January
Handling a quad bike across rain-logged fells was exhausting, but Angela knew she had to keep looking for the two missing ewes. They were with lamb – twins, each of them – so that was a lot of money lost if she couldn’t find them. Jet, the Collie, was balanced on the back of the bike, his body knocking into her now and again. How on earth he managed to keep his grip she’d never know, but having him there was reassuring and a bit of company. He lived in the yard and was not a house dog, or pet, but his loyalty was unlimited.
Angela hadn’t grown up on a farm, but having worked at the local pub for years where the farming lads hung out, she knew what was expected of you if you married into a farming family, particularly sheep farming. No one had ever talked of the loneliness, the isolation or the relentless, physically draining nature of the job. It was a way of life, not a job. You couldn’t leave it at five p.m. and go back to it at nine a.m. the next day. And now she was managing on her own. She just prayed Ed would be back at her side come lambing time, which would be any time from March onwards.
Ed had more or less lived at the hospital and was then a frequent visitor at the nursing home his mother had been transferred to. When he came home, Angela always made sure he had plenty to eat, or at least tried to get him to eat something. He was fading away, she was sure. He felt so much thinner when she hugged him and the bags under his eyes were like rainclouds: heavy, dark, and sad. It seemed to be enough for him to know that she was there, that the farm was safe in her hands, and although he hardly spoke to her because he was clearly so exhausted, she knew that she was doing the right thing. She had offered to go with him on a couple of occasions, but after a brief hesitation, he’d said no it was okay, maybe in a little while. She was helping by supporting him and that meant a lot. Secretly, Angela was relieved and glad he thought she was doing enough.
Thank goodness for mobile phones. Although reception wasn’t brilliant up at the farm, she was able to let Stevie and Holly know any news, tell them she missed them, say she was going crazy without the water, and ask if they had found a man.
To hear that Chris had been roped in made Angela smile. She’d instinctively liked him that day he’d come down to the beach to take their photographs. There was something warm and solid about him, but sad too. She’d noticed the way he’d looked at Stevie – it was how a man looks when he thinks has found the missing piece in his jigsaw. Ed had watched her like that at the beginning.
As she brought the quad bike back down into the farmyard with the two ewes safely penned into the little trailer she’d hooked onto the back, she whistled to the dog that had been running behind and shut him away in his barn. She’d go back out shortly to feed him and his sister, who she had left there on guard. Plenty of opportunists around stealing farm equipment.
In the boot room, she kicked off her foul weather gear, slipped on another pair of boots, and went to the kitchen door. Now there was no one home all day, she’d got into the habit of locking it up if she was out and about. Not that there was anything of any value, but it made her feel more secure if she was coming back into the house on her own. She was almost tempted to keep one of the dogs in the house while Ed was away.
The kitchen door was unlocked. Ed must be back and found the key in the hiding place just to the left of the outside tap. She’d not noticed his Land Rover in the yard though.
Slightly puzzled, she crept up the stairs, praying it was Ed and not a burglar. She heard the shower in the bathroom and laughed. Burglars don’t take showers – just money and jewels.
Back downstairs, she washed her hands and checked to see how much water was in the kettle on the Rayburn. She was flagging and needed a mug of sweet tea. Then she remembered the dogs. Slipping her boots back on, she walked back to the barn, took the two tin bowls from the stone floor, scooped some dried dog food into them, and just for a moment allowed herself to pause in her day.
One day soon, she thought, things could be very different here. She wasn’t willing Ed’s mother to die exactly, but this waiting game could not go on forever. It was draining. The dogs wolfed down their food, then started to wash themselves, nuzzling each other to find any crumbs of food caught up in muzzles or ear fluff. They were happy; content with their simple lives.
Back in the kitchen, Ed was stirring sugar into two mugs of tea. He smiled at her as she walked in, which was a pleasant surprise. She couldn’t remember the last time he’d smiled. He’d also filled up two big bowls of stew and put them on the kitchen table. It was just what she needed: a little bit of someone looking after her. Angela stretched out her tired legs under the table, kicking Ed accidentally. Instead of moving his foot away, he stopped eating and put one hand on her shoulder.
‘Thanks, Ang.’
