Ben saw the guard raise his whistle as he raced onto the platform. He doubled his speed, leaping in through the open doors only seconds before they slid shut behind him, and collapsed onto the nearest vacant seat. The whistle blew with one long, shrill blast, the train shuddered beneath him and he half rose, questioning his decision. Should he have stayed to finally meet the Browns? No. He sank down again, closing his eyes. It wasn’t the right time. An image of Lucy’s face flashed into his mind, bringing with it a heavy ache. But when would it be the right time?
Suddenly he felt more alone than he had in his entire life—and he was well used to loneliness. He had faced it through his teenage years, when ill health had held him back from doing the things the other boys did, and then later, when his father died. He had never known his mother, so his father’s loss had left him totally alone, but with it had also come a sense of relief that the suffering was at last over. No one should have to go through what his father had.
Ben had learned to be independent after that, keeping to himself in his own fight back to fitness, and then there was no time to be lonely, for he had found a whole new fulfillment in a job he could finally do.
He tried to concentrate on the challenge ahead of him. The northern ridge, a huge mass of woodland that stretched way up the mountainside above Dumfries. Working up there with burly Jed Mallock would keep him well occupied this winter. Yet somehow the task had lost its attraction.
Perhaps he should have told Lucy the things he had been holding back for so long. When he had eventually plucked up the courage to write to Edna Brown, she had been so grateful, and then later, when they had talked on the phone, he’d realized just how much his revelation had helped her, and he, too, had found a sense of peace. She’d told him all about Lucy, but she wouldn’t give him her surname or address, urging him to wait a while. He had desperately wanted to talk to her, or at least to write, but Edna had been adamant. Lucy is lost, she’d told him. He would never forget those words. She has to find herself again before you can help her. But what if she never found herself?
When he had all of a sudden realized, on the way back from Fletcher Park with dear, indomitable Aunt V, that the girl he’d saved was the same Lucy he had been waiting all this time to meet, he had been filled with a hollow emptiness, an emptiness that swelled and swelled into this awesome sense of loss that dragged him down.
She was the first woman to touch his heart in a lifetime, and he knew that she could never be his, for Lucy McTavish’s heart was already taken by the love of her life—Daniel Brown.
The train clattered on toward the north, through woods and farmland, past towns and villages, but Ben stared out the window, seeing nothing, for the loneliness was tearing at his soul.
Dr. Abraham’s teeth flashed white against his gleaming skin and I watched his long thin fingers with a kind of fascination as they flicked over the page on the clipboard he was studying. In one more moment I would know when I could go home.
“Well,” he announced, looking up at me with a smile. “I think that everything is healing well. You will have to come back to see Mr. Louis about your leg, of course, and we’ll make you an appointment for that before you leave, but your head wound is fine and the district nurse will call on you at home to change the dressing.”
“So…” My heart began to race erratically. “So are you saying that I can go home?”
He grinned, savoring the moment. “Just as soon as you like,” he told me. “But take things very quietly. And I’ll expect you back for a checkup in two weeks.”
“So that’s it? That really is it?”
It all happened so quickly in the end. One minute I still felt like an invalid in an antiseptic environment, and the next Aunt V was waiting impatiently while I struggled into the jeans and sweater she had brought me.
When we walked out of the front doors of the hospital, the crisp fresh air hit me, filling my lungs with its intoxicating sharpness. I felt a moment’s dizziness, and sensing my hesitation, Aunt V took hold of my arm.
“Okay?”
There was such concern in her voice that I had to smile.
“Of course. Just a bit…”
“Woozy?” she suggested.
“Woozy,” I agreed.
She had parked her small car near the entrance, and I clambered in and sat with relief as she flung my case into the back seat and started the engine. I was going home—I really was going home.
On our way through the city we passed the end of Fletcher Park Lane. I felt my eyes being drawn toward its rows of perfect houses. Was it really me who had lived there with Alex Lyall? Or had it been someone else, someone who had taken over my body for a while? Was I mad?
Aunt V noticed my reaction.
“That part of your life is over now, Lucy,” she stated in what I always thought of as her authoritative army voice. “Look ahead and move on.”
Look ahead and move on.
