by Nell Grey
“Alright. See ya, bro.”
Turning towards the exit, Sion began battling his way out of there, towards his taxi home.
Jac jostled his way back over to the table with his tray of shots held high. Then, with the group of girls, they began slamming them down together.
As a fourth round was being bought, taking the tall girl’s hand, Jac moved with her into a booth where they made-out until her friends came to find her.
The club was closing.
Staggering a little uneasily, arm in arm, they made their way back with the group to a student flat, a couple of streets behind the seafront.
“This is me.”
The scruffy-looking four-storey tenement was typical student digs.
Empty spirit bottles on one of the front window ledges. A large faded Welsh flag suspended from another. And the lights were all still on, even though they were halfway to dawn.
As the other girls wobbled through the door, Jac drew the blonde back to him.
“Wanna come up?” she whispered into his mouth.
“I was hoping you’d say that.”
Jac followed her unsteady climb up the stairs.
The tequila was beginning to wear off by now.
Sitting at the kitchen table under the glare of a strip-light, Jac could see that she looked young. Twenty? Twenty-two at the most.
It sobered him some more.
She made him a coffee, splashing milk and coffee granules everywhere in the process.
She was shitfaced.
Plonking it down beside him and sloshing coffee onto the table, she then boldly straddled him, pulling her blonde hair back off her shoulders as she wriggled onto him on the kitchen chair.
Her mouth drunkenly found his and her tongue hungrily explored as she kissed him hard.
What the Hell was he doing?
“Jo?” he said, suddenly pulling away.
“Jen.”
“Yeah, Jen.”
He moved her hand off him.
“I’m sorry, but I’ve gotta go. I’ve got a taxi to catch.”
She pouted at him.
“You can stay if you want?”
“Another time. I’ve gotta go.”
Rising from the chair, he grabbed his coat and darted from there as quickly as he dared; down the tenement stairs to the street below and into the cold night air.
Closing the door, he slipped swiftly away, until there were at least two streets between them.
Then he stopped.
It was half-past four.
He walked back to outside the club and tried the last two taxis still in the rank. But none of them would take him. They shook their heads and pulled up their side windows. It was too far.
Pulling his coat up as high as the zip would go, Jac wandered the deserted, dark streets listening out for a party. Survival training, he joked to himself. If he found one, he’d go up there, get warm, crash out on a settee.
But, by now even the students were in bed.
The March wind blasted in hard off the sea, battering his cheeks.
Jees it was cold!
He should have stayed with Jo.
Damn her! Annie had killed it for him.
He couldn’t have her, and he didn’t want anyone else.
He was screwed.
There was irony in that, he realised, as he found a bench in a bus shelter and tried to huddle himself warm.
He was a tough army boy. He’d lain in a fox hole in Sangin, he was sure he would survive a bitter March night in Aberystwyth. But how long could he survive living on the farm with Annie around?
Annie, who only thought the worst of him.
Alun had sought him out in The Cross Keys a couple of evenings ago. Flown a couple of ideas by him. He’d have time to chew those over some more now.
Perhaps it would be best to cut and run? Start afresh somewhere new, far away from here.
It had been a mistake coming home.
Leaving a message on Sion’s phone, he curled himself up tightly. It was going to be a shiveringly cold few hours until the first cafés opened.
CHAPTER 15
-----------✸----------
It’s a week later when I make it back to the farm in Trusty Rusty. And the old girl’s loaded up to the brim with boxes, bags and bin liners. The sum total of my London life.
My apartment is now stripped bare. The furniture’s been sold, and the keys are back with the letting agent.
I’m done with London. And my old career.
I’m ready for a new start.
And on my last evening there, I sent a brief resignation email to Lisa. I didn’t go into any details, and despite Callista’s pep talks, I held firm on my decision not to name Seb.
I haven’t in any way got it all figured out, but after sitting in a London café one long afternoon, trying to decide what to do, the truth screamed at me hard.
It was a question of geography, after all.
My life’s no longer there. It belongs, if I’m being honest, with my heart, back in Wales.
And so, with much trepidation, I’ve come home.
To do what?
I’m not exactly sure yet. The rent for the farm will keep me afloat, but I’ll need a challenge to keep me busy and I’ve been bouncing some ideas around.
“Wow!”
I put my keys on the hook and take a good look around, noting all the changes. The kitchen’s been transformed.
The old wallpapered walls have been stripped back and painted a light cream. The pine units have been painted too, a pigeon grey. It makes the space modern yet homely. And the door handles have been swapped too. They’re now copper.
“You like it?”
Sion appears with paint flecked across his face.
“I love it.”
“And I’ve made a start on the lounge.”
I run my hand over the wooden countertops. They’ve been sanded back to a pale butchers-block finish.
“I can’t believe you’ve done all this, Sion. It’s amazing.”
“Jac did that.”
My eyes widen.
“He did?”
“Yeah; and picked the colours and the handles.”
“I’m glad I kept you both busy.”
“Been on it non-stop, apart from Sunday.”
