by Lynda Page
He sharply interjected, ‘Cait! Will you for once let me finish what I want to say without assuming you know what it is?’
Her mouth snapped shut and her eyes widened in shock. Neil had never used this tone of voice to her before.
Taking advantage of the silence, he told her, ‘When I said I can’t go on with this any more you were right to think I meant with the wedding.’
Her jaw dropped and she stared at him for several seconds before she whispered, ‘You do want to call the wedding off?’
Without hesitation, he nodded. ‘Yes, I do. I’m sorry, Cait, I really am.’
She gazed at him a while longer before she gave a knowing laugh, patted him affectionately on the arm and told him, ‘Oh, sweetheart, you’re just suffering from wedding nerves, that’s all. All grooms suffer from them.’
She turned away from him and made to head for the door but he grabbed her arm. When she was facing him again, he said to her, ‘I’m not suffering from wedding nerves, Cait. I . . . I . . . well, there’s no easy way of putting this, but the truth is that I don’t want to marry you. I can’t see a happy future for me with you, Cait, it’s as simple as that.’
It was evident that this announcement had stunned her rigid. She stared open-mouthed at him again before she blustered, ‘Then why did you ask me to spend the rest of my life with you?’
He sighed heavily, raking one hand through his hair. ‘I didn’t ask you to, Cait.’
She looked stupefied. ‘Yes, you did. In the Chinese restaurant that Saturday night.’
He shook his head. ‘No, I didn’t. On the table near us a man proposed to his girlfriend, which we couldn’t help but overhear, and you said that you’d like to get married, which I took to mean one day, so I said that I would too, and have a couple of children, and you assumed from what I’d just said that I was proposing to you . . .’
Her mouth was opening and closing fish-like and she seemed dazed. ‘So . . . so why didn’t you put me right about my mistake?’
Neil was feeling mortally uncomfortable with the way this was going but knew he owed it to himself not to get cold feet now. ‘You never gave me the chance to. Next thing I knew you’d got the waiter to fetch a bottle of sparkling wine and were arranging for us to visit jewellery shops to buy an engagement ring – and you wouldn’t allow me a word in edgeways. It was like a roller-coaster after that. Everyone knew and the wedding was being planned and I didn’t know how to stop it!’
‘Well, we were in love. I didn’t see any point in waiting.’
He sighed heavily, hanging his head. He hadn’t the heart to hurt Cait further by telling her exactly how he felt about her. How claustrophobic it made him feel, the way she clung to him like a limpet whenever they were out together, as though afraid that if she let go of him he’d run off and leave her. He disliked the way she always thought she knew what he wanted better than he did; the way she strove constantly to please him, from the clothes she wore to the way she acted; how she hung on his every word. No matter how much affection he showed her, it never seemed to be enough for her and she constantly demanded more.
When they had first met, he’d enjoyed having a girlfriend who didn’t hide the fact she thought him god-like; clung to him as if afraid to let him go; decided what they would do whenever they went out so as to save him the headache. Despite his friends ribbing him that he was under her thumb, Neil felt he’d died and gone to heaven. But then, after her misinterpretation of the scene in the Chinese restaurant, Cait had not given him a chance to put her straight. He’d been swiftly introduced to her parents and with horror saw his own future yawn before him, a pale shadow of a man with a suffocating wife.
After being introduced to her parents, witnessing for himself how her mother doted on her father, pandered to his every whim, made decisions for him without consulting him as if he had no mind of his own, Neil could understand why Cait believed that was how marriage was conducted. And it had shocked him to witness the way her parents, her mother in particular, treated their daughter – with such indifference, coldness even. It was no wonder that she looked to him to supply all her emotional support as clearly she received none at home. But a marriage like that was not for him. He wanted one like his parents shared. Open and loving, each respecting the fact that the other had a mind of their own.
He’d lost count of the number of times he’d tried to tell Cait how he felt and end their relationship, but each time he managed to find an opportunity his courage failed him. Neil was a thoughtful young man and knew how hurt she’d be. But if he did not come clean with her now he might never be able to summon the courage again, and then he’d be stuck for life in a marriage that would be miserable for him.
Neil took a deep breath, lifted his head and looked her in the eye. His voice had a note of finality in it. ‘Please accept the fact that I don’t want to marry you, Cait. You’ll meet someone else who’ll love having the kind of wife you’ll make him, but what you’re offering is not for me.’ Having finally said his piece and well aware of the upset his announcement was causing, he felt a sudden desperate need to put some distance between them. He shouldered the door open and left her alone in the Vestry.
Her face ashen, Cait stared after him in horror. Her mind was unable to accept what had just transpired. Neil hadn’t ended their relationship, he couldn’t have. This was some sort of macabre joke . . . she was having a nightmare and would soon wake up. Apart from the fact that she loved him so very much, it was imperative that she should be married before her eighteenth birthday only a few weeks away or the consequences would be unbearable. And with that thought fear flooded her, so acute that she started to shake and her thoughts began to whirl. Neil’s words had been so final. She had worked so tirelessly hard since the moment she had met him and realised he was the one to make herself indispensable to . . . she had tried to become his perfect woman. But obviously she had failed. If she could find out in what way then maybe she could make amends. Surely their relationship was salvageable . . . there was still a chance that the wedding would go ahead. With hope rising in her, she made to chase after him but then wondered if it would be prudent to let him cool down for a while before she made any attempt at a reconciliation
She jumped as the door opened and her chief bridesmaid, Gina, came in. Cait had never been so glad to see her friend in all her life. Gina would advise her on how to handle this situation.
