Helena followed Raffy over to the playground, his bike already thrown to one side, spokes spinning. She smiled at Nathalie, one of the mums in the village, who was often there with her gaggle of three. Her blonde hair was tied up in a redundant crimson scrunchie: most of it seemed to have escaped. A mobile with a neon pink cover was clenched between her ear and her shoulder as she chatted away. Yellow and purple beaded earrings hung from her earlobes like swinging trapezes. She wore an oversized Micky Mouse T-shirt and leggings. Helena felt boring next to her in her plain white V-neck and jeans. Nathalie’s two girls were playing on the slide while her son played on his DS, completely absorbed. Helena knew her well enough to say hi to, but that was about it. She often worried that she and Noah hadn’t really integrated properly into the village since theyhad moved here, let alone into the school community, but Noah was an introvert, he kept himself to himself, and Helena agreed it was unfair to disturb his peace and quiet after a busy working week.
Raffy greeted the girls, who were at his school, then raced over to the swings. As Helena pushed Raffy higher and higher, peals of laughter filled the air. She held him up so he could reach the monkey bars, and they bounced up and down on the see-saw as he chattered away about his day.
As they turned back up the track that led away from the village green, Helena noticed Margery, the eccentric older lady who lived next door, walking towards them. As always, she had her three yapping terriers with her, nipping at her heels in a tangle of leads.
‘Afternoon,’ she called. ‘And how are we today, young man?’ Margery beamed a lopsided grin at Raffy. She looked uncannily similar to Mrs Trunchbull.
‘Fine thanks,’ Raffy replied, jumping off his bike to stroke Trevor, Tammy and Terry. ‘Hello dogs!’ Their sandpapery tongues covered Raffy’s hands in sharp licks as their tails wagged furiously.
‘Looks like rain,’ Margery said, glancing upwards with the air of a mystic sage, the whiskery silver hairs of her moustache catching the afternoon light.
‘I hope you don’t get caught,’ Helena said.
‘And the washing is out,’ Margery sighed. ‘Too much to do, too much to do…’ she sang to herself as she continued down the lane. ‘Come on Trevor, NO!Leavethat horse poo, it’s FILTHY! I saidleaveit. Silly boy…’ She tailed off, wittering away to the dogs, as she so often did.
Helena turned to watch her. Her bottom was approximately twice the width of her shoulders, encased in khaki trousers which were tucked haphazardly into green wellies. Her silvery-brown hair was piled up into a sort of chignon on the top of her head, like a geisha. There was something completely unabashed about her, and Helena admired her for it. She wished she was a bit more like Margery.
*
Later that evening, as Helena tucked Raffy up in bed, stroking his corkscrew curls and watching his breathing become slow and heavy as he drifted off to sleep, she thought back to the moment she had met his father, Noah, and the first time he had introduced her to his rosy-cheeked, beaming toddler. The psychic had been right. Had she had her own biological child, she couldn’t imagine it would have been possible to love him or her more than she loved Raffy. He was everything to her. Noah and Raffy, father and son, were all she could have hoped for. Their arrival in her life four years ago had been the most life-changing turn of events, and she was grateful beyond words that the fates had finally conspired to make it happen. A tiny part of her even wondered if her mother had been responsible for their paths crossing.
That night, the storm that had been brewing all afternoon roared into life. Helena drifted off to sleep listening to the rain pelting down on the skylights, rattling like tiny balls of glass.
In the early hours of the morning a change in temperature woke her as the covers lifted. She felt Noah slide under the duvet.
‘You’re back!’ She smiled sleepily as he leant over to kiss her. His body, bare skinned apart from his boxers, felt cool against her warm skin as he pressed up against her, spooning the back of her body.
‘Happy birthday,’ he murmured. ‘Did you miss me?’
‘Of course,’ she said, tingling as he kissed her gently on the nape of her neck. He ran the tip of his tongue lightly across the skin of her back, sliding the straps of her silk nightdress off her shoulders, kissing her and pulling her closer towards him, showing her exactly how much he had missed her. As Helena relaxed back into his arms, listening to the dramatic booms of thunder echo above her, losing herself in sensation, she decided that, as birthdays went, it had been a pretty good one. She could never have known, within a matter of months, just how much this perfect life would change.
