In order to avoid the weekend crowds, we set off early Monday evening. Our plan was that Hope would sleep in the back of Daniel’s car, but after an hour or so of fretful dozing she was well and truly fed up with the car seat.
‘She’s never been this long in a car before.’ Daniel grimaced as he turned up the drum and bass playlist.
‘Has she ever been further than Ferrington before?’ I asked, swivelling round to waggle her stuffed giraffe in time to the music.
Daniel gripped the steering wheel harder.
‘Please tell me you’ve taken her somewhere other than muddy fields and a bonkers village.’
‘She’s not even one yet!’
I waited, slightly aghast. I thought my parents were bad, but at least they took me to the beach every now and then. We even went to a castle once.
‘She’s been to the supermarket.’
‘Wow, a real adventure.’
‘And the hospital.’
‘Another lovely memory to treasure, I’m sure.’
‘To visit her mum.’
‘Oh.’ I turned back around, dropping Giraffe into the pile of road-trip necessities filling up the footwell. Oh.
A revamped 1970s floor-filler reverberated through the car as the glow of the sunset bathed everything with nature’s own disco lights. I found a teething ring in my bag, which Hope chewed down on eagerly. The bittersweet memory of Charlie filled the space between us.
‘Sorry. I know you’ve had other priorities than family fun days out in the past few months.’
Daniel sighed. ‘No. You’re right. It’s not fair on Hope to have a dad who’s too busy to do anything beyond getting her through each day. It’s hardly what her mum would have wanted. I need to sort something so she can be properly looked after in the week, and then I’m free to give her my full attention at the weekends.’
‘Either that or you give up your job and work with me and Becky, at hours to suit you.’
Daniel grinned. ‘I don’t think I’m quite cut out to be a lifestyle guru.’
‘You can change beds and set tables. Plus, I’ve got so many plans for the garden that’ll be a full-time job in itself.’
‘I’m going to be cleaner and caretaker, then?’
I shrugged. ‘There’s accounting and admin, too, if you really can’t live without spreadsheets. But I bet Hope would love to help her daddy bring the farm back to life.’
‘If only it were that simple, I’d resign tomorrow. As idyllic as it sounds, the farm’s not going to pay my bills or provide for Hope’s future.’
‘Your outgoings are practically nothing. Your biggest expenditure is a Friday night pizza. Let’s see how this weekend goes, see what my parents have to say, and when we get back we can look at the numbers.’
‘Maybe.’
‘There’s no maybe about how you and Hope will suffer if you don’t start taking more days off.’
‘Okay, well, your lecture has been sufficiently boring to send her back to sleep, so can we change the subject now?’
We did. We changed the subject more times than I can remember – meandering through childhood memories, dream destinations and whether halloumi is really all it’s cracked up to be or simply cheese that squeaks.
As the shadows crept across the dashboard, Daniel’s playlist softened into easy-listening classics and Hope snoozed gently behind us, I wondered if I’d ever spoken at such length and in such depth to anyone before. Charlie had spent a lot of time with me, but so often I had deferred to her opinions and ideas – not because she chose to dominate, but because I chose to tag along in her shadow. Becky was starting to get to know me, and we had chatted about everything from the evolution of feminism to what on earth Alice was still doing with Jase – which, to some extent, I supposed were the same topic.
But with Daniel, it was different. A whole new level of getting to know someone, and letting them know me.
Except not all of me, of course.
Every time I talked about places I’d been or people I’d hung out with, my role at the newspaper, let alone how I’d ended up there, I had to censor my stories. Who was I kidding? I had to outright lie.
It was well after ten when I directed Daniel down the gravelly lane that led to the Tufted Duck. The only lights were the lamps bobbing on the boats in the marina to one side of us, and the cosy glow from the lanterns my parents had strung up along the porch up ahead.
We swerved around the side of the house to the staff car park at the rear. I gently scooped a rosy-cheeked, sleep-addled Hope out of the car while Daniel grabbed what bags he could manage.
