Snowflakes over Moon Cottage: the perfect cosy winter romance for 2018 (Animal Ark Revisited Book 4)

by Lucy Daniels

  ‘What the hell are you doing here?’ Despite her anger, she spoke in a furious whisper. The last thing she wanted was for her neighbours to witness this meeting. She had built a wonderful life without him. She would not let him waltz back and destroy it. ‘How dare you?’ She shut her mouth with a snap and stood there, glaring into his ludicrously handsome face.

  ‘Susan, I’m sorry. I tried to write, but …’

  He seemed dismayed by her ferocity. She almost expected him to turn tail and run. He took a step back, but then stopped.

  The rain intensified. Huge droplets hissed onto the paving slabs and gurgled in the guttering. Michael’s carefully styled brown hair flattened. Rivulets of water began to run down his tanned face.

  ‘What do you want?’

  ‘Just to talk. I’ve … been having a hard time of it lately.’ Susan clenched her teeth. Her eyes raked over his smart waxed jacket and pressed trousers. A shiny Mercedes stood on the road in front of her battered Twingo.

  What would he know of hard times? Had he spent the past four years caring for a baby, and then a toddler? Jack was a wonderful child, but that didn’t mean there’d been no sleepless nights. The panicked trips to the doctor, the tantrums, the ache and worry when they were apart too long. Michael had made it clear he wasn’t interested in any of that.

  Well, she wasn’t interested in hearing his life story. How could he turn up here snivelling after all these years?

  ‘My father died. A month ago.’ He stopped then dropped his gaze to the floor. For a fleeting moment, Susan saw pain in his expression, but she pushed her sympathy aside.

  In her mind’s eye, she could see Michael’s father. Like Michael himself, Angus Chalk had sported well-chiselled cheekbones and a decisive chin. He’d never shown her an ounce of kindness. Whenever Susan had veered into his eyeline, his expression had been stony. She had never been sure what crime she had committed, but she was certain that in Angus’s eyes, she’d been beneath the notice of his son and heir.

  ‘Sorry to hear that,’ she lied. She kept her voice low. She would not give him the pleasure of knowing how much he’d hurt her.

  He lifted his eyes again and tried a smile. His gaze took on a beseeching look that didn’t sit well with his aquiline features. ‘I’ve been wanting to reach out to you for a while,’ he said.

  Susan stiffened. Did he think he was doing her a favour? ‘You needn’t have bothered,’ she muttered. Her voice felt thick. ‘We’re fine without you.’ She continued to stare.

  He dropped his eyes first, but he raised them again with a sideways glance at the house. Susan felt herself getting hot. She was acutely aware of the shabby paint on her front door and the bulging window frame with its blistered white wood.

  ‘I …’ His eyes finally met hers. ‘I was hoping …’ He paused again. Susan waited. Whatever he wanted to say, she wasn’t going to help. ‘I’d like to get to know my son …’ he said ‘… Jack. I know I don’t have any right …’

  ‘Correct!’ Susan snapped out the word before he could go any further. ‘You’ve no right to anything.’ She stopped. Her mouth was trembling, but she squared her shoulders. ‘I’d like you to go away now and leave us alone.’

  He took another step back. His eyes raked her face as if searching for even the slightest sign of pity. Susan stood firm. The rain had slowed now and he was beginning to have a defeated look, standing there, soaked to the skin. ‘Did you get my letter?’ he asked.

  Susan pursed her lips. She slid her hands into her pockets. The letter was still there, screwed up and unopened. ‘Yes.’ She swallowed. ‘I threw it away,’ she lied.

  He sighed. Susan felt her annoyance surge again. He had always sighed, whenever she was ‘being unreasonable’ as he put it. That put-on air of saintly patience sickened her. ‘I thought you might,’ he said. ‘I brought you a copy.’ He held it out. When she failed to take it, he moved closer as if to try to thrust it into her hand.

  Susan stepped back. ‘I don’t need it,’ she said.

  He held up his hands, and then put the copy of the letter down on the doormat. ‘Please will you read it?’ he asked. ‘Please?’ he said again.

  ‘Fine.’ Susan shivered. Water was running down her neck. ‘Now will you go? We don’t need anything from you.’ The rage had left her. She was beginning to feel weak.

