Chapter 34

Once inside, I took a shower and slept for a few hours. When I woke the news seemed to hit me about Miles and Natasha's baby, and I found myself sobbing on the sofa for the rest of the day. How could he do that to me? It wasn't just about the baby, but also that he'd been seeing Natasha while living with me, and so soon after my father had died. And then there was Jim. How could I ruin our friendship like that? And what could I do to make amends? Saying sorry wasn't enough. I was ashamed of myself, and would rack my brains to find a way to get him to forgive me.

That evening when I was about to switch off my phone, a message flashed up from Miles.

Maddy just called. I'm so sorry you had to find out that way X

Shaking my head at his pathetic attempt to apologise, I tapped out a reply with my thumbs: ‘How could you do that to me? I can't believe…' then deleted it. Then I tried a few variations, trying not to sound too emotional, but couldn't get my words to work. Putting my phone down, I decided the best reply was no reply.

The next day, I followed my usual routine at work, but didn't see Jim. He wasn't at the Stables that morning and I missed seeing him walk around the property. He could have been working in his shed the whole time, or be resolving some ranger-related crisis, but I sensed his absence.

‘Have you seen Jim today?' I said to Helen during an afternoon coffee break.

‘He's gone to Cleveland House for a few days. There's a flu outbreak amongst their rangers.'

I knew Cleveland House was down the road, also owned by the ATP. ‘Oh, okay,' I said. So, I'd be alone on the property for a few nights. Even though me and Jim weren't getting on, it would still have been reassuring to know he was next door. I'd have to pull myself together and be brave. Jim could have told me himself, but I guessed he was still angry about Saturday night. That was fair enough.

‘If I arrange to see Margaret this week, will you come with me?' I asked.

‘Of course, just let me know when,' Helen said. ‘How did it go with Ed?'

‘Not that well, really.'

‘That's a shame. I was hoping you and Ed might get along.'

Then I told her about letting Jim down badly.

‘Oh no, poor Jim. He must be fed up.'

‘Yeah, I hope he forgives me,' I said. ‘By the way, would you mind not setting me up on any more dates, please?'

Helen pulled a face. ‘I'm sorry, it's the romantic novelist in me. I just want you to be happy, but can see I've come across as an interfering busybody.'

I laughed. Helen did seem to want the best for me. ‘Thanks, I appreciate you caring.'

‘It's no problem. As I said before, if you need to talk, I'm your woman. Oh by the way, wrap up warm tonight – there's talk of a cold snap on its way.'

‘Ah, thanks for the heads-up,' I said.

Helen caring like this gave me a warm feeling and it was nice to know she was there if I needed her.

That night, I had a bad dream about Miles and Natasha and their baby – they were all laughing at me – and woke up sweating. As I lay awake, all I could do was worry about whether Jim would forgive me. Getting my phone from the bedside table, I checked his Instagram account. He'd recently posted a carousel of the big old oak tree he was fond of through the seasons.

Zooming in on his profile photo, I studied it for a few minutes, admiring his kind face and piercing blue eyes. I missed him. When he returned, I'd do everything I could to get him to forgive me. If I bought him a present, what would I get? It would have to be environmentally friendly. Perhaps a thoughtful gesture would work better. Maybe I could make him a nice meal. Putting my phone on the bedside table, I snuggled back under the duvet, hoping to get at least a couple of hours' sleep before the alarm went off.

In the morning, I washed and dressed. With little food in the house, I'd get breakfast at the Stables. But when I opened the front door, a sea of white lay before me. Snow, and lots of it. Stuck in my daydream world while getting ready, I hadn't looked out of the window. The scene that lay before me was truly beautiful, but I needed to find a pair of boots. Would the roads be blocked? And would Gatley Hall be open for visitors? I didn't even own a pair of wellies. But I did have an old pair of fake-fur-lined boots, and it wouldn't matter if they got spoiled. I went back upstairs and changed into jeans, pulled on the boots and took my warmest polo-neck jumper out of the wardrobe. Putting on my wool coat, I opened the front door, and stepped outside.

