Nathan
Four months later
Nathan Warren is a gentle man. He stands on the corner of where Ashdon High Street meets Brook Lane every weekday, not far from the town sign sporting three sheep and an ear of corn. Most days, he has his cone – an orange and white job, on loan from the council after his old one was vandalised. There aren’t many cars that come up and down this road, but the ones that do will receive a helpful nod from Nathan, a point of the hand and a cheery smile. He’ll put the cone down if they ever need to park, but more often than not, they’re just passing through. It is moving towards summer now; there is a new scent in the air, heady and sweet. The flowers in Sorrow’s Meadow will be blooming, he knows, but he still doesn’t walk there anymore. Nobody does.
Most mornings, he sees Jane Goodwin with her two youngest children, one in each hand. On the way in, she doesn’t normally take much notice of Nathan because she’s chatting away to one of the other mums or listening to something one of the kids is saying. They’re taller now, especially the girl. She’s shot right up.
Nathan prefers the way back, when Jane comes past him alone, the children safely at school. She lives alone with them now, after what happened to her husband. But he’s seen a man a few times now, a new man, a bit shorter than Jack was, with sandy blonde hair. He arrives in a sports car, and sometimes Jane comes out to meet him, kisses him on the lips. Nathan doesn’t really like that. He likes it when she is on her own, walking – that’s when she’ll smile at him; their eyes will meet and Nathan will feel it – the hot rush of excitement. It could happen any day now. She could turn to him and speak, they could have a proper conversation, like they did before. He’s wanted that for so long. He has always liked Jane. She is so very, very pretty.
He did tell the police that, but they didn’t seem very interested. All they ever asked was what he wanted with that younger girl, Clare, the one with the blonde hair. It confused him, confused him a lot. He didn’t want anything with Clare – he didn’t even know her. He did see Jane with her though, that night over a year ago in Sorrow’s Meadow. He’d gone up there for a walk, like he does most evenings – there’s not much else to do here. Nathan doesn’t like drinking, so the pub is out, and even though his mother told him Ashdon was a friendly town, Nathan doesn’t see it that way. He can remember the soft feel of his mother’s hand as she died – she’d gripped it tightly, in the house he inherited, and she’d told him to look after the town, to keep himself safe.
‘It’s a lovely place,’ she’d murmured, ‘friendly, Nathan. Make the most of it. You’ll love it here.’
He’d kept to his word, all these years. But the people of Ashdon are busy, they’re not interested in him, and of course that incident at the Valentine’s fair hadn’t been friendly at all. Nathan shudders a little at the involuntary memory. That man shouting at him. Shouting about Clare.
The only person who’s ever been friendly to him is Jane, ever since that night when she told him what to do.
Jane Goodwin is coming back from the school now; her footsteps are pulling closer to where Nathan is standing. She is on her way home, to the big house. The house next door to hers has a For Sale sign now, the colours bright against the hedgerow. It is taking a long time to sell. He smiles at her, a shy, tentative, but friendly smile, and this time, she smiles back, a proper smile. Their eyes meet. He grips the cone awkwardly, a blush starting at his neck. She’s so pretty. He remembers how pretty she looked at the Valentine’s fair, the way she’d smiled at him as he made his way back home, head down. The touch of her hand as she came up behind him, her cheeks slightly flushed. She must have walked fast.
He’d listened as she’d asked him, asked for the second favour.
‘Just a teeny one, Nathan,’ she’d said, standing so close to him that he could smell her perfume, the flowery, clean scent that made him feel all tingly inside. He hadn’t quite understood at first, but once she’d explained it again, he got it. She’d told him how much he’d be helping her out, asked him to repeat it all back to her, everything he needed to do. Nathan didn’t know Ian very well, but he did know Jane. He wanted to help Jane, and he did. She’d tried to do it without implicating anyone, she’d explained to him, she really had tried, but the police wanted a name and he had to be the one to give it to them. It was important. It was his job. But still, he was so relieved when they let Ian go. Turns out he hadn’t been the one after all. And now Nathan doesn’t need to feel so guilty. He is free.
‘Thank you, Nathan,’ Jane says now, nodding at the cone, and he stops still, delight rippling through him like the warm chocolate that his mother used to make.
‘You’re welcome,’ he mutters, and she gives a little nod, a quick, brisk nod that could mean anything, but which Nathan takes to mean thank you, once again. It is their secret, then. She has acknowledged it, and he will never, never tell. Nathan watches as she walks towards the house, and as he stares, the large, heavy door opens to reveal the sandy-haired man, smiling, his arms open. Jane walks into his embrace, and the door closes behind them. A fresh start, Nathan thinks, and Jane deserves it. She is so pretty, after all. He is glad she got to keep the house. This way, they can share their secret for ever.