Chloe’s Cornish Christmas (The Blossomwood Bay #7)

Chapter Twenty Four

Everything that had happened between them, from the moment they’d met on that deserted country road, had been based on a false foundation, a slick professional performance worthy of any stage production, and calculated to ensure that no one in the community discovered the true reason for Nick’s so-called “sabbatical” at Fairholme Farm.

No wonder he had been vague about his career background whenever she’d tried to broach the subject. Whilst he hadn’t confirmed it when they’d spoken, it was clear from what Dan had said that Nick was some kind of property sales agent, working for a real estate agency based in Guildford who were involved in marketing Fairholme Farm, its two barns, and the adjacent orchard.

So that was why Nick was in Perrinsby.

Not to look after Mitzy, or to keep the farm ticking over until his aunt returned from Australia, but to measure up the rooms, take photographs, gather together the paperwork, and to give potential purchasers the guided tour. He’d had no intention whatsoever of helping his aunt to diversify so she could improve the business’s finances and engage the services of a full-time manager to alleviate the load.

When she was coming up with all those suggestions – cider-tasting classes, cider- making classes, cider cocktail-making classes, Great Cornish Bake-Off classes, treasure hunts around the orchard, sponsorship of an apple tree, gift boxes filled with apple and cider related goodies – he must have been quietly laughing at her, amused by her futile efforts when he knew that he had a friend waiting in the wings, ready to take the farm off his aunt’s hands for a handsome price.

How could he do that?

How could he even think about selling the place to someone like Dan Jamieson when he knew Dan had no desire to maintain the orchard as an ongoing business? He planned to cut down the apple trees, for heaven’s sake! Trees that had grown there for decades, some of which were rare, all of which were capable of producing delicious fruit and excellent cider.

And what about the decision he’d made not to tell her that he was the one responsible for running her off the road? Instead he had allowed her to believe that he was some kind of knight-in-shining-armour when really he’d only come to her aid because he was guilty of causing the accident in the first place. Why hadn’t he simply told her the truth, there and then, instead of carrying on with the farce?

Now that she knew he had lied about those things, it made her wonder what else he had lied about.

Chloe forced herself to revisit all the things they had done together since she’d arrived in Perrinsby: their cider-tasting night in Martyn’s cidery, their biscuit-baking marathon in Ruth’s cosy farmhouse kitchen, the cocktail-making night at the Dog she had shared things with him she hadn’t shared with her family or her friends!

She felt sick.

How could she stay at the farm now, knowing what she knew?

She had to get away, as far away from the village as she could before Nick got back from his trip to Guildford; a trip she suspected was probably related to Dan and Amanda’s interest in securing the purchase of the farm.

She scrambled up from the sofa and headed into the bedroom, dragged her suitcases from under the bed and the tatty cardboard boxes from the top of the wardrobe, and started to fling her belongings into them. The crack in her heart was growing ever wider as more and more pieces of the jigsaw slotted into place – from the inconsequential details to the huge, whopping misdirections – to provide a more accurate picture of what – or more specifically, whom – she was dealing with.

She’d thought Nick drove a silver Range Rover, but it turned out that belonged to his uncle and he actually owned the bright red Porsche she’d seen parked in the dilapidated garage. Of course, that kind of vehicle was much more in keeping with the image of a high-flying, well-remunerated, estate agent.

She also remembered the clothes Nick had been wearing when she’d first met him during the rainstorm – the smart corporate suit, the crisp collared shirt, the polished leather shoes – which also confirmed the “businessman” persona.

She felt like a na?ve idiot for not reading the signs.

Had anything he’d told her been true?

What about the story about his relationship with Louise? Were they really separated?

Oh God, what if they were married !?

Her stomach performed an agonising somersault of distress.

It didn’t take Chloe long to gather her possessions, and when she had finished stuffing her last few odds and ends into a black bin liner, she paused to survey the sum total of her life piled up in the middle of the loft’s living room floor. It wasn’t much to show for the last nine years, but she couldn’t dwell on that soul-destroying issue as well as everything else or she might find herself looking at her sanity in the rear-view mirror.

She picked up one of the suitcases, grabbed her car keys and phone from the coffee table, and headed down the stairs, repeating the journey several more times until everything was packed neatly into the back of her Renault, most of it in exactly the same place as it had been only a few short weeks ago, but minus the gin and vodka bottles she’d used for the cocktail event.

She then slammed the boot hatch shut and returned to the loft for a final time, reflecting on the fact that once again she was on the move. Was this to be her life now? A nomad flitting from one place to the next, never resting, never settling, constantly cast adrift from the security of having a permanent home and a community to be part of? Nothing was forever, she knew that better than most, but why did it have to hurt so much when things came to an end?

Holding back her tears, she checked the cupboards and the drawers, then turned off all the lights. As she headed down the stairs for the last time, she experienced an almost overwhelming surge of emotion as it occurred to her that she was in an even worse position than she had been when she’d left her flat above the newsagents in Blossomwood Bay.

She was still homeless, but now her heart was broken in two; not just because of Nick’s duplicity and the way he had sought to involve her in his charade – the reason for which she couldn’t begin to fathom – but also for the loss of the friends she had made in Perrinsby who had taken her into their lives and who now meant so much to her.

With a final sigh, she locked the door to Ruth’s cosy retreat and posted the brass key through the letterbox, and for the first time since she’d decided to leave, she wondered where she was going to stay that night. She’d had to make that decision many times before, but this time it felt different, and once again, as she headed down the driveway and onto the road that led out of the village, it started to rain, making everywhere look darker and much scarier.

Nowhere felt safe.

