Winter Wishes (32 page)

“Mrs Lawrence? Ivy? Can you hear me?” she asked, crouching down beside her and resting her hand on the old woman’s chest. Thank goodness, there was a shallow rising and falling of those frail ribs. “Ivy? It’s Tara, Morgan’s mum. You’re going to be all right.”

 Envelopes were scattered on the floor all around Ivy. As Tara pushed them aside in order to kneel down, she saw that each one had a villager’s name on it and contained a glittery card; none of them were sealed yet. Mince pies were strewn everywhere as well, their crumbs and icing sugar dusting the carpet like the snow that was gradually covering the pavements outside.

     How weird.

“Tara? Tara Tremaine?” Ivy’s voice was thin and shaky.

Tara nodded. “That’s me.”

The elderly woman exhaled. “Thank you. Thank you.”

Ivy’s eyes were closed and her breath was coming in short gasps. At least her airways were clear, Tara thought with relief. She didn’t dare move her, but she reached out and took Ivy’s hand in hers. Claw-like fingers gripped her own as though Tara was a life raft that could stop Ivy from drowning.

“An ambulance is coming,” Tara told her. “It won’t be long.”

Ivy groaned. Her face was contorted with pain.

“Silly old fool. Wanted… Wanted to get out before it snowed. Slipped and fell in here.”

“Don’t try to talk,” Tara said. Ivy’s lips were turning a nasty blue colour and she was trembling. Shock maybe? Cold certainly. Tara slipped off her jacket and lay it over Ivy.

“I’m going to see if I can find a blanket,” she said, but the fingers clutched her arm even more tightly.

“Don’t leave me,” Ivy whispered. “I’m scared. I thought I’d die here all alone. Nobody would notice. Nobody would care.”

“Of course they would,” Tara said, but Ivy shook her head.

“No they wouldn’t – and who could blame them?”

“Well, Morgan noticed,” Tara replied, although she decided not to reveal just how it was that her son had come to discover that Ivy had slipped. They’d be having some stern words about that later. She looked around the room. Picture frames were crammed onto every spare surface and a pretty woman smiled out of all of them. In some she was alone; in others a handsome man joined her, and sometimes there was a gap-toothed little girl too. “I can see you’ve got family. They would care. Is the girl in the pictures your daughter? I can call them for you if you’d like?”

A tear slipped down Ivy’s papery cheek. “That’s my daughter Beth. There’s no point calling. She’s gone to Australia. They left four years ago.”

“That must be hard. It’s such a long way. Have you visited?”

Ivy made a noise that was halfway between a sob and a hiss. “I told my daughter if she left then she was dead to me. I said some awful things. I didn’t mean any of it, but she took me at my word and we haven’t spoken since. She broke my heart and I’m a proud woman. I wasn’t going to apologise. I sold our family home and moved here. They don’t even have my address.”

It seemed to Tara that being proud was quite a lonely way to be, but she was beginning to understand. “So you moved here to start afresh.”

Ivy groaned again and another spasm of pain twisted her features. “I didn’t know anyone here, and that suited me just fine. I’d rather keep myself to myself. People just let you down in the end, you see. All of them. Even the vicar’s leaving.”

“Jules is leaving?” Tara was taken aback. “Are you sure?”

“I heard Sheila telling Betty in the shop. So much for what she said about caring for the village.”

Did Danny know about this? Tara frowned. Jules had seemed very settled. What had changed? Was this Tara’s fault for coming back? Had her return been the catalyst?

Had she inadvertently brought Danny’s world crashing down for a second time?

“People just let you down,” Ivy repeated, in a whisper.

“They don’t always mean to,” Tara said thoughtfully. “Sometimes people make stupid mistakes that they know they’ll regret forever. It’s how they make amends for those mistakes that matters.”

Ivy nodded and closed her eyes again. More tears seeped from beneath their lids. “Sometimes they don’t even need to know you’ve made amends. It’s how you feel inside that matters.”

Tara’s own eyes filled. She felt pretty dreadful inside. How could she ever make amends to Danny?

“So what were these envelopes and the mince pies all about?” Tara asked.

“I wanted to do something nice for the vicar, so I was taking the mince pies to the church as a Christmas surprise. I was going to leave them there for her to find. I thought that it might make her change her mind.”

