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Before marrying Harry she’d lived with her parents, selling her work to pay for her keep, something her parents objected to but which her pride insisted upon.
‘But I want to. How else am I even going to begin to repay you for putting me through uni?’
Biased as he was, her father hadn’t been entirely convinced it was something she’d be able to make a living out of. Nevertheless he agreed to let her have her way, rather liking her independence of spirit.
‘We all have to start somewhere, Holly,’ her dad had said, almost apologetically. ‘I don’t buy a new painting every week and I don’t suppose anyone else does either.’
In spite of his somewhat mixed attempt at reassurance, no one was more astonished than he when one sale was followed by another and then another. Not only was Holly’s work good, it was saleable. She wasn’t a ‘name’, didn’t become an overnight success, but she was doing very nicely thank you.
Then she met Harry. They’d both picked the same bench in Trafalgar Square after she’d been to visit the National Portrait Gallery and he was whiling away the time before a meeting. He never did make that meeting and after a whirlwind romance they were married in grand style – Harry’s choice not hers – and she moved into his flat. There was no room for her to paint so she continued working at her parents’ home until they offered to help with the purchase of a house.
‘Can’t stand the mess, eh?’
‘No, Holly, but art has been your passion since you were tiny. Not that you’re much bigger now.’
‘Watch it.’
‘Anyway, this way you’ll have everything you want at your fingertips. Your mother and I are prepared to put up half the money if Harry can do the rest.’
With the proceeds from the sale of his flat Harry was able to fulfil his side of the bargain and six months after the wedding they moved into a spacious town house. Harry was adamant that she didn’t work and Holly, quite impressed by his macho attitude, had at first acceded to his wishes – though later she’d taken a job at a gallery to prevent herself climbing the walls out of boredom. However, he considered painting was what people did for a hobby and was content enough for her to continue but, as a contribution to the family coffers, no, definitely not.
By the time she took the job at the gallery he considered her earnings to be ‘pin’ money. Holly, in love and anxious to please her husband, gave up selling her own work. After all, she told herself, it’s not as if I do it for the income. She couldn’t and wouldn’t give up painting though, which under her current circumstances was just as well, since her future now depended upon her being able to support herself. She hadn’t been in the market for a few years now. Aware that fashions are always changing she just had to hope that what she did was still in demand. Emma and Holly had discussed it, naturally.
‘It’s not as if you’ve been out of touch. You’ve been working in the business for years.’
‘I know, Em, it’s just that I …’
‘And as far as I know you’ve subscribed to every magazine going.’
‘Yes, but …’
‘You’ll have to make a name for yourself, locally at least. But you’ve got the talent. You just need to be a bit pushy.’
‘Oh and you can just see me doing that, can’t you.’
‘The only way you’re going to find out is to try. And I’ll be shoving you from behind.’
‘I can feel it already,’ Holly had said, rubbing the small of her back with the back of her hand. There was no doubt about it though, Holly thought, looking across at the cottage as she passed it on her way out of town. If she got it, it had the potential to be a business as well, always supposing she could get planning permission.
Reaching the riverbank her wandering thoughts were matched by wandering hands, sifting, sorting. Several treasures were now nestling at the bottom of her backpack along with the tissue Holly always carried since the loss of a beautiful piece of bark, fragile and with its intricate patterns already, in her mind, incorporated into a montage of which it would be the central feature. Sadly it was just a crumbling mess by the time she got it home.
She could never be sure what she’d find that might need protecting. As she sifted and searched her mind ran free. On the whole she was a pretty positive person and she was beginning to realise that her positivity was returning now she was no longer with Harry. It had come as quite a shock to discover how much of her own personality she’d suppressed trying to be the wife he’d wanted. She’d allowed herself to dream of one day being an artist of note but she’d made absolutely no effort to pursue that dream.
Now though, she was ready to go for it. She was also realistic enough to know that even if she ultimately gained the recognition she so craved the journey would be long and possibly bumpy. Definitely bumpy!
