by Cathy Lake
Clare’s gaze remained fixed on Sam’s face; he could feel her warmth at his side. She hadn’t removed her arm from his shoulders or stiffened when he’d confessed. Hope flickered inside him. Did she understand? Or did she think he was a terrible person? Surely she would have flinched by now, shown signs of shock or disapproval. He wanted to curl up and place his head on her lap, to find comfort in her arms, to lose himself in her.
‘It was life-changing for you too.’ Clare leant her head against his and he turned so his face was buried in her soft hair. She smelt so good and he wished he could stay that way forever. ‘Did you . . . never get involved with anyone?’ she asked after a while.
‘No.’ He raised his head. ‘I had a few very brief encounters . . . flings, I guess you could call them. But I never let anyone get close. I had excuses, see. First of all, I told myself I had to ensure that Alyssa had a good life, that I needed to earn a good wage and get her out of that tiny flat. My guilt over resenting her because of our mum dying drove me forwards. Then, after she’d been hurt, I vowed to get her the best medical care I could and to always be there for her. I wanted to support her and be a good brother and, I suppose, thinking about it now, I was scared to fall in love.’
‘Why?’
‘My dad suffered so much after losing my mum that I never, ever wanted to feel that level of pain. Why risk being broken by loving someone then losing them? Plus, I felt so guilty about Alyssa’s accident that I didn’t feel I deserved to love or be loved.’
‘Sam . . .’
He met her eyes and saw that they were filled with tears.
‘Don’t cry.’ He stroked her cheek, as a tear escaped her eye and trickled down it, a liquid diamond on her beautiful skin. ‘I don’t want to make you cry.’
‘I feel so bad for you. You never allowed yourself to fall in love. You’ve missed out on so much of life.’
He shook his head. ‘I’ve had a good life in many ways. I was loved by my parents. I love my sister. I have a great dog. I love my job.’
Clare smiled. ‘That’s all very positive.’
‘Yes, and I love living in the village. I could never have moved here if I hadn’t been driven to work so hard and been earning enough to save like I did.’
‘True.’
‘And . . . I never would have got to meet you.’
Tears flowed from her eyes now, running in rivulets down her cheeks. He took her face in his hands, cupping her cheeks gently.
‘You don’t hate me?’ he asked.
‘I could never hate you, Sam. Everything you’ve told me, I understand.’
‘Alyssa lost the baby in the accident.’
‘I thought as much.’
‘Now she’s pregnant again.’
Clare smiled. ‘That’s wonderful news.’
‘I don’t know. I mean, all the risks . . . they’re still there.’
‘It is a risk, yes, and all pregnancies come with risks, but there’s a good chance the baby won’t inherit the condition. Plus, she has you and her partner and she’s strong.’
‘She’s one of the strongest people I know.’
‘You’re strong too.’ She covered his hands with hers and his heart contracted.
She understood. She hadn’t judged him as he’d feared. He had told her his darkest secrets and she hadn’t abandoned him.
‘You’re still here,’ he said aloud, needing to hear the words.
‘Yes.’
He held her gaze for a few seconds, then he shifted closer to her. When their lips met, she exhaled against him. Her breath was sweet from the wine, her lips soft and she tasted delicious. Like coming home.
He slid his arms around her and held her tight, finally feeling the tension that had gripped his heart, body and mind for so long begin to slip away, as he found comfort from another human being. They fitted together in ways he had never expected to find with anyone.
She was perfect and he knew that he wanted to be with her.
Clare draped the chenille throw from the back of the sofa over Sam and gazed down at him. They had talked for hours, drunk more wine, and kissed – such beautiful gentle kisses that lit her up inside – then they had snuggled on the sofa as the fire glowed in the log burner and Scout snored on the rug. They had all drifted off to sleep and Clare had jumped awake when her phone pinged with a message. She’d checked it to see that Kyle was off to bed, telling her to be careful, and that Elaine was home safe and fast asleep, so Clare didn’t need to rush back. It made her smile, her son’s easy acceptance that his mum was with a man. The mum who had been married to his father until very recently. She was very lucky to have such a wonderful, non-judgemental son.
