Cosy Nights & Snowball Fights (Little Duck Pond Cafe #36)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

I managed to get up and tested putting weight on my foot. It hurt but it was bearable, so I limped over to a nearby tree and leaned against the trunk, facing away from the runners that were streaming past. The last thing I wanted was to hold up some stranger who might feel they needed to help me... but the thought of trying to find Mum, limping on this ankle, wasn’t a pleasant one.

‘What happened, Laurel?’

I turned and to my surprise Josh was standing there, hands on hips, gazing down at me. ‘I looked back and you weren’t there, so I wondered... have you hurt yourself?’ He was still breathing heavily from his sprint.

I smiled sheepishly. ‘Went over on my ankle.’ I wiggled the foot in question, feeling more than a little ridiculous. I couldn’t believe I was having to duck out of the run after just five minutes! ‘I’m sure it’s nothing serious, though.’

‘But can you put weight on it?’ His look was doubtful. ‘Maybe you should go to the first aid tent over there and get it checked out. Just in case.’

‘Oh, no. It’ll be fine. I can still walk on it so it can’t be broken.’ I took a few steps but had to stop a second later. The sharp pain clearly showed on my face because Josh immediately swung into action.

‘Come on. I’ll help you over there. You’ll need an ice-pack to take the swelling down.’ He moved towards me. ‘Lean in and hold onto me and let me take your weight,’ he instructed, wrapping his arm around me and pulling me gently but firmly against his side.

After my initial shock at the contact, I submitted gratefully, slipping my hand around his firm waist and holding on tightly as we began to make our rather awkward, lolloping way across the grass. My head was whirling crazily and I almost laughed, thinking we must look like a pair of ungainly parents at a school sports day attempting the three-legged race!

‘Is this okay?’ His hot breath tickled my ear.

I mumbled that it was. I could feel my heart thundering in my chest and I couldn’t tell if it was due to the sudden exertion or because I was being held against Josh in a strong grip that was both comforting and unnerving at the same time. I was almost being lifted off the ground as the powerful strength in his long, muscular limbs carried me along, making me feel I was in utterly safe hands. But that same intimate proximity – feeling the sweat of his back where his T-shirt had ridden up and breathing in the tantalising musky male scent of him – was stirring me up inside and making me feel sensations I hadn’t experienced in a very long time.

Then I stumbled slightly, putting too much weight on my foot, and a yelp of pain escaped.

Stopping, Josh murmured, ‘Look, do you mind if I...?’ He gestured that he wanted to carry me, and in my weakened physical and emotional state, all I could do was nod my head.

I felt myself swept up into Josh’s strong arms and held against his chest, and then we were moving the last hundred yards towards the tent at speed. Feeling like I must weigh a ton, I slipped my arms around Josh’s neck in a vain attempt to lighten his load, although it was clear from the ease with which he transported me that it was a completely unnecessary gesture.

He delivered me into the hands of two first aiders and as I stood there, feeling rather spaced out and shaky, Josh explained to them what had happened. The female first aider ushered me to a chair, while the young guy chatted and put me at my ease by joking that spraining my ankle was surely a rather extreme way of getting out of completing the run.

It turned out that my ankle wasn’t badly injured, but I sat with my foot up for a while as an ice-pack was applied to make the slight swelling go down. The first aiders advised resting it for the remainder of the day, although I felt a bit of a fraud. It was bruised, not broken. And for that, I’d managed to ruin Josh’s race. I phoned Mum to tell her what had happened, knowing she’d be waiting for Dad and me at the finish line.

‘My mum’s coming to collect me,’ I told Josh, who was chatting to the first aiders. ‘So you can get back to the run now.’

He grinned sheepishly. ‘I was rather hoping you might need me a bit longer.’

‘Right.’ I laughed awkwardly. Did he want to stick around and keep me company? Or did he mean that if he were still needed here, he wouldn’t have to finish the run? I really wasn’t sure.

He insisted on staying until Mum arrived, and I asked him about his job. Apparently, he’d volunteered at the local hospital radio station at weekends for a year after leaving uni with a degree in media studies. And then last year, he’d landed a coveted job at Radio Daydream.

‘So your ambition is to be a radio presenter?’ I asked, shading my eyes from the pesky, low-in-the-sky autumn sun to look up at him.

