Once Upon A Winter (22 page)

Fairy-lights had been strung up all around the large village hall, and a disco ball hung high in the centre, shooting out sparks over the assembled company. The room already seemed packed when Nell teetered in from the cloakroom, propped up by Daniel and closely followed by two over-excited, skittish children.

‘Look! There’s Rose and Ivy!’ pointed Freya. And she and Joshua were off.

‘You OK?’ Daniel spoke close to Nell’s ear.

‘It’s very busy.’ Nell frowned
.

‘Well, it gets more popular each time,
according to Emma. After eight years, it’s become a village tradition. I think people call in professional babysitters for their younger kids, just so they can come. The committee will have to think about an overspill marquee next year, at this rate. Apart from the summer fete, it’s the only time most of the local families get together to celebrate.’

‘When I used to come up to Harreloe for Christmas,’ said Nell, ‘I always went home before New Year, so I’ve never been to one of these.’

Daniel hesitated. ‘I’ve only been to a couple myself, actually . . . Lauren preferred us to spend New Year in Chester with her mates. We’d usually stay over.’

‘Oh . . . I’m sorry. I -’

‘No.’ He gave Nell’s fingers a gentle stroke. ‘It’s not you who has to be sorry. Now - shall we try to get a drink?’

Daniel began steering her through the crowd, but with all the interruptions, it took forever to reach the bar, which looked very different from the last time Nell had seen it, covered with cake stand
s at the last fete she had been to, years ago.

‘You always were hot on being Mr Popularity, weren’t you?’ said Nell wryly, finally nursing a glass of white wine. ‘Everyone has to stop you to say hi, don’t they? Or tell you how their chilblains are doing.’

Daniel smiled sheepishly. ‘Everyone’s saying hello to you, too. Daughter of the highly revered John Mason.’

‘Are we the village A-
listers then?’

Daniel leaned closer, his after
shave mellow and musky. ‘The latest hot celebrity couple? I should think so. Everyone’s talking about us, you know.’

‘Emma said we’re bound to be trending after tonight.’

‘Well, of course.’ Daniel grinned. ‘Do you realise how lucky I feel right now? I came to this party with the most gorgeous lady in the entire village. Oh, you can act bashful all you like, but you know very well how you look in that dress. You can’t wear something like that and say it was an accident.’

‘OK, OK,’ Nell conceded, ‘it looked better when I tried it on than I thought
it would.’

‘“Better
”?’ Daniel almost choked on his drink. ‘Nell, you look stunning. Every man in this room wants to be
me
. Except for the Rev, I think he’d be too embarrassed. Will you please dance with me later, if your dance card isn’t too full?’

‘Stop it. You’re making me blush too much. My face is going to merge into the dress. Shall we try to find Emma? And I want to make sure the kids aren’t up to any mischief.’

‘They’ll probably be playing party games in the orangery.’

‘I’ve always thought this has to be the
poshest village hall ever.’

Daniel arched an eyebrow. ‘Have you been to many?’

‘Um . . . No. But you know what I mean. It’s beautiful and old, but no one’s torn it down and put up some pre-fab in its place. Bits have just been added on over the years, but tastefully.’

‘I heard the orangery was built by Calista
Molyneux’s father. Not literally, of course, but he financed it. The Grahame family were patrons and benefactors in Harreloe for most of the last century, from what I understand. It seems a shame their “dynasty” has died out. Although I guess it would have been the Molyneux dynasty, if Calista had had kids.’

‘When you put it like that, it does seem sad,’ Nell reflected. ‘I never really heard about them before, though. Or maybe I did, and I’ve forgotten. I used to be more interested in the history of Bryn
Heulog. Anything else bored me. But the house I grew up in . . . the people who trod those floorboards before me . . . The original family who owned it - the Lamberts - must have been the complete opposite to the Grahames, by the sound of it.’

‘Oh? Were they not very nice?’

‘Apparently not. Complete tyrants, I managed to deduce, from stuff Nana Gwen said she’d heard, though she wasn’t actually born in Harreloe. This is back in Victorian and Edwardian times. Well, maybe up through until the 1930s. The house had a succession of different owners after the Second World War, until my grandparents bought it, and then passed it on to my parents . . .’ Nell’s voice trailed away, as the memories of childhood shuddered through her, bittersweet as always. She glanced at the dainty silver watch on her wrist and sighed. ‘I hope Nana Gwen is OK.’

‘You said she was going to blackmail you if you didn’t come tonight.’

