“She was thrilled. Said she’d be here in a half hour with wine,” Dad said when he returned to the kitchen.
“I think it’s nice that she wants to spend time with you.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that.”
“She does, and you want to spend time with her. It’s great, Dad.”
“It’s nice to have her company. I mean, I love spending time with you…”
I cut him off. “Dad, it’s fine. You’re allowed to have a companion,” I said.
“Well, before she gets here, I want to give you something.”
Dad left the room and I could hear the under stairs cupboard door open. He returned with a large package wrapped in brown paper.
“Oh, you didn’t have to,” I said, taking the package from him.
“It’s not much, because we said we weren’t going to bother but…Open it.”
I unwrapped to find a wooden plaque. Carved into the plaque were two words.
The Hayloft
I looked up at Dad. From behind his back he presented me with a small book.
“I did some research, on the interweb. The barn was known as The Hayloft and since you’ll need an address, I thought it might be nice to go back to that. I made a book of all the research I’d found.”
“You made a book?”
“I found a website thingy that made it for me. It was all quite easy really.”
I opened the book and read the dedication on the first page.
To my darling daughter,
This is your new home, and the start of your new life. A life that, I hope, will be filled with new adventures and new memories to carry you forward.
You’ll never forget your old life, but now is the time to let it all go and start afresh. I hope The Hayloft will help you do that.
I love you, Dani,
Dad xx
I quickly rubbed at a tear that had dripped to the page.
“Oh, Dad, it’s amazing, I love it. Thank you so much.”
He wrapped me in his arms and held me tight. “I’ve missed you, Dani. For the past year, I’ve missed the woman that I know, but I can see she’s on her way back, and I’ll forever be thankful for whoever, or whatever, has helped that to happen.”
“I don’t know what to say,” I said.
“Nothing, Dani. You don’t need to say anything. Just start living again.”
I placed the book on the table and picked up the plaque.
“It’s a piece of driftwood I found on the beach. I thought it was something that was lost and now it has a home,” Dad said. That made me tear up again.
“Where did you get it done?” I asked, running fingers over the intricate cursive letters.
“Miller carved it for me.”
“Did you know he’d been in prison?” I asked.
“Yes, I think it’s common knowledge, to be honest. Man’s paid his dues, there’s some who won’t hire him because of it. I think that’s bloody daft.”
“What did he go to prison for?”
“Fighting, stealing cars, and driving drunk, I think. Rumour has it, people paid him to collect debts and not in the way you see on the TV.”
“Crikey. Anyway, I have a couple of gifts for you, too.”
I’d left a small bag on the seat of one of the chairs.
“It’s not much but…”
Dad waved my sentence away and opened the perfume. For a while he was silent, but then he smiled.
“She always wore this, from our wedding day to the day she died. She’d say, ‘I can be wearing the scruffiest clothes, no makeup, and my hair a mass of tangles, but I feel like a beautiful woman with a dab of perfume behind my ears.’”
I could imagine my mum saying something like that.
“I know it seems silly, but I like to spray it on her pillow. It helps me remember her,” he added.
He placed the perfume on the table and opened the jumper.
“Just what I needed, thank you,” he said with a laugh.
“I think we should have a glass of something bubbly,” I said, heading for the fridge.
A knock on the front door meant I pulled three glasses from the cupboard.
“Happy Christmas,” I heard Mrs. Hampton call out, as she walked down the hallway.
I smiled as she came into the kitchen and handed her a glass of bubbly. “Happy Christmas, Mrs. Hampton,” I said.
As she took a sip of her Prosecco, she waved her hand in my direction. “Call me Colette,” she said.
We clinked glasses and while Dad and Colette made their way into the living room, I continued to prepare our lunch. Between basting the turkey and preparing the vegetables, I sent Christian a text message to wish him a happy day, he didn’t reply.
I had tried to call him first thing but the call had gone to his voicemail. I knew Dad had done the same. We didn’t know where he was staying, other than it was with a friend. Christian had many friends, most of whom I didn’t know.
Colette spent most of the day keeping us entertained, enough for the sadness that bubbled within me to be kept under the surface, ensuring we had an enjoyable time. We ate, way too much, we drank a little too much, and when the olds dozed on the sofa after the Queen’s Speech, I decided to get some fresh air.
There were some walkers on the beach, trying to counteract the calories they’d eaten, I imagined. I wandered along the cliff until I came to the bench. I sat for a while and just watched the walkers below, and the strangers out on surfboards testing out their Christmas gifts, I thought. Why someone would want to dip their toes, let alone surf in December in Cornwall, was beyond me. I shivered at the thought of the water temperature.
I enjoyed the peace, the cold breeze that freshened my skin and blew the sadness from my mind. Part of me wanted to visit Hannah, the other part wanted to stay as far away as possible. I hadn’t thought much more about the conversation I’d had with Daniel, but I knew I ought to. I should make my mind up on what I wanted to do. There was also Patricia to consider.
