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Harriet woke up and winced out of habit before realising her head didn’t hurt. She hauled herself upright. She felt tired, but ... different. The events of the night before came back in a rush. Niamh. She sprang out of bed and ran into the living room, suddenly dreading that she’d dreamt it all. That Niamh was just a proxy that her messed up mind had substituted for Richard, because dreaming about Richard every night wasn’t bad enough.
But Niamh was still curled up on the sofa. Still real. Still asleep. An immense sense of relief washed over Harriet. She slumped against the wall. Everything from last night had really happened. Niamh had reached out to her for help and she’d responded like a fully functioning adult. To do anything else would have let Richard down.
She dressed and crept downstairs to run the papers across to the pub. The shop didn’t open for a while yet, but the punters at the pub liked their papers nice and early. The pub reception was empty, so she popped them behind the desk and got back. She finished off her early tasks and went back upstairs to go have a shower and wake up properly.
By the time she was ready, light glared through the small gap in the curtains. Harriet checked the time. Eight o’clock. Niamh was still asleep. She shook her head and crept back to her room.
She should call Tim at the pub and let him know that Niamh was okay. She would have to phone the pub reception to get the number for his room. He had also taken her number. Harriet sank onto her bed and put her face in her hands.
Niamh wanted to talk about her dad. She was working through her grief, desperate to make sure she remembered him. Harriet recognised the feeling. That fleeting moment when she couldn’t quite remember the shape of his face or the exact timbre of his voice. The horror that one day she wouldn’t be able to recall him at all. She had tried to reassure Niamh that this was normal. That for every moment of fading, there would be one of absolute clarity, when it felt like he was still alive, just about to walk into the room. This happened to Harriet, but would it really happen for Niamh?
Where Harriet lived in a place that was steeped in Richard, Niamh lived with a woman who hated talking about him. From what she’d said, there were no photos dotted around the place, no little mementoes. While Harriet could, and frequently did, pretend that Richard was not dead, that he would show up on Friday and stay for the weekend, Niamh couldn’t do that. Poor kid.
Counselling. Pah. That Mel was the one who needed her head seeing to.
Then there was this Tim guy. Harriet glanced at her cordless phone. She really should get in touch and tell him that Niamh was still here, but sleeping in like the teenager she was.
She wasn’t sure what to make of Tim. He was Mel’s twin brother, so she’d been expecting someone brisk and abrasive, but all she’d seen last night was a man who was frantic with worry for his niece. His face when he knelt in front of her to check if she was okay ... he seemed kind. Not at all like the unthinking evil sidekick that she had expected.
What had Richard said about him? Nothing much, she decided. Tim. Mel’s brother. Academic. Quiet. Irrelevant. And now he was here. Which made him a bit more relevant.
The phone rang. She snatched it up, knowing it was going to be Tim.
“She’s still here. She’s fine,” she said, instead of a greeting.
“Oh good,” said Tim, relief evident in his voice. “Is she awake?”
“She’s fourteen. What do you think?”
“Oh, right. I was going to have breakfast and then—”
“I need to go to work by nine.” Well, half nine would do, but it was best to keep a little leeway.
“I’ll be there before nine.”
She should just hand Niamh over to his care and leave them to it ... but Niamh needed to talk about her father, to keep her happy memories of him. Harriet thought of the girl’s green eyes, so like her father's. Truth be told, Harriet needed to talk about Richard too. Seeing Niamh again ... it was as though a little part of Richard had been returned to her. She needed Niamh to stay, at least for a little bit longer. Tim was not going to like that.
Harriet shrugged and got to her feet. Tough.
****
Tim was still groggy when he went downstairs for breakfast. The pub was quiet. There were a few couples finishing off their food and poring over maps. The table that had the best view from the window was occupied by a girl with a blue stripe in her hair. Tim chose a table at the edge of the room.
The landlady bustled in. “Hello, love. I’m Angie. I didn’t meet you last night. It was very late when you got in.”
“Yes. I’m so sorry to have bothered your husband at that time of night.”
“Oh, don’t you worry about it,” she said. “Harriet warned us that you’d be late getting here. Have you come far?”
“From Reading.”
“That’s quite a drive,” she said. “Especially if you’re not staying long. You should make a weekend of it. See the sights.”
