You Only Live Once
YOU ONLY LIVE ONCE
MAXINE MORREY
CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
More from Maxine Morrey
About the Author
About Boldwood Books
For Mum
Love you. Miss you. Always.
1
‘So obviously I said no problem.’
‘Absolutely not!’ I said at exactly the same time.
‘Huh?’ My brother took a large swig of the revoltingly strong, expensive coffee I got in for his visits and nabbed another biscuit from the jar.
‘I said absolutely not.’
‘But I’ve already told him now.’
‘Then you’ll just have to untell him.’ I glanced out of the open bi-fold doors that formed one entire wall of my kitchen-diner, over to where my nephew and niece were playing in the garden. ‘Umm. Should he be doing that?’
My brother looked round, rolled his eyes and walked to the threshold. ‘Freddy! What have I told you about hanging your sister upside down? Her tooth will come out when it’s ready, not by you trying to shake it out.’ My nephew and niece looked over at us, from their opposite perspectives. A large sigh escaped from Freddy as he laid his sister on the ground. She hauled herself up, staggered once or twice as though she’d just left a good night at the pub and then ran off to play on the swing.
‘Where was I?’
‘Uninviting your friend to my house.’
‘He’s your friend too.’
I gave Felix a look.
‘Well, you know him, at least.’
‘I know a lot of people but that doesn’t mean I’m about to invite them to stay at my house for an indefinite length of time!’
‘It’s not indefinite.’
‘OK, then,’ I said, hand on hip as my brother fished around in the bottom of his mug for an errant bit of biscuit, following some mismanaged dunking. ‘How long would he be staying for?’
‘Just until he gets himself set back up over here.’
‘Which will take how long?’
‘I don’t know exactly.’
‘Would you say then that, at present, the length of time it will take for your friend to restart a business he abandoned years ago is of an undetermined time?’
‘Possibly.’
‘Which would mean his stay here would be for an unstated duration.’
‘I’m sure it wouldn’t be long. I mean, no offence, Lils, but you’re hardly the life and soul of the party, so I’m sure he’d want to get out and set up in his own place as soon as possible.’
‘Then that works out marvellously.’
‘It does?’
‘Yes. As you quite rightly state, my company would be far below the entertainment level that Jack Coulsdon-Hart is used to courting and, as you say, he would want to set up his own accommodation swiftly. In which case, it’s probably best if we skip the whole “he can stay here” step entirely and just go straight to the bit where he buys or rents his own place. Sound good? Great. I’m glad that’s all settled. Are you done with that?’ I grabbed the empty cup and popped it in the dishwasher before sweeping biscuit detritus from the counter with the side of my hand.
Felix looked at his watch then bellowed out into the garden for the kids to come in as it was time to go home.
‘They can stay if they want.’
‘They can, but poor, homeless Jack can’t? That’s not very charitable of you.’
I pulled a face. ‘It’s not the same thing and you know it. Family is different. Also, he’s very far from poor.’
‘You know he never touches his family’s money. As for the rest, Jack is like family to me. He’s the children’s godfather, for a start.’
‘I know that, but he’s not family to me.’
‘Kids. Home. Now!’ he yelled again when no small people appeared in response to the first holler.
‘Good job my nearest neighbours are sheep.’
Felix did a loud ‘baaaaaa’ and got a few replies in return. ‘Seriously? I have more luck getting sheep to take notice of me than my own offspring.’
‘You don’t know what the sheep said. It might have been “bugger off” for all you know.’
‘Always possible. Look, if you find my – there you are! I thought you’d disappeared into the jungle undergrowth for good!’ my brother said, ruffling Freddy’s hair and picking a twig from his daughter’s.
‘It’s not that bad out there!’ I said, feeling somewhat forced to defend my garden.
‘Right.’
‘It’s not!’ I protested. ‘It’s natural. I’m… rewilding. It’s all the rage, you know.’
Felix sniffed the air. ‘I guess they must be muck spreading at one of those farms nearby.’ His gaze slid from the garden to me, one brow slightly quirked.
Freddy gave several sniffs, each one bigger than the last. ‘I can’t smell anything.’
‘Maybe the wind changed, mate. Come on, let’s get you home and in the bath. Both of you look like you could audition for Lord of the Flies.’
‘What’s that?’
‘A book that you’re too young to read just now,’ I stated, wrangling my nephew into a coat that had been discarded as he worked up a head of steam charging around the garden.
‘Well, don’t say that!’ my brother huffed. ‘Now he’ll definitely want to read it.’
