Letting You Go (26 page)

A
lex pulled around the Longhouse and parked up next to several more cars that hadn’t been here before the bank holiday weekend. ‘Goddamn tourists are already descending like one of the great plagues. That’s the traffic shot to shit,’ her dad had complained before Alex had made her excuses and gone to bed early last night.

It was an odd feeling, being the angry one. It didn’t make honouring her promise to her mother any more straightforward though. Odder still was that her dad seemed to be making an effort again. Was it possible that she’d actually shamed him the other night at The Cavern? Last night, before the complaining about the tourists had started, he’d actually stretched to a couple of conversations about the weekend’s festivities in the town – who was odds on favourite to win the boat race, how much Hamish would charge for his authentic mead – as Jem had shovelled salad onto their plates with the same ashen expression she’d had when their dad had first walked in through the door. This George of hers had to be a big deal. Jem hadn’t stopped fidgeting the whole time in case Alex brought it up, she could tell. Jem’s eyes
had darted towards Alex, nervous and birdlike, on the few occasions Alex had bothered to speak.

‘Morning, Alex.’

Emma Parsons was stepping across the lawn from the back of the Longhouse, a basket of laundry under her arm closely followed by Poppy and a peg bag.

‘Hi.’ Alex climbed out of her truck. ‘How are you?’

Emma set the basket down. ‘Good, thanks.’

‘Where’s the baby?’

‘Susannah’s spoiling her with cuddles.’ Emma looked down and set a hand on Poppy’s head. ‘It was all a bit hectic at breakfast Friday, I still haven’t had a chance to thank you, Alex.’

Alex batted it away. ‘The quiche was amazing, Emma.’

‘I meant, in person. Properly.’

Alex looked at Poppy’s big wide eyes and hoped again that she hadn’t brought any more trouble to the Parsons’ door. ‘I didn’t do anything, Emma. Finn was the only one of any use.’

Emma smiled crookedly. She looked like Poppy when she smiled, the same way Jem looked like Dad when she laughed. ‘Finn and Susannah, they’ve both been really great to us.’

‘They are really great,’ Alex agreed. Was it wrong that she felt more at ease here than back at the farmhouse? Was that still her fault? Her dad having an affair didn’t cancel out all the hurt Alex had caused their family.

Gina, leggy and lithe, skipped down the lawns from the
barn and walked around the Longhouse up towards the high street. Long dark hair flowed behind her and Alex remembered how shocked she’d been when Finn had made the first move behind the waterfall. He could have anyone he wanted and Alex was awkward and complicated, not at all like Gina. Gina threw a wave over to Alex and Emma while simultaneously slipping a slender arm through her backpack.

‘I used to have a bum like that.’ Emma smiled. ‘Before children.’

Alex got another look at Gina’s toned legs, an even brown beneath a little khaki skirt.

‘You still have, Emma. Must be all that walking to the hospital. How’s your husband?’

Emma smiled fiercely at Poppy who was crouched between her knees scouring the lawn for daisies to put in her peg bag. ‘He won’t be home for a while yet.’

‘What about you, will you be going home for a while yet?’

Emma folded her arms around herself protectively. ‘Our
friend
will be back at some point,’ she said, carefully watching that Poppy didn’t catch on. ‘And when he does come, what happened last week, it’s going to be expensive. One way or another it will.’

‘Emma, tell Malcolm everything, he’ll be able to help. Our family have known him a long time, he’s a good guy.’ Alex’s confidence in Malcolm wasn’t completely restored but she sounded convincing for Emma’s benefit. Jem had
offered up this
George
character as her only supporting argument that there wasn’t anything untoward going on with Mal. And it should have been enough, Alex knew that. But her dad’s infidelity had thrown her. Until this George materialised, in the flesh, Alex was holding off a fraction.

Emma was looking intently at Poppy. She caught Alex watching her and smiled. ‘People,
problems
, like that don’t go away, Alex. Not without either a lot of money, or some sort of divine intervention. And we don’t have either.’

Alex chewed at the inside of her cheek. ‘Officer Sinclair might be able to help, Emma,’ Alex tried.

Emma sighed deeply. Her eyes had turned glassy. ‘Why is it, there is so much tragedy in this world, children being hurt, good people suffering, and yet bullies like Mr Mason get to roam the earth completely unchallenged? Terrible things happen to people every day. Why don’t people like
him
ever get hit by a … by a …’ Emma waved her hand around looking for the words, ‘… a bolt of lightning?’

Alex had thought the same thing a thousand times. Where was the balance her mum believed in?

