Once Upon A Winter (20 page)

‘Don’t be angry,
Em . . . At the start, I just wanted everyone to hate him. I wanted all the sympathy for myself, and I needed people to keep on thinking of him as a complete bastard. And you all did. But by the time I wanted to say something, tell the truth . . . it felt too late. I’d dug myself into a hole.’

‘But . . .’ Emma stepped back, distractedly shaking a hand through her loose, russet hair. ‘But that was it, right? The only contact? He never wrote or phoned or . . .’

‘No. Never. I never saw him. Not till last night . . .’ Nell sniffed, and scrabbled in her coat pocket for a tissue. She found one - crumpled but clean - and blew her nose. ‘So you see, I can’t really stop him seeing the kids, can I? It’s up to them. But even if it wasn’t, I accepted his help, his support. I can’t pretend now that I didn’t.’

Emma put her hands up to her mouth, almost as if praying. She paced up and down again on the edge of the gravel drive. ‘I know the effect Silas has on you, Nell. You were besotted with him. You didn’t listen to anybody’s reservations about rushing into the marriage.’

‘I was young then. I’ve changed. He hasn’t got any hold over me.’

Emma spun to face her again. ‘Legally he might. Nell, you need to protect yourself. Arm yourself. You don’t know what he’s really after.’

Nell snorted self-deprecatingly. ‘Well, it isn’t me, I can tell you that right now.’

‘The kids then. Joshua and Freya. What are his plans, his intentions regarding them? Nell, I think you ought to see a solicitor. Find out where you stand. I know in theory it doesn’t look good for him, but he’s got proof he didn’t abandon you completely.’

‘He just wants to see them, get to know them better. He’s not asking for anything more.’

‘Not yet. Nell, don’t let that man get in and mess with your head again. Once was enough. You’re in a good place right now. Things are changing for you. You’ve come home to Harreloe, you’ve got Daniel now, and he really likes you, believe me.’

‘I know. I like
him
. But how’s he going to react to all this?’

‘Well, don’t let him know about it until he gets back. That’s only a few days, right? He said he’d be at the village New Year’s Eve party.’

‘He will.’

‘So you need to discuss this with him alone, before then. And in the meantime, we’ll try to see Dad’s solicitor together. Although, on second thoughts, I think he goes away to some holiday home in Tenerife over Christmas. But anyway, he’s the best one to consult over this. Dad trusts him, he’s a friend. He’ll keep your confidence. And I’ll go
with you to see him. I’ll be right beside you. We’ll work out the best course of action.’

‘OK.’ Nell nodded
. ‘OK. Thank you . . . Thanks, Em.’

Without another word, Emma reached out, dragging Nell into a tight, sympathetic embrace. But even as Nell welcomed the contact, she had to force herself to swallow the sudden, perverse urge to tell her sister to sort out her own troubled relationship before trying to interfere in anyone else’s.

Emma was no expert.

T
hen again, these days - who was?

It was not often that a child would look up at him like that, curious yet repulsed, as if he were something dubious they had trodden in. In any event, it would soon turn to something else, something malleable to make his altruistic role that much easier. Children were taught to fear strangers, yet for their sake, Silas had had to find ways around it.

Today, though, Silas shifted, discomforted, on the old rag
currently serving as a doormat.

This child, the one he had answered the front door to, stared up at him from under a pink, woollen hat. A smaller version of her mother, but with a spark of rebelliousness
Ellena had probably lacked at the same age.

‘Freya?’ Silas frowned and looked beyond her. ‘Where’s your brother?’

‘He’s not here. I came on my own.’

‘But . . . your mother knows where you are?’

‘No one knows. They think I’m in my room.’

Silas shook his head, aiming at sternness but knowing he was falling short. ‘Freya -’

‘I left a note. If they look for me in my room, they’ll know where I’ve gone.’

Silas hesitated, then stepped back. ‘You knew I was here then?’

‘I overheard them talking about it.’ The girl walked in, staring around, clearly intrigued. It was possibly the first time she had set foot in the old gamekeeper’s cottage. ‘Mum calls this the Gingerbread House,’ she said softly, taking it all in.

‘Freya . . . Why did you come? Has your mother said you can’t see me? Has she told you why I’m back?’ Silas shook his head, unclear of what his daughter’s presence here like this meant. ‘It’s Boxing Day. Why aren’t you with your family?’

