Chapter 3
New Forest
The unwanted counselling session over, Beth struggled to escape Southampton. Two supersized cruise liners had arrived at the docks at the same time, generating a huge increase in traffic. Taxis and coaches queued everywhere and, combined with roadworks, caused a massive transport snarl-up in all directions. It took over an hour to break free of the city. She let out a huge sigh of relief as she darted onto a remote back road through the forest. Home soon.
Around a particularly sharp bend, a pheasant dashed across the road. Beth swerved to miss it, clipping a pothole. An ominous whomp, whomp, whomp of rubber against metal filled the air. Cursing under her breath, she pulled onto the verge.
It’s fine. I can change a tyre.
The wheel nuts disagreed. An exasperating ten minutes passed, until she growled in frustration and dropped the wrench to the ground with a loud clang. A harsh clatter of wings erupted overhead as startled crows launched from the uppermost branches of the trees lining the road. As their angry cawing died away, a lone squirrel rippled over a fallen log and darted out of sight, leaving the forest eerily silent. The normal bustle of small animals in the undergrowth was absent. Even the smell of the forest, of wet earth, moss and bark was not as comforting as usual. Beth stared around, an icy shiver scuttling down her spine.
The deep voice came out of nowhere. ‘Hello.’
Whirling around, dropping into an instinctive fight-ready stance, her weight balanced, she raised her fists. A large man stood a few metres away. Beth’s heart performed an impressive drum solo finale that almost crashed through her ribs.
Where the hell did he come from?
He was tall and slim, too slim really, with very broad shoulders. He gave every appearance of being innocuous, even though the trouser leg of his three-piece suit was torn at the knee. He smiled. ‘Can I help?’
Swamped with panicked adrenaline, Beth’s immediate thought was, It’s Hugh Jackman.
He wasn’t Hugh Jackman. His thick head of hair wasn’t black, for starters. Mind you, neither is Hugh’s these days . More of a polished chestnut, silvered at the temples. Even so, he definitely had the look of a mature, if slightly battered, Wolverine. A faint scar ran across the bridge of his nose and through one eyebrow. None of his features individually fit the classically good-looking mould, yet, somehow, they worked.
He waited for her to finish examining him, then lifted both hands palm out in the universal sign of surrender. ‘I’m not an axe murderer. Honest.’
‘That’s what all axe murderers say.’
A smile ghosted across his face. ‘I wouldn’t know about that. Not being an axe murderer.’
An air of sadness lurked in his eyes. She resisted the urge to offer him a comforting cup of tea. Mainly because she didn’t have one, but also because you couldn’t be too careful with strangers on secluded forest back roads. Don’t be ridiculous. He isn’t dangerous. Her hormones, like overzealous regency mamas, had already booked the church, invited too many guests and eaten cake. They had only ever reacted this way once before, but Beth and her hormones didn’t speak about Paul anymore.
‘It’s in the guidebook. Axe Murdering for Beginners. Page 1,’ she muttered.
‘I’ll be sure to read it.’ He nodded towards her car. ‘In the meantime, do you need a hand?’
She relaxed her stance a fraction, her teeth chattering as the February wind blew through her. ‘I know how to change a tyre. I just can’t undo the nuts.’
‘They’ve probably been put on with one of those power sprocket thingies at the garage.’
Beth raised an eyebrow. ‘Power sprocket thingies?’
‘It’s a technical term.’ That ghost of a smile returned.
Beth wanted him to keep smiling; it did nice things to his eyes. What is wrong with me? She gave herself a shake. ‘I can manage.’
‘Sure. Perhaps you can help me, then. I took a back road at Lyndhurst to avoid the traffic and now my satnav is on the blink.’ He gestured further down the road. ‘My car is way back that way. I started walking, hoping to pick up a signal on my phone. No luck so far. Can we do a trade? How about I change that tyre – assuming I can without a sprocket thingy – and you tell me how to get to Brockenhurst?’
‘Your satnav is probably fine. The New Forest has mini Bermuda Triangles all over the place. No phone signal, no 5G, nothing.’
‘I didn’t think such a thing was possible in this day and age.’
‘Most of the towns and villages are fine, but the more remote sections might as well not exist. It’s all part of the facade of idyllic, rural charm that brings the tourists in.’
‘Facade?’
She shrugged. ‘You know. The general perception that everyone here is rolling in money and life is perfect. It’s not true. Anyway,’ Beth blew on her hands to warm them, ‘if you want to trade changing a tyre for directions that suits me.’