‘Are you sure they’re expecting us?’ Daniel whispered as I led him through the garden that was advertised as ‘a stone’s throw from the lake’, which might be true if an Olympic athlete was the one launching the stone. ‘It looks deserted.’
I smiled. ‘It’s nearly 10.30. The Tufted Duck clientele will all be safely tucked up in bed by now. This isn’t the kind of establishment to encourage late-night carousing.’
At that moment, the kitchen door flew open and we were confronted with the silhouette of an elderly woman wearing a flannel nightgown and a head-scarf, brandishing an umbrella that looked to be nearly as long as she was tall.
‘Who goes there?’ she warbled, pointing the umbrella at us through the dark. ‘Stop or I’ll shoot!’
‘It’s fine!’ I called, hastily passing Hope to Daniel before hurrying over, taking the end of the makeshift weapon and attempting to point it somewhere other than my face. ‘It’s me, Eleanor.’
‘A likely story!’ she growled, managing to jerk the umbrella away and make a thrusting jab at my stomach. Thankfully, her strength was about as effectual as her speed, and I had plenty of time to side-step the attack and move close enough into the kitchen light for her to see my face.
‘Look, Grandma, it’s me.’ I placed one hand on her shoulder and smiled.
Squinting up at me, she took a moment to decide whether to believe her own eyes before grudgingly lowering the umbrella. ‘You’re late. Wendy and Colin are in bed.’
‘Not any more, we aren’t!’ My mother stepped out from the doorway, cinching the cord of her quilted dressing gown tighter.
‘What on earth is all this ruckus?’ Dad asked, his bushy eyebrows bristling. ‘This is a reputable establishment!’
‘This woman stole my umbrella!’ Grandma said, her face shining with glee as she pointed both index fingers at me.
‘Hi, Mum. Dad.’ I leaned past Grandma and gave them a wave. After a brief flash of surprise, they nodded in return, which was about as warm a welcome as a non-residential guest of the Tufted Duck would get. The older they grew, the more similar my parents looked. With only an inch between them in height, by day they lived in a uniform of plaid shirts and jeans so old they were fashionable again, and by night it was furry pyjamas and brown dressing gowns. Now both approaching seventy, their matching salt and pepper hair was kept short. Hands worn rough from all that cleaning, faces permanently tanned from all the gardening. Laughter lines were scarce, but years of worry were etched in permanent wrinkles. Solid, practical, predictable. Right then, it was precisely what I needed.
‘Well, what are you doing turning up here at this time and scaring your grandmother and most of the guests half to death?’ Mum retorted, ushering Grandma back inside.
‘I did tell you in my message that we’d be arriving after ten,’ I said, following them in.
‘We?’ Dad asked, eyebrows beetling in consternation as he waited for Daniel to pass him before closing the door.
‘Yes!’ I blew out a sigh of exasperation. ‘I left two messages on the answerphone. Didn’t you get them?’
Mum and Dad exchanged blank glances before turning to look at Grandma. ‘Have you been pressing buttons on the phone again, Mother?’ Mum asked, sternly.
‘Well, how else am I supposed to listen to the messages?’ she replied, shaking her head in bemusement. ‘I’ve been answering that phone since before you were born. I think I know how it works.’
‘So you didn’t know I was coming?’ I asked. ‘This is ridiculous. I’ve called several times and emailed over the past few weeks. What if there’d been an emergency?’
‘Well, has there been?’ Dad asked, glancing around as if it might have snuck into his kitchen.
‘No.’ Sort of. But that was back in January and I knew better than to try to drag you into that sorry mess.
‘What’s the problem, then?’
I didn’t add what I really wanted to say: What if I wanted to just talk to my parents? Tell you how I was? Ask for advice or even find out how you were doing?
‘I hope there is no problem,’ I replied. ‘Because we’ve driven all the way from Nottinghamshire and were expecting a comfortable bed followed by an infamous Tufted Duck breakfast.’
