| |
Angel sipped her brandy, and gave a sigh of pleasure as the liquid threaded through her, warming and relaxing as it went.
Hal was watching her, and she couldn’t deny that her pulse had sped up a little since he came back into the room.
“So what did you get up to today?” he asked, sliding down the sofa a little so he could rest his head on the back.
She told him what she’d done, from washing her clothes to visiting the church and priory.
“I used to be a choir boy,” he said.
“That explains a lot.” She smiled.
He chuckled. “What did you think of the priory?”
“I thought it was beautiful. I’ve wanted to see it for so long. Tell me, did you have a hand in the information boards around the site?”
“I did. One of my proudest moments.”
“I can understand that. I’d feel the same if it were me.”
He sipped his whisky. “So you’re planning to look for another job?”
“That’s at the top of my wish list for next year,” she admitted. Mentioning the wish list reminded her that it had magically reappeared. “By the way, was it you or Ian who took the sheet of paper out of the glove box and put it in my case?”
He opened his mouth to answer, but met her gaze before he could reply. She could see instantly by the way his lips curved a tiny fraction that he’d read it—especially the last item.
“Jesus.” She tipped her head onto the back of the chair, her face burning.
“I’m so sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to intrude. Ian asked me to clear out the glove box, and I glanced at the paper to see whether it was rubbish or something you would want to keep.”
She sighed and looked back at him. “It’s okay. I hope it gave you a laugh.”
His expression softened. “I wouldn’t put it that way.”
She studied her glass. “The last item was a joke. Kind of.” She smiled. “The rest of it was an attempt to think about tiny steps toward being happy, you know?”
“I get it.”
She nibbled her bottom lip. How much should she tell him? The room was so quiet, the mood relaxed and warm. Hal’s eyes were gentle, and she felt an urge to open up to him.
“The thing is,” she said hesitantly, “I suffer from depression.”
His brow flickered with a frown. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“I’ve had it a long time. I think it started when my father died, on Christmas Eve.”
“Jesus.”
“Yeah. I was only eight, hardly older than Jamie, but I took it really hard. I struggled all through my teens. I tried to hide it, and Mum didn’t really understand depression anyway, so I didn’t have any medication, or see a counsellor.”
She took a big mouthful of brandy and let it sear down to her stomach. “I was late going to university, but when I eventually went, I felt better, because I was busy, I suppose, doing something I loved. I took my MA, and I was doing really well. Then I met Eoin, at Exeter University. My family is from Chepstow, but when I finished my MA, he convinced me to stay in the West Country with him.”
She paused for a moment. We Three Kings was spilling from the speakers, filling the air with the haunting memory of Christmas past. “I was madly in love with him,” she said, staring into the fire. “I was completely consumed. I would have followed him anywhere. We rented an apartment, but we wanted our own house, and we needed a deposit to put down. I’d applied for the few archaeological jobs that were around, without any luck, and in the end, I thought I might as well do some secretarial work while I was waiting for something better, just to bring in some money.”
Hal nodded. “That makes sense.”
“But days turned into months, and months into years, and suddenly I was thirty and working at a lubrication firm. Where had all my dreams gone? There was no chance to look for a proper career. So I gave up on the idea, and decided I’d concentrate on my partner and having a family.”
She swallowed hard—this was the difficult part to discuss. “We began trying to get pregnant, but nothing happened. After a few years, we had some tests and discovered that the problem was with me. In the end we turned to IVF. We went through several cycles, but none of them worked. I began suffering from depression again, but although I went to the doctor, I was worried about taking medication, because you hear such horror stories about pregnancy and pills.”
Hal was watching her, his face serious. “That must have been hard.”
“Oh, it gets worse. After four rounds of IVF, our doctor started talking about other options like ovum donation or adoption. I didn’t cope with the news well—I spiraled down. It was hard on Eoin. Christmas is always difficult for me anyway, and he knew that; I suppose he could only see more misery ahead of us both. I got worse, and our relationship suffered. And then, last Christmas, he told me it was over. On Christmas Eve.”
“The anniversary of your father’s death?”
“Yeah.”
“Shit, that’s harsh.”
She blinked away sudden tears at the way his expression hardened. “Yes. As you can imagine, it wasn’t a good Christmas. My mother and sister couldn’t cope, and my friends were pulling away. I’m not criticizing them, by the way—I fully understand how hard I must have been to be around back then. I’m not sure if you know a lot about depression, but it’s like cancer of the soul. It eats away at your personality, and it changes you, taking away all the nice things about you. It attacks your self-esteem and erodes it. It’s like there’s someone sitting on your shoulder, telling you that you’re useless, and that you’ll never amount to anything. It kept telling me I’d fucked everything up, including my relationship. I withdrew from everyone and everything. Nobody noticed or cared—or that’s how it felt, which only made things worse. January went, and then suddenly it was Valentine’s Day, and I...” She stopped, took a swig of brandy, swallowed hard, and blew out a breath. “I took an overdose.”
“Oh, Angel...” He sat up and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, and for a long time they just studied each other, the silence saying more than words could ever have done.
“Lesa found me,” she said. “My older sister. She saved my life. Seems to be a common occurrence.” Her lips twisted.
“What happened?” he asked softly.
