‘I don’t want to argue with you. But I need you to put yourself in my shoes, Thomasina. If this was your mum or Pops, if you felt you had no choice, would you leave them?’
‘I don’t know,’ she answered truthfully, calming now and weighed down by the reality of their situation. It felt hopeless.
‘If they had absolutely no one else who was going to take care of them, keep them from harm, if they had always stuck around for you, would you walk when they were most vulnerable?’
She thought of the day Jonathan left and that sensation in her throat as though she were being strangled, as if her brother’s adventure came at the cost of her own aspirations. She stayed silent and they both drew breath until Grayson again broke the ice.
‘I’m lying here staring at the blobs on the ceiling. When I was a kid I used to imagine they were mountain peaks where tiny, tiny people anchored ropes and hammered nails just to get a foothold. I understood this need to gain purchase. That was my whole life, trying to keep upright. But here I am in my mid-twenties and it feels just the same. I feel as if I’m sliding backwards into that life of nothingness, back into the hamster wheel where I ran for years, grabbing for anything solid, stationary, to hold on to, but it was always just out of reach . . .’ She heard him swallow. ‘And then you came along and you changed everything.’
‘Yes.’ She spoke calmly but resolutely. ‘Well, you’re not a kid any more, Grayson. And I might not ever have climbed a mountain, but I know that to do so takes courage. It’s not only about anchoring ropes and hammering in nails to get a foothold; it’s about the belief that you can do it, or are at least trying to.’
She knew this applied to her too. It was all about finding the courage to make the change.
‘And you’re right, Thomasina, beautiful, beautiful Thomasina: you deserve more. You deserve better than to be caught up in this bloody pantomime. The truth is, I don’t know how to break free. I don’t know if I can. But truthfully’ – he took a second – ‘I don’t know if you can either.’
She wiped her nose on her sleeve and tried to control the tears that threatened. It was one thing to imagine the two of them ending, but quite another to feel it. Despite her mantra that it was for the best, trying to mirror Pops’s bravery, the words made no allowance for the fact that it hurt. It hurt a lot. ‘I . . . I want to, Grayson, more than you know. I want to, and I have to believe I will. I just need to find a way.’ She looked down at Buddy, her boy, who now placed his big paw on her thigh. ‘And I want you to know that I will always be grateful for how wonderful you made me feel. You made me feel beautiful for the first time ever, and that has changed me. I wish you well, and nothing but good things, because that’s what you deserve. Because you are wonderful.’ Her voice cracked and she bowed her head, letting fat tears run down her cheeks and over the misshapen mouth that he had kissed. ‘Never forget that. And the time we had together was the very best in my whole life. You made me feel like a different person, a person I want to be – a person who can achieve more. These are the things I know. I love you. I do. I love you. Goodbye, Grayson Potts.’
The sound of his crying became their wordless farewell.
She was unsure how long she sat on the sofa in quiet thought, but it was long enough for her tears to wane, the ache in her chest to subside and her thoughts to calm. She wiped her palms on her jeans and sniffed, placing the phone in her pocket. With one hand on Buddy’s head, she rubbed her sore eyes.
‘Enough tears now, Buddy. Enough. I don’t need tears. I need plans. I need to figure out what to do next.’
These are the things I know . . .
I know my name is Thomasina Waycott.
I know I’m not like everyone else.
I know I was born a little bit different, as if someone held the instructions upside down or lost a part when they opened the box.
I also know that words are powerful things and they have weight.
I know certain words have sat in my stomach for as long as I can remember and weighed so much that when I was in a crowd or I met someone new they pulled my shoulders down and made my head hang forward so I could only look at the floor.
Tard.
Fuckwit.
Rabbitmouth.
But not any more.
I know I want to see other countries.
I know I want a boyfriend.
I know I want my own kitchen.
I know I want to paint my nails instead of having them caked in mud.
I know I want to own clothes that are pretty.
I know I want to own sparkly red shoes that I will never get to wear but I can look at whenever I want . . .
What I don’t know is how different I am, and I also don’t know how I can find this out.
