Chapter 6 #2
He sat staring at his hands for a moment or two, lost in thought, his linen shirt crumpled already. He looked even more handsome than ever when he was brooding. She pulled him towards her and he lowered himself on top of her, pressing the full weight of his body against her.
‘Where’s Raffy?’ she said.
‘Watching cartoons.’ He ground his hips gently into hers, she knew exactly what he had in mind.
‘We can’t… he might come up.’
She smiled as he kissed her, a spine-tingling, lingering kiss. She wanted nothing more than for him to rip off her clothes and kiss her all over but she pushed him away, just in case.
‘Right. I’m up. Let me get showered and then we can go out for some fresh air.’
*
They walked hand in hand, Raffy speeding ahead on his scooter.
She tried to put all thoughts of the previous night out of her mind and enjoy her surroundings.
Being out in nature was her happy place.
It was one of those days where the world seemed saturated with warmth and bright light.
The heat from the sun beating down created a visible haze.
Bird calls pierced the silence as they walked down the treelined path that led them into the centre of the village.
Hambleton was home to a couple of hundred residents of all ages, as well as Podge and Perkins, the village pigs that belonged to the pub.
Each day Dave, the ebullient landlord, took buckets of scraps out to feed them.
Their snuffling, grunting presence had become a true part of village life.
Raffy adored them. When they reached the village green they continued past the pub, the pond and the village hall – a beautiful building which had once been the heart of the community but now lay unloved and empty.
They walked past the pigsty, stopping to have a quick chat with Podge and Perkins, who were always willing to receive visitors in the hope of getting some tit bits, before heading up the hill towards the church.
Surrounded by topsy turvy gravestones in varying states of disarray, the grey stone building towered up above the houses as if keeping a wizened, watchful eye on the goings on below.
A wonky cross perched unsteadily on top of the steeple and a wrought iron archway welcomed visitors onto the gravel path that led up to the ancient oak doors.
Houses lined the road as it twisted and turned up and over the hill, mainly thatched cottages partially hidden behind well-groomed hedges.
It was a quintessential country village, all rambling roses and borders bursting with flowers.
Helena absolutely loved it. She preferred the pace of life, the peace and quiet and the sheer wealth of nature around her to the hustle and bustle of London.
The petrol fumes, the litter, the traffic jams, the overwhelming busyness of city life…
it had made a welcome change coming here, that was for sure.
As they rounded the corner, they turned down a side road that curved back up across the hill, revealing sweeping views of the fields below.
The lemon-yellow rye fields contrasted perfectly with the cornflower blue sky above and the vivid green of the grass.
Beyond, the countryside rolled out as far as the eye could see, divided up into fields like a patchwork quilt.
Spotting his school friends up ahead, Raffy called out to Meg, Maisy and Ted who were racing around their garden.
They shared the space with the other residents of Stable Cottages, a horse-shoe shaped building that, as the name suggested, had once been stables to the Manor House up the road.
Nathalie and her kids lived in the front part of the building.
She was sitting on a deckchair under the shade of a tree, her laptop open and balanced on her knees which were clad in denim dungaree shorts. Her comically oversized hoop earrings glinted in the light. She paused and squinted to see who was passing by, waving at Helena and Noah.
‘Lovely day, isn’t it?’ Helena called.
‘It’s bloody hot!’ Nathalie replied. ‘I can hardly see my screen but I can’t be wasting this gorgeous weather sitting inside. I need to improve my tan.’
‘Are you working?’ Helena asked.
‘Always,’ Nathalie grimaced. She was known online as @NotSoScrummyMummy.
Helena had looked her up having overheard some of the mums gossiping about her at the school gate.
She had an impressive following, combining her love of fashion and vintage clothing with witty commentary on her life as a single mother.
Helena couldn’t think of anything more unnerving than sharing personal information with strangers, especially being faced with trolls and negative comments, but she admired Nathalie for having the guts.
Helena could feel the firm pressure Noah was applying to her back, signalling that he didn’t wish to get drawn into conversation.
Taking the hint, Helena made their excuses and waved goodbye as Raffy pushed off and scooted ahead, pausing for a moment as Margery came veering past at breakneck speed in her red three-wheeler, tooting merrily at the wheel.
