Dead of Winter, page 2
It had been with his support and encouragement, pointing out that she already had the skillset, that she had branched out on her own. It had been scary at first, but now Lola knew it was the best decision she had ever made.
‘Are you still in the police?’ she asked now, both out of politeness, as, so far, he had been asking all the questions, but also with a healthy dose of curiosity.
Quinn nodded. ‘I passed my sergeant’s exam last year.’
‘Really? That’s brilliant.’ Lola was genuinely pleased for him. ‘So, what are you doing in Ely today? Are you there with work?’
‘No. I’m getting a connecting train to Cambridge. Chloe and Darren live there now. They’re away over Christmas, so I’m heading down to see them before they go.’
‘Please say hi to Chloe from me. Are they going anywhere nice?’
Chloe was Quinn’s younger sister and Lola had always been fond of her, though she personally thought she could do better for herself than Darren, who was a bit of a sexist pig. She knew Quinn wasn’t a fan either.
She watched him hesitate now, his gaze quickly flicking to the empty seat beside her.
‘Shall I grab my bag and come sit up here?’ he suggested, instead of answering her question. ‘It will be easier to talk.’
Alarm must have crossed Lola’s face, because he backtracked quickly.
‘Though you were reading. I don’t want to disturb you.’
He wasn’t. And yes, she had initially panicked when she had first recognised him, but this wasn’t really that difficult, was it? They were being civil with each other. Friendly even. It was healthy putting the past behind them.
‘No, I would like the company,’ she said, offering him the brightest smile she could muster and shuffling across into the window seat to show she meant it.
Moments later, Quinn was pushing his duffel bag into the overhead rack beside her own luggage and dropping down into the seat beside her.
This close, the familiar scent of his aftershave wove its way into her senses and the warmth of his arm against hers stirred memories of a time that she often wished she could revisit.
Before things had turned bad. Before all of the pain.
He was the only man she had ever loved. And she realised now that, despite everything, she still loved him.
But the chance had passed. They had both moved on. No doubt Quinn was in a relationship with someone else. Over the course of the next couple of hours, she would likely find out, and the door to whatever it was she was feeling right now – she didn’t want to be so bold as to call it hope – would firmly be shut.
That would be for the best.
Showing they could be on good terms was one thing, but too much had happened, and it had broken what they had once been. The unborn child they had lost sounding a death knell on their relationship.
It was too late to go back.
3
You have a sister.
I remember reading the words in the email from the adoption agency and completely stilling as I focused on the screen. My first thought was, this is unexpected, but then irritation stirred, quickly morphing into anger.
I knew all about her. She was the bastard child who had been given away, the dirty secret of her mother’s illicit affair that had almost torn the family apart. But why the hell was she making contact now? The tears I wanted to cry at the news were out of frustration, not joy. After everything that had happened, after what we have done, what were the chances of her reaching out?
Lola Henderson needs to go away, and I hoped that by ignoring the adoption agency, she would take the hint, but instead she popped up on Facebook Messenger a week later, like some unhinged stalker. Bile had roiled in the pit of my stomach when the alert pinged, telling me she had sent a message.
I didn’t respond at first, but she was persistent, and although I didn’t want to converse with her, I eventually realised that if I wanted her to leave us alone, I had no choice but to reply.
I told her politely to bugger off, hoping that would be the end of it. But no, she has just messaged again. Apparently, she is near Norfolk and she wants to meet up.
The very idea has me breaking out in a sweat.
Can’t the stupid woman take a hint?
I’m tempted to ignore her again, but what if she has our address? I don’t want her turning up here uninvited.
Unsure what to do, I spend some time googling her. I had briefly looked her up after the agency got in contact, so I know she lives in Manchester, but now I am more thorough in my search.
She has a website, Click and Bloom, offering a number of digital services from website building to online marketing, and according to her bio, she graduated from Lincoln University in 2010. That puts her – if my calculations are correct – at around thirty-seven years old. The age would be correct. And her job suggests she is techie. She will be able to find us if she wants to.
Her Instagram and Facebook accounts reveal that she has cats and a wide circle of friends, and that she likes music festivals, judging from the number of pictures in which she has been tagged. One close-up shot leaves me in no doubt that she’s a Whitlock. The wide almond-shaped eyes, angular jawline and high cheekbones are a giveaway. Different hair colour, though. Hers is more of an ash-brown. It’s the least remarkable thing about her.
There is only one other Henderson she is linked to and that is Kelly Henderson. A quick glance at her Facebook profile soon tells me Kelly is Lola’s adoptive mother and, judging from a couple of sympathetic comments posted on her wall, she has recently passed away. This probably explains why Lola is suddenly so determined to reach out.
It worries me that, now she is nearby, she might try to show up on the doorstep, and as I close my iPad, I get the inkling of an idea, wondering if there is perhaps a way to satisfy her curiosity.
She has asked for one meeting, a chance to ask questions and give her closure.
Can I give her that?
If so, she will be out of our hair for good.