And now, it seemed, something new was happening in her life. She was . . . what exactly? Dating? No, it wasn’t that; too early. Involved? They were definitely involved in something. Involved in each other.
She could stay, could snuggle back down with Sam and spend the night there, but it wouldn’t be right. Not yet. Not now. Sam was dealing with a lot and he needed time to process everything. And, as much as she liked him, Clare needed some time too, to think about what was happening and work out what she was feeling.
Pulling a sheet of paper from the pile under the coffee table, she got a pen from a pot on one of the bookshelves, then wrote a quick note, thanking Sam for the evening and telling him she’d speak to him in the morning. She set it on the table, propped up against the empty wine bottle so he would see it when he woke.
Before leaving, she blew him a kiss, not wanting to wake him by touching him, rubbed Scout’s head, then put on her coat and gloves and headed out into the night.
Chapter 24
December had arrived, bringing frosty mornings and wintery showers that temporarily covered Little Bramble in a dusting of snow as fine as pure white icing sugar. It had been a week since Clare had gone to Sam’s and they’d talked and held each other. They had spoken and met for coffee, lunch and dog walks a few times since then, and had arranged to meet this evening, the first weekend of December, for the turning on of the Christmas lights. She knew that she liked him a lot, that she felt good around him and that she cared about him, but she was also aware that she still had a way to go in terms of working out her own issues and that she didn’t want to rush anything. Everything from here on in would be on terms that she was comfortable with and there would be no sacrificing herself anymore, not for anyone, however lovely they were.
Clare was getting ready after dinner, wrapping up in layers, aware that the temperature would be minus something this evening, when there was a knock at her bedroom door.
‘Hold on a moment.’ She went to open it.
‘Clare . . . ?’
‘Yes, Mum?’
‘Do you think that these jeans go with this jumper?’
Clare looked at her mum’s indigo skinny jeans and yellow turtleneck jumper.
‘Anything goes with jeans. And you look lovely. That jumper is such a happy colour.’
Her mum smiled. ‘Really?’
‘Yes, but the vicar won’t see that because you’ll have a coat on over it.’
Elaine patted her hair that she’d styled in soft beach waves – had she borrowed Kyle’s straighteners? – and laughed. ‘He’ll see it afterwards.’
‘He will?’
‘Yes, darling. I’m going back to the vicarage for a drink later on.’
‘OK. Lovely.’
Clare nodded, hoping her smile would cover up her uncertainty. Why was it that Kyle could accept Clare having a man in her life, but Clare was struggling with Elaine having one? She was worried that her mum would get hurt and didn’t want to see her newfound happiness marred by a relationship going wrong, but it was more than that and she knew it.
She was feeling a bit put out for her dad. It wasn’t that she’d expected her mum to stay single for the rest of her days, of course not. She wanted to be happy for her, in fact she was, but it would take some time to adjust
to the vicar being a part of their family, even though he’d always been a family friend.
‘Right, I’ll go and find my new boots then we can leave in about ten minutes. Does that sound OK?’
‘Brilliant. I’ll be down soon.’
When she’d pulled on a thick jumper and socks, Clare stuffed her feet into her soft black leather boots and wound a scarf around her neck. Her gloves were downstairs in her coat pockets. She turned off the bedroom light, then crossed the hallway and knocked on Kyle’s door.
‘You ready?’ she called.
‘He’s already gone, Clare,’ her mum said from the bottom of the stairs. ‘He just left, said he’s meeting someone there.’
‘Kyle?’
‘Yes, dear, that’s your son’s name.’
‘Who’s he meeting?’
Elaine shrugged. ‘No idea, but he had a very nice aftershave on.’
Clare rubbed her eyes, then padded down the stairs. First her mum, then her, now her son. Was romance in the air in Little Bramble this season?
‘Come on, let’s get going.’ Elaine clipped Goliath’s lead to his collar, then opened the door. ‘We don’t want to be late!’