Trey had been born in California; he’d come to England many times over his childhood, having a father in the military. It was why, he’d told me, he wanted to study in the UK. Patricia and Dad had been instrumental in the funeral arrangements for Trey and Hannah. I wondered how crass it would be if I offered to cremate him and then send his ashes back to her. Could I pretend he’d always wanted to go home?
The thought not only surprised, but also horrified me. Patricia had always been so wonderful to me, supportive, and the best mother-in-law I could have wished for.
I shook the thoughts from my mind and headed home. Maybe I shouldn’t spend too much time on my own over the festive period, or after a glass of bubbly and a glass of wine.
We finished the day with cold turkey sandwiches. Dad decided to walk Colette back to her house and I sat with a cup of tea. A half hour or so later, I remembered a conversation with Miller. I ran to the kitchen to retrieve my mobile. Sure enough, there were two missed calls and one text message.
Hey, just checking in. How has your day been so far? Miller
I wasn’t sure whether to call or text back. I decided a text might be better in case he was busy.
I’m sorry to miss your call, I guess I’m not used to keeping my phone near me. It’s been great, much better than I was expecting, to be honest. Mrs. Hampton joined us. I went for a walk after lunch, now I’m chilling on the sofa. Dad has walked Mrs. Hampton home, I think there might be a budding relationship going on there! Dani
I’d just placed the phone on the seat beside me when it rang.
“Hi, so you’ve had a good day?” Miller said. For a moment I let his low toned voice just wash over me.
“I have. I didn’t expect to. And thank you so much for the house name plaque. It was a wonderful surprise. I absolutely love it.”
“It was all your dad’s idea. I think it’s a perfect name for the barn. I was very impressed with his research,” Miller chuckled.
“He said he found
the wood on the beach, I think it’s just a wonderful idea. I’ve been drifting along for so long, now we both have a home. Or hopefully we both have a home.”
“I’m pretty confident you will. I wondered what you were planning to do tomorrow?”
“Nothing really, I guess. Why?”
“I’ll be at a loose end in the afternoon, maybe you’d like to go for a walk, or something?”
“At a loose end? So your invitation is just to fill in a few hours?” I teased, hoping that he could hear the smile in my voice.
“Yeah, something like that,” he retorted.
I chuckled. “I’d like that, thank you.”
“Great, I’ll call by mid-afternoon, if that’s okay. I can’t say an exact time, it depends on my dad.”
“I’ll be here.”
“See you then,” he said.
I replaced the phone on the sofa and found myself smiling at the thought of spending some more time with Miller. As I rested back, I closed my eyes.
Should I be happy about spending time with Miller?
How long should I grieve before I could move on?
I guessed, it wasn’t as simple as losing my loving husband. Did the fact that he cheated on me, that I hated him so much right then, justify spending time with another man?
What were we actually doing? Was it a date? Or were we just friends spending time together? Was I reading way too much into this friendship?
Those thoughts, and more, ran through my mind. I doubted I’d be able to Google the mourning period for someone in my situation. I took a deep breath in and let it out slowly. I had to stop overthinking it all.
My mobile vibrated beside me, disturbing me. I was certainly popular that day.
“Hello?” I said.
“Dani, hi. It’s Daniel.”
“Hi, how was your day?”
“Really good. We had a great service; you missed some cracking hymn singing. I then had a rather disgusting lunch, consisting of an indescribable meat, boiled to death cabbage, and something I think might have been mash at the old people’s home.”
“I think your day tops mine by miles,” I said with a laugh.
“Anyway, as it is a rather important Christian date on our calendar, and all that, I’m busy tomorrow as well but wondered if you’d have a few hours free the day after? I could do with some younger company and a pint or two.”
“Gosh, I seem to be the fall back, or fill in, go-to person lately,” I said, laughing again.
“I’m not following.”
“Your brother invited me out for a walk tomorrow because he was at a loose end, and you need younger company to get over all the old people, or doing God’s work, or whatever you call it.”
Daniel laughed. “Ah, yes, I guess us Copeland boys aren’t the best at asking a lovely lady on a date.”
“So you’re asking me on a date?”
“Daniella, I’d like to invite you to join me for a pint or two at the local public house the day after tomorrow, for an official date.”
I didn’t answer immediately, and wondered how he knew to call me Daniella. I didn’t recall telling him that was my full name. However, I guessed there was no harm in joining him at the pub.
“Thank you, Daniel, I’d be thrilled to join you.”
I wouldn’t think of it as a real date, I was sure he was just joking. He was a vicar; he didn’t have time to date, did he?
“Now I’m going to get my sloppy joggers on, eat some proper food, like sweets and ice cream, and catch up on all the crap Christmas movies I’ve missed today.”
“It was good to talk to you, see you in a couple of days,” I said.
The front door opened and although I was in the living room, off the hallway, I felt the dip in temperature as a cold blast of air blew through.
“I’m back,” Dad called out. “I’m making a cup of tea, do you want one?”
“No, thank you. If it’s okay with you, I’m going to get an early night. I think all that overeating has exhausted me.”
I followed him into the kitchen and gave him a hug. “Thank you for today. It hasn’t been as awful as I imagined it to be,” I said.
