Chapter 18
It rains overnight, but by morning time the sky is a glorious pastel blue, and the sun is casting lemon drizzle over the whole village. The grass looks a shade brighter, the hanging baskets are starting to bloom, and somehow even the air feels fresher.
Everyone is out, and Connie has been dispensing treats from a trestle table outside the café – home-made lemonade, raspberry smoothies, coffee and cream, freshly-baked croissants and plates full of shortbread and chocolate-coated marshmallows. A perfectly balanced start to the day’s nutrition.
This communal breakfast of champions is serving a purpose – today is the day that George is exchanging homes with Archie. George’s house is a big, handsome thatched cottage that fronts onto the green itself, and Archie’s is a small Victorian terrace around the corner.
The house swap was George’s own idea, and it makes sense – he lives alone apart from his dog, Lottie, and Archie’s clan now includes Cally and Sam as well as his daughters, Meg and Lilly. The little girls have been sharing a bedroom since the two families blended, to accommodate Sam’s arrival. George doesn’t need anywhere near as much space as he has and was more than happy to suggest the solution.
But even though it makes sense, I can’t imagine that it’s been easy for either of them. Cally told me that the girls are super excited, because they will have a big bedroom each, and a huge garden, and a cellar that Archie has promised to transform into a playroom. She also confided that even she had shed a few tears at the change, and at what it means to the men in her life. George’s cottage is the place where he built a life with his late wife, and where he raised his three children.
Leaving a place with such powerful memories is going to be a wrench, and the same is true for Archie – saying goodbye to the home he once shared with the mother of his girls. It is a practical move, but it is also an emotional one – and I think Connie’s plan to make it a whole-village event was a masterstroke.
Not only is everyone distracted by the delicious food and drink, but she has organised us into work gangs – we will be bartering manual labour for refreshments. It is the perfect Starshine Cove arrangement, and Connie can even turn something as mundane as house moving into a celebratory social gathering.
Sam and Nathan are now manning the stall, and Connie is working the crowds, making sure we all understand what our jobs are. There are a lot of us here – the families involved, plus the Betties and Trevor, Miranda and Connie’s children, Ged and his pals, and a whole host of people I’ve not properly met. Some seem to be on holiday but are joining in anyway, and others are obviously locals from the village itself and the surrounding area. There are all ages represented, from mums with babies to school children through to a few who look even older than George himself. I couldn’t count them if I wanted to, as everyone is wandering around too much, but I’d say the crowd is thirty to forty strong.
It is really quite a heartwarming sight, all of these people willing to give up their time purely to help someone move house – but George has lived here for the whole of his long existence, and I’m guessing that Archie and his girls are well woven into the fabric of village life as well. They are rich in friendship, a vital part of the community, essential ingredients in the recipe of Starshine.
“It’s nice, isn’t it?” says Ella, sidling up beside me with a raspberry smoothie in her hands. She and Jake got back late last night, along with Larry. She looks well-rested and happy, clearly enjoying married life so far.
“Yeah, it is,” I reply, smiling at her. “And also kind of…”
“Unreal?” she suggests when I flounder. “I know. When I first got here I was freaked out. Thought it was all too good to be true. Turns out it’s not perfect, but close enough – it was just me who was too cynical to believe it.”
I give her a sideways look, wondering if she’s giving me a hard sell. She knows some of what happened while she was gone, but not all of it. Connie filled her in on our emergency dash to the Lakes, but as yet I have not told her the rest. The juicy stuff. Partly because I haven’t had the chance, and partly because Josh is now her brother-in-law, and it feels a bit weird.
We don’t have the chance to chat much further, because Connie is arranging us in two long lines, facing each other as though we are going to dance. Both of the lines start at George’s house, and end at Archie’s, forming a human chain between the two. One row goes to Archie’s home’s back door, and one into the front of George’s, enabling a hopefully seamless swap. The larger items of furniture, like sofas and beds and big appliances, have already been moved over by Archie and the Funky Farmhands, and today is all about the Everything Else.
We all shuffle into our spots, the line snaking the edge of the green and out of sight around the corner to Archie’s little cul-de-sac. Rose is at that end with Sophie and Dan, and I see Sam and Nathan spring down in that direction as well. Jake and Ella are next to me, though Ella has promised not to try and heft anything larger than a teapot, and opposite me is Josh. He grins at me, and it looks slightly competitive – something about the way we are lined up like this feels a bit like we might be about to launch ourselves into a game of rugby.
