Once the Clouds Have Gone
Page 16
“So where does Tag fit into all this?” Pete’s voice stirred her.
“She doesn’t,” Freddie replied emphatically.
“But you like her?” Pete asked. “The look on your face tells me you do, despite all your protestations at the ceilidh last week.”
“More than I should. We kind of clicked straight away.”
“More than you should?” Pete rested his head against the sofa. “You’re allowed to like someone, Freds.”
“Yeah, but Tag?” Freddie groaned. “Of all the people for me to fall for.” This couldn’t happen. It would be like Charlotte all over again, Freddie just knew it. Before long she’d have slipped back into anticipating Tag’s call, and feeling disappointed if she didn’t call, just like she did with Charlotte when they first dated. She’d start to relish Tag’s undivided attention as though Freddie was the most important thing in her world, and love Tag’s increasing affection for Skye. Freddie felt nausea rising. How could she have been so weak as to let Skye get so close to someone again? Could Tag give herself emotionally to both Freddie and Skye, so they were both the focus of her whole life? Charlotte couldn’t. Why should Tag be any different?
“Does she even know you like her?” Pete pressed.
“No.” Freddie bent forward. She reached behind her and plumped her cushion up. “And I want it to stay like that.”
“Does she like you?” Pete dug Freddie in the ribs.
Freddie squirmed and batted his hand away. “I’ve no idea.”
“You must have an inkling.”
“There’s been hints.”
“Go on.” Pete sat up straighter.
“And there was an incident,” Freddie said slowly. “Yesterday, at the cafe.”
“An incident?”
“I had flour in my hair.”
“As you do.”
“And Tag got it out.”
“Is that it?” Pete fell back.
“I couldn’t look at her,” Freddie said. “I thought she’d see my heart was going nuts and I’d gone bright red.”
“Goes like that when you’re hot for someone.” Pete clutched dramatically at his heart.
“And that’s just my problem.” Freddie ran her hands through her hair. “I’ve been seeing too much of her lately.”
And it was all her own fault, she knew. She’d been too soft, too friendly. She just had to say no to Tag in the future. Act like she didn’t give a damn. Keep it professional and not let her emotions get in the way. That was her trouble, Freddie thought. She was too emotional, too needy. Tag would be gone in a matter of weeks. That’s the thought Freddie had to keep telling herself over and again. Tag was temporary.
“You’re only going for a coffee, Freds,” Pete contested. “A social meeting. That’s all.”
“I do like her company.” Freddie looked to the cushion as she heard her phone give a muffled buzz. “But I just can’t allow myself to fall for someone who might not be here this time next week.”
“That her?” Pete signalled to the cushion.
“Probably.”
“You’re not going to see?”
“Nah.” Of course she wanted to read Tag’s text. Maybe later. When Pete had gone.
“The next girl along isn’t necessarily going to be another Charlotte,” Pete said gently. “Charlotte was a bitch. Chased you and chased you until you gave in. Gave Skye a load of crap about how she wanted to be a mother to her and then what?”
“She fucked off.”
“She fucked off,” Pete repeated, “and you had to take happy pills for six weeks to get over it.”
“Thanks for reminding me.”
“And Skye cried herself to sleep every night for a month, refused to go to school, hated Charlotte—”
“Hated me—”
“—and all because that selfish cow couldn’t cope with the idea of Skye.”
“No,” Freddie corrected, “all because I was stupid enough to fall for Charlotte in the first place.”
“Everything that happened was because of her. Not you.”
“Anyway.” Freddie sat up straighter. “It’s all water under the bridge now. I’ve cancelled Tag. I’m steering clear of her until she goes back to England, then no one gets hurt. Not me, not Skye.”
It was easy. If only someone would tell her breaking heart, though.
*
“And Sonny—he’s in my year at school—well, he’s a total airdog.” Magnus hugged his knees to his chest and gazed out in front of him. “But I prefer speed, not dumb tricks all the time.”