“And as for the envelopes? How come you’ve made all these beautiful cards for everyone?”

Ivy’s thin lips twitched into a faint smile. “Because your little boy was right. Being nice to people is far better, and everyone does leave you on your own if you’re unkind to them. That’s my punishment. Like your little boy said, my grandchildren have left me. Well, I can’t make my family happy but I thought I could try and make other people happier. At least I know my hamper will make Eddie Penhalligan very happy; that’s something, I suppose.”

Tara’s head was spinning. Eddie had won the Harrods hamper when the raffle was drawn. The anonymously donated Harrods hamper. She stared down at the frail old woman lying beside her and suddenly the penny dropped.

“You’re the Polwenna Bay Angel?”

Ivy tried to laugh but it turned into a horrible gargling sound. “Some angel.”

“It was you all along? You donated that money to the charities? And made the cakes?”

“My house was worth more than I could have imagined, so money’s one thing I do have – but without my family it’s meaningless. And I’ve always loved baking, but what’s the point without anyone to eat it?” Ivy said bleakly. “Anyway, it’s not nearly enough to make up for how I’ve behaved lately. It seems that even when I’m trying my hardest to change, I still manage to be a cantankerous fool sometimes. But it was a start.”

 “Sometimes,” Tara said quietly, “making a start is all we can do.”

They sat in silence for a while, each lost in thoughts about their own mistakes. By the time Sheila and the ambulance arrived, Tara had learned more from Ivy Lawrence that night than the old lady would ever know.

She would be grateful for the rest of her life.

Chapter 23

“How’s he doing?” Danny asked Tara when she came down from tucking Morgan into bed. He was sitting in the armchair by the window and although the lights from the Christmas tree bathed him in a warm glow, his face was drawn. There were deep hollows beneath his eyes. He looked tired and sad.

She smiled at him. “You can go up and see for yourself. He’s not nearly as upset as he was.”

“Poor little chap. It must have frightened the life out of him to see Ivy on the floor like that.” Danny pulled himself out of the chair, wincing slightly. “The cold’s playing havoc with my leg,” he explained, seeing her worried expression. “The sooner this snow goes away the better.”

While Danny went to kiss Morgan goodnight, Tara tidied away the supper things and lit the wood burner. Then she curled up on the sofa with a glass of wine and watched the snowflakes whirling past the window. Already a fine powder had whitened the slipway and dusted the quay. Who knew, if it continued it may well settle and then Morgan could build a snowman. She’d make a sausage casserole with mashed potatoes and dumplings for him to enjoy afterwards. Real winter food. That should cheer him up. She could invite Richard over for lunch too, as a thank you for the one he’d treated her to.

Oh, who was she kidding? She wanted to see him and, short of inventing an ailment for herself and trundling down to the surgery, this was the best excuse she could think of.

She picked up her mobile and scrolled through her list of contacts, until she found his number. As it rang she tried to slow her pulse by taking measured breaths. This was ridiculous! It was only Richard she was calling. What had got into her?

“Hello? Richard Penwarren’s mobile.”

It was Amanda Olsen; there was no mistaking that clipped cut-glass voice. Tara’s thumb hit the end-call button instantly. If the glamorous female doctor was answering Richard’s calls then it was pretty obvious what the situation was. Richard and Amanda’s lunch date clearly hadn’t ended once Tara had left.

Her disappointment was so intense that it was as if somebody had punched her in the solar plexus. Tara shook her head and then gulped back her glass of wine in one mouthful. How stupid she was being. Richard was a free agent. He could see whomever he chose. There was nothing going on between them anyway.

She was still trying to untangle her feelings when the pad of socked feet on worn wooden stairs heralded Danny’s arrival.

“Morgan’s got ten minutes’ iPad time and then lights out,” he said, sinking back into the armchair.

“Is he less worried now?” Tara asked. Morgan had been frantic to know whether Ivy would be all right. Following his own rather peculiar logic, he seemed to think it was all his fault for knocking on her window.

“He seems fine. I’ve told him he’s going to be something of a hero. The paramedics said if Ivy had been lying there all night then she might well have caught hypothermia and not made it. It’s thanks to Morgan that she’s safe and warm in the hospital.”

Tara thought about Ivy’s cold and empty house and shivered. There’d been no Christmas decorations and no sound, just the echoing of regrets and the absence of a family she’d let slip away. Was this what Tara had to look forward to as well?

