31. Truth be Told
Chapter 31
Truth be Told
A knot of worry twisted itself around inside Amy. She tried to read in his eyes what he might have to say to her, and all she could see was worry. So this was it. The thing that he’d been bottling up, unable to tell her, the problem that was consuming him.
‘What is it?’ she asked quietly.
He looked at the ground before he spoke, his voice low and heavy. ‘I’ve lost my job.’
He leaned backwards against the twisted trunk of one of the trees and knocked into a low hanging branch so a huge clump of snow slid off the tree and showered them both.
She wasn’t sure if the sudden deluge of snow down her neck or Matt’s news was the biggest surprise. She gasped for breath as crystals of ice melted down her back. ‘And you didn’t tell me?’
‘I should have done. I’m so sorry. But the longer it went on, the harder it got to say anything.’ He shook his shoulders to get rid of the snow that had covered them. She reached out and brushed the last of the snow off for him. It was such a relief - not that losing his job was a good thing, but it wasn’t one of the awful things it might’ve been. Illness, death, breakup. This was a stumble, not a full stop. It was all she could do not to smile with relief.
‘I’m really sorry. You must be gutted, I know how much you loved that job.’
‘I did once. Not so much recently.’ He rolled a small ball of snow between his hands as he spoke.
She faced him as she shook some more snow from inside her hood. ‘When did it happen?’ she asked.
‘That meeting, before the school play, d’you remember? I had the choice. Work over Christmas, or they’d have to let me go. I haven’t been happy for a while now and that was the final straw. If I said yes, I’d have to cancel this holiday, and if I said no I’d have no job, so I couldn’t afford to pay for the holiday. There’ll be a redundancy payment, but it didn’t come through in time, and there was no Christmas bonus.’
‘I could’ve helped. I knew there was something! I wish you’d told me, I’ve been really worried.’
‘I didn’t realise it was that obvious. I’m sorry, I didn’t know I’d worried you. I’ve messed everything up.’ He looked down at the trampled snow between their feet.
‘You haven’t. Look, I made some money from the business over Christmas, I can pay your loan back – that will help a bit with the cost of this week.’ She had plenty of money in her account now that all the Christmas orders had been paid for.
‘I found a way round it.’ His voice sounded guarded, careful. What else hadn’t he told her?
‘Oh no, you haven’t sold your campervan, have you?’ She knew how precious his vintage VW was to him – but she also knew that it was worth a fair amount of money.
‘Not yet. I couldn’t do that, but if it comes to it and I can’t find another job, then the campervan’ll have to go in the spring.’
So, if he hadn’t sold the campervan, how had he raised the money to treat her to this week in the cottage? And then suddenly the snowball of clarity plummeted down the back of her neck. ‘Diane?’
He nodded slowly.
‘I didn’t want you to feel obliged to her, so I didn’t tell you.’
‘But you feel obliged to her, don’t you?’
He nodded again, his face pale in the moonlight.
‘She knows you’ve lost your job, doesn’t she.’
‘Yes. But she’s promised to keep it to herself, because Oliver doesn’t know yet.’
‘So many secrets, Matt.’ She shook her head, and some more water trickled down the back of her neck.
‘I know. I know it’s the wrong thing to do, but even if it meant I had to keep this to myself, I just wanted everybody to have the best Christmas possible.’
‘Everybody except you. James is right. You’re too nice.’
‘I wouldn’t put it like that myself.’ His coat rustled as he gave a huge shrug.
‘So, what will you do now?’ she asked.
He sighed. ‘I should get the redundancy payment early in the new year, though it’s not a life-changing amount. I had such big plans for the next couple of years, but now … it’s back to square one. Start out in something new. Perhaps one of the local garages, or I could even work in sales if I had to.’ She knew he wouldn’t want to be a salesman. ‘I’ve also thought about setting up in business by myself, to restore campervans.’
Of course, that made sense. It was something he’d be really good at as well as something he loved. ‘That’s a big step,’ she said.
‘But to fund that the redundancy won’t be enough. I really would have to sell the house and move somewhere smaller. And is Olly ready for that? I don’t know if I can do it.’
‘And you’ve kept all this to yourself over Christmas. I wish I’d known, then I could’ve helped.’
‘I should’ve told you, but I didn’t want to spoil your Christmas too.’ He seemed downcast again, but the haunted look in his eyes had gone.
She checked over her shoulder. The cottage door was still shut, and there was nobody visible by the windows. She kissed him, quickly but fervently. ‘I love you, no matter what.’
They began to walk back up the slope of the orchard towards the lane and the cottage hand-in-hand. A light went on in the boys’ bedroom and helped to illuminate the path to the front door.
‘I’m glad I told you,’ he said, as they approached the garden.
‘We’ll sort this. And the first thing we must do is tell Diane.’ She gave his hand a gentle squeeze, before he turned to push the gate shut. ‘But in the meanwhile, I’ve got an important job to do, like Peter asked. I’m going down to the farm to tell Mrs Thompson.’
She opened the door and stepped inside, the warmth of the room welcoming after the bitter chill outside. She expected to find Diane seated beside the fire in her mother’s chair, ankles crossed, hands folded neatly in her lap, waiting for their return, but the sofa was empty. The boys were up to something in their bedroom which involved Harry barking like a sheepdog. Everything else was silent, and the fire had burnt down to glowing embers.
‘Where’s Granny Diane, boys?’ Matt called up to them.
‘Dunno,’ said Harry.
‘Perhaps she’s on the toilet?’ suggested Oliver.
‘Perhaps she’s got stuck in it!’ Harry said, and both boys giggled.
Amy went through to the kitchen to see if Diane was in there making a cup of tea or helping herself to another glass of port. Matt followed her. The kitchen was empty, but there was a note on the table, neatly written in blue ink on a piece of thick, folded writing paper. It was addressed to Matt. Amy had a momentary hope that somehow Diane had found a way to get out of there and go home, but her car was still parked outside, the roof layered with snow. She hadn’t gone far. Matt unfolded the paper.
‘ Dear Matt, ’ he read out. ‘ I have gone down to call on Mrs Thompson. I surmise the news will not be good, and she should not be alone. If you know anything, please phone immediately or bring the news to the farm. Yours, Diane. ’
‘She’s gone to the farm.’ Amy stated the obvious.
‘You get yourself down there with the news. I’ll keep an eye on the boys,’ said Matt.
She took his hand and gripped it firmly. ‘I’ll be back when I can. There’s some mince in the fridge if you feel like cooking. I was going to make chilli for tonight, as both the boys like it, though I’m sure Diane won’t approve. Not the kind of thing Stella would’ve cooked, I expect.’ She grinned at Matt.
‘Stella wouldn’t have cooked, she’d’ve ordered a takeaway. I was the only one who ever cooked in our house,’ Matt said with a wink. ‘Now, go. I love you, Amy. And I’ll be here when you get back. ’
‘I love you too,’ she said with relief.
Now there were more important things than their love life to be dealt with. She closed the cottage door behind her and stepped out once more into the snowy night.
She remembered the scene on the mountainside, a tragic but peaceful moment frozen in time. She couldn’t help but contrast Mr Thompson’s serene end with that of her own mother. She hadn’t been with her mam at the end, but she knew when she was pulled from the river, several different people had tried, and failed to get her to breathe again, and the ambulance had come too late. There had been nothing calm about her mother’s end; it had been a bitter struggle.
Now she had to bring bad news to Mrs Thompson and she shivered with the cold and the bleak responsibility.