Huw looked at her and allowed her a moment of reflection.
‘Obviously I never knew Chloe, but I can bet that she wouldn’t want her beautiful mum to be sad, not forever…’
Grace didn’t trust herself to speak, not knowing what was going to pop out of her mouth next. It was as though he had insight into her mind and it both frightened and comforted her.
He spoke to ease the silence, trying to comfort her with his own experience. ‘I cried every day for a whole year after I lost Leanne and I still cry now. I think of her maybe once or twice a day. It’s the small things that remind me the most – a song on the radio or if I see her favourite programme – but thinking of her once or twice a day is a good thing. It’s a good thing because I used to only be able to think of her twenty-four/seven. She filled up all of the space in my head.’
Grace smiled at his expression; it was literally perfect and a feeling she knew only too well. ‘I feel guilty if I don’t think about Chloe, I feel guilty if I do, but most of all I miss her. I miss her now and I miss what she will never become. Does that make sense?’
He nodded; it made absolute sense. He too missed the child that was never going to be born and the wife who never got the chance to be a mum. He mourned the missed opportunities.
His understanding gave her the confidence to continue.
‘I feel as if I’m mourning what I will never have. And…’ She hesitated, having never spoken these thoughts aloud and anxious as to how they might be interpreted. ‘I keep thinking of the times I was less than patient with her. Like when I hoped she would just go back to sleep so I didn’t have to get up for her, or when I was working and just wished she would be quiet so I could crack on. I wish I’d played with her more, talked to her more, held her…’ She swallowed the bitter-tasting words. ‘I can hear her little voice saying, “Mummy do this” and “Mummy do that” and how sometimes I would be so exhausted I would feel like shouting, “For God’s sake, just leave me alone! Just for a minute, please let me think!” And I want to say sorry to her for that, I want her to know that I would give anything for one minute to hold her and hear her voice again.’
‘You can’t beat yourself up forever about being a normal, busy mum. A mum who was working hard and doing her best to give her daughter a lovely life.’
‘Can’t I?’ She sniffed.
Huw indicated and pulled into a lay-by. ‘Shall we turn around, go back to Gael Ffydd?’
Grace nodded. ‘Yes. Sorry, Huw. I don’t feel up to lunch. I don’t want to see anyone.’
‘You don’t have to say sorry to me, remember?’ He smiled and swung the car round.
Back at the cottages, Monty came running up to greet Grace as she climbed out of the car. ‘Hello, Mont.’ She smoothed his coat and scratched at his neck, which he seemed to love.
‘You’ve got a fan there.’
‘Think I’ve won him over. He wasn’t too keen on me when I arrived.’
‘That makes two of us.’ Huw laughed.
‘Charming! Grace smiled. ‘Thanks for taking me out today. Sorry we didn’t make the pub, but it was lovely to be out in your car.’
‘Any excuse! I love driving her. Tell you what, I’ve got a few chores to do this afternoon, but how about I grab a couple of ciders a bit later and we sit on the deck?’
‘Sure,’ Grace said, noting how animated he seemed.
It was after two bottles each that their tongues loosened and their inhibitions shrank away.
‘I liked you holding me, Huw. Thank you for that.’
‘Jheesh, it’s not every day I get asked! It was nice to feel someone close.’
Grace looked out across the horizon, taking in the mountains against the clouds and watching the birds swoop and dive around the riverbank. ‘I think I see her, you know,’ she confessed.
‘Maybe you do.’ He stared ahead.
‘Do you see Leanne?’
‘Yes, everywhere. Whether it’s in my imagination or it really is her, doesn’t matter, it’s lovely just the same.’ He smiled.
‘I don’t like being this broken,’ she whispered. ‘I wish it would stop.’
Huw almost leapt from his chair. He dropped to his knees on the deck and enveloped her form with his own. He was crushing her to him and smoothing her hair as he kissed the crown of her head. ‘Oh, Grace, you’re not broken, you’re just bruised, and you will get better, I promise. I promise!’
