This Is Your Life (16 page)

All was quiet as
Lizzie lay drowsily in bed the next morning - apart from the sounds of breathing from next to her. As it came to her that in fact, she wasn’t alone, she was instantly awake.  A wave of utter dismay engulfed her, as it dawned on her what she’d done.

L
eaping out of bed far too quickly, Lizzie’s head thumped vengefully. She’d been saving that sloe gin too. For a special occasion. Slowly the events of the previous evening were all too painfully coming back. Oh God. She felt terrible.

Creeping downstairs,
she drank two large glasses of water and put the kettle on. Sitting at her table, waiting for what felt like an age for it to boil, she rested her pounding head in her hands.  They hadn’t had they? Surely not. But she hadn’t drunk quite enough to forget that unfortunately, yes, there was no getting away from it. She was very much afraid they had.

A little while later,
there were heavy footsteps on the stairs, and Jamie appeared in the doorway.  Sighing, with that familiar frown back in place, Lizzie realised how much he irritated her.  Somehow it made it worse.

‘It’s bloody
cold…’ he muttered.

‘Jamie…’
she started, but he put a hand on her shoulder.

‘Don’t,
Eliza,’ he said apologetically. ‘It was the champagne. I think we both know it was a mistake.  It would never work between us. Can we just leave it at that? I should never have come here.’

Relief flooded through
Lizzie, but she knew she wasn’t blameless. ‘Let me make you some coffee before you leave,’ she offered, thankful he wasn’t going to argue.

‘What
did you get that?’ he said suddenly, picking up the tiny painting Eucalyptus had given her.

‘It’s a Christmas present.  The artist lives in the village
.’

‘
Very fluid… Rather like an early Kandinsky...  Fascinating…’ Jamie remarked pretentiously, studying it closely.

This time when they said goodbye, there was a finality in their words. Lizzie stood in silence as Jamie put on his shoes.

‘
They’ve got water in,’ he said irritably, picking one of them up and disgustedly shaking it out onto the floor.  ‘Honestly.  I only bought them a week ago.’

It was only after he’d gone when
Lizzie went to mop it up, she caught the distinctive smell.  Darren had left his mark.

Not at all liking the way she was feeling, Lizzie pulled on a fleece and in need of a distraction, drove slowly up to Hethecote.  Seeing that everything there was under control and not feeling very good company, she drove home again and went to dig her vegetable garden, but the bitter, damp cold did nothing to purge what remained in her head of last night.   On this occasion, she didn’t need anyone else to tell her she’d made a mistake. It hung over her like a black cloud and swamped her.  Since moving here, she hadn’t had a good word to say about him and yet she’d just had sex with him. What did that make her?
Tart, slut, easy lay…
She tortured herself with the words, refusing to entertain anything to the contrary – that she was none of those things, of course she wasn’t.  Yes, she was vulnerable still, more than she realised perhaps, and a little confused, most definitely.  But she’d made a mistake, nothing more, nothing less.

Lizzie hid away, kept herself to herself, until
a few days later, there was another celebration as she, Katie and Antonia joined the merry crowd at the Old Goat to see in the New Year. Still reeling slightly from the night with Jamie, Lizzie was coming to terms with the realisation that she still had a way to go. All it had taken was Christmas, closely followed by Jamie who’d timed his visit to perfection, and she was still as vulnerable as ever.  Throw in the alcohol… It could have been much worse, she kept telling herself, struggling to imagine how.

Katie
had been astounded to hear that Jamie had been here. She’d guessed immediately that there was something she wasn’t telling.

‘Lizzie…..Are you absolutely positively sure that there’s nothing else I should know?’ she’d demanded.

The silence had said it all.  Lizzie cursed the way that Katie could always tell. Silly to imagine she could hide it.

‘Oh Lizzie…’ Katie was for once, dumbfounded.

As had been Antonia, who’d just stared at her appalled. ‘But Lizzie. Thought you couldn’t stand him. What made you change your mind?’

So h
aving thoroughly confounded her friends, this evening she kept a low profile. Amid the frivolity and shenanigans at the Goat, Lizzie quietly sipped her one glass of wine, for this, she’d decided, was her penance. Staying sober and very much in the background, she watched as everyone else threw themselves into the party. Katie and Antonia were by now having a whale of a time, sharing another bottle of wine magicked up by an ever-attentive Toby, and dancing flamboyantly to the cheesy music being belted out by Dickie the DJ, with his shirt open to the waist and his dated collection of seventies hits from the Bee Gees and Donna Summer. 

