by Georgia Hill
“He knows you exist all right,” I said, thinking back to what Rupert had said about Ann when he’d given me a lift to the pub that time.
She sighed mournfully. “Still, I don’t expect you to understand what it’s like. You get on so well with everyone, even the scary Mr. Thorpe is eating out of your hands.” She took a sip of coffee.
I prickled a bit at this and then had a vision of Jack nibbling deliciously at my palms. I thrust the image firmly to the back of my mind.
“We have our differences, I can assure you!” That was the understatement of the century. “But Ann, you’re doing really well at school, you’ve been a fantastic member of the senior management team and I’d really miss you if you went.”
She didn’t look convinced.
“Think how brilliantly the Christmas gala went. And that was all down to you and your enthusiasm!” I added, wincing at my memories of the evening. “Don’t leave, please. Not because of a man.”
“You don’t understand, I didn’t think you would,” she pouted. “I can’t imagine you ever having this problem. You’d just swan up to the guy and drag him off!” Then she took the sting out of her words by beginning to laugh, albeit somewhat bitterly. I joined in and then inevitably began to cough.
“Believe me. I understand far better than you think,” I murmured, meaning every word. “It’s never easy working with someone you have feelings for.”
There was a silence.
“There was a time,” she began cautiously, “When I thought you and Rupert …”
“No,” I said as firmly as I could manage. “There’s nothing between me and Rupert. I like him a lot but that’s all there is to it.”
Ann gave another sigh. “Well that’s a relief. I know he likes you.”
“He admires me as his mentor, which is only right and proper, bearing in mind my incredible teaching prowess!” I said in pompous tones, in a desperate attempt to lighten the conversation. It worked, Ann giggled.
“Look,” I added briskly, “Even if things are really awful, you can’t hand in your resignation now. You’d never find another job at this stage of the term.”
“No, you’re right I suppose. But what am I going to do?” Her mood changed again and she began to cry very slightly, little delicate trails of tears crawling down her cheek. I wondered how it was that some women cried so elegantly. I never managed it. I gave her a hug and we rested our heads together. Two women in love.
Hopelessly.
“I don’t know Ann, I just don’t know.”
We sat in a companionable silence until, in time, she rallied. Eventually she gave a tiny sniff and began to look around her. It didn’t take too long before she was more like the Ann I knew from old.
“This is a lovely flat, Nicky,” she exclaimed, as she recovered rapidly. “Bit on the bijou side but it’s been beautifully done. However did you find it? I thought you were living with your parents?” She blew her nose on a tissue. I hid a smile as I saw it was colour co-ordinated to match her clothes.
“And was that our overbearing headmaster, Mr. Thorpe, outside?” Ann turned to me, excitedly. “Had he been to see you? I should think so too, you’re practically running that school!”
After I’d briefly explained, I winced. Jack and I had taken great pains to keep our living arrangements a secret, in case it was subject to gossip. With Rupert and now Ann knowing, there was every chance we would be the talk of the school come the Summer term.
She rose and moved around the room, picking things up and then putting them down again without really looking. She turned to me and said slyly: “You know, I’ve always thought he had a bit of a thing for you.”
I snorted. “I thought you liked him when he first arrived.”
“I did,” she said airily. “Who wouldn’t? I mean he’s drop-dead gorgeous, isn’t he. But he’s never once looked at me in the same way as he looks at you.” She fingered the deputy’s badge which I had proudly displayed on my notice board.
“How does he look at me?” I was finding it hard to breathe.
“You know, like the Big Bad Wolf looks at Red Riding Hood. Like he wants to gobble you all up!” Ann put the badge down and looked out at the little balcony. No doubt she’d call that ‘bijou’ too.
“I think you ought to try reading some stories aimed at older children once in a while,” I replied caustically. I’d think about Jack ‘gobbling me up’ later. “The Roald Dahl version of Little Red Riding Hood is much more entertaining.”
Ann turned on me, grinning, picking up the reference. “I knew you were scary Nicky, but I didn’t think you kept a pistol in your knickers!”
We were still giggling as I saw her to the front door. As she tripped lightly down the steps she passed Jack on the way up.
“Bye Wolfie!” she carolled, laughing as she went.
Jack came into the flat with a mystified expression on his face. “Wolfie?”
“Oh, just a bit of school personnel business,” I adlibbed. “Love does silly things to people, doesn’t it?” I added inconsequentially.
“You can say that again.” He gave me a sour look. “I thought we could go to Dorset on Monday. Would that suit?”
“It would suit me down to the ground, Mr. Thorpe!”
Chapter Fifteen
Easter Monday dawned bright and cold. A Spring day more reminiscent of the lion than the lamb but I was excited nevertheless.