‘Well, an empty threat, but she was adamant that I ought to come. Said I didn’t get to many parties. But I hate leaving her on her own on New Year’s Eve. It feels selfish.’

‘None of that talk, Nell Jones,’ said a crisp voice close by. ‘Nana would be livid if she thought you weren’t enjoying yourself because of her. You know she just wanted you to help her to bed at her normal time and not make a fuss. I assume you got her to bed. But now you’re fussing - she’d hate that.’

Nell turned to her sister. The picture of sophistication in a long, black maxi dress, her wavy hair piled up loosely on her head. Dangly, black onyx earrings elongated her face and accentuated the slant of her cheekbones.

‘
Em, you look gorgeous!’

‘
Pah.’ Emma waved her hand dismissively. ‘I’m blending in too much. Half the room’s wearing black. As for you . . . I never realised how magical that dress could be with the right person wearing it. I feel a bit like your fairy godmother.’

‘I look all right,’ shrugged Nell. ‘And thank you,
Em.’

‘Can you tell her?’ Daniel pleaded with Emma. ‘She looks amazing, but she won’t accept it.’

‘You look amazing, Nell,’ said her sister briskly. ‘Deal with it.’

‘OK,’ Nell muttered. ‘Anyway, I was about to check on the kids -’

‘Oh, I’ve just come from the orangery,’ said Emma. ‘They’re fine. Playing musical statues, even though Ivy thinks she’s far too cool and mature to play little kid games, she’s only joining in because Joshua begged her to.’

‘Yeah. Right.’ Daniel smiled, then stared distractedly over Emma’s shoulder. ‘I don’t believe it. I swear I just caught sight of Calista . . .’

‘Calista Molyneux?
Here
?’ Emma grunted. ‘You’re seeing things. She’s never been to a New Year party. Not her scene at all. Unless she’s going to do some palm-reading or something.’

Daniel was shaking his head. ‘She wasn’t dressed up. I mean, not in her costume, or however you’d classify that purple outfit.’

‘It can’t be her then,’ insisted Emma. ‘Look, there’s Gareth.’ She waved at him. ‘Over here!’

Gareth eased his way past a laughing, raucous group of people Nell didn’t know, and came to stand beside his wife. He seemed bothered by something.

‘You look a bit green around the gills,’ said Emma. ‘Have you eaten something dodgy, like last year?’

‘No,’ he said, ‘it’s just . . .’ His troubled gaze sought Nell’s. ‘Calista Molyneux is here.’

‘So I
was
right,’ said Daniel. ‘I thought I’d just seen her.’

‘Oh, it was definitely her, although she looks a bit different dressed normally,’ said Gareth. ‘It’s just . . . she’s not alone.’

‘Ooo.’ Emma perked up even more at the prospect of some juicy gossip. ‘She has a date, has she?’

‘I wouldn’t go that far.’ Gareth looked at Nell again. ‘I’m sorry, Nell, but . . .’

His voice seemed to tune out until she couldn’t hear it any more. But she couldn’t seem to hear anything, not even the music. Nell just about managed to keep hold of her wine glass as it quivered in her hand.

Through a gap in the crowd she could now see Calista. Tall and stylish with her artistic bob and a flamboyant, bottle-green trouser suit. But next to her . . . Next to her was a younger man in smart jeans, a dark blazer and a crisp, claret-coloured shirt.

‘What’s Silas playing at, showing his face around here?’ Emma demanded bitterly, as if from a great distance away.

‘Are you sure it’s him?’ said Daniel, as Nell tried to tune back in and refocus her thoughts.

‘I think I know what my brother-in-law looks like.’ Gareth scowled. ‘The bastard doesn’t change.’

‘Daniel’ - Nell clutched his hand for support - ‘it’s him. He
is
here. Can we just leave?’

‘Leave?’ Daniel stared down at her indignantly. ‘Leave the party? Just because your soon-to-be
ex
-husband has decided to crash it?’

‘Daniel,’ Emma warned, ‘you’ve got a weird look on your face . . . I wouldn’t get inv
olved . . .’

‘I’m already involved,
’ Daniel reminded her, without flinching. ‘And I’m not prepared to just stand by and let Nell be chased out of here by him.’ He jabbed his thumb in Silas’s direction. ‘She’s got more right to be here than he has.’

‘Daniel,
please
. Just leave it . . .’ Nell tugged at his sleeve, but he pulled away, and began striding purposefully through the crowd.