‘There should be a law against anyone over the age of seventy taking the wheel,’ Noah said as she cannoned past. ‘That woman is off her rocker.’
Helena bit her tongue as the urge to defend Margery swelled up within her.
As they approached the public byway, Noah took Raffy’s scooter and slung it over his shoulder, helping first Raffy and then Helena over the stile before nimbly jumping over himself.
Soon they were in the woods where the air was noticeably cooler, protected from the overbearing heat of the sun.
Crispy twigs snapped underfoot as they made their way down to the stream that carved through the end of the ancient woodland to the west of the village.
Helena often thought how much her mother would have loved these woods.
She had often talked about the energy of trees, how they communicated with each other through their roots.
Sometimes, she would stop abruptly and wrap her arms around a tree trunk, much to Helena’s teenage mortification.
They trampled over ferns and bracken, laughing as Raffy raced around, jumping over fallen logs, climbing trees and jabbering excitedly about the minibeast project he was doing at school.
Having worked up a thirst they were more than ready for a drink when they finally made their way back to the village pub, the Crooked Hook.
It was the only place left for people to gather together in the village since the post office, village shop, and, most recently, the village hall had closed.
The pub was all the village had left. People would often throw their birthday celebrations at the pub, not that Helena or Noah were ever invited.
There was a quiz night which seemed very popular and even the occasional karaoke night on a Friday.
‘What can I get for you?’ asked Dave, the ruddy cheeked, round-faced landlord as they placed their orders at the bar. The pub was actually very small, with a handful of tables and a few stools at the bar, but on a day like this the beer garden out the back really came into its own.
‘I’ll bring the drinks out if you like,’ said Dawn, one of the local teenagers who helped out behind the bar.
‘Cheers,’ Noah said as he took his change, leading the way through to the back. An enormous honeysuckle swamped the back wall of the pub, filling the garden with its heavily perfumed blossoms. Terracotta pots overflowing with vermilion geraniums were dotted about.
They sat on an old picnic bench at the back. Raffy took his bottle of squash out of his Toy Story backpack and took a swig, sighing loudly and smacking his lips.
‘Delish!’ he beamed. ‘Can I have my snack now?’ he asked, looking at Noah. He nodded and Raffy whipped out a packet of cheddars. He was soon crunching merrily away, making exaggerated ‘mmmm’ sounds as he devoured the packet.
Dawn came out with a tray full of drinks, including a pint of lager for Noah and a Pimm’s for Helena.
She had spilled most of the froth from the top of the pint glass, which Helena knew would irritate Noah.
Thankfully, he didn’t say anything, instead dazzling her with a smile as he took the proffered glass.
‘Wouldn’t it be nice if they started serving food here again?’ he asked having taken a swig of beer.
Helena nodded. ‘I thought we could have a barbeque for lunch,’ she said. ‘I’ve got some nice lamb skewers from the butcher, and I can make some burgers?’
‘Make them now?! They should be marinating for at least a day in advance. They’ll be completely tasteless!’ Noah looked appalled at the thought.
Helena bristled before reminding herself not to rise. ‘They shouldn’t be – I was going to use lots of herbs and some of that nice chipotle sauce?’
‘Don’t bother. We can have the lamb though.’ Helena sighed inwardly.
Thankfully Noah was in charge of the barbeque, one of the rare occasions that he cooked for them – it was much less stressful on her part, with no pressure to get it just right.
‘Great!’ she smiled. She reached over, took his hand and gave it a squeeze.
‘Did you know that the Romans invaded Britain?’ Raffy piped up with a new fact he had learned at school.
‘Did you know that they named London ‘Londinium’, and that’s why we call it London?
And that they invented aqueducts, which are bridges that carry water?
And that they invented straight roads, and concrete?
And did you know that a Roman Emperor invented the very first whoopee cushion! How cool is that?’
Helena sat back and sipped her ice cold, slightly too sweet Pimm’s.
She allowed herself to close her eyes as she listened to Noah and Raffy chat, pushing her sunglasses onto the top of her head and relishing in the sun beating down on her skin.
The sour memory of last night’s fight was fading, and perhaps, if she really thought about it, it had been a bit much to wear lipstick to a parents’ evening.
She sighed with contentment. She was so lucky to have them both in her life.