‘Do you have a confirmation number or booking reference?’ Mum asked, her eyes darting.
‘Clearly not! I didn’t think I needed an eight-digit number to visit my family home!’ I couldn’t bear to look at Daniel, the man who had welcomed a strange, bedraggled woman into his farm and given her a room and a hot meal. Plus a whole new life.
‘Well, this is most inconvenient! We don’t do walk-ins at this time of night. And besides, it’s the Weighbridge Walkers’ annual Windermere Walking Week.’
‘Mum, I am not a walk-in! I’m at the very least a customer whose booking you misplaced, and hopefully even more significantly than that I’m your daughter!’
‘Well, this man isn’t a relative.’ She looked at Daniel and then jumped her eyes back to me. ‘Is he? Are they?’ she added, jerking her chin towards Hope.
‘This is Daniel, Charlie’s brother, and Hope, his daughter. And they’d like a room and a cot, please.’
‘Well, I simply don’t know…’ The dressing gown got another tug. Dad said nothing, deciding instead to take Grandma back to bed.
‘They can have the Mallard room,’ Grandma called over her shoulder, in a flash of lucidity that put my suspicions about her previous nonsense in a whole new light. ‘That walker cancelled at the last minute, remember, after tripping over their walking stick.’
I breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Well, that’s fine then, isn’t it? If we can grab a hot drink then I’ll get the room sorted.’
‘Fine,’ Mum frowned. ‘As long as you’re happy to share a double. I didn’t want to presume.’
I felt a wave of embarrassment, quickly followed by an even warmer wave of something else at the thought of Daniel and I spending the night curled up in bed together.
‘No! We won’t be sharing a room.’ I turned to Daniel and pulled my most apologetic face. He raised his eyebrows, the smile dancing at the corners of his mouth shooting my temperature even higher. ‘Daniel is my landlord. I work for him, helping with childcare and housekeeping.’ Keep reminding yourself of that, Eleanor.
‘It’s fine, Eleanor. We’ve become very open-minded in recent years in order to maintain our customer base. We don’t ask those types of questions any more.’
‘I should hope not! However, it won’t be an issue because, as I’ve just said, we need separate rooms.’
‘But we’ve only got one room!’
‘Well, I presume you’ve not rented out my old top bunk to a Weighbridge Walker. I know they love it here, but even our regulars have to draw the line at Grandma’s snoring.’
Mum looked shifty again. ‘I haven’t rented out your old bed, no.’
‘Well, that’s fine then, isn’t it?’
‘But we did move it into the Osprey room to create a second family suite. Your Grandma has a plain single now.’
‘Okay. Fine.’ It was, it was totally fine that I’d come home for the first time in nearly a year and there was no room at the inn. ‘I’ll grab a blanket and find myself a sofa.’
She folded her arms. ‘You can’t do that! It’s against Tufted Duck policy. All guests must vacate the communal rooms by 11 p.m. No sleeping outside of assigned bedrooms.’
‘I’m not a guest!’
She shook her head, jaw set. ‘No sleeping outside of assigned rooms. Not even for family. Not even for Charlie’s family.’ Her voice cracked, and she sniffed sharply.
I closed my eyes, tried not to picture me and Daniel sharing a bed, counted to about two and then opened them again. ‘Okay. I’ll ensure I remain within the policy. Please go back to bed, Mum, we’ll sort something out.’
She harrumphed and left us to it.
‘I’d be happy to sleep—’ Daniel started.
‘Don’t!’ I held up one hand in protest. ‘Please, don’t let’s talk about it until we’ve had a drink and something warm and fattening to eat first.’
Two mugs of hot chocolate and reheated slices of blackberry and apple pie later, we went upstairs to find that my parents had made up the Mallard bed and assembled a travel cot that took up most of the floor space.
‘I’m so sorry about this,’ I said, resisting the urge to bury my face in a frilly cushion. ‘My parents live in their own world and sometimes I forget how bizarre it is compared to the rest of us.’