Not a coffee shop, though. I can explain it’s not easy with accessibility issues, especially in bad weather. It’s best if she comes to the house.
There are a lot of secrets here at Midwinter Manor. It is a big place, perhaps dauntingly so to those unfamiliar with it, with its maze of hallways, large rooms and dark corners.
People probably think we were mad to move to a house built in the late 1700s, so secluded from everywhere. But it’s just how I like it. There is a stillness to the place, even as it creaks and echoes, and a grandeur too. Although we have modernised certain things, the history remains in the wide, open fireplaces, so cosy when lit in the winter, the delicately carved ceiling roses and the wood-panelled walls. If they could talk – and I often believe they do whisper to us – they would say they have seen things, but that the house has stood for centuries and we are safe here, hidden away from prying eyes.
Lola’s visit will be brief. I will make sure of it.
But am I getting carried away, thinking this is a good idea, when, in truth, it is ruining my build-up to Christmas. It’s a holiday I always embrace and several of the downstairs rooms are decked out with trees and garlands, while a sumptuous feast awaits us on Christmas Day.
I am a hypocrite, because I’m not particularly religious, but then I suppose that is for the best, given our sins.
Deciding to give Lola’s visit some more thought, I sit back in my chair and try to roll the tension out of my shoulders, swapping my iPad for the cup of coffee sitting on the table. As I take a sip, realising I’ve left it too long and the water is now lukewarm, I am tempted to switch it for something stronger, to calm my nerves.
I have worked so hard for everything we have and I will do everything necessary to make sure we keep it.
4
Lola and Quinn hadn’t planned for a baby. They had been dating for a little over a year and had moved in together just a month earlier. When Lola had first fallen pregnant, both of them had been in shock, though it had quickly turned to pleasant surprise, and as they became used to the idea, they found themselves looking forward to impending parenthood.
They could make it work. Lola’s business was still in its infancy, but at least she had the flexibility of working from home, and Quinn did shifts, which meant he would be able to take over on his days off, so she could catch up on her accounts. Their parents, who were excited about a grandchild, had also offered to help.
At thirty-six weeks, they were fully prepared, the spare bedroom in their rented flat kitted out with a cot and everything they were going to need for their new son or daughter.
At thirty-seven weeks, Lola became aware that the baby had stopped kicking. Three days later, after an ultrasound had revealed the baby’s heart was no longer beating, she had endured an induced labour, delivering their stillborn son.
Quinn had cried that day as he’d held the baby boy they had named Milo, but Lola – numb with shock – hadn’t been able to shed a single tear, and as she went through the motions over the coming weeks – the sympathy visits, the funeral, and the follow-up hospital appointments – she had felt detached from her own body, like an interloper watching from afar and reacting on autopilot. She had been wracked with guilt at her reaction, knowing it wasn’t normal for a grieving mother.
Counselling had been provided, but hadn’t helped, and over the following months, she was aware that Quinn was growing more and more frustrated with her. He had tried his best to pick up the pieces of their life to move them forward, but despite wanting that too, Lola had felt frozen in time, and although she was aware she was doing it and wanted to stop, she had gradually closed him out.
Seven months after Milo’s death, Quinn had moved out, realising they could no longer make their relationship work, and it was two weeks later, while dismantling the nursery – a room that had been left closed – determined to have a fresh start, that Lola had finally broken down. The well of despair deep inside of her emptying as she finally came to terms with what had happened.
Her mother hadn’t been great during that time. Kelly Henderson was another one who wasn’t good at expressing her emotions, and her stance was to blame Quinn for everything. It was easier that way.
For a while, Lola had been horribly alone, struggling to cope with everything that had happened, while trying to keep on top of her business. Eventually, the bills for the flat had become too much for her to deal with and she had been forced to move back home with her mother.
It had taken her a long time, but finally Lola had managed to put the broken pieces back together as best as she could, and sitting here now with Quinn, it felt like the pair of them had finally come full circle.
She had never stopped loving him and suspected he would always be the one, but even after she had tried to fix herself, she couldn’t bring herself to reach out.
After Quinn had left, he had severed contact. Or so she had believed.
It wasn’t until her mother was on her deathbed that she had revealed he had stayed in touch, not wanting to contact Lola directly, aware it might upset her, but asking after her for at least a year following their break-up.
Kelly Henderson had never approved of their relationship and Lola had long suspected it was because her own husband had left her. Kelly was distrustful of men, expecting them all to be the same, and she had always been convinced Quinn would eventually let her daughter down.
Whether it was guilt, or perhaps worry that she might be punished in the afterlife, she had finally admitted the truth, and Lola had been torn between anger and frustration. It was too little, too late, but how could she stay mad at her mum when there was so little time left? As for Quinn, it felt too late. So much time had passed.
When she had first seen him on the train, she had been embarrassed and anxious, and the thought of being trapped with him for the next few hours had made her skin prickle. Now she understood that this forced proximity was a good thing. The pair of them were in an environment with no other distractions and finally they had no option but to talk. Something they should have perhaps done a long time ago. And as they did – the familiarity of him putting her at ease and making her realise just how much she had missed him – she began to wonder if this was fate.