And I know that some days I’m happy and on other days I’m sad, but that’s the same for everyone, isn’t it?
FOURTEEN
It hadn’t felt much like Christmas. Their last one at Waycott Farm, as the sale drew nearer, and the second one without Jonathan at the table. Her brother’s gift-wrapped scent bottle had arrived, and she had been grateful for it. The decorations on the tree and the cut boughs of holly that traditionally sat on top of the mantelpieces brought her no joy. Carols on the radio did no more than irritate. In truth, it all felt a little pointless. She had got drunk with Shelley and both had ended up crying on the sofa in the flat above the pub, drinking vodka cocktails until they were sick in the tub where Daphne had once laid her feathery head. Yes, Christmas this year was no more than a red-ringed date on the calendar. There was no flutter of anticipation the night before the big day at the prospect of the fat, bearded man squeezing down the fireplace and leaving her new slippers, bath salts, thick socks and chocolate. Even the prospect of overeating and then pausing only to walk to the kitchen to re-stock and eat some more held no allure. But then, for the last few weeks, seven weeks to be precise, since that last phone call with Grayson, Thomasina had felt as if the joy had been sucked out of just about everything.
And it was all because she was stuck.
Her dreams of travel were, she realised, near impossible without the cold hard cash for a ticket, and her ideas for a chicken-focussed business felt a little foolish in the light of no enquiries and without the money to tell the world she was here. She struggled to think of a plan B, but her cogs kept turning, knowing a solution was out there somewhere.
For the first time in her life she found it hard to fall asleep and even harder to stay asleep. The problem was threefold. Firstly, her parents were on edge, worrying now about her mental as well as her physical condition, in a state of agitation she could never have envisaged for them in their own home. If they realised she had caught one of their furtive glances, they would break instantly into false and crooked smiles, as if this lifting of the lips might make everything feel better, reassure her that everything was going to be okay . . . It might have worked when she was little, but right now it had the opposite effect. The three of them were reticent, unusually polite with each other and a little ill at ease.
Secondly, life was tough without Emery’s labour in the cold winter, when the ground was hard and unforgiving; frost turned the softest mud to iron and darkness fell ever earlier in the cold bite of a sharp wind. The Waycotts were worked to the bone. The chores took longer, work was harder, the lifting heavier. Thomasina’s time with her chickens was minimal – it was all about getting through her list of jobs without the luxury of being able to linger with them or, God forbid, have a dance. She suspected that her parents, like herself, fell face down on to their mattress at night in a state of near collapse, only to be woken what felt like a short time later by the pipping of the alarm that was set a little ahead of the needs of the animals. And in her case, she was lucky if sleep was possible at all.
Thirdly, and finally, Thomasina was in a state of grief, bewildered by the longing she felt for Grayson Potts. Her thoughts whirred on an endless loop about all the things they might have done differently. A
gain and again she saw herself saying goodbye to him at the entrance of Barts Hospital, unbeknownst to her the last time she would see him; holding him tightly, kissing his face and reassuring him that his mum would be fine, that it would all blow over quickly, and he would soon be hotfooting it back to Austley Morton, where they would continue to get to know each other in a state of bliss. And although a little distracted, he had held her tightly, and she could still remember the feel of his arms around her, his fingers digging in. She had clung to him, happy in the knowledge that their parting was not a chosen thing but a forced thing, he was simply doing his duty, and still she had believed, deep down, that their future was rosy. She had, in spite of the serious nature of his mother’s condition, sung loudly all the way back to Waycott Farm from Bristol Parkway Station with a kernel of happiness in the centre of her gut.
It was a funny thing, but that evening after she had arrived home, as she stood in the lower paddock with her hens, it was as if a black shadow crossed her mind, as surely as a dark cloud blotting out the sun. She had had a bad feeling and time had made it come true. She was once again alone and struggling with how to find a way out. Her loneliness now was topped with rejection and the fact that Mr Grayson Potts was not the man she had hoped he would be. Her thoughts ran rampant and she wondered if he might have met another girl – someone like bloody Melinda Liebermann, a girl with a pretty mouth who deserved a good man like him. Maybe a girl his mother actually liked . . .