“She thinks it was a cry for help, so does my mum. It wasn’t, not in the sense they mean, anyway. I didn’t know Lesa was coming home early. I meant to take my own life. I was past considering the effect it would have on other people. I didn’t leave a note. I just wanted out.”
She finished off her brandy and sat up to put the glass on the table. “I stayed in hospital for a while. I met my therapist there. She was the first person I’d spoken to who seemed to understand what I was going through. I saw her every day for a while, then every other day, then twice a week for a few months. Now I just see her once a week. And I’m on medication. I’m very religious with taking it, and haven’t missed a dose since.”
“Why?” he asked.
Angel’s eyebrows rose. His gaze was direct, which surprised her. When she did tell people what had happened, which was rare, most people backed away at the speed of light. It was an interesting question, something that Jackie herself might have asked.
“Because... over the last six months, I’ve begun to feel different from how I felt before. My life isn’t perfect, but I feel more... responsible for it than I did. At the beginning of the year, I felt out of control. Life was something that happened to me. My relationship had ended, I was in a dull job, and I felt like I’d let myself down. We only get one chance at life, probably, and I felt like I’d blown it. And trying to put it right felt too difficult. Relationships are hard, and I couldn’t bear the thought of starting again. I tried to get another job but there’s so little around, as you know, and I’d been out of the field for a while. It was all too hard, and I felt worthless.”
“But you feel different now?” he asked.
She nodded. “I suppose the medication is helping, and the counselling, of course. My therapist has helped me rebuild my sense of self-worth, and she taught me that I don’t always have to ask for help—that I can cope. She’s taught me that I don’t need saving, not all the time, anyway.” Her lips twisted. “Only when I get caught by the tide.”
“Aw,” he said. “You’d already saved yourself. I just stepped in with the final evacuation.”
She smiled. “It’s given me a better sense of control over my own life. I take things a step at a time now.”
“Hence the wish list.”
“Hence the wish list,” she said, and smiled. “The latter part of this year, I’ve been working hard on taking steps to get my life in order. I’ve applied for jobs, and although I haven’t had much luck yet, I’ll get something eventually. I’ve been going to the gym, and walking a lot. I do a Yoga evening class. I’ve been listening to music, and being creative—painting and writing. I feel a lot better. But Christmas was always going to be a problem.”
As if on cue, her phone vibrated in her pocket. Giving him a wry smile, she pulled it out and read the text. “It’s from Lesa. Checking up on me.” She sighed and put it back in her pocket. “I understand why she’s worried, and Mum. Of course I do. They both feel guilty that they didn’t realize how bad I was. But now they’re afraid to let me out of their sight in case I do it again. They hate that I’m spending Christmas alone. It makes sense, but I just knew I had to get away. I feel like a different person than the woman who went to hospital in February. I need to prove to everyone—to myself—that I am different. That I can do this.”
“Did you tell them you’re with me?” he asked.
“No. I wanted to keep you to myself.”
He tipped his head to the side, and smiled. Then he rose, took a few steps toward her, and held out his left hand.
Surprised and puzzled, she placed her right one into it, and let him pull her to her feet. He put his right hand on her waist and moved a bit closer.
“Dance with me,” he said.
Bing Crosby was now singing White Christmas, but it felt a lot more magical than it had in the service station. Angel looked up into Hal’s eyes before resting her hand on his shoulder. Together, they began to move to the music.
Her heart banged against her ribs and it was hard to breathe, but he would never have known, because apart from Crosby’s voice, everything was quiet and still, as if the island itself was holding its breath.
“It’s snowing,” Hal murmured, and she looked out of the window to see light flakes floating down, covering the road in a fine layer of white.
“Oh,” she whispered. “What will you do if the kids get snowed in?”
“It’s too light to start laying at the moment. It looks as if we’ll have a real white Christmas, though.”
She smiled, Bing’s beautiful voice crooning the words as they swayed.
For a while, they didn’t say anything else.
Angel looked at where Hal’s hand held her own. His seemed a lot bigger than her own fine-boned hand, and his skin was warm and a shade darker than hers. Up close, she could smell the same scent she’d smelled on his sweatshirt. He was quite a bit taller than her, too; if she were to lean close and tilt her head slightly, she’d be able to press her lips to the hollow of his throat.
She didn’t. But she could have.
His right hand rested in the small of her back, and she could hear him humming, the sound reverberating through him. Jeez, he was handsome. But he was just being kind, she reminded herself.
“Hal?” she asked softly.
“Mmm?”
“Why did you ask me to dance?”
“Because I’m full of admiration that you’ve been through so much, and come through it so well. I know you were joking about being a shield maiden, but you could put most of them to shame.”
Her face grew hot. “Now I know you’re joking.”
“I’m really not. Courage isn’t about not being scared—it’s about doing things despite being scared. You hit rock bottom, and it would have been so easy to stay there, but you picked yourself up and dusted yourself down, and you’re rebuilding yourself, brick by brick. Don’t you think that’s the stuff of Viking legend?”
A hot tear ran down her cheek. She brushed it away hastily, but another seemed determined to follow its path.
“Aw,” he said. “Come here.” He dropped her hand and wrapped his arms around her, and she gave in, slid her arms around his waist, and buried her face in his sweater.
