How did you find out about the affair?
“She sent him a picture on her phone. How fucking dumb is that?” His laughter was forced and full of pain.
I didn’t want to ask what kind of a picture, but it didn’t sound like the Helen I knew. She’d always been so prim, and on the nights we’d spent out on our own, she’d always been the one to avoid the crowded bars, opting for a quiet restaurant instead. I remembered a conversation where she believed a mutual friend was having an affair. She’d been so scornful of that.
“Anyway, enough of my woes. What’s going on with this?” he said, effectively shutting down any further conversation.
I paused for a moment. It wasn’t like Chris to shut me out, but then so much had happened, to both of us. We were different people.
I pointed to one of the plans that Dad had taped to the wall so we could visualise the layout. He rose, throwing the cigar box onto the workbench and walked over. He stood for a while, cocking his head to one side as he scanned over the image.
“I think that’s amazing. Whoever drew these has a great vision for this place.”
Miller did them. We had an architect but I didn’t like him.
I thrust the pad in front of him so he could read. Not for the first time did I become frustrated that I couldn’t speak out the words.
“Dani, it’s going to be amazing. A change is what we both need, I guess. I was surprised when you left London so quickly. I kind of imagined you’d want to be surrounded by the memories. I’ll confess, I didn’t understand it at first. You just walked away from a whole life, and I didn’t know how you could do that. I understand now, of course.”
He turned towards me. “I miss him, a lot.”
Christian and Trey had been great friends. They spent time going to watch rugby, sipping on a pint in a bar, or playing golf. They had been skiing together. In my grief, I guessed, I hadn’t thought of the impact on Christian. He placed his arm around my shoulders and pulled me into his side. We fell silent while we thought of Trey, as we looked at the plans.
“You never know, I might come and stay in that spare bedroom until I sort out what I’m doing. There’s something about coming home when you’re troubled that can’t be beat,” he said quietly.
You’d be welcome anytime, I wrote.
We walked back to the house and settled down for lunch. Dad had made soup that we ate with fresh, crusty rolls. Once we’d eaten, I gave Christian instructions to accept the offer on the house. I also asked if he could organise for me to visit the storage unit that housed all my possessions. There would be things I’d want, but I’d decided that the majority of it would be sold. I wasn’t wiping my life with Trey clean; I was creating a new one. Trey would forever be in my heart, my soul, and my memories, but most of what we’d owned wouldn’t fit in the barn anyway.
I stood at the door and watched Christian drive up the lane. I shed a tear for him and his situation. I shed another for baby Alistair who was caught in the middle. Dad and I sat in the living room with a cup of tea and I relayed the conversation to him.
Chapter Eleven
It was two days later that Christian called and told Dad that I’d effectively sold my house. He’d instructed a solicitor to act on my behalf and would be in touch when he had more news. He hadn’t mentioned Helen, or his situation, to Dad at all. I dug out my mobile and charger. It hadn’t been turned on for months and once it had a suitable charge, I texted him.
How are things at home?
His reply was prompt. Not good at all. New development that I can’t talk about right now. I’ll come down soon, I promise.
I wondered what the new development was and worried for him.
“I think Chris might be coming here for Christmas. Things must be really bad if he’s prepared to miss Alistair’s first Christmas,” Dad said, when I walked into the kitchen.
Did he say that? I wrote.
“Sort of. He said he was making some plans to visit over Christmas, he didn’t specify Christmas Day, and he didn’t mention Helen at all.”
Dad sat at the kitchen table and rubbed his palms over his face.
Please don’t worry, Dad. He’s a grown man; he’ll sort it out. I pushed the pad between his elbows so he could read.
“I just can’t believe what’s happened. They seemed such an ideal couple. Why would she do that?”
I don’t know. Something had to be missing in their relationship, I hope. I’d hate to think she is someone who could do that for no reason, other than self-gratification, I wrote.
