Chapter 1
SHE HEARD HIS small footsteps padding across the bedroom floor before she felt the touch of his fingers as he gently brushed the hair from her forehead.
‘Wakey wakey,’ he whispered, leaning across to plant a kiss on her cheek before racing off excitedly, disappearing back through the door.
The sound of china and crockery rattling precariously against a tray made her turn, just as Raffy stepped into the room. The pride emblazoned across his face was heart-melting. Suddenly shy, he grinned as he brought the tray over.
‘You brought me breakfast in bed?’ She took the tray and placed it on the duvet beside her, scooping Raffy up and giving him a hug as he collapsed into a fit of sheepish giggles.
‘Happy birthday!’ he said. ‘I did it myself.’ This much was obvious: there was no one in the house but them.
Helena felt her heart swell as she scooted over in the bed, letting Raffy snuggle up next to her.
‘I can’t believe it! What have we got here?’ She surveyed her spoils. There was half a jug of cold milk, the rest having spilled during the journey upstairs. There were two bowls of cornflakes and two spoons.
‘I didn’t make you a cup of tea, because I’m not allowed.’ Raffy smiled. ‘Is it a good surprise?’ he asked. His deep blue eyes, with their unusual flecks of gold, searched for approval, a frown creasing his pale forehead.
‘The very best. Thank you.’ Helena lent over and kissed him, laughing as she ruffled the mound of springy brown curls that lay in their usual unruly mop on the top of his head.
She was touched at his thoughtfulness, picturing him waking early and tiptoeing down the stairs, standing on a chair to reach the cupboards.
‘This is the most wonderful birthday present I could have possibly asked for!’
*
‘Right, little rascal, let’s get you ready for school,’ she said when they’d finished their breakfast, jumping out of bed to chase Raffy along the landing and into his room.
She rummaged in the white chest of drawers, adorned with peeling Toy Story stickers, for a clean pair of pants and socks.
She passed them over to Raffy who was bouncing excitedly on the bed. ‘Take your pyjamas off.’
‘Can I wear my Buzz costume?’ he begged.
‘When you get home from school.’
‘Okay,’ Raffy sighed. If he had his way he would wear it every second of every day, he was completely obsessed, his room a homage to Woody, Buzz and their friends.
Helena pulled her hair into a ponytail, got dressed and brushed her teeth, making sure Raffy had done his properly too. She got his packed lunch ready and, when she was sure he had everything he needed for the day, she drove him down the road to school.
Trying not to feel self-conscious as she wove her way through the gaggles of mums chatting in their usual groups in the playground, she called ‘Love you!’ as Raffy scampered into the school.
She didn’t know how everyone had managed to make friends except for her.
Raffy turned and beamed a gap-toothed smile, looking endearingly dishevelled, as always, with his shirt collar sticking bolt upright, one sock up and the other already down by his ankle.
‘To infinity and beyond…!’ he cried his usual response as he scurried off to his classroom.
*
A little over seven hours later Buzz Lightyear bounded down the stairs with the enthusiasm of a Labrador puppy. ‘Ready!’ He beamed as he raced over to the backdoor and jumped on his bike. He zoomed down the sloping garden, using his feet as brakes, making silvery tracks through the grass.
‘Wait for me!’ Helena called. She raced after Raffy, catching up with him at the bottom of the garden by the enormous rhododendron bush, an exploded firework of scarlet trumpets.
It was one of the few plants she had inherited in the garden that she had managed to keep alive.
Helena, despite her best intentions, was the opposite of green fingered.
She opened the rickety gate and helped Raffy steer out onto the track that led to the road. She laughed as he pedalled along.
The air was warm and humid. Helena could feel its dampness as the air condensed against her skin. A canopy of heavy grey clouds hung impossibly low in the sky. ‘I think it might rain,’ she warned. ‘We might have to make a run for it any minute…’
They entered the public meadow that lay hidden to one side of the village green.
It was Raffy and Helena’s favourite spot; they came most days after school to play on the playground that lay tucked away in the corner.
The grass was carpeted with a layer of velvet petals that had fallen from trees heavy with white blossom.
A sprinkle of dandelion seeds sailed through the air like miniature parachutes.
Helena followed Raffy over to the playground, his bike already thrown to one side, spokes spinning.