When she joined the main highway back to Devon, the combination of the rain lashing against the windscreen, the dazzling headlights of the oncoming traffic, and her now flowing tears all served to obscure her vision and create a lethal trio of hazards. While she couldn’t wait to get as far away from Cornwall as possible, she didn’t want to end up stuck in a hedge again, so she forced herself to slow down, and, when she spotted a deserted car park next to a roadside pub, she decided to stop to catch her breath.

It was after midnight and there was no one around. She knew she couldn’t stay the night there, but she needed time to calm down before continuing on her journey. She wasn’t concentrating, and she would never forgive herself if she was the cause of an accident, which in the worsening weather conditions was more than a possibility. She cut the engine and slumped back against her seat, wondering what to do next, and an image of a previous time when she’d been in that same situation flashed into her mind.

She wished she could turn back the clock.

If she could, she would do whatever was necessary to eradicate the agony that was swirling through her veins at that precise moment. She couldn’t believe that Nick hadn’t been honest with her from the beginning. She’d never been to Perrinsby before – she’d never even been to Cornwall – and she didn’t know anyone who lived there, so she wasn’t in any way interested or invested in the future of the farmhouse, or the orchard, or the cidery, or how its sale would impact on the people who lived in the village.

Why had Nick chosen to include her in his subterfuge? Why had he driven her back to Perrinsby with him, organised for her car to be rescued, and offered her a place to stay when he could have so easily dropped her off at any pub or B&B in the vicinity?

But as the rain continued to thump out a symphony of woe onto the roof of her car, she remembered what Nick had said to her during their last conversation – “We all have secrets, Chloe, even you” – and an uncomfortable realisation dawned.

Wasn’t she also guilty of being economical with the truth when it suited her?

She hadn’t told her father about leaving London, she hadn’t told her sister about losing her home, and she hadn’t told Holly she was living in her car. However, she had done all these things to protect them, to stop those who meant the most to her from worrying about her when they had their own issues to deal with, not for personal gain, and certainly not so she could upgrade her car to a coveted Ferrari!

Nevertheless, she had still lied, if not blatantly, then by omission.

She should have told her father that she’d left her job at Baxter & Carlton when she and Harry had separated. She should have told him she’d moved away from London because she couldn’t afford the rent on the apartment they had shared, and she should have told him that she’d relocated to Devon to make a fresh start. She should have allowed him the opportunity to be part of the exciting launch of her brand-new beach hut distillery, and she should have told him when it was destroyed in a freak accident.

And, she realised with a pang of regret, she should have told him about her dream to be an artist, that being creative was what truly made her happy, not poring over legal statutes and witness statements, or standing up in court and arguing a case in front of a po-faced judge.

But the worst part of it all was that she had denied him the chance to be her father, to be there for her when she needed him the most. After all, how could he empathise with the disasters that had befallen her and offer his help and support – if not physical, then certainly emotional – if he didn’t know about them?

It was her own fault she didn’t feel close to him.

Hadn’t she told him time and time again that she was “fine” when in reality she wasn’t fine at all? All her father had done was believe her, trusting her to tell him the truth. How could she blame him for that?

And she had also lied to her sister, although not to the same extent.

Martha knew she’d moved to Devon, and she knew about the boardwalk fire, she just didn’t know about her subsequent housing problems, and the same was true for her Blossomwood Bay friends. They all thought she was living in her bijoux studio above the newsagents, happily delivering her mobile cocktail-making classes while she waited for the insurance money to come though. She’d kept them in the dark because she knew that Martha and Holly in particular would have insisted that she move in with them, either in Brighton or at the Fox & Fiddle .

But what was wrong with that?

Their kindness was evidence that they cared about her and wanted to give her their love and support until things improved. She’d been searching so long for the elusive sense of belonging she had craved since losing her mum and being forced to leave everything and everyone she knew at their home in Oxford for the unfamiliarity of London, that when it was offered to her she didn’t recognise it. Only now did she realise that.

She had to admit that she was ashamed of losing her home, but that shouldn’t have prevented her from accepting help when it was so generously offered – that was what friendship, community, and belonging was all about – which meant there were several other people to add to the list she had been less than honest with.

Liz, Fran, Hannah and Joe had all shown her a great deal of kindness since she had landed in their midst, and for no other reason than because they wanted to. She’d seen Joe’s concerned expression when he’d found the paraphernalia of personal possessions in the back of her car, but she had chosen to invent a story about “storing it for a friend” instead of coming clean about her living arrangements.

The others had also asked her about her background, and she hadn’t been forthcoming with them either, and yet they had still welcomed her into the fold, encouraging her to join in with the Christmas tree contest, introducing her to books she might enjoy reading, and offering to give her a much-needed haircut and manicure. And Joe had not only rescued and repaired her car, he’d valeted it, too!

And how was she thanking these wonderful friends?

By running away within hours of promising to help them put their village pantomime back on track. She’d chosen to take the easy route, vanishing into the darkness without a backward glance and returning to the life she’d had before they knew she existed.

But she knew in her heart of hearts that she couldn’t do that. She couldn’t leave them wondering why she hadn’t turned up at the village hall the next morning with her paintbrush in hand ready to do her absolute best to emulate Ryan’s talent for scenery creation.

She had to go back

She had to fulfil her promise.

Then, when she’d done that, she would call her dad and tell him the truth so that Martha didn’t have to. And she would call Holly, too, confess that she had lost her home, and accept her friend’s generous offer to stay at the Fox & Fiddle with her and Oscar, and Ariel and Max, for Christmas.

Opening up, talking about her problems and accepting help, wasn’t a sign of weakness, it was a sign of strength, and it was also the key to achieving that longed-for feeling of belonging she had thought was unattainable when in reality it was already there and all she had to do was reach out and embrace it.