Page 13 of Sunny Skies and Summer Kisses

Their relationship hadn’t been easy, and things had soured quickly once Anoushka was born, with Nataliya seeming almost resentful of her role as a mother. It appeared to highlight the fact that being tied down to one spot just wasn’t in her DNA and the urge to move on, to pick up where she’d left off with her old lifestyle, proved too irresistible a pull to ignore. One evening, Ollie returned home from work to find a note on the table and little Anoushka sobbing inconsolably in her crib. Nataliya had gone, declaring what everyone had been able to see: motherhood wasn’t for her. She’d stated in no uncertain terms Ollie wasn’t to attempt to find her; nothing could tempt her back. Not even news of little Anoushka. Unable to comprehend how she could walk out on their angelic little daughter, he’d ignored her warnings and searched for her, but it had proved futile; Nataliya was nowhere to be found. And so, at the grand old age of twenty-one, his life as a single parent began.

Whenever Anoushka had asked about her mother, Ollie had been at great pains to spare her feelings, explaining the situation as kindly as possible, telling her Nataliya had left, not because she didn’t love Anoushka, but because she’d struggled to adjust to her new lifestyle; putting down roots had been hard when she’d spent her whole life travelling the world. He’d also told her Nataliya had left her with Ollie, knowing he would be able to offer their daughter a more secure, stable life with his close-knit family in Lytell Stangdale. ‘She loved you so much, and she only wanted what was best for you, sweetheart,’ he’d told a ten-year-old Anoushka. There might not have been a grain of truth in what he'd told his daughter, but his words had gone some tiny way to assuaging the hurt she felt at her mum walking out on her.

A quiet and unassuming man, Ollie had done a commendable job of being both mum and dad to Anoushka. It hadn’t been easy but he’d promised himself he’d do whatever he could to ensure she’d never feel like she was missing out by not having a mum around. And, with the help of his parents, he’d pretty much been able to keep that promise. ‘You can’t miss what you’ve never had” was a reply Anoushka regularly gave when friends had asked how it felt to grow up not knowing her mum.

Despite juggling single-parenthood with a full-time job as the local joiner, he’d always made sure she got to her numerous dance classes over at Middleton-le-Moors, not to mention the swimming lessons at the pool there, along with all the usual childhood commitments that were thrown at him. He’d never once felt it a burden. Anoushka was the apple of his eye and, in turn, she adored him. He’d watched her blossom into a confident, bubbly young woman of whom he was inordinately proud.

It hadn’t always been easy though, especially when the teenage years beckoned and Anoushka had pushed at her boundaries. The pair still chuckled about the time when, aged fourteen, she’d wanted to dye her waist-long, golden hair a shocking shade of bright blue with pink streaks. Ollie had been horrified and she’d hounded him relentlessly.

‘Please, Dad!Please! I can’t believe you won’t let me. You’re being so unreasonable! Jacey’s mum’s going to let her dyeherhair bright green.’

‘It’s still a no, Noushka.’

‘But why not?’

‘Because, for a start, you’ve got beautiful hair and if you dye it some crazy colour, there’s a risk you’ll ruin it; there’ll be no going back when you’re bored of it. And secondly, you know what the school rules say about outrageous hair colours; you’d be expelled as soon as the teachers clapped eyes on you. So it’s still a no, I’m afraid.’

‘That’s so unfair. Jacey’s got blonde hair too, and her mum doesn’t have a problem with her dying her hair bright green.’ Anoushka’s eyes had blazed with outrage.

‘Well, that’s up to her. I’m not Jacey’s mum,’ Ollie had said, patiently.

‘Ughh! Too right you’re not her! She’s fun. You’re mean and boring!’ She’d stamped her foot and flounced off to her bedroom, slamming the door for good measure.

The argument had burnt itself out over the course of a couple of days, by which time Anoushka had completely gone off the idea of dying her hair and moved onto her next project: getting her dad to agree to more piercings in her ears. And it transpired that Jacey’s mum had taken the same stance as Ollie on the hair-dye situation; there was no way she’d agree to anything so drastic either.

