Once Upon A Winter (12 page)

‘Nell Mason,’ Lauren echoed, and began to shake her head. Then she stopped. ‘Do you mean one of the vet’s daughters? Emma Hayes’s sister?’

‘She’s Nell Jones now. Technically. There’s no husband on the scene, though.’

‘Nell wasn’t the pretty one, right? Emma had the looks, and loads of boys fancying
her. Have you seen much of her - or Gareth - lately?’

‘Emma’s one of the school governors.’

‘Is she? That’s nice.’ Lauren looked a little fazed by the direction their conversation was taking.

‘You see, I’ve probably mentioned that before,’ said Daniel grimly, ‘but whenever I used to talk about the school, you switched off.’

‘Yes, well, whenever
I
talked “shop”, quite literally, you switched off, too.’

Daniel conceded that point. ‘OK. Fine. But do you remember, at St Cecil’s, playing a joke on Nell? Not just you, I was involved, too, and the gang you used to hang around with.’

Lauren took a step back, regarding Daniel as if he’d accused her of murder, or something equally heinous. ‘What are you on about? Why are we even talking about her? Why now? I don’t -’

‘Did we play a joke on her, Lauren? It’s a simple question.’

‘OK, keep your hair on. Bloody hell, Daniel, I don’t see what this has to do with anything. I can’t remember if we did or didn’t, we used to tease loads of people. It was all meaningless. I -’

‘So you don’t recall if I asked her out to the pictures, and then never showed up? You and your gang were there instead of me, laughing at her. Because apparently she
was
insecure about her looks, and no one had ever asked her out before. Emma was the popular one, not Nell. You were right about that.’

‘Danny, I . . .’ Lauren opened and closed her mouth. ‘I can’t say I’m proud of myself - if I did do that. And I’m sure you aren’t, either. It’s all very hazy, and such a long time ago. Even if I did recall something about it, I don’t know how it’s relevant to anything that’s going on now.’

‘Nell and I are . . .’ Daniel hesitated. He didn’t know what they were. ‘Well, she’s come back to Harreloe from London,’ he launched in as directly as he felt he could. ‘She’s living up at Bryn Heulog with her two children. As I said, there’s no husband around any more.’

Lauren made an ‘O’ shape with her lips.

‘I wanted you to hear it from me first,’ Daniel added.

‘I see where this is going.’ She was nodding slowly. ‘Very convenient. Very cosy.
You didn’t waste much time - did you?’

‘Oh, sod it, Lauren. You can talk! The divorce was your idea. For all I know, in spite of all your denials, you might have someone waiting in the wings yourself.’

She looked down - rather shiftily, Daniel thought - at the rug, and didn’t respond.

‘You’re right,’ he said, his voice guttural now, ‘I’m not proud of myself for the way I used to act at St Cecil’s. The problem is, I couldn’t remember this particular business, with Nell. Obviously, you can.’

Lauren frowned as she met his gaze again. ‘At least she seems to have forgiven you. So you don’t need to dwell on it.’

‘No.’ His gaze scanned Lauren’s face, paler now than it had looked earlier. ‘I think I ought to go. Just keep me posted on all the house stuff. We’ll take it as it goes. I know I’ve still got some things up in the loft; I can put them in storage, if need be.’

‘You sound so businesslike,’ said Lauren, softly, wistfully.

‘I think it’s for the best.’

‘Do you want to take your pizza with you, I can put it in the box again?’

Before he could reply, she had retreated to the kitchen.

He put on his shoes and his coat. Lauren sashayed down the hall, hips swinging, reminding him somehow of a feral cat. ‘Here you go, Danny.’

‘Thanks,’ he muttered, and took the pizza box from her.

She leaned over, lightly kissing his cheek, wafting her familiar scent towards him and cramming his head with a thousand memories.

‘I’ll be in touch soon,’ she said brightly, as if she’d swallowed a happy pill. ‘Give my regards to Nell,’ she added. ‘I hope there’s no hard feelings on her part. We were all just kids, after all . . .’

‘Bye, Lauren,’ said Daniel, and for the sake of so many things, his self-respect among them, he didn’t look back.

The house was at the end of a short, narrow lane fringed by evergreens, so that all year round there was a sense of timelessness about the place. Unless there was snow, or shimmering summer heat, it was sometimes hard to know what season you were stepping into.

The lane led nowhere, except to this imposing residence. It was set back from the village Main Street, and surrounded by a high hedge, concealed to both villagers and visitors-to-the-village alike, who even sometimes overlooked the start of the lane
itself, as if it wasn’t really quite there.