Connie blows a whistle, and the Great Exchange begins. We are roughly mid-way between the two homes, and I see George outside the cottage, laughing as he supervises at his end. The first item out is – ta-da! – Lottie’s dog bed, a slightly shabby and clearly much-loved item that is passed, hand to hand, all the way along my side of the chain. I take it from Jake, and I pass it to Trevor, and it goes on and on along its little journey, disappearing off around the corner and to its new home.
The first thing I see coming in the opposite direction is a cardboard box full of stuffed toys – mainly dinosaurs. Josh hefts it along to Matt the barman, who is next in line, and on it goes. Next up Jake hands me a sandwich toaster, which I duly pass along, and that is followed by a pop-up tent and a camping stove. No idea when the last time George used those was, but I suppose it pays to be prepared. Across from me, the human conveyor belt continues to bundle along things from Archie’s home, including a collection of umbrellas and raincoats.
The work goes on, with everyone in high spirits, laughing as the items we are handling often seem a bit on the eccentric side. George has so many fedora hats I begin to wonder if he’s part of the Mafia, and it seems that Cally and Archie have treated themselves to matching zebra-print onesies at some point. The mind boggles.
We pass down boxes and bags and satchels and crates, heaps of clothes and folded up bed-sheets and random ornaments and pieces of sports equipment. There are stacks of towels and dinner sets and masses of books, pictures in frames and pictures in albums and pictures printed up on canvas. We hand over vinyl and CDs and videos and toasters and cushions and shoes and frying pans and mirrors and lamps and Christmas decorations and oh, somany carrier bags – carrier bags full of batteries, toiletries, old birthday cards, needles and thread and first aid equipment. There’s even a carrier bag full of carrier bags.
A moment of chaos breaks out when Sam and Nathan come hurtling along between the two rows on bright red space hoppers, followed by Lilly and Meg on their bikes and Larry chasing after them, but Connie soon whips us back into shape.
It is hard work, with a fair bit of twisting and grappling involved on what is shaping up to be a warm day, but it is also a great deal of fun. Everyone is on good form, and it feels like we are making real progress. It also means that I get to sneakily check out Josh as he bends and lifts and otherwise exerts himself, muscular arms on display in a short-sleeved T-shirt, a thick strand of dark hair splayed across a forehead sheened with sweat. It is not, by any means, an unpleasant view.
I have been giving my situation some thought, taking on board the things that both Josh and Rose have said to me. I haven’t made any decisions, but I do feel a slight, slow unravelling of some of my previous certainties. That in itself is unsettling, but on a day like this, in company like this, it is hard to feel churlish about anything at all. In fact it is easy to let go, to allow that unravelling, to see the bigger picture – to acknowledge that certainty is not all it is cracked up to be.
I blink as I gaze along the line towards Archie’s end of things and see two enormous teddy bears heading in our direction. Everyone who gets a hold gives them a cuddle, because it seems impossible to resist – they are pretty much life-sized, one bright pink and one lilac. When they reach us, Josh holds the pink one up and throws it at me. I shriek but catch it, finding myself tangled up in teddy bear and laughing so hard I can’t quite catch my breath.
I pass it back just in time to take hold of the cricket whites that are heading towards me – looks like George didn’t manage to get rid of them at the Spring Greening after all – along with a cricket bat that looks older than George himself. I send them on their way, wondering what will be next to work its way down the chain.
I’m staring down towards George’s cottage when I see someone striding towards us from the car park outside the Starshine Inn. It is a determined stride, one that belongs to an always-confident person, and it is a gait that I immediately recognise even from a way off.
I pause mid-word as I speak to Jake, instantly forgetting whatever it was I was saying. I freeze, and continue to stare, and hope that I am wrong. I feel a prickling sensation on my scalp and bite my lip so hard I taste blood. My hands immediately bunch into fists, my own fingernails digging painfully into my palms.
No matter how much I want to be, I am not wrong, and my instincts tell me that before my eyes confirm it. It is him. It is Robert – and he looks angry, at least to me. To anyone else seeing him approach, he would look serious but perfectly calm. He is not scowling or shouting or waving his arms around, or doing any of the things that normally signify anger or aggression – but I can see the signs. They’re there in the very slight furrow between his brows, in the thin set of his lips, in the very deliberately controlled and neutral expression that he is wearing like a mask.
I take an involuntary step back as he nears, cursing myself as I collide with Trevor and mutter an apology. I hate that I stepped back, but I cannot help it – I feel ambushed, and exposed, and suddenly vulnerable.
Ella recognises him straight away, of course, and I see her eyes narrow at him before she looks in my direction, giving me a little nod of reassurance. Robert barely acknowledges her as he makes his way up to us, his gaze taking in the scene before him and sizing it all up in seconds. He is many things, this man, but slow is not one of them – he sees me, and sees that I am among friends, among possible allies. He stands a little too close, in the way he knows I will hate, and smiles at me. It is a smile that looks genuinely warm, and not at all threatening, and again I am made aware of how good he is at this – at appearing to be one thing when he is actually something else entirely.
