by Nell Grey
“Annie... This view... This place... Here…It’s so special to me.”
Waves of green, rugged Welsh mountains stretched around us. Out west, in the distance, we could see the grey-blue sea.
He still held onto my hand.
But, then he was always tactile. Putting his arm around me when we walked or watched a film together in the static caravan, where he lived with Callista. And it was my favourite place to be, with my head on his chest as we sat stretched out watching TV.
I’d always been closer to him than anyone else. Even the numerous girls he’d gone out with.
And yet, thinking back, how well did I know him? Really?
He faced me. And stared at me; curiously, intensely, making me blush.
His deep chocolate eyes sent my pulse secretly racing as I felt the charge between us. Did he feel it too?
“What’s up, Jac?”
He squeezed my hand.
“Nothing. It’s nothing. Come on.”
He jumped up. Standing, he pulled me to my feet too, and we raced and skidded down the rocky scree back to the quad.
Hopping on, we did the usual tour of the fields on the farm bike, and Jac helped me feed the fat lambs in the lower paddock that had been drawn for early sale.
“You up for shearing next week?” I called over my shoulder as I steered the quad back towards the static.
He didn’t reply, so I took it as a yes.
Dad had been giving him paid jobs. I knew only too well that Dad wasn’t the easiest to work for, but he said Jac was a good worker. Plus, he made a refreshing change from all the bloody women around the farm, he half-joked.
I pulled the quad up.
The outside of their place was lined with pots of pink geraniums and Buddhist prayer flags. Inside was as colourful too, with bright crocheted blankets and tie-dyed cushions that Callista had made herself.
I always felt much happier there than at the farm.
Callista was doing yoga naked on a mat behind the caravan. Neither of us raised an eyebrow. We’d seen it all before. Plenty of times.
“See ya tomorrow, Jac.”
Jac hopped off the back of the bike.
“Ya doin’ anything tonight?”
“Making tea. Avoiding Dad ‘til he goes out or passes out. Whichever comes first.”
Jac shrugged. His mother. My father.
“How about meeting up at the cottage?”
I pulled a face.
We’d been there a few times, but not since the time we drank too much cider and he’d kissed me.
“I’m not sure.”
It had made things super-awkward between us for a good while until eventually, I’d told him it was all a huge mistake, a big regret on my part.
We were just friends after. But, I’d often wondered what would have happened if I’d have told him the truth. That I thought about that kiss every day. There was no way at the time, though, that I was going to be another one of Jac Jones’ conquests.
It feels ironic now, when I think about that. I should have trusted my gut.
“Come on, Annie,” Jac persuaded me. “We’re not little kids anymore. You’re off to uni soon, and I’m… hey, you’re my best mate, I need to talk to you. It’s important.”
I caved in.
“Okay. But no cider.”
His cheeky grin back at me made my heart thump even harder.
I remember feeling so nervous about meeting him that evening. Perhaps, deep down, I suspected what was going to happen? In retrospect, it had been building up; him and me. No way, were we ever purely friends. And, I was praying something would happen too, even though the powerful feelings I had for him scared me.
I put on my new denim shorts, a vest top with a cute shirt hanging loosely around it. I wanted to look good, without him realising I’d made an effort. The humiliation of being rejected would have been too much to bear.
“I’m off out,” I called to Mam as I passed through the kitchen. “Dad’s had his lasagne and there’s a plate for you in the oven.”
“Thanks, love.”
She’d just come in from a busy shift at the hospital, and the theme tune of her favourite soap was playing on the television in the kitchen. Both of us avoided the living room. I’d learned the hard way not to disturb Dad when he was tanked up.
I was glad to be escaping soon, and I honestly wasn’t sure if I’d come back.
In the end, I didn’t.
From the footpath, I saw Jac sitting on the garden wall by the whitewashed cottage. A bag by his side.
“What you got there? Ah, no! Please don’t tell me you’ve brought cider?”
I landed a playful thump on his back and snatched the bag off him.
He wrestled it back, and then took the large front door key from my hand, opening the bright-red cottage door.
“You sure you wanna sit in here?” I grumbled, rubbing my nose to relieve the peppery itchiness triggered by the sooty air.
“It’s lovely out. Why d’you wanna sit in this damp place?”
He retrieved a box of matches from the bag.
“It’ll be better once I get a fire going.”
Soon, Jac had a small collection of dry sticks alight in the old stove. The flames crackled as the fire took hold. The air in the cottage quickly lifted, and the thick stone walls started to heat. It began to feel cosy.
We sat on an ancient chesterfield sofa. There were cushions and an old Welsh woollen blanket. The place was still furnished as my uncle had left it. It had been rented out a few times over the years, but no one stayed long. Callista said she preferred the static.
Opening his backpack, Jac revealed his swag.
“Oh Jesus, Jac. Is that Cal’s elderberry wine? Even Dad won’t touch that stuff.”
“Chicken.”
Rising to the challenge, I fished out the two tin mugs that he’d stashed in the bag.