She thought again of Emma, despite the distance between them her friend had been her prop through the troubled years. She too was an artist but had a pragmatic side to her nature. With a husband and two small boys, teaching suited her very well. She had a pretty decent income and holidays to match those of her children.
‘All that lovely time off,’ she said, but Holly knew how hard her friend worked. Schools weren’t the only places where teaching went on though and Holly’s gallery, if she got the cottage and the requisite permission, was large enough to use as a classroom. Why shouldn’t she teach adults? She could make some money at the same time as providing something for which she hoped optimistically if a little naively there would be plenty of enthusiasm.
It isn’t as if I won’t have time to do my own painting as well. Thanks to Mum and Dad – Holly felt the familiar lump rise to her throat when she thought of the tragic accident that had taken them both from her – there’s a financial cushion until I get myself established. A regular income would help though, even a small one.
Materials wouldn’t be a problem. They were readily available along the riverbanks or at garage sales or car boot sales – any number of sources. As far as the fundamentals went she already had more than enough basic equipment, at present in the same storage facility as her mother’s table, though there were some things she would never share. In any case she was sure people would get their own paints and brushes, or whatever, once they decided (hopefully) they liked it enough to carry on. With very little expenditure, she could set up a business at home. It’s not called cottage industry for nothing.
Turning for home and walking more quickly now, she made her way back through the village, excited about her plans and praying some of them at least would come to fruition.
***
‘So what are you going to wear this evening?’
Holly looked up from the floor where she was playing with Jake and Jamie.
‘Wear? Why?’
‘Duh! Kate and Charlie’s. Drinks and nibbles. Mind you, Kate’s nibbles always constitute a feast. No cooking for me tonight, except for the boys.’
‘Emma, I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘Drinks and nibbles. Tonight. At Ka … Have you looked at your text messages today?’
‘No, I put my phone on silent when I went down to the river and forgot all about it.’
‘Well you’d better go and sort out your glad rags. We’re going to a party.’
Holly was suddenly very still. She loved people but she loved them in small intimate groups, preferably when she knew most of them as well. A party sounded like something else. She’d met one or two of Emma and Tom’s friends on previous visits, and even since she’d come to stay, but a party?
‘Why don’t I just stay and babysit? I’m quite happy to stay at home.’
‘Did you hear that, kids? Holly wants to babysit.’ They looked indignant. ‘Haven’t you heard the term child-minding, Holly?’
Holly smiled at her godsons. ‘I guess I lost a bit of ground there, eh boys? But I’d sooner stay with you than go to some old party.’
‘No chance,’ said their mother. ‘Kate would be mortally offended. She especially asked us to bring you with. Go on. Go and pick something pretty. We’re due there at eight.’
Reluctantly Holly did her bidding but as she went upstairs she felt the excitement begin to bubble up within her. After all, it had been a long time since she’d been to a party. She tried on several combinations before finally deciding what to wear. She dressed with care, the smart navy trousers a change from her usual jeans, hugging her tiny hips atop ridiculously silly high heels – she needed all the help she could get. She chose a lacy cream-coloured top and loose-knit cream cardigan – its one detail, a single large button just above the waist, was the reason she’d bought it. Ornately carved, it set off the simplicity of the rest. She hoped to be able to take it off when she got there, but winter was fast approaching and the evenings were quite chilly. Well, cold if she was brutally honest. The lacy top was pretty though so she thought she might just have to suffer goose pimples.
***
Standing outside Kate and Charlie’s house, flanked by Emma on one side and Tom on the other, Holly’s heart was racing. Some of it was caused by apprehension but that was tempered by anticipation. She might prefer small groups but essentially Holly was a people person. All of a sudden she couldn’t wait to get inside and meet some.
Unbelievably, the first person she saw when they opened the door was the guy who’d bumped into her that morning. Well, not the first person exactly. Naturally Kate and Charlie were the first, greeting her as they did Emma and Tom, as if she was an old friend. She remembered meeting them on a previous visit to Emma and was really pleased to see them again. But behind them in their large entrance hall was the doctor chap.
