Sunshine After the Rain (Escape to the Lakes #4)

Chapter 1

1

I picked up the empty tube of toothpaste and groaned. I’d already scraped my toothbrush along it several times to push out every last vestige of paste and it was time to admit defeat. Except I didn’t have any spares – very unlike me to be so disorganised, although, with such a grim start to the New Year, it was hardly surprising something had slipped.

I’d spent Christmas and New Year in St Lucia and remembered a packet of miniature toiletries I’d been given on the flight home. I crouched down and rummaged in the various storage containers in the under-sink cupboard in the hope that I’d tossed it in there in case of emergencies.

‘Yes!’ I muttered, spotting the package. As I reached for it, I knocked over a can of body spray and my heart sank as I spotted it was one of Graeme’s. He evidently hadn’t checked the cupboard in his haste to clear out his stuff last night. I’d told him there was no rush – that he could come back another time or I could drop it off for him – but he’d seen no point in prolonging things. I could relate to that. When I’d made the decision to leave my husband, Flynn, I’d felt that way too – had just wanted to pack up and leave.

Had Graeme left anything else? I couldn’t see any more of his belongings in the cupboard but, body spray in my hand, I wandered across the hall into my bedroom and checked the drawer he used when he stayed over. A feeling of weariness overcame me as I closed the empty drawer. Slumping down on my bed, not caring that the towel swathed round me was wet, I sprayed the can and breathed in the scent of bergamot and sandalwood. I liked it but I didn’t love it, which struck a chord with me because I’d liked but hadn’t loved Graeme. It was right that it was over, but that didn’t stop me feeling sad about it. I was going to miss his company.

I shivered and goose bumps broke out over my entire body. We were a third of the way into January and the central heating in my rented flat was on its last legs. Sitting still in a chilly room wrapped in a soggy towel with wet hair dripping down my back wasn’t ideal, but I couldn’t seem to muster the energy to haul myself up and get ready, especially when I had mixed feelings about how I’d be spending the day, or rather where I’d be spending it.

I was returning to Willowdale – the small village beside Derwent Water in the stunning Lake District National Park where I’d been raised and where my parents, Bruce and June, still lived – to celebrate my mum’s eightieth birthday. I loved that part of the world so much but I rarely went back. It held so many painful memories that I had to psych myself up ahead of each visit and invariably returned to Newcastle feeling emotionally drained. Having Graeme accompanying me the last few times had helped deflect the standard question – When are you coming home? – but without him by my side today, I’d not only be asked that but there’d be a host of other questions about why we’d split up, none of which I wanted to answer. Too complicated.

I winced, realising I probably should have let my sister Georgia know that there’d be one less for the meal. I glanced at my phone charging by the bed and shook my head. I’d message her from the car instead, right before I set off – best way to avoid an interrogation.

Shivering again, I wished I could crawl under the duvet and give today a miss, but it wasn’t an option. I had to go. My family had been supportive of my move to Newcastle-Upon-Tyne after I’d left Flynn. I think they understood why I needed to get away, but I was fairly sure they didn’t understand why I’d stayed away. Sometimes I wasn’t sure of that myself.

I looked round the bedroom and sighed heavily. It was the first flat I’d viewed that summer. Built in the 1980s, boxy and soulless, I’d only planned to stay for six months while I worked out what my life would look like without my family around me. Six and a half years later, I still hadn’t moved flat and I hadn’t moved on either.

My mobile ringing made me jump. Spotting Georgia’s name on the screen, I hesitated. I knew why she was calling. She did it every time there was a family get-together. But if I spoke to her now, I’d have to tell her about Graeme. Better to ignore it. The ringing eventually stopped but started up again moments later. Georgia always did that and, if I didn’t answer, she’d keep calling until I did. Rolling my eyes, I accepted her FaceTime request.

‘You took your time,’ she said, raising her eyebrows at me. ‘I was beginning to think you were screening your calls and avoiding me.’

I pointed to my wet hair. ‘I’ve just got out the shower. Didn’t think you’d want me answering in the nip.’