“Sonny the airdog is your mate?” Tag asked. She shot him a look. Studied his profile, illuminated by the low morning sun. Her mind fell pleasantly blank. Her nephew, this kid that she’d adored as a baby, as a toddler, and still adored now he was a teenager, had chosen to hang out with her for the day. Her. He could have chosen to spend his day off with Sonny, or whatever other friends he had, but he’d chosen to spend it with her. He’d chosen. She hadn’t asked him, he’d asked her. That made Tag feel special, and as she now gazed out around her, feeling Magnus’s ski jacket occasionally brush hers as he spoke, she thought even if she and Magnus never spent another day together while she was in Balfour, she’d never forget this moment.
“I do have friends, you know.” Magnus hugged himself tighter. “I’m not the saddo loner that Dad seems to think I am.”
“He doesn’t think—”
“He does.” Magnus pulled his beanie off and ruffled his hair. “But I come up here with Sonny and another friend from school called Ryan most weekends when there’s enough powder,” he said. “But Sonny sometimes just wants to muck around. I like freeriding, not jumping about like a jerk.”
He was sitting close, comfortable in her company. Tag stretched her legs out in the snow in front of her, her breathing finally slowing after the long climb back up the hill. They’d had a blast, she and Magnus. Tag nestled her chin down into her jacket and smiled, content. As Magnus spoke, her eyes lifted to seek out the road up to the cafe. She pictured Freddie behind the counter; Freddie chatting to customers; Freddie enthusing about whatever homemade cakes she might have to offer them today. Tag’s smile deepened. She’d tell her that she’d spent the day snowboarding with Magnus. Freddie would like that, Tag was sure. Did Freddie like snowboarding? Tag narrowed her eyes and tried to focus on the cafe from so far away, knowing she wouldn’t be able to see Freddie from where she was, but wanting to try anyway. Just in case.
“Aren’t I?” Magnus’s voice pulled Tag’s eyes away from the cafe and back to him.
“Aren’t you what?” she asked.
“Better at freeriding.”
“You laid a few tricks down back there.” She jabbed her finger over her shoulder. “I thought you were awesome.”
“You were pretty sick too.” He scratched at his cheek. “You sure you haven’t done this for years?”
“So you think falling over twenty times in a row is awesome?” Tag groaned at the pain in her hip. “And, yeah. I’m sure I haven’t done it in, like, forever. Seriously.”
“Well,” Magnus said, “you’re good.”
“Cheers.”
They sat in amongst a small coppice of fir trees. Adrenaline had faded to tiredness. Magnus’s face and her own too, she was sure, were crimson from a combination of the cold, exhilaration, and the effort of the repeated climb back up the hillside. As she sat and zoned out, Tag could feel beads of sweat trickling down the small of her back. The snowboarding had been amazing. Better than she’d remembered. Their boards had slashed through the soft, powdery snow, sending up sprays of white as they raced one another down the slopes over and over again. They’d laughed and shrieked. They’d supported one another, and they’d tried, of course, to knock one another over on every single descent.
She cast a look over to Magnus, feeling absurdly happy. The years fell back; she was eighteen, he was five. Back then, they’d always loved coming out together when it snowed. They’d sit, side by
side, with their tongues hanging out, trying to catch the snowflakes as they fell, both betting the other that they could catch one hundred flakes before the other did. The first one to catch the treasured hundredth flake would have good luck for the rest of the day. Those were the rules back then.
They’d both loved and shared a lot of things then: packets of jelly babies, silly jokes, cartoon reruns in the afternoons that she would sit and watch with him for hours on end. Now, nine years later, it seemed they still shared a love of something: their snowboarding.
Magnus sat, deep in thought, as his eyes roamed the landscape. Without speaking, he shrugged off his rucksack from his shoulders, letting it fall softly into the snow behind him. He opened it up and rummaged around for a few seconds before he pulled out a bottle of water. After he’d drunk from it, he handed it to Tag, who took it and drank from it too. While Tag was drinking, Magnus delved back into his rucksack, this time pulling out a notepad and pencil. He flipped the notepad open, then flicked his eyes from the trees and back to the blank sheet of paper in front of him. Then he began to sketch.
