Her husband was a drunk, sickly man and neither use nor ornament. The only person who truly adored him was Violetta, blinkered by love for a father she hankered after, a man who was rarely there and showered her with guilty affection when he was. At fifteen, getting too old for cuddles and hastily grabbed consolation gifts, Rosina was beginning to see through him and his smokescreen, just like her Granny Sylvia always had.
Nearing the gates to Appleton, Carmen looked down and stroked her stomach, imagining the new life inside her. She hadn’t planned it. Her baby was the result of a loveless fumble in the dark, one she’d tried to avoid but acquiesced to in order to keep the peace. Yet despite the circumstances of conception, or how weary she was and how difficult the future might be, Carmen was invested in her unborn baby, in Rosina and Violetta and in their home. As for her marriage, all she could do was give it one more try. She wouldn’t walk away, or run. History would not repeat. She would stay and hope that life would give her a break and somehow it would all work out.
When it came, her chance to start again, Carmen wasn’t expecting it, but knowing it was now or never she grabbed it with both hands, and hadn’t looked back since.
Appleton Farm, Cheshire. Present day
Her reminiscing was interrupted by Bern stirring beside her. Turning on his side he pulled her close, kissing the top of her head. ‘Have you been lying there making more lists?’
Carmen gave him a gentle nudge. ‘I’ll have you know all my lists are ticked and up to date. I was actually thinking about the past and how we met. With our big announcement on the horizon, it’s like I need to get everything straight in my head.’
‘Ah. You’re having second thoughts and trying to work out how to tell me, is that it?’
Pushing herself away so she could assure him it was nothing of the kind, one look at his face told her he was joking and she relaxed. ‘No, you fool. We’ve been through all this a million times and I’m one million per cent positive that I want you to move in, so stop fishing for compliments.’
‘Well, what is it then? The girls?’
Carmen shook her head and brushed hair from her face. ‘The girls will be fine. They love you to bits and I’m excited to tell them and anyway, they’ve been teasing us for years about living separately so they finally get their wish.’
‘And I love them too, like daughters. I know Vi put up a bit of a wall at first but we get along fine now so I don’t think she will be a problem, do you?’
Carmen was surprised at his concern over Vi. ‘No, not at all. Yes, she idolised her dad but you’ve been part of the family since Leonora was born and she knows how much you helped us all. Seriously, Bern, there’s nothing to worry about. As they love to remind us, you’re my old-time, part-time, live-in lover who nips across the field for a cheeky leg-over then out the back door at the crack of dawn. It was their teenage joke, laughing at the worst-kept secret. So stop overthinking things. You’re worse than me.’
‘Nobody is worse than you.’
‘This is also true.’ Carmen nestled beside Bern and enjoyed the warmth of his body and she felt him relax, drifting off to sleep.
Once again her thoughts wandered. Had they wasted time? Bern was getting over losing Stacey and the shock of being separated from his daughter. Then Sebastian was killed and Carmen had enough on her plate with a new baby on the way, two daughters and a rambling home.
When finally, they both felt able to trust and love again, their friendship was the solid foundation on which they built a relationship, everything that followed was a natural progression, a combination of mutual respect and admiration, a common aim, and for a long time suppressed lust that eventually bubbled over and sealed the deal.
Bern had kept his cottage for when Sarah-Beth came to stay. And it would have been easy for Carmen to blame her mother for him not moving in. The truth was simple. They were happy just as they were. The years tumbled by, their lives fell into an easy pattern, comfortable yet not complacent, the thrill of attraction remained strong.
But when Bern’s son-in-law was made redundant and their landlord gave them notice, Carmen stepped in. ‘You know what the solution is don’t you?’ The blank look from Bern spurred her on. ‘I think you should let them have your cottage.’
At this he looked taken aback. ‘What do you mean? Actually let them have it?’
‘Yes. It will go to Sarah-Beth one day so why not let her live there now and you move in with me. That way she won’t have to worry about money or scrimping for a deposit and she can use what she’s saved to do the cottage up.’
Rather than reject the idea out of hand Bern looked more offended by Carmen’s last comment. ‘What do you mean do it up? There’s nothing wrong with my cottage.’
Carmen rolled her eyes and tried to be tactful. ‘I suppose not, if you like living in a nineties time warp with an avocado bathroom suite and wall-to-wall Anaglypta.’ Taking his hands in hers, ignoring his offended expression, she tried to make him see sense without coming over as desperate, or bossy, or suggesting Sarah-Beth might need a skip. ‘Look, what I’m trying to say is that we’ve spent years making excuses why we shouldn’t move in together so maybe this is a damn good reason why we should. I think it’s time, don’t you?’
It hadn’t taken long for him to agree, and Sarah-Beth had cried tears of relief and joy when he told her the news. All that was left was to tell Carmen’s three over Sunday lunch and then Bern would be moving in permanently. No more nipping across the fields.
Carmen knew in her heart it was the right thing to do. Her grand plan was coming together, another tick in the box. It was the final piece in the puzzle and would be a perfect start to Christmas, having Bern there for good.
The crackle of the fire in the grate lulled her into sleep. Her subconscious mind drifted, thoughts floating into the land of dreams, nudging old ghosts and buried memories, taking her back to the past. Back to Tilbury and the worst Christmas ever.
11
Carmen
Tilbury, London
1969
Ihate this dream. I need to wake up. Stop the music. I want to get off.
