Her brain flew back to when she’d kissed Alex. That had been passion.
Or had it? She frowned angrily.
It had just been desire, a moment of madness. And even if it had been passion, so what? Passion didn’t mean that two people were suited. Passion didn’t give you safety or security. Passion flared and died unpredictably. It wasn’t dependable.
She sighed and looked at the door to the corridor where the lights were bright and the music was thumping. Ethan would be wondering where she was. She’d run here to get away, but only cowards ran away. And she wasn’t a coward any more, was she? She didn’t like what Alex had told her, but she refused to let it spoil her evening.
Drawing her shoulders back, she smoothed her hair and made her way back to the party. She was going to find Ethan and have a great time – and prove to Alex that he had no idea what or how she felt. None at all.
Ethan was looking for her, and his face lit up when he spotted her.
‘Thanks.’ She smiled as he handed her a glass. He kissed her cheek, and she was disappointed because she felt nothing. Not even a flutter in her stomach. But when she spotted Alex across the room, a shower of fireworks spilled through her.
She told herself that was because she was still angry, and took a long swallow of her drink. She tried to focus on what Ethan was saying – something about the karaoke machine skipping – but it didn’t hold her interest. Her mind wandered, her gaze too. She found herself tracking the Frenchman as he moved around the room, and perhaps he was doing the same because whenever he looked up from his conversation he glanced her way and his expression was intense. Full of remorse too.
Something in her unravelled a little.
Frustrated, she told herself to ignore it. She preferred to stay angry with him: she didn’t want to see an apology in his eyes or feel bad for the things she’d said to him. She was here with Ethan and he deserved her full attention.
Suddenly, on impulse, she turned to Ethan and cupped his chin. He broke off from whatever it was he’d been saying. ‘Lib? What are you—?’
She kissed him hard and with all the passion she could muster, telling herself he was the man for her: he was intelligent, reliable, he shared the same goals …
It was no good.
Her thoughts were stuck on Alex.
Despairing, she broke away.
‘Wow.’ Ethan grinned. His lips were red and full. ‘Dare I ask what brought that about?’
She threw him a fleeting smile. He looked puzzled, but pleased with himself, and she quickly drained her champagne.
‘Liberty!’ They both turned as Dorothy approached, a glass of sherry sloshing wildly in one hand and her walking stick in the other. She seemed extremely unsteady. ‘There you are. Are you going to introduce me to your young man? I didn’t catch his name earlier.’
Liberty rushed to her side and took her arm. ‘Why don’t we find you a seat first?’
‘I’m not completely decrepit yet, you know. But there is a nice place to sit in the living room. Come with me, young man,’ her blue eyes twinkled as she ran an appraising gaze over Ethan, ‘and tell me all about yourself. Lib, would you mind getting me another sherry?’
Liberty wondered if perhaps she’d had enough sherry, but she watched them move away, then headed for the bar. As she crossed the hall, Gary the pub landlord was on stage singing ‘My Way’ on the karaoke. She paused to enjoy the spectacle, then continued weaving her way through the crowd. The room was a little less busy since a lot of people had left at eleven. The music suddenly stopped and jumped to a new song. When Gary looked queryingly at the karaoke guy, he shrugged and said, ‘Machine’s playing up. Sorry, mate.’
The new song began, and Gary turned back to his audience. ‘I’m going to need a partner for this one. Ladies?’
Liberty smiled to herself, but her smile faded when he spotted her. ‘Liberty!’ He beckoned her over. ‘Come and sing with me.’
For the millionth time, she cursed her red hair: it was guaranteed to draw attention. She shook her head and reached the bar where there was a small queue. She waited in line next to George, the retired fireman. If Carys were here she would have jumped onto that stage with Gary, no hesitation. Liberty could picture it: she’d have taken a bow, got the audience clapping along, she’d have sung and danced like a showman, entertaining everyone so they were still laughing about it well into the new year. Liberty, on the other hand, preferred to hide in the corner and remain invisible.
‘Liberty is doing a challenge …’ Gary announced to the room.
