At twenty five to eight, the Admiral pushed open the door to The Ship. Normally exactly on time, it had taken him longer than anticipated to put his combat gear on. The last time he’d worn it was to a fancy dress do at the Kingswear village hall ten years ago. There was an outside possibility that he’d put a smidgeon of weight on since then.
To the Admiral’s satisfaction, Jimmy was already sitting on his stool next to the bar, however the look of alarm that quickly spread across his face when he spied his former commanding officer had the Admiral reflecting that being a few minutes adrift might actually have worked in his favour - mainly due to the fact he was completely blocking the door should Jimmy try to make a run for it.
Watching the Admiral approach the bar dressed like a Geriatric Mutant Ninja Turtle caused every alarm bell in Jimmy’s head to ring loudly and repeatedly. Nevertheless he didn’t move, totally rooted to the spot like the rest of The Ship’s Thursday night regulars. Fortunately Charles Shackleford was totally oblivious to the impact his chosen attire was having on the occupants of the pub, being entirely focused on the pint ready and waiting for him on the bar. There was a sudden loud, though very brief, ripping sound which caused the Admiral to pause for a second in the act of hoisting himself up onto the bar stool, but when nothing more ominous followed, he sat himself down with a grunt and, sighing happily, took a sip of his beer.
The two men sat in silence for a few moments while the Admiral took the time to savour his pint, and Jimmy frantically tried to come up with a valid reason to leave. However, unable to concoct a convincing excuse in the necessary time frame, the small man finally exhaled noisily, picked up his own pint and simply resigned himself to waiting.
An hour later Jimmy found himself driving slowly and carefully up the narrow road winding around the headland towards Noah’s house, all the while wondering how the hell he’d managed to get himself embroiled in another of the Admiral’s bloody harebrained schemes, and exactly what he was going to tell Emily when she found out about it. His heart was sinking faster than you could say ‘Cowabunga,’ and his only teeny weensy consolation was the Admiral’s nonchalant claim that he wasn’t intending to actually speak to Noah if the actor happened to be at the house - just spy on him. Jimmy’s sarcastic, ‘Oh, well of course, that makes it all fine then,’ fell on completely deaf ears. He moaned softly. This could end in a divorce. Emily had been so adamant that the information about Noah’s return be turned over to Tory for her to decide whether she wanted to do anything about it. The only reason she hadn’t done it herself was due to Jimmy’s belief that such sensitive information should come from her father. What the bollocking hell was he thinking? The Admiral was about as sensitive as a frostbitten big toe. As Jimmy carefully negotiated the twists and turns in the gathering dusk, his lurid imagination already had him reduced to living in a bedsit with only lice and cockroaches for company after Emily had callously taken him to the cleaners. He got as far as wondering whether he should stock up on cardboard boxes when suddenly the callous, cold-hearted perpetrator of all his suffering tapped him on the shoulder. ‘Stop here Jimmy lad, and park the car next to that bush.’
Carefully manoeuvring the car so that it faced back the way they’d come (obviously in case they needed a quick getaway), Jimmy finally turned off the engine. They were parked underneath a low canopy of trees, practically on top of the bush the Admiral had earmarked, and now the light was almost gone, only someone deliberately scouting the vicinity would likely notice their car. It would have to do, especially as Jimmy had flatly refused to climb one of the trees to cut down a few branches when the Admiral suggested they needed a bit more camouflage. Of course the trees hanging over a hundred foot drop directly into the river might have had something to do with Jimmy’s reluctance, although the Admiral privately thought his friend was being a bit of a nancy.
