Chapter Twenty-Four
Twenty-Four
Sara makes me a tea the next morning and suggests we hop in the hot tub before the others wake up.
Freddie’s bedroom door is ajar so I assume he must be out running.
But in the snow? More has settled overnight.
The news is saying it’s the most snow the area has seen in nearly twenty years. Maybe he’s just walking.
We get dressed into our swimsuits and return, me with my milky, sweet tea, Sara with her black coffee.
I climb in and perch my mug on the side, letting the bubbles wrap around me.
Last night, Sam used a broom to brush the foot of snow off the lid and Freddie shovelled out a path from the back doors so we could use it safely during our party later.
Sara has a sheepish look on her face.
“What’s up then?” I say.
“Why do you think something is up?”
“Because you made me a tea.”
She narrows her eyes. “I always make you tea!”
This makes me laugh. “Literally when?”
“I’ve definitely made you a tea before.”
I press again. “Seriously, what’s up?”
Sara scrunches her nose. “I feel bad. I didn’t articulate things very well yesterday because it was the first time I’d said them out loud. It was the first time I’d really admitted any of my worries even to myself.”
“But why do you feel bad?”
“Because I don’t blame you, obviously. It’s not your fault. Of course it isn’t. But it was your break-up that’s catapulted me into this weird, panic-induced brain fog.” She sighs, taking a sip of her coffee. “Something feels off and I can’t put my finger on it.”
“Between you and Mike?” I ask, hoping it isn’t our friendship group. Not that her having problems with her fiancé is any better.
She nods, her spare hand skirting the top of the bubbles like she’s trying to round them up. “Like I said, I can’t put my finger on it. It might be all in my head. You know what it’s like up there.” She taps on her head for effect.
For as long as I’ve known Sara, she has been a powerhouse of confidence and attitude.
Outwardly, she comes across as formidable.
This beautiful, tall, strong, independent woman who refuses to be knocked down.
I once surmised that she dated men she knew would hurt her eventually because it meant she was right to not let her guard down, which is her comfort zone.
When she met Mike initially, she thought he was too sweet, too gentle.
She swore to me that he couldn’t handle her but that isn’t the case at all…
She can’t handle him. And now she’s let her walls down and her world feels out of control.
Having lived with her for nearly three years, I have seen first-hand how she spirals into self-sabotaging ways and anxiety-driven decision making.
I’m not quite sure how to comfort her. I don’t want to tell her not to listen to her own instincts. “Are you happy with him?” I ask instead.
She nods. “Yes. So happy. I’ve never felt so safe and relaxed with someone in my whole life.
Not even during my childhood.” She takes another sip then puts her mug down before looking up at the blue sky peeking through the branches above us.
“I’m absolutely terrified. My brain is telling me my heart is stupid and not to trust it. ”
Something about the way she says it makes me chuckle. “Your brain is quite mean, though.”
She snorts. “Cynical, Hattie. My brain is cynical.”
“And your heart isn’t stupid. It’s bigger and more beautiful than you let on.”
“Ugh. That was gross.” She pauses, chewing on her lip. “There’s something I was meaning to ask you, by the way. Something that keeps me awake at night and I don’t know…”
“What is it?”
She tips her head back down to look me in the eye.
“Did I miss something? With you and Adam? It’s just none of it adds up to me.
You know he was always kind of a secondary friend to me.
Sometimes, near the end, I felt like things were off with him and I couldn’t put my finger on it. He was trying too hard at something.”
I take a second to consider her words. “I’m not sure what you’re getting at really.”
“Was he good to you? You know, when it was just the two of you.”
“He wasn’t bad to me.”
“But he wasn’t always good?”
“It was ok,” I say.
Sara’s eyes go round. “What did he do?” she whispers.
“Well, that’s the thing. He didn’t really do anything. He’d just shut down for days and I’d spend the whole time trying to make amends for things I wasn’t even convinced were that bad.”
“He gaslit you?” she asks, her voice raising a pitch.
“I don’t know if that’s what it was.”
“I’m so sorry I didn’t know you weren’t happy.”
I laugh at this. It feels absurd to hear it out loud. “I’m sorry I didn’t know I wasn’t happy. I’m sorry because if he hadn’t have left me, I’d probably still be trying really bloody hard to make him happy so that I could eventually be happy too.”
