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“I’ve had fourteen bookings this season—eight of which were my fault, but seven of which were disputable.”
Paul Gascoigne, former England national soccer player
Flynn waited until the camera crew had gone home for the night before he went round to the back of his van and bent over to open the hatch underneath it. He smiled into the darkness when he heard the tiny squeaks.
“Look who’s hungry.” He picked up the three miniature hedgehogs and placed them on the grass.
The babies were about five weeks old, as far as he could tell. He’d found them beside their dead mother one night when he’d been out walking in the woods. Well, hobbling in the woods. He wasn’t sure what killed the mother, but the babies had been mewing softly beside her, hungry and scared. Flynn had scooped them up, as he’d done with many an injured animal over the years, taken them back to his van and set up a home for them in the cabin under it. In a couple of weeks they would start foraging for their own food, but for now they still needed him.
Flynn fetched their food from his kitchen, sat on the grass beside them and hand-fed the hoglets. They would have been fine eating straight from the dish, but he needed the comfort of caring for them more than they needed the comfort he could provide. For a precious few minutes they helped him forget his life was screwed up six ways to Sunday.
“Wouldn’t it be great if everything was as simple as dealing with you guys?”
Pulling his phone from his pocket, Flynn called his agent’s number again. Professional athletes didn’t tend to keep office hours so Flynn knew there would be someone to take his call.
“I’m sorry, Mr Boyle,” the secretary said. “As I told you earlier, he’s unavailable.”
Flynn ground his teeth together as he stared out into the darkness. “He’s been unavailable for days. I keep leaving messages, but he doesn’t get back to me.”
“I’m afraid all I can do is take another message.” The woman sounded as though she’d rather boil her eyeballs.
“Great, take another message. Tell him, again, that I want him to get me out of this documentary shoot. I’ve had enough. I want it done. He needs to talk to the sports studio and break the contract.”
“No problem, Mr Boyle.” The line went dead as the damn woman hung up on him. Again.
Flynn let out a stream of curses, most of which he’d learned on the soccer pitch, and let his head thud back onto the van behind him. His agent was dodging him. Michael was right: now there were no huge contracts in his future, or megabuck endorsements, his representation had lost interest in him. If this kept up he’d have to go to London in person and camp on his doorstep until he dealt with him. He pinched the bridge of his nose as the pain in his leg spiked. Powerless. He was so bloody powerless. The injury had robbed him of his career and the respect it garnered. He’d been so used to having a voice. People fell over themselves to listen to him. Now, he couldn’t even get his agent on the phone.
One of the hoglets demanded his attention by trying to climb over his leg. Flynn smiled and helped the little guy. Life was so much simpler with animals than it was with people. Maybe he’d take the money he’d made from investing in his brother’s big brain and buy an island somewhere. He’d fill the place with all sorts of animals and become a hermit. Aye, it was a great idea. No more people. No more criticism, or whining, or bullying. No more living up to someone’s expectations or disappointing them when he didn’t. The more he thought about it, the better the idea became.
Flynn closed his eyes, listened to the noises of the night and planned a future away from it all.
♦♦♦
The walls were closing in on Abby. As soon as Katy was asleep, she locked the house up tight, snatched the baby monitor and made the short walk across the corner of Flynn’s property to the stream. She knew from experience she would hear Katy perfectly from her spot by the water and could be back at her side in a moment if needed.
The darkness folded around her like a blanket. The weight of the night soothing to her nerves. Behind a copse of trees, hidden by the overgrowth, was a fallen log. Abby brushed her fingers over the worn wood. Years she’d come here to sit. First with her husband and then alone. She remembered the times she’d sat wrapped in David’s arms as they whispered their hopes for the future. He’d had such wonderful dreams. All of which revolved around having a family, something he hadn’t known as a child. He’d wanted a house full of laughing children, a thriving business, a place in the community and to love her for the rest of his life. They were simple desires, but each one infinitely precious. Remembering David’s whispered hopes brought back the gnawing pain deep in Abby’s chest. The pain that never quite left her. The one throbbing with memory.
Abby sat on the log and stared out over the water. The soothing sounds of it trickling over the pebbled bed eased her clenched muscles somewhat.
“I’m screwing up, David,” she whispered to the water. “If you were still here, everything would be okay. You would know what to do about Victoria.” She scoffed at herself. “If you were here, this situation wouldn’t have happened in the first place. You would have dealt with Flynn before everything got out of hand. He would have listened to you. Everyone did. You had a way with people. Charming, you were so charming, David.”