2
‘DON’T YOU WANT TOknow what your present is?’ Noah asked the following morning as they lay entwined in each other’s arms. He had just been telling her about his business trip to Frankfurt, to which she had feigned the required level of interest. She lifted her head and looked at him quizzically. ‘How do you fancy a night in Hastings?’
‘Really?’ Helena grinned. They had been to the seaside town several times before. There was something about the timeless charm of the old town that Helena had fallen head over heels in love with. And it wasn’t too far away from their village, Hambleton. ‘Thank you’, Helena said as she pulled Noah towards her and kissed him.
‘I’ve booked a hotel for the three of us tonight. And I’m going to take you out for averyspoiling lunch.’ She watched him as he sprang out of bed and threw back the curtains, clearly in a wonderful mood. For company, Noah at his sparkling best was hard to beat: he was charming, jovial, energetic and passionate. His muscular body was smooth and lean, his skin olive brown thanks to his Maori heritage. He had striking aquiline features, green eyes, and the same dark hair as Raffy, but without the curls.
She smiled as he leant over to kiss her once more. ‘It sounds perfect!’
‘Raffy, guess who’s home?!’ Noah called as he walked down the landing and pushed open Raffy’s door. She could hear the rapturous greeting. Helena listened as they chattered away, stretching languorously before hauling herself up and out of bed. It was nice to have a co-parent back in the house again. Leaving Raffy and Noah to it, she closed the bathroom door and turned the showeron. She pulled her long hair into a bun, inspecting herself critically in the mirror as she did so. She noticed that her pale skin had acquired a smattering of freckles during the first weeks of summer. She had inherited her blue eyes, dark hair and pale skin from her Irish mother, Bridget. The older she got the more she saw traces of her own parents staring back from her reflection. It was strangely comforting, now that they were both no longer with her. A wave of grief washed over her. She would never get used to them being gone. The suddenness of her mother’s death seemed to make it so much harder to accept. She had died a year before Helena had met Noah. The absence of the one constant she had always been able to rely on had nearly thrown her over the edge. Noah had been the chink of light in the dark, a life raft she had clung to. She hated to think what would have become of her if he hadn’t appeared in her life at that moment.
As she stood under the powerful jets, letting the steaming hot water pummel her shoulders, she let out a contented sigh. The psychic had been right. Her life had completely changed in the last four years. She thought back to the life she had had before, in London, working in events, living in a flat share. Now she was a mum to Raffy, a partner to Noah, she lived in the countryside and had a wonderful home… it was crazy to think how one chance encounter could have led to all this.
*
An hour and a half later, the three of them pulled up outside their home for the night: a boutique hotel in a crescent of Victorian mansions directly opposite Hastings seafront. It was a glorious, blue-skied day, scorching hot and perfectly clear. The storm from the night before was nowhere to be seen. They pottered along the beach and skimmed stones into the sea before wandering through the old town. After lunch on the seafront, they took the rickety Victorian lift up to the top of the cliff. Raffy squealed as they soared upwards, watching the famous black fishing huts shrink before his eyes. At the top, they stood and gazed at the view. Thesmall town was tucked into the surrounding coastline as if nestled in the palm of a hand. The sun bounced off the glistening sea, a thousand pinpricks of shimmering light.
‘Right, who wants an ice cream?’ Noah asked, spying a truck parked several metres away.
‘Me!’ screeched Raffy, racing over to the van.
Soon they were walking along the Downs, Raffy struggling to stop his ice cream from melting all over himself as they made their way through the winding pathways lined with wildflowers.
‘Shall we stop here for a bit?’ Helena asked, noticing Raffy tiring.
Noah pulled a picnic rug out from his backpack and they sprawled out under the shade of a tree, the three of them lying flat on their backs, their heads touching as their legs made the shape of a starfish. Helena felt Raffy’s small hand reach around to take hold of hers, she gave it a squeeze and smiled, staring up at the jewel like glimpses of blue beyond the canopy of leaves overhead.
