HELEN
The late winter sun was already low in the sky.
She watched the long shadows of the tree at the end of the garden playing on the wall of her father’s old workshop as its branches waved in the wind that was picking up.
The shed was dilapidated after decades of being battered by the elements.
She ought to have it dismantled, but that would be like taking the final pieces of her father away.
Perhaps there was something she could do to save it.
She rested her head on the arm of the sofa and closed her eyes.
What a tiring day, physically and emotionally.
The long drive to Tiverton Parkway to collect Harry had exhausted her.
Weeks of stress and sleepless nights coordinating the sale of the London house and her move back home were finally catching up with her. And then there was Nigel.
She hadn’t expected to see him on the footpath this morning.
How bloody awkward. The memories of their one and only kiss came flooding back.
She’d been so thrilled that he’d finally returned her feelings for him, and then he’d ruined that brief moment of joy by backpedalling and saying it was just the emotional overwhelm of the eclipse making him behave that way.
The long drive back to Dashford afterwards had been excruciating.
Thank God Carrie and her then boyfriend, Jimmy, were with them.
It would have been four hours of absolute silence otherwise as they and thousands of other cars made their way slowly back up north.
And now here he was again. He’d seemed pleased to see her initially, but was he really? She replayed the conversation in the Grange’s kitchen. Ambiguous to say the least, but definitely veering towards awkward, especially with Nancy’s unsubtle attempt to get them to meet up again.
Her phone buzzed. She took it out of her pocket and looked at the screen. Think of the devil! A text from Carrie.
Happy New Year from sunny California!
She’d added a picture of the view from her son’s apartment overlooking the Pacific. Helen took a photo of the view from the sofa and texted back
Happy New Year from sunny Devon. Suspect it’s warmer where you are. Xx
Carrie FaceTimed her immediately. ‘Settled in yet?’
‘Mentally, yes. Physically, no. I’ve got loads to unpack.’
‘There’s no rush, is there?’
‘No, other than if anyone visits they’re going to think I’m not much of an interior designer.’
‘Don’t invite anyone around then. You don’t need judgy people in your life anyway. I, on the other hand, would take it all as it comes.’
‘Are you angling for an invite? Give me at least a couple of weeks because the guest room is full of boxes, so I’ve got nowhere for you to sleep now Harry’s home.’
‘I thought you said he was staying at his girlfriend’s home in Clapham for the holidays?’
Helen lowered her voice. ‘They’ve split up. He doesn’t seem too cut up about it, though.’
‘He’s only young. Anyway, I’m flying back to London tomorrow so give me a shout as soon as you’re ready for me to head over to Devon. I loved it when we stayed with your folks for the eclipse.’
‘Funny you should mention that,’ Helen started to say before immediately regretting it.
‘What do you mean?’
She may as well tell her and, to be honest, she wanted to talk it through with someone. ‘I bumped into Nigel today.’
‘As in “I accidentally kissed you” Nigel?’
‘How many others do we know?’
‘And did he accidentally kiss you this time?’
‘Of course not. It was all very restrained.’
‘Isn’t he happily settled in New York with some socialite?’
‘He is, or that might be “was”, as he’s back at his mum’s on his own. We didn’t get much chance to talk.’
‘Intriguing. Are you going to see him again?’
‘I doubt it. We sort of said we would catch up, but he didn’t seem keen.’
‘But you could do with a bit of romance in your life.’
‘Oh, I can’t be bothered. I’m enjoying life on my own.’
‘But you fancied Nigel years ago.’
‘And he didn’t fancy me.’
‘I’m not so sure. You don’t accidentally kiss someone without having feelings for them.’
‘So why did he skedaddle off to America so soon afterwards?’
‘He said it was for his career, didn’t he?’
‘Exactly. His career mattered more than me. And let’s face it, I was never posh enough for his circles.’
‘I guess that’s why he ended up with whatsherface.’
‘Hmmm.’
Helen heard a voice in the background at Carrie’s end.
‘I’m going to have to go. Sam’s calling me for breakfast. We’re eating on the balcony.
He and George make such an effort for every meal, and I don’t think it’s purely for my benefit.
It’s quite exhausting. I’m looking forward to slobbing in front of the telly with an M&S microwave dinner for one when I get back home. Not that I’m ungrateful, of course.’
Helen laughed. ‘Of course. When you come here there will be lots of slobbing!’
‘I can’t wait! Happy 2024!’
‘Happy 2024!’ Helen said as the call ended.
She was about to put her phone down on the table when she noticed she’d got an unread message.
Odd. It must’ve arrived while she was driving.
She opened the messaging app again. A text from Nigel.
She felt her heart skip a beat. Not again!
She was sure that was a perimenopausal symptom.
More likely than the alternative explanation that she still had feelings for him after all these years.
She tentatively opened the text. He wanted to meet for coffee.
She read the message again. Yes, he was definitely suggesting that they meet up at that new bookshop and cafe that had opened by the harbour.
Madness. But then again he’d always been good company - they’d had a lot of laughs in those years when they’d been good friends.
And she wanted to visit the bookshop anyway.
Come on, Helen. You’re mature enough to cope with this. And you could do with some company your own age.
She tapped out a reply and pressed send.