Christmas at Bay Tree Cottage

Eve eases herself out of the chair and walks around to sit next to me on the sofa. She places her arms around my shoulders and gives me a warm hug. This isn’t about money, or a chimney. This is about being weary; so tired of thinking that I want to switch off my brain and wishing I could spirit myself back two years in time. Golden days that I didn’t realise were so very, very precious.

‘Time heals, my lovely friend. But there will be setbacks. Sometimes you need to just let it all out, there’s no shame in that.’

It’s comforting, not least because there aren’t many people who understand the frustrations that are still a part of my daily life. My parents would be horrified to know that, because they believe this strong front I’m presenting to the world. They are proud of me because of the way I’m coping and wouldn’t know what to do if they thought for one moment I was so fragile I’m in danger of … what?

‘Thank you, Eve. It helps, you know. Just once in a while I need to drop my guard. And the chimney, just get Matthew to pop in to see me. It’s kind of him to have checked it out and I’m happy to pay half of the cost of the scaffolding.’

‘Don’t you even go there! I feel awful having to raise it and wish we could have simply told him to get on with both jobs. But he needs your permission, of course. And you can’t light the fire until he gives you the all-clear. Oh, life, eh?’

The sigh that escapes her lips is one of empathy and concern. With our girls being only six months apart in age, Niall’s death also affected Eve in a very real way. It was a reminder that you can’t take anything for granted, even the fact that there will be a tomorrow. In some ways I hope that it has brought Eve and Rick closer together, allowing them to appreciate how lucky they are to have each other.

‘Actually, I also have a problem with a leak in the spare bedroom, so maybe he could take a look at that, too. The last thing I want is to risk it getting worse over the Christmas holidays. It’s on my to-do list but until I have the draft outline of this biography done I can’t turn my attention to anything else.’

‘You never said who it was you’re writing about. Is it anyone interesting?’

‘Aiden Cruise.’

Eve rolls her eyes and laughs out loud.

‘Ha! Good luck pinning down that bad boy! Is it going to be X-rated?’

‘Well, if I don’t get at least one more lengthy Skype session in with him, all I can say is that at the moment it all seems rather tame. But then we’ve only covered his early years and rebellious teens; we didn’t get as far as his front-page, post-fame antics.’

‘Ooh, the best bit is yet to come, then. Will you get to meet him face to face?’

That’s something I’ve been wondering myself, but mainly because it’s difficult with regard to babysitting for Maya. I’m pretty confident that I can get the overview of the book finished if Aiden will honour just one more session, but when it comes to fleshing out the story I’m going to have to really pin him down. I’ll have until May next year to get the first draft to the publishers, so for the moment that’s a worry for the future.

‘To be honest, he’s so hard to contact that I think I’ll probably end up having to follow him around for a few days to get him talking. I’ve been liaising with his manager, Seth, and he’s promised me that Aiden will be there for my next call, so we can wrap up the outline. He’s sympathetic, understanding the problem I have and he suggested I see Aiden on tour some time. If I spend January doing all of the preparation and research work, I’m hoping to have a list of questions for him to focus on when we finally meet up. Fortunately, I have quite a lot of information already, but I have to sift through it and once that’s done, it will just be a case of filling in the gaps with the really personal stuff.’

‘It’s not an easy job you do, is it? Are biographies the hardest to do?’

‘Well, to be honest, I prefer straightforward editing jobs but this pays really well. It’s easier when it’s someone the public adore. Aiden’s book will be a best-seller simply because people love reading an exposé about a bad boy. But if he doesn’t open up and give me the really interesting stuff, then the publishers won’t be happy. On paper what I seem to have so far is a picture of a rock god and each person I talk to seems to be describing a very different man. It’s all very confusing. I get a fixed fee from the publisher for the job, but they’re more likely to use me again in the future if I can really get to the heart of this story. The problem is that if Aiden keeps avoiding me, then I’m never going to gain his trust and get his side of things. I’ve interviewed two members of the group, his ex-manager and a few celebrities whose paths he’s crossed over the years. What’s missing now is the detail only he can give me to bring the story alive. The other project I’m working on in between the biography is editing a set of children’s books. Although it’s the eight years and up age range, I’ve read the first one to Maya and she seemed to love it, so I can’t wait to work on the second and third books.’

Eve reaches across for her coffee and then sits back snugly into the corner of the sofa.

‘Well, when it comes to your little jaunt with Aiden, Maya is very welcome to stay with us. The girls would love having a couple of days together.’

The sad thing is that I constantly sense the awkwardness Eve feels about my situation and it has affected our friendship. As if all the good things in her life might somehow be a reminder of how awful my life has turned out to be. Rick is an investment and mortgage adviser, well-regarded and with a growing clientele. Money has never been a problem for them and they are the perfect family unit. We all got on so well because it seemed we had mirror lives and so many shared interests, not least, turning a pair of neglected cottages into comfortable homes. I don’t envy her, or the wonderful life they have, but I will admit there are moments when I catch myself wondering where we’d be now if Niall hadn’t died. Would Bay Tree Cottage be finished and we’d be looking forward to a magical Christmas?

‘Thanks, if Mum and Dad aren’t available to look after her I might take you up on that offer. I appreciate it, Eve, what you’ve done. You’re a good friend and I know I’m truly blessed. In fact, I have no idea how I would have coped without you on the doorstep. And Maya, too. Amelie has been a tremendous friend, she’s a very special little girl.’

