‘I can work with endearing.’ He gives a sniff. ‘So how come you boughtallthe Svens, I thought reindeer made you jumpy?’
Shit.The lurch of my stomach is so huge I almost bring my hot chocolate back up. I do a couple of big leaps across the sand to cover my confusion and swallow hard. ‘This is me working through that. I love Christmas, Santa’s sleigh is a huge part, it simply isn’t practical to live my life wanting to chuck up every time I see antlers.’
‘Having that particular aversion must be awful, especially for you.’ His voice goes lower and full of concern. ‘So can I ask what brought this on?’
I let out a long sigh because he’s already touched on this. ‘The crash where I cut up my face happened last December – I was on my way home from a party wearing a reindeer outfit, that’s all.’ I’m shaking my head. ‘Looking on the bright side, when they cut off my clothes in A&E I’d have minded much more if they’d had to cut off my favourite French Connection jeans.’ I have to tell him though. ‘I sound like I’m making light of it, but that’s only because it was all so awful I really can’t talk about it.’
That night was probably the lowest point in my life, for so many reasons. If ever I let myself think about it, first I want to die of shame. Then I desperately want to turn back the clock so I can make better decisions. The only way I’ve found to cope with the guilt and carry on is by never thinking about it deeply at all.
He lets out a low whistle. ‘Well, if you’ve come as far as buying a heap of hand sized furry reindeer, that’s progress. And you’ve taken off your hat inside and everyone’s seen what you’re hiding under your new hairstyle, so you’re moving forward with that too.’
I let out another sigh. ‘The counsellors tell you as soon as you learn to love yourself again you’ll be free to move on. But I’m so far away from that. It’s not just my face, I still have so many other regrets. But it’s so much easier to bury my head than deal with them.’
He’s reaching out towards me, and before I know it he’s caught my hand. ‘You’ve had an awful time, but I promise, you will come through it.’ He’s squeezing my fingers, and tilting his head upwards. ‘Look at the sky …’
Between the clouds the patches of velvety blackness are literally spattered with thousands of pin pricks of brightness. ‘All those stars, the more I look, the more I can see. They’re so much brighter than back home.’
He nods. ‘You don’t get the light pollution here that you get in the city. That’s one of the payoffs. What we lack in phone signal we more than make up for with views of the Milky Way.’
I laugh. ‘I’ll tell that to Tom.’
He’s sounding so thoughtful. ‘You know the stars are there all the time, but you only get to see them at night.’
I stoop to pick up a clam shell shining white in the moonlight, and rub it between my fingers. ‘The first few weeks after the accident I hated the dark. If I turned off the light all I could see was the endless blackness that came after the impact. I kept reliving how the radio was still playing but no one was coming to help. How Michael who was driving was slumped over the steering wheel and wouldn’t answer me. Then the flash of blue lights in the night when the police finally turned up, the noise of the grinders as the firemen cut up the car, the taste of blood in my mouth. I still hate all those flashbacks.’
‘You really don’t have to talk about it … not if you don’t want to.’
Somehow now I’ve started it’s less hard than I thought. I can’t actually stop. ‘Gradually, me hating the dark changed and I actually like it now. When it’s dark and no one can see my scar, that’s when I feel most like myself.’
‘You really don’t have to hide it.’ Bill sighs. ‘Dark places aren’t always bad, sometimes they feel safe. I used to love hiding in the cupboard under the stairs as a kid. We’re both having dark times now, but as Keef would tell us, they won’t last forever.’
‘So what aboutyourdark places, how are they going?’ I don’t know where that came from, it’s not even me speaking my mind.
He clears his throat. ‘Well, it’s no secret, Gemma was the one who left.’
‘Oh my. I’m so sorry.’ No one likes to get dumped. But all I can think is that if he’d been mine after Chamonix, how tightly I’d have held onto him and how very much I’d have loved and cared for him. That I wouldn’t have been careless enough to let him go. How when I see the lines of anguish in his face because of everything he’s lost, my heart is breaking for him.
As a cloud rolls back and the moonlight falls on his face, his smile is rueful. ‘I just hadn’t counted on how awful the break up fights would be.’ His laugh is bitter. ‘She took the London house, I kept the castle and the distillery because they belonged to Dad and I anyway.’
My eyes are opening wide. ‘So you’re definitely not just the caretaker or a leaseholder?’
He lets out a snort. ‘A lot of the time with the size of the bills and the maintenance issues, I wish Iwasjust the caretaker. You buy these places thinking you’re getting a bargain, not knowing how they’ll run through your capital. But we’ll get there. As you said once before, giving up isn’t an option.’
I’m trying to say something to make it seem less bleak. ‘The fighting can’t go on forever. Once you start to leave the bad bits behind things will feel better.’
He’s shaking his head. ‘I’m a very long way from that, further than you can ever imagine.’ He swallows and looks up.
Except I’m not looking up at all. Instead I’m looking down. Taking in his fingers entwined in mine, feeling the heat from his palm. Listening to his breathing in the dark. The desolation in his voice is making my heart break for him.
‘Would a hug help?’
The words hang in the air, then get whooshed off out to sea, before it hits – they came from me.What? Why THE HELL did I say that?And of course a hug wouldn’t bloody help! The guy’s in pieces because his super-hot girlfriend walked out, the last thing he needs right now is to be grabbed by some random do-gooder with a ripped up face. WhatwasI thinking? Well, we all know, I wasn’t. It’s my sodding necklace talking, it’s got nothing to do with me. As I yank my hand out of his and leap sideways I’m gabbling. ‘No, you’re right, that’s the worst idea ever … I’m the woman who launched herself into a hot tub … and threw herself into a muck barrow, remember … you’ll have to excuse me … I stuff up big style … all the time … this is just the latest in my long line ofmahoosiveblunders and mistakes …’
Bill’s shaking his head again. ‘As you’re already so far up the beach you’re practically in the castle gardens, I take it you’re withdrawing the offer?’ He’s biting his lip. ‘Believe me though, you deserve to be hugged by someone a lot better than I am.’
‘P-e-r-lease …’ I’m humming, putting my hands over my ears, sounding like Tiff ‘… let’s just move on …’ Preferably to a suitable hiding place in the bushes where I can lie low until Christmas is entirely over. I need to scrape together a better apology. ‘I’m sorry, forget I ever mentioned it – you just sounded so very sad, that’s all.’
There’s another rueful twist of his lips. ‘You have to roll with the bad times. I told you before, Ivy-star, you need the darkness to see the stars. It’s not all bad, there are good things in there too.’
As we draw level with the castle, the crenellated edges of the turrets are sharp against the smudges of the sky, the lights in the windows are yellow against the dusky walls, and it all looks so sturdy and strong and safe.
‘The castle’s a lot like the stars somehow. It’s always beautiful, but it’s even better at night.’
‘Says the star girl who’s so mercurial she takes back her hugs before she gives them.’ Even in the dark I can still catch the teasing glint in his eye. ‘Does this mean you’ll be returning all your shopping tomorrow too?’
If this is what sea glass does, I’m glad I only got a couple of chips not a whole neckful. But as I go into the castle, instead of being met by a blast of hot air, I’m still shivering with the cold. And I can’t help thinking how much I could have done with the warmth of that hug.