‘Too right!’ She pulled a mock-disgusted face. ‘Does this mean you’re still coming?’

‘Of course! You don’t have to keep checking, you know.’

‘Don’t I? Because you’ve never dipped out before, have you, Mel?’ she said, her tone teasing.

‘Yeah, but I’ve always let you know. I’ve never just not shown up and there’s no way I’d miss Mum’s eightieth.’

‘Good. I know Mum and Dad never visit you, but it doesn’t mean they don’t miss you.’

‘I miss them too. It’s just…’

Georgia nodded slowly. ‘I get it. But it’s been seven years, Mel. I know you can’t put a timescale on grief, but you’ll never come to terms with it if you keep hiding away.’

My shoulders sagged as another wave of weariness overcame me. ‘I’m not hiding.’

She raised her eyebrows at me once more.

‘Okay, maybe I was at first but this is my home now and I like it here.’

‘You like it? Such a glowing endorsement. You should work for the tourist board. Come and visit Newcastle. You’ll like it here.’

‘You’re hilarious.’

‘I am, and I’m also honest. You like Newcastle but you don’t love it. You love the Lakes.’

I opened my mouth to protest but I’d never been able to lie to Georgia. Newcastle-Upon-Tyne was a fantastic, vibrant city with loads to do and the people were so warm and friendly, but there was no getting away from the fact that it wasn’t the Lake District. With each passing year, the yearning to return grew stronger but I wasn’t sure I could do it.

‘Were you just making sure I won’t be a no-show or was there something else?’ I asked, shivering once more as another droplet of water trickled down my back.

‘So suspicious! There’s no ulterior motive. A couple of Mum’s friends have had to dip out due to illness and the Lakeside Inn want the final numbers so I thought I’d double-check that you and Graeme are still coming before I call them.’

‘I’ll be there, but Graeme won’t be,’ I said, trying to sound casual.

‘No! Really? Is it work? I thought he’d booked the weekend off ages ago.’

Graeme was an Accident and Emergency doctor. He’d occasionally taken a raincheck on our plans due to work pressures, but he’d never have let me down for a significant event like this. Graeme had never let me down on anything that counted. I wore the crown for that.

‘It’s not work. It’s me. We’ve split up.’

Georgia’s eyes widened and her mouth dropped open. ‘Why?’

‘It wasn’t working.’

‘Since when?’

‘Does it matter?’

‘Yes! I’m your big sister and I had no idea you were having problems. I need the details.’

‘Well, if you want me to be on time to Mum’s party, you can’t have them.’

She sighed. ‘I’ll get it out of you later. How did he take it?’

‘Badly. Said a few harsh things.’

‘Like what?’

‘Seriously, Georgia, do you want me to get ready or not?’

‘Okay, I’ll let you go. We can dissect it over a bottle of wine tonight.’

‘There’s not that much to tell. We’ll be done halfway down the first glass.’

She shook her head. ‘Uh-uh! Not accepting that. You were together for two years, Mel! There are things to talk about.’

‘Clock’s ticking,’ I said, tapping my bare wrist, my nothing-to-see-here mask firmly in place.

‘See you soon,’ she relented. ‘Drive carefully.’

‘Always do.’

We said our goodbyes and disconnected.

Dropping my phone on the bed, I returned to the bathroom and squeezed some cold water from my long dark hair. I reached for my hairbrush but I didn’t use it, staring instead at my reflection in the mirror with a sigh. Georgia was right. Nobody walks away from a two-year relationship without feeling something. I hadn’t. I really was sad that it had ended, but I also felt guilty because the sadness wasn’t about the relationship being over – it was about my social life being over. What did that say about me? The thing is, I’d thought Graeme understood. I’d thought we were on the same page about what sort of relationship we had. Turned out we hadn’t even been in the same book. So I wasn’t only sad. I was also annoyed and frustrated that everything had changed and fearful of the emptiness that lay ahead. Especially when that meant even more time to think and remember and regret.