‘There’s too much going on in my head,’ she cried.
‘And I don’t want to add to that confusion, but it’s obvious, isn’t it? You and I have clicked. There’s something going on here, it’s like some good is coming out of this whole terrible, bloody situation. I swear to you, I hadn’t smiled or felt hope for six years, until you pulled up on that driveway.’
Grace kissed his palm where it rested against her cheek. ‘You are wonderful, Huw. You really are. And this place… It makes me feel safe and so much happier than I have any right to be at this time in my life. But I am married and grieving for my little girl and with a messed-up husband waiting to pounce on me the moment I get back.’ She shook her head; it all suddenly felt very overwhelming.
‘So don’t go back. Don’t go back, Grace. Stay here, where you can see clearly and you’re happy. Stay here with Monty and me.’
She laughed. ‘Oh, Huw, you don’t know how good that sounds, but I can’t just pack up and start over.’
‘Why can’t you? Why can’t you just pack up and start over?’
‘Because… Because…’
‘Because what? Because why?’
‘I don’t know! I don’t know why.’
She stood up, shrugging him off. He rose too, and embraced her in another hug. It was confusing. The familiar feel of Tom beneath her palms, and the smell of him, was all she’d known for so long. She was so accustomed to her husband’s height and stature that she knew exactly where to place her hands, rest her head, position her feet. With Huw, she smelt the unfamiliar scent of a human that wasn’t known to her; he smelt of bonfires, trees and paint, with a hint of turpentine.
They swayed in the gentle breeze that drifted up to them from the river.
Huw took her hand and led her through the French doors. They didn’t switch the lights on, preferring the dark as they fell onto the bed and pulled the large quilt over their slightly chilled bodies. Huw kissed her full on the mouth and ran his fingers through her hair. She responded hungrily and tugged at his shirt, feeling the soft matting of curls that covered his chest. She arched upwards to meet him, not wanting to think, not wanting to feel, but happy at the prospect of losing herself for an hour, a minute, whatever she could grab. This wasn’t about sex, it wasn’t about Tom, it was about a distraction, a moment of escape from the misery and the sadness. She lay on top of him and he ran his hands down over her waist and hips as she pushed against him, not caring about anything or anyone but driven by the feel of him, the scent of him. He flipped her over and laid his head against her chest, holding her arms by the wrists, slowing the proceedings. Their breath came in shallow pants.
‘Grace… Beautiful Grace…’
‘Oh God.’ She felt tears of humiliation and regret. ‘Oh no!’
He put his face close to hers and spoke directly to her. ‘No… No, not “Oh no!” Please don’t look like that.’
She hid her face in her hands. ‘Huw, I’m so embarrassed.’
‘Embarrassed? No, Grace. This is too important to me. You’re the first… You’re the first… everything since Leanne, and the circumstances aren’t right. I never want you to regret anything and I never want to take advantage of you and I know that your head is a mess. I need you to be so, so sure.’ He held her tightly.
He was right; there was too much hurt, too much unfinished business, between her and the outside world.
‘Huw, I—’
‘Ssshhh.’
They didn’t need any words; instead, they held each other until the small hours, each locked in private conte
mplation of how it all might end, each hoping that what they were feeling right then wouldn’t be taken from them, not just yet.
Grace fell into a deep sleep with her head against Huw’s chest, rising and falling to the slow rhythm of his breathing. His arms were clasped tightly around her. It was the sweetest sleep she’d had in a very long time.
When morning came, there was less embarrassment than she’d expected; their chaste embrace had been spiritually binding, comforting. Nonetheless, Tom’s face swam into her head, accompanied by the ache of disloyalty.
The smell of coffee being brewed stirred her into activity and as she swung her legs over the side of the bed she felt a certain sense of peace, albeit tinged with guilt, that was new to her, as if the diversion of Huw had indeed taken her away from grief, just for one night.
‘I watched you sleeping,’ Huw said from the breakfast bar.
‘That sounds boring.’ She smiled.