She pulled her feet up onto the log in front of her and wrapped her arms around her knees.
“If you’d been here, we probably wouldn’t have had to sell the land to Flynn to start again. You would have thought of a way to keep the mushroom farm going, even after the cave-in.” She closed her eyes. “I’m so sorry, honey. I wish I could have saved your farm for you. I know how much it meant to you.”
She worked to steady her breathing for a minute or two. Listening to the water and the night noises as small creatures rustled through the edge of the wood.
“I kissed him,” she whispered.
The breeze on her cheeks was all the answer she received.
“I liked it.” She let out a long groan. “I feel as though I shouldn’t have liked it. As though I’ve been unfaithful to you. But you aren’t here, David. You left me, my sweet man. I miss you so much. I miss your arms around me. I miss your sweet kisses. I hate having another man’s kiss to compare to yours. I hate that I liked it so much. I hate that it made me feel. At the same time, I desperately want to feel like that again. Like I’m actually living my life, rather than treading water, trying to keep afloat, trying not to drown. I’m sorry about this too. I’m sorry I have to move on from you.” She let out a sharp laugh. “Although probably not with Flynn.” Her fingertips traced over her lips, as though it was possible to still feel Flynn’s touch there. “I did like his kiss, though.”
An owl cried out, breaking into the memory of Flynn’s warm, firm lips on hers. Of his taking control of the kiss, of her body, of her. It was delicious. More so, because she felt it was almost forbidden. Her heart had thudded with the teenage excitement of kissing a bad boy. What a cliché! She was a mother, with responsibilities, not a hormonally driven teenager with time to lust after an inappropriate boy. She had no time to think about kissing anyone. She had to focus on her daughter.
“Victoria wants Katy.” The words burned like acid in her throat. “Well, Mother wants Katy. Not to spend time with her, no, that wouldn’t be proper enough. She wants to send her to boarding school, teach her how to be a proper lady, raise her to be reserved and constrained—exactly as she did with me. It kills me to think it’s even a possibility.”
Abby put her feet down and stared at the black water. The only light came from the moon above and the glow from the house behind her. The world was painted in shades of grey, and for some reason the lack of colour made it feel intimate. This place, this log, was the only spot where Abby felt like she was comforted. Here she could feel David with her. Here she could let go of her responsibilities and fears, if only for a moment. She gave voice to her worries. Only here, where there was no one to judge, or condemn, or to scare.
“I wish you could see Katy,” she said. “You would be totally in love with her. More than you were before you went away. She is priceless. Smart, funny, full of life and love. She makes me laugh, David, even when my heart is breaking or my stomach is roiling with fear. I never know what she’s going to say next, which could be a huge problem right now. I dread to think what she might tell Victoria. It will be a miracle if Victoria doesn’t condemn my parenting on Katy’s tales alone. I need to figure out a way to censor Katy. She’s so young. Too young to understand her words can be used against us. I don’t know what to do. I wish you were here to help me. I wish it wasn’t just me. Alone. Fighting everything alone.”
Abby stood, dusted off her dress and blinked back tears she didn’t have time to shed.
“I’m being pathetic. There’s no time to wallow in self-pity. There are things to deal with.” She smiled out over the water. “I wish she knew you, darling.” Her voice broke on the words. “I wish that the most. I wish she had you.”
She wiped a stray tear with the back of her hand as she turned to leave. She couldn’t stay away from the house too long. That would be irresponsible. And as much as Abby’s responsibilities pressed down on her, making her buckle under the weight, she couldn’t ignore them. No, she could never escape for longer than a few stolen minutes. With one last glance at the log that held so many of her private memories, good and bad, she crept silently back to her house. And back to the problems mounting as they waited for her to deal with them.
♦♦♦
Flynn watched Abby walk back to her house. He hadn’t meant to listen. He’d intended to tease. To make her eyes blaze with passion and coax her into another kiss.
And then she’d started to talk.
At her first word, Flynn took a step back and let the darkness swallow him. Loneliness and fear oozed from her, like blood from a seeping wound. He was used to an Abby who was controlled, responsible and sensible. Not one who was scared of the future and insecure about herself.
And he was to blame.
There was no denying it. He’d been blamed for other people’s problems in the past. It didn’t have much effect on him. But this was something else. Something new.
He rubbed his chest where it started to ache. It took him a minute to realise why he was in pain. It wasn’t heartburn.
It was guilt.