Chapter 16
CHAPTER 16
L aura hung the dress she’d chosen to wear tonight on the front of the wardrobe before leaving her bedroom, crossing the landing and taking the short flight of stairs to the turret room. Gazing out of the window, she could see the tops of the Christmas trees that had been left in situ overnight, and the sagging roof of the tarpaulin. The site, masked in shadow by the fading day, looked bereft without its human element. Without Clayton.
Today, Saturday, had been busy. Cars had been up and down the drive all day. She’d gone outside to chat to some of her friends from the village as she’d spotted them arriving but had stayed away from the tree site in case she betrayed her emotions. Since Saul’s revelation yesterday, she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Clayton.
What did not ‘doing’ Christmas, as Saul had put it, actually mean? She hoped it didn’t mean he would spend the day entirely alone. No matter how down he felt, that couldn’t be good for him. Did he have parents or siblings to be with, family members who had shared the tragic loss of Louise? She tried to remember if he’d ever mentioned them in conversation, but nothing came to mind. Questions burned themselves into her brain; questions she had no right to express. Best, then, to keep her distance from Clayton.
She’d spent most of the day in the dining room, where she could keep a watch on what was going on outside. There she’d unpacked several parcels which had arrived during the week, including one containing three new scented candles in glass jars. She’d already lit one of the candles, standing the jar on the dining-room windowsill. The scent, a delicious mixture of sugar and spice, permeated the hallway and floated up the stairs. Other parcels had contained a string of pink fairy lights shaped like ballet shoes which she hadn’t been able to resist, although she wasn’t exactly short of lights. Then there were little presents to go on the tree for the family party on Christmas Day, including snowman motif socks for Holly and Laura’s sister, and glittery make-up purses for her young teenage nieces.
The Christmas cards were written and waited in piles, one for posting, one for handing out personally, and some of the larger presents were wrapped and labelled. In less than a week, if she was as good as her word, Holly would be home. Laura’s insides skittered with excitement at the thought. She must make sure the decorations were up by then, including the tree which she hadn’t yet chosen from Clayton’s stock. She wouldn’t be able to avoid him altogether, then. Laura sighed, but she couldn’t help the smile that crept to her lips.
The landline phone began to ring. Leaving the turret room, she hurried back down to her bedroom, reaching the extension phone just before the answer machine kicked in.
‘Only me,’ Emily said. ‘I was just wondering what you were up to.’
Laura glanced at the silky, midnight-blue dress hanging on the wardrobe and sighed again. ‘I’ve got to go to some function with Spencer. A dinner dance.’
‘ Dinner dance ?’ Emily sounded incredulous. ‘Do they really still have those? I thought they went out in the eighties, if not before.’
‘I wish.’
Laura’s body felt suddenly heavy. She went across and sank onto the window seat. To think, she used to love swanning into luxurious country hotels, like the one they were going to tonight, on Spencer’s arm, and sipping a champagne cocktail while he introduced her to his business pals and their partners. It was the novelty, she supposed. Now, though… well, she wasn’t looking forward to tonight one bit.
‘You don’t have to go if you don’t want to,’ Emily said. ‘Make some excuse. Not that you should need one.’
‘It’s not that simple.’
‘Laura, it is that simple. What happened to your independent spirit, girl?’
‘Still intact, but I don’t want to let Spencer down.’
Laura frowned. This conversation had a slightly odd feel to it. Emily had always been the cheerleader in her relationship; she’d obviously thought it was high time it moved up a gear. So why was she now encouraging Laura to bow out of a date just because she didn’t fancy it?
‘Tell him you’re ill. That’ll keep him at bay.’
Laura laughed. Spencer had a horror of catching germs. Once when she’d had a cold he’d stayed away from her for ten whole days.
‘I can’t do that,’ she said, still laughing. ‘Anyway, it might not be so bad. The food will be delicious, the wine will flow, and I’ve got to know some of the people who’ll be there. They’re all quite friendly. Yes, it’ll be fine.’
‘Who are you trying to convince?’ Emily asked, her voice quietening.
‘Em, what is this?’ Laura said.
A small silence fell before Emily spoke again. ‘Nothing, take no notice of me. Get dressed up and enjoy the night. Give Spencer a kiss from me. Oh, no, forget I said that. He ain’t my type.’
They both giggled. Laura felt better about tonight already, as if she really had convinced herself she wouldn’t be bored rigid. If you loved somebody, though, you had to make the odd sacrifice.
‘Come to lunch tomorrow, Em. Bring Wilf and we can take him for a long walk in the afternoon. It’ll do us good. Well, me really. I don’t get nearly enough exercise.’