  For a moment, she thought he was going to say something more, but with a final glance, he turned on his heel, pulled a key from his pocket and strode along the pavement to his car. Susan stood very still as he climbed in, then drove away. The car turned the corner and slid out of sight. Susan pulled out her own key. Her hand was shaking as she opened the front door.

  She picked up the copy of the letter and crumpled it up, shoving it into the pocket beside the unopened first copy. It was freezing inside the house so the first thing she did was nudge the thermostat up. She should go and change out of her wet things, but instead, she slumped against the wall.

  How could he come here? She’d not expected to see him again. He hadn’t changed, she thought. He was still the handsome, privileged, oblivious man he always was. There had been a time she had loved that about him. Everything seemed easy when she was with him.

  Despite her disquiet, a memory of better times rose out of the fog of regret. They had made love on a summer’s evening in the sand dunes on a remote beach. She closed her eyes: felt his hands on her skin. Her trembling reaction. Her head fell back against the wall.

  Reality returned. She remembered other times too. His rejection and the coldness of his eyes. Her fear for the child growing inside her. Bile rose in her throat. She glanced down again at the letter with its neat handwriting. She would read it, she thought. Then she would know what he had to say. There was nothing that would make her want him in her life again.

  She shifted over until she was against the radiator. She was shivering, though her face was hot. Her fingers fumbled with the damp paper and she nearly dropped it, but then she ripped at it with a ferocity that almost tore the letter inside. Dragging the pages out, her eyes devoured the fusty sentences. How Michael it was. Dry and practical: devoid of emotion.

  I would like to take up my legal rights as Jack’s father. I am aware that as his legal guardian, and the only person on his birth certificate, you, Susan Collins, are the only person who can grant me this right. I very much hope that you will allow me this contact, and that I can start to take the role I should have played since he was born.

  It felt like one of his legal documents. The only personal touch was his signature: tidy blue writing on the bottom of the page. Could he not have made more effort?

  She screwed the paper up and threw it on the hall table.

  Thank goodness Jack was still with Miranda and hadn’t been here to witness this. She might not have been able to stop Michael from seeing him. And if Jack had seen a man claiming to be his father, what then?

  She wandered through into the kitchen and put the kettle on, standing there while the hissing sound filled the silence.

  Jack was the most important thing in her life. She wouldn’t let anything hurt him. And knowing that his father was a spoiled, selfish, cold man who’d abandoned him before he was even born could only hurt him.

  But now, there was a sinking feeling settling in her stomach. The kettle finished boiling and clicked off, and Susan didn’t move.

  What would Jack have thought if he’d been here? And what would he think years from now, if he found that his father had wanted a relationship and she, Susan, had denied him that?

  She thought about her own dad, and how close they had been, especially when they first moved to Welford and Miranda was still travelling a lot for work. She thought about Michael’s dad – as horrid as he’d been to Susan, the two of them had been close. Michael must be feeling guilty. Maybe he’d only just understood what he’d taken from Jack by leaving them the way he did. ‘We don’t need him,’ Susan told the empty kitchen.

  Chapter Ten

&nb
sp; She was still there an hour and a half later when the doorbell rang. A shiver ran down her spine as she stood up from where she had slumped down against the kitchen cupboards. Surely he hadn’t come back? She put her hands on the table and dragged herself upright. It seemed a long way to the front door. Her heart was thudding as she pulled the door open, but there, under the lamp, hair damp from the rain, stood Mandy Hope. Her collie Sky was beside her. Behind Mandy, Miranda was opening the car door and helping Jack out.

  ‘Hi! How did the date go?’ Mandy’s voice was bright. Her grin fled as she looked into Susan’s eyes. ‘Is everything all right?’ she asked.

  And now Miranda was approaching, holding Jack’s hand. ‘Oh dear,’ she said, looking directly at Susan. ‘Does Mummy have a headache?’ she said, her voice bright. Susan nodded and swallowed hard. Her mum could always tell when there was something up. Miranda bent to speak to Jack. ‘Well Jack, it looks like Nana is going to put you to bed tonight. Mandy will help Mummy with her headache, won’t you dear?’

  She turned her well-meaning gaze on Mandy, who looked a little surprised, but nodded.

  ‘Now go give Mummy a good night hug.’ Miranda spoke to Jack again.