‘It wasn’t. It was lovely. You had your arms up around your face. I never knew the way someone’s eyelashes lay against their cheeks could hold so much fascination.’
‘You need to get out more!’
‘Christ, don’t I know it. My only friend is a bloody dog.’ He smiled and handed her a mug of coffee. ‘I think I’ve figured out what the problem is, Grace.’
‘What’s that?’ she asked, sipping the hot drink.
‘This is not our time. You are someone else’s wife and I still feel like someone else’s husband, and as much as I want more…’ He let this trail.
‘You’re a great bloke, Huw. You deserve to be happy. But I don’t think your happiness lies with me.’ She meant it, every word. ‘Having you to confide in has changed me, helped me.’
‘I’m glad.’ He nodded. ‘I’d wait for you, Grace. I’d wait until you were less—’
‘Broken?’ she offered.
‘Bruised.’
She shook her head. ‘I don’t want last night to change our friendship, and I don’t want us to confuse friendship with anything else.’ She looked away.
‘I agree. Business as normal – we can go for our walks, eat cheese and sit in the bloody dark on the deck!’ He tried to lighten the mood. ‘But I’d be a liar if I didn’t admit that I’m hoping that when you are ready, you’ll maybe give us a chance.’
‘No promises.’ Grace held his gaze.
‘No promises.’ Huw stared back at her.
Monty barked loudly from the field. Both were glad of the diversion.
‘He’s probably found a rabbit.’ Huw made for the door.
Grace followed him in her crumpled clothes and with her hair mussed from sleep. They stood on the step, looking down towards the river, where the dog was scampering about. Grace looked up towards the workshop, where her car was parked.
She saw him instantly.
Her voice was quiet, resigned almost, but with a slight edge of panic. ‘Oh my God! Huw! You have to go to the cottage. You have to get out of here! Now!’
‘What’s the matter with you?’
‘It’s Tom… Tom’s here!’ She felt a dizzying combination of nervousness, excitement and sadness that her adventure was over.
Huw looked at her as he prepared to stride across the field and put as much distance as possible between the two of them. Guilt dripped off him. There was no time to tie up loose ends; they had just a few seconds in which to try and sum up all that the last couple of weeks had meant.
He reached backwards and interlaced her fingers with his. They spoke almost simultaneously, in a rush of words.
‘I feel like I’ve woken up,’ Huw said, swallowing hard. ‘Like I’ve been sleepwalking since I lost Lee. You’ve helped me realise that I might find happiness again. You’ve given me the greatest gift, Grace and I want you to know that I won’t ever forget this terrible, special time…’
‘Thank you… Thank you, Huw, for everything,’ Grace stuttered as she looked into his eyes. ‘You will never, ever know…’
It was inadequate and unsatisfactory, but she didn’t trust herself to say more. One thing she definitely didn’t need was more complications.
With a last squeeze of Huw’s hand, Grace almost jumped from the steps and ran towards the driveway, not wanting to be seen in his company. The last she saw of him was the back of his head as he disappeared into the cottage, banging his thigh and whistling for Monty.
14
In the UK, sepsis kills more people than AIDS, road accidents, breast, bowel and prostate cancer combined
Grace had the advantage of being able to study her husband unseen. She felt instantly guilty that his clothing and pale skin irritated her. His trademark striped shirt with its button-down collar beneath his V-neck jersey was out of place in such a rustic setting, far better suited to drinks in the local pub or a country walk. It wasn’t his fault, he just wasn’t the person that she wanted him to be right then. He just wasn’t Huw. Huw, who had taken her to the river, who had fed her bread and cheese at the peaceful close of day, as iridescent kingfishers swooped on the water.
She was almost upon him when he turned and saw her. He smiled at his wife and appraised her form, nodding almost imperceptibly. She smiled back, comfortable and familiar. He looked a bit better, fuller in the face, as if he’d resumed eating. He’d shaved, his skin had lost some of its sallow pallor and his eyes were brighter, like a cloudy film had lifted.
