Page 24 of The Lucky Winners

Monday

I make myself a cup of tea and head outside. The crisp air helps clear my head and I close my eyes and breathe in the scent of damp grass and petrichor from the light rain we had during the night. It’s quiet here, almost too quiet.

On the photographs I’ve seen on the DreamKey website, this place looks idyllic. And it is. But in real life, it also feels far more isolated than I expected and all this glass … It’s like a goldfish bowl anyone can look into when they choose.

My phone buzzes beside me. I answer the call. Too late, I see it’s a FaceTime.

‘Morning,’ Tilda calls, with a little wave. ‘How’s it going?’

‘Great!’

She looks alert and dressed. Her hair is neat and she has make-up on. I’m sitting here in my dressing-gown with still-bleary eyes.

She raises an eyebrow. ‘You look as though you haven’t had much sleep.’

‘I feel knackered, Tilda. I’m having a few more problems settling in here than Dev. He slept like a log.’

She nods sympathetically. ‘Well, in my experience, you can’t force these things. You just have to go with the flow and accept that’s how you feel.’

‘I know you’re right, but I keep chastising myself for being so flaky. Even though we’ve been incredibly lucky, I’m finding it difficult to adjust.’

‘I get it. I really do.’ She looks at her nails. ‘When we moved here, I felt the same. I hated the upheaval.’

‘Wow. I thought you really wanted to get out of Newcastle.’ I see a look pass over her face and I wonder if she finds her personal stuff difficult to share, like me. ‘Sorry, you don’t have to answer, if you don’t –’

‘No, no. It’s fine, honestly. It’s so nice to have a friend here to chat to at last. God knows I could do with a shoulder to cry on sometimes.’ She shrugs. ‘We did need to get away from the north-east, but we’ve been here over three years now and I still feel a bit isolated.’

I stay quiet, flattered she already thinks of me as a friend.

‘We’ve moved around a lot in our twenty years together,’ she says lightly. ‘Let’s just say we’ve had our ups and downs and we like the fresh starts.’

I try not to read between the lines. This is a different vibe altogether from what she gave me at the café yesterday.

‘Simon thought the rural life and the fresh air would suit us. And, generally, I think it does, although the trouble with moving somewhere you enjoyed on holiday is that it’s not quite the same as living a day-to-day life there.

’ She laughs. ‘It’s not exactly the early-morning walks around the lake and weekend picnics we’d envisaged, but we do have a slower pace of life, and I like being able to keep a closer eye on him.

’ She winks and I’m not sure whether she’s joking.

‘That’s what we want for ourselves, too,’ I say, adjusting the phone angle. ‘Put all our worries and past mistakes behind us.’

‘Gosh, yes. Sounds like you were living hand to mouth for some of it.’

She thinks I mean the recent past, but that’s fine. She doesn’t need to know any more than that.

‘Dev’s a bit more get-go than me. The money is burning a hole in his pocket, but I’m more cautious. I can’t get used to not scrimping and scraping.’

‘Quite right. Two-fifty is a nice sum, but it won’t last for ever and the running costs for a place like that must be very high,’ Tilda says. ‘At the same time, my advice is don’t wait for permission to start living as you want to. Bad for you. Bad for your marriage.’

It’s a good point, but she doesn’t know that Dev can go a bit mad on his spending when there’s money. And, right now, there’s a hell of a lot .

She tips her head and looks into the camera. ‘Listen, I don’t know if you’re into it, but there’s a great yoga class I’ve found in the village. It helps with …’ she gestures vaguely around her head ‘… all the mind noise. If you fancy coming along, it’s this evening.’

For a moment, I’m thrown. I didn’t expect this, a casual invitation, so soon. Tilda is offering friendship and support and, to be honest, it feels like a lifeline of sorts among all the stuff that’s bothering me. Even if Tilda doesn’t know that.

‘That’s really kind of you,’ I say, still feeling cautious. ‘I might take you up on it.’

‘Great! Sometimes it’s good to escape the worries for an hour or two, you know?’

I nod, but her words hit a little too close to home. She doesn’t know how worried I am, but there’s something about her offer that feels right. A way to focus on my wellbeing for a short time.

‘Right. I’ll leave you to it, then. I’ll text you details of tonight’s class and then it’s up to you if you want to come.’

‘Thanks, Tilda,’ I say, before we end the call. ‘I really appreciate it.’

I feel a strange mixture of gratitude and guilt. Maybe I shouldn’t be so quick to isolate myself. I can’t afford to slip up now. Not when everything is so fragile.

That evening, I find myself at a small village hall, surrounded by strangers on yoga mats.

The air smells of Nag Champa and, for the first time in weeks, I feel my shoulders relax a little.

I spot Tilda a couple of rows back from the front, waving me over.

‘Great you could make it!’ she whispers. ‘I brought you my spare mat.’

The instructor, a softly spoken, slim, middle-aged woman with a serene smile, guides us through slow, flowing movements and breathing exercises. My inflexibility is obvious, but it seems to work. My mind stops racing.

The hour goes so fast, and after relaxation at the end, we roll up our mats and I feel calmer, more upbeat.

‘You’ve got great legs,’ Tilda says suddenly.

I laugh. ‘What?’

‘Your legs. They’re long and shapely.’

‘Oh, thanks,’ I say, shrugging off the compliment. ‘Lucky I married a leg man, then.’

She stares at me for a long moment. ‘Simon’s a leg man, too.’ Then she says, ‘Has Dev noticed you’re struggling to feel at home here?’

‘Not really. It’s early days, isn’t it? But I tend to hide my worries. At least, I hope I do.’

‘I know how that feels,’ she murmurs. ‘Sometimes I feel as if Simon has stopped noticing anything about me at all.’

I’m shocked at this impromptu nugget of personal truth.

For a few fleeting moments I see sadness in her eyes, as if her confidence is just an illusion.

But when they came up to the house the day we visited, I noticed the way Simon had looked at her and touched her affectionately. He’d seemed so caring.

‘I’m sure that’s not true, Tilda,’ I say, a bit uselessly. ‘You’re such an attractive woman.’

Then she grins and that attractive shimmer of confidence is back.

‘Do you feel your relationship with Dev is strong?’ she says. ‘I mean, would you say you have a happy marriage?’

‘Gosh, yes,’ I say quickly. ‘At least I hope so. I suppose nobody knows what’s around the corner.’

Or what’s lurking in the past …