Sitting, huddled up together on the scratched green leather sofa, we drank Callista’s potent homebrew, chatting and laughing about people from school.
And still, he said nothing. Even though I could sense his mood darkening, growing more pensive.
“This is great.”
Shifting to face me, that curious look had come over him again. My eyes met his, and I shuddered. But I held his gaze, emboldened by the wine, enjoying the spark that always crackled between us like the sticks in the fire. I was pretty certain this time, he was feeling it too.
“What’s up, Jac? You’ve been acting weird today.”
He gazed into my eyes but didn’t answer.
His fingers lightly caressed my cheek. His arm encircled me, pulling us closer.
“You’re the only one for me, Annie.”
As I tried to comprehend what that meant, his lips grazed softly against mine. They felt warm and familiar.
The kiss deepened.
This is what I’d been longing for. My stomach flipped. New thrilling emotions, as I sensed the passion for him rising within me, stirring me in a way that only he ever made happen.
And I felt his hands on me, as we kissed, tentatively exploring my vest top. His mouth moving to my neck and ear, flooding me with such lust it drove me on too. My hands touched his skin, grazing the contours of his chest underneath his t-shirt.
He pulled it off.
“Jac!”
“Annie, d’ya wanna stop?”
“No.”
Nevertheless, my words slipped out nervously as he began where he’d left off, trailing his mouth along my collarbone.
“I just don’t want it to be like last time.”
He stopped.
“Annie, we were both confused back then. But I’ve wanted this for a long time.”
“You have?”
“Yeah.”
“And you?”
I can’t lie.
“Yeah. Me too.”
“No regrets this time, then?”
I quivered, overcome.
“No. No regrets.”
> His forehead touched mine.
“The time wasn’t right before.”
“It is now?”
“It has to be.”
We kissed again, his hands removing my shirt, my top, unhooking my bra.
“Annie, have you ever…?” he whispered huskily.
I felt my cheeks burn up. His bare chest was enough of a distraction, but now this.
I hadn’t. And he knew it.
“D’ya wanna?”
I kissed him deeply in affirmation.
“Tell anyone you popped my cherry and I’ll tell everyone your full name, Jacaranda Jones.”
He winced, and I covered my breasts with my arm.
He moved it gently away.
“You’re so beautiful, Annie. Let me see you, properly.”
He put his lips to my skin. My arm, my shoulder, the nape of my neck, my back.
“What are these?”
I tensed up, suddenly self-conscious as his mouth found the deeply indented marks on my shoulder blade where the belt buckle had caught and dug deep into my flesh.
I shook my head. Tears were threatening to well up.
“It’s okay. Don’t be ashamed, Annie. But, you gotta get out of there. Promise me, you will?”
Placing the blanket and cushions on the floor by the stove fire, he took me by the hand down onto them. And lying there together, he steered me with him into uncharted waters.
It was very late when we finally made our way back across the fields, our fingers entwined tightly together.
The moon was high in the sky, its full light eerily peaceful. I remember thinking about what we’d done; a surge of new emotions racing through me.
He walked me to the farmhouse door, then pulled me close to him for one long, knowing kiss.
“I’ll never forget tonight, Annie. It’s a promise between us. Trust me.”
“I do,” I replied breezily, trying to play down everything I felt for him. “See ya tomorrow.”
He kissed me passionately as if he never wanted to let me go.
I held his face and brought my lips to his, one last time.
Tearing myself away from his magnetic arms, I left him standing on the doorstep.
And I snuck up to bed, wrapped in blissful smugness, completely unaware that by morning he’d be gone.
Waiting for me as the dawn broke, propped up by the front door, was an A4 envelope. Inside, was the lapwing perfectly sketched, and a letter.
I was his soulmate, he said. He loved me. But he had to go. He’d joined the army, and he wasn’t coming back.
Callista dealt with me that day too.
And the poor lapwing. It lay strewn across my bedroom floor in soggy ripped-up fragments, alongside his shredded words.
The train begins to slow down. It’s the end of the line. As far west as you can get without ending up in the Irish Sea.
People are beginning to shift in their seats, getting their stuff together, putting on their coats.
But, I sit tight.
My heart is thumping, and I feel like I might vomit.
I’m about to see him again.
CHAPTER 6
---------✸---------
I sneak a sideways glance at him as we sit alongside each other in the Land Rover. I'm trying to act casual, and failing miserably.
It’s been an awkward first meet up, and then a mad dash through the freezing rain. And I can sense his eyes still on me.
“What you staring at?”
“Nothing. Sorry; it’s odd, that’s all… seeing you after all this time. You’re looking well.”
What does ‘well’ mean?
“I’m looking like a drowned rat, more like.”
My emotions are all over the place, and I’m quelling the instinct rising up in me to bolt.
Of course, he's different now.
He’s filled into his height, and he’s broad and much more muscular. And he has stubble. It suits him. Gives him that sexy just-got-out-of-bed look.
I check myself. What am I doing?
I venture another glance his way, and his mouth curls.
“What?”
“Your accent. You sound almost English.”