‘You got the supplement for the cows, my lovely?’ her mum asked, blowing out clouds with every breath into the chill morning air. She rolled up the sleeves of her coveralls as she prepared to haul the wheelbarrow full of shit and straw to the other side of the yard.
‘Yes.’ Thomasina held up the wide plastic bottle, ready to shake the contents into their mash.
‘How long, Thomasina?’
The question caught her off guard. ‘How long what?’
‘How long are you going to stay morose, fed up and lost in thought?’
‘Probably forever,’ she answered quickly, without any hint of irony.
‘Oh good. Well, at least I’ve got that to look forward to.’
‘I can’t help it, Mum. I feel as though everything is unravelling. I’m making plans in my head, but they all feel a little soured when I think that Grayson won’t be here to share them with me, by my side.’ She hated the spring of tears that seemed to be on tap these days. ‘I’m so disappointed. I really liked him.’
‘I know, love, and I don’t know if it helps, but Pops and I really liked him too. I got the feeling he would have benefitted from being part of this bonkers family.’
Thomasina nodded. ‘It’s true. I thought I loved him, and I thought he loved me too.’
‘Maybe he did. Maybe it’s not that simple.’
‘Yes, Mum – that’s why he’s chosen to stay in that shitty life in that shitty flat with his shitty mother! It’s such a waste, and so selfish of her. She’s robbing him of these years and he just can’t see it. And I’m supposed to carry on as if nothing has happened?’ She wiped at her tears, which now flowed freely. ‘I’m not hanging around for someone like that.’
‘It is a waste, my girl, but you’re also very tired and that makes everything feel ten times worse.’
‘We’re all tired!’ Thomasina sniffed.
‘True enough.’ Her mum paused. ‘I can’t wait for the sale to go through and then I think I’ll sleep for a thousand years, but there’s always the chance it won’t go through – things can and do go wrong, and if we’ve let things slide we’ll be in a worse position than before, so we plough on, literally.’
‘Yep.’ Thomasina sniffed again and rattled the supplement bottle in her hand.
‘Pops and I have been thinking, my love, and we agreed not to say anything, in case it all falls through – didn’t want to get your hopes up – but I think it might be good for you to know, might bolster your spirits.’ She paused again.
‘Good to know what?’ Thomasina was confused.
‘I never want you to think that we have taken your years.’
‘I know that.’ It’s just how it is, the lines between this job and this life are blurred . . .
Her mum continued. ‘And I know I need to let go and not worry about you so much. And so, if and when the sale on the farm completes, Pops and I want to buy you a ticket. It’s only with money you could have earned if things had been different, so think of it as though we’ve been saving it for you, but that’s what we’re going to do.’
‘I don’t get it, you’re going to do what?’ Thomasina had heard the word ‘ticket’ and her heart leapt accordingly, but she needed it restated in case she’d misunderstood.
‘We’re going to buy you a ticket, love, so you can go and see that big wide world beyond these fields and on the other side of the river.’
Thomasina felt the bubble of emotion fill her right up. ‘Are you being serious right now?’ She felt her pulse race and a smile split her face. It wasn’t only the thought of travelling that brought her such joy but the fact that her mum was encouraging her to go.
‘Deadly.’ Her mum held her gaze. ‘It’s what you want and it’s what you deserve.’
‘Oh my God! Mum! I don’t know what to say!’ She walked forward and took her mother in her arms, her mind racing and her heart thumping with joy. The news was enough to invigorate her tired limbs. ‘I can’t believe it, I can’t! Thank you!’
‘You deserve it, Thomasina: you have always worked so hard. Any idea where you might go?’ her mum whispered into her hair.
‘New York,’ she answered without hesitation. ‘I’m going to go to New York.’
‘Well, there’s a surprise.’
Thomasina laughed. ‘I’m going to go to New York, Mum! I’ll visit the sights, eat the food, walk in Central Park! I can’t wait! And then, when I come back, I can set up my business.’ This reminder that wonderful things lay ahead was the shot in the arm to get her fired up, and it felt good.
