Chapter 13
13
‘The dinner dance feels like a distant memory.’ Kate leaned against the sink in the kitchen after she passed Nadia a mug of tea.
The fundraiser less than forty-eight hours ago might feel like a distant memory to some of the team, but not to Nadia, who wished it was only the dancing with Hudson that she had to focus on in the aftermath.
‘What made you rush off and give up that gorgeous room, not to mention the breakfast fit for kings and queens?’ said Kate. ‘Is everything okay?’
‘Everything is fine. I remembered an important appointment the morning after, that’s all.’ It sounded plausible, didn’t it? ‘And I wasn’t feeling all that great either – probably too much food and a mixture of drinks that I’m not used to, so I decided I’d hitch a lift with the bus, no harm done.’ And now she was going too far, doubling up the excuses which sounded fake even to her own ears.
Nadia began to lead the way out of the kitchen. ‘Tell me more about the breakfast; was it as good as the dinner?’ She wasn’t really interested but it was a semi-normal conversation she could cope with rather than the turmoil going on inside of her head.
‘It was – pastries, fully cooked breakfast, pancakes… so much to choose from.’
‘I can’t believe you had room after the feast the night before.’
‘Nadia, let me tell you how the human body works…’
But Nadia laughed, shook her head.
‘It’ll be us on duty next year,’ said Kate as they reached the main office and she sat at the end desk. She wiggled the computer mouse to bring the screen alive. ‘Had to make the most of it.’
Nadia picked up the paperwork she needed and didn’t let her smile fade until she was out of Kate’s vicinity. And moments later, she tried to put it right back in place when she bumped into Hudson. She hadn’t seen him since the dinner dance and he was bound to have questions she wasn’t sure she was ready to answer yet.
‘I’ve got a meeting with the Turner family,’ he told her without preamble. Maybe he didn’t know what to say either. ‘They’ve agreed to share their story to promote The Skylarks and the work we do here.’
‘That’s wonderful, well done.’
He wasn’t looking at her – since when had he been one to avoid eye contact?
‘Hudson, about last night.’
‘You don’t owe me any explanation.’
‘I feel like I do, and I want to explain.’
When Frank appeared in the corridor, Hudson followed after Nadia as she went into her own office. He closed the door behind them.
‘I lied to you,’ she said.
‘About being single?’
‘What? No! I’m very much single, not seeing anyone at all.’
‘Who was the guy?’
She hesitated. She may as well come out with it. If she didn’t, she’d only be delaying the inevitable. ‘Archie was once my boyfriend. He’s now my sister’s husband.’
‘You have a sister?’
‘I have a sister. Yes. I never told anyone that, for reasons that might take me a while to explain.’
He leaned against the wall. ‘Wow, it seems…’
‘Ludicrous? Weird?’
He smiled across at her. ‘Not words I’d necessarily use, but why have you never mentioned your sister? I asked you in the pub outright whether you had any siblings and you said no.’
‘I felt terrible lying to you.’
‘So why did you?’
‘There’s so much about my life that I’ve pushed away and not told anyone about because I prefer not to think about it.’
He said nothing.
‘I’m sorry.’
‘No need to apologise. You know you ran away from the hotel and missed out on an exceedingly good breakfast, don’t you?’
Did the attempt at normality mean they were okay?
He took a seat in the chair opposite her desk as she sat down on the other side.
‘I’m not proud of myself for lying to you,’ she said.
‘I’m assuming there must be a deep reason why you didn’t admit to a sister.’
His sympathy almost undid her. ‘There’s a lot of history, my family was… is… complicated.’
‘I just wish you’d felt able to confide in me or someone else. I assume nobody else knows either?’
She nodded.
‘So why is your sister’s husband here? Is he local?’
‘No, he lives in Switzerland, where I grew up.’ She steepled her fingers, elbows on the table, and rested her head against her fingertips. ‘He thinks that Monica, my sister, might have come looking for me.’
They were interrupted by a knock at the door – Brad looking for Hudson. ‘The Turner family are here with the photographer.’
‘Thanks, I’ll be right there,’ Hudson told him.
Hudson was good at his job and had set up this publicity opportunity with the family. Their story had a happy ending and they’d agreed to share it. There’d be a lot of emphasis on the role played by The Skylarks, which would help promote what the team did here and hopefully go some way to raising more funds as a result.
