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She wasn’t going to go over there. Harriet could see the pub though the window of the shop as she slapped the sign round to ‘open’. Tim had messaged her to say they were leaving after breakfast. She wanted to go and say goodbye to Niamh. To say, please don’t hate me. But that would mean seeing Tim and she couldn’t face that. She hauled the newspapers onto the counter and sorted them. It wasn’t that she was embarrassed about kissing him. Well, maybe a bit. It was all very well getting your tongue down a random horny stranger in a nightclub, but when it was someone you knew ... someone you actually wanted to see again ... That was different. And stupid. She should have left well alone.
“Idiot,” she muttered as she stacked the papers neatly in the display. The remaining pile was for the pub. She normally waited until Ellie, the assistant from the bakery, came in with the loaves and cinnamon rolls and got Ellie to mind the shop while she ran across with the papers. Maybe this time she could ask Ellie to take the papers instead.
Harriet rubbed a hand over her face. This was new. This discomfort. It twanged inside her, resonating in time to the sadness that she carried around with her. Kissing any number of random men in nightclubs had never made her feel like this. They were strangers who served a purpose. By the next day they were irrelevant. Like a bottle of wine. You drank it. Paid for it with a hangover the next day, then forgot about it. You didn’t have to feel guilty for drinking it. Yet kissing Tim had been different. She knew him. She liked him. Harriet sighed. If she was being honest, she fancied him and ever since she found out about his childhood, she felt like she understood him. If it hadn’t been for that, she wouldn’t have told him about ... all that other stuff. She pressed a fist against her chest and rubbed at the parcel of emptiness she carried there. Richard and the baby who never even had a name.
She got the pricing gun to mark up the new stock. If Niamh and Tim hadn’t showed up, she would still have been wearing her grief like a cloak, pushing away the very people who would help her. She should go and say goodbye. It would be awkward, but she only had to get through this one encounter with Tim. She’d never see him again.
By the time Ellie showed up, bringing with her the smell of cinnamon and sugar, Harriet had made up her mind. She quickly explained that she was nipping across to the pub, grabbed the parcel of newspapers and hurried off before she talked herself out of it.
Niamh was standing at the bar, watching Angie wrap up a round of sandwiches. She turned when Harriet showed up. “Hi.”
“Hi,” said Harriet. “Are you ... still talking to me?”
Niamh nodded. “Uncle Tim explained,” she said.
“Don’t judge Richard too harshly,” Harriet said. “Or me.”
Niamh flung her arms around Harriet and squeezed her. “I don’t,” she said, her voice muffled in Harriet’s shoulder. “I’m so glad I came to see you. I feel like ... like I’ve got to know Dad again. All the good stuff, you know. I need to hold onto the good stuff and remember it.” She let go of Harriet and took a step back. There were tears in her eyes. “You helped me remember.”
Tears rose in Harriet’s eyes too. “You helped me too.”
They hugged each other again, less fiercely this time.
“Keep in touch, yeah?” said Harriet. “If you ever want to chat, you know where to find me.”
“I will,” said Niamh. Her eyes flicked to someone behind Harriet.
Harriet didn’t have to turn to know that Tim had come downstairs. She turned anyway.
He looked exhausted. Bags lined his eyes. He hadn’t bothered to shave, giving him a rough dusting of stubble. It suited him. Less professor, more Indiana Jones. “You came,” he said.
“Well, I couldn’t let you run off without saying goodbye,” she said. For a second, they stood there, not sure what to do next. Finally, Harriet stuck out her hand. “Well, goodbye, Tim. It was really nice to meet you.”
He shook her hand, his warm fingers wrapping around her hand. She had a sudden memory of those hands cupping her face and felt a flash of heat. His eyes widened and he dropped her hand.
“It was nice to meet you too,” he said, sounding very formal. “Thank you so much for all you’ve done for Niamh. I don’t dare think how things would have gone if you hadn’t got her from the station.”
“It’s fine. I’m glad to be able to help.”
Tim looked past her at Niamh. “Ready?”
Niamh waved the packet of sandwiches. “Ready.” She stepped up to Harriet and gave her another hug. “I’ll message you,” she said.
“You do that.” Harriet smiled and looked into Niamh’s eyes, that reminded her so much of Richard’s. “Be ...” She had been about to say “be careful”, but Niamh would have been hearing that far too much. “Be kind to yourself,” she said, instead.
“I will.” Niamh gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Bye, Harriet.” She turned to her uncle. “Come on then, Uncle Tim. Let’s get this show on the road.”
Tim rolled his eyes. “Thank you,” he called out to Angie. He gave Harriet a small wave and turned to leave.
“Don’t forget to rate us on TripAdvisor.” Typical Angie.
Harriet said, “Look after yourself, Tim.”
He paused and looked over his shoulder. His eyes, such startling blue, looked into hers and she felt a desperate urge to grab onto him and beg him not to leave. “You too,” he said, softly.
She and Angie trailed after them to the door and watched them leave.
“Well, they were nice,” said Angie. “Especially that Tim.”
Harriet tensed, sensing where this was going.
“Went out for a walk late last night, he did,” said Angie.
“Did he now?” said Harriet.
“Yes. He was gone ever such a while.”
“Must have been a long walk then.” Harriet rubbed her hands together. “Right. I’d better get back to the shop. See you later, Ange.”
“Harriet—” Angie’s voice dropped to a more conspiratorial pitch.
Harriet narrowed her eyes. She would talk about it, but not yet. “Angie ...?” she said, a note of warning in her voice.
Angie caught her gaze and sighed. “Nothing,” she said. “You know where to find me, if you need me. I’ll see you later, love.”
Harriet nodded. She left the pub car park and paused. From here, she could still see Tim’s car, crawling up the hill on its way out of the village. To the other side was the church and beyond it the patchwork of rippling green. Harriet breathed it in. Tim had asked her why she’d chosen here, of all places. She let out her breath and smiled. Because it felt like home.
****
The hill out of the village was so steep that Tim’s car was complaining, even in second gear. He shifted down to first. They crested the hill and he shifted gears with a little huff of relief. In his pocket, his phone connected to the network and buzzed. Work messages, no doubt. They would have to wait until he got home, just like the emails in his inbox. He’d glanced through them that morning and decided none of them were urgent enough to ruin these last few hours of tranquillity. He felt like he’d been away from work for weeks. Really, it had only been two days. In front of him the road, hemmed by drystone walls, wound through fields. It was a different world to the one he knew. He shifted his shoulders a little and was surprised at how loose they felt. The tension that he’d been carrying around with him ever since he’d found out that Niamh had run away was finally abating. He was taking Niamh home.
They just had to make it back down to the house before Mel and Alex got home and everything would be fine. Niamh was happier. He and Niamh were friends again and Mel need never know.
Niamh’s phone was buzzing madly too. She pulled it out and stared at the screen. “Huh? Weird.”
“What’s up?”
“I’ve got fifteen missed calls. They’re all from the same number. It’s not someone on my contacts list.”
“Did they leave a message?”
Niamh nodded. She fiddled about for a minute, then held the phone to her ear. Tim could hear the voicemail kicking in. The first message burst out, a babble of angry invective. Niamh’s eyes widened. She looked across at Tim, horror writ large on her face.
He didn’t know to ask who it was. It was Mel.
“She knows,” said Niamh. “She knows where we are!”
“But how? How can she possibly know? We haven’t told anyone.”
“She’s been tracking my phone.” Niamh’s face was bloodless. “Oh Uncle Tim, she’s going to kill me.”
“Shit,” said Tim. “She’s going to kill us both.”