Once the Clouds Have Gone

by KE Payne

  A cloud of steam billowed from the boiled kettle. It swirled around Freddie before lifting to the ceiling and disappearing. Sleep or no sleep, she should get to bed now, or questions would be asked, she just knew.

  Freddie gripped her phone tighter. She needed to make sure nothing like what had happened that afternoon ever happened again, and that meant staying away from Tag until she finally returned to England. It would be easy, she was sure of it. Skye would be upset, sure, but Freddie would stay home more. She’d give her so much attention Skye wouldn’t have time to think about Tag, and then nor would she. Freddie quickly fired off a text to Tim, knowing he’d still be up.

  Not coming in tomorrow. Feeling ill. Will you be okay on your own?

  She pulled herself away from the counter and busied herself making a chamomile tea. She looked back over her shoulder when she heard her phone hum its way across the kitchen table.

  Tim. Short and sweet: No worries. Get well soon x

  Freddie took a sip from her tea, grimacing at the heat. She added cold water from the tap at the sink. Better. She picked her phone up again and scrolled down until she found all her and Tag’s texts. Reassuring herself that she really was doing the right thing, she deleted one after the other. Each one disappeared into the darkness of the room until no more reminders of Tag were left. This was absolutely the right thing to do. She walked from the kitchen, switching lights off as she went, and headed up to bed.

  Suddenly she had never felt so alone.

  *

  Tag’s key scraped in the front door. She knew she was making a racket, the sound of her footsteps heavy in the hallway, the clatter of her boots being kicked off. She threw her bag noisily down to the floor and flung her coat towards the rack. It missed its mark and slithered down the wall.

  “Fuck.” Would nothing go right? She shuffled across the wooden hall floor and into the kitchen, opening the fridge door, extracted a beer, then slammed the fridge shut. She opened the beer bottle with a satisfying hiss.

  “That you, Tag?” Blair called out from the lounge. “Only one person could ever make that much noise entering a house.”

  “If it’s not, you’re being burgled.”

  “They’d have to bring it in before they could take it out. Most expensive thing we’ve got in this place is the TV, and that’s over five years old.”

  “Good job us Graingers aren’t materialistic then.” Tag flopped down on the sofa next to him.

  “You missed dinner,” Blair said.

  “Not hungry.” Tag drank back her beer.

  “And, hello? What happened to Solidarity, bro?” Blair signalled to her beer.

  Tag didn’t answer.

  “What? No pithy comeback?”

  “Nope.”

  “So how did it go?”

  “How did what go?”

  Blair moved in his chair. “Your photo-taking session at the mill?”

  “Oh. That.” Tag had totally forgotten. “Fine.”

  Freddie hadn’t contacted her. She’d pushed her off when she was kissing her, had fled from the watermill, and Tag hadn’t heard another word from her. Just like that. Hours had passed. Hours wandering in the rain, checking her fucking phone every five minutes. And still no word.

  “Just fine?”

  “Just fine.” Tag chugged back some beer. “Jeez, Blair.”

  “Right.” Blair picked up the TV remote and absent-mindedly flicked up and down the channels. “Tetchy, aren’t we?”

  “Nope.”

  “And Freddie?”

  Freddie? Tag glared at him. What about Freddie I-made-a-mistake Metcalfe? She seethed. Any rationale gathered up while she’d plodded the rainy streets of Balfour about what Freddie had done had blown away like dust. Her hurt at being practically thrown off her had changed into anger and embarrassment. Had she read the signals wrong? Nope, Freddie had given her enough hints to know she was definitely interested, hadn’t she? Tag had thought Freddie was different from Anna, but now it seemed she wanted to be as big a head-fuck as she was. She should have known better.

  Why had Freddie done it? Given out signals then fled from her, even when Tag had reassured her she wasn’t like Charlotte? Tag tapped her fingers on her knee. All reasoning disappeared, so all Tag had to cling to was self-preservation. That would get her through the knowledge that Freddie didn’t want her.

  “What about Freddie?” Tag stared at the label on her bottle.

