Chapter Seven
Ginny
The train finally trundled into the station in Butterbury and Ginny was greeted with the cloudy skies her app had predicted. She stood up, pushed her arms through the loops of her backpack, lifted it onto her back and secured the straps before the train had even come to a stop.
The last time she’d been home, Daisy had met her from the train in one of the worst storms to hitButterbury. She’d picked her up in the Caribbean aqua Mini Cooper she’d had since she gave up on the idea of getting her degree and instead fell into the family business, earning money straight away. All Ginny could remember was being grateful Daisy had used her money on a car and not frittered it away. She was the youngest, had once been irresponsible and all over the place, and the car had beenlike the mark of a new start, a grown-up life that would make everyone else’s lives a lot calmer. The wild streak had, it seemed, become less of a problem as her sister grew up.
Ginny emerged onto the platform and filed out of the station with everyone else. Already she could sense a change in the mood as she made her way from the station towards the village, the shift from a city or town-likeatmosphere. A cold breeze blew against her, making it a little harder to walk with the backpack. No need for a gym, no need to squeeze in a run or a weight’s session when you did all this walking and had a job that kept you on your feet. She thought how Fern had been a runner over the years, going every single morning without fail as though she had a timetable that must be adhered to. Although thelast time Ginny had talked to her sister and deigned to ask whether she still went running, Fern had bitten her head off with retorts claiming how family life as well as a demanding job didn’t allow for much else. Ginny had left it there, she hadn’t wanted to add any more fuel to that particular fire. Her sister had talked to her as though she resented what Ginny had when Ginny envied Fern andher well laid-out life, the direction she never wavered from. And what Fern failed to see was that perhaps Ginny’s freedom had come at a price and perhaps it wasn’t all happy and rosy every day of the year.
As Ginny walked she remembered fondly the times she’d walked this route with her dad. Sometimes she’d go and meet him from the station when he finished work. He and Fern were always talkingmaths problems at home in the evenings, Daisy loved to cuddle up on his lap and watch television when she was very little and then they’d had their camping trips, and so Ginny had carved out some of her own time with him by going to meet him off the train. Her mum had been too busy in the shop to tell her off for going out when she had homework, and Ginny had even done it when it was dark, insistingto her dad that Butterbury was perfectly safe. They’d walked home talking about their days, general chit-chat not of interest to anyone else, but it was enough for her. They’d pause and look at the birds hopping to the feeder in the front garden of the house beside the church, they’d turn the corner near the bus stop in winter where the man who owned the house always put up a nativity displayin what looked like an old rabbit hutch. Those were her favourite days, when the walk became more of a stroll, and when they’d stop at the Lantern Bakery and buy peppermint fudge to enjoy before they got found out by Loretta who would tell them off for spoiling their appetite before dinner.
Ginny smiled when she saw the nativity display exactly where it was every year. A mother had brought herkids along to see it tonight and she passed them and made her way towards Lantern Square. She smiled all the more when the square came into sight, marked out by the beacon of the enormous Christmas tree in situ.
As she drew closer to the heart of the village and crossed over to walk beside the square and peek at the illuminated creatures in the flowerbeds, embrace the Christmas lights strungfrom one side of the street to the other, she watched a robin redbreast hop from the iron railings to the branch of the nearest tree, behind the foliage and out of sight. She was never quick enough to take a photograph. Daisy would’ve been, the robin would’ve likely posed for her.
She was so deep in her own thoughts as she walked on that she almost collided with a Christmas tree coming rightfor her.
‘Sorry, didn’t see you there …’ Local gardener Rhys peeked out from behind the tree and when he saw who it was a smile spread across his face. ‘Why if it isn’t Ginny Chamberlain.’
She beamed. ‘Rhys!’ Rugged and handsome local boy with his heart in the right place, he looked after the flowerbeds and lawns in the square as well as the grounds up at Butterbury Lodge.
‘I’d pick you upand hug you right now if I wasn’t holding this tree.’
‘I’m hugging you anyway,’ she grinned, stepping closer and hugging him the best she could without getting a face full of pine needles.
‘It’s been too long, Ginny.’
‘I know, but great to see you now.’
His eyes darted to the left and then back to her. He had a mischievous look on his face when he leaned a bit closer and whispered, ‘I seesomeone else who wouldn’t mind a hug from you.’ He gently tilted his head to one side in the direction of the pavement across the road and when Ginny glanced over she saw Lucas popping something into the red postbox.
Her heart in her mouth having not seen him in years she barely heard Rhys when he added, ‘We’ll catch up in the pub soon, yeah? I’d better get this to my customer.’
She mumbledan agreement as, unable to take her eyes away from Lucas, her stomach betrayed her by flipping like the pancake she’d tossed last Shrove Tuesday. Except this time it didn’t settle back into the frying pan the way it should. It hovered, unsure what to do.
And it seemed he had no idea either. Because he’d just spotted her.
It was Lucas who finally made the move to come across when it seemed herlegs weren’t about to oblige. ‘That looks heavy.’ He eyed her backpack. ‘You didn’t think of getting a taxi from the station?’
She felt awkward beneath his gaze and banter as though they’d only seen one another weeks rather than years ago, as though they didn’t have a deep history, even his smell was a reminder of their familiarity – the woody scent, a combination of the earthy outdoors and thecold with a special warmth that came from close proximity to someone who’d once been so much a part of your life. His caramel eyes were like the stickiest of toffee, impossible to come away from. ‘I walk everywhere,’ she stammered, discombobulated by seeing him all of a sudden. ‘It keeps me fit,’ she added, desperate not to sound like a total imbecile.
He paused as if he didn’t know how to respondto that. ‘How long are you staying?’
‘A few weeks.’ She wondered whether he could see the rise and fall of her chest. She could feel every movement as she tried to rid herself of the nerves that refused to stop fluttering. ‘I’d heard you were back in the village for good.’
‘Sure am. Have been for a while.’
She wanted to ask him what happened, why he’d decided not to pursue the different careerhe’d studied for. But perhaps that privileged conversation belonged to someone else now. Men like Lucas didn’t stay single for long. She’d shared a bed with this man, they’d once assumed they’d be together forever. How had they gone from that to these staccato sentences, barely able to relax around each other?
‘I guess I’ll see you around.’ He looked at her the way he always had, as though shewas the only woman in the world. Or perhaps she was imagining it, wishing for it in some way.
‘I’m sure you will.’ She said her goodbyes, waved across at the local doctor, Joe, and his fiancé, Hannah, as they headed towards the post office armed with parcels, and left Lucas to chat with them while she escaped in the direction of the Butterbury Sewing Box. She’d go there first rather than homebecause otherwise she’d get Busker all excited at her arrival and she’d have to leave him.
Ginny finally reached the shop and pushing open the door felt as much like coming home as it would do going to the house. The familiarity washed over her, the colours of the fabric, the sense of warmth as Loretta rushed over to envelop her in a big hug.
When her mother eventually let her go Ginny shruggedoff her backpack. She left it out at the back while Loretta made the tea and Ginny went into the shop. She smiled at the sight of the window display, the baubles that she’d made once when she was off school for what felt like the longest bout of flu in history. The wool had held its colour and Ginny ran her fingers across a couple of the pieces, remembering those days like they were yesterday.
Daisy was off seeing their grandad today so it was just Ginny and her mum. Ginny moved over to look at the tree and then the different stock they’d got in the shop since the last time she’d been here.