I couldn't help smiling. Feeling an urge to record the Christmas-card scene around me, I took a few photos on my phone, in the rose garden, and of Gatley Hall, which looked so pretty with snow on the roof and windowsills. Maybe I'd do some sketches later, get out my watercolours. The path hadn't been cleared and I wondered if whoever was responsible – the gardeners, I expected – would be able to get to work to do it. The snow was inches deep, coming halfway up my boots, but when it thawed the path would be icy and slippery.

When I reached the stable yard, the green door of the Stables was firmly shut. My phone vibrated and I got it out of my pocket. A message from work.

Gatley Hall will be closed to staff, volunteers and visitors today due to the snow. Many of the surrounding roads are closed, and we'll keep you updated when we know more. In the meantime, if your role allows you to work from home, please do so, otherwise enjoy the time off, and we'll be in touch. ATP Senior Management

So, here I was, alone at Gatley Hall, and with hardly any food in the house. Hopefully the snow would thaw so things could return to normal the next day. I'd be able to log in to my laptop from the warmth of the cottage, and so I made my way back there, contemplating working from bed.

When I got back to Rose Cottage, I built a fire with the rest of Jim's logs and made a pot of coffee and two slices of toast with marmalade. Covering myself with a throw, I snuggled up on the sofa with my laptop. After a few hours of work, I made a sandwich for lunch. With little in the fridge for dinner, I considered whether Jim would mind me taking some food from his place. His key was safely hidden behind the cutlery tray in the kitchen drawer. I tapped out a quick text.

Again, I'm so sorry about Saturday night and hope you'll find a way to forgive me. Missing your company. I'm stuck here on my own with Gatley Hall being shut due to all the snow. Would you mind me borrowing some food and milk from your place? Will pay you back obvs *pleading face emoji*

I leapt when my phone buzzed immediately.

Help yourself.

Relieved to hear from him, but sad his message was curt and ending with a full stop, I replied to say thank you and took his key from the kitchen drawer. Leaving the cottage, I went next door. Although I'd been over there before, I hadn't fully appreciated how much nicer his living room was than mine. He had a plush, comfy sofa, fancy glass coffee table, a thick carpet and TV with big screen. A bookcase was packed with novels, including many classics, and biographies, as well as hardbacks about the countryside and the environment. I could have quite a nice time in his cottage while he was away. It was tempting to ask if he'd mind, but it would be a bit cheeky when he was barely speaking to me.

I went into the kitchen and opened the fridge. Half a pack of bacon, six eggs, two pints of milk, a block of Cheddar and in the salad drawer an onion, mushrooms, carrots. In the cupboard, I found tins of beans and tomatoes, dried spaghetti and a bag of large potatoes. I put everything in a tote bag, making a mental note to pay him back. As I was about to leave, it struck me that this was my chance to have a proper nose around and find out more about Jim. I went upstairs to his bedroom. The bed was made and everything was clean and tidy, apart from a pile of dirty clothes on the floor. I picked up one of his t-shirts and held it to my nose and inhaled. It smelt of him – that oaky, musky scent mixed with his hard-earned sweat. I didn't want to put it down. How long could I survive being stuck in this place without his company?

In his office, there was a printout of a book entitled A Day in the Life of a Ranger. Reading the first page, I was impressed. His command of English was good, and the words were engaging. He talked about how he'd changed his life after getting fed up with being stuck in an office all day in London and commuting by train. In the winter, he'd go to work in the dark and return in the dark and eat lunch at his desk. I'd been there too. Why hadn't he told me about this book?

Leaving everything as I'd found it, I went back to my cottage, and the silence. Snow made the place seem quieter than ever. I put Jim's food in the fridge. The fire had died down and there weren't any more logs to top it up with. Sitting on the sofa, I looked out of the window at the hills. Perhaps I'd sketch out some of those photos while having so much time on my hands.