A spidery sensation touched her spine. She turned around. He wasn’t – he wouldn’t …
He grinned at her from behind the microphone. ‘For the month of December she must say yes to everything. So I’ll ask you again. Liberty, will you sing with me?’
People cheered, heads turned, and her cheeks filled with hot colour as everyone waited for her reply. Memories flashed up of a school concert when she was small and a room full of parents all watching her on the stage. Her mum had been among them, glowing with pride. But when Liberty had opened her mouth to sing, the notes had stuck in her throat. Fear had paralysed her. Never again, she’d vowed.
‘Don’t look so scared, Lib,’ George said kindly. ‘It’s only a bit of fun.’
The barman slid a couple of glasses of champagne towards him.
‘Say yes, Lib!’ someone shouted.
She cringed. She’d never sung in public – she avoided anything likely to draw attention to her. But if she refused, she’d have failed in her challenge.
Damn. First Alex’s confrontation, now Gary’s challenge: this evening was not going well. She glared at Gary, but he beamed back innocently. She looked around the room. It was half empty now. There wouldn’t be too many witnesses …
What the hell? She grabbed a glass of champagne and downed it for courage. A little nudge from George propelled her towards the stage and Gary helped her up. He handed her a microphone and she looked at the screen where the lyrics for ‘You’re The One That I Want’ began to roll. There wasn’t time to feel nervous, and perhaps the champagne helped, too. Added to that, Gary’s voice was a little off key but it didn’t prevent him from singing with gusto, which made her giggle. Everyone was cheering and smiling anyway. But when it was her turn to start singing, the room hushed.
She faltered. Were they appalled? Anxious, she glanced at the crowd and saw wide eyes and open mouths. Alex came into the room and leaned against a wall. Her nerves tautened.
‘Wow, the girl can sing!’ said Gary. She heard the awe in his voice.
‘She really can,’ said someone in the crowd, sounding amazed.
Relief washed through her. Everyone began to clap, and a burst of satisfaction took her by surprise. Her nerves melted away, and she and Gary finished the duet.
As they took a bow, Gary winked at her, and Dorothy raised her empty sherry glass.
The karaoke machine had stuck again, so a short silence followed. ‘Give me a minute,’ said the karaoke guy.
Then Liberty heard a collective gasp. She reached up on tiptoe to see and noticed a commotion in the far corner of the hall. People moved back suddenly, and she saw that Natasha was staring at the floor in confusion.
‘Your waters have broken,’ Luc announced, shocked. ‘The baby’s coming.’
‘No!’ Natasha cried. Liberty’s friend, who was normally organised and efficient, seemed to lose it and flew into a panic. ‘What do I do? It’s not supposed to come for another three weeks.’
‘We need to go to hospital,’ Luc said.
But Natasha’s expression was one of terror. ‘Something’s wrong. It’s too soon. What if it’s another miscarriage?’
Liberty blinked. Natasha had miscarried before?
It explained why she looked so scared. The blood had drained from her face and when Luc put his arm around her she gripped his shirt as if it were a lifebuoy.
‘The baby’s just coming a bit early,’ said Luc, al
though there was a slight tremor in his voice. ‘Everything will be fine, don’t worry.’
‘No. Lottie was two weeks overdue. There’s something wrong, I know there is.’
‘Every baby is different, chérie. Don’t panic.’
‘It can’t happen now. I’m not ready! Who will look after Lottie?’
Liberty scanned the room and spotted the little girl playing with a couple of other children. Fortunately, she didn’t seem to have noticed anything and was absorbed in a game of chase.
‘Evie said she’ll do it,’ said Luc.
‘Yes. Where’s Evie?’
Liberty looked left and right for her, but Evie was nowhere to be seen. Anyway, was it fair to ask her to babysit Lottie when she was hostess tonight and celebrating her engagement?
‘Oh, no!’ Natasha’s eyes welled up. ‘It’s all going wrong. This isn’t how it should be.’
Sensing her friend was on the verge of hysteria, Liberty hurried down from the stage. The crowd had dispersed, making it easier to cross the room.
‘It’s okay.’ Luc was trying to calm his wife.