“You like drawing?” Tag moved closer to see. The outline of a tree began to take shape on the page.
“Mm-hmm.” Magnus peered up at a branch, then sketched what he’d seen. “I love it,” he said. “I carry this thing with me pretty much everywhere I go.” He tapped the end of his pencil on his notepad. “I can never resist scribbling down a quick sketch of something I’ve seen, or somewhere I’ve been.”
Tag watched as his hand became a blur, drawing the view that was right in front of them. Occasionally he’d stop to put the end of his pencil in his mouth. Then he’d start again, even faster, it appeared to Tag, than before.
“This is amazing.” The drawing came to life with every stroke of his pencil. “How long have you been drawing for?”
Magnus shrugged. “Since I was little.” His brows bunched into a frown with concentration. “Mum gave me a box of pencils and a sketch pad when I was about six, and it all kinda went from there.”
“She never told me how good you are at it.” Tag rested back on her elbows.
“She doesn’t know.” Magnus flipped his pencil upside down and hastily erased something before starting again. “I just do them for myself. I never show them to anyone.”
“Not your dad?”
“Nah. Not him.”
“You should.”
Magnus hunkered further over his pad, engrossed. “He thinks I’m weird enough as it is,” he said.
Tag’s heart pulled. So Magnus would never show his parents his work, but he’d had no hesitation in drawing in front of her? The invisible thread pulling her closer to him tightened. Would he tolerate a hug? Tag watched him from the corner of her eye as he carried on drawing, lost in his own little world. Perhaps not yet. Kid was nearly fourteen after all, way past the hugging stage, and Tag had racked up the cool points with him today. No point in losing a few just because Tag felt grateful to him for sharing one of his secrets.
“He wants me to be a farmer, not an artist.” Magnus flicked her a look. “Dad.”
“And what do you want?”
He slid the pencil behind his ear and held his pad up, blowing pencil residue from it.
“I just want to be allowed to draw in peace,” he said simply.
“Your father,” Tag began, “says what he says for a good reason, I guess.” She held up her hand when Magnus tried to retaliate. “A long time ago your granddad used to think I was a daydreamer as well because all I ever wanted to do was draw, or muck about on mountains, or skateboard my arse off all day.”
“You draw?” Magnus’s eyes widened. “Unreal. What? Paints? Pastels? Sketches?”
“All of those.” She sat up and drew her knees to her chest. “Don’t you remember? I used to draw things for you when you were a kid. Silly cartoons, funny faces. Stuff that used to make you laugh.”
“I don’t remember.” Magnus rolled a shy look to her. “I don’t remember much from when you used to live here. I wish I did, though.”
“I started drawing when I was about your age.” The look on Magnus’s face had near killed her. “I started off doing what you’re doing now.” She nodded at his picture. “Pencil sketches.”
“Now?”
“Then I progressed to pastels and oils.” Tag shrugged. “And I turned it into my job.”
“You get paid to paint?” Magnus threw himself back onto the snow, mock-groaning. “Seriously? I’d love that one day.”
“I take photographs when I’m out and about,” Tag said, “then develop the pictures and sketch or paint what’s on the photo.” She looked down at him, still lying in the snow. “It’s all to do with advertising. Clients wanting a more natural picture and all that.”
“And you seriously get paid to do that?”
“I do. I get paid a lot to do that.”
“That’s insane.”
“I know.” She laughed. “But what I’m trying to tell you is that your granddad always thought it was a waste of my time drawing because he thought nothing would ever come of it,” she said. “So don’t let your dad be the same with you. He always supported me so much when I was your age.”
“But if he supported you then, why doesn’t he now?” Magnus asked. The kid was smart.
“Your dad still has a lot of forgiving to do where I’m concerned.” That jarred. Tag jumped to her feet. Time to snowboard again. “And with everything with your dad, Magnus,” she said, hauling him to his feet, “it’ll take time for him to trust me again.”
