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Well, that’s knocked the arrival of the divorce papers into second place of importance, thought Shay as she left the café. She had wondered over the years what she would do if she ever saw him again and she couldn’t call it. Exploding was a possibility, but she hadn’t figured on this slow burn where finding herself with him was too big for her to take in all at once. Shock had temporarily numbed her, preserving her heart from bursting; it was only when she got out onto the pavement and began walking that she started to feel the full effect of being in the orbit of Jonah Wells once again: light-headed and shaky as if her blood had turned into champagne. He’d looked happy, content and she was glad for him. But, unreasonable, selfish and stupid as it was, she couldn’t help the stray wish that he’d been on ice for twenty-nine years, waiting for her return.
She didn’t turn down the street that would lead her back to Milk Lane but went straight on, following the route she had taken so many times before. Past the betting shop, past the butchers – both still trading. Past the small park whereshe and Denny used to spin each other on the spider’s web. It wasn’t there any more, probably removed by an over-zealous health and safety officer who didn’t appreciate how much fun that whirling until you couldn’t walk straight and wanted to vomit could bring. How they’d laughed in that park.
St John’s School was closed for the summer holidays, the gates were locked up so she could only look through the railings at it. The last time she’d been in there was to sit her maths GCSE. She recalled walking out, the feeling of elation that all the exams were over and there was a long summer to look forward to before they went to the sixth form college in Penistone. Woven in with that joy had been a tinge of sadness too, for something had come to an end. She’d felt it, like a shiver, a portent. She remembered it vividly, a second at most, yet it had stayed with her all those years. She’d been happy here in this school. So happy. The door to the left led to the lockers, the door to the right, the PE block. The crumbly old science labs had been extended and she wondered if kids studying there today still used Bunsen burners plugged into gas taps on stodgy wooden work benches.
She took a right after the school, down to the end of the leafy Church Avenue. The Old Rectory was the last house, renamed now ‘Malcoria House’ which was dreadful. Malcolm and Gloria, presumably, should have left well alone. She wondered if another little girl slept in the pink attic room, and if the red Aga stove remained to warm up the huge kitchen. And if her wooden hedgehog house in the garden had lasted the course.
Did the owners eat their breakfast in the room at the back where the sun poured in through the windows in themorning? Were the cellars still damp and cold and scary? It was a beautiful house and compared to it the bungalow in Merriment Close had felt soulless. There was no history in its new bricks, no layers of emotion pressed into its air like an indelible watermark, no residue from families who had grown up in it, but then Roberta had been eager for a clean canvas to begin painting a fresh picture for them all.
Shay walked back along the avenue, crossed the road and stared down the twisty country lane in front of her. It led to what had really brought her here, which wasn’t to revisit steps taken in school shoes or remember old Victorian houses which drowned in a sea of leaves in autumn. Up there was Starling Farm, Denny’s home, where she had seen him alive for the last time and his words to her had been so untypically harsh. Whatever had forced him to take himself off into the woods, throw a rope over their tree and hang himself had been there in his mind when he was pushing her away. She would do everything she could to dig it out of the lies and hold it up to the light because she needed to see it, needed everyone who had ever judged her wrongly to see it too. And yet she wasn’t ready to walk up the hill yet because she was frightened she’d find nothing. And what then?
Chapter 31
She’d brought no smart clothes with her for going out in because she hadn’t expected she’d need any. She teamed up a pair of comfy black chinos with a flowery red shirt, hoping that was what one wore to have dinner with an ex-boyfriend and the school bully who was now his wife. She wondered what they’d talk about as they sat around the table. She’d prefer to listen than answer the fateful question, ‘So what have you done in the past twenty-nine years, Shay?’ A lot of water had flowed under their bridges in that time. It had all but carried her away.
She heard a car draw up at five to six and the cheerful pip of a horn. She slung her bag over her shoulder, picked up her keys from the worktop, dropped them, picked them up again, giving herself the hard word to calm down. She was stupidly nervous, wondering if this reunionà troiswas a big mistake. Was it a good idea to go poking about in the past in the hope of dragging it into the future, she asked herself – before the sharp realisation hit her that this was her prime reason for being in Millspring.
There was a shiny black Jag sitting outside Candlemas,with a cream leather interior, as she found out when she got inside.
‘I set off slightly early,’ said Jonah, smiling a hello. ‘I’ve been driving around for ten minutes as it happens.’
She noted the polo player insignia on his dark blue shirt; Ralph Lauren. He still looked good in the colour.
‘I’m sorry I don’t have anything a bit more dressy to wear,’ she apologised.
‘It’s just dinner with an old friend, nothing to dress up for,’ he said to that, turning onto the High Street. ‘Can you remember after the GCSEs, I got a job in Watson’s cheese factory? Well I ended up running it and then buying it.’
‘I do remember that, yes,’ said Shay. ‘At least I remember you telling… us you’d got the job.’Us.She and Denny. She was excited because she’d landed a position in the ice-cream parlour and Denny was going to spend the summer working for a landscape gardener and, as she recalled, Jonah wasn’t that keen about the cheese factory, but the pay sounded good.
They headed up the hill where the factory was. Where once there was a small, hand-painted sign denoting the location of Watson’s Cheese Factory now there was grander signage: Millspring Barn Creamery – Home of the Yorkshire Crumble Cheese. The Jag took the turning immediately after it, down a long crunchy gravel path, and parked in front of a long barn converted into a modern home.
‘How lovely,’ said Shay.
‘It wasn’t when I first bought it,’ said Jonah. ‘It was a proper labour of love that took forever. Come on, let’s eat and talk.’ He turned to her and the years melted away and it was Jonah the boy who was smiling at her again.
‘At times I thought I should have just pulled the lot down and started to build a house from scratch,’ said Jonah, locking his car with a zap. ‘It was a total never-ending money pit, but I persevered. I should have gone into building rather than cheese, I’d have made more profit.’
She doubted that; this was the house of a man doing very well for himself.
There was a deep woof as Jonah went to unlock one half of an arched wooden door that wouldn’t have looked out of place on aGame of Thronescastle.
‘You okay with dogs? They’re soft but big.’
‘I’m fine with dogs,’ said Shay, though she started a little when three giant animals spilled out in greeting, sniffing the newcomer before concentrating on giving their master their attention.
‘They’re all from the local rehoming centre and like the barn, have needed a bit of work,’ explained Jonah and pointed to each dog in turn. ‘That’s Atlas, Moose and Buck. Between them they’ve got about forty different breeds covered. Moose is afraid of the dark, Buck won’t let you touch the top of his head, Atlas doesn’t like people with beards so Mrs Wardle wouldn’t have got near him.’
Shay laughed. There was a blast from the past – Mrs Wardle the music teacher with the walrus hairs at the side of her lips and sprouting out from her chin.
‘Come in,’ Jonah said, ushering her inside. The barn was cavernous and open-plan, with an abundance of wood and rustic bumpy walls painted with cosy cream paint. There was a magnificent fireplace to the right serving three sofas and to the left a dining table with heavy baronial chairs and beyond, asang-de-boeufcoloured kitchen. The mix was quaint, charming and very stylish.
‘Excuse the décor. I was never that great at coordinating.’
‘You’re underselling yourself,’ said Shay. There was a massive floor-to-ceiling window that afforded a view of a wild garden at the back and a small lake.
‘Oh my, look, that’s fantastic,’ said Shay, her breath stolen.
‘I always wanted one, so I had it dug out when I could afford it,’ said Jonah. ‘No point in hanging about. We both know how short life can be.’