‘I don’t know, Emma. But how are you going to be able to go home again?’

Emma looked like so many of the mothers Alex had seen at the food bank. Unsure of the next move, unready to think that far ahead, just grateful for a momentary reprieve and some small semblance of kindness from strangers.

‘Susannah said we can stay for as long as we need. I’m trying to do a few jobs around the place to help out. She has
got a lot on with the festival tomorrow. Hopefully she’s glad I’m here.’

‘I’m sure she is.’

The doors off the back extension went again and the hard-boiled egg man stepped out. Was this George? Jem’s George? Everyone else Alex had noticed here was paired or grouped up. Hard-boiled egg man was the only lone ranger. If Alex was honest about it, part of her reason for coming this morning was to get a good look at him. Alex watched him quickly scurry to catch up with Gina. Emma was watching him too.

‘Some city type. He’s been sniffing around that woman since he arrived.’
Ah, another ladies’ man
, thought Alex.
T’riffic.
She hoped Jem hadn’t chosen a bad egg.

Alex cocked her head. ‘I didn’t catch his name at breakfast Friday. George, is it?’ She was probing. Well she was allowed, it was what sisters did, wasn’t it?

‘No, it’s Craig.’

‘Craig?’

‘Definitely Craig. I remember because it’s my brother-in-law’s name.’

Alex did another mental recap of Susannah’s house guests for an eligible bachelor she might’ve missed.

‘Oh, I was sure I heard Susannah mention George in the breakfast room.’ Alex was a rubbish liar.

Emma gave it a second or two’s thought, probably out of politeness. ‘No, don’t think so. I helped her with the booking diary this morning. She needed everyone’s car registrations
inputting under their room numbers. Definitely no Georges.’

‘A
puppy
!’ Poppy squealed, peering in through Alex’s truck window. Norma began scrambling at the open window. ‘Can she come out so I can stroke her, please?’

Poppy had been miffed when Alex had helped Finn with his raft Friday. Her little heart had been bruised each time Finn had laughed for Alex. A bundle of fur and all was forgiven.

Alex walked back towards her truck. ‘Sure you can. I’m sure Susannah won’t mind. Let’s put her on her lead though.’ Alex fished Norma out through the window and tethered her to the gateposts running alongside the parking area. Poppy dove to her knees, dropping the pegs and daisies like discarded thoughts for someone else to worry about.

Emma laughed at her. ‘So what brings you here this morning?’ she asked Alex.

Alex had stayed awake half the night with it, thinking it all over and over again. Thinking of her excuse to come over here. Alex could answer Emma with
I’ve finally brought Susannah’s casserole dish back
, or
I’ve come to suss out my sister’s boyfriend.
But the truth, the real truth, seemed more important. ‘Actually, I’ve come to see Finn.’

There. Not so hard was it? The sun hadn’t clouded over, the integrity police weren’t here to cart anybody off.

Emma smiled knowingly ‘Good for you, Alex.’ Alex wasn’t the only one Susannah had been sharing cocktails and conversation with then. Alex tensed. Susannah
wouldn’t know about yesterday though, would she? Finn wouldn’t have … no, of course he wouldn’t.

‘Oh, no, puppy! Don’t do that, you’ll hurt your neck, silly.’ Poppy yelped just as Norma teased her head from the last grip of her collar.

Alex groaned. ‘That dog is a flipping escapologist.’

Norma was onto something, excitedly sniffing the ground. Alex watched her scramble over towards Finn’s studio space.

‘She can smell the other dogs. Finn paints dogs in there,’ Poppy informed them with a spindly, outstretched arm.

‘I’d better go get her back then. Before she spoils any of Finn’s work. Bye, Emma, bye, Poppy.’ Alex smiled at Poppy but her heart was bruised again.
Sorry, Poppy. But if my dad can’t guilt me out of this, I’m afraid you’ve got no chance.

Alex made it to the doors into the studio and knocked nervously. She’d been trying not to think about her dad meeting Louisa the morning Dill drowned, trying not to dissect how his actions might also have played some small part in the events leading up to the accident. She’d promised her mother that she’d get along with her dad. And she had every intention of achieving that goal somehow. But whatever lay ahead for them now, whatever they were going to work towards, it had to be honest. It had to be unconditional. It had to include Finn.

‘Hello?’ Alex inhaled the familiar scent of oil paints and turpentine on old rags and jam jars.

Finn had his radio on. He used to paint to the radio back in college. Kerrang mostly, but sometimes, when he thought no one was listening, Smooth FM. Alex didn’t recognise the song playing, something melodic over an acoustic guitar, not enough to drown out the new tempo beating in her chest.