Holly drew herself up to her full five foot two inches plus three for the shoes – she liked to think she was big in character, if not in stature – and moved forward to be introduced as her escorts disappeared into the room beyond. Doc was standing with two other men and a girl about the same age as her. They all looked up as Kate took her over to meet them and it was obvious from the expression on his face that her acquaintance from earlier in the day was about as delighted to see her as she was to see him.
‘This is Holly, guys. She’s new to Cuffingham. She’s staying with Emma and Tom until she finds a place of her own,’ Kate told them. ‘Holly, this is Phoebe, Gordon, Adam, and Steve. Oh, there goes the bell again. Look after her for me, will you, while I answer the door.’
Phoebe, Gordon, and Steve all smiled encouragingly at her. Adam looked as if he’d rather be on another planet, or that she would be. Also, unless she was mistaken, he was a bit red in the face.
‘It’s lovely to meet you, Holly. Adam’s just finished telling us how he crashed into you this morning.’ No wonder his face was red! ‘Not that you match his description at all. I was expecting a real firebrand, but you seem perfectly benign. I presume it was you? We don’t get too many new people in Cuffingham at this time of the year.’
Holly smiled back at Phoebe gratefully.
‘I guess that would be me then, though I didn’t realise it would be more dangerous in a country village than in London. I lived there all my life and I’ve never been mugged before.’
She smiled. It was a fairly innocuous joke after all, but she regretted it immediately, remembering that it was in fact she who’d been at fault. Before she had a chance to apologise, and without a word, Adam turned and walked away into what Holly found out later was the lounge. She didn’t know whether to be cross or embarrassed. But she was human so cross won the day.
‘That’s the second time he’s done that to me today. Is he always so rude?’
‘The thing is,’ Steve said ruefully, ‘Buttercup died. The calf survived but he’s convinced that if he’d only got there a bit sooner he could have saved them both. Feels that if he hadn’t got tied up with you he might have been in time.’
‘Tied up! But that’s ridiculous! The whole thing was over in less than two minutes.’ It was Holly’s turn now to be red-faced. ‘He can’t possibly blame me. That’s so unfair!’
‘You’re quite right, of course. But he takes this doctor/patient thing very seriously. Gets thoroughly upset if any of them die on him. He really is a damned good vet though. Come on now. Where are my manners? Let’s get you a drink.’
The four of them moved into the main reception room where Emma and Tom had gone to mingle and there were now twenty or so people gathered. Holly tried not to gasp and failed miserably. She had cause enough.
‘What a fantastic room!’
She was completely enchanted. Wider from the doorway than long, it must have measured about twenty-eight by twenty feet.
‘And look at those windows.’
The left wall was broken up by two of them, each with very deep sills. Between them was an oak unit housing several attractive and, she suspected, very expensive pieces. Her professional eye appreciated the heavy drapes with cushions covered in the same material and scattered apparently randomly on dark wooden benches filling the alcoves beneath the curtains. The opposite wall was a mirror image of the first.
‘Even with the timber lining it must be really bright in here during the day.’
Phoebe and Steve had moved off and Gordon put a glass of red wine in her hand (how did he know it was her favourite?) and, with his hand on her elbow, led her across the floor to where a huge log fire was pouring out heat from the ingle. Time to remove the cardigan and show off the lacy top.
‘Yes, Kate’s got a great touch, which is just as well because Charlie doesn’t have a clue. Leaves all that sort of thing to her.’
‘If this is the result I’m not surprised.’
Traditional furniture matched the oak panelling and three-legged stools stood either side of the fire, just far enough away not to make one’s face burn. Holly, always seduced by the smell of wood smoke, breathed it in like an animal scenting its prey. Phoebe, Steve, and Gordon did a good job of looking after her and between them made sure she mingled with all the other guests – all except Adam.
Everyone else was really nice. Adam didn’t glance in Holly’s direction the whole evening. Not that she was looking at him either. She was at a party, having a wonderful time and not having to peer over her shoulder half the time to see if Harry was behaving himself. She hardly even saw Emma and Tom but Emma did, at one stage, whisper in her ear: ‘I see you don’t want us now you’ve got new friends. Don’t forget. We’re walking you home. Unless, that is, you get a better offer.’
