Chapter 3 #2
‘You’re right.’ He shook his head, and the movement made his dark hair shine in the moonlight.
‘That’s a good point. I should have thought.
I spend too much time with Figgy – he’d get into anyone’s car, especially if it had leather seats…
’ He trailed off as he glanced up the cobbled pavement, looking thoughtful.
‘How about I walk you? Eleanor’s at a meeting in the village hall.
’ He pointed down the high street. ‘It’s well-lit and I can walk three steps ahead if you’d prefer? ’ He didn’t look like he was joking.
Clara glanced along the pavement taking in her surroundings properly for the first time.
It was quintessential Cotswolds. There were quaint shops with heavy slate roofs as far as the eye could see lining each side of the meandering street.
She could see a huge tree in the far distance and a little honey-coloured stone bridge which crossed the stream running parallel to the road where the man had just parked.
Warm white fairy lights had been strung above each of the shops and they wound into the distance, punctuated periodically with ornaments in the shape of snowmen, Santa Claus and Christmas gifts.
The display ended at the tree which had been adorned with multiple golden, red and green lights which looked like huge fireworks.
It was a glorious technicolour festive dream.
Just looking at them was balm to her fractured soul.
‘Is it far?’ she asked, grabbing the handle of her bag.
He shook his head. ‘Less than ten minutes.’ He signalled to her luggage.
‘I can pull that if you like? I’m not going to steal it – although I can’t say the same for Figgy, he likes denim bags too.
’ He stared down at his dog. ‘You can keep an eye on both of us if you walk behind.’ His eyes glittered and Clara wondered if he was teasing her, but she was too jetlagged to know.
‘It’s fine, it’s not heavy and we can walk together.’ She smiled. ‘I’m Clara Frost.’ She held out a hand. ‘If you’re going to be my guide for this evening, I suppose we should at least exchange names.’
He took it and gave her an odd look. ‘I’m sure I recognise your surname, how do you know Eleanor?’ His eyes scoured her face, making her insides fizzle like firelighters on a flame.
‘She’s my godmother. She used to be best friends with my mother,’ she explained, wincing because her mother had nothing to do with Eleanor now.
He nodded slowly as understanding dawned. ‘Maeve Frost.’ His eyebrows drew together, obviously unimpressed. ‘I’ve heard about her. Eleanor did mention you. I thought you were about twelve.’ He looked her up and down, clearly confused.
‘I was once.’ Back when Eleanor was a regular visitor. She gave him a half smile. ‘Now I’m all grown up. It happens.’
‘So it seems.’ He cleared his throat as his eyes darkened, then he wriggled his head like a dog shaking off rain.
‘What’s your name?’ she asked when the silence grew awkward.
‘Liam Armstrong.’ The smile he gave her was as brilliant as the fairy lights above them, and if she wasn’t still hung up on Hudson, she might have joined the angels and drooled.
She suddenly yawned involuntarily, the lack of sleep and emotional rollercoaster of the day catching up with her. ‘I’m so sorry, would you mind if we head off? I’m not sure how much longer I’m going to be able to stay awake.’
‘No problem. I often have that effect on women,’ he joked before holding out his hand for her bag. ‘Call me weak, but my ego isn’t going to remain intact if you pull that yourself.’
She let him wait for a moment before handing him the bag. ‘Well, we wouldn’t want to dent your ego. It is almost Christmas, after all,’ she muttered, amused. Then they began to walk in silence side by side.
Liam was right, the village hall appeared around a sharp corner in the pavement exactly ten minutes later.
Clara admired the stunning building as it came into focus.
It was a small structure created with large limestone bricks and featured a triangular roof and multiple heritage windows with shimmering panes of glass peppered across the sides.
They’d all already been enthusiastically decorated with fairy lights and a flurry of white snowflakes made from paper that had been clumsily snipped and then coloured in.
‘We’re here,’ Liam confirmed, speaking for the first time since they’d begun their journey. He opened the large wooden door that led into the building and Clara paused on the threshold, suddenly feeling shy.
‘Everything okay?’ he asked gently, looking at her closely.
‘I’m just jetlagged,’ she murmured, embarrassed. ‘I flew in from New York this afternoon and I haven’t seen Eleanor in a while.’
He stared at her for a few beats as if trying to read her mind, before he nodded. ‘I’m guessing she’s going to be happy to see you. She’s talked about you a lot…’ He gave her a half smile as he stood aside and swished his hand, indicating she should follow Figgy who’d already gone in.
The building was larger on the inside than Clara had expected and she paused, taking it all in.
It had a vaulted wooden ceiling which gave the space a light and airy feel.
Someone obviously took their Christmas decorating very seriously because fairy lights had been hung across the rafters, along with a multitude of pictures of presents and Santa Claus painted in garish poster paints and drowned in glitter.
‘This is the home of the village preschool in the week,’ Liam told her, obviously catching her expression. ‘I have it on good authority that there’s some real emerging talent here – if Picasso were alive, he’d probably be shaking in his boots.’
Clara let out a loud belly laugh. It was the first time she’d so much as chuckled in almost a month.
Things had been tense at home, but she’d been too busy in her role as a data engineer in Hudson’s recruitment business to notice.
He wanted to float the company on the stock market in the new year which had put a lot of pressure on them all, and she’d assumed at the time that it was that – rather than him cheating on her – that had made every conversation feel like they were grating off slices of each other’s skin.
It hadn’t always been like that. When they’d met, Hudson had been charming and thoughtful, but over the past year all that had changed…
‘Eleanor’s over there.’ Liam pointed a finger at the long table that had been erected at the end of the room. There were a dozen people sitting around on high-back chairs talking animatedly and she felt a hard thump in her chest as she spotted Eleanor immediately.
Her godmother must have seen her in the same moment because she leapt to her feet and sprinted across the hall before sweeping Clara into her arms. ‘Oh my goodness you look as beautiful as ever!’ she declared.
The words were such a contrast to what her mother would have said – she’d have peppered in criticisms about Clara’s appearance, dressing them up as concern – that Clara hugged Eleanor extra tight.
Eleanor felt just the same and still smelled faintly like warm pistachios. It had always been Eleanor’s trademark perfume and Clara pressed her nose into the older woman’s shoulder, breathing her in while her eyes unexpectedly pricked with tears.
‘I wasn’t sure when I’d get to see you again,’ Eleanor whispered into her hair.
‘But I’m glad you’re here. What are you doing in Hollythorpe?
’ She stopped and shook her head. ‘Actually, if you don’t want to talk about why, you don’t need to.
If you do, I’m happy to listen.’ She looked just the same, with shoulder-length blonde hair that fell in soft waves to her shoulders, a plump face with stunning features.
Even in her mid-fifties, Eleanor would turn heads.
Clara wondered again if she was dating Liam.
‘Do you want to talk about it?’ Eleanor repeated.
‘Maybe not right now,’ Clara murmured. She was too tired to go into what had happened. She was just happy to be here, to be in the warm embrace of someone who wasn’t going to bombard her with questions or make her feel like she’d done something wrong.
Eleanor eyed her speculatively. ‘You’d better come and sit down then.’ She pulled back and cupped Clara’s cheek. ‘Whatever it is – and we won’t be talking about it now –I’m sure we can sort it out together.’
‘I’m not sure we can, actually.’ Clara hiccupped as a tear slid down her cheek. She was relieved to be here, but her life was so broken she wasn’t sure if anyone – even Eleanor Kringle – would be able to help her fix it.