She stared up at him again, still with that same disquieting look. ‘My aunt and uncle and my cousins wanted us to go to theirs today. We were supposed to. Even Nana Gwen. But things changed. Mum didn’t feel up to it.’

‘I see.’ Silas ruffled a hand through his unkempt hair. ‘Er, you’ll have to forgive me. I’ve been working. I wasn’t expecting company.’ He indicated his grubby T-shirt and jeans, and then tried to wipe his soiled hands on a clean cloth, lying near his tool case.

‘Is there water here yet? And electricity?’ The girl glanced uncertainly at the ‘camp’ set up in the living area.

‘Thankfully, yes,’ said Silas. ‘Would you like something? Some tea? Or maybe a glass of milk? I’ve got a small portable fridge.’

It seemed another irony that he was accustomed to children, had always felt at ease in their company, and yet with this one, his own daughter, he was awkward and self-conscious.

‘No. No, thank-you,’ she said stiffly, politely.

‘So . . . is your mother not well, then?’

Now the girl blinked up at him as if he had just insulted her. ‘It was horrible yesterday,’ she said, her chest swelling, evidently gathering up her words ready to hurl them at him resentfully. ‘The worst Christmas ever! No one had any fun. Mum was upset all day. And it was all your fault.  And I think you should go. I think you should go away again and not come back. And, here, you should have this back, too. Joshua likes his watch, but I don’t want this.’ She dug in her duffel coat pocket and pulled out a small, familiar box. ‘It doesn’t fit me anyway. It’s too big.’

Reluctantly, he took the green velvet box, and opened it. The gold ring was still there, with the small pearl lying in its flower-shaped clasp. ‘This ring belonged to my mother. Your grandmother Anna,’ he explained. ‘It’s an antique. I - I didn’t know what to get you. It seemed easy to buy your brother something, but . . .’

‘Well, I don’t care,’ said the girl. ‘I don’t care if it’s worth a lot of money. I don’t want it.’

‘Freya . . .’ Silas stretched out a hand, as if to abate her anger, but she took a step away from him.

‘No,’ she said, her voice impassioned, but never once rising to hysteria, remaining astonishingly controlled for a child of nine. ‘I don’t want a dad. I don’t need one. Not
you
, anyhow. While you’re around, Mum’s never going to be happy. And it was good here before you came. Mum had Dan, and he’s really nice, and we were all happier here than we’ve ever been.’

‘Dan?’

‘Daniel. Mr Guthrie. He’s Deputy Head at our school. He lives at Bryn Heulog, in the Annexe.’

‘Daniel Guthrie . . .’ The name
seemed familiar.

‘Mum and D
an - they’re dating. And he left her a pretty silk scarf for Christmas, only she was upset when she opened it, so it spoiled it for her. And that was
your
fault, because you’d turned up the way you did. So the only thing you can do is just leave us alone, because you’re ruining everything.’ She scowled, her thin eyebrows scrunching together.

Gradually, Silas was piecing the fragments of the girl’s entreaty into a coherent whole. ‘Is Daniel Guthrie up at the house now?’ he asked.

‘No,’ said the girl. ‘He went to Italy for Christmas. He’ll be back in a few days, and he won’t be pleased you’re here. He’s as tall as you are, so don’t think it will be an easy fight, because it won’t!’

Silas stifled a laugh. A sense of liberation settled ov
er him. ‘Freya,’ he said instead, driving the relief out of his voice, ‘I promise I’m not here to hinder your mother if she’s found a man who can make her happy again. That’s the last thing I would want to do. In many ways, I can probably help.’

The child seemed to waver for the first time. ‘Help?’

‘I’m used to helping people. It may not seem that way to you, but I’m not the enemy. I want nothing more than to see your mother settled and content.’

‘It would be easier
for her if you weren’t here,’ the girl said at last.

‘Possibly. But I can’t leave now. It isn’t time. There are things I need to do first.’

‘Like “get to know us”? Josh and me. And then, when you do, you’re just going to leave again? So why? Why not just leave now?’

Silas heaved his shoulders in a drawn-out sigh. ‘I can’t.’ He turned away and padded barefoot into the room that would one day become a proper working kitchen. ‘I have work to do.’