My eyes have gone wide, and there is a low-level buzzing in my ears that wasn’t there before. I want to run, to hide, to disappear, but I force myself to stay steady. To hold my ground. I wonder where Rose is at this stage, and if he will care if she is here. If he will modify his behaviour around her, around all these people.
I am aware of the human chain breaking down next to me, of a red velvet footstool still in Jake’s arms and more things piling up further along the line. I am dimly aware of Connie blowing her whistle again and shouting that it’s time for a break. I see Josh from the corner of my eye, and know that he will be putting things together. He will see the tension in the way I hold myself, and he will see the fear in my eyes, and he will see that I am not returning the strange man’s smile. He will see it all.
“Lucy,” Robert finally says, looking me up and down and tilting his head to one side. “You look like you’ve been hard at work!”
Just like that, with one totally innocuous comment, he makes me aware of everything about me he will class as a flaw: I am sweaty, and my hair is a mess, and I am not wearing any make-up, and my clothes have been chosen for a day of dusty labour in the open air.
I remind myself that it doesn’t matter what he thinks, and simply reply: “That’s because I have. Why are you here, Robert?”
I feel Josh stand behind me, the gentle touch of his fingers on my back. Ella is next to me, Jake by her side. Without even being asked, they have drawn close, and I see Robert register this as well.
“I wondered if we could have a word in private, Lucy?” he asks, staring at me so intensely and so insistently that I am on the verge of agreeing. Wouldn’t it be better, part of me thinks, to do this away from an audience? Away from Rose? Wouldn’t it be better not to drag anyone else into it?
I open my mouth, not at all sure what is going to come out of it, when I hear Josh speak instead.
“No,” he says, quietly but firmly. “Whatever you need to say to Lucy, you can say here, in front of her friends.”
I see the slightest tremor of a muscle along Robert’s jaw, and that tells me how very annoyed he now is. He never shows anything other than complete control when he’s in public, and even that tiny twitch speaks volumes.
He looks Josh in the eyes and smiles once again. It is his placatory smile, the one that assures people he is on their side, that he has their best interests at heart. That everything will be A-okay as long as he is listened to. He does not know who Josh is, and he will assume that he can perform his subtle dominance on him as well. He is the ruler of his universe, at home and at work, and is used to getting his own way.
“I don’t think we’ve met,” he says politely, holding out a hand to shake. “I’m Robert, Rose’s father. I was just hoping to have a very quick word with Lucy, and then I’ll be on my way. I’m so sorry to interrupt everyone’s day.”
Josh returns his smile, but it is like no other smile I have ever seen from him. It is downright mean and makes him look entirely different – almost feral. He completely ignores the offered hand, and I see Robert’s momentary uncertainty before he drops it back to his side.
“We know who you are,” Josh says, his voice flat and cool. “And we don’t give a damn about what you were hoping to do.”
He steps forward, his body wedged between mine and Robert’s, his face inches away from my ex-husband’s. Jake stands beside his brother, and the two of them look formidable together – Jake might not have a clue what’s going on here, but he knows which side he is on.
I am aware of people looking at us, of Connie heading over, of George ambling in our direction to see what the problem is. Larry is running around Ella’s feet yapping and growling, obviously sensing the tension in the atmosphere. Cally walks down the path between the two now crumbling lines, and I see that she is holding George’s cricket bat. I’m pretty sure that’s a coincidence, but I’m also pretty sure that she assesses the situation fairly quickly, sees a threat, and grips it in her hands even more securely. Even in my current state of distress, I am amused at the idea of the local hairdresser getting stuck in with a cricket bat.
Archie follows Cally, and his tall and bulky frame is matched by a protective arm around her shoulder, and a glare aimed at the interloper. Anybody who has spoken to Archie knows that he is a gentle giant, but right now the “gentle” part is not so obvious.
Robert takes them all on, maintaining eye contact, never looking away or seeming at all intimidated – but he does step back from Josh. From me. From what even he can surely see is a conflict he can’t possibly manipulate in his own favour. This is something he is not used to – physical confrontation. That doesn’t happen in his civilised world, and I can tell he does not like it. Robert takes good care of himself, but Josh is taller, younger, fitter – and certainly a lot more visibly prepared to make the next move.
