Angus enthusiastically elected himself as the person most appropriate to scrutinise my artistic skills and followed me up to my room to look through the folder I had hoped to keep hidden in the cubby hole under the window. Had I been worried that my unpredictable feelings for Gabe were poised to take centre stage, I needn’t have, because they weren’t going to get the chance to dominate my imagination for a good while yet.
‘Well,’ he chuckled as we went, ‘this is all a turn up for the books.’
I didn’t say anything.
‘All these years we’ve known you, Hayley, and we’ve never once seen you with a pencil or a paintbrush in your hand. Although, now that I think of it, your grandmother was always telling us that you were keen on art when you were at school, and that she thought you had a real talent.’
‘Was she always telling you that?’ I gasped, spinning around and almost knocking him back down the stairs. ‘Did she really think that?’
Neither of my parents had ever shown even the slightest interest in my sketchbooks when I used to sit drawing while they were immersed in the soaps. Not that I went out of my way to show them what I had been up to, of course, but I was rather taken aback that my nan had been so aware of what I was doing.
She wasn’t what you’d call an artistic type, and I never really thought my efforts would have been of any interest to her. I had foolishly lumped her in with the rest of the family when it came to certain things, but, given all the love and help she gave me when I needed her most, I shouldn’t have. I shouldn’t have assumed that she was the same any more than I should have presumed Mum would never find the courage to change her course.
‘She did,’ Angus nodded. ‘She was very proud of you, you know.’
‘Yes,’ I whispered, swallowing down the lump in my throat. ‘That, I did know.’
I didn’t let myself think about her all that often, but her voice, telling me how brave she thought I was, was still as clear as a bell in my head.
‘She was a wonderful woman,’ Angus sighed, ‘occasionally fierce,’ he added with another chuckle, no doubt remembering all the times she had scolded him for messing up her hard work, ‘but always fair.’
She had certainly been a formidable woman with strong, traditional beliefs about relationships, yet she had made sure she stood firmly by me when my parents threw me out after my pregnancy became public knowledge. She told me right from the start that she wasn’t going to let her one and only granddaughter feel isolated, even though, for the most part, I was.
She revealed how she was ashamed of my mother, not me. Mortified by how her own daughter had treated her only child. She was the one who arranged a roof over my head with Catherine and Angus; she was the one who made me believe that everything was going to be all right. And then she died and the baby died and, foolishly, I returned home.
Her death and my miscarriage had happened so close together that I could barely separate my last remaining memories of her from those of my time in the hospital. I hated that, but was thankful that taking on her role as housekeeper as soon as I ducked out of school had kept her close in other ways.
‘And, of course,’ Angus continued, ‘we would have asked about your love of art ourselves, but what with everything else that happened when you first came here, I suppose it just all got forgotten.’
‘Well, I’m pleased it did,’ I interrupted. ‘I wouldn’t have wanted to talk about it, even if you had asked.’
Drawing and painting had quickly come to remind me of nothing other than the man who had deserted me and the baby I had lost. Those negative feelings were entirely my own fault, of course. I was the one who had told myself certain things and repeated them out loud so often that I had come to believe them. One day, I would have to face up to that, but for now I was focused on getting over Gavin and quashing my feelings for Gabe. That added heartbreak could wait.
‘But, did you really intend to put it all away for ever?’ Angus asked, interrupting my emotional thoughts for the second time that morning.
‘Yes,’ I sighed, pushing open my bedroom door and thinking of more than my sketchbooks. ‘That was the general idea.’
I don’t think I’d ever known Angus to be speechless before, but as he worked his way through the folder and I stood fiddling with my cuticles, trying to pretend it wasn’t all happening, he was completely silent. He lingered longest over the most recent sketches; the ones I had started after Gavin had unwittingly roused the sleeping beast and I hadn’t been able to stop myself from picking up a pencil.
‘But Hayley,’ Angus eventually said, ‘I really don’t know what to say.’
‘Because you can’t believe that someone like me could do something like that?’ I asked, pointing at the books now spread across the bed.
I instantly regretted my harsh suggestion. He had every right to look hurt.
‘Sorry,’ I said, ‘that didn’t come out right.’
‘No,’ he said, ‘I’m sorry because that is partly what I was thinking.’
At least he was honest.
‘This is all such a shock,’ he continued, looking from me to the books and back again. ‘I’m seeing you in a whole new light.’
‘Oh god,’ I said, theatrically rolling my eyes and planting my hands on my hips, ‘you’re not going to start going around telling folk I have hidden depths or anything, are you?’
‘But you do, my girl,’ he beamed. ‘You do.’