Eucalyptus was there, jollier than Lizzie had ever seen her, with a much younger, very handsome man in tow. Antonia informed them that his name was Mac.  The drummer had been given the boot and Cassie fancied him like mad. Lizzie could quite see why… Mac was lean, mean and very handsome, with dark eyes and thick brown hair, and about the same height as the lofty Eucalyptus. Poor Cassie. It seemed she’d set her heart on Euc’s toy boy.

‘He’s wasted on her,’ muttered Antonia disparagingly
in Lizzie’s ear. ‘Fine young specimen like that hooked up with a lanky old fossil like Euc…  Oh golly, more champers…how lovely darling!  Oh, we
must
dance to this!’ she added, whisking Toby away to the mellow sounds of the Little River Band’s Reminiscing.

Pete was there, actually enjoying himself for once, smiling broadly at everyone
in his best beer goggles, and Bert and Mollie came early and wisely left early, before the party got too rowdy.

Tim, on a rare reprieve from his duties, also joined the fray
- quickly homing in on a delighted Katie.  Then Darius and Angel arrived together, recently returned and most prettily tanned from a fabulous ski-ing holiday in St Anton, glammed to the nines and ready to party.

‘Darling wallflower,’ said Angel theatrically
, kissing Lizzie, when he discovered her hiding in a corner.  He smelt wonderful.  ‘Why aren’t you strutting your stuff with the other tarts?’

‘Oh Angel, if I told you you’d never believe me,’
Lizzie said sorrowfully, just about to divulge all, when he leapt up.  ‘Darling, I’ll be right back.  Now don’t go anywhere…’

She
sat there and watched, part of it and yet… Tonight she wasn’t – not really.  It was just after eleven when she left the merry crowd and slipped quietly out of the side door.  But as if she didn’t have enough on her mind, fate had a final shocker for her and timed to split-second perfection, Lizzie collided with her mystery man.  He stood there, holding the door for her. 

‘Leaving so soon?’ he asked, an unreadable look on his face.

She nodded, feeling that pounding in her chest again, wishing she knew what to say.  But wit and humour had deserted her tonight and all she wanted was to escape.

But h
e stood, not quite letting her past.  ‘I saw you in here on Boxing Day.’ 

‘I was with a – a friend…
I have to go,’ she said frantically instead.

‘Happy New Year,’ he
looked at her uncertainly.

‘Thanks.’  Then
she added, ‘um, you too,’ and smiled a small smile, before running out into the dark.

Lizzie counted away the last minutes of the year with a mug of hot chocolate and her cat, minutes that ticked slowly by as she sat alone watching the flicker of flames in the hearth.  A year that had been good in so many ways now seemed less so, and who knew what the coming one would hold.  Certainly no drunken flings with frowning ex-boyfriends. But as midnight approached, Darren stood up and paced around, then yowled at her and the air filled with a strange sense of expectancy. 

The festive season
was soon over, much to Lizzie’s relief. Her mood was still low and the night with Jamie still hung over her completely out of proportion.

It was good
to be engrossed in work again too, even though the weather stayed cold and bleak for the rest of the month. Lizzie kept busy nonetheless, spending as much time as she could up at Hethecote Farm, which went some way to restoring her sense of self-belief, as she tried desperately to bury the Jamie episode for good.

Miriam had discharged herself from hospital, though was
having to take it easy, and was enormously grateful to all her extra helpers who were continuing to bear the brunt of the work needed to keep the farm running smoothly.

‘You should go home,’ said Miriam
one morning, seeing Lizzie’s pinched face and blue hands, as she mucked out one of the donkeys.

‘But you
still need my help,’ protested Lizzie.  ‘And I haven’t finished Sid’s…’

Miriam stood leaning over the door.

‘Whatever it is, it can’t be that bad,’ she said gently.

Lizzie st
opped what she was doing and stared at the straw.  ‘It is,’ she mumbled.  ‘It honestly, truly is…’

Miriam was quiet for a moment.  ‘You know, you can tell me if it would help…
Not much surprises me… You’ve been through such a lot…’

Lizzie had told her about losing her mother.  ‘I’m fine, really – it’s just, sometimes it just comes back and hits me out of nowhere.  I can be busy doing something else, and then when I remember, it still shocks me
…like it’s just happened…’  Once she’d started, the words tumbled out.

‘I know what you mean…’  A look Lizzie hadn’t seen before crossed Miriam’s face.  ‘I think it just takes time… Much longer than you might expect it to.  But it does get easier, if it’s any help to know that.’

Lizzie looked at her.  ‘I did something stupid and now I feel like an idiot.  It’s my fault, I can’t blame it on grief or anyone else.  And I really don’t like what I did.’

‘Oh
Lizzie...  Well, if it’s any consolation, I’ve made mistakes too.  Huge ones, especially after Andrew died.  I was a mess – honestly.  Couldn’t see straight about anything.  My poor children… You wouldn’t believe the decisions I made.  We all do it, you know. You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself.’