He approached the car, his gait uneven. The leg with the torn trouser was giving him trouble. He shrugged out of his jacket and held it out. ‘Here, put this on. You’re shivering.’
‘I don’t—’
‘Please. It’s making me feel cold just looking at you.’
She stared at the soft blue fabric.
He twitched the jacket towards her. ‘I get that you are super independent, but my life is currently falling apart. Believe it or not, helping you will help me.’
Beth rolled her eyes and took the jacket. Spicy cologne teased her nose. Slipping her arms into the sleeves felt like being wrapped in a warm hug. From a cautious distance, she watched the Wolverine twist the first wheel nut free, his shirt stretching tight across his shoulders, and racked her brain for something to say. ‘Does your life falling apart have something to do with the hole in your trousers?’
The laugh he gave was short and bitter. ‘Yes and no. An unplanned encounter with sharp shrubbery.’
‘And what’s in Brockenhurst?’
‘Nothing. I’m not stopping. I just know the rest of my way from there. Geographically speaking, I mean. As for the rest of my life, that’s anyone’s guess.’ He pulled the wheel from the hub and looked up. ‘I have no idea why I told you that. Total overshare. Sorry.’
She shook her head. ‘Forget it. If anyone understands life falling apart, it’s me.’
‘Really?’
‘Yup. My husband left me. My step-teens hate me. They live with me full-time, by the way, and don’t yet know their dad has no intention of ever coming back. My daughter and the dog are not far behind them. And don’t get me started on the donkey.’ That was astonishingly easy to say out loud. Counselling, huh, who knew?
He gave a low whistle.
‘Exactly. Jane, my counsellor, seems to think that all I need is some herbal tea and a bit of meditation.’
‘Herbal tea and meditation can accomplish a lot, but maybe not that much.’ He wiggled the tyre at her. ‘I’m assuming you have a spare somewhere.’
Beth opened the boot and hauled out the spare.
He eased the damaged tyre into the space left behind. ‘If you’re lucky, that might be repairable.’ He took the spare, his hands brushing hers. Static electricity sparked. Beth’s skin tingled. Her eyes jumped to his. Unable to break with his gaze, her pulse raced. All he had to do was lean in and…
‘Did she suggest anything else?’
Beth stepped back. ‘Who?’
‘Jane.’
She leaned against the car. ‘That I should get out more and stop overthinking things.’
‘Sounds like good advice.’
‘Ha! Maybe. She also said I need to stop being defensive and let people help me.’
His eyes danced. ‘She might be onto something there. And you’re already taking her advice.’
‘Complete strangers don’t count. She meant I should make friends with people in my village.’
He tightened the last wheel nut and stood up. ‘How come you don’t have friends? You seem… nice.’
‘I have friends. They’re just not local. I moved here because of my husband. He was born here. I’m his second wife. It’s complicated.’
‘Ah.’ He leaned on the car next to her. ‘Maybe Jane has a point. Single parenting is tough enough with support. Is your step-teens’ biological mother on the scene?’
‘She’s dead. If she wasn’t, I wouldn’t be in this mess, because she’d still be married to Paul and… oh.’ Beth’s lower lip wobbled. ‘Sorry. That makes it sound like it’s her fault and I didn’t mean that. It isn’t, of course it isn’t. I… I just…’ She willed away the tears prickling behind her eyes. ‘I’m the only parent those poor kids have and I’ll be damned if I let them down.’ Her voice dropped to a whisper. ‘It’s hard.’
‘My dad always said that when stuff is hard, it helps to focus on the small stuff. You know? Just keep doing what you can and eventually things sort themselves out.’
Silence fell.
Beth sighed. ‘Now I’ve overshared.’
‘Nah. Don’t worry about it. Your problems have put some of my crap into perspective. And it’s not as if we know each other. We’ll never meet again after this.’
‘True.’ The idea of not seeing him again brought with it a tsunami of sadness.
‘Now.’ He stood up, brisk and business-like. ‘Brockenhurst.’
Beth’s hormones got down on their knees and begged her not to let him go. ‘Yes. Brockenhurst. It’s down this road, second on the left and straight on until you hit the green. You can’t miss it. Watch out for the ponies. They’re gorgeous, but a total menace. The deer, too. Other than that, you should be fine.’ She shrugged out of the jacket, already missing its warmth, and held it out. ‘Thank you and good luck.’