Sunrise at Butterfly Cove. Sarah Bennett
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Retrieving a plastic bowl from under the sink, she filled it with warm water and fetched a clean towel from the drawer. After placing them on the table, she gripped Daniel’s chin, turning his face towards her. He remained passive while she washed his face, letting her turn his head this way and that as she wiped away the traces of his outburst. She rinsed the towel out in the bowl, then cleaned off his hands with the same concentration, keeping her touch gentle, stroking his skin until he began to stir.
Daniel opened his mouth, no doubt to apologise for his behaviour, but she shook her head and tapped him under the chin to close his mouth. ‘Arms up, Daniel. Let’s get this nasty sweater off you.’ Taking care not to let the dirty material touch his face, she eased the garment over his head and bundled it up with the dirty towel. Turning away, she shoved them into the washing machine, adding them to her grubby pyjamas and dressing gown. A quick twist of the dial and the soothing hum of the machine filled the air.
‘You got a toothbrush in that duffel bag of yours?’ Mia asked, pointing towards the big bag that lay just inside the back door. She waited for him to nod before digging around in its contents until she gave a little grunt of satisfaction as she located and retrieved his wash kit. ‘You’ll feel better once you rinse your mouth and clean your teeth; I always do,’ she said trying to put him at ease.
Deciding a cold drink would probably be welcome, she fetched a can of Diet Coke and a bottle of mineral water from the fridge, before resuming her seat from earlier, one foot tucked beneath her in her habitual position. She’d regret it soon enough when the pins and needles started, but it was a habit she’d developed in childhood and never grown out of.
She watched Daniel rinse and spit, rinse again then dry his face and hands. He was braced over the sink taking deep breaths and the tension in his shoulders told her was trying not to be sick again. Without any real thought, she crossed to stand behind him and rubbed his back softly. Making circles with her hand, she stroked the tense muscles until they yielded beneath her touch.
Stormy green eyes met hers over his shoulder and she twisted her lips into a semblance of a smile, though there was little true mirth in it. ‘What a pair of fuck-ups we are,’ she said bluntly.
Surprise widened his gaze, chasing away some of the desperate vulnerability she couldn’t miss. She knew that look, knew it well, and it helped to crystallise her decision. ‘I don’t want to hear your sad story, Daniel. Nor do I want to tell you mine, so I’ll make a deal with you. You can stay here for a week and get yourself together and in return I expect you to work on the house to earn your keep. There’s a list of things to do as long as your arm. I wasn’t joking when I said I didn’t have a room fit for habitation. I’ll get you a quilt and a pillow and you can crash on the sofa. Tomorrow you can pick one of the rooms upstairs and we’ll clean it up so you have somewhere to sleep tomorrow night. That’s my only offer—take it or take off.’
Mia hoped he’d take it. She knew what it was like to hit rock bottom and Daniel seemed close to that. It was time to move forward and she could manage a week. There were plenty of dirty, heavy chores on her list that he could help with. A bit of hard work might be just what he needed.
‘Thank you.’ His voice sounded rough, his throat clearly raw and dry. Mia stepped back, gathered the drinks and offered them to him. He reached for the Diet Coke, popping the tab and gulping at the cold, sweet liquid. She waited for him to drink his fill, wary in case it came back up, but he seemed more settled now that she had agreed to let him stay for a few days.
‘A couple of the rooms upstairs are en suite so I’ll sort the bathroom out while you sort the bedroom. Can you manage tonight without a shower? The only useable one is in my room and I just can’t have you in there.’ She turned away, needing to put some distance between them, muttering to herself as she resumed her seat. ‘I just can’t have you in my space.’
Mia crossed one arm over her chest and rubbed her other shoulder. The body language was defensive, but she couldn’t help it. With each passing moment, panic rose. She wanted to rescind her offer, shove Daniel out the door and erect all her barriers again. Danger! Keep Out! No Trespassing! She forced her hands down into her lap and tried to relax and keep her breathing calm.
‘You’ve done more than I could ever have expected under the circumstances. I’m sorry to put you in this position.’ His quiet tone sounded soft and sincere. With a rueful laugh, he continued. ‘But apparently not sorry enough that I can bring myself to do the honourable thing and leave you in peace. I will do my best to repay you with a lot of hard work and I wouldn’t dream of invading any more of your home than you are comfortable with sharing. A hot shower and a proper bed will be motivation tomorrow to get stuck in.’
Mia felt his eyes on her but didn’t want to meet them. She crossed over to the kitchen window, pulling the curtains closed over the rapidly darkening sky. ‘It gets dark so quickly this time of year.’ She rolled her eyes at her inane remark; her back was turned so thankfully he didn’t see her. The decision was made and it was time to face up to it. Hopefully they would find some neutral ground where they could both relax a little and adjust to the other’s company.
She’d always been a feeder by nature, a nurturer. It was a source of deep regret that she and Jamie had not felt ready to have a child because at least then she would’ve had a piece of him to care for. They’d been young, eager to explore the world together, revelling in the selfish bliss of just their own company, not having to split their attentions on anything other than each other. They had their whole lives ahead of them, Jamie had said. No need to rush into a family.
A burst tyre and a slick, wet road had robbed them of their future; those dream babies that Mia had pictured holding would never fill her empty arms. ‘Shit, shit, stop it, Mia!’ She shook her head to dislodge the memories threatening to encroach.
Needing to hide for a moment to regain her compose, she crossed the kitchen and entered the narrow pantry that ran the length of the room. It was a treasure of a space. Sturdy, wide shelves down one side and a built-in wine rack at the far end. The bare stone floor helped to keep the temperature cooler than the rest of the kitchen, but was brutal underfoot this time of year, even with thick woollen socks on.
Mia grabbed the cob loaf wrapped in a muslin cloth and returned to the main kitchen space, wiggling her feet gratefully on the warmer floor in front of the Aga. She unwrapped the bread and tested its freshness. She’d baked it a couple of days ago, but the cloth had helped to keep it from drying out. Opening the fridge, she retrieved half a roast chicken, a pot of single cream and some stock. She placed them on the board and turned back towards the pantry. Daniel watched her, a slightly quizzical expression on his face.
‘I thought I’d make some soup, nothing too testing if your stomach is still feeling a little rebellious. We’ll both feel better for a hot meal, I think.’
She carried on past the table and back into the pantry to root in her vegetable basket for the bits she needed to thicken the soup and up the nutritional punch. Since moving to Orcombe, she’d made a conscious effort to eat well, having neglected herself for too long after Jamie’s death. Cooking and baking had always been a source of comfort and enjoyment. Originally it had been a chore that she had learned through necessity thanks to her mother’s negligence and her father’s steadfast refusal to notice his wife’s drink problem.
As the oldest of three, it had fallen to Mia to assume the responsibility for the day-to-day care of her two sisters. Each of