I could tell he was completely reassessing me; totally rejigging what he thought he knew and trying to work out where this surprisingly artistic piece of the jigsaw would fit. I wasn’t sure it would fit anywhere anymore. I had spent too long trying to squeeze it out.
‘Have Anna and Molly always known about this?’ he asked, his eyes returning to the bed.
‘No,’ I told him. ‘They found my folder the day I was moving out of the Rose Room. I’d hidden it under the bed and they happened to stumble upon it.’
‘Well, thank goodness they did,’ Angus cried. ‘I can’t believe you’ve been hiding your light under a bushel for so long.’
‘Bed, actually,’ I quipped.
No matter how serious the situation, I just couldn’t seem to stop myself. My make-a-joke-out-of-anything-uncomfortable default button was firmly on and burning brighter than ever.
‘Well, whatever,’ he went on, ignoring my silliness, ‘you, my girl, have been keeping your talent a secret for far too long.’
I shrugged my shoulders and dropped my arms to my sides, unsure as to how I felt about what was happening. Just because everyone now knew about my talent, that didn’t mean that I would be properly taking it up again. Sure, I had fiddled about a bit recently, but I had no intention of taking it further than that.
‘These are new, aren’t they?’ Angus asked. ‘These have been done quite recently.’
There was no denying it. The pencilled date in the corner of the pages was a giveaway for a start.
‘Yes,’ I admitted. ‘During the last few months, I’ve been having a quick doodle, as Anna so succinctly put it.’
Angus nodded and carried on flicking through the pages.
‘But why?’
‘Why what?’ I frowned.
‘Why did you start again?’
I moved some of the papers to one side and sat on the edge of the bed.
‘It was the scorching scaffolder’s fault,’ I huffed. ‘He remembered that I used to carry this folder around at school, along with what was inside it, and that, in turn, got me thinking again.’
‘And you felt compelled to draw something?’
I nodded. That had been about the size of it. Once the thought had been planted so firmly back in my head I had been powerless to resist it. I looked at the pictures I had drawn of the hall during the summer and realised that I didn’t actually equate them with the painful memories that were tied up with the work I had produced at school at all, but that was probably because they were so different.
My style had changed. A lot.
Apparently, during the time I hadn’t been physically exercising my creative muscle, it had still been getting a thorough mental workout, and my eye now focused on different details, quirky little things that stood out, which I had managed to capture. Some of it looked and felt completely alien to me because it was so different, but I liked it. Not having to stick to a curriculum had given me more freedom to develop and explore different subjects. I supposed, without being conscious of it, I had developed my own style.
‘And you plan to carry on?’
‘Oh, no,’ I said, jumping back up and rubbing my hands down my jeans, trying to brush the suggestion away. ‘Definitely not.’
Angus looked surprised.
‘There’s no point,’ I went on. ‘Maybe one day, in the future, perhaps,’ I added, trying to shut him up. ‘When I’m retired.’
‘But no one retires here,’ Angus laughed, ‘you know that.’
‘Well, whatever.’ I shrugged. ‘There’s no point even thinking about it now, is there? There’s always so much to do here that I don’t have time for any of this. I should never have started again. It’s too difficult. It’s all wrapped up with what happened at school and—’
I could hear the words coming out of my mouth, trying to justify my reasons for stopping again, but there was a part of my brain, the same part that had fired up when I was telling Anna why I was packing up my pencils, that was even less willing to accept the old arguments, now. Especially as I had only seconds before acknowledged – mentally at least – that what I had drawn this summer wasn’t wrapped up in the past at all. I really didn’t associate my new drawings with Gavin, so I could hardly pretend that every time I drew something new my personal life was headed for a man-shaped disaster.
Or could I?
If I could convince Angus that I thought my art was the catalyst behind every bad thing that happened to me, and that, consequently, it always ended up making me feel utterly miserable, then perhaps he’d let me off the hook. Perhaps he’d let me pack it all away and look for someone else to design his precious Winter Wonderland map and posters.
‘Hayley, I want you to draw the map for the Winter Wonderland and design the posters and adverts,’ he interrupted, cutting across my excuses and not even giving me a chance to lock and load my faux theory.
‘But I can’t,’ I told him, feeling suddenly hot.
‘In this style,’ he added, picking up one of the new drawings.
‘No way. I can’t do it. I don’t have the time.’
‘I’m your boss, I’ll give you the time.’
My brain was scrabbling for reasons to turn him down.
‘You can’t afford me,’ I blurted out.
‘You aren’t going to charge me.’
‘But what if something bad happens?’ I wheedled. ‘It’s always worked out that way in the past. Look at what’s just happened with Gavin . . .’