Sound advice, I decided, pulling in a deep breath. I was back on track and nothing was going to sway me from it again.
Not until we were leaving the city behind did I think about Ben and his strange behavior. He wouldn’t know yet that I had left the hospital. Would I ever see him again? I wondered. Would I ever find out what had been bothering him? An image of his face slipped into my mind, warm and charismatic. I would miss him, I realized. But he belonged here in the city. He had no part in the life I was going back to. That life belonged to Daniel.
“Will you see Ben again?” asked Aunt V, echoing my thoughts.
“Probably not,” I told her. “Not unless I return to the city.”
“Perhaps you could write to him,” she suggested.
“Perhaps,” I said. “If I knew his address.”
“I could get it from Beryl Minton,” she offered.
I looked at her vaguely.
“The old lady who owns the hotel where I stayed,” she went on. “She’s a very good friend of his.”
“We’ll see,” I told her.
All thoughts of Ben went right out of my mind as we drew up outside the place where I had spent so much of my life. Box Tree Cottage. It had always seemed to have a face to me, just as Homewood did. Now I gazed into the evenly spaced windows of its eyes, expecting their expression to have changed. But they looked just the same. Despite everything, they looked just the same. Did life always go on like this? I wondered. In spite of all the trauma and tragedy, underneath everything stayed exactly the same? Yes, I realized, it did. Life just went on and on and on, through time immemorial. Around and around again.
It wasn’t easy, being home. Everything was the same but different. My mom’s chair still stood beside the fireplace, the sight of it made my heart hurt. If only I had been able to help her more. I even found myself thinking about my handsome, charming, selfish father. Where was he? I wanted to know. What was he doing? Was he even still alive? Would I ever find out? For that matter, I thought not.
On Saturday morning Aunt V announced that she would have to go to Homewood to see how the tearoom was getting on without her.
“I’ve been shirking my duties for long enough,” she declared. “Do you feel up to driving there with me?”
No one had mentioned me going to Homewood yet. Perhaps they were afraid of scaring me away again. I was mobile enough to travel, despite the plaster cast on my leg, and although my ribs were still sore and my head often ached, there was really no reason I should have to stay in the house all the time, as long as I took things slowly.
Homewood—a place of happiness gone, a place to face my memories. Did I want to go there? Was I ready yet? Perhaps I would never be ready
“Well, what do you think?” said Aunt V. “Fancy a ride out?”
I felt a flutter of panic. “Just another day or two,” I told her. “After the weekend…I promise.”
Her eyes clouded over with disappointment, then she smiled. “I’ll hold you to that,” she said.
When she had gone, I sat in my mother’s chair and tried to sort out my head. I wanted to go to Homewood so much. I wanted to remember Daniel so much. So why hadn’t I gone? And then I knew. With a wave of shame I knew; I was just as cowardly now as I had been after Daniel’s death. Run Away And Hide should be my motto.
“Oh, Mom,” I whispered, remembering her poor sad face. “How dared I ever judge you?”
Almost another week passed before I finally plucked up the courage to go and face my memories. I had read and reread Edna’s letters again and again, and the more I realized just how much they had all missed me, the guiltier I felt for running away.
Her last letter still puzzled me. What was it she had intended to tell me that might help? I wondered. I would ask her again, I decided, when the time was right.
It suddenly occurred to me that that was what Ben had said. “When the time is right,” he had told me when I’d asked if he would keep in touch.
But when do you know if the time is right for anything? Was today the right time for me to go back to Homewood? Oh, I hoped so.
Aunt V was neatly dressed as usual in tweed, with a toning, heather-colored top and sensible brown shoes. My eyes were pulled to the delicate shade of her fine wool sweater and I noticed how much softer she appeared of late. When she had first come into our lives, her clothes had been so severe that she could have been in the army still. I said as much to her and she smiled gently at me.
“Before I returned to you and your mother, I didn’t have anyone in my life to love. The army was my life then. But now I have you and the Browns and a whole new life to look forward to.”
A lump settled in my throat. Would I ever be able to say that I had a life to look forward to again? I wondered. For it seemed to me nowadays that I spent my life looking back.