“I did wonder how you’d feel but I thought it was best not to keep asking, to keep reminding you.”
“I feel guilty that I didn’t go to see her, but I just can’t right now.”
“I can understand that. Go on up, get yourself some sleep. Maybe we’ll both take a walk up there tomorrow morning, or another day, whenever you’re ready.”
I hadn’t been back to Hannah’s grave since the day I found out about Trey, and although that was just a few short weeks ago, it seemed like months. Despite my earlier words, and the fact that I’d had an enjoyable day, a wave of sadness washed over me. What kind of a mother was I to ignore my child on what should have been her first Christmas, just because I hated her father?
A little voice popped up in my head—A hurt one, it said.
I was up early the next morning. I guessed the early night had the desired effect, as I felt very refreshed. I sat at the table and decided to write to Lincoln. I hadn’t replied to his last letter and I felt bad as if I’d neglected him of late.
Lincoln,
I hope that you had a wonderful Christmas Day and I want to thank you for your last letter. I’m still deeply hurt by Trey’s affair, although I do believe it now. I received a letter from a solicitor wanting to discuss her child receiving part of Trey’s estate. I did a little Googling, he’s entitled, but I think there could be lots of complications, because Trey wasn’t British, he was American.
Anyway, I’m not focussing on it for a while. I’ve decided to put it all to the back of my mind for a couple of days.
I want to tell you something interesting. I met a gentleman in the cemetery the other day; his name was Lincoln as well. How strange to have two gentlemen in the same village with the same name. He was a lovely and humorous, man. I’d love to meet up with him again. He said he lived in an old people’s home…
I paused writing. Daniel had spent Christmas Day in an old people’s home. I couldn’t imagine the village was large enough to support two. In fact, the more I thought about it, the more there seemed to be so many connections, and overlaps.
Daniel, our local vicar, spent Christmas Day in the local old folks’ home, I wonder if he might know that Lincoln.
I had hoped the man I met would have been you, but I guess not. Anyway, I made a decision to go to the cemetery on Thursday, I don’t want to ignore my child, and I’ll just have to get over the fact he’s with her. I had spoken to Daniel about exhuming him, but now my mind is a little clearer, I guess that’s a little extreme. A total overreaction I imagine. I think I shocked Daniel to hell and back!
I’m going to spend New Year’s Eve on the beach, I remember doing that as a child for so many years. We’d watch the fireworks exploding from all different directions and then the boats tooting their horns at midnight. I’m hoping it will remind me of better times, and give me a future to look forward to.
Dad had a wonderful plaque made for my new home. It was known as The Hayloft in the past, so I hope I can get the planning and it can return to being called that. The name is carved into a piece of driftwood, Dad felt we were both lost but now we have a home. I thought it was a wonderful idea. I feel like I have something to be excited about, and the guilt I feel is lessening each day, for that, I’m thankful.
I’m also thankful for you, Lincoln. I’m not sure what I would have done without having you read my ramblings and taking the time to reply.
Your friend, always.
Dani.
I read back through my words and started to remember certain things said by both Miller and Daniel. I began to think that one, or both, knew of my Lincoln. Daniel had been vague on the ‘Anna’ issue. Surely he’d know, or have access to records of, who was buried in the cemetery? Miller seemed shocked when I’d told him about the Lincoln I’d met. Like I’d thought before, what were the cha
nces of two Lincolns in the same small village?
I folded the letter and placed it in the envelope, I wasn’t sure how long that envelope was going to last. It had long since lost the ability to stick and we’d given up on using tape. Instead, I tucked the flap into the back of the envelope and pulled on my boots and jacket. I took a slow walk up the lane to the honesty box.
Another thought hit me. There wasn’t a defined time between letters. Did that mean Lincoln walked this lane frequently, daily even? How else would he know there was a letter waiting for him?
Only once had anyone seen me near that honesty box, and that was Mrs. Hampton. It was just a broken wooden box, nestled in a hedge, which most people would walk past without noticing.
“Been for a walk?” Dad said when I returned.
“Just posting a letter. You know those ones I get from Lincoln? I leave them in the honesty box up the lane.”
“I didn't know it was still there. Old Fred Samuels used to own that farm. He died a year ago, I think.”
“Who owns it now?”
“His son, he rents it out, though. He doesn’t even live in the UK, I don’t think. I’m sure someone said he’s emigrated to Australia, or it might have been America.”
“I’ve been thinking about this Lincoln person. I’m wondering if that’s not his real name. I met a man called Lincoln in the cemetery. How likely is it to have two men with the same name in the village?”
“It’s not the most common of names, I guess. Have you asked him?”
“I don’t want to, really. If he felt the need to use a fake name, I guess there’s a reason for that. It’s a shame though, because I’d love to know who he really is.”
“He puts a letter through our door, doesn’t he?”
“He does.”
“We could get one of those camera things,” Dad said.
“CCTV? You know, although I really want to know who he is, what if I’m disappointed? He said once that he’d known me as a child. I wonder if he was teacher at my old school.”
Letters to Lincoln Page 19