My Kind of Happy - Part One: A New Leaf Read online

  My stomach was still churning as I typed a response to Bernie.

  I could, but I’ve been thinking. Gary wants more responsibility and he knows this project inside out. Why don’t we give him a chance to shine? This presentation is standard stuff; I don’t think there’ll be any surprises for the client. Perfect opportunity for Gary to cut his teeth in the boardroom.

  I bit my lip, waiting for his return message, but instead my mobile flashed up silently with Bernie’s number.

  Damn it. There was no way I could avoid answering his call.

  ‘Hi, Bernie,’ I said wearily.

  ‘We need you there, Fearne.’ Bernie cut straight to the chase. ‘You can’t cherry-pick the parts of the job you like the most forever. I can’t keep making allowances for you.’

  This sounded like a reprimand. An official one. The subtext here was: OK, your brother died, it was awful and you were grieving, we cut you some slack, but enough is enough.

  ‘Of course you can’t, not forever,’ I said forcing a smile into my voice. ‘But just this once?’

  Bernie sighed down the phone.

  ‘The clients are expecting you. You’re the senior analyst.’

  ‘I can’t, I just … can’t.’

  There was silence down the line and I held my breath, hoping he’d take pity on me.

  ‘Maybe if getting back in this saddle is beyond you just now, then maybe you need …’ He paused and gulped so loudly I could almost see his Adam’s apple bobbing. ‘To look for another saddle.’

  ‘You mean another job? Are you sacking me?’ I was stunned; I hadn’t seen that coming.

  ‘No. And I don’t want you to leave. You’re a brilliant analyst. In ten years’ time you could be eyeing up my job. Imagine that!’ Bernie enthused.

  ‘Yes, imagine,’ I said faintly.

  The prospect horrified me. I’d worked at Zed Market Trends for a decade since leaving university; I liked routine and I felt comfortable there, but the thought of another decade and then another: suddenly it felt like a life sentence.

  ‘Exactly. But at the moment …’ He hesitated again and when he spoke, his tone was more gentle, ‘Let’s just say, your current behaviour hasn’t gone unnoticed by the directors. Your unwillingness to give client presentations, I mean. Yours is a client-facing role and when you abstain from delivering the end result of the project, well, you’re not fulfilling the terms of your contract. The rest of the team can’t carry you indefinitely. You’re either on board. Or you’re not.’

  ‘I understand.’ I felt the blood drain from my face. So much for Saturday working giving me extra Brownie points; instead I felt like I’d been given an ultimatum.

  We ended the call shortly after that with him telling me to think about it carefully and me promising I would. I powered down my laptop and sat for a moment in shock.

  This was dreadful; I wasn’t up to thinking about a new career at the moment, I was just about coping with the one I’d got. Or maybe I wasn’t even doing that.

  Your current behaviour hasn’t gone unnoticed …

  I reached automatically for my phone to call Laura and tell her what had happened before remembering. Not only had I alienated two of my closest friends today, on top of that it seemed I was in danger of losing my job.

  ‘What a mess, Scamp,’ I groaned, smoothing the fur back from his face.

  His anxious expression reminded me of the look Laura had given me just before I’d turned my back on her and stormed off.

  Poor Laura, I’d treated her terribly; I was consumed with shame. I was envious, plain and simple. Her life was sailing full steam ahead on a sea of love while mine was marooned on misery island and rather than be pleased for her like a true friend would have been, I’d shouted and stomped off in a huff.

  ‘Right,’ I said, purposefully, picking up the phone yet again. ‘I’m ringing her. This situation has gone on long enough.’

  Before I’d even had a chance to scroll to her number, Scamp began to bark. He leapt up from the sofa and onto his look-out chair. The curtains were drawn against the dark evening, so he couldn’t see out and he did an impatient dance until I opened them for him. But other than the headlights of a passing car, I couldn’t see anything.

  ‘Who’s there, Scamp? What did you hear?’

  The dog jumped down and went to the door, his tail circling enthusiastically just as the doorbell rang.

  I went out into the hall and grabbed hold of Scamp’s collar before opening the door. A sharp gust of cold air greeted me, as did one of my favourite people in the world: Hamish.