Looking behind him, Jimmy spotted Noah’s house about thirty yards away. From this angle he couldn’t see any lights. ‘Shall I stay in the car?’ he suggested hopefully, ‘You know, in case we need to scarper quickly.’ For a second he thought he was in luck as the Admiral frowned and pursed his lips, obviously weighing up the pros and cons. To Jimmy’s dismay, however, the Admiral finally shook his head reluctantly. ‘Good plan Jimmy boy, but wouldn’t want you to miss out on all the fun,’ was his perfectly serious comment, completely missing Jimmy’s look of incredulity in the dark. ‘Anyway, we’re a team and it’ll need both of us, a seamless unit working together as one entity to get even one of us over that bloody fence…’
Five minutes later they were standing next to the six foot fence in question. ‘I know for a fact he hasn’t got any alarms on this bugger yet,’ the Admiral confided in a stage whisper that could have been heard twenty yards away. ‘You stand on my shoulders and have a look to see if there are any lights on.’ He bent down and cupped his hands together, a clear indication that Jimmy should place a foot in the cradle created and simply hop onto the larger man’s shoulders. Taking a deep breath, Jimmy obediently lifted his left foot and placed a hand on each shoulder. Then doing a small hopping motion that nearly resulted in his left knee shoving the Admiral’s chin up his nostrils, he levered himself up. Once there, it became quickly apparent that this was as far as he was going. He briefly tried to lift his right leg, currently swinging freely, over the Admiral’s shoulder, but, although it might have been different thirty years ago, the necessary twisting motion to complete the action was completely beyond him and he was much more likely to take out the Admiral’s eye.
For a few seconds they stood there swaying gently, Jimmy’s scrotum unfortunately pressed against the Admiral’s face as though they were taking part in a bizarre porn movie. ‘Can you see anything?’ The muffled voice coming from his nether regions jolted Jimmy out of his paralysis, and, precariously transferring his hold onto the Admiral’s head, the small man carefully looked over the fence. At first he thought the house was empty, but after his human scaffold wobbled to the right a bit he could see lights shining onto the lawn around the side of the house. ‘I think there’s someone inside,’ he hissed down, just as the hall lights came on.
~*~
Despite the temptation, we resist the opportunity to get drunk, instead taking solace in carbohydrates – a decision Dotty roundly applauds. By the end of the first bowl of chips we manage to come up with a list of employment possibilities that are likely to pay more than minimum wage and thus avoid the likelihood of Kit having to move into her garage. Despite his initial unthinking remark, Freddy turns out to be very adroit at thinking outside the box and by the time I finally tear Dotty away from the remains of our third bowl of chips to catch the last ferry, Kit is looking much less haunted. As I leave, I bend down and pull her into a quick tight hug. ‘Please try not to worry too much Kitty Kat, we’ll sort it out together.’
A half an hour later, as Dotty and I are walking up the steep slope that is the Admiralty garden, I’m still mulling over our inventory of opportunities and suddenly realize that for once I’m not wallowing in self pity. This is pretty much the first time I’ve thought of anything but my own misery since Noah and I split up. While I hate to see my best friend in so much turmoil, I can’t deny that it’s a relief to think about something other than my own stupidity - it has to be said, self flagellation gets old very quickly. My sense of satisfaction is relatively short lived however, as by the time I finally arrive breathless and gasping at the back door, my ability to construct any kind of coherent thought has practically disappeared. I do this trek nearly every day. I just can’t understand why I’m not stick thin. I pause at the door, intending to take a quick breather before rummaging around for my house key which for a reason only understood by handbag fairies, always seems to migrate to the very bottom of whatever holdall I’m carrying, usually necessitating the ritual tipping out of everything, from tampons to dog treats, to find it. I’m just about to drag the bag over my head when suddenly the door is yanked open from inside the kitchen, causing me to
stumble back in surprise. ‘Bloody hell dad, you scared the crap out of me. What on earth are you doing sitting in the dark?’ I step past him to turn on the kitchen light. ‘Why on earth are you dressed like you’re an extra out of The Dirty Doz…’ I stammer to a halt as I look up at my father’s solemn face. ‘Think you’d better sit down Victory,’ he murmurs in a voice so far below his usual level of decibels it causes my heart to jolt in sick response. ‘I’ve got something to tell you.’