‘Don’t be so ridiculous,’ Angus tutted. ‘He wasn’t unfaithful because you’d been sketching! He did that because he has no morals and even less self-control.’
I bit my lip. He was right. It was ridiculous and Gavin was a guy without principles. My make-believe theory had crashed and burned before it was even launched.
‘Well, in that case,’ I snapped, losing my temper a little, ‘how about, I just don’t want to do it?’
‘I don’t believe you.’
He was right about that as well because, ever since the moment the map and posters had been mentioned down in the kitchen, I had been planning designs out in my head, right down to the last detail. I even had a festive theme in mind.
‘Can I at least think about it?’ I begged, biting down harder on my lip.
‘I’d rather you just got on with it.’
‘But it isn’t as simple as that.’
‘Hayley,’ he sighed, ‘it’s as simple as you want it to be.’
That was Angus’s mantra when it came to pretty much any challenge he faced in life. Even those put forward by his patient and long-suffering wife. Perhaps I should tear a leaf out of his book and just get on with it? But, of course, the big question was, had I reached a point where I felt I deserved to take up the one thing in my life that made me really happy again?
And not only that, I had to consider, that if I took this challenge on I wouldn’t just be secretly scribbling away for a few snatched minutes and then hiding the results. This project would be making its way out into the world, possibly travelling even further than the reaches of Wynbridge, and there was every chance that folk would come to know that I was the face behind the drawing board.
‘And by the way,’ Angus added without a thought for my emotional inner turmoil, ‘I’m not sure I should be telling you this right now, but as he’s already come up in conversation . . .’
My stomach lurched in fear of what he was going to come out with next.
‘Who?’
‘The so-called scorching scaffolder.’
‘What about him?’
‘He came and found me at the bonfire party last night.’
‘What?’ I choked. ‘Why? What the hell did he want?’
‘To pay back the money I loaned him.’
‘No way!’
I couldn’t believe it. Gavin was always skint. Where on earth would he have found the money to do that?
‘Way,’ said Angus, trying to grasp the youthful vernacular.
I narrowed my eyes, my brain in bits.
‘Cash or cheque?’ I asked.
If it was a cheque it was bound to bounce.
‘Cash,’ Angus smiled, ‘every last penny, and he asked me to tell you that he was sorry for being such a . . . well, let’s just say he said to tell you he was sorry.’
I didn’t give two hoots about his apology, especially after how he had behaved the last time we’d met, when Gabe had to step in, but it was a relief to know he’d paid Angus back in ready notes. Assuming they weren’t counterfeit.
‘Was he on his own?’ I couldn’t resist asking, my mind tracking back to the text that had interrupted my moment with Gabe, which I still hadn’t read.
‘I think so,’ Angus shrugged. ‘And he didn’t stay long.’
Back in the kitchen, Dorothy was still doling out coffee and warm croissants and no one had budged from their seats.
‘Is there literally no work to do around here today?’ I tutted as I pulled my phone out of my jeans’ pocket and plonked back down in my chair.
‘Apparently not,’ smiled Catherine.
‘Well,’ said Anna, cutting to the chase. ‘Are you going to do it?’
She sounded exasperated and I intended to keep her in that emotional state for as long as possible. Molly, on the other hand, was stirring her coffee and gazing into space, so tormenting her was not an option. There was a lot to be said for living in a dream world.
‘No,’ I said, ‘she isn’t.’
‘All right,’ Angus countered. ‘She’s going to think about it.’
‘Excellent,’ beamed Anna, rubbing her hands together and looking thoroughly impressed with herself.
‘Which literally means just that,’ I told her firmly. ‘I’m just going to mull it all over.’
‘Well, can you do it by the end of the day?’ asked Jamie, looking up from his notepad. ‘We need to crack on.’
He carried on staring at me.
‘What?’ I frowned.
‘I just can’t believe that you’re an artist, Hayley.’
‘And yet,’ I butted in, ‘I have no trouble at all believing that you’re a—’
‘My goodness,’ laughed Dorothy, fanning herself with a tea towel, ‘it’s just like old times.’
I picked up my phone and opened Gavin’s message. My eyes scanned over the lines of text. I wasn’t sure what I had been expecting, but his words were as much of a surprise as his loan repayment. There was no boasting about the fact that he had come up with the money to put things right, and no lame attempt to justify his horrid behaviour, either in the gents’ loos or when we’d argued outside the pub.
‘What’s got you so engrossed?’ Anna asked when she spotted me scrolling back and shaking my head.
‘Stating the obvious,’ she tutted, ‘who’s it from?’
