‘I think it’s a wonderful idea.’ She turned to face me, smiling warmly. ‘Even the things that seem the most broken can be fixed with enough time, love and will. A bit like me.’ She glanced back towards the boat house once more. ‘What would it look like if you breathed new life into it?’
‘Modern. The stone would remain, tying it in with the house, but it would be wood at the back and glass at the front and sides – one-way privacy glass so guests can enjoy the beauty surrounding them but nobody else can see inside.’ I could already picture it so vividly, even down to the wood and fabrics I’d choose.
‘Imagine lying in bed and being able to see across the lake ahead of you and having a skylight to the stars above you,’ I said. ‘It’s my idea of heaven. For a bit more space, it could have a wraparound deck with solar lighting and a fire pit. All very romantic.’
‘It sounds perfect.’
‘Do you think Oliver and Rosie would be interested?’
‘With my blessing, they would be. They wanted to pull it down last year but I asked them to leave it. I knew that, when I felt well enough to come back home, part of my recovery would be to stand on the road where I was hit and to see the boat house again.’
‘You seem comfortable being here.’
‘I wasn’t the first time I came here after my breakdown. Even though the car was long gone, I could still vividly picture that moment when they pulled off the tarpaulin and how scared I was when I saw the green man.’
‘Green man?’
‘Rosie didn’t mention it? It was raining heavily the night I was struck by the car and that same type of torrential rain triggered terrible PTSD episodes. I couldn’t fully remember the accident but I often mentioned my fear of the green man. We had no idea who or what it was but it turned out to be a toy dangling from the rear-view mirror which had somehow lodged in my mind – probably the last thing I saw before I blacked out.’
‘That’s so scary, Alice. I’m so sorry you went through all that.’
‘Me too, and not just for me. Rosie was only fourteen when it happened so she had to grow up fast to take care of me and the stables. What she went through must have been incredibly upsetting and frustrating for her but she just got on with it and never once lost her patience.’
‘You’ve got a good one there,’ I said, having already seen those positive traits in Rosie in the short time I’d known her.
‘Haven’t I just? She gave up so much for me. Thank goodness the universe has rewarded her for it with Oliver back in her life and Willowdale Hall as her forever home.’
‘Have you ever wanted to live in the hall?’
Alice shook her head. ‘They’ve asked me but I love Horseshoe Cottage. It was my sanctuary when I was pregnant and my parents threw me out, and it’s remained my happy place ever since. I barely left the estate for a couple of decades but I can do that now and every time gets easier. I think that’s partly because I know I’ve got the safety of my little cottage to return to.’
Chester and Toffee had been chasing each other round the garden but they both flopped beside Alice, panting.
‘Time for a warm-up in front of the fire,’ she said, smiling at the dogs. ‘Lovely bumping into you, Mel, and do definitely share your ideas for this place with Rosie and Oliver with my blessing.’
‘Thank you. The last thing I’d ever have wanted to do was cause you any distress.’
‘I’ve made my peace with this place. The boat house didn’t cause my accident and the car didn’t either. Hubert Cranleigh made a choice to drive under the influence that day and he made a choice to cover it up. This is simply an innocent building where he hid the evidence and it doesn’t deserve to be destroyed because of someone else’s bad choices.’
Alice set off across the lawn with Chester and Toffee, leaving me outside the boat house mulling over her words.The boat house didn’t cause my accident… simply an innocent building.She’d visited the boat house to aid her recovery and I’d seen with my own eyes the warmth she felt towards the building, heard it in her voice, felt it in her excitement about my proposal. If I’d stayed, would I have eventually felt that way about The Bothy – our family home? Flynn had urged me to give it time but it hurt too much. I couldn’t concentrate on my work, I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t be there. And so I left. I left our home behind, my marriage, my life and thought that a characterless 1980s flat with no resemblance whatsoever to The Bothy would ease the pain. How wrong I’d been. The reality was that, because my rented flat was so very different, I thought about and missed my beautiful home even more.