“Shit, Hattie. I had no idea. I just thought he could be an arse sometimes.”
“I thought he was the love of my life, so I guess we’re both idiots.”
We descend into a comfortable silence after this.
We need a moment to let life sink in, to really feel it as we listen to the gentle birdsong and the squirrels shooting along branches, occasionally knocking one so much it rattles, and snow falls into the tub, melting amongst the hot water.
At one point, there’s even a muntjac that strolls right up to the lodge, nibbling on the overgrowth.
It’s not even aware of us until someone pulls the sliding doors open, then it shoots away and is gone in a flash.
I turn to see my curly headed cousin squinting at me. “It’s bright out here,” he says.
Last night, Sam took care of Dylan, even letting him take his bed. Sam set up on the floor using blankets. Which good – he should feel bad for forgetting him. If that means suffering for one night, then so be it. Dylan could’ve died out there in the snow. Not that Dylan made good choices either.
“And how is my idiot cousin today?” I sing, as he comes to join us. “Where did you get those trunks from?”
“Oh, Freddie ran down to my car and back. Carried it back for me. Isn’t that kind?”
“Isn’t it abandoned about three miles away?” Sara asks, glancing at me disbelievingly.
“Yep. One way. In the snow too,” he adds. “Lucky it was my backpack, so he didn’t have to drag a suitcase.”
“Wait up,” I say, putting my hand up. “You’re telling me Freddie got up this morning and ran three miles to your car in the snow and then back again just to get your bag?”
Dylan shrugs. “I told Sam I was worried as my meds were in there. And I can’t go more than a few days without them,” he explains.
I vaguely remember him saying he was on anti-anxiety medication.
There’s a twinge in my stomach, and I think it might be guilt that I didn’t think of that last night.
“Sam must’ve told Freddie because I woke up half an hour ago with my bag by the door. ”
“Oh,” is all I can say.
Freddie can’t do things like that and then complain he feels like the villain all the time. Honestly. Villains don’t do things like that. They’re not selfless.
Dylan joins us in the hot tub and catches up with Sara. It must’ve been years since they crossed paths last – probably when he crashed our flat party in Brighton.
When Sam finally joins us too, we all cheer, “Happy birthday!”
Priya rushes outside, already in her apron to get to work on the festive food she has planned, to join in and Freddie leans in the doorway, arms folded across his chest, hands tucked under his armpits to keep warm. His hair is damp from his post-run shower.
I think about how smooth it was as I ran my fingers through it last night. I wonder if I’ll get a chance to thank him properly for his heroic efforts this morning.
As if he heard my train of thought, his eyes flit to mine.
My tummy skydives but I don’t look away.
No, not anymore. I take him on, staring back unashamedly until he smirks and turns to head back into the house.
*
A few hours later and I’m helping Priya in the kitchen.
She’s got a whole array of party food to make.
I offered to buy the frozen stuff from Iceland, but Priya found that offer highly offensive.
She’s got me chopping massive tomatoes and adding slices of mozzarella with a pinch of sea salt.
Meanwhile, she’s caramelising onions for something else to do with cheese.
I can home cook but I’m nothing compared to Priya. So, I listen to instructions and do as I’m told.
Sam is decorating in a questionable style. We didn’t bring much other than banners and random crap we already had stored away. I’m pretty sure we’re too old for paper plates and cups now but Priya said they can be recycled, and it saves us having to stack the dishwasher later on.
She seems to be in better spirits now and has noticeably been drinking less. I know she had an hour video call with Izzy and Ollie yesterday. I walked in during and quietly snuck back out so as not to disturb them.
Once she’s finished most of the food prep, Priya pounces on Sam and me, sharing all the photos Izzy has sent her these past few days. They’re basically all the same, except he seems to go through more outfit changes than a drag queen in a pantomime.
There are three more bags of Boobleys in the fridge at least.
I do wonder what she plans to do with it all. But like she said before, I shouldn’t ask questions I don’t want the answers to.
*
At some point in the afternoon, Sara is showing Dylan how to stack the wood right to light the fire.
She’s weirdly good at things like this. She tells me it’s all because she did Girlguiding, but so did I and they never taught me how to light a fire.
I hear a scraping sound outside and peek out the windows surrounding the front door to see Freddie out there with just a t-shirt and jeans on, shovelling snow from around the car. He’s made two big mounds either side.