Was there ever justification in having an affair? Maybe I was being too kind. To bring a child into a relationship, where the father might not actually be the father, was quite cruel in my mind. And if there was something lacking in their relationship, shouldn’t they have tried to fix it, or should she have left Christian?
Dad mumbled about needing to pay his newspaper bill. He shrugged on his jacket, wrapped a scarf around his neck, and pulled a cap from a peg in the hall. His movements were laboured and when he patted his leg for Lucy to follow, they both seemed as rickety as the other. I watched from the front door as they slowly walked up the lane.
It was as I was about to close it that I saw Daniel, casually dressed, walk past. He turned and waved. I indicated with my hands the letter T, in the hope he’d understand. He smiled and nodded enthusiastically.
“It’s a bloody chilly morning. I just saw your dad walking up the lane,” he said, as he walked through the front door and followed me to the kitchen.
I set the kettle to boil and gathered two mugs from the cupboard, while he unwrapped himself from the many layers he appeared to be wearing.
Aren’t you supposed to be wearing your uniform at all times? I wrote on my pad.
He chuckled. “I’m allowed a day off, aren’t I? To be honest, it’s nice to get out of that garb. Whoever invented the collar needs shooting.”
My jaw clicked open and my eyes widened in shock at his comment. His laughter though was infectious, and although in my head, I laughed along.
“But if I find someone who is in need while on my walks, I do have this…” He pulled his collar from his jean pocket.
Doesn’t quite go with the T-shirt! I wrote.
Daniel wore a black T-shirt with AC/DC blazoned across the front. I hadn’t taken him for a rock music fan.
“When I first arrived, I had the radio blasting out tunes from some rock station in the church while I was pottering around. Mrs. Hampton, when she came to set out some flowers, nearly had a fit.”
I guess you’re not the typical village priest, or vicar, whatever the term is.
“Life isn’t typical, Dani,” he said with a smile. “Now, there’s a local folk band playing in the pub this evening, and I don’t want to go on my own, I get accosted by the old women. Do you fancy coming with me?”
I blinked a couple of times, unsure of how to answer. I didn’t want to go out in public. My pen hovered over the pad; I was thankful the kettle came to a boil and I had the distraction of making tea while I thought on his request.
“Here’s the plan. We sneak in, grab a beer or two, and find a corner to sit in near the band. It will be too loud for the old dears to want to come and chat.” He smiled at me.
So you’re inviting me because you’re frightened of the old dears in the village? I teased, trying to hide the smirk.
“Of course. Although, I can’t say that I don’t enjoy your company. It would be nice to get out, wouldn’t it? Invite your dad, too.”
I thought I might feel a little more comfortable with Dad there but that seemed silly. There wasn’t anyone in the village that wasn’t aware of my situation. Most had been to Trey and Hannah’s funeral. They talked to Dad, asked how I was getting on.
“The whole village attends, it’s like a one-night folk festival. The music is often terrible but it can be so bad, it’s fun. Not that I say that in public, of course.”
Daniel sipped on his tea, wincing as he
took too large a mouthful and burnt his lips. He was fun to be around, and although I still felt conflicted, a part of me wasn’t sure I was meant to be having fun, the thought of listening to terrible bands with him sounded appealing.
I nodded. Okay, I’ll come.
“That’s fantastic. I’ll swing by about seven.”
Daniel finished his tea and left. It took as long to wrap himself up, as it had to drink his tea in the first place.
At seven o’clock promptly, Daniel knocked on the door. Dad had decided a night in the local pub with folk music wasn’t his idea of a good time so decided to stay home. It was with shaking hands that I opened the front door. I was greeted with the familiar smile and a hand to help me into my coat.
“Ready to save me?” he asked. I nodded, patting my pocket to reassure I had a pad and pen with me.
Daniel held out the crook of his arm, encouraging me to take it. He patted my hand when I did, laughed, and we started the walk to the village green. The Black Lion was a historic building. Even at five feet and two inches, I had to duck my head to walk under some of the beams. It had been a while since I’d visited the pub, and the last time had been with Trey. A pang of sadness hit me in the centre of the chest and my breath caught in my throat.