Liberty reached them. ‘Why don’t I take Lottie home and put her to bed?’ she offered breathlessly. ‘I know her routine. I can look after her.’
Natasha’s shoulders dropped with relief. ‘Oh, Liberty, thank you. Thank you so much.’
Luc smiled gratefully at her too, then turned to his wife. ‘We should go to the hospital now, chérie.’
Lottie appeared, her friends in tow. She stared at the floor. ‘Why is there a puddle, Mummy? Did you spill your drink?’
Natasha gave a nervous laugh, then crouched to speak to her daughter. ‘Lottie, I have to go to hospital now, so Auntie Liberty’s going to take you home.’ She dug in her handbag and her hand shook as she gave Liberty her keys. ‘Here. For the cottage.’
The music started up again, and they all glanced round to see that the karaoke was up and running again.
Scowling, Lottie folded her arms. ‘I don’t want to go home. I want to stay at the party.’
‘Don’t worry about a thing,’ Liberty told Natasha, and picked up the little girl. ‘You can stay at the party a little longer, honey. That’s fine. We’ll have fun together, won’t we?’
Lottie nodded. Clearly, she didn’t understand what was happening.
‘How about we go and dance now?’
The little girl squealed with delight, and Liberty winked at Natasha. Good luck, she mouthed. Someone arrived with a mop, and Liberty let Lottie tug her back towards the dance floor. As she twirled the little girl and made her laugh, she glanced around for Ethan. Was he still with Dorothy? She hadn’t seen him since she’d gone up on the stage to sing, or Alex, but she didn’t want to think about him.
She felt a tap on her shoulder. As if she’d conjured him with her thoughts, there he was. ‘Ethan!’ She beamed.
He looked at his watch. ‘Are you nearly ready to go? I have an early start in the morning. I’d better make tracks.’
Liberty blinked. ‘An early start?’ He hadn’t mentioned this before.
‘I’m going hiking.’
Nothing important, then. She frowned. ‘Didn’t you hear? Nat’s gone into labour. I said I’d look after Lottie tonight.’
He glanced at Lottie. ‘Ah. Children aren’t really my thing, I’m afraid. Right, well, call me some time, okay?’
He seemed keen to get away. They kissed goodnight, but it was a chaste kiss. No sparks.
But there hadn’t been any before, had there?
Sunday, 14 December, early hours
‘Thanks for the lift, George,’ said Liberty, when they got to Poppy Cottage.
George nodded. ‘Any time, Lib. Looks like you’re going to have an easy night. The little one’s already out for the count.’
His car disappeared into the night, and Liberty shifted the sleepy child on her shoulder as she retrieved the key for the cottage. She carried Lottie upstairs to her room and laid her gently on her bed. While she was undressing her, the little girl woke and sat up. Noticing that this wasn’t her usual routine, Lottie screwed up her nose and began to protest. ‘Don’t want to go to bed. I want to go with Mummy to hosp-al!’
‘Hospital isn’t as nice as your house. Your mummy will want to come home just as soon as she can. That’s why you need to be here waiting for her. Now, let’s get you ready for bed.’
‘Is hosp-al a bad place?’
‘No. But Poppy Cottage is definitely better.’
‘When will Mummy be home?’
‘Very soon, honey. Now, which are your favourite pyjamas?’
‘Starry ones.’
‘Want to show me where they are?’
Lottie scampered over to the chest of drawers and began to search through, scrummaging through all the neatly folded clothes and leaving them in a messy heap.
They read a story and Lottie sucked her thumb, then asked for the landing light to be left on and settled down for the night.
‘Will you stay here all night, Libtea?’
‘I will, honey. I promise.’ The little girl nodded and her eyelids drooped. ‘Goodnight, Lottie. Sleep well, honey,’ she whispered.
A memory sprang up in her mind of her mum leaning over her when she’d been little, and Liberty felt a longing so strong it was like a vice around her chest. A longing to be a mother herself, to whisper those words to her own child. She tiptoed downstairs. Crikey, her body clock had really kicked in when she’d turned thirty, hadn’t it? Was it normal to want so desperately to have children? She must remember to ask Evie if she felt the same.