“Um. I have to get back ...” He stopped talking. If he said much more, he’d have to explain why he was there and then his shockingly bad in loco parentis skills would come to light.
The landlady seemed to sense his reluctance. “Anyway, what can I get you for breakfast, love?”
He ordered an egg muffin and a pot of coffee. He wished he’d bought a newspaper. Or bothered to log on to the pub’s Wi-Fi. There was no mobile signal and he didn’t have much in data on his contract - why bother when he had free Wi-Fi where he worked? He would have to ask the landlady for the Wi-Fi password. With nothing to do, he ended up watching the other people in the room instead.
A man who looked Indian walked past him and took a seat opposite the girl with the blue stripe in her hair. Tim couldn’t see her face, but her stance relaxed immediately. He said something and the girl laughed.
Tim felt a sudden pang of envy. What must it be like to have someone who understood and complemented you? Someone so comfortable to be with. He had had that once, but now it was gone. With a start, he realised that the person he was thinking of wasn’t Sarah, but his best friend. He missed Nick more than he missed Sarah.
The landlady reappeared with his order and put it in front of him. He thanked her and turned to his food, expecting her to leave.
“So, how do you know Harriet then?” she asked.
“I don’t, really. Not very well. My niece ... knows her though. They’re ... friends.”
“Oh, that girl that was in here with Harriet last night. She cried a lot, last night, I think. I saw Harriet giving her a hug. Is she all right?”
Niamh had been crying. If anything, he felt worse now. Poor Niamh. It was probably a good thing that she had been asleep when he got there, otherwise he might have been stupid enough to have a go at her for running off. Clearly, there was stuff going on with Niamh that he didn’t understand. Her mother didn’t understand either, by the sounds of things. “She’s okay. She stayed over at Harriet’s last night.”
Angie gave a sniff. The sort of sniff that suggested that she wouldn’t have let Niamh stay at Harriet’s.
Tim couldn’t ignore that. He put his fork down. “You don’t like Harriet?” he asked, old anxieties resurfacing.
Angie gave a shrug. “She’s okay,” she said, carefully. “You’ll like her. Men usually do.”
Tim frowned. “But you don’t approve of Niamh staying with her. Why is that?”
Angie looked around and lowered her voice. “Between you and me and the gatepost, Harriet’s been acting a bit strange lately.”
Uh oh. He leaned forward. “Strange? How do you mean?” He tried to keep the rising panic out of his voice. Had he left his niece with some unbalanced weirdo?
“Well ...” Angie pulled a face. “Not her usual self, if you see what I mean. She used to do some working online thing, so she’d be out and about during the day. You know, pop into the coffee shop and the like. Then, about a year ago, she stopped doing all that. Went a bit quiet. Started working at the shop. And going out drinking.” Angie shook her head. “I reckon she broke up with her fella and took it a bit too hard.”
He tried to follow all this and reconcile it with the fierce woman he’d met the night before. “I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation ...” he said, carefully. He sifted through the information Angie had just spilled out. So Richard and Harriet had split up sometime before Richard died. That must have been some acrimonious breakup. Funny that Richard hadn’t mentioned it. Mel had assumed that Richard was on his way to Yorkshire to see Harriet when the accident happened, but maybe he hadn’t been. He wondered what Mel would make of that.
“Funny though,” said Angie thoughtfully. “I thought they looked really happy the last time I saw them together. That were a while ago, mind.” She smiled. “Anyway. How does your niece know her then?”
“Her father ... used to be Harriet’s partner. A couple of years ago.” It sounded like there had been a few men in Harriet’s life, so he added, “Richard.”
“She’s Richard’s little girl? Oh my, I didn’t recognise her. Hasn’t she grown? She was only about twelve when she came to stay that time.”
Richard had brought Niamh to this place? This was news to Tim. He wondered if Mel knew. He looked at his rapidly cooling breakfast and picked up a forkful.
Angie carried on. “So why is she here? Is she trying to get Richard and Harriet back together, you think?”
Tim paused in the act of putting the egg in his mouth. He lowered it. Harriet hadn’t even seen fit to tell people that Richard had died? “Um ... Richard ... he er ... Richard died. About a year ago.”
Angie’s hand flew to her mouth. “No. She never said! When he stopped coming to visit we all assumed ...” Her hand fluttered down to lie over her heart. “Poor Harriet. But why didn’t she say anything?”