But a
side from the feeling that she’d let herself down, worst of all was that her shiny new life seemed tarnished, her weakness illuminated with frightening clarity. 

Lizzie
started running again, punishing herself, running further than usual whatever the weather, her trainers sodden and fingers blue, her legs plastered in mud. All this to prove to herself that she had a shred of self-discipline.  And then one day, a while later, she woke up and understood.  Miriam was right and she’d simply made a mistake, no more, no less. And it was time to put it behind her.

The next few weeks passed uneventfully. Antonia was busy with her horses.  She’d taken in a couple of liveries and was out hunting every daylight hour, Cassie too when school permitted. She was also still helping at Hethecote, much to Lizzie’s surprise.

‘Well, poor old Miriam can’t do it all.  And you know, darling, she does need someone to ride that hunter of hers
...’

Katie hadn’t been to stay since the New Year
, though she’d let slip that Tim had been up to London.  Once or twice…Lizzie tried to picture him there in his land rover, dining in the kind of restaurants that Katie went to – and failed, wondering instead who was looking after his sheep.

L
ike the surrounding countryside, the village itself seemed dormant, and Lizzie threw herself into her work. Then deciding she needed some company, she invited herself to brunch with Darius and Angel and paid a long overdue visit to Sparkie’s.

‘Come late,’ Nola had said mysteriously.  ‘We’ll close up and have some time to chat.
  Anyway, we’ve added something and you’re the perfect person to show it to.’

It was one of those dreary Saturdays that
Lizzie finally got there - a grey one where the sun never showed, the temperature barely lifting.  The shops were quiet after the usual madness of the sales and the bell gave its familiar tinkle as she opened the door and went in.

‘Lizzie!’  Julia kissed
her on both cheeks and took her hand.  ‘oh, I’m so glad you’ve come!  Here - come and see what we’ve been working on.  You wouldn’t believe how quiet it’s been, but we’ve been busy, so busy… Look!’

She led Lizzie through a door into
a small room Lizzie hadn’t seen before, where Nola was halfway up a ladder finishing the last letter of the words she was painting on the wall…’
so may it be…’

‘What’s that?’ 
Lizzie stared at the entire sentence, trying to grasp its meaning. 

‘May the circle be open and never unbroken, so may it be...’

‘Oh Lizzie
!  Come and sit down.  Let me explain…’ 

T
here were armchairs and a sofa with cushions in warm shades of pink and lilac.  On the windowsill were candles, one of which had just been blown out, with an odd shaped stone and a single rose in a bottle.  The lighting was soft and the walls muted shades with the faintest silhouettes of trees painted on them.  It was like sitting in the middle of a forest.  Lizzie sank into one of the armchairs, opposite a large curtained area with spotlights and mirrors.

‘To those who know, it’s a sign,
’ said Nola, slightly hesitantly, ‘and to those who don’t…You do know, don’t you - that many of our customers come in here searching for far more than just clothes.  Something more elusive - like an identity...  Clothes make a huge difference of course, but that’s only part of it.’

‘Do you remember,’ added Julia
gently, ‘the first time you came in here?  You were looking around for ages, and in the end we helped you choose things.  How did you feel when you left?’ she asked anxiously.

Nola took
her hand.

‘Fantastic,’
Lizzie answered honestly.  ‘Because you found things I’d never have chosen and they were wonderful to wear.  Not one of them was a mistake.’

‘But it didn’t solve everything, did it Lizzie?’ said Nola gently.

Lizzie looked at them, wondering what they were getting at.

‘There was an emptiness in you.  A sadness – something that needed to heal…’

A flabbergasted Lizzie just gasped.  That sentence described exactly how she’d felt.

‘You see,’ said Nola slowly, ‘we can help
with more than just the right clothes.  So many people who come in here are lost.’

‘We just thought,’ said Julia, looking at Nola uncertainly, ‘that if we could
give them
something
just from being in here, they could go away changed. Renewed, if you like.’

Lizzie
frowned.  She couldn’t see what they were getting at. 

Nola
took a deep breath and took one of Lizzie’s hands.  ‘Everything is about consciousness, Lizzie.  It interacts with the energy of the universe.  All most people want to do is live in love and joy…’

‘…in perfect love and perfect trust,’ added
Julia mysteriously, almost as if part of a ritual. 

They both looked at
her.  Julia took her other hand, then Nola’s and closed her eyes.

‘It’s just that
they’ve forgotten
how
…’

It didn’t make sense
.  What was all this holding hands and ‘energy of the universe’?  It sounded like some new age poppycock, but Lizzie knew Nola and Julia well enough to believe they had their reasons. 