~*~
Suddenly faced with an almost uncontainable desire to be anywhere but here, Jimmy nevertheless resisted the urge to turn into Captain America and use the Admiral’s head as a trampoline to vault over the fence into the still dark garden beyond. Instead both men froze, each frantically trying to come up with a credible reason as to why they were imitating a Native American totem pole outside Noah Westbrook’s front door. After a few seconds however, the Admiral began to wobble alarmingly. While not particularly heavy, Jimmy’s death like grip on the Admiral’s balding head, not to mention the fact that he was slowly but surely being suffocated by his close proximity to his friend’s one eyed trouser snake, meant that things were going downhill quicker than you could say, ‘Have-um heap big problem.’
As the Admiral began to totter blindly towards the fence, Jimmy made a grab for the nearest wooden post. Muttering to the larger man to stand still, he eventually managed to swing his free leg over the wooden railing, finally lifting his weight from the Admiral’s shoulders but leaving him balancing precariously on the top of the fence. Both men glanced anxiously towards the front door, behind which they could now clearly hear voices. ‘Hide,’ whispered the Admiral urgently, giving Jimmy a sharp push before taking off at a staggering hobble towards the trees hiding their car. Fortunately the only sound Jimmy made as he toppled sideways was a barely audible woomph, just as the door opened to reveal Noah Westbrook.
Tucking himself into the shadows, Charles Shackleford watched as Noah stepped outside. ‘Can you see anything hon?’ came a voice from inside.
A woman’s voice.
The Admiral felt like someone had punched him in the stomach. He was rooted to the spot as he watched the owner of the voice come up behind Noah to lean her cheek against his and wrap her arms around his neck. Noah raised his hand to lightly, familiarly, touch the fingers pressed against his chest. ‘Nothing,’ he murmured, ‘Must have been the wind. I’ll get the alarms checked while we’re here.’ The woman nodded, giving him a quick peck on the cheek before dropping her arms and retracing her steps back into the house. After staring intently into the near darkness for a few more seconds, Noah turned back to join her, closing the door decisively behind him. A minute or so later the hall lights went out and silence reigned, apart from Jimmy’s muffled swearing as he blundered about behind the fence. The Admiral knew he should be grateful that his friend had survived the fall unscathed, but all he could see was his daughter’s heartbroken face when he told her that Noah Westbrook had another woman.
~*~
Dad insists on sitting me down at the kitchen table, which already has a large glass of wine placed on it ready and waiting. For me. Before I can speak however, he bangs out of the kitchen to fetch a bottle of port from his study. With a sense of grim foreboding, I watch him pour himself a large measure - I can see he’s working out in his head exactly how to tell me something awful. As I take a large sip of my wine, I want to shout at him to just spit out whatever he has to say, but I know from old that such a strategy doesn’t work with my father. He’ll speak in his own time or not at all. My heart lurches sickeningly between possibilities, the chief of which is that it’s all been a big mistake and he’s actually going to jail after all…
By the time he finally seats himself down opposite me at the kitchen table, I’m ready to scream. My glass is already half empty which my father ominously acknowledges with a satisfied nod. ‘The thing is Victory,’ he starts, just as I’m about to tip the rest of the wine over his head, ‘What I mean to say is… Oh bollocks girl, there’s no good way to say this. The fact is, Noah’s gone and got himself another woman.’
It was the last thing I expected him to say. I stare at him in silence, my head trying to process what my heart is completely repudiating. ‘How do you know?’ I whisper finally. ‘Saw him,’ is dad’s blunt response. ‘He’s back in Dartmouth and staying at his pad with her.’
A kaleidoscope of disbelief, misery, loneliness and despair hurtles through my mind. ‘Noah’s in Ireland, so you must have been mistaken,’ I finally manage to croak, the pain almost choking me. My father sighs and shakes his head. ‘I wasn’t mistaken Victory love. Jimmy and I went up to his house earlier. He was there.’