* * *

Half an hour later, I pulled out of my parking space and set off on the two-hour journey cross country to Willowdale. Driving in the city centre always put me on edge. I hated the volume of traffic, the pedestrians stepping out without looking, the food delivery drivers on their electric bikes jumping red lights and swerving onto the footpaths, the noise and general chaos. The moment I left the outskirts and reached the lush green countryside, that tension ebbed away.

I’d always strongly proclaimed that I wasn’t a fan of city centres, feeling hemmed in by the tall buildings and so many people, so my family had been right to question my choice of Newcastle but, at the time, it had felt logical. It took me away from home, but not ridiculously far. It was more convenient than Willowdale for my job as a conservation architect – a role specialising in the preservation of historic buildings – because I worked on more projects in the north-east than the north-west of the country. And the biggest pull had been that living in Newcastle would be completely different to life in Willowdale. I foolishly believed the contrast would make a fresh start easier.

I usually listened to the radio when I was driving and particularly enjoyed a local radio station which only played music from the seventies, eighties and nineties, evoking happy memories of my childhood, teens and twenties – a time before my world turned upside down and I lost everything.

‘Welcome to Themed Thirty,’ Ricky the DJ announced in a sing-song voice brimming with enthusiasm. ‘You know how it works by now – I give you a theme and we play thirty minutes of songs selected by you. Today’s theme of weather has been a popular one and we’ve had some brilliant suggestions in so far so keep those requests coming. I’m sure you’ll agree there’s only one song we could possibly use to kick off today’s Themed Thirty. Alleluia!’

I smiled as ‘It’s Raining Men’ by The Weather Girls started. I loved the Themed Thirty. Ricky typically mixed regularly played tracks with some almost-forgotten gems and the choices were always upbeat so perfect for singing along to.

He followed The Weather Girls with some brilliant choices. ‘The Sun and the Rain’ by Madness – a song I’d almost forgotten – followed by Crowded House’s ‘Weather With You’ and ‘Tsunami’ by Manic Street Preachers. The three tracks transported me back in time to school, university and work respectively.

The next track – ‘Sunshine on a Rainy Day’ by Zoe – also took me back to my university days but conjured up a more vivid memory of holidaying in Tenerife with Georgia and her husband Mark in the year Flynn and I got engaged. The heavens had opened and the four of us had bundled into the nearest bar, completely missing the signs for karaoke that night – not our thing at all. By the time we realised, none of us fancied another drenching so we stayed put. After a while, fuelled by alcohol, Georgia and I decided to give it a go. ‘Sunshine on a Rainy Day’ was our prayer for the weather to improve, delivered with gusto but not necessarily the right notes. Neither of us have ever liked being centre of attention, but we let go of our inhibitions in a bar full of strangers and I’d always cherish that special memory of bouncing up and down on the stage with the woman who was my best friend as well as my sister.

My stomach lurched as my memories moved on because that hadn’t been the only special moment that evening. Even though we’d been together for a little over a year, I’d never heard Flynn sing so was convinced the karaoke host had made a mistake by calling his name. But Flynn took my hand and kissed it before holding my gaze like some gallant knight in a fairy tale. I could still remember the tenderness in his beautiful green eyes as he whispered, This is for you, Mel.

Shuddering, I focused back on the radio, trying to push all thoughts of Flynn from my mind. At least Ricky wouldn’t play the weather-related song Flynn had sung to me – not uplifting enough for Themed Thirty.

‘Final Themed Thirty tune coming up,’ Ricky announced a little later. ‘I hesitated about including this one as it’s a bit slower than usual but it’s such an anthem, I’m sure you’ll forgive me. Over to you, Mr Withers.’

My stomach lurched once more. He’d only gone and chosen the one song I couldn’t listen to anymore because it wasn’t Bill Withers I heard singing ‘Ain’t No Sunshine’ – it was Flynn, looking directly at me, serenading me with a velvety smooth singing voice that I’d no idea he possessed.

I jabbed at the radio, changing station, my heart racing. Maybe I should start listening to podcasts in the car instead. Less chance of being floored like this.