Just that. But it was enough. Their team was still strong. It had taken a big knock and there were still a few things that Angela wanted to navigate her way through, but she was prepared to wait for the conversation about why she wasn’t able to have children until Ed was in a better place. Her loneliness and physical irritations still preyed on her daily, but the trust her husband had placed in her to run the farm in his absence had helped her fight them off, squash them down, and let her do what she needed to do.
* * *
In a cottage not so far away from the farm, but far enough to be in another world, Stevie was sitting her desk, staring at the duck-egg blue walls. Another Christmas gone, another year beginning, the challenge she had set herself was only a few weeks away – but then what?
She swivelled round in her black chair, leant forwards and lifted the lid of a big pine chest. In it she kept all the photographs of the children when they were little, packets of prints, and about fifteen photo albums holding yet more prints in their plastic sleeves. She’d kept a promise she’d made to herself as they grew older – always print out a selection of photographs for each year rather than leaving them on the computer. It had once been a Christmas tradition in her family to open the lid and immerse themselves in 5x7 glossy memories for a couple of hours.
Divorce hadn’t seen the collection split, but it did bring an edge of poignancy that they all felt but tried to ignore. It hurt to see her husband’s handsome face smiling out at them, but not as much as it hurt to contemplate ripping all those photographs up or slicing him off them. Her daughters talked openly about ‘Dad’ and the four years without him that had passed since the divorce were only a tiny part of their life with him in the family. Adulthood, university, jobs, and partners had drawn the girls to different parts of the country, so these photographs were brought out less and less frequently and with more and more nostalgia rather than emotion. It was rare that the three of them got together in her house in Cumbria. When they did, there never seemed to be time to sit around looking at old photographs. She was sure it was only her who felt nostalgic anyway. The girls had moved on emotionally and geographically, as was normal. She missed them terribly, but treasured the times they visited or she went to see them in their new homes with their new lives.
What Stevie knew she missed most was having someone to share this next part of her life with. She imagined being with someone who would do the things John had never done, but which she saw other couples doing: someone to photobomb her snapshots, suggest an adventure, cook her a meal, ring her up when she least expected, forget to put the top on the toothpaste, tell her the barbeque was hot enough for the food now, kiss the top of her head in passing. The list was endless and all-consuming if she allowed it to be.
In the lake there were no lists, no pressures, no comparisons to her old life, no expectations to have all the answers, no secrets except what lay below you in the depths, no one to tell you they loved you except yourself. Total self-knowledge and self-belief for that brief moment you gave yourself to the water.
But she could not live every waking hour in the lake. Or use it as an escape from real life.
Bang! She dropped the lid down on the pine chest, stood up, and went into the kitchen. Time to shake up the next few months. Get the championships out of the way, get the estate agents round, put her house on the market, move down to Oxford. But was there really anything different down there from up here? She’d always thought there would be, but maybe by staying here in Cumbria and simply throwing the dice now and again, who knew what would come into her life or what opportunities might jump in front of her.
Take the forest swim in Norway. That had been an opportunity she couldn’t have anticipated, or even contemplated before she’d started swimming in cold water every day. What’s more, she hadn’t had to sell her house and move hundreds of miles away to do it.
Come on, woman, stand tall and be proud of everything you’re achieving. Look at the team you have around you: they wouldn’t be out there freezing their bits off if it wasn’t for you and your crazy, wonderful dream. She could understand why Holly was there come rain or shine, but Chris? What was he getting out of this apart from the odd glimpse of side boob or bum cheek if he was lucky?
She thought about the flashes of his flesh she’d seen as he was getting dressed – not that she was looking of course. It made her smile and feel good inside. Was this another one of those opportunities she might grab hold of? She smiled a bit more at the thought of grabbing hold of Chris.
Her mobile was ringing, but it wasn’t on her desk where she normally left it if she was in her office. She cocked her head and listened carefully, surprised that she could hear it. Normally, all she could hear from her office was the rhythmic beat of the grandfather clock on the landing.
It was coming from the kitchen. If she hurried, she might just catch it before the caller gave up. But she was not quite fast enough down the stairs and there was no message, just a missed call. It wasn’t a number she recognised. She tended to ignore these as they were usually a scam of some kind. This time, she took a chance and called the number back. She heard a man’s voice on the other end. He sounded flustered, but pleased she’d called back.