‘I’m happy you’re happy, but I don’t want you to get carried away. We need to secure the sale first, and there’s a danger—’
‘I know, I know,’ said Thomasina, cutting her short. ‘There’s a danger it might all fall through, but if it does, when the warmer weather comes and things are a little easier on the farm, I’ll set up my business and advertise it in Bristol. There are loads of people wanting to keep chickens in their backyard – I read about it. I can start up my business in the city. I don’t even need premises, just a van – and then I can save up while I get cheap digs somewhere.’
‘Sounds as if you have a plan.’
‘I do, Mum. I can set people up and teach them the basics and, no matter what you say, I’ve already got carried away!’ she whooped. ‘I’ve looked at the prices for my services and I can set an hourly fee but also buy all the equipment they might need, like a starter kit, and I can get it wholesale, with even more knocked off if I buy in bulk, and then I can charge my clients the retail price so I make money on that too. I’m also going to do the same with feed, bedding, medicines – everything! I shall print shopping lists and my customers can order from me, and I can deliver it regularly, making money on the products and on the delivery!’
‘Well, I was right about one thing. It’s certainly perked you up!’
‘It has.’ Thomasina smiled at the thought that this was the stepping stone she had been waiting for. A break in New York for a few weeks was the best thing she could imagine and, even if it didn’t work out, if there was no ticket from her parents, talking it out with her mum had given her the confidence that travel might be possible! And the irony was, it might be happening sooner than she figured because of Buttermore money – all thanks to greedy, envious Thurston and his idiot of a son, Tarran, and she had never loved them more. She laughed, wishing she could share this irony with Grayson, and then instantly missed him. It wouldn’t make losing the farm any easier, but it would sure be one hell of a diversion
. For her, it was so much more than the holiday of a lifetime. It was a marker, the realisation of a dream, quite some achievement . . . for a girl like her.
‘What’s so funny?’
‘Nothing, Mum. It’s exhaustion – it does strange things to you.’
Her mum closed her eyes and ran her hand over her face. ‘It does. I don’t know how much longer Pops can keep going. I’m just waiting to hear that the sale is nearly finalised. I’m worried about him.’
This was the first time her mum had ever directly expressed such a concern and it fired a fearful bolt of dread right through her.
‘Is he sick?’ Her smile faded. This was her worst fear: something happening to her beloved dad before he had a chance to retire, to get some time to himself and to rest his weary bones. She wanted more for him than a life of hard toil ending in death. There had to be a period of rest in between; otherwise, it all felt a bit bloody pointless. She felt an uncomfortable and uncharacteristic flare of anger at her brother, picturing him riding his horse towards that mountain-lined horizon with the sun on his back and a fat steak awaitin’ on the barbecue. It wasn’t fair.
‘Your father’s not sick.’
Thomasina’s relief at her mum’s words was instant.
‘But I can’t lie. He’s under enormous pressure – financial stress, as well as exhaustion and having to deal with—’ Her mum stopped short and clamped her mouth shut. The physical expression of her vocal slip-up would have been comical, were it not that she, Thomasina, was the cause.
‘Having to deal with losing Emery’s labour on the farm . . .’ Thomasina finished for her.
‘Yes, but it’s not your fault, love, and neither Pops nor I would have it any other way. We would rather work ourselves into the mud than have him around being so foul to you. And we could barely afford him anyway, always robbing Peter to pay Paul. You’re not to worry about it or feel guilty about it.’ Her tone was harsh, insistent. And it meant the world. ‘And as for that Mr Potts, you didn’t know him, Thomasina. Not really. You might have thought you did, but soft, sweet words have been spoken by many a man to get his way. You weren’t the first to fall for it and you won’t be the last. As I say, we liked him, we really did, but spending a few weeks in a whirlwind of lust and promises is very different from knowing in your heart that a person is for you, through the good and the bad, no matter what. That’s real, Thomasina. Nearly crying when it’s time to haul your weary bones out of bed for another day but knowing you wouldn’t have it any other way because you get to do it next to the man you love. That’s real.’
The Things I Know Page 26