“Breathe, Dani,” Daniel whispered, alerted to my discomfort.
He took hold of my hand, and at first, I froze. I hadn’t held anyone’s hand other than my dad, Christian, or Trey’s for a long time. Whether he sensed my hesitation or not, I wasn’t sure, but he let go and placed his hand on my lower back to guide me through the bar to the only vacant table. I took a seat with my back to the wall and scanned the bar. The first band was about to strike up, and I noticed many people smile, or wave over to me. Daniel asked me what I wanted to drink, I opted for a glass of wine and he left me to stand at the bar. I felt sorry for him; he was ‘assaulted by those old dears’ constantly.
I caught sight of Miller at the other end of the bar, he looked over to me, and although I smiled at him, it wasn’t instantly returned. I frowned at him, hoping he’d understand that I was concerned. He hadn’t been himself for a couple of weeks. I saw his shoulders rise and fall, as if he’d taken a deep breath; he pushed himself away from the bar and weaved his way through the throng queuing to get to my table.
I had just taken off my coat and fished around in the pocket for my pad and pen. Miller took the only available seat next to me.
“Hey, it’s nice to see you out,” he said, giving me a genuine smile then, or so I thought.
It’s been a while! Daniel invited me and I thought, why not? I wrote.
“Sorry, that took forever. Miller, can I get you another?” Daniel asked as he joined us.
I noticed that awkwardness between them and wondered, again, what their deal was.
“No, thanks. Just having the one and then I’m leaving,” Miller replied. Although he’d smiled at Daniel, it didn’t appear to be genuine.
A short silence followed. Daniel placed my wine on the table and I smiled my thanks. He stood to one side, not having a spare chair, and Miller didn’t offer him the one he was sitting on.
“So, how are things?” Miller asked me.
Okay, I showed my brother the plans for the barn. He was very impressed with your vision, I wrote.
Talking about his work seemed to perk Miller up a little. “I’m glad he approved,” he said.
“Miller is an amazing architect,” Daniel said, smiling at his brother. The smile wasn’t returned.
“Yeah, well, I better get going. It was nice to see you out and about, Dani,” Miller said. He stood, downed the rest of his pint, and simply nodded to his brother before he left.
Daniel sighed, and then took the vacated seat.
You two don’t seem to get on, or is that too personal for me to say?
I kept the pad close to me for a little while, wondering if I should show Daniel what I’d written. It made no difference, he’d obviously seen.
“We did, for a long time. We were very close as children, but then something happened, and I think Miller didn’t feel that I supported him enough. He’s a very stubborn man; he alienated himself from the family for a while. There are things we disagree on. But let’s not worry about that now, we’re here to laugh at the terrible music and pretend it’s the best thing we’ve heard in ages.”
Before I could consider a response, a wailing drowned out any noise inside the bar. I looked towards the ‘stage,’ which was nothing more than a small raised platform made out of pallets, to see a man on a violin. Although it wasn’t like any violin I’d ever seen before, it looked homemade.
The wailing was short-lived, thankfully, only to be replaced by the not so dulcet tones of a man who looked, and sounded, more drunk than sober. It was hard to actually hear what he was singing about, and when I looked over to Daniel, I could see a man desperately trying to hold back the laughter.
His cheeks had reddened and his eyes watered. I could see the tension in his jaw as he ground his teeth together to keep his mouth closed. The addition of a tambourine was the tipping point for him. Daniel bent over double and laughed so hard he had tears streaming down his cheeks. It was hard not to join in. Although I didn’t make the sound, I covered my mouth with my hand and my body visibly laughed along with him.
A chuckle started on the table beside us, and like a tsunami, that chuckle built and flowed from table to table, until most of the people sitting in the bar were laughing. The man kept singing, the tambourine kept tinkling, and at the end people stood and gave a round of applause. I wasn’t sure it was in appreciation, though.