‘Oh, Gina, I so desperately need your . . .’
But before she could say another word, Gina blurted out, ‘Neil has just told us all that the wedding’s cancelled, Cait. He went off without explaining why. Couldn’t seem to get out of the church quick enough.’
Gina looked really upset, which Cait assumed was because she was concerned for her.
‘I hope I can still salvage the situation . . . it’s just nerves. I’m not sure of the right way to go about it, though, and I’d like your advice on whether I . . .’
Her face sulky, Gina cut in, ‘Oh! This means I won’t get to wear that lovely dress now, will I? I was hoping that Raymond might propose to me when he saw you two getting hitched. Anyway, I’d best tell the others there’s no point in hanging around here any longer. If we hurry, we can still get in at the skiffle club. See you tomorrow at work then.’
With that she spun on her heel and departed, leaving Cait staring after her.
For the second time in less than half an hour she had trouble accepting what had just happened. Gina was supposed to be her friend, to come to her aid when she was needed, but all she seemed to care about was that she wouldn’t get to wear her bridesmaid’s dress. And what struck Cait now was the fact that her friend hadn’t seemed a bit surprised that Neil had called off the wedding.
There had been far too many times in the past when Cait had felt alone in the world, but never more so than she did now. The tears came then, fast and furious, and she wept unashamedly, feeling utterly bereft. Then, after several minutes of miserable crying, a thought struck her. Wi
ping her face on the sleeve of her cardigan, she pondered on it. Despite his adamant denial, was Neil only suffering from pre-wedding nerves as she had assumed? Had he come to regret his impulsive actions already? Was he maybe waiting for her outside the church, or outside her house, to beg her to forgive him and put matters right with her? How she hoped . . . prayed . . . that he was.
Pulling herself together, she made her way back into the church, stunned to find that none of their friends or members of Neil’s family were waiting for her. Like Gina, it seemed, they felt no concern for how she might be feeling and saw no need to offer any support, save for the vicar who was waiting for her down by the door, ready to lock up after she had left.
She fought to find something to say to cover the acute humiliation and embarrassment of Neil’s jilting of her. But when she drew level with him, she had no words at all.
He smiled sympathetically at her and said, ‘In my experience, most weddings have a slight hitch or two before the big day. I’m sure you’ll sort your differences out.’
So was Cait, but ‘slight hitch’ was hardly how she would describe the situation between Neil and her – it was more a cataclysmic event, but she appreciated that the vicar was doing his best to make her feel better. Unfortunately, he hadn’t succeeded.
Smiling wanly at him, she went outside. Any hope she’d had that Neil would be waiting there for her was dashed. All she could hope now was that he would call at her house, and with that in mind she hurried off home.
CHAPTER FOUR
Jan had never been so cold in her life. Her bones felt as if they were frozen solid and she was afraid that if she didn’t manage to stop her teeth from chattering together they’d smash to smithereens. The bare stone step of the shop doorway was unyielding and, with no other protection against the bitter weather than the clothes she was wearing, getting herself into a position comfortable enough to afford her some sleep was impossible. Very kindly her travelling companion had offered her his blanket before they’d gone into their separate shelters, but at the time she couldn’t help but look utterly disgusted by the thin holey material with the vile smell emanating from it. Later she wished she hadn’t been so particular as the bit of warmth it would have offered her would have far outweighed her initial revulsion. The only consolation was that the doorway was deep and so for the most part shielded her from the relentless wind.
It wasn’t just the incessant cold and hunger that were getting to her. She felt so terribly vulnerable and her nerves were on edge, the incident in the arches still weighing heavily on her. Even had she been able to make herself comfortable enough to sleep, she doubted she would have dared to render herself so helpless. Another evil-minded person like the one in the arches could easily happen upon her and see her as easy prey, despite the fact that her saviour was only a few feet away in the doorway of the shop next-door.
A picture of him rose in her mind then. The dregs of society, most people would see him as, like she herself had only a few hours ago, but underneath those tattered, filthy clothes and mass of matted hair was a man with some common decency. She had noted too that he did not speak in the thick Leicester brogue of these parts, and his speech was free from swear words. She judged that his background was probably very different from the rest of the lowlifes she’d come across these last few days. She wondered how a man like him had come to end up living on the streets. It was with a sense of shock that she then realised he had saved her from a terrible ordeal and yet she didn’t even know his name.
