To the outside of Laurie’s cape I’d stapled pictures chopped out of Hattie’s magazine stash. A roll of bandages, a chef, a taxi, multi-purpose cleaning spray and numerous others.
‘This is what people might see on the outside. A giving, capable woman who is many things to many different people. But we don’t love you because of what you do, Laurie.’ I tried not to choke on my confession of loving someone. Hattie had no idea what a major step forward that was in my therapy. ‘It’s brilliant, but it’s not why people treasure you.’
I flipped the cape over to reveal the inside was covered in feathers, fur and other pieces of soft fabric, stuck on in squares like a patchwork quilt. ‘Occasionally, we meet the kind of person who is instantly trustworthy. Who doesn’t have to say anything, but people feel safer just being with them. The kind of person you want around on a bad day. You’re like a comfort blanket in human form, and goodness knows we all need one of those.’
Laurie was speechless, but the strength of her hug as I handed her the cape said it all.
Kalani showed me my cape.
She’d covered a square of red fabric with a diamanté shield, leaving an empty heart-shaped space in the middle.
‘Going-for-it Gal,’ she said, solemnly wrapping it around my shoulders. ‘Sophie, you have a backbone of solid diamond. The toughest element on earth. I don’t know the ins and outs of your story. But I know it took guts to forge a life for yourself after losing your family. And now, you’re summoning a whole new level of courage and exposing your heart again, to love and friendship and to definitely not chickening out of finding a home near Middlebeck.’
She flicked off one of the diamantés, the dogs pricking their ears up as it skittered across the floor. ‘You were downright standoffish when you rocked up here in that motorhome. Now look at you, snort-laughing with the Gals and snogging Gideon Langford in the bushes. Daring to let people in again makes you a superhero in my book. You inspire me to do the same.’
This was why I’d never done therapy, my quivering bones reminded me as Laurie explained Hattie’s Sunshine Gal cape, and Hattie wowed us all with her Adventurer’s Cape for Deirdre. This was why I kept my distance.Exposing my heart?The realisation that I’d allowed this to happen, one tiny diamanté flicking off my shield at a time, made my stomach churn.
How could I ever go back to my old life now?
Perhaps it was in that moment that my newly exposed heart, while blinking in the sudden glare of light, decided to stay. For a little bit longer, at least.
* * *
We cleared up the mess and trooped back to the house to open the wine and slosh out the gorgeous gals. Hattie sipped at her drink while slumped in an armchair enfolded in her cape, looking as if she’d spent the evening wrestling crocodiles, not eating Chinese and painting a map onto a piece of fabric.
Noticing her friend’s drooping eyes, Kalani nudged Laurie, who downed her cocktail and reminded Deirdre in a loud voice that some of them had to be opening up a bakery in a few hours.
It told me everything I needed to know when, after hugging Hattie goodbye, as she slipped out of the doorway, Laurie muttered to herself, ‘Menopause, my arse.’
* * *
After a night thrashing about in my super-soft duvet, wondering whether Hattie was lying to herself, or just the rest of us, the problem was solved for me.
The dogs and I cut short our walk as a sprinkling of snow had appeared overnight, and, although it wasn’t deep, it didn’t take much prancing about in the dusting for their paws to become encrusted in ice. Once we’d towelled off and I’d changed into warm, dry clothes, I went to the kitchen to get some tea. Lizzie sprang out of the office as I walked past.
‘Flapjack’s wet. Did you walk him?’
‘Oh, hi, Lizzie. Yes, I’ve been walking him with Muffin while Hattie’s busy in the studio.’
‘Then she’s nowhere.’
‘Hattie? What do you mean?’
‘She’s not anywhere in the house. I’ve checked her bedroom, the bathroom.’ She started counting on her fingers. ‘I even had a peep in yours because I was frantic. I broke her precious rules and knocked on the attic door again.’
‘Didn’t you check the studio?’
‘That was the first place I looked. And from the looks of things, if that’s where she’s been all week, she’s not been working. I cleaned in there on Monday, and nothing’s been touched. Her paintbrushes, pens and pastels are all exactly where I left them. The same sheet of paper with half an indecipherable squiggle is on her desk, and the easels are empty.’
‘Really?’
‘Has she been fobbing me off pretending to be working on the designs, while really you’ve been in the attic?’
‘No.’ Panic started creeping up my back. ‘No. She’s not been in there. She gave me the key, said I might as well have it as she’d be in the studio all week.’
‘So where is she?’
‘Could she have gone out, or to see Agnes? Perhaps she wanted to do some sketches of the snow?’