  “Did you see her?” Blair sighed. “Talk your plans through with her?”

  “Why would I have seen her?” She was being childish as well as awkward, she knew.

  “Because you disappeared up to the mill over six hours ago,” Blair said, “and because the only time you’re not here these days is when you’re with her.”

  “She didn’t need to be there. She knows what I wanted from her.” Tag stewed. Oh yes, Freddie knew exactly what she wanted—both at the mill and outside. “It’s up to her now.”

  “Freddie will come up trumps.” Blair settled back on the sofa. “She always knows what’s best.”

  But best for whom?

  Chapter Twenty-five

  “Mm.” Great. Tag had managed to forget Freddie for five minutes and now here was Ellen talking about her, ten to the dozen. Tag slumped in her chair.

  Two days had passed. How could those two days have dragged so much, though? Despite being caught up in a maelstrom of meetings at Glenside, afternoons in the mountains with Magnus photographing landscapes for the mill advertisements, and phone calls to printers, Tag had never felt so alone. She’d successfully avoided going anywhere near the mill too. Not that it mattered. Freddie, according to Ellen, had called in sick both days since the incident in the watermill. No one had seen her on the school run, no one had heard from her. It was as though she’d retreated back into her safety bolt so she didn’t have to think about, or bump into, Tag. That suited Tag just fine. She’d been hoping for some sort of acknowledgement that their kiss had actually happened. But as the hours and days stretched ever longer, and the silence from Freddie became even more deafening, it was clear that Freddie was doing everything she could to avoid her. She wanted to be like that? Fine. She wanted to pretend it never happened? That suited Tag just fine too. If only her heart would comply.

  “Our regulars already adore Freddie enough as it is.” Ellen watched Tag carefully. “I think new customers would love to have bread-making classes with her.”

  That was so damn cute. Tag shook her head. Enough.

  “Freddie is the lynchpin that holds this place together,” Blair said. “I seriously don’t know what we’d do without her, do you?”

  A meeting with the Freddie fan club. Just what Tag needed. She ran her hands through her hair.

  “We could throw in a free lunch with the cost of the courses,” Tag said. Subtle ignoring. Always good. “Maybe give them a recipe pack, a bag of free flour, and a Watermill apron.” That had been Freddie’s idea. They’d laughed about it and mucked about a bit.

  Then kissed.

  They’d kissed, and then Freddie had run off and now wouldn’t even speak to her, and—

  “I like it.” Ellen was talking. Were they still even there? “Something they can go home with and tell their friends about.”

  Blair wrote it down. At least he was taking it seriously.

  “Redesigning too,” Tag said. That had also been Freddie’s idea. She sighed. Focus. “The place needs a fresh new look.”

  “If you think so.”

  “I do.” Tag paused. It was time to hit Blair and Ellen with her master plan. “And I think Magnus could help us with it.”

  “Magnus?” Ellen and Blair said in unison.

  “I thought about it the other day,” Tag said. “You know he can draw, right?”

  Ellen looked confused.

  “I swear to God! Do you lot ever even actually talk to one another?” Tag threw up her hands. “This is why he’s been coming out with me and photographing things. The kid’s
got an artistic eye.”

  “I don’t understand,” Blair said.

  “Magnus is the most awesome artist I’ve ever met,” Tag said. “You’ve never seen his pictures?”

  “His school stuff, yeah,” Ellen said. “I know his art teacher is very impressed with his work.”

  “And I know he likes scribbling stuff down,” Blair began, “but—”

  “Scribbling doesn’t do it justice,” Tag said. “Sit.” She pointed to a chair each. “Believe me, what Magnus can do is far better than just scribbling. Let me explain.” Tag described the drawings she’d seen, the amazing detail of Magnus’s sketches.

  “Edinburgh?” Blair’s brows knitted in confusion. “That was over a year ago.”

  “The one and only time we ever took him,” Ellen added.

  “Okay, well,” Tag said, “he drew a picture of some fancy house he saw, and trust me. It has to be seen to be believed.”

  “It’s good?” Blair asked.