“Hmph.”
I take my soggy coat off and place it on my knee, right next to the man I’ve been avoiding for so long.
The rain batters onto the windscreen, and we’re both sitting awkwardly; half-drenched, shivering, unsure of what to say.
Twelve years apart is a long time. And Callista’s right. He has changed.
We both have.
He switches the wipers on full speed and takes an old tea-towel to the steamed-up windows. Then, turning on the ignition, he sticks the Land Rover into reverse, and I catch him sneaking another peek at me as he checks his rear-view and side mirrors.
“Your hair. It’s different. Smoother.”
“It’s called straighteners, Jac.”
That sounded stuck-up.
“Bet it’s curling in all directions, like it used to do,” I add, trying to soften what I’d said.
“I liked it that way.”
We drive in sticky silence through the town, then out onto the open road towards the hills.
“Glyn? How’d it happen?” I finally pipe up.
No one’s told me the details, and I couldn’t ask Mam when I phoned.
“He hung himself off the beam in the shed.”
“And Mam? How’s she?”
“The police stayed with her most of yesterday. She’s holding up. Starting to get calls from neighbours.”
I stare out of the window.
“Thank you, Jac.”
It pierces the tension between us.
“What for?”
His voice sounds gravelly.
“For picking me up today. For always going out of your way to help them both. For sending Callista ‘round to look after me last night.”
The lump in my throat makes it hard to talk.
Stretching across, he presses my hand, his eyes still on the road.
His touch shocks me; I recoil on reflex, and he fixes it firmly onto the steering wheel, focussing on the road.
“Don’t thank me,” he utters gruffly. “Your mam asked me to call Cal. And anyway, I’m your parents’ tenant and they’ve been good to me.”
He’s slapped me down. He’s very clear. He’s helped me as an obligation to them.
We switch to farm talk. Safer ground.
"How's the stock?"
“I’m up to a thousand ewes now.”
“Not bad.”
“Yeah, it’s double what I had last year. And with better fencing, reseeding and rotation, I think I can double it again. How many other ex-squaddies would have a chance like this?”
“Sounds like you’ve got it all figured out.”
“Only when it comes to sheep.”
Momentarily, his eyes move off the road and onto me.
Dark and unfathomable, the same as before.
He can still stir me in ways he has no idea about, and my nerves jangle the whole journey back to the farm.
Mam is waiting at the front door as the Land Rover pulls up onto the yard. I’m sure that she’s been watching out for our arrival.
I hold my breath.
“It’ll be alright, Annie.”
His gentle voice makes my pulse race, and I quickly get out of the cab.
“Thanks again for the lift.”
◆◆◆
Jac watched Annie as she got out of the Land Rover.
The rain was petering out, and the yard was strewn with shiny puddles from the heavy downpour. Even wet from the rain, Annie was stunning.
This Annie was a far cry from the motorbike-riding tomboy he’d known before. London had rubbed off on her. Her smooth highlighted hair, and her manicured nails. That expensive-looking cashmere sweater she was wearing. He’d noticed how perfectly it fitted around the contours of her breasts. And the pair of tight jeans she had on. His eyes had feasted appreciat
ively on the way they hugged her shapely curves.
There was no denying it, this new polished Annie looked fantastic.
He climbed out of the cab to give her a hand with her things.
Stowed away behind his seat, was a plastic bag full of the unopened letters he’d written to her. He’d asked Maureen for them that morning. They’d sat on the dresser waiting for her to read them for a decade. It was too late now.
But still, he couldn’t leave things like this.
“Come and see me. At the cottage.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
He caught the hint of a smirk on her lips. She remembered.
“Just tea or coffee this time. Scout’s honour.”
She returned him a sassy smile and met his gaze with a confidence that she’d not had before.
“Jac Jones, you were never a Boy Scout.”
It was still there.
His heart bounced as they stood transfixed by each other. The air sizzling between them. Neither of them willing to look away.
“Annie!”
She screwed her nose up a fraction and gave Jac a smile. Then, rushing across the yard to find Maureen, she dropped her bag onto the wet concrete and hugged her mother tightly.
Maureen, in turn, held on to Annie, not letting her go.
There were no words to end their embrace, just the lightest touch of her mother’s hand on Annie’s face, as she beckoned her inside.
Driving away, Jac watched through the mirror as Annie disappeared with Maureen into the farmhouse.
Before the door closed behind them, he was sure that she’d turned to watch his Land Rover go.
◆◆◆
“I’m very sorry about your father.”
“Thank you. Come on in.”
I hold the door open, but the scruffy-looking detective remains fixed on the front doorstep. I’m not sure if he’s checking me out, or if he thinks I might be a vampire inviting him over the threshold to steal his soul. Something is holding him back.
“When did you get here?”
“Yesterday.”
“You’ve got company?”
He gestures at the two cars parked up by the house.
“Is now a good time to talk?”
“It’s fine. I think having people visit is helping Mam.”
Ellis nods. He understands how close the community is around here. Mainly farming families.