  My heart pattered nervously while I tried to gauge his mood.

  Scamp strained to get to him, almost dragging my arm out of its socket. I let him go and he launched himself at Hamish’s legs.

  ‘I come in peace.’ Hamish thrust out a bunch of black-eyed pink and purple anemones and eyed me cautiously.

  ‘Thank you. They’re gorgeous,’ I said staring at the flowers awkwardly. Scamp sniffed the air hopefully.

  Hamish scratched behind Scamp’s ears and then pulled a leathery-looking chew from his pocket. ‘And I believe you like these?’

  Scamp sat down in a flash, managing to be as still as a statue and yet quiver with anticipation at the same time. We both laughed and some of the tension dissipated.

  What would I do without that dog, I thought, with a stab of love: he could diffuse a sticky situation, simply by being there. He kept his eyes trained on Hamish until the treat was his and then padded off to enjoy it in private.

  ‘I’m probably the last person you want to see right now, but may I come in?’ Hamish, hunched up in a ski jacket, blew on his hands, reminding me that he was still standing out in the cold.

  ‘Of course.’ I stood back to let him pass.

  He kissed my cheek as he drew level with me. ‘I knew bribing you with flowers was a good idea.’

  ‘Oh, Hamish. You’d have been welcome anyway.’ I dropped my head on his shoulder and he wrapped his arms tightly around me. ‘I’m so ashamed of myself, I’ve behaved appallingly today. I’m happy for you and Laura really. It was just a shock.’

  Hamish peered at my face. ‘Do you mean that?’

  I nodded. ‘I think you’ll make a great couple. I’m so sorry.’

  I really meant it. They were well suited: both kind, loyal, hard-working and good fun. I wondered why it had never occurred to me before.

  ‘No apology necessary,’ he said. ‘Laura can’t forgive herself for letting our news ruin your spa day.’

  A rush of shame flooded through me.

  ‘I was just about to ring her when you called,’ I said. ‘Because I do need to apologise. She didn’t ruin the day. I did.’

  Hamish ran a hand through his thick mop of red hair. ‘Laura and I don’t come out of this well either. We’re not proud of keeping our relationship secret from you. In hindsight, perhaps we should have involved you right from the very beginning. Truth is, we felt guilty that Freddie’s funeral led to something so wonderful.’

  I nodded slowly, appreciating how difficult it had been to tell me anything recently. There was so much about my brother’s death that didn’t make sense. I had questions that I’d probably never get answers to. What he’d done that night was so out of character that I didn’t think I’d ever understand what had been going through his mind. Sometimes it made me angry, at others I was simply heartbroken. But now Hamish and Laura had found love through him and while it wouldn’t mend my heart, it certainly helped.

  ‘You know something?’ I said with a watery smile. ‘This is the first positive thing that has come out of losing him, so I’m going to celebrate it. Come here.’

  I hugged him again, this man who’d become like a surrogate big brother to me. Not just since last summer but ever since Freddie had first introduced us after meeting Hamish at uni.

  ‘I’ve never loved anyone like I love her,’ he said now with a goofy grin.

  ‘You’d better look after her,’ I w
arned, tapping a finger to his chest. ‘Or you’ll have me to answer to.’

  Just then Scamp pushed his bony head between us and breathed his hot chew-flavoured breath up at Hamish.

  ‘And him,’ I added.

  ‘I promise,’ he said, pressing a fierce kiss to my forehead. ‘So are we good?’

  I nodded and sent up a silent thank you to the powers-that-be for the gift of Hamish McNamee in my life.

  ‘Thank heavens for that,’ he said with evident relief. ‘Because Laura’s in the car. I was sent ahead as the peace envoy. If I’d got short shrift we were …’

  I didn’t hang around to hear the rest. I handed him the anemones and fled from the house.

  My best friend was here and I couldn’t wait to make it up to her.

  Chapter Four

  I ran out onto the pavement in the dark and looked left and right, searching the line of parked cars along Pineapple Road until I found Hamish’s. Laura was already out of the car by the time I’d reached it, her worried face lit by the orangey glow of the street lamps.