‘I could kill a beer.’
Typical Tom: start with a joke, break the ice, get everyone to relax. So familiar was she with his modus operandi that it now appeared corny, even contrived.
‘Come on then. I haven’t got beer, but there’s wine.’
He followed her across the field towards the steps that led to The Old Sheep Shed. She looked around, feeling like a local, which was simultaneously exhilarating and embarrassing. They walked shoulder to shoulder without touching and for that she was grateful.
Grace showed him into the studio, deliberately choosing not to sit on the deck, where she and Huw had shared so many confidences.
Tom stood with his hands on his hips and looked out at the view. The breeze was making the trees at the river’s edge bend and creak. ‘This really is lovely, Grace.’
She smiled in agreement. ‘I wasn’t expecting to see you. It’s a lovely surprise, Tom.’
He walked over to where she was standing in the kitchen area and grabbed the opportunity to take her by the hand. His family ring sat on his little finger, emblazoned with its crest and reminding her so much of another world, another home, another life.
‘Is it really a lovely surprise?’ He looked at her with childlike expectancy, willing her to want him.
Her stomach flipped. ‘Yes, of course.’ There it was, another lie, so easy.
‘I’ve missed you, Gracie, and I came here because I wanted to tell you that I don’t know where we’re heading, but I do know that until you come home and we talk, I mean really talk, like we used to, we’re never going to get back into any routine, we’re never going to find our path out of this dark place that we’ve stumbled into.’
She nodded as she discreetly pulled her hand from beneath his. Sitting on the sofa, she tucked it into her lap and out of his reach.
‘I know you’re right.’ She refrained from adding, ‘But I don’t want to get back into a routine with you, I don’t want to find a path. I like being here, I like this peace.’ She was thinking how this place had switched on her senses. It had been nice to have her own space, as if at Gael Ffydd she had time and space to grieve, without having to worry about Tom’s feelings all the time. She remembered a time when he would have been the first person she reached for in her hour of need. How had it all changed so much in such a short time? The answer came back into her mind fast and clear. It’s not him that’s changed, Grace; it’s you. You’re a different person now, a completely different person. Part of you died when Chloe did. Remember?
‘You look so much better than when I last saw you, Grace – apart from your head. Wh
at on earth have you done?’ He touched his finger to the scar on her forehead.
‘I fell down some stairs in the dark. Stupid, really. Apart from that, physically I feel quite well.’ She nodded.
‘You don’t need to say any more. I’m going through it too and that’s why we’ll be okay, Grace, because we’re going through the same thing. We’re the same.’
She looked into her lap and focused on her cuticles, as was her habit. There was a pause while they both gathered their thoughts, familiar and yet strangers.
‘Gracie?’
‘Mmmn?’
Tom took a deep breath, wiped his nervous palms on his thighs. ‘I didn’t mean what I said about you not being there for Chloe. I was just so, so angry and I wanted to be as horrid as I could.’
‘I think we both achieved that,’ she conceded.
‘It’s been bothering me; I keep replaying the things I said to you. I didn’t mean it. I really didn’t. You were and you are a great mum. Chloe was very lucky to have you and she was very, very happy, always. She was.’ He sniffed up his tears. ‘I know that for a fact. She was happy, Grace! Chloe loved you, loved us, and she was always happy. That thought gives me comfort and it should give you comfort too.’
She looked at her broken man and felt a weight lift from her. His words were like balm, lightening her spirit and sending a flicker of hope through the tangle of grief.
‘Thank you for that, Tom. Thank you. That means everything. And I didn’t mean it either.’ He looked at her and nodded, accepting the apology he had hoped for. She nudged him with her elbow. ‘I mean, obviously I didn’t mean it. We both know that you could not make a cake from scratch!’
They laughed and Tom sipped and then raised his glass of wine. ‘Cheers, Grace.’
She raised hers too. ‘Cheers.’
‘So, what’s the plan?’
Three-And-A-Half Heartbeats Page 17