Chapter 37
37
On Thursday morning, I stood by the window in the empty bedroom opposite mine. Being at the front of the house, it gave me a better view of the driveway so I could see Flynn arriving. My stomach was churning from a combination of seeing him again and playing over and over in my head all the difficult conversations we might have today.
Rosie had told me that Flynn had initially said he was backed up with work and regretted he couldn’t help her, but when she’d mentioned that I’d specifically recommended him, he told her to give him an hour and he’d see what he could do. He rang back half an hour later and said the boat house shouldn’t be a problem and he could probably get a team on it by the end of next week but he’d need to meet me and look around the hall before he could commit to the refurbishment. Today was the only day he was free this week to do that.
Rosie had riding lessons all day and Oliver was at work but, as I was project managing the whole build, it was me he needed to see anyway. If he was interested in taking on the project, he could meet Rosie and Oliver one evening.
I tried to imagine what his reaction had been to hearing Rosie saying I’d recommended him. It could be anything from she’s got a nerve, only considering me because she’s desperate through to thinking I finally wanted to talk and only felt comfortable doing that in a work setting.
It was a miserable day with grey skies, steady rain and a drop in temperature. I shivered and rubbed my hands up and down my arms in an attempt to warm up. A white van emerged from behind the trees and I released a long shuddery breath before making my way along the hall and down the stairs. How would he play this? Would he be completely professional and only talk business – quite likely after I walked away from him at Mum’s wake – or would he try to steer the conversation towards something more personal again?
The doorbell rang, making my heart pound. Another deep breath and I opened the door. I knew I should smile and welcome him inside but all I could do was stare at him. He really did look better than he ever had but there was still that vulnerability in his eyes which had been so endearing outside The Hardy Herdwick the night we met when he clung on to Edgar the elephant. I wondered if he still had my soft toy. I’d left it behind in my haste to pack and hadn’t felt like I could ask him to return it. No, of course he wouldn’t have kept it. He’d likely donated or binned it when he’d moved house, if not before.
‘Coffee?’ I asked, registering that one of us was going to have to speak eventually.
‘No, thanks. I’ve squeezed this in and I’ve not got a very big window so I could do with cracking on.’
Very business-like so I took his lead on that, pushing aside an unexpected sensation of disappointment.
‘Of course. Come in and we’ll go through the kitchen and out the back to the boat house.’
I was already wearing my coat and walking boots and had my hard hat in my hand, as did Flynn, so we were good to go. He followed me in silence down the hall through the east wing and into the kitchen where I unlocked the side door. Silence remained as we set off across the wet lawn. I couldn’t bear it. I needed to apologise to him for so many things but where could I start? Sorry I didn’t call you when you gave me your number. Sorry for walking away at the wake. Sorry for walking away seven years ago. Sorry for everything I said and did. The list went on and on and with every fresh reason to apologise, that ball of emotion flexed.
‘This is the boat house,’ I said a little pointlessly when we reached it. ‘Rosie forwarded you the plans?’
‘Yes. She said you’ve already had the materials delivered.’
‘Some are round the other side and the rest are in a storage shed near the house. Dougie’s team secured the roof so you’re safe to go inside.’
He put his hard hat on and wandered round the perimeter before going inside where he removed a small notepad and scribbled some notes in it. When he’d got what he needed, he asked me to show him the rest of the materials so we crossed the garden towards the end of the west wing where the storage sheds were and I stood in the rain as he checked on the materials, scribbling more notes in his book.
I’d hoped he’d take the professional stance but now I wasn’t so sure it was the best approach. It was too awkward and uncomfortable, as though we’d only just met and taken an instant dislike to each other.
‘Got what you need?’ I asked, fighting hard to keep my tone friendly when he emerged from the shed.
‘I do. Shouldn’t be a problem to get some lads onto it fairly quickly, but I’ll confirm a date later.’
‘That’s great news. Thank you. What do you want to see in the hall?’
‘All of it. Give me a tour from the attic to the cellar and talk me through the plans but not in too much detail. I don’t have time at the moment. It’s just to give me a feel for the size and scope at this point.’
I led him across the back of the house and in through the kitchen door where we ditched our hard hats and wet coats. Staircases to the attic and cellar were behind two separate doors beside the kitchen. Flynn suggested we start at the top and work our way down.
‘Some of the floorboards need replacing so you need to be careful up here,’ I said when we reached the top.
As I walked Flynn through the plans, I had to keep reminding myself not to get carried away with the detail. He’d made it clear that time was an issue and I didn’t want to detain him longer than necessary for both our sakes. He scribbled in his notepad, shone his torch here and there and knocked on several walls as we toured the attic rooms before descending to the first floor.
‘Most of the rooms in the west wing are empty now. Darrowby’s cleared them and some pieces will get restored and returned with others going into an auction.’ I pushed open my bedroom door. ‘This is my luxury suite.’
‘You live here?’ Flynn looked surprised.
‘Yeah. I assumed Mark would have told you.’
‘Mark doesn’t tell me anything about you.’
‘Because you don’t want to hear it,’ I said, jokingly.
‘No. Because he knows you don’t want me to know anything.’
His voice was gentle with a tinge of sadness which was echoed in his eyes as he held my gaze. I hated how much I’d hurt him. He hadn’t deserved any of it.
‘So, erm… I use this room and there’s a Jack-and-Jill bathroom between this and the final bedroom which I use as an office. I was going to rent somewhere but I was struggling to find anywhere suitable to live and work. Oliver and Rosie said I could stay here as long as was practical. It makes it easier although it does sometimes get lonely on my own in such a big room in a huge building and…’
I tailed off, no idea why I was telling Flynn this and especially letting him know I was on my own and occasionally lonely. What was I thinking?
The tour continued and I stayed succinct and focused on the building project only, but thoughts kept pushing into my head about how amazing Flynn was to agree to come here when it couldn’t be easy for him to be around me. He could have said no to Rosie. Or he could have turned up and been arsey with me, demanding we talk before he’d even consider taking on the work. But that wasn’t Flynn’s style.
Eventually it was time to go down into the cellar. I opened the wooden door and flicked on the light at the top of the staircase to illuminate our way. There was a thicker and older door at the bottom, which I pushed open. Stepping into the cellar, I groped along the wall, trying to find the light switch. I eventually felt it in an illogical place round the corner and the lights flickered for a moment before settling into a dim yellow glow. Remembering what Oliver had said about the door being sticky, I turned to tell Flynn to prop it open.
‘Can you just?—’
But I was too late and the door had closed behind him.
‘Can I just what?’ Flynn asked.
‘I was going to ask you to prop the door open. Oliver says it sticks.’
He grimaced before pressing down on the handle and attempting to pull the door towards him, but it didn’t budge. He tried again several times, but to no avail.
‘You’re winding me up, right?’ I asked, grasping at straws as panic gripped me at the prospect of being locked in a cold, dark cellar with my ex-husband and all our demons.
‘I wouldn’t do that. Feel free to try.’
I did, rattling the handle with increasing desperation. This wasn’t good. Not good at all.