She reached across and squeezed my hand. “Don’t worry, Lucy. You have to go back to move on, you know.”
But did I really want to move on? Did I want to leave Daniel behind?
“Come on, then,” she insisted, handing me my jacket from the peg beside the door. I took a deep breath, fumbling for the sleeves.
“Coming…ready or not,” I declared with a forced smile.
It looked just the same, the lane down toward the farm. The hedges on either side sparkled with a light frost, and a vivid picture of Daniel popped into my mind. Daniel laughing out loud as he shook the whole hedgerow to make the ice droplets tinkle. His voice, full of delight, echoed in my ears: Listen to the hedgerow sing, Luce. It’s magic.
A lot of things had seemed magical then, I remembered, when I viewed them through Daniel’s eyes.
When we passed the place where dear old Fudge lay down in the road that day to die, I felt as though my heart was about to burst. I forced myself to glance away, and the sight of the fells, looming magnificently against the clear winter sky, made it quickly start to beat faster and faster again, until my whole being became one with its crazy thudding. I fought to breathe slowly, fighting off the panic attack. I had to do this. I wanted to do this.
There were the horses in the long meadow beside the lane, gray and bay, grazing together, at peace with their lives. How long was it since Daniel and I had raced them across the fell? It felt like a lifetime ago. Something twisted inside me, like a knife in my guts. It was a lifetime ago, Daniel’s lifetime.
Seeing me struggle with my emotions, Aunt V reached over and patted my hand. It helped so much, having her there. Perhaps if she had been with me the last time I’d come to confront my memories, I wouldn’t have run away as I did.
I could see the roofs of Homewood now, comfortingly familiar in some ways, yet unfamiliar, too. The verges and gardens looked neater somehow, more…tended, and above the entrance gate was an impressive new sign in shades of blue: Homewood Farm Shop and Tearoom.
Aunt V stopped the car for a moment and gripped my arm. “Oh, Lucy,” she cried. “I am so happy with my life, especially now that you are here. And you will be happy again one day, you’ll see. When you find something—or someone—to make your life worthwhile once more.”
“There will never be anyone else now,” I told her firmly, meaning it.
For a moment her face fell. “But what about Ben?” she asked.
I shrugged. “What about Ben? He’s a friend—that’s all.”
“A friend who saved your life,” she reminded me.
“He’s only a friend because he saved my life,” I said. “And don’t get me wrong, Ben is a fantastic guy, but that is all he’ll ever be, so don’t you go getting your hopes up.”
Without saying another word on the subject, she pushed her foot down on the accelerator, and the car moved forward again, its tires crunching on the expanse of new gravel.
“Well?” she exclaimed. “What do you think?”
What had once been a paddock beside the house was now a car park, and beyond it, in the garden where Daniel and I had spent so many happy hours, was a play area, with wooden climbing frames and swings and picnic tables.
“Have they taken our tree house down?” I asked urgently. Somehow it mattered very much to me that the remnant of our childhood still remained.
Aunt V smiled. “Edna wouldn’t let anyone touch it,” she told me. “They had to fence it off so that no visiting children could try to climb up and break their necks in the process, but it’s still there, just as it used to be. I even think that Harry might have done some work on it.”
I clambered awkwardly out of the car and stood for a moment, lost in memory. “Can I be alone?” I whispered. “Just for a little while.”
She nodded understandingly. “I’ll be in the tearoom if you need me. And mind your leg.”
In the tearoom—how strange that sounded. I picked up my crutches and began to make my way toward the alien familiarity of the garden.
The rambling bushes had been replaced by neat shrubs and well-tended flower beds, naked now but sure to blossom in the spring. I found myself shrinking from what had become such a public place, until suddenly I saw it—through a little wicket gate with the word Private painted on the front. A tiny piece of what was left. I closed the gate behind me and entered another world, a world from the past. Our world.
In the farthest corner was a clump of the wild untended bushes where we used to play, and there was the tree, with our wooden house perched among its branches. I could see where Mr. Brown had repaired it with bright new wood, and as if in a trance, I walked slowly toward it and began to try to climb the narrow ladder, dragging my plaster cast behind me, so desperate was I to look inside our secret place once again.