‘Here?’ The girl followed in his wake, like a small dog he couldn’t shake off. ‘You mean, in this house? Anyone can do that, can’t they? It doesn’t have to be
you
.’

‘Freya -’ he began. But the sound of a loud voice from outside, also
calling her name, made Silas stop short. ‘Your mother.’ He frowned. A jolt of panic crossed the girl’s face. ‘It’s all right. Leave it with me. Stay here a moment.’ He crossed to the back door, slipping into the boots and jacket he kept beside it, before stepping outside.

Ellena
was stalking towards him across the clearing. ‘Is Freya there?’ she called out anxiously. ‘Silas, is Freya there with you?’

‘It’s all right. The child’s fine, she’s inside. Don’t be angry with her. She came here on your behalf. She was defending you.’

‘Don’t tell me when I can or can’t be angry,’ hissed Ellena. ‘She had me worried sick!’

‘She told me she’d left a note.’

‘That doesn’t make it any better. She’s not allowed to just traipse around the woods and fields on her own, even if she stays on Dad’s land.’

‘She wasn’t “traipsing”. She had a purpose. She knew where she was going and what she needed to do when she got here.’

‘That wouldn’t stop someone snatching her, though, would it?’

‘But no one did.’

Ellena shook her head. ‘For a father, that’s irresponsible and short-sighted. Not a great start, is it?’

‘I think that’s an exaggeration,’ said Silas. ‘It’s possible you’re being too protective of her -’

‘Don’t you dare!’ She took a step closer, wagging a finger at him. ‘Don’t you dare bloody lecture me about parenting.’

Automatically, Silas reached up and took her accusing hand, curling it into a fist in his own palm. ‘I’m not the child here,
Ellena. Don’t treat me like one.’ And he released her hand, letting it drop back to her side as she glowered at him. ‘Freya came to warn me off,’ he continued. ‘She came to tell me to leave, because I was only going to ruin things for you. She told me about Daniel Guthrie.’

‘She - ?’
Ellena’s puffy eyes sprang open. The pallor of her cheeks turned to crimson. ‘She . . . told you about Daniel? What - What exactly did she say?’

‘That you’re dating him. That you’re happy. And I’ve got no wish to spoil that for you,
Ellena. But this man - the name was familiar -’

‘Yes,’ she snapped, ‘yes, he’s the same Daniel Guthrie I told you about once. Is that what you were going to say? I’m surprised you even remembered.’

‘I find it hard to forget things,’ said Silas. ‘I wondered at the coincidence.’

‘Yes, well, that’s because it isn’t. But he’s changed. He’s different. And he’s good with the children.’

Silas nodded slowly. ‘Some people are permitted to change, it would seem.’ He frowned, not one to normally indulge in sarcasm.

The woman who stood defiantly before him had altered in many respects herself since he had first come to know her almost thirteen years ago. It had been hard to note the differences the night before last, with her straggly hair and that unflattering dressing gown.

She seemed taller now than he recalled from their time together, as if her back was straighter and her shoulders squared. And more ‘in colour’ somehow, too, in that red coat and orange scarf. She had always dressed like some human chameleon before, blending into her surroundings.

Her hair - worn so much shorter once, and without a
neat fringe - had been a shapeless mass to hide behind, like a curtain. Today it hung long and loose over one shoulder; although in need of a wash. The glossy chestnut glittered in the December sunlight. Exposed rather than shielded, her face was strikingly the same as her daughter’s, but tired and strained.

‘I want a divorce,’ she said suddenly. ‘I think it’s time.’

Silas took a step back, glancing over his shoulder towards the cottage, wondering if the child could overhear. She would be pleased by this, surely.

‘I suppose you’re right,’ he said, looking back at
Ellena.

‘I should have filed before now,’ she said determinedly. ‘Everyone told me to do it, but I kept putting it off. I don’t know why.’

‘Perhaps because divorce is . . . final.’

As Silas looked at her, h
e realised he had completed what he had set out to do all those years ago. Uncovered the real, resilient woman behind the mouse-like façade. A woman who could stand alone, who could attract men, who could take control of her own future and her own fate and weave it into a promising, fulfilling tapestry.

His task was complete.

‘I have no objections,’ Silas said. ‘It’s in your hands, Ellena. Just tell me what I need to do, or sign, or say - and I’ll do it.’