‘I wouldn’t say no. But I guess we’ll have to see.’ When he smiled, his eyes crinkled at the corners, and the sight seemed to be having a strange fluttery effect on my insides, like a pair of birds were looping the loop in there.

When Mum arrived, she brought Dad with her.

I introduced them to Josh, explaining that he worked for Radio Daydream and that he’d gallantly come to my rescue.

Mum seemed totally charmed. And Dad started talking to him about sport and the recent Olympics, and from what Josh was saying, I gleaned that he was almost as much of a fan of early morning runs as Dad was.

‘I can’t believe you’ve finished the run already,’ I said to Dad when I could finally get a word in. ‘What was your time?’

‘Just over half an hour. Thirty-six minutes, to be precise.’

I smiled. ‘That’s great. Especially for an oldie like you.’

‘Hey, you!’

‘An oldie but goodie,’ said Mum, nudging him affectionately. She smiled at Josh. ‘It’s lovely to meet you, but we’ve held you up long enough.’

Josh nodded ruefully, looking in no great hurry. ‘I suppose I’d better get back to it. Great to meet you, too.’ He nodded at Mum and Dad, then he smiled at me. ‘Hopefully see you soon, Laurel. Take care.’ And he was gone, sprinting back to where he left off.

‘Well, what a lovely boy!’ said Mum, beaming after him.

‘Mum!’ I winced, not entirely sure that Josh was out of earshot yet.

She frowned. ‘What’s wrong? He is lovely, the way he took care of you like that. Friends like that should be cherished.’

‘He’s . . . not really a friend.’

‘But you knew him before today, didn’t you?’ She looked puzzled.

‘Well, yes. Sort of.’

Dad grinned at Mum. ‘I see Josh has a fan. Don’t blame you. He seems like a nice guy.’

She smiled. ‘You two were chatting away as if you’d known each other for years.’

‘Well, he’s a runner.’ Dad shrugged, as if that said it all. He rubbed his hands together. ‘Right. I need to hydrate. Back in a minute.’ He strode off in the direction of the nearest water station.

‘So...’ Mum was looking at me speculatively. ‘Josh works at the radio station?’

I grinned, knowing quite well her game. ‘You know he does. He told you. He wants to be a presenter one day.’

‘How wonderful.’ She gave me a sly glance. ‘And has he got a girlfriend?’

‘What?’ I stared at her, shaking my head incredulously. ‘Why on earth are you asking me that? I told you, I barely know him.’

‘Well, he seems to like you.’

‘No, he doesn’t. And anyway, I’m not ready for... well, meeting someone else. It’s too soon...’

Mum gave a little sigh. ‘Oh, Laurel.’

‘What?’ I snapped, frowning up at her.

She reached for my hand. ‘Sorry but that Gavin-Scumbag-Morris never even deserved you in the first place.’ She virtually spat out his name. ‘And yet he’s apparently still stopping you from being happy, even from a distance.’

I swallowed hard, not knowing what to say to that. I liked the scumbag bit, though. That wasn’t like Mum at all and it showed how angry she still was at the way he’d treated me.

She hunkered down, her hands on my knees, and looked at me beseechingly. ‘I just really hate what he did to you, Laurel. It makes my blood boil to think he’s probably happily getting on with his life, while you’re... well, still struggling to cope with the fall-out from his disgusting behaviour.’ Smiling, she rubbed my knees encouragingly. ‘I just want my happy, carefree girl back. The way you were before you met him. That’s all.’

I sighed. It sounded so simple, the way she said it. But then, that was my fault. They really hadn’t a clue.

‘You said it was a stranger that Gavin... had a fling with... that you didn’t know her. But Dad and I... well, we were wondering why you and Jo fell out. You were such good friends but now you don’t see each other and we thought maybe –’

‘No! Mum, no!’ I could feel the familiar panic rising up inside. ‘Look, please let’s not spoil today by raking over all that old stuff? Let’s just forget about it, okay, and enjoy the rest of the weekend?’

I was pleading with her, my throat choked up and – seeing that I was so upset – Mum gathered me in a hug and I gave in to the tears.

‘Of course you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,’ she murmured. ‘But just remember we’re always here for you, your dad and I. Day or night. Okay?’

‘I know you are,’ I muttered.

We stayed like that for a moment, then Mum rose to her feet a little awkwardly. ‘Oof, I’m not as flexible as I used to be. I must do yoga more regularly. Ah, here’s your dad. We’ll head back now, shall we?’

