Driving back to the Bothy, Max cursed himself, life and the universe.
Why the hell did Laurel have to turn up now? At this moment, in this place?
He hadn’t seen his sister-in-law for over a year; the last time was at his financial adviser’s in London relating to the trust. That must be why she was here: some urgent query about that donation that she had to deal with personally.
But what timing. It could not possibly have been worse: at Christmas, when he was dressed in this garb and clearly having spent the night with Krys.
Laurel’s face … Shock and horror didn’t come into it. She was … disgusted.
He’d left Krys so abruptly. What must she be thinking of him and of Laurel?
He was dreading what Laurel would have to say to him. The Bothy came into view and she was outside, arms folded, staring at the fells. It wasn’t a good sign and Max was filled with dread but tried to put himself in her shoes: she’d travelled all this way from London to find him having slept with a strange woman. It was hardly the reception she could have been expecting.
Jake started barking from inside the Bothy.
‘Laurel?’
‘Your dog’s been going mad. He was making a dreadful racket when I called earlier.’
‘He needs to be let out,’ Max muttered.
‘I should imagine he does if you’ve been out all night.’
Jake dashed out of the door, jumping up on Max briefly.
‘Sorry, buddy. I’m late …’
Laurel stood by, a wire-taut figure with a pursed mouth.
Jake shot off to do his business behind the woodshed.
‘Come inside,’ Max said to Laurel, dreading what she had in store for him. Once inside, he kissed her on the cheek but she made no attempt to return his gesture of affection.
‘It’s a shame I wasn’t at home but you might have given me some warning. It was a bit of a shock to find you at the manor.’
‘I worked that one out.’
‘I didn’t mean it in that way. I could have arranged to be at home this morning so you weren’t running around Thorndale trying to track me down.’
‘It wasn’t hard. This post mistress woman knew where you were; so does half of Thorndale, I expect.’
Max was stung into a sharper answer than was wise. ‘Probably the whole of Thorndale, actually. Krys and I left the ball together.’
Laurel flinched. ‘I can see I’ve touched a raw nerve.’
‘Not at all,’ he lied. ‘You took me by surprise, that’s all. Is everything OK? What was so important that you hared up here instead of picking up the phone?’
‘You never answer it. You said you don’t have a signal most of the time and you don’t have your own wi-fi so I can never be sure you’ll pick up an email.’
‘You could have written,’ he said, clutching at straws.
‘Written? Don’t be ridiculous, Max. It’s not the Dark Ages and I can’t help it if you choose to live like a hermit in a hovel. Or did do. Clearly, things have changed lately.’
Max restrained himself, aware that anything he said would only inflame the situation further. ‘So, what are you doing here?’ he asked as calmly as he could. ‘Are Rob and the children OK?’ he said, suddenly fearful for his nephews and brother-in-law.
‘They’re fine. They’re in London embroiled in the whole festive merry-go-round, but this isn’t about them. It’s about you. What possessed you to go to a ball? With that woman – Krys?’ Her voice wavered. ‘You swore to me, Max. You said you’d never look at another woman. Never smile again. You two – you’re together, aren’t you?’
Before he could even answer, she pushed on, her voice rising with stress by the moment. ‘How did you get enmeshed in all of this – this?’ She flung her arm out. ‘How can you have forgotten Erin? You said yourself it was your fault that she died.’
Max reeled. He’d heard the accusation many times; taken it without flinching, but this time the blow landed hard and shook him. ‘I haven’t forgotten Erin. How could I?’
‘That’s not how it seems.’
‘I’ll never forget her. You can’t possibly really believe that I would. But I can’t hide away forever. I can’t punish myself the rest of my life. It’s killing me.’
‘I thought – I thought of all people, you really meant it when you said you’d never forgive yourself. I thought you wanted to hide away. You said it would be your lasting tribute to Erin.’ Laurel’s voice cracked. ‘It’s only been three years. Three.’
‘Three years of hell,’ Max snapped.
Laurel clasped her hands together. Max could see she was on the edge of breaking down. She was a boiling cauldron of emotions. ‘I thought – that was what you wanted. To live in hell. You said it after she died!’
‘At the start, but I can’t do it any longer. Even if I wanted to, there are people who need me.’ Max was thinking of the MRT and of the Outdoor Centre.
‘You mean you need them?’
‘Well, yes. I do. I thought I didn’t, but I do.’
‘Or one person in particular?’ she said tightly. ‘A woman you’ve known five minutes? In such a short time to forget Erin and move on to this stranger? Oh, Max, what would Erin think?’
There. He’d been waiting for that particular blow. His chest tightened with anger and guilt. ‘I don’t know. I’ll never know. I’ll regret arranging that trip for the rest of my life, and the loss of Erin and what it’s done to you. I don’t think I can keep on punishing myself. I’ve lost Erin, that’s punishment enough.’
Silence. Laurel had tears in her eyes. Max felt awful that he’d even put his case instead of meekly accepting Laurel’s accusations. He also feared that any response would never placate her in this mood
Laurel lifted her chin. ‘I suppose it’s down to your conscience, then.’
‘My conscience?’ Max echoed then bit back his reply. Laurel was still grieving and he should try to understand that. He had tried, for so very long, but he was running out of empathy and that hurt even more. Was he a bad person?
‘But why did you come?’
‘To see you. There’s an issue to be resolved with Erin’s trust fund and I could have written or called but I thought you might appreciate a visit in person, especially today. I thought today would be tough on you and you might be feeling it.’
‘Today?’
‘Yes.’
Light dawned, and it was the harsh cold light of a searchlight flicked on in the darkness. Max flinched, blinking in the realisation.
‘Oh God.’
‘You’d forgotten, hadn’t you?’ Laurel spoke so quietly, he could barely hear. Her eyes were liquid.
‘No.’
‘Don’t lie to me, Max. It doesn’t suit you.’
He hung his head. Of course he’d forgotten. He’d been so busy, helping at the Outdoor Centre, on the rescue and then taking Krys to the ball … and tumbling out of her bed this morning … so distracted by the moment that he had forgotten Erin’s funeral had been held three years ago that day.
None of these excuses would diminish the hurt and accusation in Laurel’s eyes. She was still grieving deeply for her sister and still blaming him.
‘I had forgotten, yes.’
And he had begun to forgive himself. To tell himself he deserved a second chance at life. His sister-in-law had made him feel like he didn’t.
‘I – I can’t deal with this now and I can see you’re in no fit state. I’m staying at the pub in Thorndale. The Cock, it’s called. I’ll go back there – I’ve brought the paperwork I need you to sign. If you can spare the time, come and see me at the pub. Room four.’