I mean every word of it. I’ve often heard the girls chattering away and Amelie is definitely an old head on young shoulders.

‘They never go away,’ I’d heard her tell Maya once. ‘Your dad would never leave you. You just need to talk to him.’

I was watching them through a crack in the door, just to reassure myself that Maya really did want to play that day. She hadn’t been sleeping well and her little face was so pale. Eve and I were encouraging the girls to spend more time together, as my therapist had advised me to keep things as normal as possible. Normal? I nearly screamed at the top of my voice when she’d said that. ‘What’s normal?’, but then that was in the early days.

So they played and each day was a little easier than the one before. Without Eve, Rick and Amelie I don’t know how we would have got through it. It’s a debt that money can’t repay.

Chapter 3 (#ubbb9217e-4c3c-59dd-b31b-ca5f015a5e87)

Elana (#ubbb9217e-4c3c-59dd-b31b-ca5f015a5e87)

I Need to Get My Act Together

‘Mrs James? I’m Matthew’s son, Luke Stevenson.’

The guy on my doorstep sticks out his hand in a friendly manner. The first thing that pops into my head is that, up close, he’s younger than I expected. From ground level, the few times I’ve seen him he looked older, somehow, but then he was always the height of a cottage away as he clambered over next door’s roof. I suppose roofing work does require a good level of fitness and agility. And he has that in spadefuls. His hair is dark, short around the sides and longer on top. He has a boyish look that doesn’t really go with his body, which is strong and athletic. Clearly he doesn’t bother to shave every day, but it suits him. His father, who is probably in his fifties, seems to do just about everything aside from roof work, from what I’ve seen. Guess that makes a lot of sense; why would he when he has such a fit son to do it for him?

I offer my hand and we shake, then I invite him inside. He seems a little hesitant, but I’m conscious of the heat drifting out of the open door as it’s such a chilly day. I can almost feel the oil flooding out of the tank to keep the boiler going.

He glances down at the floor, seemingly looking for a mat on which to wipe his muddy boots. At the moment the downstairs floor is still bare concrete and I’ve given up worrying about it. His eyes scan the little line of shoes and boots neatly standing to attention along one wall. He seems rather surprised, probably assuming he was going to walk into a beautifully renovated cottage, like Hillside View.

‘I didn’t mean to stop you; your neighbour mentioned you work from home. I was just wondering if you were happy with the quote my father dropped in and whether you wanted me to start work on the chimney. I’m almost done working on Hillside’s repairs, so I could start tomorrow if you like.’

Thankfully, Aiden Cruise came through with that Skype meeting yesterday and I’m now on target to get the outline submitted. This means that in ten days’ time the first payment should be hitting my bank account, just sixteen shopping days before Christmas. And, if I shop wisely, there should be enough to cover the work required on the chimney.

‘Yes, that would be fine, thank you. It’s been a worry, you know, since Eve mentioned it. The girls play outside all the time and we’ve had some really strong winds this winter. Actually, while you’re here, I have a small leak in the corner of the bedroom ceiling. I wonder if you could take a quick look in case it’s something you can remedy while you’re up on the roof.’

I had hoped that Matthew Stevenson himself would call in with the quote, but I was out on the school run yesterday and came back to find an envelope lying on the hallway floor. It’s reasonable enough, but my other little problem is a real concern, too, and I’m not sure whether Luke is the right one to ask.

‘Sure.’ He’s already bent over, tugging at the knots in his boot laces. I find myself looking down at his feet as he eases them out, staring at his socks. They’re black and one toe on his left foot is poking through a rather large hole. My gaze moves up to his face and he gives me an apologetic, and rather embarrassed, smile.

‘I’m a bit behind on the washing,’ he informs me. ‘All the good socks were dirty.’

I’m tempted to laugh and don’t know why on earth he would share that information with me, but instead I nod in acknowledgement and turn on my heels.

‘It’s this way,’ I call over my shoulder.

I lead him from the rather dusty hallway across the open-plan dining room/study and kitchen, to the staircase. Upstairs is carpeted, but downstairs I’ve merely covered the concrete as best I can with large rugs. It helps to detract from the unfinished state and we’re used to it now.

‘You’ve done a nice job on the kitchen,’ he remarks, probably thinking it’s the polite thing to say.

‘Thank you. Upstairs is virtually finished, which is why the leak is so annoying.’

We continue in silence, until we walk into the spare bedroom and he immediately lets out an ominous ‘Oh’.

‘Is it bad?’

The damp patch on the ceiling extends out about twelve inches from the corner and already the wallpaper at the top of both walls is beginning to peel away. It’s a horrible blot on an otherwise perfect, country-cottage bedroom.

‘Well, it’s not good, let’s put it that way. I’ll take a look up top and see what’s going on. Pity you didn’t get this looked at a bit sooner, to save you redecorating. It could be a guttering problem, or maybe a few slates have slipped.’

For a moment my attention wanders and I’m transported back to the weekend we’d spent wallpapering this room. I can visualise Niall up the ladder as I passed him a pasted sheet of paper folded back on itself in loops. He’d taken it from my hands, but within moments it began to slither down to the floor and as I grabbed it the paper tore. It wasn’t a good day, we’d both been tetchy and ended up having a row. We were tired and our patience was wearing thin. A day that was wasted with needless upset in the grand scheme of things because we had no idea the clock was ticking.

‘Mrs James?’

Luke’s voice brings me back into the moment and I try to shrug off the wave of sadness and regret.