‘Ratbag!’ Holly said affectionately as she moved on. ‘I’ll talk to you later.’
She didn’t get a better offer. At least, not one she was prepared to accept on such short acquaintance and, though Gordon seemed very keen and offered to walk her home ‘because the village is obviously so much more dangerous than London’, she declined after a short internal struggle.
‘I appreciate your concern,’ she said with a smile, ‘but I think Emma and Tom might be offended if I didn’t think them sufficient escort to their own home.’
She’d felt an immediate attraction to this large man and had sensed a corresponding spark in Gordon, though perhaps spark was the wrong word. More like a gleam in the eye. Definitely like a gleam in the eye. But she didn’t want to be alone with him so soon after their first meeting. She hadn’t been single for long and was enjoying the feeling of freedom it gave her. At least, that’s what she told herself. In truth, though she’d left Harry behind, she wasn’t ready to move on, even on a superficial level.
As they walked home she told Emma about her confrontation with Adam that morning by the river and then at the party. Well, she told Emma and Tom but as he was somewhat the worse for wear he didn’t pay very much attention. Emma was indignant on Holly’s behalf but quite surprised as well.
‘But he’s such a sweetheart! Wouldn’t say boo to a goose. Well, of course he wouldn’t. Likes animals. Looks after them. Wouldn’t scare the shit out of them, would he?’
‘Well he certainly scared the shit out of me.’
‘I know he takes his work seriously and he’s very dedicated, but I’ve never heard of him giving anyone a bollocking before, though I do know he can be quite short. I think it’s because he’s shy.’
‘Shy! He certainly wasn’t shy this morning. Honestly, Emma, I feel awful. You don’t really think it was my fault that he couldn’t save Buttercup, do you?’
‘Course not. It’s just that Adam’s such a perfectionist, and anyway he was rather fond of Buttercup. How could you not be fond of a cow called Buttercup? He was probably just trying to lay the blame at someone else’s door because of what he might otherwise have to regard as his own shortcomings. Can’t bear to lose a patient.’
‘Yeah, that’s what Steve said. I wonder if he’s going to hold it against me for ever. I’m damned if I can see why I should be the scapegoat!’
‘Or even the scapecow,’ Emma retorted, clearly rather pleased with her little joke.
Chapter Three
Christmas was approaching hard it seemed on the heels of the party and Emma and Tom were going to stay with parents over the holidays. They’d invited Holly to go with them but it didn’t seem fair to take advantage when it was a time for families to be together. She knew both sets of parents, Emma’s particularly well, and this was going to be her first Christmas without Harry. He’d been her bolster since she’d lost her own mum and dad. Who was going to bolster her now?
To say she was apprehensive was more than an understatement but this was the new Holly. Independent-Girl was now her middle name which, she realised, taking her initials made her HIGH. What could she do to make sure she stayed that way? It was time to go to Scotland!
It wasn’t quite as random a decision as it sounded. She decided to take the opportunity to visit her uncle. Uncle Mac – no Scottish blood in her family but that had been his nickname ever since he’d moved up north when Holly was a child – had invited her several times since her mum and dad died and now seemed like a good time to accept. She hardly knew him. The only time she’d seen him in recent years was at her parents’ funeral after the accident she found it so difficult even to think about.
She was having serious second thoughts as the train carried her north. Well, she decided, short of jumping ship, or in this case train, I guess I’ve got to go through with it now. Not only were Holly’s fears unfounded, but Uncle Mac was so much like her mother only bigger, she felt an immediate sense of belonging as well.
All three of her cousins were there with their respective other halves and offspring and dinner on Christmas Day was a riotous affair. It was Hogmanay though that Holly was particularly looking forward to. She eventually came away strongly of the opinion that anyone who’s never spent New Year Scottish style ought at least to give it a try. Only once though, unless they have a very strong head.
Like many people, Holly had always used the television to check the exact time to pop open the champagne. She’d seen the spectacle and heard the bagpipes and she thought she knew how they celebrated north of the border. Television, she was forced to conclude, was nothing like the real thing. Nothing!