Silas had always liked this place for that very reason.

Two weathered stone gateposts were the only evidence that once there had been a gate opening on to the shingled driveway, but it had been hauled away for scrap metal during the last war and never replaced.

The nondescript car rolled slowly between them and crunched to a halt in front of the large, rectangular, grey-stone house, ivy clinging sinuously to its walls.

Warily, Silas climbed out and glanced behind him before approaching the double, oak front doors. He tugged on the bell-pull and eventually heard a voice call out from inside.

‘I’m coming, I’m coming! I was expecting you much later.’ One of the double doors creaked open. ‘
Oh -
’

‘Hello,’ said Silas, and the trace of a smile curved his lips.

‘You’re not my fruit and veg delivery!’ the woman exclaimed. A tall lady, very slightly stooped, like the long, slender trunk of a poplar tree bending a fraction in the wind. A far less reserved smile lit her face. ‘
Silas
,’ she whispered, ‘I can’t believe it . . . Is it - is it really
you
?’

‘I’m real enough . . . Can I come inside?’

‘Well, of course you can!’ She virtually dragged him into her arms, clutching him in a warm, platonic, thankful embrace that felt as if it might go on forever. ‘As if I wouldn’t ever have time for my favourite brother-in-law! My only brother-in-law, in fact.’

Gently, he disentangled himself, and closed the door behind him, sealing himself away from the risk of prying eyes.

‘It’s been so long, Silas . . . How many years now? I’m decrepit compared to how I was then, and you’ve hardly changed. That’s not exactly fair, is it?’ she chided, drinking him in pointedly from head to foot.

‘I’m sorry. . .’ The appropriate words were hard to come by. ‘You look
well, though, Calista.’

‘Ha!’ S
he grunted and gripped his hand, and led him through the house to the very rear, and the large, light-filled conservatory that had always been her favourite haunt. Suffering from what seemed an even worse infestation of potted palms than the last time Silas had set foot here.

‘Thirty,’ he said, answering her question. ‘Thirty years since Lydia passed away and I was last in this house.’

‘Yes.’ She turned to him, a heaviness resting upon her slumped shoulders now. ‘But I’ve seen you in the meantime. You visited the village a few times, ten or so years ago, maybe less . . . Not that you dropped in on me. But I saw you. One time at the churchyard . . . you left a rose for Lydia . . . You were alone, of course. That would have been hard to explain to your new bride, wouldn’t it?
“Darling, this is the grave of my third wife. She died of leukaemia when you were only five.”
’

Silas shook his head. ‘You always had an irreverent way with words, Calista. And I still feel as though you can see right through me.’

‘Not right through you, Silas,’ she retorted, with mock severity. ‘How could I see through a man with as many layers as you? Impossible! What I see is what you are, what you’ve been, and what you’re yet to be.’

‘Transparen
t, then?’

‘No. You are the most complex creation I have ever known.’ She squeezed his hand with ardour. ‘And I’ve always loved you. You made my sister’s last years the happiest she ever knew. How could I hate you for that?’

‘You could think ill of me for having left so soon after her death.’

‘Why?’ Cali
sta gestured for him to sit, indicating a wicker chair, with green cushions bleached in patches by the sun. ‘You told me why you were leaving. And I already knew you could never stay. You had work to do. Kittens like my sister to rescue from treetops.’

Silas sank into the chair, weary from the journey. There was a time, not so long ago, when he had never known what it was to be fatigued.

‘So, what am I yet to be, Calista?’ he asked her, earnest now.

He studied her from where he sat. A fifty-one-year-old woman who had first been introduced to him as a teenager, his girlfriend’s younger sister. She had seen him for so much more than just Lydia’s suitor the instant she shook his hand. Yet Lydia - an unadorned, introverted girl, who would not be in remission long - had never been as content. Calista dearly loved her, would do anything for her. She had kept Silas’s secret as well as anyone could hide anything from their own family.

‘You know I was married,’ she informed him, clearly not prepared to answer his question yet. ‘Edward Molyneux. A good man. He passed away, though. We were never blessed with children, but we were happy here, in this house you never made a claim on.’

‘You know I didn’t marry Lydia for her money, in spite of what others thought. This was your family home. I wouldn’t have taken that away. Besides, Lydia and I never lived here. We had our cottage in Betws-y-Coed. The sale of that was enough for me.’

‘Well,
I
was aware you weren’t after the family silver. You never take more than you need to live on, I’m sure.’