  “It’s more than good.” Tag nodded solemnly. “It’s the sort of drawing you’d expect a forty-year-old artist to do, not a thirteen-year-old.”

  “He would have been twelve when he did it,” Ellen said slowly. “We went for my thirtieth, remember?”

  “That makes it all the more amazing, then,” Tag said. “Magnus could totally do the artwork for the advertising banner for the bypass. Maybe he could do some prints of the mill too. Sell them in the gift shop. Trust me, people would love it.”

  “I don’t know, Tag,” Blair said, sighing. “I’ve been thinking. Advertising? Rebranding? Prints? Bread-making classes? It all seems like such a mountain to climb at the moment.”

  “But one we can all climb together, surely?” They just had to. Anyway, how could she let everyone down now? After all her promises? She’d vowed she’d give it everything she had to get the mill back on its feet again. And despite everything, she still owed it to Freddie, even though Freddie wanted to avoid her. That was Freddie’s choice. She just wanted to be friends? Fine. But there was no way Tag was going to let her down. Freddie’d been let down enough in her life. Well, no more.

  *

  “Dude, you told them about my drawings!” Magnus flung himself down on his bed. “I said don’t say anything, didn’t I?”

  “Is it such a big deal?” Tag sat on the edge of Magnus’s bed. “I think you could totally be just what they need right now.”

  “Dad thinks I’m nuts,” Magnus said.

  “No, he doesn’t.”

  “He thinks I should be getting myself ready for life on the farm,” Magnus said, “not drawing pictures. If he thinks I spend all my time in my room drawing pictures, he’s going to go mental. Why do you think I always downplay what my art teacher tells me at school? Being good at art means jack to Dad.”

  “I already told him you really like drawing,” Tag said gently, “and he didn’t go mental.”

  “Seriously?” Magnus looked dubious.

  “Seriously.”

  Tag sensed him soften.

  Magnus sighed. “I like keeping my stuff to myself, you know?” he said. “It’s like, it’s the only thing I have for myself. I like that no one else knows about it.”

  “Except me.”

  “Except you,” Magnus agreed. “But you’re cool, so it’s okay.”

  “Thanks,” Tag said, “I’m honoured.”

  “You should be,” Magnus said. “Not even Sonny knows how much I love drawing, and Sonny knows everything about me.”

  “You’ve no idea how much this is helping us,” Tag said. She hesitated. “Your dad’s really pleased you’re doing this.”

  Magnus slunk her a shy look. “You think?”

  “I know.”

  His face reddened.

  “He thought you could sketch us some pictures of the mill itself,” Tag said. “Use the photos I took the other day up at the watermill.” A flashback caught her unawares, as vivid as one of her photographs. Freddie, inches from her. Tag wrung her hands and stared down at the rug on Magnus’s floor, desperately trying to get her breath back under control. No text since Freddie had fled from the watermill, and no reply to Tag’s texts. No presence up at the cafe for two days. But today Freddie was there; Tag had made a point of finding out from Ellen. Yet she still hadn’t called.

  “I could totally draw the watermill,” Magnus said casually. “Probably do it from memory, to be honest.”

  “You’re awesome.” Tag high-fived him.

  “I know.”

  Decision made, Tag stepped to the door and yanked it open. Blair appeared at the top of the stairs.

  “Have you spoken to him?” Blair asked.

  “I have.” Tag stood aside to let him pass. “Now it’s up to you to talk to him some more.” She rubbed Blair’s arm. “Talking is always good, you know.”

  She shut the door behind her.

  “All right, kiddo?” She heard Blair’s low voice rumble from behind the door. “Your auntie tells me you’ve something here that I’d like to see. I think you could really help us…”

  Tag felt happy as she walked away from Magnus’s room. Perhaps one problem was on its way to being sorted. Now, if she could just work through some of her own, beginning with the dilemma that was Freddie.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  “Dad would be spinning in his grave at the thought of making so many changes, you know that?” Blair said.

  “I think Dad would be only too pleased that the Graingers were working together to get this place back up on its feet,” Tag corrected, “especially after everything.” She paused. “I think he’d be happy with what else I’m going to do too.”