“He’s been teased at school,” she told Danny, trying to push these thoughts aside. “I had no idea, but I think the others have been making him do daft things to win their approval.”

“Jules did mention that Morgan had been a bit silly during the nativity. She said she thought it was out of character,” Danny said slowly. “Don’t worry, T. I’ll have a chat with him about it all. He seems pretty happy at the school, so I don’t think it’s a major issue. There’s enough of us Tremaines here to look out for him. He’s got his family.”

And Morgan
was
a Tremaine, was the unspoken part of that sentence. The past, the biological facts, her mistakes – none of this counted now so far as Danny was concerned. All he cared about was Morgan. His son. Maybe they would be able to move forward in spite of everything?

“We can make this work, Tara,” Danny told her quietly, sensing her train of thought. “We can move on from the past and do the best for Morgan. After all, he’s what matters here. Not us. It’s too late for us, but between us we can still make sure he has the best start in life possible.”

He was right that it was too late for them, but strangely she felt at peace with this now.

“You’re a good man, Danny Tremaine,” was all she said.

He looked up and smiled his sweet, sad smile, the same smile that had once melted her heart and made her long to trace his lips with her own.

“Not good enough, I’m afraid. Anyway, you’re not so bad yourself. Not many people would have risked their necks to rescue a miserable old boot like Ivy.”

“She wasn’t always miserable, Dan,” Tara pointed out. “Nobody starts out that way.”

“True,” Danny agreed. “I guess we’re all a product of the hand that life deals us, aren’t we?”

Ouch. The implied rebuke stung.

“Maybe it’s how we play that hand that really matters?” she countered, but Danny just shrugged. His good eye was dark with sadness.

“Or maybe there’s just no point in taking part at all if the dice are loaded? There are some games you can never win.”

Outside, the Salvation Army were playing on the quay. The strains of
Silent Night
could be heard, pure and heart-achingly melancholic. She felt a sudden spike of guilt because this sadness Danny was feeling now was down to her, wasn’t it? Her return to the village had turned his life upside down. But enough of the metaphors, Tara thought. It was time they were just truthful.

“This is about Jules, isn’t it?”

There was a pause before Danny spoke. His voice was tight with misery.

“She’s leaving.”

Just those two simple words spoke volumes. Tara hadn’t heard him sound so despairing since… well, since that dreadful day when she’d said the things she’d said.

Danny had turned his face away now and was staring out at the dark harbour, his gaze fixed on the lights halfway up the side of the valley where the vicarage stood.

“Ivy mentioned it.” Tara watched him closely. His chest was rising and falling quickly and his fist was clenched. He was struggling to control his emotions, and in that moment she realised exactly why. Perhaps she’d known all along.

“You’re in love with her.” Tara wasn’t asking him. It was obvious. Danny was in love with Jules. Fact, as Morgan would say. She waited to feel the same surge of jealousy that had overwhelmed her heart when Amanda had answered Richard’s mobile, but there was nothing except curiosity.

Danny was nodding. “Yes. Yes, I am. It happened slowly and it wasn’t something I ever expected or even looked for, but Jules is the one, Tara. She knows me, the real me, and she doesn’t care that I’ve said and done some terrible things. She’s been there for me when nobody else was. She’s honest and kind and she has the biggest heart in the world. She’s my best friend. So, yes, I love her – and I’m pretty certain she feels the same way.”

Tara could guarantee this. Female intuition had told her as much weeks ago. Strange that the thought of Jules and Danny being romantically linked had been unbearable then, whereas now it made perfect sense.

“So why are you looking so sad?” she asked him, perplexed. “If it’s because of me, you needn’t worry. Our marriage is over and we both know that we can never undo the past. There’s been too much that’s gone wrong for us. I won’t stand in your way. I’ve already signed the divorce papers.”

“The divorce is why she’s leaving,” Danny said despairingly. “Jules thinks that she’s the reason why we can’t make our marriage work.”

“But that’s rubbish! Our marriage has been over for ages and it’s nothing to do with how you feel about Jules.”

“We know that, but she doesn’t. Tara, see it from Jules’s point of view. She has no idea what’s gone on between us. She thinks we had a perfect marriage before I was wounded, and that you’ve had a hard time adjusting to my injuries.”