She froze suddenly as she sensed another presence nearby and jerked her head up to look fearfully at the entrance to the street. Her heart thumped, the breath seeming to freeze in her lungs. A shadowy figure seemed to be staring back at her. She immediately assumed an assailant was sizing her up to ascertain whether she was worthy of robbing. Instinctively she brandished her handbag at them, to show that she was armed and wouldn’t take an attack on her person lightly. The shadowy figure stepped into the entrance. She opened her mouth to scream blue murder, desperately hoping that yet again her saviour nearby would come to her rescue, when to her utter relief a flicker of light lit the stranger’s face and a puff of smoke streamed into the bitter air. Her would-be attacker was just a pedestrian who had stopped to shelter in the shop doorway while lighting a cigarette.
After they had gone on their way it took several moments for Jan to calm herself down enough to try and get some desperately needed sleep, but each time she heard the slightest noise she would sit bolt upright again, eyes locked on the doorway to the dark street beyond. Finally she decided that risking the chance of catching fleas or lice and enduring the foulest of stenches was preferable to causing herself a heart attack with her own jagged nerves.
She struggled up and made her way round to the doorway where her saviour was sheltering. He was staring back at her before she set foot inside.
‘Oh, you can’t sleep either,’ she said to him as she stepped into the long entrance. Shop windows to either side displayed the goods for sale in the establishment – a selection of winter woollens in bright colours which were being promoted as perfect Christmas presents. Jan stopped a foot or so away from where he sat huddled up against the shop door.
He responded a mite grumpily, ‘I was asleep until I sensed your arrival. You’ll learn to sleep with one eye open and your ears on alert if you want to survive on these streets.’
A violent shiver ran up Jan’s spine, which was nothing to do with the freezing weather but more acute fear at the thought of having to spend another night like this. If anyone had ever believed that sleeping rough held an element of freedom and glamour to it, then they were mad. She meant this night to be her one and only experience of sleeping out. She had to stay positive, believe there was a way to get herself out of this situation, it was just that she hadn’t thought of it yet.
She said to the man, ‘I apologise for waking you.’
He stifled a yawn. ‘Well, if you hadn’t, there’s a good chance I would have been awake soon enough as it’s nearly chucking out time . . . that’s if the coppers haven’t moved us on before then. It’s rare to get a full night’s sleep, what with one thing and another. Did . . . er . . . you want something?’
She eyed him awkwardly. ‘Well . . . I was wondering if that offer of the blanket is still open? I . . . er . . . didn’t take it up before as I didn’t want to deprive you of it, but . . . well . . . I’m so cold.’
He knew she wasn’t being truthful over the reason for declining his offer and supposed if their roles were reversed he would not have wanted to accept the filthy article either, but the bitter weather tonight was overriding any fear of what she might catch from it. He supposed she didn’t give a thought to the way her manner towards him only served to remind him further to what a low state he’d been reduced, for which again he couldn’t blame her. Thankfully he had learned over the years to ignore others’ negative reactions to him. Pulling the blanket off himself, he held it out for Jan to take. Her slight hesitation before she did so was not lost on him.
‘Thank you,’ she said, wrapping the article around herself. Then she stood eyeing him awkwardly again for a moment before she ventured, ‘Er . . . do you mind if I squat down here, only . . . I’m . . . er . . .’
Scared, frightened, feeling vulnerable on her own, just like he’d been when he’d first started sleeping rough. Glen wasn’t at all keen on the idea of sharing space. He was used to his own company, and it was bad enough having to watch his own back in these mean streets let alone hers as well, which he’d feel obliged to do as he had in the arches. He’d had no choice about losing his self-respect and being reduced to doing things in order to survive that would have absolutely appalled him when he’d been part of normal society, but at least he’d managed to cling on to some of his old beliefs, including the one that a man naturally protects a woman, which was urging him now to tell her to stay. But his opinion turned out to be irrelevant as she was already trying to make herself comfortable
on the hard stone floor a foot or so away from him.
He watched her for a while, trying to achieve her task but failing miserably. Finally, in frustration that her shuffling about was preventing him from snatching some sleep while he could, he snapped, ‘Why don’t you take that brick out of your handbag that you just about finished me off with, then use the bag as a pillow?’
‘Oh, I never thought of that,’ she gratefully responded. ‘Thank you.’
He then spent another frustrating few minutes watching her try to get herself into a comfortable position until finally he sat up and said gruffly, ‘Look, why don’t you swallow your pride and go home?’
Jan stopped her shuffling and sat up to look at him, her face tight with annoyance. She snapped, ‘Do you seriously think I’d be willingly putting myself through this . . . this . . . living nightmare if it was as simple as that!’
‘Well, in my experience many people end up on the streets after silly family feuds that go beyond repair because neither side will make the first move to sort things out.’
She eyed him curiously. ‘Is that what happened to you then?’
He fell silent for a moment before he said, ‘No. It’s more complicated in my case.’
‘So is my situation.’ Jan gave a deep sigh and said quietly, ‘My husband’s chucked me out. Told me never to darken his door again. He meant it.’
It was Glen’s turn to eye her curiously. ‘Just like that? For no reason?’
‘Oh, he had a reason. Me having an affair.’
‘What reason did he give you for believing such a terrible thing?’