Their – usually – peaceful existence had been rocked when, out of the blue, Nataliya had turned up when Anoushka was almost sixteen. But rather than the young girl being in raptures at finally getting to meet her mum who’d only ever been some elusive, mysterious beauty conjured up by her imagination, it had been a crashing disappointment. There’d been no invisible bond that had transcended time or distance, and no overwhelming rush of love on either part. And there’d been no gushing apologies from Nataliya, nor hot tears shed in regret of their lost years together. Instead, a great, yawning chasm had stretched out between them, growing wider by the day. Nataliya had been full of angry recriminations, blaming Ollie for their lack of contact. ‘But we didn’t disappear, Nataliya,’ he’d said. ‘We’re still living in the same house. You could’ve got in touch any time you wanted.’ She’d batted his words away scornfully. It was clear she hadn’t changed one bit. During her stay, she resumed her cold and selfish behaviour, treating Ollie like a doormat with her diva ways. It was just as it had been during her earlier time in the village.

It had made Anoushka’s blood boil and she’d found herself wishing the woman would pack her bags and leave as quickly as she’d arrived.

That day came when it had become clear to Nataliya that she wasn’t going to be able to pick up where she’d left off with the ease she’d anticipated. In the end, she’d flounced out of Rose Cottage in a cloud of distaste.

Though she was relieved, Anoushka hadn’t been able to lie to herself, despite the secure and warm homelife her dad had created, it was as if her mother had twisted the knife when she’d packed her bags and walked out of their lives for a second time. Anoushka was hurt that she hadn’t been enough. Again. Her way of numbing the pain was to tell herself Nataliya’s leaving was no loss, and, if she’d been in possession of the full facts, she’d have known she was absolutely justified in thinking that. Nataliya had returned to benefit herself and not out of any kind of maternal loyalty or regret. She’d been caught stealing by one of her fellow performers from the circus and needed to lie low for a while. Lytell Stangdale had offered the perfect hiding place; she’d only every planned to stick around until she’d sucked everything she could out of Ollie, before disappearing once more.

With Nataliya and her accompanying drama hightailing it out of the village, the dust had settled and the easy atmosphere returned to the Cartwright household. And it had left Anoushka free – and even more determined – to concentrate on a spot of matchmaking for her dad and the newly-divorced Kitty Bennett. She’d got an inkling he’d been growing close to his childhood sweetheart, which was something she’d been keen to encourage. She’d always thought if she could ever choose a mum, Kitty would be perfect for the role. With her kind nature and gentle temperament, she was a female version of her dad. Plus, she was about as far removed from the frosty and brittle Nataliya as was possible, which suited Anoushka just fine.

The day that Anoushka had been so desperate for finally arrived when Ollie married Kitty, becoming stepdad to Lucas and Lily. Finding herself part of a bigger family dynamic and moving into Kitty’s home at Oak Tree Farm, Anoushka couldn’t have been happier. The two families had knitted together quickly, with baby Lottie arriving the following year, making them complete. A happy, patchwork family. Her new home had brimmed with laughter and noise, and Anoushka savoured every moment. She’d never forget how Kitty’s eyes had shone with happy tears the first time Anoushka had called her “Mum”. Of course, there were the inevitable glitches along the way, particularly in the early days when there were squabbles over time spent in the bathroom – according to Lucas, Anoushka hogged it and – worse still! – she left all her beauty products lying around, and, heaven forbid, a bra! ‘Ughh! Bloomin’ lasses and all their weird stuff!’ he'd said, complaining to Ollie who’d given him a sympathetic pat on the back. What to watch on TV regularly triggered minor disagreements too, as did who took the last slice of cake or shortbread – Lucas and his burgeoning appetite was the most frequent culprit, though he’d always vociferously deny it.

This new family dynamic, fortified with love and kindness, became the blueprint Anoushka wanted for her own future. The bar had been set high, which made her wonder how on earth she’d managed to get it so horribly wrong with Damon.

But now, looking back from this vantage point and the clarity it afforded, she could actually see when things had begun to change between them. It had been after they’d shared a bottle of wine one evening at Damon’s apartment and she’d found the story of how she’d grown up without her mum spilling out. With the alcohol loosening her tongue, Anoushka had confessed how, despite having a brilliant childhood, filled with happy memories, her mum abandoning her had left a tiny relic of hurt she couldn’t ever imagine going away. Of how she’d sometimes had nightmares about her dad leaving her too and she’d find herself all alone in the world. She wasn’t usually one for baring her soul, particularly about her mother, and she’d regretted it almost instantly, but Damon had listened, offering soothing words, telling her she had him now and how all he wanted was to make her happy. At the time she’d had no reason not to believe him. But it hadn’t taken long for his cold, manipulative side to pounce, subtly at first, and in such little dribs and drabs she’d brushed it off, blaming herself for misunderstanding or reading him wrong. Only now Anoushka could see how she hadn’t been to blame. He’d skilfully tapped his way into her insecurities as a way of getting to her, of undermining her and chipping away at her confidence. He was a skilled manipulator, and being young and naïve meant she was easy prey, and the reason it had taken her so long to come to her senses.