‘I shouldn’t have come.’ Silas glanced around the heaving room. ‘This was a mistake, Calista.’

‘No, it wasn’t.’ Calista shook her head with obstinate assurance. ‘I was never going to come on my own, was I? I needed a chaperone.’ Her smile was wide and Machiavellian. ‘Don’t look so sullen. Or scared. I thought you were supposed to be brave. It’s a party, Silas, not a battlefield.’

He hesitated, frowning at her. This was a different kind of fear. There was no sense of justification. ‘I don’t feel comfortable. People are staring at us.’

‘Of course they are. Most of them have never seen me looking like this. Every village needs its batty recluse who only gets wheeled out a couple of times a year. And that’s me. Needs must.’ Calista’s smile widened. ‘
Ahh, and there
she
is - the little flower no one ever wanted to pick. Until you changed all that . . .’

Agitated, Silas followed
Calista’s gaze through a narrow gap in the crowd. It was Ellena’s prerogative to be at this gathering tonight; not his. But Calista had used every wile she possessed to persuade him to accompany her here. Yet her razor-sharp wit or sly charm wasn’t why he had agreed.

Silas dis
approved of Calista’s self-imposed ‘confinement’. He understood it, but that wasn’t the same. She was mourning her late husband, her sister, her parents, even the children she had never had. Silas was all she had left. The only living connection to the past. If he could help her in any way, it was his duty. His obligation.

‘My, my,’ Calista was murmuring, ‘I’m still having trouble imagining the dull, dowdy creature you claim she used to be . . .’

Silas frowned as he stared. Was that Ellena? It wasn’t until she turned to look at him that he could confirm it. But it wasn’t any incarnation of his current wife that he had ever met. Even looking surprised and upset, as she no doubt would be to see him there, she stood out somehow among all the other vampish women in the hall. In a startlingly red dress, which drew out every facet of gold in the long, loose spirals of her hair, the naturalness of her blazed out to engulf him. Silas barely acknowledged that the man whose hand she had been holding was now striding across the room in his direction.

‘More like a prize-winning rose, wouldn’t you say, Silas? Calista remarked; and he could feel her gaze on him, appraising, calculating.

Again Silas muttered, ‘I shouldn’t have come.’ As he turned to leave, though, someone grabbed his arm.

They released it almost as swiftly, but Silas had been stalled. He looked directly into the face of the person who had stopped him. Eye to eye.

The man was as tall as Silas. A fleeting scrutiny led Silas to glean what he could from the stranger.

Integrity. Anger. Fear. But not fear of
me
, realised Silas. Fear of loss. Of failure.

‘Hello, Calista,’ said the stranger. Polite. His anger simmering beneath the surface. ‘Are you going to introduce me to your friend?’

‘Hello, Daniel.’ Calista was still smiling. Still playing this strange game she seemed to want to play tonight. ‘Do I really need to introduce Silas Jones to you? You seem to know who he is already . . .’

‘You’re Daniel Guthrie,’ said Silas, giving the stranger a name.

‘What are you doing here?’ Daniel demanded, all civility gone. ‘I mean, here - tonight? Didn’t you realise Nell would be coming? She’s got more right -’

‘Yes,’ said Silas. ‘I know that. I said as much to Calista.’

But Calista entwined her arm around Silas’s. ‘You have an old family connection to me, Silas. And to the village. You have every right to be here, too. He’s not my
date
, Daniel, if that’s what you were thinking!’ She laughed, the notion hilarious.

Silas tensed, more at her
first statement. Then, abruptly, in a blur of red, Ellena had joined Daniel, standing close beside him, scrabbling for his hand. Up close, she was even more disconcerting.

‘Please, Daniel,’ she begged, ‘can we just forget it?’

‘Hello, cariad.’ Calista let go of Silas’s arm in order to lunge forward and hug Ellena. ‘You look very lovely tonight. Silas just said so. I hope you’ll come over again soon, but bring the children this time. Are they here?’ Calista glanced around, scanning the room.

‘Er, they’re playing party games.’
Plainly confused, Ellena extricated herself and backed away.

‘I’ve been rooting into my family tree,’ said Calista gaily, ‘and I’ve found a link to Silas here. He’s a long-lost distant cousin or something. So we’re all practically family.’

Ellena’s obviously mounting distress fuelled Silas’s next move. He took a step away from the group. ‘I shouldn’t be here. Not like this. Not today.’ Before anyone could stop him this time, Silas turned on his heel and began to weave through the loud, jarring, partying company, towards the exit.

