by Heidi Swain
‘I was wondering if you might have mentioned to him, who I went off with yesterday. I thought you might have told him about Jonathan.’
‘Did you?’ She nodded. ‘Well I had been thinking about it, but something came up.’
She didn’t say what.
‘To tell you the truth,’ she said, ‘I’m surprised you haven’t mentioned him to anyone yourself. Why haven’t you?’
I thought back to the Christmas switch-on and what Rose had told me about how Dolly had explained what had prompted me to cut my last visit short.
‘Well,’ I said, ‘I was going to, but Rose happened to mention that you’d told everyone that I’d had to rush back to work at the hotel after my last visit. You didn’t tell them that I’d gone back to the guy with the bad temper even though they knew I’d arrived in town as a result of a row with him.’
Dolly shifted in her seat.
‘You mean the guy who used to have a bad temper?’
‘Yes,’ I said, ‘yes, the guy who used to have a bad temper.’
Picking up on my incorrect tense had enabled Dolly to momentarily sidestep the point I was trying to make.
‘Did you think I’d made a mistake, Dolly?’ I asked, going for the direct approach. ‘In going back to Jonathan? Is that why you told everyone I’d had to go back to work at short notice?’
‘I confess, at the time, I was concerned,’ she admitted. ‘I thought it was only a matter of time before something happened again and you came back. I thought keeping quiet might save you some awkward explanations in the long run.’
She sounded embarrassed to tell me the truth.
‘Why didn’t you say any of this at the time?’
‘Because I was afraid that we might quarrel about it,’ she explained. ‘You had already cut your parents out of your life and I didn’t want us to end up like that too.’
I could understand why that would have held her back.
‘That said,’ she added, ‘I’m delighted to have been proved wrong and that everything has worked out.’
There was definitely no way I could tell her anything about the morning’s drama now.
‘However,’ she carried on, ‘I do think you need to tell Beamish that you aren’t heading to Abu Dhabi on your own. I know everyone is aware that you’re here to spend time with me before you go but I think it’s only fair that you explain the situation properly, to him at least.’
‘It’s a little late for that now, isn’t it?’ I shrugged. ‘And as we’re just friends, I can’t see that it matters.’
‘Surely a friend would know if another friend was about to be married?’
‘Are you suggesting that we aren’t friends then?’
I was more concerned about her opinion of my relationship with Beamish than I was about the fact that I was no longer poised for matrimony.
‘What I’m suggesting,’ she said firmly, ‘is that your friendship hasn’t been built on a particularly honest foundation, and I know I am mostly to blame for that and that it was a mistake. An error of judgement on my part. I also know that Beamish is very fond of you, Hattie. Far fonder than he should be given that you’re about to be married to someone else.’
I didn’t know what to say, but my heart sped up a little in response. I wasn’t ready to tell Dolly that my impending marriage was off thanks to Jonathan’s abusive outburst and recently revealed treachery. I was still coming to terms with it all myself.
‘Jonathan hasn’t proposed yet,’ I said instead.
‘Don’t be so flippant,’ Dolly snapped, sounding cross.
‘Sorry,’ I hastily apologised.
Dolly rarely got cross and I was taken aback to see that she was seriously concerned.
‘Has Beamish said something specific to you?’ I asked. ‘About me and him?’
I wondered if he had mentioned our near-kisses.
‘No,’ she said, ‘but then he doesn’t have to. There are just some things you pick up on and I can see it written all over his face. I hadn’t bargained on that.’
‘Hadn’t bargained on what?’
‘Never mind,’ she frowned. ‘But I know now that keeping quiet about Jonathan was a big mistake and you need to tread carefully, Hattie. The last thing that Beamish needs is a broken heart.’
‘I hardly think—’
‘That’s half the problem these days,’ she interrupted. ‘Folk rarely do.’
