‘Ah, yes.’ A wry smile. ‘Do I have your blessing? It would mean everything to me.’
‘If that’s what you really want to do, then you should go.’ How can I hold him back?
‘I’ll return to England as often as I can.’
‘I’ll make sure you do,’ I say.’ But if he hardly managed to visit from Birmingham, in reality how often will that be? ‘When will you go?’
‘Straight after Christmas. They start filming imminently. That’s if we get the paperwork sorted. It’s not a done deal quite yet. Until there’s ink on a contract, these things can slip through your fingers.’
That’s how I feel too. It seems as if Shelby is slipping through my fingers. I don’t think I can keep him here on the farm. It’s my love, not his.
Chapter Seventy
We walk back to the caravan. ‘Shall I tell Lucas?’ Shelby asks.
‘It’s probably better if I do,’ I say. ‘It’s been a long day. Now really isn’t the best time.’
I can’t cope with any more emotion. All I need is to put my feet up.
I feed the dogs in the yard and decided to banish them for the night. They’ll be fine snuggled up in the barn. Not quite as cosy as my bedroom, but it won’t hurt them for once. Reluctantly, I turn off the Christmas tree lights. The tree looks so beautiful that I can’t bear for it to fall into darkness. I click the switch. Until tomorrow.
However, I do leave the lights on that Lucas has strung around the caravan which is still a bright little spot. I like these so much I might leave them on all year round.
We phone for a takeaway and, eventually, it arrives. Lucas joins us, but it’s a subdued affair. I don’t ask in front of Shelby, but I’m pretty certain that he hasn’t been able to speak to Aurora. He’d be a lot cheerier if he had. It was a shame she missed his performance today. I love to hear Lucas’s poems and it’s a rare occasion when he deigns to read them in public.
After dinner, Lucas beats a hasty retreat to his bedroom. Shelby and I cuddle up on the sofa. The windows are steamed up and I close the curtains, shutting out the night. I should get a little fake tree to put up in here as it’s not very festive yet and Christmas is hurtling towards us.
I rest my head on Shelby’s shoulder, savouring the short time I have him to myself. He’s due back in Birmingham in the morning but, for tonight, he’s mine.
‘What will you do with the manor while you’re away?’ I ask. ‘I know it’s been on your mind.’
‘I might rent it out,’ he says. ‘But I’m not that keen on doing so. I don’t like it standing empty, though.’
‘I have a possible solution to that,’ I venture. ‘One of our students is living in a terrible situation. Her father beats her mum. It’s awful. They were still here when you arrived.’
‘I noticed the woman with the black eye,’ Shelby says. ‘I meant to ask.’
‘It’s a regular occurrence and it seems to be getting worse. I’ve urged them to leave but the mother, Jess, says they’ve nowhere to go. I could try to get them into a refuge, but that’s not ideal over Christmas. I was wondering if they could move into the manor cottage for the time being. Until they get sorted.’
‘The manor is standing empty too. They could go there.’
‘I don’t think they’d like that. It’s not very well . . . homely.’
‘Is that why you don’t like it?’
‘It a beautiful house,’ I say, honestly. ‘But it’s not a home. I think they’d be happier with somewhere smaller and cosier. I’m sure they’d feel safe in the cottage.’ I like the idea that there are security gates, CCTV cameras. That would surely keep out any unwanted or unexpected visitors.
‘I have no problem with that,’ Shelby says. ‘They’re welcome to stay there as long as they need to.’
‘Thank you.’ I kiss his cheek. ‘You’re a good man.’
‘I fall way short,’ he says. ‘But I do try.’
‘I’ll tell her tomorrow. It’s a big step, but I bet they’ll be relieved that there’s a way out for them.’
‘No one should have to live in fear.’
‘No,’ I agree.
‘Lucas seemed to be getting on very well with the daughter. Is his girlfriend – what was her name? – still on the scene?’ ‘Very much so,’ I say.
‘She seemed a bit old for him.’
What can I say? I wholeheartedly agree, but it seems as if Aurora will be in our lives like it or not. ‘Lucas is besotted.’
‘Young love,’ Shelby muses.
I steer him onto safer ground and we talk about the continuing dramas in Pantoland, until my eyes start to roll.
‘To bed,’ Shelby says and I’m so tired that I don’t even do my usual night-time round of the animals before we hit the sack for the night.
We lie in bed and he takes me in his arms.
‘Just hold me for tonight.’ I don’t want to make love. I’m tired, emotional and, with the baby, it would seem like a terrible intrusion. Once he’s got his contract finalised, then I’ll tell him. Hopefully, we can spend some quality time together over Christmas and he’ll have time to get used to the idea.
Shelby falls asleep almost instantly, but I lie awake. I’m in the shelter of his embrace, but I feel there’s a gulf between us. Our lives are becoming more like one of the storylines in his soap opera. Life might have been considerably lonelier before he arrived but, in truth, it was a lot more straightforward. I wonder how much I know the real man behind the façade. Something that Lucas frequently points out is that it’s all an act. Shelby has been hiding his Hollywood negotiations from me and I’m hiding the fact that I’m pregnant. I think of Lucas’s poem Secrets ’n’ Lies – one of the first I knew he’d written. I guess that we all have secrets and lies. Putting my hands on my belly, I feel the secret of the life that I’m carrying there. And wonder just how long I can keep it that way.
Chapter Seventy-One
In the morning, Shelby leaves early. We are quiet and sad with each other. He gives me the keys to the cottage at Homewood Manor, so that I can offer it to Penny’s mum. I kiss him as he gets into his car and wave at the gate as he drives away, trying to push away the overwhelming sorrow that I feel. This should be a happy time. It’s Christmas and I’m having a baby. I should be basking in a glow that’s currently eluding me. Perhaps because I need him more than ever, the separation seems all the harder. I don’t know. New territory for me.
Routine, I think, is the way forward. So, as I do every day, I see to the animals, walk the dogs and try to bury my head in the sand. When I get back to the caravan, Lucas is up and dressed.
‘Dad’s gone?’
‘Yes.’
‘Did you tell him about me and Aurora? The baby?’
‘Not yet. I think Christmas would be a good time.’
‘Not the present he’ll be expecting,’ Lucas says.
‘No.’ I should tell him that his father may well be heading off to Los Angeles after Christmas, but there’s time enough to do that too.