‘Are there fairies in it?’ Ruby asked.
‘No, sweetheart. Definitely no fairies.’
‘Good!’ Freddy said.
‘It’s not a book for your age group, darling.’
‘But I’m good at reading. My teacher said so, didn’t she, Daddy?’
‘She did, but Auntie Lily is right. This isn’t a children’s book. When you’re older, you can read it and make your own decision as to whether you like it.’
Freddy stuck his lip out.
I crouched down to zip up his coat. ‘If you put that lip away, next time you come round, we could have a look on the local bookshop’s website and see if there are any new books you might like instead. How does that sound?’
Freddy sucked his lip back in.
‘Go and put your shoes on, please. I’ll be there in a minute.’ The children, having abandoned the wellies I kept for them to wear in the garden, zoomed through to the hallway.
‘Alternatively, you could always take them to the actual bookshop,’ said Felix.
‘Could we please not have this conversation again today?’
‘You never want to have this conversation.’
‘Exactly. So perhaps that’s a clue that I don’t want to talk about it.’
‘You can’t hide away in here forever, you know.’
‘I know. I do go out.’
‘Barely. And only when you’ve run out of milk.’
‘That still counts as out.’
‘No, Lils. It doesn’t. Unfortunately, I don’t have time to get into this now. I’ve got to get these two home before Poppy thinks we’ve done a runner.’
‘Give her a hug from me.’
‘Will do, but you can give her one yourself on Saturday. Don’t forget it’s takeaway night. Poppy’s mum and dad are having the kids this weekend.’
‘So why don’t you go out together? Paint the town red.’
‘We’re doing that Friday night and, since having kids, our stamina for nights out is very limited. Flopping over here for takeaway will be about the limit by then.’
‘OK. So long as you’re sure.’
‘Yep. Any preference on food?’
‘Nope. Just order what you like, but it’s my treat.’
‘Not this time. You always sneak a way to pay. This time I’m definitely paying.’
‘Fine. OK. Then I’d like lobster thermidor, with caviar to start.’ I paused. ‘I’ll have to think about pudding.’
‘Funny. You do know that I know you can’t stand caviar, don’t you? Neither have I forgotten that the last time you had lobster, it paid a very hasty return visit.’
‘You can be terribly annoying at times, you know that too, don’t you?’
‘I’m your brother. It’s in the contract.’
‘Go home, before your wife has time to realise she’s been duped and there are far better options than you out there.’
Felix grinned and kissed me on the cheek. ‘See ya.’
‘Bye, Auntie Lily!’ the kids chorused as Felix got to the front door.
‘Umm, excuse me, I do believe some people have forgotten something.’
With that, both the children ran at me and flung their arms around me, laughing as they did so. ‘Love you!’
I bent down to them, peppering each of their heads with lots of little kisses. ‘I love you too. See you soon.’
I waited at the door until the car turned out of sight halfway down the driveway, then closed the front door, trying not to think about the silence that suddenly surrounded me once more.
I knew that moving out of the city had been the right decision after everything that happened, and I still loved this place. I had from the moment I saw it. From outside, it looked wonderfully and authentically Georgian, built by an architect who adored the style as a pet project for a client who had given him free rein. Except that when it came to it, the client decided that wasn’t what he was after at all and that in fact he wanted not just the latest technology inside, but also a modern-looking exterior to reflect it. The house, consequently, never lived in, went on the market the day I decided to move from the city. In contrast to the original client, I loved the idea that all the modern amenities and energy efficient technology could be wrapped up in such an authentically period-accurate house. I didn’t even look at anything else. This had felt right the moment I stepped in. I’d got a sense of peace and security and the large grounds gave me the privacy I craved.
Felix and Poppy, I knew, had their reservations but, on the other hand, it was far closer to them and the children and shamelessly, I used this excuse to talk them round. Not that they would have stopped me buying it. I’d already paid the deposit by the time I told them, anyway, but it did go some way to easing their anxieties that I’d be rattling around in a big house on my own and that it was a lot to look after. I’d promised I’d get a cleaner and a gardener to help me and they appeared satisfied with that.
Obviously, neither of those things happened. I’d decided that perhaps this would be a good time to take up gardening myself. All sorts of studies had been done showing both the physical and mental benefits of such a pastime and I did try. I just literally had no idea what I was doing. Did I cut that down? Was this dead or was it supposed to look like that? When Poppy gently advised me that I’d just ripped out a plant that likely cost about a thousand pounds and that it wasn’t dead, just going into dormancy for the winter, I gave up. Which is why the once beautifully landscaped gardens were now more akin to the rewilding project I’d attempted to get my brother to buy into – unsuccessfully. It really was kind of a mess. I’d have to have another go at tackling it. Swot up on some Gardener’s World episodes and do my best to channel Monty as I ventured forth with my secateurs. I looked again out at the wilderness – a machete might be more appropriate – but where to even start?
