battered waxed coat and the scarf again, wrapped them around her. ‘I’m heading out for a bit.’ She might as well take some photos for Ellie and Logan; snow was pretty much the one thing they were guaranteed not to have in their Caribbean Christmas. Olivia stepped into her dad’s wellies too, his feet not much bigger than hers, and took her phone outside.
Children were haring around the green, shrieking excitedly and throwing themselves into drifts, lobbing snowballs into the frigid air. Two boys were building a snowman and a couple of small girls were sprawled on their backs, adults nearby to capture it all on their phones. A snowplough was scraping its way along the high street, shunting piles of snow onto the side of the road. Olivia checked to see if it was Jon Beresford driving and realised it wasn’t.
Everyone was wrapped up in scarves and hats, and she soon recognised Charlie Stewart, the young, ex-rugby-playing vicar, and his wife Sam playing on the green with their little daughter Esther. Charlie and Sam had also been good friends to her dad and Olivia went over to say hello. They were happy to see her, wanting to know how her dad was and if he would be coming to the carol service to do his usual reading, which she told them was likely. Hugh might have moved out of Thorndale but he hadn’t left the village entirely behind.
As a board member of the arts consortium planning to purchase Hugh’s house, Sam was up to speed with the bid and excited about implementing the workshops planned for next year, including drama, which she taught in college. Olivia also learned a bit more about the consortium’s search for a part-time director to manage the programme of events for the writers’ retreat.
Sam also casually dropped in that she and Charlie had had Tom around for supper recently and asked how Olivia was finding sharing a house with him, a merry glint in her eye. Olivia replied that it was fine, which was – for the most part – the truth. It was almost time for church and the young couple gathered Esther up and said goodbye, stomping off through the snow with their daughter squealing in excitement.
Olivia pulled out her phone and, busy capturing images for Ellie, shrieked furiously when something heavy whacked her right on her bottom and exploded in a flurry of snow. She whipped around to see that Tom had followed her out of the house. He had a coat on too, his hair tucked inside a beanie, and was already bending to gather more snow in his hands.
‘Don’t you dare!’ She was half amused, half horrified, and didn’t think for a second he was going to take any notice of her warning – he looked far too determined for that. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’
‘Isn’t it obvious? I thought I’d pelt you with snowballs as retaliation for nearly clouting me with a massive atlas. Seems a shame to waste the opportunity.’
‘But I didn’t even do it!’
‘That’s not the point. You were going to.’
‘Right.’ Olivia bent down, moulding the freezing flakes between her fingers and trying not to gasp at the cold. ‘You’re going to regret this.’ She only just managed to jerk out of the way of his next shot, hindered by the snow clumping around her feet.
‘I’m not sure I will.’
She didn’t think she’d ever had much of an accurate aim, and he was laughing until her first shot landed on his left shoulder. She thought it might have slipped beneath the collar of his coat, judging by his roar. It was her turn to laugh now as he tried to dislodge the last of the snow before it melted on his skin.
It was pointless trying to run – she couldn’t get away quick enough. He was advancing, catching her on her right arm with his next lob and knocking the snowball clean out of her hand before she had time to launch it. She yelled a protest and bent to gather more, managing to duck out of the way of his follow-up shot. Tom was much faster than her at making missiles, so she was delighted when her next hit him square in the chest.
She fought back as hard as she could until they were both plastered in snow and almost doubled up with laughter, their shots missing more often now than hitting their targets. Her hair was drenched where he’d landed a particularly good throw on the side of her head and his jeans were completely soaked.
Still they fought and when Tom was worryingly near he made a grab for her, tripping her easily and depositing Olivia on her back in the snow. She waved her arms and legs merrily, his expression unfathomable. She couldn’t remember when she’d last had so much fun that hadn’t gone in her calendar beforehand.
‘Haven’t you ever seen a snow angel before, Tom?’
‘I was never much of a one for games.’ His reply was murmured, that flash of sadness back in his face.
‘Is that right?’ She reached for his leg, tugging as hard as she could with both hands until she managed to unbalance him, and he landed in the snow nearby. When he saw that she was about to gather more snow to pelt him with, he trapped her hands, pulling her so that she was lying half on top of him.
She could hear the shouts of others playing across the green and yet it seemed they were alone in the snow suddenly, staring at one another. She wouldn’t have to move far to drop her mouth onto his and she made herself wriggle away, standing up and holding out a hand to him. He took it and she helped pull him to his feet, watching as he shook the snow from his coat. They were still holding hands, their fingers reddened by the snow.
