Chapter 40

40

He listens as Shelley fills him in on the events over Christmas. Practicalities come first: how Harry and Pam welcomed them all into their farmhouse on Christmas Eve, and supplied them with chickens for Christmas Day. How things all worked out in the end. ‘So it’s really gone okay?’ he suggests as he makes her a coffee in the kitchen. The sunshine is dazzling now, transforming the landscape into a glittery wonderland, and everyone else has taken themselves out for one final walk.

‘It really has,’ Shelley says. ‘At least, things have gone well here. At home, not so much…’ And then it all tumbles out, about Joel’s affair and how Shelley is adamant that her marriage is over. ‘It’s not just the other woman,’ she explains, surprised by how comfortable she feels, chatting over the kitchen table with this man with whom she’d barely spent any time before he rushed away to London. He really listens, she decides. And listening has never been Joel’s forte. Really, Joel is Joel’s forte, and that will never change. So they talk and talk, and a second cup of coffee is made and Shelley is grateful that it’s just the two of them for now, in the cosy warmth of Michael’s kitchen.

‘Enough about all that,’ she says abruptly, freeing her ponytail from its band. ‘What actually happened with Krissy? Or would you rather not talk about it?’

‘No, it’s fine,’ he says. ‘I’d like to actually, to make some sense of it.’ He tells Shelley then that he knew , the moment they met face to face. He explains how the hotel receptionist had called Krissy’s room, and she’d come down to where he was waiting in the bar. ‘Hi, how are you?’ There’d been a big glossy professional smile, as if he were a passenger on her flight. They’d hugged and Michael felt as if he’d staggered in from a field.

He hadn’t, of course. Although he exists in sweaters and jeans and thick insulating jackets at home, for this trip he had put on his best shirt, carefully ironed late the night before (with all those sheets, Michael has become excellent at ironing), plus smart trousers. He’d dug out shoes that were actual shoes ; not boots for walking or gardening or cleaning out the hen run.

Yet he still felt utterly wrong. And he sensed Krissy – immaculate, smelling strongly of a floral perfume – pulling back and appraising him, and he knew that she knew too.

That the man she’d spent countless hours talking to, and FaceTiming, wasn’t how she’d imagined the real-life version. Of course he was the same person: a divorced forty-seven-year-old B pink with very white tips. ‘No one who stays at Shore Cottage has nails like that,’ he says with a smile. And then their food arrived and Krissy, a little altered now by a couple of wines, was short with the waiter, barking, ‘Is that it? No sides?’ And as Michael ploughed his way through a burger and greasy yellow fries, Krissy scowled down at her risotto.

‘Is that okay?’ he asked.

‘It is if you like eating wallpaper paste,’ she retorted. Michael looks at Shelley now and pushes back his wavy hair. ‘So that’s about it. She said she was jet-lagged and we decided to call it a night.’

‘I’m so sorry,’ Shelley murmurs.

‘Oh, don’t be.’ He smiles. ‘Harry and Pam had been on at me to get out there, to sign up to the dating apps and just give it a go.’ He laughs dryly. ‘They’re worried about me frittering my life away…’

‘I wouldn’t say you’re doing that,’ Shelley says firmly.

‘Well, I shouldn’t have gone. It was mad to act so impulsively like that. I’d looked forward to getting to know you all. It sounded from Pearl as if you all needed a break, and what did I do?’

‘Abandon us!’ Shelley teases, and she senses the spark reappearing in those dark brown eyes.

‘Even though things didn’t work out, I’m still grateful to you all. I really am.’

‘You know, we actually loved it,’ Shelley says.

‘I’m glad. But I don’t just mean looking after this place. I mean…’ He pauses, colouring slightly. ‘Those chats we had while I was away. Honestly, I didn’t know what to do with myself. But you helped me to enjoy London…’

‘I’m so happy to hear that,’ Shelley says.

‘I’m just sorry you had to do the chip shop dash that first night,’ he says with a smile.

‘And I’m sorry we forgot to ask everyone to fill in the visitors’ book,’ she adds, and he laughs.

‘Don’t worry about that. Maybe they’ll be back someday, and they can do it then…’ Michael stands up now, and she sees his expression change as he seems to focus on the opening to the pantry.

‘Oh, the beaded curtain’s gone,’ he remarks. ‘I thought it was just pushed aside but?—’

‘Michael, I’m so sorry,’ Shelley blurts out. ‘It was Theo. He chopped it down. But I’m not blaming a five-year-old child. It was our fault really, we should have kept an eye?—’

‘Don’t worry. You had enough to do here,’ he says, shaking his head. ‘And actually, it was from a holiday a very long time ago…’ He smiles then, and despite the fact that her life has been upended, Shelley senses a glimmer of hope somewhere deep in her very core.

‘I’m glad you’re not upset,’ she ventures, and he hugs her reassuringly, as any friend would.

‘No, not at all,’ he says. ‘It was just an old thing. And sometimes it’s good to let things go.’