‘Ah, well, that’s what I’m ringing about, apart from seeing how you are.’
‘What, exercising?’
‘No, I’m ringing about Wilf. I haven’t had the chance to tell you but I met this guy on a dating site. He’s in television and he works in London but he lives in Sussex…’
Emily didn’t need to say any more. Laura smiled into the room.
‘You’ve got a hot date and you want me to have Wilf? Of course I will. That means it’ll be a late one then?’
It wasn’t really a question. Laura would have nudged Emily in the ribs if she’d been there in person.
‘I don’t know. It depends. Best to be prepared, though. We went out on Thursday night and really hit it off. He’s in London again this weekend but he’ll be back tomorrow afternoon. I’m driving up to his and no doubt we’ll have a drink, so...’
So she wouldn’t be able to drive home. And the rest.
‘Em, it’s fine. You don’t have to explain. I’ll have Wilf overnight and pop him back to yours on my way to work on Monday.’
Laura heard Emily’s long exhalation of breath at the other end of the line. ‘Thanks. I need a bit of fun. It’s been bloody ages .’
Laura laughed, knowing exactly what kind of fun Emily had in mind. ‘Ring me tomorrow when you’re on the way with Wilf. And don’t forget to bring his bed and his dinner.’
‘Cheers, you’re a darling,’ Emily said, and rang off.
Laura stayed sitting on the window seat for a moment, thinking about Emily and her exciting, but brave, dating activities. She did hope this one worked out for her. It was a lottery wasn’t it, dating virtually strange men? How were you supposed to know they were genuine? It was different with her and Spencer. She’d got to know him fairly well before she’d spent time at his house, or let him come to hers. And as for sleeping with him, she’d made him wait ages, well past the point of sense. To his credit, he’d seemed perfectly happy to wait until she was ready, and hadn’t put any pressure on her.
When you’d had one partner for years, starting all over again was a nerve-wracking experience. But eventually, she’d learned to trust her own judgement, and now here she was again, preparing to play the part of Spencer’s partner in public.
Play the part . Where had that come from? She was Spencer’s partner, so why did she feel as if she was stepping into a role when she was out with him, a role she no longer seemed to fit?
It was a quarter to four on Sunday afternoon when, having waved off a sparkly-eyed Emily, Laura took Wilf for his walk. The sun had shone brightly all day, but now the sky was streaked with rose and apricot as sunset approached, and the air already held a hint of the frost to come.
They walked down the drive, past the deserted Christmas tree plot, and out onto the road. Laura had planned to head up the hill, then follow the public footpath as far as the stile before turning back. But Wilf, apparently, had other ideas and trotted determinedly in the other direction, leading Laura instead of the other way around. Fine, she thought. The village it is, then. No doubt it would turn out to be a longer walk but they were both well wrapped up against the cold, Laura in her old cord jeans, padded jacket and blue woolly hat; Wilf in his red quilted coat.
As they made their way down the hill, Laura thought about last night. Apart from the seemingly endless self-congratulatory speeches made by several of the business federation’s members, she’d had quite a good time. Spencer had been charming and funny; he’d even danced with her, to the slow numbers. In fact, he’d seemed to be making an extra effort to make sure she enjoyed herself.
The event had finished before midnight. He hadn’t stayed over. Their goodnight kisses on her doorstep had been passionate, and she’d expected him to pay off the taxi. Unusually for Spencer, he’d seemed unsure as to what came next. In the end, he’d said he was tired and would she mind if he didn’t come in. Of course she didn’t mind, she’d assured him – which happened to be true – but still, she’d felt slightly puzzled as she’d watched him get back in the taxi.
While she’d been getting ready for bed she’d remembered how, during the evening, Spencer had quizzed her, quite intently, about the Christmas trees. He’d seemed concerned about the constant visitors disrupting her privacy as well as the possible damage to the garden. She’d assured him that there hadn’t been any problems, nor did she expect there to be.
Lulled into a happy haze by the excellent wine, she hadn’t paid too much attention at the time. Now, she wondered if all this interest was because Spencer was still angry with her over Clayton, and that was why he hadn’t wanted to stay last night. She’d noticed, too, that Spencer hadn’t come anywhere near Spindlewood while the trees were on sale. Well, if he wanted to sulk, that was his problem, not hers. She would ring him this evening, though, just to make sure he was okay. She shouldn’t find fault with Spencer so readily, not if she really loved him.