  Susan crouched down as Jack let go of Miranda’s hand. He rushed forward, then stopped and moved carefully to her, snuggling in, his arms tight. Susan buried her face in his small shoulder. He was so precious. She didn’t want to let go. She breathed in deeply, dropped a kiss onto his neck, then loosened her arms and looked directly at him. How big his brown eyes were. She managed a smile. ‘Good night, sweetie,’ she told him. ‘Nana will take you up now, okay?’

  ‘Love you, Mummy. Get well soon.’ His face was solemn. She wanted to hug him again, but she let Miranda take his hand and lead him across the hall. Together they trailed upstairs. Jack turned halfway up to wave and blow a kiss. ‘Nighty night, Mummy,’ he called.

  ‘Nighty night.’ She watched until he was out of sight.

  Once he had disappeared, the empty feeling returned. Susan felt Mandy’s hand on her back, urging her gently towards the kitchen. ‘Can I make you a cup of tea?’ Mandy asked. She sat Susan down again, then reached out a warm hand to check her fingers. ‘You’re freezing cold,’ she said, frowning. She turned and disappeared into the living room, returning with a plaid blanket, which she draped round Susan’s shoulders.

  The hollow feeling persisted as Mandy set to, boiling the kettle, opening and closing cupboards as she searched for mugs and teabags. Sky seemed to know something was wrong. She sat very close to Susan, leaning her warm body against Susan’s leg. How comforting it was. As if understanding, Sky reached round and laid her head on Susan’s lap. Her coat was so soft. Susan ran her fingers down the collie’s neck. Sky was so trusting. She had been so frightened when Mandy first got her. For a moment, Susan was reminded of Marmalade. He would have been there for her, just as Sky was now. She buried her fingers in Sky’s coat and bent over to kiss her head.

  The kettle came to the boil. With a click, Mandy switched it off, poured the tea and added milk. A moment later, she placed two steaming mugs on the table and sat down. ‘You look like you’ve seen a ghost,’ she said. ‘Do you want to talk about it?’

  Susan reached out her hands and wrapped them round the mug. ‘I kind of have,’ she said. ‘Seen a ghost, I mean.’ She let out a long sigh.

  Mandy looked puzzled. ‘Was it something with Douglas?’ she asked. ‘Jimmy said you seemed to be having a good time … not that he was gossiping …’ she added with the tiniest shake of her head.

  Susan looked down at her mug. The tea was steaming. She shook her head very slightly. ‘It wasn’t Douglas,’ she said. She paused for a moment, closing her eyes, then opening them again. What could she say? She’d never told Mandy the whole story of what happened with Michael. She’d never told anyone the whole story, really, except Miranda, who had been by her side throughout, of course.

  Mandy sat on the far side of the table, leaning back as if she felt at home. Speaking quietly, she began to tell Susan about her Hope Meadows charges. Now and then, she sent Susan a reassuring smile. She seemed quite willing to wait until Susan was ready to talk.

  Footsteps sounded on the stairs. A moment later, Miranda slipped into the room. ‘That’s him in bed,’ she said, softly.

  Mandy lifted her mug and drank the remainder of her tea. ‘Would you like me to go?’ she offered. ‘If you’d rather be alone with your mum …’

  Susan swallowed. It wasn’t easy to talk, but suddenly, urgently, she wanted Mandy to stay and hear. ‘Don’t go,’ she said. ‘I want your help.’ She looked up at her mother. ‘Michael came by,’ she said.

  Miranda’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Here?’ she said. She sounded outraged, as Susan had known she would.

  ‘Yes,’ she replied. She was glad Mandy was still there. Much as she despised Michael, her mum’s reaction was troubling.

  Mandy frowned. ‘… Jack’s dad, Michael?’

  Under the table, Sky licked Susan’s fingers. Susan drew her shoulders back, looked straight at Mandy and nodded. She wanted to tell her everything. ‘Michael and I were together for a year,’ she explained. ‘I was working as a nursery nurse in York. He was a law student.’ She stopped for a moment. She could picture the flat they’d shared. It had been small, but cosy. Susan had supported Michael in his studies: had never once questioned his love. She pressed her lips together. She was not going to cry. She drew in breath and steadied herself.

  ‘I got pregnant with Jack,’ she said. ‘It wasn’t planned, but the timing wasn’t awful. Michael’s course was almost done.’ The words were coming easier now. ‘He’d be finished before Jack was due. He had a job lined up with his dad’s firm.’ She managed for the first time to find a smile, though there was a bitter edge to it. ‘I was so happy,’ she said. ‘I thought he would be too.’ She paused, stroked Sky’s ear, looked back up.