‘I should get some more pictures to send to Ellie. She and her boyfriend are coming up in a couple of weeks and it’ll be gone by then.’ Olivia casually freed her hand from Tom’s. ‘I’ll send some to my dad too. At least I’ve got a valid reason for not being able to visit him today.’
Tom was starting to shiver, his coat much lighter than hers, and she pushed his chest gently. ‘Go and get changed.’ Her reply was soft, concerned. ‘I don’t want you to get double pneumonia, even if you did start it.’
‘You were such an easy target, standing there, phone in hand. I couldn’t resist.’ He set off to the house, threw another comment back over his shoulder. ‘But it was definitely the most fun I’ve ever had in the snow.’
Olivia followed him soon after and went up to her room to change out of her wet clothes. She supposed she ought to be clearing some of her dad’s things ready to recycle but she couldn’t face it. She didn’t know whether it was Tom’s presence in the house, or her dad’s absence, that was making her so unwilling to get on with what needed to be done. She sent the images she’d taken to Ellie, who was very much hoping for more snow when she and Logan came to visit. He’d only ever seen snow a few times before and was desperate to go sledging.
The dining room door was firmly closed when Olivia returned downstairs and she heard Tom tapping away at his laptop as she passed. So he was presumably working on a Sunday too. She made a cafetière of coffee, poured herself a cup and splashed some whisky from the drinks cupboard into it. She took a second cup, did the same, and knocked on the dining room door, hoping she wasn’t disturbing him too much. She stuck her head around when he called come in.
‘Hi, sorry to bother you. Made you a coffee with whisky in it case you’re feeling chilled.’
She walked over to the table, saw him nod distractedly. Putting the cup down, she backed away – she didn’t much appreciate being interrupted when she was working either. He thanked her quickly as she closed the door and left him to it. She returned to her own laptop on the kitchen table and started rearranging her calendar for the week.
Once she had checked the forecast, she provisionally scheduled her Cumbrian visit for Tuesday, hoping that the promised thaw would come. Somehow she fell into more work, replying to emails and when she checked the time again it was almost four. She logged into Zoom, smiling the minute her dad’s face popped up via his iPad.
They had a lovely chat and of course he wanted to know how things were with Tom. Olivia told him casually they were fine, and the man himself appeared a few minutes later, wandering into shot behind her and rubbing bleary eyes. Hugh was delighted to see him and insisted that Tom join them and talk about how his writing was going.
Tom
seemed surprisingly happy to talk and it wasn’t long before Olivia began to feel like a third wheel in the exchange. The two men discussed the bookshop, who was buying what, the level of interest in what they were doing by opening up again. She was dying to say there was virtually zero interest and what was her dad planning to do with it all when he sold the house?
But she also recognised her dad’s pleasure, the easy way he drew Tom into conversation, and she couldn’t miss the sincerity of the friendship they obviously shared. After nearly ten more minutes, her dad seemed to remember that she was still there, and Tom stood up to make way for her.
‘No, don’t go, Tom.’ Her dad’s voice always took people by surprise, the largeness and certainty of it at odds with the skin thinned by age, the speckled hands and narrow shoulders. His bright eyes reflected the intelligence and humour always apparent in his face. ‘I want to speak to you both whilst I’ve got the chance. This concerns you too, Liv. It wasn’t exactly how I planned to tell you but seeing as the opportunity has presented itself…’
Oh no, what now? Olivia tried to stop her heart sinking any further as she wondered what new plan he’d dreamt up. She wouldn’t put it past him to be trying to buy more stock and start up the shop again full-time and put Tom in charge.
‘I’ve asked Tom to work through the books in the shop, as well as everything else that’s there. Some correspondence and suchlike from home has found its way to the annexe over the years and I’ve specifically given Tom permission to read and catalogue anything he finds however he chooses. Obviously, his writing has to come first and the shop mustn’t be allowed to interfere with that.’
Okay, that didn’t sound too bad, and a glance at Tom’s expressionless face told her that they both knew there was more to come.
‘Liv, I know you mean well but you simply haven’t the time to go through the annexe as well as the house, and we both know that’s a big project on its own.’ Olivia thought yet again of all her dad had accumulated over the course of his life: the wardrobes full of secrets, drawers heavy with history. ‘There are thousands of books left, including those in my library in the house, and some of them are extremely valuable.’