10

After days of unseasonably warm sunshine, Anoushka opened her bedroom curtains on Thursday morning to see rain slanting against the window, clouds sitting low in a gloomy sky. It did nothing to dispel the buoyant feeling that still ran through her. It was hard to believe it had been a whole five days since she’d broken up with Damon. She’d been relieved to find he’d left her alone that first night; the radio silence had been a blessed relief. But the following day, he’d hounded her relentlessly, bombarding her with a gut-churning amount of phone calls, voicemails, text messages and DMs, just as she’d expected he would. They’d been calm at first, cool almost, asking her to contact him, telling her he might consider taking her back. ‘Hemight consider takingmeback,’ she’d said to herself, incredulous. ‘Well, that’s never going to happen, buster.’ When it became clear she was ignoring him, it hadn’t taken long for his familiar, bullying tone to kick in. It sounded almost sinister to her ears now.

By mid-afternoon, she’d decided to delete his messages as soon as they arrived, not even bothering to open them, but he’d kept up such a sustained assault on her phone, she’d been forced to turned it off. ‘You can’t let him influence whether you use your phone or not, Noushka,’ her dad said. ‘That’s simply putting power back into his hands, albeit indirectly. What if your friends have been trying to get in touch? Wouldn’t it be easier just to block his number?’ Which is exactly what she did. It had been a huge relief. And though it had silenced him for now, something in Anoushka’s bones told her she hadn’t heard the last of him.

It was hard for her to comprehend that towards the end of their relationship he’d even started dropping hints that he was considering proposing to her. Dangling them like they were tempting gifts. Who did he think he was? The thought of being trapped in a marriage to a man like him made her blood run cold.

Since their break-up, Anoushka had kept a low profile in the village – news travelled fast on the moorland grapevine and she wasn’t ready to discuss her new-found single status with the locals just yet. She’d kept her interactions to a minimum at her mid-week dance class, holding back from getting involved in conversations with the parents as they’d dropped their children off. It wasn’t that she was too upset to go out and face the world, it was just she was still feeling a little frayed around the edges. She needed time for the dust to settle; to recalibrate. After all, the spectre of Damon wasn’t going to relinquish its grip that easily.

Over the last few days, she’d relished spending time in the cocoon of her family home, totally unencumbered by his influence, laughing and chatting with her siblings – little Lottie really did give the best squidgy cuddles – and helping Kitty in the kitchen. And now she’d had time to sit down and consider what she’d experienced at the hands of such a manipulative man, Anoushka was able to see it from the perspective of her family and friends. From this new vantage point, she’d been able to understand why they’d been so worried, understand why they’d tried to warn her.

‘You couldn’t see it for yourself, ’cos you were too close, chick,’ Kitty had said. ‘But, put it this way, how would you feel if it was Lily who was going out with someone like that? You’d be able to see very clearly what was happening, and you’d be worried sick. That’s what it was like for us watching you.’

Hadn’t Kristy said the very same thing? The thought had made Anoushka’s hackles rise. If she’d needed any further convincing that splitting up with Damon was the right thing to do, it was her step-mum and Kristy’s analogy. She promised herself she’d never let it happen again. And, for that matter, she was going to make damned sure it never happened to her younger sisters either.

Though she’d been keeping herself to herself, it hadn’t stopped Anoushka from venturing up onto the moors, savouring some head-clearing walks. She’d always found being out in the fresh air made her problems and worries seem smaller, more manageable. And Anoushka had been a fresh air fiend as far back as she could remember, whether it be setting up pretend dance classes in her back garden when she was a little girl, heading out to the moors with her friends or going on bracing dog walks. Lytell Stangdale had been a wonderful place to grow up, where she’d felt safe, secure and happy, with the people she loved most close to hand. Life had never been dull; there were always plenty of activities and groups to get involved in, from yoga to pottery painting to computer classes. But the one thing it had always lacked was a dance school. Which, to her mind, was the perfect reason for her to stay in the place she loved and open her own dance studio. There was only one problem: finding a suitable location. Damon’s mocking retort when she’d shared her plans with him still rankled in her ears. It had made her all the more determined to fulfil her dreams.

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