  ‘Friends?’ she asked softly.

  ‘Always.’ I threw my arms around her neck and drew her close. ‘Forgiven?’

  ‘Always,’ she replied.

  And we both sighed with relief.

  My spirits lifted. Sometimes things could be that simple. We headed back, pausing to collect Scamp who’d gone to sniff his old front door. In the kitchen, Hamish had put the flowers in the sink in water and was making tea. Laura went straight to him, touching the nape of his neck tenderly and then pulled me into their orbit for a group hug.

  I pushed down the thought that from now on I’d be the third wheel in this relationship and concentrated on the happiness that was radiating from them both.

  ‘I’m glad we’ve cleared the air,’ I said. ‘But sad it needed doing.’

  ‘Ditto,’ said Laura. ‘And I promise if we go to that spa again, I’ll even go hula-hooping with you.’

  ‘Deal.’ I grinned and we both laughed at Hamish’s startled face.

  ‘And now we’re going to clear Freddie’s room,’ he said, clapping his hands together. ‘Because that’s another thing which needs doing.’

  I blinked at him. ‘Right now?’

  ‘Yep.’ He handed us mugs and strode purposefully out into the hallway and up the staircase.

  ‘No time like the present,’ said Laura, grabbing my hand. ‘Before you have a chance to talk yourself out of it again.’

  Scamp, excited by such unusual activity, danced ahead of us.

  My pulse speeded up as Hamish paused outside Freddie’s closed door. He was right; I’d been avoiding this job for months. And doing it spontaneously meant that I wouldn’t have time to think about it.

  He looked at me steadily. ‘Ready?’

  ‘Ready,’ I said gruffly.

  Laura’s comforting hand squeezed my waist.

  Hamish twisted the doorknob, the heart of my brother’s domain opened up and a tremor of emotion rippled through me. Laura and I followed him inside. She snapped on the light and Hamish crossed to the window to close the curtains.

  It was cold in here; the radiator had been turned off and both Laura and I shivered.

  The leather and aftershave and engine oil that had made up my brother’s unique scent still lingered.

  ‘It smells like he’s still here,’ I murmured, turning around to see everything.

  His double bed had been stripped and the duvet and pillows had been piled at one end of the mattress. Mum had done it the week of the funeral, before I’d begged her to leave the rest of his room intact. The magnetic board above his desk had overlapping layers of notes and ticket stubs and photographs pinned to it; a row of battered trainers formed a border underneath the window. A wardrobe, some drawers and a bookshelf, all crammed with Freddie’s possessions, possessions which I’d never in a million years have rifled through without his permission.

  I felt dizzy thinking about it. Laura appeared back at my side.

  ‘You OK?’

  ‘Not really,’ I said, with a ghost of a smile. ‘Maybe we’ll just do one drawer tonight if you don’t mind?’

  ‘I’ll go and find bin bags from the kitchen,’ said Hamish and bounded back out of the room.

  The thought of piling Freddie’s things into a bin bag stole the breath from my lungs. I sat down heavily on the chair at his desk. Suddenly I just wanted this over with as quickly as possible. Scamp slunk in and after investigating the only room in the house he’d never been in, he flopped down at my feet. By the time Hamish had returned with a roll of bin bags, Laura and I had pulled out the bottom drawer of Freddie’s desk and were staring into it.

  ‘On the basis that the bottom one has the least interesting stuff in it, this seemed like a good place to start,’ I said.

  ‘Sounds like a plan,’ said Laura cheerfully. ‘Shall we make piles to keep?’

  I made a face. ‘Keeping things is easy, it’s choosing what to get rid of which will hurt.’

  ‘We shouldn’t find anything of great importance,’ Hamish said, tearing a black sack from the roll. ‘I’ve already dealt with his financial stuff and passport, etcetera.’

  ‘But it’s all important,’ I replied, gazing at the melee of loose photographs, countless pens and keyrings and at least three torches. ‘Because it’s all I have left of Freddie.’

  Hamish winced. ‘Yeah, ’course. I didn’t mean … I just meant—’

  ‘I know what you meant,’ I said, sighing. ‘This is just hard, you know? Letting go. And being in here seems such an invasion.’