Or perhaps divine intervention?
That was foolish Lola’s pattern of thought.
Serious, logical Lola knew it was a ridiculous notion. That this was nothing more than coincidence, and despite the fact Quinn’s ring finger was bare – she had finally given in to the temptation to look – it didn’t mean there wasn’t a girlfriend waiting for him back in Stockport.
Still, she had to know for sure.
‘So, what are your plans for Christmas?’ she finally dared to ask, hoping he didn’t pick up in the slight tremor in her tone.
It bothered her that his answer mattered so much. She had never been a woman who had simpered after men, and in the before, hers and Quinn’s relationship had been on a very even keel.
‘I’m going over to Mum and Dad’s. Kyle and Josie will be there, so it will just be the six of us.’
‘Six?’
Kyle was Quinn’s older brother, and Josie his wife. But who was the sixth?
Lola drew in a steadying breath, waiting for the answer.
‘Elsie.’ Quinn smiled. ‘I forgot you haven’t met her. Josie fell pregnant the autumn after…’ He fell quiet, realising the implications of what he was saying.
That Kyle and Josie had been lucky.
Although her heart hitched, Lola reminded herself she was in a better place now.
Quinn didn’t know that, though, and although her smile wavered, she reached for his hand, squeezing in reassurance, the sudden longing for what they had once had almost as strong as the love she had for the child they had lost.
When his warm fingers locked around hers, so comforting as they stirred memories warm and deep, she pushed herself to ask the question.
‘So you’re going alone?’
She tried to phrase it as casually as possible.
Whether Quinn knew what she was hinting towards or not, he didn’t say. He nodded. ‘Yeah, I am.’ But then he angled his head, looking at her, dark eyes locking with hers, and adding, ‘There’s no one else, Lola.’
As the train rumbled into the station, it offered a view of the marina on the river, the low winter sun sparkling across the water, and Lola could see the cathedral in the distance.
She had never been to Ely before and knew only that it was one of the smallest cities in England. Now she could also see how pretty it was. Not that she was likely to have any time to explore.
‘Have dinner with me tomorrow night?’
Quinn asked the question just after they disembarked the train. They were standing on the platform about to part ways, as a bitterly cold wind howled around them – Lola ready to head to her hotel, while Quinn would shortly be catching his connecting train to Cambridge.
When she stared at him, surprised he was asking, a rush of words tumbled out as he tried to persuade her.
‘We haven’t seen each other in four years. I know we’ve just been sat on the train together, but there’s still more to say. I’m not ready to say goodbye again. Not yet.’
Neither was Lola, but she had to be pragmatic.
‘I thought you were travelling back up north in the morning?’ she reminded him. ‘I’m stuck here until Christmas Eve.’
‘I can change my train, get a room in Ely for the night.’
He looked hopeful and Lola considered her schedule. Was there a way she could make this work?
She would be in a meeting with Rich Bradford for most of tomorrow, then her plan had been to chill in her hotel, maybe order room service. That was unless she heard from Daniel Whitlock. She wouldn’t have time to see him on the Wednesday, as she had more meetings scheduled with Rich that morning and a late-afternoon train booked to take her back to Manchester. Daniel probably had plans anyway, what with it being Christmas. Did he have a family? she wondered. She knew he was married, but did he have kids?
Could he have kids?
He was paraplegic and she didn’t know how that might affect things for him.
Anyway, he might even be away. Which would explain why she hadn’t heard back from him.
She had checked her phone as the train had pulled into the station, her heart sinking when she saw her message hadn’t even been read, and she was already resigning herself to the fact she was unlikely to hear back from him.
That did mean she was potentially free for dinner with Quinn. And he was right. There was still more to say.
‘Can I say a tentative yes?’ she asked, wishing she could give him a firm one. ‘I don’t want to commit in case I hear from my brother.’
‘Of course,’ Quinn said, understanding.
Lola had told him about Daniel during their train journey. Quinn had known since early on in their relationship that Kelly Henderson had been Lola’s adoptive mother, and he understood how important this was to her.
‘How about we keep in touch and you let me know what your plans are tomorrow?’ he suggested. ‘You still have the same number, right?’
‘Yes, and you?’
He nodded and leant forward to give her a brief hug and an affectionate peck on the cheek. The touch and the scent of him was so familiar, so inviting, and for a moment Lola just wanted to hold on.
But then they were parting company and he was giving her a crooked smile.
‘Stay safe, Lola.’
It was a phrase he had often used when they were together. Any occasion really when he wasn’t going to be around should she need him.
She had always found it amusing – a little old-fashioned, even – sometimes reminding him she could take care of herself, but more often or not, doing as she did now: smirking at him and giving a salute, before she turned and walked away.
She was about to spend two days in an office with a man who set her teeth on edge, even though he paid well. Quinn had nothing to worry about.
