Chapter 12 #2
I screwed up my face in recognition that walking home along the roads hadn’t been a great idea, even if there hadn’t been a blizzard raging. ‘Past it. The new house, about three-quarters of the way up.’
Up the steep, potholed track with no pavements.
‘That must be almost two miles along the roads. With no street lights most of the way.’
‘Um.’ I pulled out my phone and checked the map app. ‘Yeah, this says an hour’s walk.’
A lot longer if trudging through snow, in the dark.
‘I’ll drive you, once Bonnie is in bed.’
‘I can’t ask you to do that!’
‘You didn’t. I offered. In return for cleaning up the Arty Party. In fact, not in return for anything. Just because I’m not going to let a friend walk two miles home in a snowstorm.’
‘It’s fine. I’ll call a taxi.’
Will raised his eyebrows. ‘Good luck with that.’
It didn’t take much time on the limited number of taxi apps before I gratefully accepted his offer and settled down to read Bonnie her story.
Oh, it was heavenly. Will had built the fire back up while I muttered insults at my phone and Bonnie drank her milk.
As I leant back on the huge sofa, Bonnie snuggled up against me, absentmindedly stroking Ernest’s ear as he rested his nose on her thigh, I acknowledged the unmistakable glow of joy.
In the gentle lamplight, breathing in the scent of pine logs mingling with Bonnie’s strawberry shampoo, snow glistening through the large windows, the weight of a soft throw over our knees, as we quietly read about Dave losing his beloved toy dog, I thought about how, only a month ago, I would have spent a Thursday night in front of my laptop, or speaking to a client, eating microwaved noodles and pretending this was the life I wanted.
Afterwards, Will firmly banned me from entering the kitchen while he carried his drowsy daughter up to bed, so I took the opportunity to nosy at the pictures on the walls and built-in shelves either side of the fireplace.
They were mainly family photos through from Jordan as a baby to the most recent, the four of them at the beach, proudly standing in a giant hole. Windswept, sun-kissed, relaxed, happy.
I’d never wanted children because that meant trusting a man enough to permanently blend our lives together, which would never happen.
If I decided to raise children alone – to adopt or use a sperm donor – I would need to rely on other people’s help to keep my business thriving.
I had no reliable people. Up until the Speech of Doom, I’d convinced myself I preferred it that way.
People always ended up letting you down.
As I stood in this cosy living room, strewn with a stuffed penguin, glitter pens, a fraying school tie and the other bits and bobs symbolising a life full of love, I forced myself to admit it.
I didn’t prefer it that way. I was simply scared to risk anything different.
Will came back just as I’d picked up a photo of the children with Tilly to inspect it more closely.
Or, rather, to inspect her more closely.
She was leaning against a farm gate, holding Bonnie, who must have been a few weeks old.
Jordan clung to one leg, and Edith the other.
The overall picture was carefree, a flourishing family, the kids in trendy wellies and Tilly in dungarees and a patterned headscarf that oozed country-mum chic.
‘Sorry,’ I said, quickly putting it back on the shelf. ‘I could make an excuse, but I was being nosy.’
‘It’s fine.’ Will came to stand beside me, hands in his pockets. ‘I’d be equally as curious about your family photos.’
‘You must miss her so much,’ I said, because I couldn’t not mention it.
Instead of answering me straightaway, Will took out his phone and held it up to show me the screen.
Rather than the picture of Tilly I’d anticipated – perhaps a wedding photo or when they first met – it was a clear white expanse of snow, a dark outline that when I peered closer turned out to be a car in a ditch.
‘This is Hatherstone Lane, as posted ten minutes ago on the Bigley Facebook page.’
Hatherstone Lane was the larger road leading out of the village. Robin’s Hill was a far tinier offshoot of that.
‘Woah.’
‘A car is never going to make it up to your house tonight.’
I grimaced. ‘I had no idea it was forecast to snow. Let alone this fast. It’s my first winter living outside a city and I’m still getting used to it.’
‘Well, we are very outside a city, here.’ Will smiled. ‘Anyway, my point is that I’d rather not attempt it, if that’s okay. Not when I’m leaving Jordan in charge. I can’t risk skidding into a ditch, or making it up the hill but not down again.’
‘Of course not. Um. I’ll need a minute to figure out what to do. Do you know what B&Bs there are in Bigley?’ I had flipped into Fixer mode, already scrolling my phone for options. ‘There’s a campsite… Oh, but it’s only for tents, so that’s no good… um… hang on…’
‘Alex.’ Will waited for me to tear my eyes off my pointless search. ‘What I was going to say is would you like a glass of wine, seeing as neither of us are going anywhere tonight?’
He looked at me until the gears in my head stopped whirring.
‘I can’t stay here.’ I absolutely could not stay at Will’s house!
‘I don’t think you’ve got much choice.’
‘What about the kids?’
His eyes creased up at the corners. ‘Bonnie’s already asked if you’re staying for a sleepover. They aren’t recent emigrants from the big city so are well used to people getting snowed in. Besides, they’ll be too distracted by school being closed to care.’
‘I really don’t think… I don’t usually…’ I didn’t do ‘sleepovers’. Ever. Let alone with a man I barely knew. ‘I’m not…’
Will pulled his head back. ‘Alex, I have a sofa bed in the study. I wasn’t implying anything. You think I’d invite a woman to stay-stay when my kids are here?’ He shook his head in dismay. ‘This is worse than when I offered you a lift at the doctor’s.’
My eyes grew round as I frantically shook my head back at him. ‘No, I didn’t think that. I swear. I’m just not used to staying with people in any capacity. I have no friends, remember?’
He blew out a sigh. ‘For the record, I wouldn’t have invited you like that whether the kids were here or not.
I mean, not that I don’t think you’re great.
Quite the opposite. Just, I don’t date. Even if I did date, it would take at least an actual date before I even thought…
That’s not true either. It would take many, many dates before I would even begin to contemplate…
Oh boy. This has got super-awkward super-fast.’
I had to laugh at his obvious consternation.
‘Hey, I invited you to the British TV Awards while we were in a GP’s waiting room, remember?
Right after the receptionist broadcasted to the whole building my potential breast cancer.
I in no way misinterpreted your very kind invitation to avoid certain death by trying to walk home.
It never crossed my mind that this was a creepy way to lure me into staying over. I trust you far more than that.’
With a jolt, I realised this was true. I trusted Will. Me. Who didn’t even trust her own family. Who hadn’t trusted the man she was dating for seven years enough to tell him about her untrustworthy family.
‘So, thank you for your invitation. I gratefully accept. And I absolutely understand you’re not offering anything more than friendship.
Which is perfect, because if you did, I’d have to turn you down, and who wants to be the heartless cow who rejects the heartbroken widower’s first attempt at finding love again? ’
‘Being rejected is one thing,’ Will said, managing a wry smile.
‘Being rejected by the UK’s loneliest loser is a blow no man should have to take.
But,’ he carried on as I relished the mini-thrill of having someone to swap affectionate digs with, ‘I didn’t answer your previous question about Tilly, because as I said last week, it’s complicated and not something I talk about.
I want to explain properly, but I’d like a glass of wine while I do. ’
The thrill softened into a warm glow.
‘Okay, so how about you get the sofa bed sorted while I finish the kitchen, then we can enjoy the wine?’
‘Perfect.’ Will nodded.
As I finished the washing up, wiped down the surfaces, tidied up a pile of homework sheets about the digestive system and relocated a giant pair of boy’s school shoes onto the rack in the hallway, it did indeed feel pretty close to perfect.