Once she’d regained her ability to focus and could walk in a straight line she went back to Cuffingham to stay with Emma and Tom again, promising to stay in touch with her family in Scotland. Her father hadn’t had any brothers or sisters and she realised, she’d never thought about it before, that these were her only relatives in the whole world. They’d looked after her and loved her. Tears had been shed and she’d felt a wee bit empty on the way home.
Tom was at work, Emma and the boys had gone back to school, and she was quite lonely during the day. This was due in part to the fact that she hadn’t had a single moment on her own during her trip to Scotland except when she went to bed, and the days had been so full that her nights were peaceful and dream free. It’s possible alcohol might have been a contributory factor too.
It was very quiet back in Cuffingham. Once Emma and the boys came home everything was fine. There was no way anyone could feel lonely in that household, but she wasn’t in her own home yet and the days seemed to stretch interminably.
She spent some time thinking about Harry. The exchange of letters with her solicitor didn’t help. Everything was going through as planned and, while she didn’t for one moment think she’d made a mistake – painful experience had taught her otherwise – they had spent several years of her adult life together and she couldn’t dismiss them as if they’d never happened. Nor would she have wanted to. Some of it had been good … very good. Especially in those first few years before he’d begun to stray. And later, when she thought he’d stopped straying. Later still, when she’d hoped he had.
***
Holly wasn’t the only one who’d been regretting her outburst the day she met Adam. He had remonstrated with himself more than once. Okay, so he was worried about Buttercup, but that was no excuse for such bullish behaviour. And then to follow it up by ignoring her at the party. What am I – a child? Adam too had been bowled over that day by the river, though in quite a different way from Holly.
He was normally impervious to the lures that women extended to him, completely unaware of his own charm and air of unavailability and indeed vulnerability. There are few women who can resist that. He still carried around with him the scar of a failed relationship when his fiancée had abandoned him only weeks before the wedding. It was all he’d needed to confirm that with animals, unlike people, you know exactly where you stand. If they don’t like you they let you know but if they love you there is no doubting their sincerity. So animals, already a major part of his life, became his everything. The place where he felt safe.
When Adam had bumped into Holly his reaction, instead of leaning forward to help her up, had been to step back, just a physical manifestation of what he’d been doing metaphorically for the last five years. He was ashamed of himself for such a lack of manners.
While Holly was still in Scotland Adam had met up with Emma when he went to give a talk about family pets at her school, a twice-yearly project that he enjoyed immensely. He’d taken a rabbit with him and there had been a handling session where the pupils had learned to show respect to another living breathing creature. Fits of laughter too when Adam had asked for a volunteer and, with permission, had turned the child upside down and flung him over his shoulder. ‘This is how NOT to do it.’ The volunteer had laughed loudest of all.
During Emma’s break over a cup of coffee they’d talked about Holly.
‘I know she’s beginning to feel uncomfortable being with us so long but actually I can’t wait for her to get back tomorrow. It’s like being back at uni, and school before that, when we’re together.’
‘You go back a long way?’
‘For ever. That’s why it hurt so much watching her marriage disintegrate and not being able to do anything to help – well, except listen on the phone from what felt like a million miles away.’
Adam tried not to appear too curious but Holly had piqued his interest, no doubt about that.
‘That bad?’
‘Frankly he was a bit of a bastard. Handsome. Charming. I’ve no doubt he loved Holly, still does probably, and she him, but one woman is never enough for his sort. In the end she couldn’t take it any more and to be honest I’m not sure she’ll ever trust anyone ever again.’
Adam had all the confirmation he needed that any approach to Holly would be rebuffed, even if he could have gotten past the disaster of their first two meetings.
***
When Holly returned to Cuffingham she resumed her voluntary work at the local old folks’ home, something she’d started doing quite soon after moving in with Emma and Tom. She’d spent a couple of weeks unsuccessfully looking for temporary work but this was more because she wanted something constructive to do rather than that she needed an income. Aside from her work at the gallery, helping at a nearby centre was one of the ways she’d filled her time while living in London. She had a gift for it. And it made her feel fulfilled.