‘Stevie! You don’t know me, but I’m Simon, Holly’s husband.’
‘Simon! Of course, I’ve heard a lot about you. Oh! Is Holly alright? Has something happened?’ Panic washed over her like a cold wave. How did he get her number?
‘Sure, sure, yes, she’s fine. Um, actually, she doesn’t know I’m ringing you. I do apologise, but I took your number from her phone.’ He laughed nervously, which reassured Stevie that all was well. Now she was just curious.
‘Thank goodness! So, are you okay? I mean, can I do anything?’ She realised how daft this sounded as he must be ringing her for a reason, not just a random chat.
He laughed again then explained: ‘Well, you probably know already, but it’s her big birthday coming up soon.’
How could she not know! The number of times Holly had mentioned it, building up the tension for all of them. It was as if no one had ever been fifty before. Stevie realised that was not very kind of her to even think, so she had never voiced it.
‘I’m planning something special, you see. It’s down in London though. At the lido near where I work. I’ll explain in more detail another time, but I just wanted to sound you out on a couple of things if that’s okay?’ He paused briefly, then continued: ‘As I’m sure Holly has told you, we have a dog and holiday cottages, so I know it’s a massive favour, but would you mind looking after him? Hopefully, the cottages won’t be a problem, but I’m not sure yet.’
‘No problem. I’d be delighted to help. I’ve often wondered why Holly never brings him down to the lake, though. Does he bite?’
‘Bite? Nooo. He’s more likely to lick you to death. But I know Holly’s not keen to take him down with her because she’s worried he might run off after something in the woods or a sheep while she’s in the lake. I keep telling her he’d be fine, but, well, you know Holly, a bit of a drama queen! It would be far easier if he could be with you if that’s alright? I know it’s a big ask!’ Simon laughed again and Stevie warmed to him even more. She was intrigued to know what he was planning, but also aware that she needed to be off down to the lake.
She checked the kitchen clock. Just gone two o’clock.
‘Look, Simon, sorry to interrupt, but I need to go out in a minute. Can we talk again? I’m really happy to help out with this, though.’
‘Of course, sorry. Didn’t mean to keep you from things. And, thank you for calling back. I’ll be in touch. Oh, and Stevie, mum’s the word and all that.’
Stevie could imagine he was the sort of person who’d wink and tap on his nose as he said it. ‘Absolutely, Simon. I won’t say a thing. Bye for now.’
She pressed the red symbol to end the call and went back onto the landing where the grandfather clock stood in the corner – silent. It needed winding every nine days, but she usually did it on a Sunday morning so that the weights didn’t go right down to full length at the bottom of the case. It had been her parents’ treasure, something she’d known since childhood, and when her mother had moved into her tiny retirement flat Stevie had taken it on, along with strict instructions about caring for it. In some ways, those instructions had come with a pressure to do things as they always had been done, a pressure that Stevie had strived to live up to when her mother was still alive. Yet another person in her life who’d been controlling. Opening the glass door on the hood, she inserted the key onto the winder and slowly wound that side back up and then repeated it on the other side. Nothing. No emotion.
My God, that was a first, she told herself. Winding this clock up always carried her back into the past, a place she was trying to leave behind so that she could live whatever was her future, but today it just felt like what it was – a clock, not the beating heart of anyone’s home. Maybe next week she’d leave it unwound? The rebellious thought made her smile. She was the hub, the brains, the imagination, the creator, the maker, and the leading actress – not her mother or her ex-husband. Excited now to get ready for her swim, she finished the job, tucked the brass key back on the little shelf, shut the glass door, and without a backwards glance ran down the stairs. Which swimsuit? She felt like looking good.
As she pulled out her swim kit from the swimming cupboard in the utility room, an image of the man who would be at the lake with them that afternoon floated into her head. His smile, his frown, the look of painful surprise that first time he’d walked into the lake with them. She could remember everything about his reactions. Today would only be the second time he’d swum with them as a group. She wondered what he thought of them both and whether the water would feel any different to him this time. The sun was out again, but it wouldn’t make the water any warmer. She allowed herself a moment of butterflies in her stomach again.