‘Sorry for ruining the day.’

‘But you haven’t. We can just have a lazy day back at the cottage instead... I’ll cook a Sunday roast while you sit with your feet up. How about that?’

I smiled. ‘Lovely.’

She gave me a serious look. ‘Can I just ask you one more question?’

I nodded and she helped me to my feet.

‘You wouldn’t want to get back with Gavin, would you? After what happened?’

I stared at her in horror. ‘No, Mum. Never!’

She nodded, looking relieved. ‘That’s what I thought. So... maybe it’s time to give someone else a chance?’

I gave her a watery smile. ‘You mean Josh. And that’s two questions.’

Gently, she brushed a tear from my cheek, smiling at me so tenderly I felt emotional all over again. ‘I just want the best for my little girl,’ she murmured. ‘Because you deserve it, Laurel. And Josh seems lovely. That’s all.’

I grinned. ‘Okay. I hear you.’

She linked my arm and squeezed, and then Dad joined us.

‘We weren’t sure whether to mention this to you, Laurel.’ Mum threw a worried look at Dad as we walked slowly over the grass to the car. ‘I know you said you never wanted to see her again after the terrible scene she caused at your graduation. But... well, Jackie’s out of rehab and the word is she’s turned her life around.’

I froze. ‘Has she? Well, good for her.’

Mum sighed. ‘I don’t blame you for being bitter, love. Not in the slightest. I’m sure I’d feel exactly the same. We just thought we should let you know. Just in case you ever changed your mind about having her in your life.’

*****

From my earliest memories, Jackie had always been addicted to alcohol. Whenever I look back, it’s always the wine and the whisky I remember... the smell of it, mainly, which – ever afterwards – made me feel sick to my stomach if I got too close. Especially whisky.

Jackie hid bottles in the shed and at the back of drawers and cupboards all over the house. I pretended I didn’t know but of course I did. Kids aren’t stupid, and from a young age I was picking up on my mother’s every mood, letting her ups and far more frequent downs dictate how I myself was feeling.

I would know the instant I got home from school how much she’d been drinking. She’d either be in an ebullient mood, pacing around the house, knocking into furniture and laughing about things I didn’t understand. Or she’d be stretched out on the sofa, sleeping it off. There never seemed to be much of an in-between stage, and I found myself praying for the quiet nights, when she was tucked up safely in bed and I could lose myself in the books my Auntie Viv brought me.

When Mum watched TV on the sofa with me, she’d be drinking steadily and I’d watch the level in her wine bottle, praying that she’d start feeling sleepy and I could help her to bed before she started on the vodka again.

Once in a blue moon, when I arrived back from school, she’d be in the kitchen, cooking a proper meal and asking me how my day went. She’d have showered and blow-dried her dark hair until it was smooth and put on red lipstick and one of her slim-fitting dresses and a pair of heels, and I’d stare at her in awe and wish she could always look this pretty. On those nights, I could relax a little and almost manage to kid myself that we were a ‘normal’ family. Mum just liked a drink, that was all – the same way other people spent too much on takeaways or smoked a lot (smoking was really bad for you and at least Mum didn’t do that, except for smoking a spliff sometimes). And anyway, no one was perfect.

Usually, though, her occasional sobriety was the result of a phone call from my Auntie Viv, who lived in London with my uncle, Mum’s brother. He’d finally washed his hands of her when she’d carried on drinking when she was pregnant with me, and he’d wanted nothing to do with either of us. But Auntie Viv came to see us on her own every now and then, and I knew Mum made an effort to appear sober and ‘together’ on those occasions, although I could tell Viv wasn’t fooled. It was the lingering smell of booze that gave Mum away and a few times, I saw Viv pretending to go to the bathroom but sneaking a look in a cupboard or a drawer on the way back.

I liked Auntie Viv. She was a bit bossy but I felt safe when she was there and I wished she lived nearer. Jackie was always polite to Viv’s face but once she’d left, she’d start drinking again and say nasty things about her, which I hated.

Auntie Viv confided in me much later – when she took me out for lunch to celebrate my eighteenth birthday – that, worried about my safety, she’d alerted Social Services on two occasions, once when I was four and again a year later, but that their investigations hadn’t led to any action being taken.

It was only when I was ten and we almost perished in a terrifying blaze at the house, that the authorities finally decided I had to be taken into care.