Someone did stop him, though, as they pumped his hand genially and exclaimed, ‘
Si!
Hello! I didn’t realise you were going to be here.’

Silas blinked into the warm, friendly countenance of the man who had hired him to work on the cottage. ‘
Huw,’ he said vaguely. ‘Er . . . Hello. I, er -’

‘
Huw, this isn’t who you think he is,’ came a voice from behind, and Silas felt his stomach crumple, as if he were caught in a trap. ‘This man isn’t Simon Marner, like he claims to be,’ said Daniel. ‘His name’s Silas Jones. Nell’s husband. Soon to be
ex
-husband. The one who walked out on her and the kids all those years ago. I’ve wanted to tell you, Huw, from the minute Nell told me what he was up to, but she’d asked me not to. And not just me, her family, too. After the gall he’s got turning up here like this, though, I just can’t keep it to myself any more.’

‘Oh.’
Huw’s face fell. He now looked perplexed. ‘I . . . er . . .’

‘I’ll explain everything,’ Silas assured him. ‘But not here. Not now.’ He swung round to Daniel. ‘For
Ellena’s sake,’ he said, his voice dropping, ‘please, just leave it. Let me walk out of here before we say or do anything that might upset her even more.’

But Daniel only seemed to grow more incensed at this. He prodded Silas in the chest. ‘Where do you get off on calling her
Ellena, huh?’

‘I always have,’ said Silas simply. ‘It’s her name.’

‘She likes to be called Nell,’ said Daniel. ‘
Nell
.’

‘She’s never once asked me to call her that.’ Silas took a step backwards. ‘I’m going to leave now. Please don’t try to stop me.’

Ellena had followed Daniel again. Now she was a flame of red, tugging at his arm. ‘Daniel, forget it. This isn’t worth it. It isn’t what I want. The kids might come along at any minute - I don’t want them seeing this. Think about who you are. You’ve got a reputation. Don’t ruin it over me, I’m not worth it.’

Daniel regarded her for a moment or two, then turned back to Silas, pointing accusingly. ‘You see? You see what she’s like? Do you realise, she even hates being complimented. And this is your fault.’ Daniel snorted, and shook his head, as if he found
some thought in his head eminently laughable. ‘You’re
no
kind of hero. Look at what you made her -’

But suddenly,
Ellena had whipped round to face Daniel. Her back to Silas, as if somehow shielding him from the other man’s acrimony. ‘Daniel, that wasn’t Silas’s fault. It’s who I am. It’s who I was when I was growing up, and then later when no one seemed to notice I existed . . . It’s -’ But just as suddenly she stopped, almost with a shudder, like an engine stalling.

Daniel was staring down at her, and the fine features of his face seemed to wither with comprehension. ‘It’s . . . my fault,’ he said, almost stammering over the words. ‘It’s
my
fault . . . Isn’t it? Because of who
I
was. What I did to you . . .’

She was shaking her head ineffectually. ‘No . . . No -’

‘It is,’ stated Daniel, scowling now. And he pivoted, and pushed his way through the gawping crowd. Past Emma, and Calista, and Gareth, all staring at Ellena, as she turned slowly to confront Silas.

He hardly realised
he was holding his breath. Every sense seemed to be concentrated on the woman in front of him.

‘Please go now, Silas. Please just leave me alone.’

‘Ellena . . . I didn’t mean . . . This wasn’t my intention -’

‘That’s your catchphrase at the moment. But whatever your “intention”, you’re only making things worse for me.’

‘I want to help. I want to fix this -’

‘You can fix it by staying out of my life as much as possible. A new year’s about to start. By the end of it, I want to be happy again. I want to be free.’

‘Ellena -’

‘Nell.’ Her eyes, incandescent with
anger, silenced him with a single look. ‘Like Daniel said - I want to be called
Nell
. That girl you used to call Ellena . . . She’s gone, Silas. She left a long time ago.’

And the woman turned away, spine straight, head erect; her hair tumbling, soft and glossy, down her back, and the red dress brushing around slender,
graceful legs. Silas stared after his wife, as she pulled her sister alongside her, heading towards the far end of the hall.

Calista came into focus again, stepping forwards and slipping her arm through the
crook of his elbow. ‘I’m sorry, Silas,’ she murmured. ‘You were right. We shouldn’t have come.’

But as she led him towards the exit, she seemed too pleased with herself to be genuinely apologetic.