In the kitchen she put the kettle on, shivering a little. The cottage was chilly, presumably because the heating had switched off for the night. She was exhausted, but she wanted to be sure Lottie had settled before she went to sleep herself. She looked around. Where would she sleep anyway? The cottage had three bedrooms: Natasha and Luc’s, Lottie’s, and the nursery which was all kitted out in yellow and cream with a cot ready for the baby.
She carried a cup of herbal tea into the lounge and wrapped a throw around herself, wishing she was wearing something warmer and more comfortable than a thin satin dress. She wondered how Natasha was getting on and checked her phone for messages, but there was nothing. Then she thought she heard a quiet knock.
It was past midnight. Had she imagined it?
A moment later she heard it again. It sounded like the front door. Who on earth was knocking at this time? She went to the window and nudged the curtain open a fraction. Even in the shadowy light of the moonless night she recognised the messy hair immediately.
Alex. Their angry conversation came back to her. She didn’t know why he was here and he was the last person she wanted to see, but she was worried he might wake Lottie so she hurried to the front door.
‘What are you doing here?’ she hissed, as she opened the door a crack.
He threw her a pointed look that told her he didn’t rate that as a greeting, but what did he expect? ‘I brought you this.’ His voice was low and deep. He held out the big tote bag she used to carry quilts to the post office and opened it for her to see. ‘Thought you might need a few things for the night.’
Inside were her toothbrush, pyjamas, and dressing-gown. Plus a change of clothes for tomorrow: her favourite leggings and velvet tunic.
‘Oh,’ she said, unable to hide her astonishment. ‘That’s … thoughtful of you.’
Perhaps it was an apology or his way of making up for what he’d said earlier. She pictured him collecting all her belongings. He must have gone into her bedroom. It was an intimate thing to do: the kind of thing Carys would have done for her. And talking in hushed voices on the doorstep only added to that feeling of intimacy.
‘I thought you might miss your sewing, too,’ he said, and held up a handful of coloured scraps she’d begun piecing together for Evie and Jake’s engagement present.
‘Oh, wow! That’s great.’ Relief flowed through her that she had her sewing with her, an
d she blinked at him, astonished that he knew her so well. The clouds shifted and the moon appeared, a faint halo above his head.
‘Can I come in?’
Liberty looked over her shoulder. She didn’t really have a choice, did she? Not after he’d gone to all this trouble for her. She stepped back and let him past her.
‘How did you get here?’ she whispered.
‘I borrowed a car from Jake.’
‘They’re his pride and joy. I can’t believe he let you borrow one.’
‘He’s a good guy. And he feels he owes me because I’ve been helping with the work on an old bike of his.’
‘At Guy’s garage?’
He nodded. ‘How’s Lottie?’
‘Asleep, I think. I was going to give it twenty minutes, then check on her.’
From upstairs a small voice called, ‘Libtea?’
Liberty touched a hand to her mouth. ‘Oh, no.’
There was a creak and she pictured the little girl sitting up in bed. ‘Libtea! Who are you talking to?’
She laughed quietly. ‘I guess she wasn’t asleep, then.’
‘I hope I didn’t wake her,’ Alex said apologetically.
‘Libtea!’ Lottie shouted. ‘Is it Papa? Is Papa home?’
‘I’d better go and see her,’ said Liberty.
Alex nodded, and as she hurried upstairs she heard the click of the front door shutting. Her shoulders dropped and she was cross with herself for feeling disappointed that he’d left.
She tried her best to settle Lottie with another couple of storybooks, then sat with her, stroking her hair in the hope that she’d be reassured by her presence – but nothing worked. Every time Liberty tried to tiptoe out of the room, the little girl whimpered and woke, crying. She simply wouldn’t go back to sleep. ‘Why don’t we go downstairs for a cup of hot milk?’ Liberty suggested in the end.
Lottie nodded. She wrapped her in a blanket and carried her down to the kitchen, where she was startled to find Alex. ‘I thought you’d gone,’ she told him.
‘No. I’m still here. Hello, Lottie. Remember me? I’m Alex.’
A Winter's Dream Page 22