Which was a good question. If Harriet hadn’t broken up with Richard ... Tim mentally rewound the conversation. Harriet had started acting weird after Richard died... but hadn’t told anyone about his death, so everyone had assumed he had split up with her and put her behaviour down to some sort of post-breakup trauma. But why would she keep something like that a secret?
Tim watched as, before his eyes, Angie recast Harriet from object of scorn to object of pity. He felt like he was watching something momentous.
Angie turned and addressed the couple in the window. “Did you know that Harriet’s boyfriend died last year?” she demanded.
They looked surprised. “Why on earth would we know anything about it?” said the girl with the blue striped hair.
“You’re young. And you get on well with her, Vinnie, don’t you?” Angie insisted.
“She’s never mentioned ...” said the guy. “That’s really sad. Maybe she doesn’t like to talk about it. Grief takes people that way sometimes.”
Tim suddenly felt bad. Small villages were rife with gossip. Harriet had clearly not wanted everyone to know and now everyone would know. Within minutes, if this morning was anything to go by. He reminded himself that Harriet had broken up his sister’s marriage. He shouldn’t feel bad. He really shouldn’t.
“Perhaps,” said the guy called Vinnie, “she didn’t want everyone to be gossiping about it behind her back.”
“I can understand that,” said the girl. “Maybe it’s best not to mention it, Auntie Angie.”
“But ...” The landlady looked stricken.
“Maybe don’t tell anyone else in the village yet,” the girl added. “I’m sure Harriet had her reasons for keeping it quiet.”
Angie frowned. “I suppose,” she said. Then, after a moment’s reflection, she added. “She’s always been there for us when we’ve needed anything. We’ll be there for her.” That decided, she gave Tim a friendly nod. “I hope your niece is feeling better.” She smiled at him and wandered off, still looking thoughtful.
Tim glanced across at the couple in the window. The guy raised his eyebrows. “Don’t worry about it,” he said. “Village politics. You get used to it.”
****
Harriet banged around in the kitchen, which had the desired effect of waking Niamh up.
“Morning,” Harriet said, cheerfully. “I’ve made coffee.” She plonked a mug of it in front of Niamh. “How’re you feeling this morning?”
Niamh sat up and rubbed her eyes. “My head hurts a little.” She pulled the coffee towards her. “Apart from that, I’m good.”
“Your uncle showed up last night,” said Harriet, watching the girl carefully, to see her reaction.
Niamh looked worried, but not scared. “Am I in terrible amounts of trouble? Has he told Mum?”
“Yes and no. I mean, yes, you’re probably in trouble, but no, I don’t think he’s told your mum.” Harriet sat down in the chair opposite Niamh. “Listen, I have to go and open the shop in a few minutes. I want you to make yourself at home. Use the shower. Whatever you need. I’m just downstairs.” She took a deep breath and then let it out. “I know your uncle is going to want to take you home now, but I want you to know that you’re welcome here for as long as you like. Okay?”
Niamh stared at her coffee for a moment. “Thank you,” she said, quietly. Bright green eyes looked up at Harriet. “I don’t want to go home. Not yet. I feel ... I want to explore here. Dad loved it in this village. He went on about how lovely and relaxing it was and showed me pictures of the church and the pub and things. I mean, I know he came here because he wanted to be with you, but I think he also really liked the place ... I want to see it, you know, see if I feel what he felt. It might make me feel a little closer to him.” She flushed. “Does that even make sense?”
Harriet, who still kept Richard’s pyjamas in her chest of drawers and his toothbrush in the bathroom, nodded. “It makes sense to me.”
She wanted to add that Niamh herself made Harriet feel closer to Richard, like he’d sent her so that they could heal each other, but she stopped herself. Saying it out loud was a step too far. She glanced up at the clock on the wall behind Niamh. “Oh heck. I’d better get going. If you need anything, just nip downstairs. There’s a connecting door to the shop.” She grabbed the keys to the shop, picked up her coffee in the other hand, and headed for the door. “Really, if you need anything at all, just come and get me.”
****
Tim tried messaging Niamh again before he stepped out of the pub. No answer. She had seen his first WhatsApp message though, according to the two ticks against it. She was probably sulking. Sighing, he slipped the phone into his pocket and stepped outside.