*
The advent service that afternoon was all about joy, but I was far from feeling jubilant as I watched the third candle being lit. All I could do now was hope that Jonathan would respect my request to leave me alone. My mind might have been made up that we should part, but I wasn’t ready to tell him yet because I wasn’t sure how he would react. My wrist was a very painful reminder of just how explosive his temper could be.
My thoughts strayed back to Mum’s email. She had said that the letter she sent back with Jonathan after he told them his therapist had said I shouldn’t see them for a while was probably overly emotional, but of course I’d never received it so I didn’t know.
However, our concern for your mental health was, and still is, of paramount importance and we hope the therapy Jonathan helped organise was supportive in helping you move on from the past . . .
I had never had any therapy and the last few lines of the email revealed that my parents had never had a bad word to say about Jonathan either. The moments they had been alone together were not spent with them berating him as he had led me to believe, but with him telling them that I wasn’t well, that I needed help, that it was best all round if they kept their distance.
Almost from the very moment I had confided in Jonathan about my affair with David and how it had fractured my relationship with my parents he had been cunningly crafting the tool to deliver the blow to split us apart for good. It had been his intention all along to set up an irrevocable rift so he could have me to himself and carve me into the shape he wanted. Clearly, he was the one who needed therapy, not me.
I was astounded by his behaviour and embarrassed that I had never seen through it. Thank goodness Beamish had sent that card and now I had the chance to set things right. However, the next few days stretched out in front of me and the demands of them were quite breath-taking – I needed to focus on composing a measured response to Jonathan, not break Beamish’s heart, and help my darling Dolly adapt to a thoroughly different life to the one she had been living for as long as she could remember. And of course, there was also the Wish List to complete.
Before leaving the cottage for church, I had sent a brief text to the number Mum had included at the bottom of her email, explaining some of this. I kept the tone light, mentioning Dolly’s retirement and how I wanted to talk to her and Dad face to face to properly untangle the wires which had been crossed. I promised we would see each other soon and that I would email as soon as I had a few more things settled in my head.
I was in for a tumultuous few days.
*
‘Isn’t this beautiful?’
I gave a little shudder as Beamish’s breath tickled the back of my neck.
‘Yes,’ I agreed, my voice barely more than a whisper. ‘Yes, it is.’
We were back in the church putting the finishing touches to the preparations and decorations for the school carol concert. It had been heavy going in school. The children’s excitement was almost at fever pitch and it was impossible to get any real work out of them. The teaching staff had succumbed to worksheets for most lessons. Festive-themed word searches for English and Christmas-based games in the ICT suite for maths, along with copies of Dolly’s old photographs for writing prompts. It was all very noisy and hectic and the perfect antidote to help me forget my troubles.
‘The candles along the window ledges are perfect,’ I told Beamish.
‘And high enough not to cause any trouble,’ he grinned.
The altar and pew ends had been embellished with lengths of ivy left over from the greenery auction on Saturda
y and the place was a haven of calm and tranquillity. Or at least it would be until the children arrived. I hoped the sacred space would bring out their quiet side, or perhaps encourage them to dial it down a bit.
‘By the way,’ I said, as the first few families began to stream in, keen to get seats at the front, ‘I have something to tell you. I didn’t get the chance earlier, what with school being so busy.’
Beamish looked at me expectantly.
‘Hattie,’ beckoned Dolly, ‘would you mind handing out the carol sheets? Rose has been slightly delayed.’
‘Tell me after,’ he smiled. ‘I’m sure whatever it is will keep.’
I nodded and went to help Dolly, thinking how lovely it was going to be to tell him that he didn’t have to worry about the fallout from sending that card anymore.
There wasn’t a spare seat in the pews and a few of us found ourselves on chairs right at the back. The choir sang their hearts out, enthusiastically bolstered by the voices of their parents, classmates and older and younger siblings. It was an idyllic rural scene, no doubt happening up and down the country and I was touched to be a part of it. I was half inclined to add it to the Wish List when Dolly and I got home. Of course, it would mean ticking it straight off again, but that wouldn’t make it any less fulfilling.