‘How do they stay in business if they never answer the phone?’ Daniel checked Hope’s nappy and then tucked her gently under the pink blankets, where she let out a big sigh and scrunched up into a sleepy ball.
‘Most of the guests rebook in person before they leave.’
He nodded to where a copy of the hotel policy had been propped up against one of the pillows. Underlined in red ink were choice sentences detailing no sleeping outside of a designated bedroom. No remaining overnight in any of the communal areas. No persons to occupy cars overnight. No sleeping or loitering in the grounds beyond 11 p.m.
‘Looks as though you’re sleeping in here tonight.’
I rolled my eyes. ‘I can sleep on a sofa and then sneak back in here before they wake up. What’s the worst that can happen if I breach the policy?’
Daniel smiled. ‘You tell me.’ He paused before adding, ‘I did think you were here to ask your parents a favour, though, get some inside info on running a successful getaway venue.’
I thought about that, in between feeling embarrassed and awkward all over again.
‘I don’t mind if you stay.’ He smiled again. ‘It’s a bit weird but I think we’re good enough friends now to handle it.’
‘Are you sure?’ I was not at all sure that I could handle sleeping in the same bed as Daniel Perry. What if I rolled over in my sleep and wrapped my arm around his chest or something? What if Grandma’s snoring was hereditary, and I snorted and snuffled all night?
‘What would Charlie say?’
‘She’d think it utterly ridiculous that we were even debating the issue.’
‘I’ll let you have first dibs in the bathroom.’
Daniel was the first to crack. I couldn’t blame him. That had probably been the longest I’d ever stayed in one position without so much as twitching.
‘Okay, so I’ve been thinking.’
I know. I could hear your brain whirring.
‘We could both keep lying here pretending not to be wide awake, or we could give up and do something less stressful instead. That way, one of us might actually end up getting some sleep tonight.’
Daniel’s voice was soft and deep in the darkness. Twisting my head slightly, I could just about make out the outline of his face, looking up at the ceiling. My heart thumped faster beneath the bra, T-shirt and jumper I’d worn, in a vain hope that increasing the layers between us would somehow lessen the impact of being in such close proximity.
He turned to look at me, expression swathed in shadow, and every inch of my flesh broke out in goosebumps.
I couldn’t breathe.
‘Or you keep pretending and I’ll carry on wittering until I’ve bored both of us unconscious? Okay, I can roll with that.’
I couldn’t imagine anything I’d rather do right then than lie here and listen to Daniel’s gentle murmurs through the dark. Except, perhaps, wriggle close enough to feel the warmth of his breath, lean forwards and…
‘Gnnnnnn!’ Our roommate let out an anguished groan before inhaling her lungs to maximum capacity and letting rip with precisely how she felt about waking up in the middle of the night in a strange cot, with a strange blanket, strange potpourri smells and strange shadows dancing on the walls.
There was an ungainly scramble while I tried to tuck myself out of the way so that Daniel, on the side furthest from the cot, could clamber over to grab Hope before the entire B & B were jolted awake in a manner that definitely went against Tufted Duck policy.
An age later, she still hadn’t settled. Every time she dozed off, and Daniel placed her back in the cot, she woke up, squawking in outrage.
‘Okay, so there is something else I can try,’ he whispered, after she’d nodded against his shoulder for the fourth time.
‘I could squeeze into the cot, and she could have my space in the bed?’ I suggested, only half joking.
‘If I tuck something that smells of me in there, that usually settles her.’
Good plan. I could imagine the gloriously sweet dreams I’d have surrounded by Daniel’s reassuring scent.
‘The only trouble is, if I put my T-shirt from today in her cot, and then wear another one now, I won’t have a clean one for tomorrow.’
I squinted through the shadows, my brain failing to decipher his point.
He shrugged awkwardly. ‘I’m asking if you mind me sleeping without a T-shirt.’
Okay, so now I couldn’t breathe.
I grabbed my phone and skedaddled out of there.