Norma trundled over to the figure sitting with his back to Alex and made her own introduction to Finn’s ankle.

His upper body bunched like a teenager’s as he twisted and peered down at her. ‘We meet again.’

It suddenly occurred to Alex that Finn probably didn’t want to be included in her plans to move forwards. He’d called her last night. She hadn’t answered. She’d been thinking it all out. He hadn’t called her again.

Finn glanced over his shoulder and offered Alex a perfectly polite smile, rooting her doubts firmly through the floor.

‘Another canine subject,’ Alex tried, nodding at his canvas. ‘Millie Fairbanks used to have a dog like that. She used to tie it to her wheelchair on the way to school. Do you remember?’ It was an ice-breaker at least.

Finn put a last shadow to the black Labrador’s snout and set his brush down. He twisted a cloth through his hands, the backs of his arms flexed against his pale red shirt. Alex thought of those capable arms, the way they’d held her somehow despite the slipperiness of the damp air and their impatience to tug and grasp at each other before anyone might stumble across them. Her pulse hitched up a little.

‘I remember.’ He smiled. ‘Saw it every day. Rowlands
gave it to her, to lift her spirits after she came out of hospital.’ Finn’s tone was off. Alex felt a tension.

‘Rowlands?’

‘The farmer. Millie’s puppy was supposed to go to another kid, only his dad did a runner before he’d paid for it so …’ Finn shrugged. ‘Deal was off.’

Finn scooped Norma up and ran his fingers through the ruff of her neck. Alex had already put her foot in it. She imagined a young Finn then, a little boy having to watch someone else love the puppy he’d been promised.

‘It looks great, Finn. You’ve obviously got the pet portraiture down,’ she tried.

Finn laughed a half-hearted laugh. He was laughing at her, for trying this ridiculous chit-chat.
She
was like one of those horrible teenage boys her mum had warned her about. ‘Watch out for those awful little testosteroids. They take advantage of nice young girls and then the next day, don’t even acknowledge them!’ Alex was a horrible little testosteroid.

‘It’s not exactly the National Gallery stuff,’ Finn answered.

‘But it brings a bit of extra income in,’ she pressed. ‘You’ve done so many …’ Alex gabbled, looking about the studio. ‘Is this one for anyone local?’

Finn’s eyes looked tired. ‘No. First time someone’s emailed in and just asked for a portrait, actually.’

‘Don’t they have to come and sit or something? Have photographs taken?’

‘Usually. Not with this one though, just a few emails and an order paid in full. I should’ve finished it by now, the guy’s coming to collect it tomorrow but Carrie kept on adding to the job over at the florist’s. Then I got roped into entering the raft race, so …’

The raft! It had floated off by the time they’d emerged from the waterfall. Finn had rubbed the back of his wet head and glanced downstream for a second before quietly watching Alex gather up her things.

A silence stretched out between them. He was starting to look as uncomfortable as Alex felt. Would she go and watch him in the boat race? she wondered. Would she go and cheer him on, because she wanted him to be hers and it shouldn’t matter to her who knew because he could undo her with just a look –
just a look!
– so God
only
knew what could happen if she saw him bare-chested in a Viking helmet?

‘Must love black Labradors then, I guess.’ She was struggling for conversation.

Finn raised his eyebrows and was boyish and rugged again. ‘People pay hundreds for a picture of their dog, and I’ve never had one commission for someone’s child. Weird, huh?’

‘Weird,’ she agreed. ‘Maybe you’re better off painting dogs. Humans can be tricky creatures.’

Finn’s features were hardening off again. ‘Hard to work out, you mean? Temperamental? Indecisive? Hot and cold?’ He looked at her briefly then ran a hand over his head knocking the hair from his eyes. And then like that, the
seriousness abated. When had he gotten so good at that? At shutting down any glimpse that he might be hurting in some way.

Alex cleared her throat. ‘I was thinking …
complicated
.’

Finn picked through the brushes on his worktop and started putting them into various jars. His jaw tensed. ‘You’re right, Foster. Animals are a
lot
less complicated than people. They’re more honest too. Not afraid to love you out loud.’ He began gesticulating with one of his brushes. ‘A dog sees his family and … that’s it, no holds barred, it wants to go crazy for them and protect them and enjoy them and not care about anything else in the world. Dogs are
faithful
, Alex,’ he said, whipping his head around to look at her. ‘They’re
loyal.
They don’t love you secretly and then expect it to be enough.’