As we sang the familiar carols my mind drifted off. I looked around at the upturned faces of the happy families – parents, grandparents and little ones – all preparing to spend the holidays together at this special time of year and my voice caught in my throat.
Jonathan had gone to the trouble of manipulating my life to ensure that I would never have what the folk filling the pews before me did. He had been so determined to have me to himself that he had twisted and tortured my already fragile family connections until they tore in two and because I had trusted him, I had believed every lie he had fed me without question. I had a kept a lid on my emotions all day, but the atmosphere in the church was too stirring to ignore. My poor parents.
I felt tears began to gather and slipped out of the church, into the star-studded darkness and out of sight of the door. There was little comfort to be found in the cold crisp air and I let my tears flow unchecked, my hand covering my mouth to stifle noisy sobs.
‘Hattie?’
I sniffed, but didn’t answer. I didn’t want anyone to find me like this.
‘Hattie,’ came the voice again, closer this time. ‘It’s me, Beamish.’
‘I know it’s you,’ I snivelled, furiously wiping my face with the back of my hand.
‘What are you doing out here? Are you all right?’
I shook my head and he pulled me into his arms. He didn’t say anything, he just held me, safe from harm. Eventually I stopped crying and my body relaxed into his. I slipped my arms around him and squeezed tight. In that moment, wrapped in his all-encompassing embrace, it felt like the safest place in the world. I lifted my head from his chest.
‘Sorry,’ I swallowed, looking up at him and then at the tear-stained patch on his coat.
Not that he knew it, but I was apologising for so much more than crying all over him. He loosened his grip but didn’t let go.
‘Is this anything to do with what you said you wanted to tell me?’ he asked.
I nodded.
‘And there was me thinking it was going to be good news,’ he tutted, now rooting about in his pocket one-handed for a packet of tissues.
‘It is,’ I said, taking the pack and breaking the contact between us. ‘It is good news, just a bit overwhelming, that’s all.’
‘Go on,’ he encouraged.
I blew my nose and took a deep breath.
‘I’ve had an email from my mum,’ I told him. ‘She and Dad want to see me.’
Beamish laughed, the sound cutting through the chill air.
‘But that’s amazing, Hattie!’ he grinned. ‘Why on earth would you be crying over that? I thought you’d be over the moon.’
‘I am,’ I nodded. ‘I am really. I suppose I’m just a bit nervous about it all.’
I wished with all my heart that I had told my new friend about the details surrounding my fresh start in the sun. How I wasn’t some strong and independent young woman jetting off to begin a new life on her own, but that in truth, I was going to be flying off on the coat-tails of a man I now realised I couldn’t trust.
I had grabbed the easy option Jonathan had laid temptingly out before me and now I had a whole heap of mess to untangle. Dolly had been right to be concerned when I went back to him and I had been ridiculously naïve to accept his miracle personality change and version of events with regards to my parents.
I felt more tears beginning to build and wiped my eyes again.
‘I’m sure that’s only natural,’ Beamish told me. ‘If I were in your situation, I’d no doubt be feeling nervous too and I’m sure your parents are, so you’re all in the same boat really.’
‘I guess,’ I agreed.
‘But at least you aren’t going to end up like me, Hattie,’ he carried on. ‘You know the guilt and regret I carry.’
I nodded.
‘So, have you decided when you’re going to meet?’
‘Not yet,’ I sniffed. ‘I haven’t had a chance to email them back yet, but I’ve sent a text. I had been thinking about emailing from school but it’s so busy.’
‘Then you must make the time,’ he said, reaching for my free hand as light began to pour out of the church and everyone streamed out, ‘and you know, if you’ve changed your mind about moving, it’s not too late. There’d be no harm in you not going if you aren’t one hundred per cent sure that it’s the right thing to do. I happen to know that there are plenty of folk around here who would be more than happy if you decided that Wynbridge was your fresh start, rather than Abu Dhabi.’