That afternoon I worked at the kitchen table, but it started to get very cold, and I went upstairs to find another jumper. I passed the thermostat for the heating and turned it up, but half an hour later the cottage didn't seem to be any warmer. Reaching behind me, I found that the radiator was stone cold. I went round to check the other ones, and they were all the same. Was the boiler broken? At a time like this too. In the kitchen, I looked through the tiny window on the boiler. The flame had gone out. So, no heating or hot water. What was I supposed to do? There was no way a plumber would come out in the snow.

Taking out my phone, I texted Jim again.

My boiler is broken! Hope you don't mind if I keep myself warm at your place in the meantime?*smiley face emoji*

This time, there was no prompt reply. What if he had no signal? The cottage was so cold, my only option was to take a few things over to Jim's and sleep there for the night. Perhaps the snow would clear in the morning, and things could go back to normal. I'd ask Jim for the name of the plumber he had used.

After another hour there was still no reply and I threw a few of my belongings into a bag and went next door. As soon as I stepped inside, it was significantly warmer. For dinner I had a jacket potato and beans, then I lit a fire and set up camp on the sofa. I watched TV, finding the film The Holiday, and thought back to Helen and her meet-cute comment that first day when we were talking in the Stables. I pulled the throw over me and fell asleep, waking at midnight, cold again as the fire had gone out.

Would Jim mind me sleeping in his bed? I went upstairs and it did look inviting, and so I climbed in fully clothed and switched off the light and pulled the duvet over me, inhaling the smell of him.

The next morning, I woke up in Jim's bed, at first forgetting where I was. I'd had a dream about me and Jim, walking through the fields in the snow, and I found myself smiling at the image in my head. When would he be coming back? It was now Wednesday. Opening the curtains, I saw the snow hadn't cleared, and checked for any sign of communication from Jim on my phone. Nothing. I fetched my work things from next door and set myself up at his kitchen table.

A message flashed up on my phone.

Sorry for the silence. The WiFi went down and there is no phone signal here. Of course, feel free to stay at mine. Are you okay?

I replied,

Hope you don't mind that I stayed at yours last night as freezing cold at mine. Also working my way through your fridge. Am okay, thanks but a bit lonely*sad face emoji*. Although at least now warm

Glad you're warm, but sorry you're lonely

Thanks. How are you?

I'm stuck in a staff flat at Cleveland House, but we've been having boozy parties. Bit hungover tbh

I sighed. It was difficult not to envy the people who were getting to have fun with him.

That night, I slept once again in Jim's bed, and the following morning I worked at his kitchen table. The weather forecast showed low temperatures with little sign of the snow thawing. I was bored out of my mind, and the food supplies were running low. I pulled up some of the snowy photos on my phone and, after finding some sheets of paper on the printer in Jim's office and a pencil on his desk, I started to sketch the view from the cottage. The walled rose garden and the cast-iron gate on the left; trees on the right, rolling hills in front of me; all covered in snow. I was enjoying myself and could feel the act of creating something lifting my mood.

I was preparing a pot of coffee when a key turned in the front door.

‘Claire?' It was Jim's voice.

I almost ran to the front door, so happy to see him, but did my best to hide the joy from my face. When I saw him, I wanted to wrap my arms round his neck and give him a big hug.

‘Jim, how did you get here?'

He peeled a heavy-looking rucksack off his back and dropped it onto the floor. ‘I drove into the village and walked the rest of the way. I was supposed to stay at Cleveland House for a few more days but thought you might need company – and food.'

So, he'd forgiven me. Thank goodness. I wanted to show him some affection, but couldn't. Feeling awkward, I said, ‘Well, thank you, I just made coffee. Do you want some?'

‘I certainly do,' he said, throwing me a smile as he pulled up a chair at the table.