I place a hand on Josh’s arm, reminding him that I am still here. He is trying to stand up for me, to protect me. To keep me safe from a man he knows still frightens me. I appreciate that – not only his support, but that of all these people, all these friends. I appreciate it, but I cannot rely on it. I need to stand up for myself, or I will always regret it. They have given me the strength to do that, and in some ways, knowing that I don’t have to face Robert alone means that I feel I can.
Josh glances down at me, and I see a cold fury in his eyes. I get the feeling that he doesn’t just want to protect me, but that he’d also really quite enjoy punching Robert in the face. For me, for Lyssa, maybe even for his own mum. Enjoyable as that might be in the short term, my daughter is here, and I never want her to witness anything like that – plus I know, somewhere inside me that’s less primitive, that violence would not solve anything, satisfying as it could seem in the moment.
As though I’ve conjured her up, Rose trots towards us, slowing when she sees her father at the centre of the drama. She comes to a standstill a few feet away and folds her arms over her chest. Her purple streaks are lifted by the breeze, and her Dr. Martens have bright tartan laces, and she has never looked more defiant or more glorious.
“Rose,” he says, nodding at her. “Maybe you can help me, as your mother seems to be in an uncooperative mood – I’m actually here looking for Lyssa and my children.”
I note the way he says “my children”, all possession, and feel a pang of sympathy for Lyssa. He will not let go easily, and he will use them against her.
“Sorry, Dad,” Rose says, shrugging, “not a clue. Did you want anything else?”
For the first time ever, I see him look at her with real anger – with real contempt. With exactly the same calculated level of disappointment and disdain that I am so familiar with. And that is most definitely not allowed.
I push past Josh, and manage to keep my voice calm as I say: “Robert, come with me.”
He won’t enjoy me telling him what to do, but he will do it, because it is his chance to back down from the others without losing face, and also to potentially isolate me. Except I am not quite that stupid, and instead I simply plan to lead him across the green, over towards the tables and chairs on the café patio.
“Connie, do carry on without me!” I say as we pass her. She looks at me with a questioning glance, ignoring Robert and focusing on me, but I just mouth “please”. I don’t want everyone to be staring at me while I have this conversation, and wonderful as the inhabitants of Starshine Cove are, one thing they are not great at is privacy.
She blows her whistle, and tells everyone it is time for the merry-go-round to begin again. I make eye contact with Josh, who is staring after us, and give a gentle shake of my head. I see his nostrils flare, and know he is not happy that I am leaving, but he nods once, abruptly, and rejoins the line. Ella has also unlinked herself from the human chain, and is standing off to one side, keeping a subtle eye on me as she pretends to be playing with Larry. I blink away my doubts, and tell myself that I am fine – that I am safe. That I have more friends than enemies. That Rose is all right. That I am all right.
We reach the patio, but I do not sit down. That would be too intimate, too accepting – it might send the signal that I don’t want him to leave immediately. I do, however, put a table between us, because I need the distance. If he comes across to my side, I will move again, and I will continue that dance until he gives up – because he is not going to reach out and grab me while so many people are watching. He is too clever for that.
“Robert, I’d like you to leave,” I say simply. “So say whatever it is you want to say, and go. I don’t want you here, and I don’t think Rose does either.”
“Yes, I see that. You’ve done a good job of poisoning her against me,” he replies, his eyes boring into mine as he speaks.
“No, I haven’t. I never have, for her sake and not yours – I didn’t want her growing up knowing that side of you. But now she’s a young woman, and old enough to hear some truths and make up her own mind. Now why are you here?”
I sound so firm, so strong, so determined. I plant my hands on the table and lean forward as I speak, hoping it reflects my apparent lack of fear.
Inside, of course, it is a different story. Inside I am filled with flutters, and my legs feel weak, and my heartbeat is so fast and loud I can hear it pounding in my own ears. I need to end this conversation quickly, so I can find a place to hide, somewhere safe to collapse.
“Well, my darling wife Lyssa seems to have disappeared,” he says, dragging out his words as though he knows I am on an emotional deadline. “Along with my children. I came home from a work trip in Europe to find the house empty, her car gone, and the fridge stinking of sour milk.”
He pulls a disgusted face as he says this, and I know that the smell of the milk will be almost equal to the missing wife on the scale of things that have bothered him. He hates mess of any kind; it seems to upset him on some primeval level. Heaven forgive the woman who doesn’t use a coaster, or wipe up a spill, or dares to leave a crumb in the toaster.
“And what does that have to do with me?” I ask.
“Everything, I suspect, Lucy. Her car had a tracker on it, and apparently it’s been somewhere near here for several days, parked up at a paintball centre.”