  Laura’s hand found mine. ‘I felt the same when Mum died. Listen to your heart and if you don’t feel ready, we’ll walk away and do it another day.’

  I nodded, grateful for her experience. Her mum had passed away only weeks before our university graduation ceremony and her dad had gone to pieces for a while, leaving Laura to deal with the arrangements.

  My fingers found a small box, I pulled it out and removed the lid to reveal a pair of silver cufflinks. Freddie was a T-shirt, jeans and leathers man; I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen him in a suit.

  ‘They’re gorgeous,’ whispered Laura.

  ‘I remember those, I had a matching pair,’ said Hamish. ‘For a mate’s wedding. All the ushers had the same ones. I lost one of mine.’

  ‘Then take these.’ I handed him the box quickly as if it was scorching my fingers. ‘He’d be pleased about that. And you’re more of a cufflinks man than he ever was.’

  A sharp pang twisted at my insides, threatening to drag me back to the darkness of grief.

  Freddie would never get married in a suit wearing silver cufflinks, he would never turn to watch the girl of his dreams walking down the aisle to meet him, would never do all of the things that Hamish no doubt would achieve so easily in the years to come. And the sheer waste of his beautiful life stung.

  ‘I’ll treasure them.’ He tipped them out and turned them over in his hand, twisting his mouth into a smile. ‘Laura says I look hot in a suit. I’ve bought two new ones since our first date.’

  ‘Have you!’ Laura gasped with embarrassment and covered her cheeks. ‘That is so sweet!’

  It was on the tip of my tongue to ask about their first date but I held back. It would be something she and I could giggle about over a glass of wine one night.

  ‘A word of warning; Laura also thinks Spiderman’s hot,’ I said. ‘If she starts talking about all-in-one Lycra bodysuits, run for the hills.’

  Hamish and I teased Laura for blushing and I felt the first hopeful shoots; maybe them being a couple wouldn’t be as bad as I thought after all.

  ‘So far we’ve removed only one item and the bin bag is still empty,’ said Laura. ‘I think we’re going to have to be a little more ruthless.’

  For the next few minutes, we delved through the bottom desk drawer and managed to clear it out, salvaging only a university keyring which Hamish wanted to keep and a pen with four colou
red inks in it which Laura said would be handy for work. Scamp had shown an interest when we’d uncovered half a biscuit but I’d quickly disposed of it before he could snaffle it; goodness knows how long it had been there.

  Laura and I both eyed the middle drawer of the three while Hamish stuffed the rejected items into the black bag.

  ‘Only if you’re up to it,’ she said.

  I puffed my cheeks out and opened the drawer. ‘If not now, then when, as the saying goes.’

  At first glance the contents seemed similar to the last drawer: a mishmash of things which, although not obviously important, clearly were important enough to Freddie to warrant drawer space.

  Underneath a pile of leaflets that Freddie had had printed when he’d first started as a motorbike instructor was a small hardback notebook. It had lots of pieces of paper slipped between the pages. I lifted it out and Hamish’s eyes widened.

  ‘No way!’ he whistled. ‘I remember that book, he wrote all the details of our India trip down in there: flights, hotels, things we definitely wanted to see.’

  At the end of their degree course, Hamish and Freddie had gone on a crazy road trip across India on motorbikes and had had the time of their lives. When they returned, tanned, thin and brimming with stories, Freddie announced that he was never going to work in an office or be weighed down by corporate life. The thrill of discovering the world on a bike far outweighed the prospect of job security and a pension. For the next fifteen years, he had worked as a motorcycle instructor, earning just enough to pay for the next trip. Hamish, on the other hand, said he never wanted to ride a bike again. He worked in London for a talent agency before returning to the north to set up on his own. He was now a successful sports agent with a roster of footballers, cricketers and boxers on his client list. Despite their different life choices, they’d remained close.

  I flicked through the pages, my heart twisting at the sight of Freddie’s terrible handwriting: all in capitals and written so firmly that I could make out the indentations of the letters on the back of each page.

  ‘Can I see?’ Hamish was itching to take the book from me.