They made their way to the village green, the evening air icy on the exposed skin of their faces, the frost crunching beneath their boots. Even Goliath was wearing his fleecy coat and he seemed proud to have it on, his head held high as they walked. Clare wondered again at how attached she had become to the dog, at how often he made her smile and gave her comfort, at what an important part of her life he was now.
As they neared the green, she scanned the crowds, searching for people she knew. Jenny was there with Martin and the girls, so she waved at them and Jenny waved back.
‘I’ll just go and say hello to Jen, Mum.’
‘OK, love. I’ll take Goliath to see Iolo.’
Clare walked over to Jenny, looking back to see her mum and the vicar embracing openly in front of everyone; they clearly had no intention of hiding their relationship.
‘Hey, Jen, how’re you feeling?’
It was automatic now, checking to see how Jenny felt.
‘I’m all right, actually.’ Jenny smiled from beneath a bright red bobble hat, her eyes bright in the streetlights, her breath puffing out in front of her. ‘Today, for the first time in weeks, the nausea has eased. It’s probably because I haven’t stopped stuffing my face, but I’ll do whatever I can to banish that awful queasiness.’ She gestured behind her at Martin and the twins. ‘The girls have been baking all day . . . mince pies, cakes, pastries, so I’ve sampled everything.’ She wrapped her arms around her belly and Clare smiled; Jenny was definitely filling out.
‘How are things with you and our gorgeous vet?’ Jenny winked twice and nudged Clare, making her blush.
Clare hadn’t seen Jenny for a few days, but they’d talked on the phone and she had filled her in about Sam. Not what he’d confided, of course, but the fact that they’d talked for hours, kissed and cuddled.
‘Oh, you know . . . all right. He’ll be here this evening, so I’m looking forward to seeing him.’ Clare couldn’t help herself then, she looked around, her eyes scanning for Sam.
‘I’m so pleased. I’m crossing everything that this works out for you.’ Jenny held up her hands to prove her point.
‘What are you wishing for now?’ Martin slid an arm around Jenny’s waist.
‘For Clare to have a Christmas romance.’
‘Stop it, Jen.’ Clare shook her head, but Martin laughed. ‘I see. Well, Mr Wilson hasn’t had a relationship in the three years he’s lived here, as far as I know, so I’m crossing everything for you too.’
Clare laughed, her cheeks burning in spite of the cold.
‘Talking of vets . . .’ Jenny pointed behind Clare, so she turned and there he was.
Tall. Broad-shouldered. His handsome face smiling at her from under a grey beanie. Clare turned back to Jenny, but she mouthed Go get him, so Clare nodded.
‘See you later.’ She blew kisses at Jenny and Martin then went to Sam’s side.
‘Hello, beautiful.’ He leant forwards and kissed her cheek, and his scent washed over her, sandalwood and citrus with darker notes of cracked black pepper. Delicious.
‘Hi, Sam.’ Shyness stole over Clare, making her feel like a self-conscious teenager on a first date. This gorgeous man liked her; had kissed her and told her his secrets. She felt as if she should pinch herself to check she wasn’t dreaming.
‘Would you like a drink?’ He pointed at the stall at the end of the grass closest to The Red.
‘Yes, please.’
He took her hand and they walked over to the stall.
‘Where’s Scout?’ she asked, realising that the dog was absent.
‘She rolled in something on our walk today, so she had to have a bath and it always wears her out. I asked if she wanted to come but she preferred to stretch out on the sofa.’
‘Oh, love her!’ Clare giggled. ‘Baths can be incredibly relaxing.’
‘Mulled wine or cider?’ he asked.
‘Wine, please.’
He nodded, then paid for two mugs and handed her one. The pub landlord provided a stall with mulled drinks every year for the turning on of the lights and provided eco-friendly glass mugs which had to be returned to the stall when drinks were finished.
‘I guess we know it’s really Christmas then.’ He clinked his mug against hers.
‘We do.’ She sipped her wine, savouring the berry notes enriched with lemon, orange and spices. ‘This is scrummy.’