Chapter 21
When Dolly and I sat down to breakfast that Wednesday morning you could have heard a pin drop. I wanted to ask if she was all right, but it was obvious that she wasn’t.
‘It isn’t too late to change your mind, you know,’ I said instead, echoing Beamish’s words to me in the churchyard as I reached across the table for her hand.
She looked back at me and smiled and I noticed how tired she looked. Perhaps retirement, proper retirement was the right idea after all.
‘I could say the same to you,’ she said, squeezing my fingers. ‘I think out of the two of us, you might end up being the one more likely to have a change of heart about their future . . .’
Her words stopped short and when I followed her gaze, I realised that the sleeve of my jumper wasn’t quite covering my wrist.
‘Hattie,’ Dolly gasped, her face contorted with shock.
I tried to pull my hand free, but she held tight. For a woman of her age and slight build she certainly had a firm grip. She pulled my sleeve further back and the dark bruises, outlining Jonathan’s fingers almost perfectly, were revealed in all their ugly glory.
‘Oh no,’ she cried.
‘Don’t . . .’ I swallowed.
‘Is this why you came back?’ she demanded. ‘Is this why you came back so early on Sunday?
I nodded. There was no point denying it. I would have looked a fool trying to make out those marks were anything other than the result of Jonathan’s temper.
‘He said he was tired from travelling,’ I told her, then seeing the colour flood her face, very quickly added, ‘but of course I’m not going to accept that as justification for what he did.’
‘I should think not,’ she said, sounding livid, ‘and to think I had been seduced into believing that he really had changed.’
‘You weren’t the only one,’ I told her. ‘And up until recently he had.’
That said, I couldn’t now deny that there had been a gradual build-up of comments that, had I picked up on them, would have been proof enough that not all was well in mine and Jonathan’s very exclusive club. It had started soon after I was made redundant and I guessed that was the moment he thought he co
uld tighten his stranglehold on me and make me even more reliant on him.
‘Or so I thought,’ I frowned.
I had assumed he was offering comfort and refuge but knowing how he had masterfully negotiated the estrangement from my parents I could see now that he had skilfully preyed on my vulnerability and bent me even further to his will.
‘Whatever happened at that hotel?’ Dolly asked. ‘Please tell me this was a one-off. He hasn’t been violent before, has he?’
‘No,’ I said reassuringly. ‘Never. And up until the weekend he hadn’t been verbally abusive since that other trouble either.’
‘So, what kicked this off?’ she said, nodding at my arm.
‘It was brewing long before the weekend,’ I told her. ‘Looking back over the last few months, I can see now that he was becoming possessive again and then on Sunday he woke in a foul mood and accused me of flirting with one of the waiters at breakfast. It was almost as if he was looking for something to pick a fight about. I’m certain he wanted something to kick off.’
Dolly shook her head. She was taking it all in while I was letting it all go. I felt pounds lighter for telling her and decided not to stop there. While I was sharing, I might as well tell her everything.
‘But it was mention of my parents that really put the cat among the pigeons,’ I explained. ‘I asked what he thought I should do if they got in touch and . . . well,’ I said, nodding at my arm, ‘he went ballistic.’
‘Does he know about the email then?’
‘No,’ I told her. ‘Having read it, I decided that it would be best not to say anything. What Mum wrote was shocking and I dread to think how he would have reacted if he’d known about it.’
‘Go on.’
I glanced up at the clock.
‘I don’t want to make us late, Dolly,’ I told her, ‘especially today.’
I might have been feeling heaps better for sharing, but I wasn’t so selfish that I wanted to ruin her day.
‘It doesn’t matter,’ she said. ‘And besides, we won’t be late if you hurry up and tell me.’
I could do better than that. At school I had printed Mum’s email off for safekeeping. I watched as Dolly scanned the pages, her eyes growing wider with every word.