Christmas had come to Charnley Acre, or at least the beginnings of it, Laura was happy to note, as she and Wilf passed a row of five timbered cottages that were some of the oldest in the village. Two had holly wreaths on the low-lintelled doors, and lighted trees in the windows. Through the window of another, she glimpsed a ceiling-high swoop of sparkle. Some of the shops in the high street already had festive window displays. The Ginger Cat’s inside windowsill had disappeared under a froth of fake greenery, and strings of cardboard cats wearing party hats and unlikely grins were looped across the window itself. Veronica’s wool and craft shop had huge red and green bows attached to the baskets of wool in the window. Even the hardware shop had sprigs of fake holly between the mops and buckets and pots of paint, and reindeer stickers on the window.
The Christmas market would begin in a few days’ time. The stalls were already being set up in the car park, spilling round the corner, into the high street. There’d be fewer parking spaces in the village but only the miseries would complain, and once the stalls came to life with fairy lights, bunting, music and the usual colourful array of handmade gifts, decorations and all kinds of delicious things to eat, any ill feeling would be soon forgotten.
Laura loved it all; she smiled with satisfaction as she continued along the street. She couldn’t wait to begin on her own decorations. Spindlewood was made for Christmas. The spacious, high-ceilinged hallway was the ideal place for the tree; they’d always placed it there, with Cynthia on top, presiding over the festivities. The mantelpieces above the fireplaces in the living and dining room cried out for greenery, red ribbons and fairy lights. Deep windowsills throughout the house made good homes for candles swathed with ivy, baubles piled into glass bowls, and the miniature shops and houses with lighted windows, which were Holly’s favourites. She could make a start tonight, if she had the energy after her walk.
Laura wandered contentedly along, thinking about Christmas, the whippet trotting beside her. Outside the shuttered post office, Wilf stopped to use the lamp-post before taking a sharp turn down the side street, Laura following. It was growing dark now; she’d give Wilf five more minutes, then they’d make their way back to the high street, and home.
Reaching the end of Wilf’s chosen street, Laura had just shortened his lead, preparing to guide him along the shortest route home, when a street name caught her eye: Squirrel Lane. Wasn’t this where Clayton lived? She recalled the address from his invoices. Laura hesitated. Squirrel Lane led eventually to the main Charnley Road. It would take longer to get home that way than if they doubled back to the high street, but that was all right. A good walk now would mean Wilf would only need a quick mooch around the garden tonight.
As if that was ever going to be the reason.
Shaking her head at her own hopelessness, Laura set off along Squirrel Lane. The house wasn’t difficult to spot; the bright-green van was parked alongside it. Nerves zigzagged through her as she and Wilf drew level with the row of Victorian flint cottages. Clayton’s was at the far end of the row. Mistletoe Cottage , Laura read on the wooden sign attached to the gate. Strangely enough, as soon as she saw the sign, her nerves left her. She felt reassured, whether it was because of the lovely name of the cottage, or the fact Clayton lived there, she didn’t know. Either way, there was no reason to feel guilty at being here.
Even so, she averted her eyes from the windows as Wilf enforced a stop right outside the house in order to sniff the sprouting of grass that grew by the gatepost. It wouldn’t do to be caught peeking.
‘Hey!’ Clayton’s voice came out of nowhere. ‘Laura!’
She gazed round confusedly. There was nobody at the front door, nor at the window. And then Clayton was beside her, a broad grin on his face.
‘Oh, hello. I didn’t see…’ Laura began.
‘I was looking for something in the back of the van,’ Clayton said, waving in the direction of the van which she could now see had its back doors open. ‘I don’t need to ask what you’re doing along here.’
‘What? Oh, yes…’ Laura said, as she realised Clayton was looking down at Wilf.
A beat of silence, then she smiled. ‘We’ve been out a while – his idea, not mine. It’s time we were heading back.’
She yanked pointedly on Wilf’s lead but the dog didn’t budge. Instead, he transferred his sniffing activities to Clayton’s shoes, then, embarrassingly, licked the hem of his jeans. Laura raised her eyes.
Clayton stooped to pat Wilf’s head. ‘I think he likes me.’
‘He’s a whippet. He likes everybody.’
‘And there was I thinking I was someone special.’
Laura couldn’t meet Clayton’s gaze. There was something about the way he’d said that which made her think he wasn’t talking about the dog. How come she was here, outside his house, anyway? Hadn’t she decided to avoid Clayton, after what Saul had told her? Well, that hadn’t lasted long, had it?
‘Kettle’s on,’ Clayton said, nodding towards the cottage. ‘Or it will be in a tick.’
‘That’s usually my line.’ Laura laughed. ‘Thanks, but I mustn’t hold you up any further.’
He smiled. ‘You wouldn’t be.’