When he’d arrived it had been too dark to see anything. Now, in the weak sunshine, the village gleamed at him. It was like he’d stepped into a postcard. The hills rose up on either side, hemming the sky with green. He looked up and remembered the heart-stopping incline he’d driven down. It hadn’t been his imagination. It really was that steep. The main road threaded its way through the village and up over the next hill. The pub faced a fork in the road that lead off towards a picture perfect church with the valley behind it. A cherry tree was in full bloom just outside the pub. It couldn’t have looked more perfect. Tim took a deep breath, letting the sharp air fill his lungs. Richard had called this place idyllic. For the first time, Tim understood what he’d meant.
It only took a minute to walk across to Harriet’s place. Tim knocked on the side door before he realised that the shop was open and tried there instead. A bell above the door tinkled when he entered. It was a small corner shop, no more than a few aisles. Harriet was talking to a customer – a young woman with a pushchair. He watched her as she talked, observing her in full daylight for the first time.
His only real measure of Harriet was from what Mel had told him. She spoke of some parochial northern harpy who had ensnared Richard with her big boobs and empty head. From what he’d seen of her last night, Harriet, whilst certainly northern, was sharp tongued and assertive, not quite the airhead Mel had made her out to be. She was tall and her hair was a reddish brown. Looking at her now, he thought she was probably in her late thirties, or early forties at most. A treacherous part of him noted that Harriet was quite attractive. He tried to ignore that. He had to focus on getting Niamh back to Reading before Mel figured out something was wrong.
The customer left and Harriet looked in his direction. She nodded towards a door in the side wall of the shop. “She’s in the flat,” she said. “Just head up the stairs and knock.”
He approached the counter. “I just wanted to say thank you. If you hadn’t picked Niamh up from the station last night, who knows what might have happened.”
She avoided his eyes and brushed his thanks away. “Anyone would have done the same.”
He wanted to ask her why she hadn’t told anyone about Richard’s death. Why was it better to have been dumped by him than to have lost him in a car accident? But he didn’t know her well enough.
Instead, he said, “And thanks for feeding her. Look, do I owe you anything? For—”
“No. You’re all right.” She began shuffling postcards and local maps near the till, tidying them even though they didn’t need tidying.
“Right. Well ... thanks again.” He took a step away, before turning and heading towards the side door that led to her flat.
“Tim,” Harriet called after him.
He turned back.
“If she wants to stay an extra day or two ... she’s more than welcome. It’s nice to have her around.” There was something in the way she said it that made it sound like a plea. As though she wanted Niamh to stay, but didn’t want to ask. Puzzled, Tim opened the side door and headed up the steps.
He had to knock and call out to Niamh several times before she opened the door. “Oh. Hi Uncle Tim,” she said.
She was eating a slice of toast. Her hair was damp, suggesting she’d had a shower. He shut the door and had a good look at her, checking she was okay. She looked better than she had done the night before. There were shadows under her eyes, which wasn’t surprising considering how late she’d been up. Her nose was a bit red, but apart from that, she looked fine. His relief told him how worried he’d been.
“Can I get you a cup of tea or anything?” said Niamh, acting for all the world as though she lived there.
Now that he knew she was okay, Tim relaxed a bit. He knew he should be angry. He would be, eventually, but not yet. First he needed to get her home. “Seriously? Tea?” he said. “We need to get home before your mum finds out you were even gone.”
Niamh lowered the half-eaten toast. She looked up at him from under her fringe. “Don’t be cross.”
He sighed. “I’m not cross. I’m tired and I’ve had a terrible shock. Don’t ever do that to me again.”
“I’m sorry.” Her eyes filled with tears.
He held out his arms to her and she buried her face in his chest. When had she become so tall?
“You understand though, right?” she said into his shoulder. “Why I had to come.”
He patted her back. In a way, he did understand. It was hard to let someone go. He knew what it was like to say goodbye to someone he loved. He had said goodbye to Mel once. Things had worked out and he’d never actually lost her, though. So what did he know, truly? “I’m not sure I do, Niamh. I’m just glad you’re okay.”
“I don’t want to go home just yet,” said Niamh.
“We have to.”