‘What’s really going on in your life, Lizzie,’ said Nola so quietly, ‘goes way beyond what you can see...’

But discomfited though she was, as Lizzie sat there listening to them, imagining shadows flickering on the walls and hearing the sound of the river outside, there seemed an odd sort of resonance to their words.

January passed, then most of February. Lizzie spent long, grey days at her desk when the weather was at its worst, working on her design for Ginny and Edward. Then a weak March sun reappeared, and after hibernating since the New Year, the village slowly stirred back into life. And as it awakened, Lizzie felt something in her awaken too, as Nola’s words came back to her.  As she watched the smallest buds miraculously appear on the trees and daffodil bulbs poke their brave shoots through the chilled earth, she had to concede that perhaps there really was something in this energy of the universe hokum.

Eucalyptus, an unlikely vision in floaty dark grey,
was fleetingly seen as she flitted up to the church by dusk, a diaphanous ghost on a mission to free the bells. Wednesday evenings were well known throughout the village, as it prepared to be subjected to the pealing cacophony that was the amateur bell ringers club. Quiz night restarted at the Star, and after barely ticking over since Christmas, the WI were back in full force, discussing recipes or listening to Betty’s account of her lunch party, or whatever it was that they did over there.

And Antonia
too re-emerged from all that hunting, bouncing down the lane on a very much larger than life Hamish, breathing smoke through his nostrils like a dragon.

Having started running, Lizzie was determined to keep it up, venturing further
through the fields as the days grew longer.  The ground still squelched underfoot in places, and flocks of massively expectant sheep patiently awaited the arrival of their unborn offspring. It was in one of these fields that she stumbled across Tim in muddy wellies and overalls, on his knees with a stricken ewe. 

He nodded.
‘Hi Lizzie. Sorry, bit busy here. She’s got the third one stuck…’

Fascinated
and horrified at the same time, Lizzie found herself transfixed as the stuck lamb slowly emerged. ‘Three?’ she asked.  ‘I thought they only had one or two…’

The farmer who had the ewe in a stronghold, nodded at
her.

‘Blinking nuisance it is. Means he’ll be bottle fed if he makes it at all. Already got half a dozen of ‘em in the kitchen.’ Glumly he added, ‘Like a blinking stable it is.
Bloomin’ stinks. Wife won’t be too happy to have another.  Really don’t think I can take this one back too…’

The farmer and Tim exchanged glances.

Lizzie, who had always imagined lambs coming into the world in cosy barns onto a soft bed of clean straw, couldn’t bear this unceremonious arrival into the wet mud, only to be unwanted.

‘Want me to take it, Brian?’ Tim asked the farmer.

‘Aye. Got no use for it. And you may as well be off, lad. Don’t think there’s much more action round here tonight.’

Meaning the farmer didn’t want to be billed for another
second longer than was necessary. Holding the little creature under his arm, Tim looked over at Lizzie. ‘Want a lift?’ 

To start with they walked in silence, but Lizzie absolutely had to ask that burning question, about the fate of unwanted third-born baby lambs, such as this one.  It was tiny and so weak, and was making the most heart-rending bleating sounds.

Tim sighed, as he tucked the little creature into a blanket in the back. 

‘I’ll probably end up keeping it with mine if it survives,’ he said. ‘Though in the interest of maintaining professional appearances, I try to keep this sort of thing quiet. The farmers would never look at me the same way again if they knew. All my sheep were unwanted of course. Acquired just like this one.  It’s how Cassie came to have Dave…’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘Farmers would think I was mad.’

And then
Lizzie had a brainwave.

‘Do you think Antonia would let Cassie have another?’

That Friday,
Katie had driven down again, quite possibly to do with Tim being up to his elbows in lambing, Lizzie suspected and Antonia too had popped in en route to meeting Toby for another night of unbridled passion.  The cottage was filled with the smell of the soup simmering on the cooker and a half drunk bottle of wine was on the side.  Topping up Antonia’s glass to the very top and waiting until she’d drunk at least half of it, Lizzie took the bull by the horns.

‘Don’t you think Antonia,
that Dave would be so much happier if he had another little sheep keeping him company?’ she started.

‘Have you been talking to Tim?’ she enquired.  ‘Only strangely enough, he asked me the exact same thing.  So there’s another orphan going is there?’

‘It’s tiny.  Tim’s got it at the moment, but Cassie could raise it to live with Dave.  You’ve got plenty of room out there… and it might keep Dave outside,’ she added persuasively.

Antonia snorted.  ‘More like
ly I’ll end up with two of the damn things in the kitchen.  I’ll think about it.  Anyway, could we go please?  Tobes probably got there yonks ago.’