‘I don’t know why I don’t make more mulled wine,’ he said. ‘I really like it, but it seems strange to think of drinking it anytime other than Christmas.’
‘I know what you mean. Jason wasn’t really a fan though so I never –’
Clare winced. She’d mentioned her ex-husband and wasn’t sure if that was OK.
Sam smiled. ‘It is OK to speak about Jason, you know. You did have a whole life before we met.’
She nodded. ‘It’s just a bit strange not to be with him, and it’s taking me a while to get used to it, I suppose. I was saying that he didn’t like mulled wine, so I didn’t bother making it just for me.’
‘Well, now you can have as much as you like.’ He clinked his mug against hers again. ‘I love it.’
Clare hugged herself inwardly. There was so much to learn about Sam, so much she didn’t yet know, and she was excited to get to know him better. It was like starting her life over again, but from a better vantage point; this time she was older, wiser and (hopefully) stronger.
‘Good evening!’ The loud voice, sent out around the area by an amplifier in the boot of a car, caused all heads to turn to the Norwegian Spruce where Iolo Ifans was standing with a microphone. ‘Thank you all for coming to the special turning on of Little Bramble’s Christmas lights.’
There were a few whistles and whoops and Sam chuckled at Clare’s side, then he stepped closer and slid his arm around her waist. A jolt of excitement shot through her.
‘Can we have a countdown, please?’ Iolo asked. ‘From ten? Get ready . . . go!’
As the villagers counted down from ten to one, the tiny hairs on Clare’s arms stood on end beneath her layers of clothing. She’d attended this annual event so many times and she was engulfed in waves of nostalgia, picturing herself as a small girl holding her dad’s hand, as a teenager stealing sips of his mulled cider, as an adult one Christmas when she’d brought Kyle to visit. There was such an air of magic about this event, the combination of the freezing air, the frosty ground, the gathering of the villagers, the spiced cider and wine and the knowledge that Christmas was just weeks away. And this year, there would also be the show. Anticipation bubbled in her belly, and when the countdown ended and the village green was suddenly illuminated by thousands of colourful fairy lights, the huge tree glowing in the darkness, she gasped like a child on Christmas morning.
‘It’s so beautiful,’ she said.
Sam was waiting for Clare to return from the drinks stall. Even though it was extremely cold, he felt warm inside. He’d come to the annual switching on of the lights every year that he’d been in the village and enjoyed the event, found watching Alyssa’s joy in it uplifting. But this year was different; it was special, because he was with Clare. His feelings for her had deepened since he’d told her about his past, his fears and his overwhelming guilt, as if he’d needed to offload everything in order to move on with his life. It made sense, though, and was why so many people went to see counsellors and therapists. Sam had held it all in for years, but now, with each day that passed, he felt the weight lifting and hoped that one day soon, he would shake it off altogether.
There was still something bothering him, though: Alyssa. He hadn’t seen her since the evening of her audition and although he had tried phoning and texting her, she had only replied once with a brief I’m fine. I just need some time. Sam had spoken to Clare about it, asked for her advice, and she’d told him that Alyssa probably did need some time to clear her head. She had been through so much: losing a child, being injured in a horrific accident and having to adjust to a new way of life. Now she had a new partner, a stepchild and a baby on the way. Be gentle and kind towards her, Clare had said to him, and he knew she was right. So, he was going against the grain, taking a step back and letting Alyssa get on with her life without trying to intervene. If she needed him, he would be there; if not, he would still be there whenever she wanted to see him. It was incredibly difficult, but he knew he had to do something to try to heal the rift between them. Not all siblings were close, a lot barely had any contact, but he and Alyssa had been close for most of her thirty-four years. He couldn’t deny that he missed her, but mainly, he hoped that she was happy.
‘Here you are.’ Clare handed him a fresh mug of mulled wine.
‘Thank you.’
‘My pleasure.’ She smiled up at him, her eyes shadowed by the bobble hat that was pulled down over her eyebrows.