“Hungover?”
“Hmm. Went out with the boys Saturday night to Aber.”
“Jac go too?”
Sion clears his throat.
“D’ya wanna hand with your stuff?”
He takes a look at the jam-packed truck.
“Travelling light?”
“I’m moving back home.”
It feels so good.
◆◆◆
For the next week, I busy myself by sorting the house out. Unpacking my stuff, buying new curtains, a rug for the lounge, and undertaking the grim task of clearing out my parents’ things. It’s a mammoth task, with several trips to the charity shops and the rubbish tip, but it’s also cathartic. I go to the solicitors too and start the process of probate.
It’s confirmed. The farm is mine.
“Jac okay?” I ask Sion, as I help him paint the stairs. “I’ve not seen hide nor hair of him all week.”
“He’s busy getting the shed ready for lambing.”
Sion's making excuses for Jac, but his continued absence makes me feel nauseous.
At first, when I heard about him helping with the kitchen, I thought that I might be forgiven for what I said. But as I haven’t seen him even once since I came home, I’m now convinced that I’ve trashed any chance that we might have of being together.
As I brush, I chew it over some more.
What if the kitchen was a subtle message from him? Helping me to sell the farm. To get out of here?
“Tell me about the army,” I ask Sion, trying to push those fears away.
“What d’ya wanna know?”
“Did you enjoy it?”
“I dunno if ‘enjoy’ is the right wor
d. There were fantastic times, and one or two moments of sheer Hell.”
He falls silent and focuses his concentration on his roller.
“When did you meet Jac?”
“Day one. In the Welsh Guards. He’s always had my back.”
“He said about you both having to clean the toilets with a toothbrush?”
“When did he tell you that?”
I feel myself going bright red. It was in his first letter.
“So, you were in combat together too?”
“Yeah. Afghanistan twice. Had a couple of sticky moments. I got stuck in a building with snipers on me. Jac’s truck hit an IUD.”
“Were either of you hurt?”
“No. We both lived to tell the tale. Helped us get on, to be honest. We both got selected to try out for the special forces after that.”
Special forces? I had no idea Jac was an elite soldier.
“Do you miss it?”
“Honestly? Yes, I do. When you’re in the army, everything’s structured. When you leave, you’ve suddenly gotta fend for yourself.”
“I guess Jac’s got the farming. What about you?”
“I was a bit lost for the first few months. It took time for me to adjust... but I... uhh... I retrained.”
I get the vibe that Sion’s not too comfortable talking about himself.
“Have you spoken to Jac since you got back?”
“He knows where I am if he wants to talk.”
“Funny that. He said the same thing to me.”
“Yeah well, that’s the problem. Neither of us will back down. Like, ever.”
He likes you, Annie. I’ve known Jac for years and I’ve never seen him like this about a woman.”
“Hmph.”
“Talk to him. His moodiness is doin’ my head in.”
“He knows where I am,” I repeat, focusing on my glossing.
No way am I going grovelling to him, if he can’t even be bothered to come and say hello.
“But, can you say thank you from me, for the work he did in the kitchen?”
Sion shakes his head in exasperation.
“I’ve got a better idea. Why don’t you tell him yourself?”
◆◆◆
I’m surprised a couple of days later when Alun, my next-door neighbour, pulls up on the yard in his new Range Rover. I haven’t seen him since my mother’s funeral when he’d said again that he’d be calling.
And now he’s here.
Peeking at him through the window as he marches purposefully towards the front door, it doesn’t look like he’s making a social call.
He pulls a face as he steps into the refurbished farmhouse.
“Someone’s been busy.”
He scans the kitchen approvingly.
“You’re safe. The walls and woodwork have just dried.”
I can see him making the calculations in his head. How much the place is worth. With, then without, the land.
Clearing my throat slightly, I draw his attention back to me.
“I’ve been dying to spruce the place up for years.”
“Getting ready to sell?”
“No. I’m keeping the farm.”
I say it firmly and his eyes meet mine, staring at me hard for just a second as if I’m spoiling his plans.
He looks good. Successful. I take in his expensive country-gent designer clothing, and the new top-of-the-range Range Rover parked in the yard.
But, I can’t shake off the shadows of the past. I shudder. Lizard Man.
“You cold?”
He’s being perfectly charming and polite. I’ve made him tea and we sit in the kitchen at the big pine table, now scrubbed clean with a bowl of fruit on it.
“You’ve not been tempted by the money, then?”
He thrusts into the real meat of the conversation, cutting to the chase.
“You could get a fair bit for a place like this.”
“No. I’m staying.”
Alun’s face twitches.
“But, what about your job in London?”
I don’t want to go into that with him.
“I’ve left. Time for a new start, back here.”
He sips his tea and stares at me intensely.
“And what you gonna do when Jac goes?”
“What?”
Taking in my blank stare, he continues, smugly.
“Sorry, Annie, I thought you knew... He’s asked me to buy his sheep off him. We’ve agreed a price.”
“When?”