“But look at this place.” Niamh took a step back from him and waved an arm. “Dad was here. There are pictures of him and notes with his handwriting on and stuff that he used. He used to sit in that chair. That’s his favourite mug. Harriet remembers him. She’s not trying to deny he ever existed, like Mum tries to do. I need to be here. Just a bit longer. Please. I need to.”
He looked around and tried to see the flat as she saw it, as a memorial to her father. All he saw was a slightly neglected place, which looked like any other one bedroomed flat.
“You can’t impose on Harriet,” he said. “She didn’t invite you here. It’s one thing to stay over in an emergency. To stay longer would just be taking advantage.”
“Harriet said I could stay as long as I wanted. I think she liked talking about Dad too.”
If she wants to stay an extra day or two ... she’s more than welcome. It sounded like Harriet felt this way too. Maybe if this had all been cleared with Mel beforehand, he and Niamh could have made a weekend of it. Heaven knows, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d taken some time off. But the way things were, the sooner he got her home, the better.
“I’m sorry, Niamh, but we really need to get you home before your mum finds out about all this. It’s bad enough if she hears that you ran away, but if she realises you were here ...”
Niamh’s face lost what little colour it had. “You’re not going to tell her, are you?”
“Of course not. But she’s going to find out. We’re in a place with no mobile phone coverage. The longer we stay here, the more likely it is that she’ll find out.”
Niamh eyed him thoughtfully and he realised he’d made a mistake. He should have kept the threat of telling Mel as an inducement. Dammit. Now that she knew he wasn’t intending to tell Mel, he was as good as sucked in to her escapade.
“Who else knows I’m not at home?” she said. “Wendy won’t tell.”
“I spoke to Wendy’s mum last night and told her I’d found you.”
“You spoke to Wendy’s mum?” A flare of panic. “Why?”
“Why d’you think? You disappeared. I thought you’d been abducted or something. Honestly, Niamh. Did you really think you could just run off like that without me trying to find you? I nearly had the police out looking for you.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously.” Good God, the child had no concept of what she had put him through. Perhaps she was more like Mel than she realised.
Niamh looked up at him, her eyes huge. “I’m sorry, Uncle Tim. I’m really sorry I scared you. It was a stupid thing to have done, but you have to understand. It was worth it. I needed to talk to someone about Dad ... I needed to be in the places he’d been. It’s important.” Her eyes glittered with the hint of tears. “I’m scared ... I think I might be forgetting him.” She put a hand on his arm. “That’s why I need to stay here a bit longer. Just a day or two. I want to walk in the places he walked. See the things he saw. He really loved this place. Not just Harriet, but the place. It was special.”
“No. No, Niamh. We’re going home.”
“One day, then, Uncle Tim. Just one more day. I promise I’ll be really well behaved. I won’t go anywhere without telling you. Just one more day.” She gazed up at him with big pleading eyes full of tears. “Please, Uncle Tim. Please.”
He looked down at her and it was like seeing Mel when she was a child. ‘Please, Tim, please. If you don’t do this for me, I might die.’ He had never had the heart to refuse. She had stopped doing that now that she was an adult, but the tone of voice still had the same effect on him. He always ended up doing what she wanted. Always. It seemed that Niamh had the same skill. Damn.
Besides, Niamh made a good point. He could understand that she needed time to feel close to her dad. He could well believe that Mel didn’t like to talk about Richard. Mel had been deeply hurt by her divorce from Richard and the only reason she had anything to do with him was because he needed access to Niamh. Niamh was clearly unhappy. Maybe, by giving her a few days here, she might be able to find some closure... or at least comfort.
He frowned. He would have to square this with Mel later. For all her bossiness, his sister always came round to doing the right thing. At this moment in time, the right thing for Niamh was to be here.
“Fine,” he said. “We’ll stay the weekend. We go home on Sunday - no arguments. Okay?”
“Yes.”
“And you’re not staying here. I’m booking a room for you in the pub. That is not negotiable.”
She threw her arms around him again and gave him a hard squeeze. “Thank you, thank you, thank you, Uncle Tim. You’re the best.”
He smiled at the top of her head. “Yeah, well. First of all though, we need to work out how we’re going to keep this from your mum until we’re ready. If she finds out now, she’ll abandon her retreat and come haring over here.”
“I have an idea,” said Niamh. She grabbed her jacket. “Come on.”