Chapter Sixteen
The pile of papers scattered across the floor of her room reminded Tag that her petulance hadn’t faded with age. Paperwork with figures and calculations loomed up at her. Red pen marks. Scribbles and exclamation marks. Tag had even put a WTF? in a margin somewhere. Her dad would have been furious—assuming he’d known what it meant, of course.
Accounts, she figured, were never going to be her strong point.
Anyway, what was she even doing here? At breakfast she’d thought it was going to be the perfect day. A morning’s snowboarding with Magnus, an afternoon with Freddie. Returning to her phone back at Glenside shortly after lunch had put paid to that. Freddie had bailed, so where was Tag now? Holed up in her room at Four Winds, trying to make sense of the mill’s accounts when she should have been savouring Foxy Brown’s apparently awesome mochas with Freddie, that’s where.
Tag stepped over her papers and sat back on the floor. Invoices dating back, apparently to the Middle Ages, demanded that Tag think of them rather than mochas and Freddie. Service reminders for machinery she didn’t know existed screamed up at her. But Freddie had blown her off. She stared down at the floor, bored with it all.
Her phone rang on the carpet next to her leg. Anna. Tag watched her name flash on and off the screen. She’d ignored three calls from her already today. Could she ignore a fourth?
She grabbed it up. “Anna.”
“There you are.” Anna sounded grumpy. Great. “I’ve been ringing you all morning.”
“Been busy.”
Hey Tag, Can’t make it this afternoon after all…
Such a lame text. Why had Freddie cancelled? Had she had a better offer? Or didn’t she want to hang out with her after all?
“When are you coming back to me?” Anna put on a girly voice. “I miss you.”
“Don’t.”
“Don’t what?” Anna gave a small laugh. “Tell you I miss you? I’m telling you because it’s true.”
When I don’t give you a second thought? Tag bit down furiously on a nail. Why did Anna always have to do this? Be a head-fuck? She pulled at her nail with her teeth. Why did Anna like to play with her like this?
“I’m joking with you,” Anna said when it was clear Tag wasn’t going to answer. “I rang to talk to you about the Branson deal.”
“What about it?” Tag moved some papers around on the floor.
“We got it.”
“C
ool.” Tag should have cared. She’d worked damn hard while she was in Liverpool to help get that deal sealed. So why did she feel so flat? “Well done.”
“So it’ll mean all systems go next month.” Tag could hear Anna was moving around. Where was she? The office? Tag heard phones ringing, computers beeping. Yes, the office. The place where once Tag had felt at home, where she’d spend hour after hour working closely with Anna. Where they’d stay on after everyone had left for the day and—
“Did you hear me?” Anna’s voice was hard. Anxious. “It’ll mean longer hours and—”
“I heard you.”
Why hadn’t Freddie explained more about why she’d cancelled? She was the one who’d suggested it in the first place. Tag frowned. Maybe Skye was ill. Maybe she ought to go up there and make sure everything was okay.
“It’s a four-month deal,” Anna said. “Double pay. Triple if we nail it. Oliver Branson has assured me.”
“Well, congratulations.”
“So, you’re in.” It was a declaration rather than a request. “You’ll work exclusively on this contract until midsummer.”
Tag sat up straighter. “Anna, wait.” She paused. “I don’t know if I can be back in time.”
“You said you’d take five weeks off,” Anna said. “And I complied, which I think was more than generous of me.”
“Things are complicated here.” Was Tag still talking about all the paperwork? Or Freddie?
“Seriously, how long does it take to wrap up details on your little mill?” Anna sounded bored. “Just grab your inheritance and get back here pronto. I’m surprised it’s taken you this long already.”
“I still have so much to do.” How did Anna always manage to make her angry? Even after all this time? “Dad’s bank details, transferring funds, changing names on all the paperwork.” Why was she fuming like this? The fact that she wasted any emotion on Anna was galling. Anna, Tag figured, so wasn’t worth the effort. “And, anyway, you haven’t paid me for the Schofield contract yet. That was months ago. So before we start talking about a new contract—”