Mr. Brown may have mended the outside, but it was obvious that no one had been inside. The cushions we had sneaked from the house still lay on the floor, black now with mildew and rotting at the edges, and Daniel’s box of colored pencils sat on the ledge where we used to store our most precious belongings. How many times had we sat here and whispered our deepest secrets to each other, sharing our dreams? But Daniel’s dreams had never happened, had they? Grief welled inside me in an uncontrollable wave of emotion.
“Oh, Daniel,” I murmured. “Where are you? What about your promise?”
I don’t know how long I sat in the tiny space of the tree house. No one came looking for me—or maybe they all knew where I was. I didn’t notice the cold or the ache in my leg, because all the memories took me where they would…and because Daniel was there, just as he had promised.
I felt his presence as soon as I picked up the box of colored pencils. It was all around me, bringing waves of warmth and comfort, and as his love seeped into my soul, at last I felt a kind of peace…the beginnings of acceptance.
It was Mr. Brown who eventually arrived to fetch me. I saw him through the tiny window, walking toward the tree, his strides long and unhurried, his red hair shining in the pale afternoon sun.
“Come on, Lucy,” he yelled from the ground below me. “I don’t know how you managed to get up there in the first place, but it’s time to get down. It’s going to freeze again tonight, you realize.”
I pulled my jacket tightly around me, suddenly noticing the bitter cold. “I think you’ll have to help me,” I yelled back as my senses returned. My whole leg ached with a fiery pain, and that hammer was thumping inside my head.
To my relief, his smiling face unexpectedly appeared in the small entrance. “Let’s go, then,” he said. “I don’t think I can get any farther in than this.”
Bit by bit, he helped me down the rickety ladder, and when we finally reached the ground, he took hold of my shoulders and turned me toward him, gazing into my face. “Are you all right?” he asked gently.
I nodded with tears behind my eyes, knowing that he understood. “As right as I can be.”
“None of us will ever really be right again, lass,” he sighed. “All we can do is to get on with our lives, and who knows what’s around the corner?”
I echoed his words. “Who knows?” I agreed with a prickle of excitement. Somehow Daniel would keep his promise; I was sure of it. I just didn’t yet know how.
Everything at Homewood itself was both different and the same. The main part of the rambling old house was just as it had been, but down one side of it, a large sitting room had been knocked into some outbuildings to create the tearoom. Edna and Aunt V glowed with pride when they showed me around their project, and I could see very well how they had coped with tragedy—they had found somewhere new to channel their energies. Perhaps that was what I should do, too.
The whole place was warm and bright, and I breathed in greedily as the aroma of homemade cakes and ground coffee filled my nostrils. Edna’s mouthwatering creations lined the shelves in the small shop, along with arts and crafts created by local people, books about the surrounding areas and novelty gifts to tempt the tourists.
The decor was all soft creams and warm browns. Old wooden beams lined the ceiling, and neat, checked brown-and-cream tablecloths covered all the tables. I thought it looked perfect, and both my aunt and Edna purred with pleasure when I told them so.
“Keeps them busy,” grumbled Mr. Brown. “Too busy. No one remembers to cook for me anymore.”
But I could see the twinkle in his eye as he regarded his wife.
“Anyway,” he announced, pulling out a chair at a small round table near the window, “that doesn’t really matter, as I can always come in here to eat.” He motioned me toward the chair. “Lucy McTavish, would you care to join me for a free tea?”
“I’d love to,” I told him, sitting.
“Waitress!” he called loudly, lifting his hand and precariously waving one finger in Edna’s direction. “Some service if you please.”
Just across from us sat a smartly dressed elderly couple. They glanced uneasily at us, frowning with disapproval at Mr. Brown’s highhanded manner. I felt a giggle gurgle up my throat.
“Pot of tea for two and a couple of your best scones with jam and cream,” he called again across the room in his best “posh voice.” “Oh, and hop to it, eh, my dear? We haven’t got all day.”
Edna walked toward us with her head held high. There were two bright spots of color on her cheeks, and she glared at her husband as she jotted his order down on her notepad. But as she turned away, I saw her smile, and a warm glow flooded me. The warmth and happiness were still here at Homewood, despite everything.