She smiled at Nathalie, one of the mums in the village, who was often there with her gaggle of three.
Her blonde hair was tied up in a redundant crimson scrunchie: most of it seemed to have escaped.
A mobile with a neon pink cover was clenched between her ear and her shoulder as she chatted away.
Yellow and purple beaded earrings hung from her earlobes like swinging trapezes.
She wore an oversized Micky Mouse T-shirt and leggings.
Helena felt boring next to her in her plain white V-neck and jeans.
Nathalie’s two girls were playing on the slide while her son played on his DS, completely absorbed.
Helena knew her well enough to say hi to, but that was about it.
She often worried that she and Noah hadn’t really integrated properly into the village since they had moved here, let alone into the school community, but Noah was an introvert, he kept himself to himself, and Helena agreed it was unfair to disturb his peace and quiet after a busy working week.
Raffy greeted the girls, who were at his school, then raced over to the swings. As Helena pushed Raffy higher and higher, peals of laughter filled the air. She held him up so he could reach the monkey bars, and they bounced up and down on the see-saw as he chattered away about his day.
As they turned back up the track that led away from the village green, Helena noticed Margery, the eccentric older lady who lived next door, walking towards them. As always, she had her three yapping terriers with her, nipping at her heels in a tangle of leads.
‘Afternoon,’ she called. ‘And how are we today, young man?’ Margery beamed a lopsided grin at Raffy. She looked uncannily similar to Mrs Trunchbull.
‘Fine thanks,’ Raffy replied, jumping off his bike to stroke Trevor, Tammy and Terry. ‘Hello dogs!’ Their sandpapery tongues covered Raffy’s hands in sharp licks as their tails wagged furiously.
‘Looks like rain,’ Margery said, glancing upwards with the air of a mystic sage, the whiskery silver hairs of her moustache catching the afternoon light.
‘I hope you don’t get caught,’ Helena said.
‘And the washing is out,’ Margery sighed. ‘Too much to do, too much to do…’ she sang to herself as she continued down the lane. ‘Come on Trevor, NO! Leave that horse poo, it’s FILTHY! I said leave it. Silly boy…’ She tailed off, wittering away to the dogs, as she so often did.
Helena turned to watch her. Her bottom was approximately twice the width of her shoulders, encased in khaki trousers which were tucked haphazardly into green wellies.
Her silvery-brown hair was piled up into a sort of chignon on the top of her head, like a geisha.
There was something completely unabashed about her, and Helena admired her for it.
She wished she was a bit more like Margery.
*
Later that evening, as Helena tucked Raffy up in bed, stroking his corkscrew curls and watching his breathing become slow and heavy as he drifted off to sleep, she thought back to the moment she had met his father, Noah, and the first time he had introduced her to his rosy-cheeked, beaming toddler.
The psychic had been right. Had she had her own biological child, she couldn’t imagine it would have been possible to love him or her more than she loved Raffy.
He was everything to her. Noah and Raffy, father and son, were all she could have hoped for.
Their arrival in her life four years ago had been the most life-changing turn of events, and she was grateful beyond words that the fates had finally conspired to make it happen.
A tiny part of her even wondered if her mother had been responsible for their paths crossing.
That night, the storm that had been brewing all afternoon roared into life. Helena drifted off to sleep listening to the rain pelting down on the skylights, rattling like tiny balls of glass.
In the early hours of the morning a change in temperature woke her as the covers lifted. She felt Noah slide under the duvet.
‘You’re back!’ She smiled sleepily as he leant over to kiss her. His body, bare skinned apart from his boxers, felt cool against her warm skin as he pressed up against her, spooning the back of her body.
‘Happy birthday,’ he murmured. ‘Did you miss me?’
‘Of course,’ she said, tingling as he kissed her gently on the nape of her neck.
He ran the tip of his tongue lightly across the skin of her back, sliding the straps of her silk nightdress off her shoulders, kissing her and pulling her closer towards him, showing her exactly how much he had missed her.
As Helena relaxed back into his arms, listening to the dramatic booms of thunder echo above her, losing herself in sensation, she decided that, as birthdays went, it had been a pretty good one.
She could never have known, within a matter of months, just how much this perfect life would change.