“I’m sorry, but that was about the funniest thing I’ve seen, or heard,” Daniel said, wiping his eyes on a napkin.
We sat through another band, one that, thankfully, was quite good. I’d been sipping on my wine and Daniel chatted, as much as he could with the noise of the busy pub obliterating his words.
After a little while I grew hot and uncomfortable. I think my limit on being in public for the first time in ages was slowly approaching. Perhaps Daniel saw, or felt, my discomfort.
“Shall we get out of here? It’s getting rather stuffy,” he said.
I nodded and pulled my coat from the back of my chair. It was too warm to put it on, so I waited until we walked through and out the front door. The chill that hit me had me shiver. Daniel took my coat from me and held it open. I shrugged into it. We took a slow walk back to my house.
“Any more thoughts on Lincoln?” Daniel asked.
It wasn’t always the easiest to write while I walked so I just shrugged my shoulders.
“I must admit, Anna intrigues me. It’s not often that we have so very little information in the church on our guests.” He chuckled at the use of his words.
I’d begun to think the gentleman I’d seen wasn’t Lincoln after all, although I still had an elderly man in my mind when I pictured him. I thought back on his last letter and the sadness I’d picked up from his words. I was due to write to him and wondered if it would be right to ask him to meet me. Would it dispel the mystery around him? I appreciated his letters, his words comforted me, and although I was concerned for him, if I met him would we get on in real life?
We arrived back at the house, and I gave Daniel a smile in thanks for walking me home.
“Well, here we are. Thank you for spending the evening with me. It was nice to get out and it not be a work call,” he said.
I reached for my pad. I enjoyed myself; I didn’t think I would, so thank you for inviting me.
“We’ll have to do it again some other time,” he said. He gave me a smile before leaving.
The hallway and the kitchen light were left on, but I suspected Dad had already gone to bed. He seemed to retire to his bedroom earlier and earlier lately. I made my way to the kitchen and switched the kettle on to boil. The glass of wine had left me with a dry mouth. I made my tea, patted Lucy on the head, and then took my mug upstairs.
Once I’d chang
ed into my pyjamas, I pulled a wrap around me and snuggled into the chair by the window. I placed the tea on the small wooden table and picked up my writing pad.
Lincoln,
I can’t help but detect sadness in your last letter and I’m concerned about you. I don’t know if you have friends locally, but if you ever felt you’d like to meet up, I’d enjoy that. I felt the loneliness in your words, although I might be way off the mark. Forgive me if I am. I know you said that it’s Anna’s anniversary coming up, and I wondered if you’d like some company on that day? I’d hate to think of you sitting alone. You’ve become important to me, your words have given some clarity to the mess that is my mind, and I’d like to think I could be a friend to you.
I went to the pub tonight with Daniel, and Miller was there. I hope you don’t think I’m gossiping, but they don’t seem to get on, and that worries me, too. They’re brothers, and as much as I’d like to see if I can help to repair their relationship, I think it would be seen to be interfering. Sometimes, I feel that Miller doesn’t approve of any time I spend with Daniel, and I don’t know why. I don’t think we have the kind of relationship where I could ask why. After all, I guess he is just my builder, and although he’s friendly, and I find him great to be around, he does keep his distance. I think I’m just trying too hard, hoping to be friends with them both.
I heard some terrible news. My sister-in-law is, or was, having an affair. My brother is devastated. He opened up a little to me, but I can sense there’s so much more he’d like to say. We’re twins, I can feel when he’s not right. That was the strangest thing to get to grips with when we were children. It’s like a sixth sense that we have. More that I have, I guess.
I’m rambling on, aren’t I? I meant what I wrote, if you’d like some company, I’d be honoured to be your friend.
Dani.
I read the letter a couple of times, hoping that I didn’t come across as someone needy for a friend. My sentiment was genuine; I wanted to get to know the man behind the words.
Letters to Lincoln Page 10