I'm summoning everything I have within me to retain my composure, although I’m certain that Alun’s noticed.
“He’ll be gone by June.”
I gulp my tea.
“If you’re interested, I’d like to rent the land after?”
I shrug noncommittally, my mind still reeling.
“Sure.”
Now he’s said what he came to say, Alun rises to leave. He has no time to waste.
“How about we talk it over again after you’ve had time to think it through? Over dinner?”
I nod, numbly.
“I’ll be in touch.”
Alun’s car has barely left the farmyard, when I grab my coat and hastily leave the house, scouring the place in search of Jac.
I scan the yard, then rush through the old stone sheds.
He’s not there and the tractor’s out.
The lambing season will be starting any day now. Then, he’ll be working around the clock. I was going to offer to help him, but after Alun’s bombshell, everything’s up in the air.
And if Alun’s right, things are more than a little broken between us. Unfixable even.
But, I can break this stupid silence.
I need, at least, to have it out with him. And apologise for what I said.
I spot him over in the field we call Windy Corner.
He’s by the tractor, in the middle of the mud, forking the silage bale around the feeder. It’s soggy and boggy as I stomp across the field, my wellies squelching as I soldier on over the sodden ground.
“Jac!” I call out, as I approach him.
He carries on.
Perhaps, he hasn’t heard me. Perhaps, he has. He’s working with purpose. Determined. Head down.
“Jac Jones!” I shout over to him again.
I know that he’s heard me, and I’m furious with him. He can’t ignore me again.
Even his dog is running over to see me.
This time, he does have the courtesy to stop and glance up. Hallelujah!
I pat Jess.
“What d’ya want, Annie?”
His hostile tone dampens my spirits worse than the rain.
“I’m sorry,” I sniff, swallowing a huge lump of pride.
“I’m sorry for what I said. I was wrong.”
He stares at me coldly, and then starts to work the silage again, ignoring me.
I wait there a good while as he carries on. The rain stings my face as I stare at the bleak, bare fields. Only the tough sedge tussocks brave the barren ground.
And I stand there, still. Holding out. Expecting him to stop. Watching him forking the feed furiously. Deliberately and defiantly he ignores me until it’s too uncomfortable any longer for me to stay.
He’s punishing me.
Humiliated, hot-faced and defeated; at last, it’s my turn to break.
Fighting back the tears, and holding my head up high, I squelch my way quickly back towards the farmhouse.
It’s over.
It’s only the memory of that kiss; the electricity that’s so thrilling between us, that makes me even consider a final throw of the dice.
That, and Callista and Sion’s assurances that he more than likes me. Whatever that means. They didn’t hear me shooting my mouth off, accusing him of being a gold-digger.
Argh! I scream into the wind.
I’ve only one option left, and if this doesn’t work, then I need to give it up and let him go.
Getting back to the farmhouse, I find a pad
of paper and an envelope in the kitchen dresser drawer. Sitting down at the table, it’s now my turn to write him a letter.
It takes a while, and plenty of failed attempts, until I’m happy with the words. Sealing the envelope with a kiss of hope, I go about collecting up all the screwed-up balls of paper from off the floor around my chair. The whole thing has taken ages.
Before I can change my mind, I take it down to the cottage, posting it through the letterbox before he gets back. After that, I’ll wait for him to come to me.
And wait, I do. All evening.
I’ve had a shower, done my hair, even put on some make-up. And there I am, like Miss flippin’ Havisham, sitting alone in the kitchen, fidgeting, flitting restlessly to the window, watching furtively for a flashlight on the yard.
I try to settle down with a book, but I can’t concentrate. My ears are still on alert for a knock at the door.
But, there’s nothing.
And the call that I’ve waited for all evening never comes.
Eventually, giving up, I retreat miserably to bed.
My heart aches and I feel empty and rejected for a second time.
◆◆◆
Sion came in as Jac was taking sausages out of the oven. It had become an odd domestic arrangement, with Jac cooking dinner for Sion most evenings. Sion repaid him now and again with groceries and meals in the Cross Keys, but Jac was happy to cook. He liked doing it and had to make food for himself anyway, he told Sion.
Sion grabbed two beers from the fridge and prised off the tops.
“Busy day at the office, dear?”
Sion passed Jac a bottle.
“You see Annie?”
“No. Why?”
“You two are driving me nuts. She’s sulking up there, and you’re moping down here. If you don’t do something soon, she’ll be gone, mate.”
Jac said nothing as he mashed boiled potatoes and swede together vigorously in the pan with some butter.
Since the deal he’d done with Alun, he’d assiduously avoided seeing her. And he’d been surprised when she turned up by the feeder. She never backed down.
And she’d apologised.
He’d made her pay for what she said to him, all right. He’d been a bastard to her. There were no other words for how he’d behaved.
Jees! She’d looked so beautiful too, with her golden hair blowing wildly around her wind-stung cheeks. And those brilliant green eyes of hers, sparkling angrily as he carried on with his work, punishing her.