I went back through to the bright and airy kitchen that opened out onto the garden and the fields beyond. One was a paddock that belonged to the property but that was home to two horses owned by someone in the village. Thankfully, Felix had been here when they came asking if there was any chance of using the paddock for stabling. I’d wangled him into dealing with it all apart from setting the price which I’d stipulated as a minimum fee. During the chat, from which I’d hidden myself in the study with the excuse that I was on a deadline (I was always on a deadline, so that day was really no different, but it was a good enough reason to exclude myself from the proceedings), I’d overheard that the lady used the horses for therapy work with disabled children. I didn’t need the extra money and the paddock was just sitting there empty anyway, so it made sense to lease it to someone who could make good use of it. The fact that that someone was giving help and bringing joy to children and their families for whom life was a constant struggle made it a no-brainer decision.
I’d wanted to lease it for free but when I proposed this to my solicitor, he went into a long spiel about… the truth is, I’m not sure what he said. After the first few sentences of legalese, my brain switched off and only flicked back on again when I realised he’d stopped talking. I asked him what the absolute minimum was I could charge and still satisfy his terms and he grudgingly gave me one, which I then requested he draw up a contract for. Ideally, I’d have just done everything without the need for anyone else being involved but, as Felix had pointed out, that land was part of my home and it made sense to have terms of use laid out clearly in order to avoid any problems in the future. He was right. The last thing I wanted was confrontation and mess. Felix did point out that it had cost me more to get the contract drawn up than I was charging her for a year’s rent, but I reminded him about the children and he’d shrugged, said, ‘Fair enough,’ and let it go.
In my one flash of gardening inspiration a few years ago, Poppy and I had turned the other field into a wildflower meadow. We’d done it together as a family, clearing the grass and planting the seed. Early signs were encouraging, if a little sparse, but now, three years on, it was well established, and in the summer became a packed riot of clashing colours humming and buzzing with a thriving population of insects and pollinators. The kids absolutely loved it and I found it a source of calm when I took a walk around, just resting against the five-bar gate that separated it from the edge of the garden, surrounded by nature and able to put everything else out of sight and mind.
I’d continued to live in our London flat for over a year following the accident that killed my husband but, instead of getting easier, every day seemed to bring with it another memory of our time together there, constantly ripping open a wound that was already struggling to heal. My brother and his wife had been absolute rocks, visiting and staying with me even when I didn’t want anyone around. They refused to leave me alone for long, which was probably just as well. What I thought I wanted and what I actually needed had been, I realised now, two very different things.
Friends initially had called and sent cards but when they visited, or I forced myself to accept invitations, I could feel their discomfort as strongly as my own. They trod on eggshells, being sure not to mention anything they thought might cause upset. They didn’t know how to ‘be’ with me when all I’d really wanted was some sense of normality, whatever that was. They meant well, but none of us enjoyed the evenings, and I think they were relieved when I began to decline the invitations, and I was certainly relieved when they ceased to ask.
I sat gazing out in the garden. The first hints of early spring were tentatively showing themselves, as crocuses pushed up through the grass, replacing the snowdrops that had burst through earlier in the year. There was something reliable about a garden and nature in general. It was one of the many things that had attracted me to this place, even though I knew I had done a poor job of looking after its beautiful grounds. Whatever else went on in life, trees burst into leaf, daffodils danced in great swathes, snowdrops peeped their nodding heads above the ground to signal the start of it all. Even when your life had been shattered, nature’s cycle continued and, at a time I found it hard to discern comfort in anything, I did find some sort of comfort in that.
2
Having overstuffed ourselves with takeaway, Felix, Poppy and I sprawled on the sofas in the lounge while my brother surfed through streaming channels to try to find a film we all wanted to watch. Poppy and I had already vetoed several versions of a zombie apocalypse and umpteen superhero incarnations. Knowing there were piles of brilliant screenplays sat out there, withering in slush piles while the movie industry remade the same old thing, was one of the many reasons I’d declared I didn’t plan to have a TV when I moved in. The look of horror on my brother’s face meant that the decision was soon reversed, and I gave him carte blanche to order whatever he thought was right for the room, after of course specifying I was looking for a television and not a cinema screen.