‘I rely on the generosity of others, but I earn it.’

‘Oh, you work for your bread and butter, Silas. People are generous because you deserve it.’

‘I have other work, too.’ He stared down at his hands. ‘It’s given me some comfort these last few years, to do what I’m best at. To use my talent, as any normal person might.’

‘There are many who would dispute what you’re best at.’

‘If you say so . . .’

‘Still modest.’ She smiled. ‘And still travelling light?’

‘I have my memories, Calista. I never forget.’

‘Is that a blessing?’ she said softly, not expecting an answer, Silas realised. ‘I know what you are going to be, Silas, and I don’t need any “psychic powers”, amazingly enough. Your next role is to be a father again, only this time he isn’t a baby, he’s growing up fast. I know because I’ve met him. Your son.’

Silas hesitated. ‘You’ve seen Joshua?’

‘I should have known who he was . . . He’s so like you. But I was in my crazy guise, pretending to be mad, silly Calista. Which suits me - I love a little drama in my life now and again. But I didn’t recognise Joshua until I held his hand.’

‘Did he seem happy?’

‘Oh, yes. He’s beautiful, Silas, just like you. I’m only sorry my reaction took him by surprise . . . and everyone else. His mother wasn’t very pleased with me, I’m afraid. She isn’t what I expected . . .’

‘In what way?’

‘Not your type, I would have thought. Not plain; and not shy, the way she bit my head off.’

‘People sometimes change.’ It was all Silas could offer. He had only seen his wife from a distance in recent years, and his main focus had always been on the boy.

‘So, Silas’ - all mockery was suddenly gone - ‘what are your plans exactly? Are you back to lay claim to your family?’  

He smiled nervously.
‘Your turn of phrase always amuses me, Calista.’

‘Yes, I know, I’m very poetic. Or archaic. Whichever you prefer. But I want to know what your aim is, Silas. You can’t just flit in and out of people’s lives, whatever your destiny. I know you always mean well, but that’s not enough.’

‘I’m only here for the boy, Calista. He needs to know the truth.’

‘The Truth According to Silas?’

‘The reason he is the way he is. The fact that he will one day have to carry on where I leave off. And he can’t do that without instruction. Training.’

‘Oh? Like an apprenticeship in how to be
You
?’ She was trying to provoke him. She always had, even as a young woman.

‘Joshua will be his own creation,’ stated Silas. ‘I just need to make sure he sets out on the right path.’

‘And his mother can’t do that?’

‘Of course she can’t. She doesn’t understand. She knows nothing about me.’

‘She must know a little, considering she lived with you as your wife. But then again, Lydia was blissfully ignorant, wasn’t she . . . ?’

‘
Ellena will know everything before I’m done here in Harreloe. She’ll realise that I’m only doing what’s necessary to safeguard Joshua’s future.’

Calista nodded thoughtfully. ‘Yes, very admirable.’ She roc
ked to her feet. ‘Well, as you’ve got such a monumental task ahead, would you like to stay for lunch?’

‘That’s kind of you,’ said Silas, inwardly more grateful than he sounded. ‘I had an early start this morning. I missed breakfast.’

She tutted him, like a mother might fuss over her child. ‘You’ll have to make up for it now then.’

He shifted uneasily on the green cushion
s. ‘There’s something else I need to ask you . . .’

‘Yes, I know. You’re going to ask if you can stay here. If I’ll put you up, because of course I have plenty of room. I could open a B&B, if I wanted.’

‘It’s only until I can straighten out my plan of action. A few days, maybe a week. It’s not time to declare my presence yet.’

‘Seemingly, I’m not the only one with a singular turn of phrase,
Silas. So - you’d make me your accomplice, would you?’

‘I’m not committing any crime, Calista.’

‘No, not yet.’ She was pensive a moment, while she swept back a strand of greying hair from her brow. ‘I’ll make us some tea, anyway, while you bring your things in from the car and then park it in the garage; there’s a key under the plant pot beside it.’

He bowed his head. ‘Thank you.’ 

Abruptly, she stooped to embrace him again. ‘I really am very happy to see you,’ she muttered, her voice choked up, ‘whatever sort of chaos you’re about to stir up.’

As she pulled away, he clung to her hand, anxious
for her to understand. ‘Calista, please, I’m honestly not here to make trouble.’

‘Maybe not.’ She sighed grittily a
s she drifted towards the doors leading back into the house. ‘But with the best of intentions, Silas, you will.’