‘None of your business,’ I said, slipping the phone back into my pocket.
‘It’s not from Gavin, is it?’ suggested Molly.
She really did have an uncanny knack of putting her two pennies worth in when it was least needed.
‘Does she look upset?’ Anna cut in. ‘Is she on the verge of tears?’
‘Do you seriously think I’d risk ruining my eyeliner on him?’ I blinked back. ‘He’s hardly worth that, is he?’
‘I knew you looked different,’ said Dorothy, staring at my face. ‘You’ve totally gone back to your old look.’
‘And is that all right with you?’ I snapped.
I was getting a bit fed up being the subject of so much attention.
‘I think it makes you look a bit hard,’ said Molly. ‘More like how you used to be.’
‘That’s because I am how I used to be,’ I told her, although now I wasn’t so sure that it was possible to completely shrug off something you’d tried on.
From what I could make out, there seemed to be a tiny fragment, an indelible impression, that couldn’t be erased, even if you didn’t want it. Apparently, I was destined to carry a little of my softer self around, whether I liked it or not.
‘I should never have changed or even tried to be any different.’
Had I not blurred my edges I was sure I wouldn’t have succumbed to squishy feelings about my new neighbour, and I would certainly have been more able to convince the Connellys that the artist formerly known as Hayley was no longer in residence.
‘So, is it from him then?’ asked Anna, who was determined to not give up just yet.
‘Is what from who?’
‘The text,’ she reiterated. ‘Is it from Gavin? Because if you really are determined not to let him get to you, then we’ll never be able to tell if he’s been back in touch, will we?’
‘But why would that matter?’
‘Because we love you,’ said Molly. ‘And we want to protect you.’
‘We don’t want to see you get hurt again,’ Anna said softly.
‘And we need to know if he’s going to turn up so Gabe can set Bran on him,’ added Molly.
I’d forgotten Gabe was still here, sitting quietly at the end of the table and taking it all in.
‘You’d be better off setting Suki on him,’ he smiled, affectionately looking down at his gently snoring giant of a dog. ‘If it’s fire and fury you’re aiming for, I’d go for the tiniest dog with the biggest attitude.’
We all laughed at that and I supposed they did have my best interests at heart.
‘Well,’ I said graciously, ‘thank you all. I appreciate your concern and can confirm that, yes, the text is from Gavin, but, no, we don’t need to worry about setting any of the dogs on him. He won’t be darkening our door again, and even if he did, he wouldn’t have any impact on me. He won’t be hurting me again because I won’t let him – or anyone else for that matter.’
‘But don’t forget to leave at least a little room in your heart for love, Hayley,’ said Molly dreamily.
‘Er, no,’ I told her. ‘I certainly won’t be letting my guard down again, thank you very much.’
My thoughts skipped back to the traitorous way dancing with Gabe had made my heart thump and how I had already entertained the idea that if Mr I’m-not-interested-in-no-strings had an open spot in the serious relationship field then I might have been poised to put myself forward, but god help me if I admitted as much to this lot. Had they even just an inkling that it had crossed my mind, then they would have had Gabe and me tethered for life.
‘Are you really planning to stay unattached for ever?’ gasped Molly.
‘Yes,’ I told her lightly, ‘like I said before: fun? Yes. Commitment? No. Laughs? Yes. Love? No. Single? Yes. Attached? No.’
Neither Molly nor Dorothy looked particularly impressed by my reinstated mantra, which was fine by me. That was the line I was outwardly sticking with. It was the one I wanted them to believe I was championing, but it was a shame Gabe was there to hear me trotting it out.
‘But look at me,’ said Anna, reaching for Jamie’s hand.
‘What about you?’
‘Well, not all that long ago I was single, married to my work and carrying around a whole heap of problems, but now, having let love in—’
I had to stop her and her romantic heart right there.
‘But you’re forgetting,’ I said, pushing back my chair and standing up, ‘that whole heap of problems you were carrying around had been inflicted on you by circumstances and other people, whereas my bad memories and dubious reputation are all entirely of my own making.’
My knees felt a little wobbly as I realised the carefree me I was so keen to present to the world had turned all solemn again and I was talking about a whole lot more than Gavin dropping his pants in The Mermaid, even if no one else around the table was aware of it.
‘And your point is?’
‘My point is, the space in my heart that you and Miss Molly over there would like to see filled up with love, unicorns and fluffy kittens is already taken by something I can’t even bring myself to think about right now, and there’ll never be room to squeeze a significant other in next to it.’
‘But you let Gavin in,’ Gabe reminded me.
‘Exactly,’ I said. ‘And look how that turned out.’