‘I was just thinking about you, actually, and the night we met.’
‘I don’t like to think about it.’ He looked quite serious.
‘Why not? What a terrible thing to say!’ She made out to spray him and he jumped back accordingly.
‘It’s not a terrible thing to say,’ he countered. ‘I don’t like it because I think about the many opportunities, the infinite possibilities that existed on that night for us not to meet, not to chat. Imagine if you hadn’t been so very forward.’ He laughed and she joined him. ‘And then if you hadn’t hung back at the end because Ellis needed the bathroom? All those little acts that meant I found you. I hate to think of the fickle hand of fate, cruelly keeping you from me. I can’t imagine not having you, not having the boys, not having this.’ He let his arm rise and fall in an arc that indicated their whole world, their home, their haven.
‘Or maybe it wasn’t fate,’ she suggested. ‘Maybe it was written in the stars, preordained, meant to be and so it wouldn’t have mattered if we chatted or not, we’d still be here, right now, we’d have just taken a different route.’
‘But you don’t believe in all that nonsense!’ He stared at her, his lovely face breaking into a smile.
‘No, but whatever it is, I thank my lucky stars for you.’ She wrinkled her nose at her beloved.
‘And I for you, Mrs Wentworth. Do you think Bear is still desperately in love with the girl he met in Devon – Tawrie? Or do you think this last month away from there has given him perspective?’ He voiced her own thoughts.
‘I don’t know, he seemed pretty fixed on the idea of her. More than that, entirely dedicated to it. I’m glad he’s taken some time out, though. Apparently Petra moved her mother in and Ramona visits a lot, so he feels a little ...’
‘Yes, I’ve been in the company of Ramona and Petra’s mother, and I must admit I felt a little ... overwhelmed?’ He fished for the right way to phrase it. ‘They can be a bit of a noisy twosome, like the boys when they gang up!’
‘But with much less rugby chat,’ she quipped.
‘Yes, and then when you throw a wine-soaked Hugo into the mix.’ He pulled a face.
Harriet couldn’t disagree. When Hugo had moved Wendy Peterson into their old family home in Ledwick Green, it hadn’t been as gut-wrenching as she might have anticipated. In the beginning, when news of his infidelity was raw, it would have been an axe to her will and motivation. By the time he’d rather sheepishly informed her of the development one night when she’d dropped Bear and Dilly back home for his half of the week and was about to return to the flat she’d rented only a stone’s throw from Ledwick Green, eight months had passed, and everything had calmed. It still smarted, she’d be lying if she said otherwise, but gone was the visceral throb of rejection, the utter pain of deceit. Instead, she was more concerned with how the kids would cope seeing Wendy at the stove or Wendy on the sofa or Wendy in the bathroom. And how she’d cope when Wendy opened the front door when she came to collect the kids or dropped them off.
Thank you, doll, I feel gorgeous!
She shivered.
And pretty much like anything that’s dreaded and takes an inflated position in the mind, in reality it had been a fairly innocuous transition. Wendy, in a matter of weeks, went from the woman who had taken a weapon to her life, to Hugo’s girlfriend; the woman Harriet gave instruction to about how to reboot the pilot light on the boiler and let her in on the trick of kicking the dishwasher door to make it work when it gave up the ghost mid-cycle. The children also seemed to take it in their stride. Figuring they’d take their lead from her, she spoke only positively about the new set-up when they were within earshot and it did the trick. Then, just like that, Wendy was out and Sherry was in and her kids slid back to square one; another resettling with a new woman and a baby to boot.
‘I’ve been thinking about Hugo a bit.’
‘In what way?’ His casual tone spoke volumes about how secure he was in this marriage.
‘Just ...’ She took her time. ‘I don’t know. Things I might want to say, to ask, things that have stayed with me.’
‘I guess only you know if these “things” need exploring, darling.’ He used air quotes, to emphasise her vagueness. ‘If there’s something that bothers you that you want to get off your chest then do it. Or maybe with so much time having passed and so much water under the bridge, it might be like picking at an old wound for no reason.’
‘Yep, that’s the dilemma.’ She liked how he always guided, never instructed, this patient man she so loved. ‘When’s Bear back from Ellis’s?’ As ever, she’d lost track.
‘This evening. Apparently he and Maisie have been drinking wine till the early hours and dancing to nineties’ club hits in the kitchen, while Maisie cries over lost loves. Ellis has had to remind them that she’s way too old to be dealing with teenage angst at thistime of her life, and so are they! I think she’ll be glad to see the back of him! Do you want me to cook?’ he offered casually.
‘Good Lord, no! Please, please don’t do that! I can’t stand the thought of having to redecorate.’ She walked over and kissed his cheek. ‘Though we could get a takeaway? The boys would like the treat.’
‘Great idea.’ He stood and cleared his throat in the way he did when he had something to say.
‘What is it love?’ she prompted.
‘I suppose ...’ He rocked on his heels. ‘I just get the feeling that since Bear has raised the topic of Ilfracombe, you seem a little bit ... preoccupied. And of course you’re worried about him, we all are. But whatever else is filling up your head, I just wanted to say that I do understand, or at least I try to. I ... I’ve always been aware that it’s a time and place in your life that you avoid, in every sense, and that’s a shame. It’s like ...’ His mouth moved and his eyes roved the sky, as if finding the wording was tough.
‘It’s like what?’ she asked softly, dreading and welcoming his thoughts in equal measure.
‘It’s like a boulder in the fast-flowing river of our lives, and it always has been. We climb over it, we swim around it, we avoid it as if to get close means we might dash to pieces upon it. I don’t like it. I don’t like having this thing between us. It’s not necessary. I guess what I’m saying, or trying to, is that maybe it’s time you revisited both the place and the time? You might find it freeing.’ He reached out and stroked her face. ‘Wemight find it freeing. Because no matter how deeply I love you, if there’s even a thin coat of armour that you wear as a shield close to your skin, around your heart, no matter how tiny, almost invisible, it’s still a barrier between us.’
‘I ...’ To hear this from the man she loved was like a knife in her gut. ‘I don’t ...’
‘You don’t have to give me details, you don’t have toexplain,’ he stressed, ‘but you do have to have everything clear in your thoughts; you owe yourself that.’