He stood up. ‘We should talk more later. I can tell you’ve got a lot going on, but I’m a good listener. Ask the Turners.’
She returned his smile. He was being so kind to her.
‘I’d better go, get the photographs taken beside the helicopter.’
‘You can have my office for the interview if you like,’ she said.
‘I appreciate that. Thank you. The photographer will probably take half an hour, then I’ll do the interview afterwards. How does that sound?’
‘I’ll be out of here in ten minutes then use the room for as long as you need.’ She was talking to him like nothing unusual had happened in the last couple of days since her life had flipped, been thrown into disarray.
After Hudson left, Nadia re-read the text Archie had sent that morning for the umpteenth time. He’d gone to the police as she’d advised; they’d taken him seriously and had followed up several lines of enquiry: they’d checked the hospitals in the country just as he had but nobody of Monica’s description had been in; they’d checked with passport control that she was still in the country and hadn’t yet left so that was reassuring, Archie said, although he was no closer to finding her. They’d also begun to look at Monica’s online presence, see what they could find there, but so far, there was no news.
Archie’s text had been lengthy; it explained how the police had asked him whether he thought Monica was in danger. He’d had to admit that all he really knew was that she would never harm her baby, that she wanted to find her sister after all these years, and he truly believed Monica was still here in Dorset. He’d offered to do a blood test, to see if baby Lena was his, but he was advised that at this stage, that wasn’t necessary until they’d looked into this further.
They think I’m a nutjob , he’d written at the end of his text.
Nadia had almost wanted to reach out to her former friend, comfort him, tell him that everything would be okay, that his missing wife would be found and his baby would be safe. But she felt numb. So instead, she wrote a swift reply thanking him for the update and telling him that it was up to the police now.
She swilled the dregs of her tea and turned in her chair so she was facing the wall with all the framed photographs of the crew and their fundraising efforts. There was a beautifully framed picture of last year’s big fundraiser: the gala held at a town venue when they’d raised thousands, the blue team in attendance this time. That picture would soon be replaced by one from this year, taken at the start of the night before the tables had been cleared and the dancing commenced. Another photo was of the sponsored run everyone here had gone in for, taken at the finish line, all of them gathered hot and sweaty given the hills in the area – their efforts were represented in a special gigantic fake cheque they were holding to show how much they’d raised. Another picture featured Nadia, Maya, Bess and Kate when they’d done Tough Mudder, a gruelling obstacle course and mud run – their faces said it all. Streaked with mud, they were jubilant, they’d had fun, her and her teammates – her family.
Monica had been family once. But she’d always taken; she’d never given. Was she about to take more from Nadia by coming here and forcing her to tell her truth she’d kept hidden for years? Nadia had never wanted that. She never wanted people to know that she could turn her back on her own flesh and blood; it seemed so cruel, so hard. Hudson already thought badly of her, she could tell. It was only because he was a decent person that he was giving her the time of day. She doubted whether he’d want any more than a professional relationship, a friendship at best, after this.
Nadia turned her focus to the volunteer applications in her inbox. They’d take her mind off things.
The Whistlestop River Air Ambulance could never drop the ball when it came to raising crucial funds. The dinner dance had raised thousands, it had defied expectations, but there was always more to be done and like many air ambulances, members of the public who volunteered were additional heroes to their team. She perused four separate applications, two from retirees, two from school leavers trying to get something on their CV that might give them a leg up when it came to looking for work. There were plenty of roles to fill – they could help at fundraising events, provide admin support at the airbase, drive fundraising materials to events, engage in public speaking. She followed up each application and requested the further details she needed as well as setting up suitable times to talk with the applicant. It was a part of the job she really enjoyed: getting more people involved. She’d wondered, when she left nursing, whether she’d crave that nurse-to-patient contact, the continual rotation of different people in her orbit. But she hadn’t had a chance to miss it because, whilst the crews were relatively static here, the amount of other people involved was more than she’d ever realised.
There was a knock at her door as Nadia finished setting up a time with the last applicant. Kate came inside. ‘Visitor for you in reception.’
‘I’ll be right there.’
Kate lingered a moment. ‘It’s the guy from the party.’
And her heart sank. Trying to avoid the past was pretty difficult when it insisted on showing up at your door.