‘But – but, did he see you? Did you speak to him?’ My voice is thick with unshed tears. ‘No, he didn’t know we were there,’ dad replies brusquely, ‘But I saw him at the door with this stunner. She put her arms around him and kissed him.’ I know my father isn’t being deliberately cruel. He calls a spade a spade, and bugger wrapping it up in social niceties. I feel myself curl up into a tight ball of mental anguish. How - how could he do this? How could he take someone else there so soon? Oh God, I think I’m going to be sick. I shove my chair back so hard in my haste to stand, that it falls to the floor with a crash. Without stopping to right it, I rush out of the kitchen and up the stairs to my bedroom. I only just manage to make it to the bathroom before the chips I so enjoyed earlier decide to make another appearance. Then, after retching into the toilet bowl until nothing is left, I finally collapse on to the bathroom floor, and wedged between the toilet and the radiator, I bury my head in my hands and cry.
It’s three o’clock in the morning and I’m still wide awake. The tears have finally dried up. My mind has been replaying our break up in minute by minute high definition, over and over again since I got into bed, and now, all I can hear in my head behind the incessant pounding is Noah, saying, ‘You know me Tory.’
And I do.
I’ve touched him, kissed him, teased him and made love with him. He’s not a god. He’s flesh and blood. Sincere and genuine. He doesn’t need others to fawn over him and remind him of his self worth. I’m well aware that I’m no Charlize Theron. No amount of effort is going to transform me from plain, plump, ordinary Victory Shackleford to a glamour goddess. But I was enough for him. More than enough.
He was mine…
But I couldn’t believe it because wouldn’t let myself believe it. The only obstacle in the way of my relationship with Noah was me.
And it still is.
I sit up in bed suddenly, causing Dotty to grumble softly. Frowning into the gloom, I take a deep breath. Who do I want to be? Do I want to be this? Insecure and so obsessed with other people’s ideas about who I am that I throw away the love of my life because I don’t think I fit the mould of a movie star’s girlfriend?
A sudden fragile hope bursts inside of me. Noah has never seen me as anything but me. And I am enough. As I am.
But he won’t come back to me, even though all the melodrama is over, simply because he knows that the real reason we broke up had nothing to do with my father and everything to do with me. I recall his parting words to me in Bloodstone Tower again. He was right. What we had together wasn’t a fairytale, it was real.
I just have to let go of my own self as an obstacle.
It’s funny how sometimes the clearest moments come when you least expect them. My heart thuds in tremulous excitement. I need to tell Noah that finally, I understand what he was trying to say. That I don’t care what people say about me, about us.
But, how on earth am I going to do it, and where? I can ask Noah to come to see me, but what if he refuses? If that happens, have I got the balls, as my father would say, to go to him?
Chapter Seventeen
It’s just after ten am when I finally wake up to Dotty’s insistent pawing. I’ve spent the better part of the night devising then discarding plan after plan to get Noah’s attention - all of which seem incre
dibly lame, not to mention ridiculous, in the bright light of day, especially when you consider the fact that Noah obviously has someone else. As I wearily climb out of bed and throw on my dressing gown, I’m finally forced to confront the elephant in the room that I’d so determinedly ignored during my late night deliberations.
I’ve not got over Noah, but the evidence suggests that he may well have got over me…
As I go down stairs to let Dotty out, there’s no sign of my father or Pickles. I’m not surprised. He doesn’t do female hysterics very well at all, and it’s not like we haven’t been here before. Putting the kettle on, I feel my resolve, so strong in the early hours, begin to fade as harsh reality arrives with the daylight. Am I a fool to think there might be a chance? Am I prepared to humiliate myself on the off chance that Noah might still have feelings for me? What if there are other people there when I see him? Against my will, I envision Noah’s very public rejection and by the time the kettle has boiled, my head has already had my humiliation being covertly filmed and posted up on You Tube. Bet that would get more than two million hits.
Dotty’s scratching at the door brings me back to the present and I shudder at the thought of being the laughing stock of pretty much the whole world.
Sweet Victory: A Romantic Comedy (The Dartmouth Diaries Book 2) Page 15