  ‘He was so angry when I told him,’ she said. The pain was still raw. She couldn’t keep the bewilderment out of her voice. ‘He was just starting out, he said. He didn’t have time for a child. It wasn’t in the plan. He wanted me to have an abortion.’ Her voice quivered. She would never judge any other woman, but she couldn’t have aborted Jack. Not in a million years. From the moment she’d known he was growing inside her, she had loved him. ‘I said it was me and the baby or nothing.’ She stopped and swallowed hard. ‘So he picked nothing. I moved back to Walton. I thought he’d change his mind,’ she blinked hard, ‘but then his father …’ her voice wobbled as she spat the word, ‘… sent an official letter from the firm. It said Michael didn’t want to be on the birth certificate. He renounced any claim on Jack, and he didn’t want me to contact him ever again.’

  How could a memory be so painful? The image of Michael on the doorstep came back to her with a jolt. Angus was dead. But his legacy lingered. How could Michael have been so pathetic, to hide behind his father’s law firm when dumping the woman he’d supposedly loved, and their unborn child? She sat back, overwhelmed again with that sense of unreality. ‘I never saw him again. Not till today.’ She stopped.

  ‘So what did on earth did he want?’ Miranda’s voice pulled her back to the moment. Her mum still looked scandalised. She held up a finger. ‘Before you answer that, I think we all need a glass of wine.’ She pulled open the fridge.

  ‘There’s no wine there, Mum,’ Susan said, finding a smile. Much as she loved her mother, there were times when she wished she was less theatrical.

  Miranda emerged holding a bottle of white wine. ‘Nonsense, darling, I slipped one in there earlier in case you wanted to celebrate your date.’ She closed the fridge triumphantly and poured them each a glass.

  ‘So what did he want?’ Mandy asked Susan, eyebrows raised.

  Susan sighed. ‘He wanted me to read this.’ She picked up the letter and handed it to Mandy who took it and read it, concentrating hard. Miranda leaned over to read too.

  ‘He wants access to Jack?’ Mandy looked across t
he table at Susan a few minutes later.

  Miranda seemed speechless.

  ‘So he says,’ Susan admitted. ‘What do you think of the letter itself?’ she asked. It wasn’t as cold as the one she’d received from Michael’s father four years ago, but for someone wanting to get to know his child, it was worded very stiffly.

  Mandy looked thoughtful. ‘Well it’s very … polite,’ she said, glancing down, then back up at Susan. ‘He sounds just like a lawyer.’ She sent Susan a smile, and Susan couldn’t help smiling back.

  Miranda, who had been rereading the letter, dropped it on the table with a disgusted scoff. ‘Awful man.’

  Susan drew in a long breath, then let it out slowly. ‘I don’t know what to do,’ she said. ‘He’s been so horrible. I don’t want him back in my life. But the only reason he’s not seen Jack is because he didn’t want to. If he’d asked when Jack was born, I’d have said yes, even if we were broken up.’ She shook her head, reached out a hand, picked up the letter, glanced through it again then put it back down. ‘Should I stand in his way now? If he really wants to get to know Jack?’ She picked up her wine and took a sip. She didn’t really want it. She needed to see clearly.

  ‘Well, what’s changed?’ There was still antagonism in Miranda’s voice. ‘Why’s he come to find you now?’

  ‘He said his dad had died.’ Susan looked across the table at her mum’s angry face, then at Mandy’s calm expression. ‘I’ve always thought his dad put pressure on him. He never liked me, even before Jack was in the picture.’

  Miranda gave a short laugh. ‘It’s not much of an argument for Michael’s strength of character,’ she pointed out, ‘if he can’t say no to his father when his own child is at stake.’

  Susan sighed. ‘I agree,’ she said. ‘But it’s not about Michael, or me, not really. It’s about Jack and what’s best for him.’

  ‘That’s true,’ Mandy said, her voice thoughtful, ‘but it has to be your decision. You’re the only one who knows Jack and Michael. It’s quite possible to grow up normal without access to your biological parents.’ She wiggled her eyebrows. ‘Just look at me. But … for Jimmy, it’s important to have contact with the children. For Abi and Max too. Even when things go wrong, they know he cares. It comes down to whether you think Michael will be good for Jack.’