The way his arms tense and flex, I’m not sure how long I just stand there and stare. But I shake myself out of it as Sam calls, “Hatter, can you help me get the fireworks out the car?”
I snort, assuming he’s joking. “What?”
“What?”
“What?”
He laughs, stopping in front of me. “What’s so funny?”
“You haven’t actually just left fireworks in the car these past few nights, right?”
He shrugs. “What’s wrong with that?”
“I don’t actually know. I feel like there’s a hazard there somewhere.”
“Maybe if it was hot outside.”
I pull my boots on by the door and decide to forgo a coat as I’m only nipping to the car with him.
I follow him out. Sam is saying something to Freddie already as I emerge at the top of the steps.
They’re laughing which, again, is a weird sighting for me.
I can’t help but smile at the two of them getting along.
Freddie notices me, raising his brows as I put my first foot on the top step. He says, “Careful…” and some other words too but I don’t hear them.
As if in slow motion, my foot loses all traction below me. And then I’m looking at the sky. There’s pain. But it takes me a second to work out where exactly.
Before I know what’s happening, both Freddie and Sam are crouched beside me. They’re asking me questions, but my ears are still ringing so I clench my eyes closed and will it away.
A rough, warm hand grazes my cheek and without even looking, I know it’s Freddie because Sam’s hands are much softer.
Slowly, his voice comes back to me. “Hattie, when you’re ready, I need you to tell me where the pain is.” He sounds calm and sure and yet worried all in one breath.
I peek one eye open. The sun behind his head is actually blinding. As if he works this out, he moves to block it out entirely. But now it looks like he has a ring of light around his head, which makes me chuckle, because he’s no fucking angel.
Freddie isn’t laughing though, and my reaction has him scowling even more.
“Where’s the pain?” he asks again, softly, persistent.
I groan. “Butt and head.”
“Right.”
“Who’s a butthead?” Sam asks, coming back to join us. He drapes a blanket over me and frowns at Freddie as they seem to share thoughts telepathically.
“Right. Can you feel your fingers and toes?” Freddie asks.
I wiggle both. “Yep.”
“How does your head feel?”
“Bashed.”
“And your vision? How many fingers?” He holds his hand up.
I roll my eyes because in hindsight, this is all very silly and I’m fine. “Three.”
He nods, appeased. “I’m going to pick you up and carry you back inside.”
I can’t hide a nervous laugh which bubbles up and out of my throat before I can stop it. Sam gives me a strange glance, but I assume it’s because he thinks I’m delirious. Honestly, I need more control.
“I’ll get her legs, you grab her shoulders,” Sam suggests, manoeuvring to my bottom end which… WHAT?!
Freddie just shakes his head at his brother. “I can manage.”
“Really? She’s quite tall.”
“Trust me. I’ll be fine.” He swoops one hand under my shoulders, the other just below my butt, then hoists me up without even making a sound. I’ve never been carried like this in my life. This is for petite girls and girls who weigh barely anything.
I’ve always assumed tall girls carry themselves.
“Arms around my neck,” he orders, as he works very hard not to make this a thing. I can see the glint in his eyes though, the slight quirk of his lips. He wants to do something silly, but he can’t. Not here. Not now.
Same goes for me. I want to run a thumb up the back of his neck, make him shudder.
He smells salty from shovelling snow, a shimmer of sweat on his brow.
He strides up the stairs, into the lodge and places me carefully on the sofa.
It’s all a bit over the top. I’m fine. I’m absolutely capable of getting up and walking this off. And to prove as much, I leap up the second he puts me down and shimmy. Except, I don’t shimmy at all. I actually end up collapsing on the sofa again like a total fool.
“Do me a favour, storm cloud,” he says, using a low tone so the others can’t hear. “Don’t make this difficult. I’m going to make you a drink and you’re going to sit there until you feel ok again.”
“Thank you,” I call at his long, lean back as he heads to the kitchen and puts the kettle on.
Sara is watching me curiously but if she has something to say, she keeps it to herself.
Meanwhile, Sam is piling fireworks up in the lodge right by the radiator. I feel like he needs to be supervised. Freddie must be on the same wavelength as me as he calls to his brother, “Maybe store them outside, Sam.”
To which Sam huffs and begins moving them back to the porch.
Freddie glances my way, catching me staring at his gorgeously rugged face. He smirks and shakes his head as if he heard my train of thought.