By the time I returned to the kitchen my coffee was cold so I made a fresh mug and took it up to my bedroom. Was Flynn still living in The Bothy? He’d bought me out as part of the divorce settlement so presumably he’d either sold up or remortgaged. Another prod of guilt that I’d left him to it all on his own. I’d packed up my clothes and my office and moved out, leaving him to pack up or sell everything else. From wedding gifts to kitchenware to the artwork we’d carefully chosen together, I’d walked away from our home as though it meant nothing to me. As though he meant nothing to me. I shouldn’t have done that. I shouldn’t have done a lot of things but they’d felt right at the time. I’d been thinking a lot lately about the phraseact in haste, repent at leisureand how applicable it was for me.
Inspired by Alice’s courage to visit the places that evoked memories of a traumatic time, I had an urge to jump in my car and drive to The Bothy but what if Flynn was still living there and he saw me? I hadn’t been anywhere near prepared for seeing him in the pub on Thursday and that hadn’t changed in the space of two days.
An online search would reveal whether our house had been sold and, if it had, maybe I would drive over and take a look. Moments later, I found my answer. The Bothyhadsold but only four years ago so Flynn must have remortgaged to release enough equity to buy me out. My stomach churned at the prospect of causing him any financial difficulties on top of everything else in my haste to get closure. That meant he’d stayed there for three years after Noah died. What must that have been like?
The details online were accompanied by what had presumably been the photographs used during the sale. A picture of the outside of The Bothy was the lead photo and the site indicated it was one of twelve. We’d been the first owners of the four-bedroom barn conversion on a farm between Willowdale and Whinlatter Forest, moving in when Noah was five. Whinlatter Close – a development of three barns called The Bothy, The Byre and The Stables – had been a side project Flynn was working on for a friend, Angus, whose dad owned the farm. Angus fancied himself as a property developer and had insisted on project managing the development himself, despite having no building experience. Costs escalated and he couldn’t raise any more funds so the whole project was on the verge of collapse when Flynn and I offered him a lifeline. We’d always had a dream of building our own home but, even if we’d found some land, we were some years away from being able to afford to build what we wanted. The barn conversion could be a stepping stone to that – a property we could never have afforded fully refurbished but which we could buy as a shell from Angus, giving him an injection of capital to finish the other two barns while we financed our own refurbishment. It wasn’t going to generate Angus the financial return he’d hoped for but it was the only option he had so he’d gratefully accepted our offer.
While The Bothy wasn’t the dream home we hoped to one day build ourselves, it was a special place and the three of us had been really happy there. Flynn and I had hoped to have a brother or sister for Noah but it never happened for us despite tests showing that there was no physical reason why it shouldn’t. It was disappointing but we knew how lucky we were to have one child already when there were so many couples who wanted children and couldn’t have them, so we accepted that was how it was and embraced life as a small family.
When Noah was eight, there was the first change of ownership in the three barn conversions with an older couple moving out of The Byre next door to us and a family of four moving in. Trent was a year older than Noah and Jessie a year younger. The three of them spent stacks of time together and Flynn and I soon became good friends with their parents, Guy and Helen. We’d get together for barbeques, nights out and even had a few weekends away. When Noah was sixteen and Jessie fifteen, they realised they felt more for each other than friendship. They made such an adorable couple and I secretly hoped that their relationship would last and our two families would be united through marriage one day.
I clicked onto the next photograph. The kitchen looked exactly how I’d left it, as did the lounge, but my nerves got the better of me and I closed the laptop and sank back into my chair. I wasn’t sure I could face looking at any photos of Noah’s room. I often saw it when I closed my eyes and, try as I might to conjure up happy memories of him in there, all I could picture was Noah the day I found him. The day my world turned black.
I stared at the closed laptop and sighed heavily. What the hell was I doing? Seven years had passed since Noah died and I hadn’t moved forward at all. This was no way to live my life and the worst part about it was that I knew Noah would be furious with me for my behaviour. If I didn’t get a grip, I could end up like Alice with her past trauma trapping her for two decades. Visiting the places associated with her pain had helped her with her recovery. Could that work for me?
Feeling as though there was no time like the present, I grabbed my bag, power-walked down the hall and ran down the stairs, a fire burning in my belly to finally take control of my life.