In all honesty I hadn’t even given the car much thought. On the morning we left for the Lakes, Josh simply accepted the keys from me, and said he’d make sure it was moved somewhere safe. Now I can only assume that someone in the village decided that the paintballing venue was as good a place to stash it as any. I suspect Ged, or one of the younger people, and wonder if it is not now covered in neon splatters.
“I was obviously confused by that,” he continues, “and by the fact that she seems to have stopped using her phone now. She hasn’t answered my calls, and no location is showing.”
She has, I know, flushed her SIM card down the toilet and bought herself a new phone. Robert will still know where she’s likely to have gone, but that small act of defiance, the idea of her having a phone he doesn’t have the number to, or have control over, will have left him uncertain of his footing.
He moves very suddenly towards the side of the table, as though he is going to approach me, and I can’t help but flinch and re-establish the distance between us with staggering backward steps. He gives me a smile that tells me he knows he still has that effect on me, and that he still enjoys it. Lord. Maybe I should have just asked Josh to beat the crap out of him after all.
“One thing I did notice on the phone records, though,” he says, as though nothing has just happened, “is that apart from me, she only used it to call two people – you and Rose – on the day I left for Switzerland. I knew you were here for the wedding; the twins talked about it after Rose sent photos. So, I decided to pay you a visit. It took some finding, but here I am. I had hoped she might still be here, but I assume not. Where is she, Lucy?”
“That’s none of my business,” I reply simply. “And as for the car, I’ll make sure you get the keys back. I think that’s all we have to say to each other.”
“It’s really not! If she’s not here, then she must have run off back to her parents – Captain Has-Been and his very dull wife. I’ll find her there, and we’ll sort all of this out. She’ll want to come back home with me; I’ll convince her of it. And if she doesn’t, well… I’ll have to take the children at least. For their sake.”
“I’m not sure it’ll be that simple, Robert,” I say, feeling a flare of anger that blessedly over-rides my anxiety at being near him again. “You can’t just take the kids. If she wants to leave you, you’ll have to work through a process.”
“If she wants to leave me, if she wants to fight me for my own children, then she’ll lose. She’s mentally unstable. Perhaps it’s the pregnancy? Or perhaps it’s something more long-term and underlying. I’m not sure they’re safe with her when she’s in this state of mind. The poor woman can barely function sometimes, I have to do everything for her.”
I have always given Robert the benefit of the doubt when it comes to his kids, told myself that he is a loving father at least. I don’t know why – maybe I simply didn’t want to admit to myself that he had no redeeming qualities, because that would mean that I am the world’s worst judge of character. Maybe it was because I wanted to believe that he loved our daughter, that he would never hurt Rose. But the way he is talking now – so coldly, so convincingly – makes me doubt he even has that going for him. He would drag those children away from their perfectly capable mother in a heartbeat, and not necessarily because he loves them so much he can’t bear to imagine a life away from them.
“You forget who you’re talking to, Robert,” I answer, forcing myself to stand tall, to hold my shoulders back and not slouch in on myself. To make eye contact. “You’re not going to persuade me that Lyssa is the problem here. I know better than that. And again, you can’t just take them – you’ll have to make custody arrangements. You’ll have to be reasonable. Lyssa is allowed to leave you.”
Even as I say it, I realise how pointless it is – expecting Robert to be reasonable is like expecting a cat to bark. He is not a reasonable man, despite his socially acceptable exterior.
“She is not allowed to,” he hisses, his eyes flashing. “And if I have to take her to court, I will. If I have to get her bloody well committed, I will – I know the system, and nobody will believe any stupid stories she tells.”
“This isn’t the dark ages, Robert – you can’t do that. You don’t own her. I think you’ve convinced yourself you rule the whole world, and you’re in for a shock when you realise you don’t! And as for people believing her stupid stories… well, maybe she won’t be the only person telling them. Maybe somebody will back up her claims. Maybe everything that she’s gone through will come out in open court, and the world will see you for what you really are! Maybe you’ll be the one who ends up in trouble!”
He freezes, his hands still at his sides, his eyes narrowing as he stares me down. When he is like this – when he is still and silent and focused – he is at his most dangerous. This is what he looks like just before he strikes. Despite the fact that I am not alone with him, despite the fact that dozens of people are only metres away, despite the fact that I know my friends are watching over me, a sudden flood of adrenaline whooshes through my body. I feel a slow tremor start in my fingers; my mouth goes dry, my lips tremble.
“And who would be this person backing up her claims?” he says, sounding almost confused. “You? You and I both know you’re not capable of that, Lucy.”
I blink my eyes clear, and take a deep breath, and force myself to steady.
“You’re wrong, Robert,” I reply calmly. “I am capable of that, and of a lot more. Now leave.”