She jumped in quickly. ‘You know we need a hefty deposit on a house to be considered by a lender...with the new business – and your help too, of course – we should be able to achieve that in a year.’
Dylan was surprised. ‘Really? A year? As soon as that?’ The carrot she was dangling was having an effect. He was allowing himself to think of the impossible – their own place again.
‘What’s he charging on the funding?’
Imogen smiled. This was the sensitive part. ‘Nothing. He wants to help. Get us back on our feet.’
‘Why?’
‘Why not? He’s our friend.’ She rested her hand on his, leaned in to kiss him. ‘It’s an opportunity that only comes along once in a blue moon. We’re lucky. It’s our chance to change things.’ She moved over to the hob, stirred the soup. ‘We plan to open in December,’ she added casually.
‘ThisDecember?’
‘Yes.’
‘But...the lease...setting everything up...’ He was looking at her and the penny dropped. ‘You’ve already done it.’
‘I saw the estate agent today. Haven’t signed anything yet. I’m so excited about it,’ she pleaded. ‘It’s all for us, youknow. Me, you and Rosie. Think about it. This time next year. Our own front door again.’
She stopped, let that sink in. She knew what he was wrestling with in his mind, knew he was feeling under pressure.
‘So what do you think?’ she asked tentatively.
He looked at her and in his eyes she saw admiration, but also exhaustion. And deeply hidden, a flash of resentment. She held her breath.
‘I think I’d better apply for the job at Kingsgate,’ he said, ‘seeing as we’re in this together.’
Her heart leapt with joy. She threw her arms around his neck.
‘On one condition,’ said Dylan, his voice muffled by her hair.
‘Yes?’
‘I do it on my own. I don’t want you talking to James, asking him to help.’
‘But—’
‘I mean it, Imogen. It’s on my own or nothing. You promise?’
She looked at him, realized his mind was set. ‘Promise.’
Imogen closed her eyes with relief. Another victory. Step by step she was going to reclaim her rightful place in this village.
FIFTEEN
Monday 7 September
It was a warm evening, what Imogen knew would be one of the last warm evenings of the year. She was restless, full of burning ambition. She needed to walk. She needed space like she used to have, where she’d either stroll around her three-acre garden, lost in its meditative enchantment, or if she needed to let off more steam, she’d head across the lawn then down the steps and out onto the reservoir path where she could walk for fourteen miles if she so wanted, right around the perimeter of the water, through the nature reserve, past the woods, until she arrived back at her house.Hadarrived back at her house. It was no longer her house. But the path was bloody well open to all and Imogen got a sudden urge to claim it.
She snapped on Arthur’s lead and calling out to Dylan, who was marking books in the kitchen, and to Rosie, who was colouring in the living room, she left the house.
The minute the door shut behind her she felt less suffocated. She breathed in the night-scented air – someone’s dinner being cooked, a honeysuckle at a neighbour’s gate –and headed down the high street towards the water. Dusk had already claimed the sky in the east but over the reservoir, sitting above the horizon, the sun was still a golden orb. Imogen headed for the water’s edge and stopped for a moment. It was quiet; everyone else had gone home for the day. The cafe was shut and the fishermen and water sports enthusiasts had long ago put away their boats and kayaks and the water was still.
In the far distance, away from the sunset, the edges of the reservoir were nearly black. When Imogen stared at them the line between water and bank blurred together. Ahead of her, the sun lit a golden path across the reservoir. Bats flitted amongst the trees and a fish leapt out of the water, once, twice, a third time and it was as if it were welcoming her back. She smiled, remembering the times she would come down here, just she and Dylan at first, when they’d bring a bottle of wine and takeaway pizzas and sit on the bank, once making out behind some trees. Then later, with Rosie in a baby pouch strapped to her chest, Dylan holding her hand as they strolled around to get their daughter to sleep. All the while knowing their home was only a short distance away.
Arthur was eager to get walking and Imogen knew she didn’t have long before it would get dark. She could take the dog to the grassy bank around the cafe, let him have a run around or...She looked to her right. High up on the bank, the barn’s lights were on. She knew exactly how many minutes it would take to reach it. Twelve and a half. Bit too far really, seeing as she had to get back again and, judging by the sun, in fifteen minutes it would be dark.
The pull was too strong. Imogen turned and headed down the path and as the light faded she got a sense of excitement, a feeling the night was covering up her approach. It made her feel hidden, clandestine, as if she had special powers, the darkness offering her a cloak of invisibility from which she could observe unnoticed. Before long she was at the gate. The sign saying ‘Private Land’ was still nailed firmly to the wood. She opened the catch and slipped through, making her way past the trees and then up the steps into the garden itself.