  Blair looked at her.

  “I’m going back to England.” Tag rose from her chair.

  “You’re kidding, right?” Blair’s face fell.

  “My time here is up.” Tag shrugged. Wasn’t that the truth? Her time with Freddie, apparently, was up too. “You don’t need me so much here now that our plans are being put into motion. Anna’s asked me to help deliver a contract in Liverpool. My salary will be doubled.” And if Freddie didn’t want her in her life? Well, maybe putting some distance between them would make the hurt go away.

  “So you’re running out on us again?” Blair’s eyes followed her as she paced around the room.

  Tag whirled round. “I’m going down there to make some wrongs right.”

  “And the mill?” Blair’s face was white with fury. “Magnus? Me?”

  “That’s why I’m going back there.” Tag’s voice rose an octave. “Don’t you see? I need to go back there for you all: you, Magnus, Freddie.” Especially for Freddie. Give her the space she so evidently needed.

  “How will disappearing when we all need you possibly help us?” Blair asked. “You’re not doing it for us, you’re doing it for yourself. Just like all those years ago.”

  “Except this time I’ll be coming back.” Tag held her hand silencing Blair. “I feel like I’ve started to get the mill back on the straight and narrow.”

  “You have,” Blair said. “Magnus has drawn up some amazing flyers, we’ve got advertisements going out next week, bookings coming in thick and fast. We’ve been given permission to put a sign up on the bypass—”

  “Which I can work on, via Skype, with Magnus while I’m in Liverpool. I can go back to England with a clearer conscience than when I arrived.” Tag smiled. “And while I’m there, I’m going to transfer my savings and get it wired to your bank.”

  “For me?”

  “For everyone,” Tag corrected. “My savings will pay off our debts, and help pay for all this awesome new advertising Magnus will be working on.”

  “Tag, you—”

  Tag walked away from his protestations. “And my new salary from the Branson deal? Three-quarters of it’s yours. That’ll keep the mill afloat. Pay off bills. Help pay staff salaries.” Tag could live on a quarter salary. Sure, she’d have to stay on in her apartment that Anna helped pay for and let Anna call the shots,
but…

  “But you won’t be here to see it all work out.” Blair stood. “You’re telling me you’d go back to Liverpool and work for Anna so you can help us up here? You’d leave Magnus and Freddie and Skye behind, work in a job you hate, for a boss you hate even more, just so we can keep the mill running?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m telling you.” Blair’s angry words to her, on the first day she’d come back to Balfour, dripped into her head. “Because we all have to make sacrifices for our family, don’t we?”

  “You don’t have to do this.”

  “I do.” Tag’s mind was made up. “It’s only a four-month contract. Plenty enough time to pay off our debts up here and start again.” Suddenly everything was so much clearer. “And I will come back. Once this contract is up, I’ll be on the first flight back to Scotland. Then I’m going to buy my own place in Balfour and be a part of this family again.” That felt good, saying it out loud.

  “You’re really serious about this?” Blair couldn’t keep the smile from his face. She knew he could see it in her face that this time, she truly meant it.

  “Really.” Tag lifted her head higher. “I want to prove to you, to Magnus…to Freddie…that I’m going to stick around.” It was decided. “After all the hurt I’ve caused you, I think I owe you that at least, don’t I?”

  *

  “When you pick me up tonight,” Skye said, “can we sing ‘Head, Shoulders, Knees, and Toes’ again?”

  “Hmm?” Freddie turned round. “Yes, okay. If you want.” She dug at the grit in her eyes as tiredness snapped at her. Sleepless nights tossing and turning, replaying kisses in watermills, did that to you.

  “From the beginning?” Skye hurried beside her. “With all the hands?”

  Freddie and Skye both half ran to the school gates. They were late, but it had all been Freddie’s fault for oversleeping. When she’d finally awoken, Skye was already up, trying to make herself breakfast. Freddie had stumbled, foggy brained, to a scene of destruction in the kitchen: milk and cereal splattered across the counter. Something else she’d have to sort out when she got back.