I was waiting by Jack’s car, dressed and ready on the dot of eight o’clock. I leaned against the Jaguar, hoping my legs would stop feeling wobbly soon. I attributed their weakness to the after-effects of the ‘flu’, naturally.
Jack came out of his front door and smiled broadly when he saw me. “Ready?”
Dazed at the warmth of his greeting, I distracted myself by checking in my pocket for the economy sized packet of industrial strength cough sweets I’d brought and grinned back. “You bet!”
The journey down was thrilling. Being so low down made the E-Type seem so much faster than other cars I’d travelled in and it easily ate up the miles along the M5. For once I could see the appeal – of the car. The lightness in my heart had nothing to do with its driver. Nothing at all.
“How long will it take to get there?” I asked, squinting across at him in the weak sunshine.
“About two hours. Not long.” Jack answered with an impish expression. He always seemed so much more relaxed when driving.
“Legally?” I asked flirtatiously and smiled at him again. The joy of feeling better, escaping the flat and being with him was exhilarating. I had stardust in my soul.
Jack grinned back. “Well maybe not totally legally!” and he gunned the engine to overtake the car in front.
As we sped along he told me about the cottage. “It’s in Lyme Regis. We used to have our family holidays down there, every year until, well, until we couldn’t afford one anymore. As soon as Jenny was able, she and Colin bought a cottage there. It’s right on the sea front. It was in a bit of a state so they got a bargain.”
He laughed indulgently. “Jenny is completely besotted with Lyme. She’s not happy unless she’s been there at least three
times a year. It drives Colin mad. He’d like to do more skiing. If it wasn’t so far from our parents I think she’d move there permanently, whatever Colin said!”
I thought Jenny looked more Bond Street than buckets and spades but I didn’t comment. I hardly breathed in case it stopped Jack from talking. It was so rare he opened up. I twisted sideways to get a better look at him. He had on his chinos and suede jacket again but underneath was a mustard yellow sweater I hadn’t seen before. It made his light eyes look arctic blue in the
cold sunshine.
He caught me looking at it and smiled ruefully. “It’s one of Colin’s cast offs. Not sure it’s my colour. You’d know. You always dress so well. I haven’t a clue about what colours go together.”
I hid my blushing pleasure at his compliment by grinning idiotically out of the wind
ow. I sighed happily. I was clutching at fragments of happiness today but I was determined to make the most of it. Live for the day was more Andy’s philosophy but for once, I could see exactly what he meant.
When the car crawled down Lyme’s steep high street, slowed by holiday traffic, I couldn’t help myself but cry out with child-like excitement when I spotted the sea. This earned me a wicked grin from Jack.
We sneaked into a parking space right on the front and across to the west of the town I could a great sea wall snaking out into the bay. The sea was satisfyingly rough and there were huge plumes of white water crashing over.
The name Lyme Regis had triggered a distant memory when Jack had explained where the cottage was and now I remembered why.
“Of course! This is where part of ‘Persuasion’ is set, isn’t it?” I exclaimed. “And they filmed it here. It was lovely, so romantic!” I was lost for a moment, thinking of one of my favourite novels. “Captain Wentworth is such a gorgeous hero.”
I sighed. Perhaps Bev was right; I did go for the masterful type. I turned to Jack and saw he was watching me closely. “Where are the steps Louisa Musgrove fell down? Can we see them?”
“They’ve filmed lots of things here,” he narrowed his eyes against the light. “Do you remember ‘The French Lieutenant’s Woman’?”
I nodded.
He gestured in the direction of the sea wall. “We can walk out to the end of The Cobb, if you want to and stand where she stood looking out for her lover’s return. If memory serves, I think that’s where Louisa’s steps are too. Do you think you can make it that far?”
I nodded again, beaming up at him. Nothing was allowed to spoil this day of stolen pleasure.
We walked along the sea front and into the old harbour area. We didn’t talk, Jack seemed preoccupied, his easygoing mood suddenly gone. I had to stop and catch my breath every now and again and eventually Jack offered his arm. We walked along
companionably, looking for all the world like the happy couple we were most definitely not.
I wanted to remember every single moment. I would have bottled the memories, if I could, to take home and pore over, examining the details to relive it all. Even though it was cold, with
an onshore wind, the sun sparkled on the water and the sheer joy of being by a raging sea made up for any chill in the air.
Once on top of the sea wall I was glad of Jack’s arm. I’m not usually bothered by heights but The Cobb sea wall curved round and sloped alarmingly to one side and it didn’t look nearly as wide now we were actually on it. It seemed a popular thing to do though, there were quite a few people braving the walk and I felt a bit ashamed of my shaky legs. I clutched onto Jack as the wind buffeted us and he put his hand on top of mine, his shoulders bowed against the force. I took comfort in the knowledge that it would take a hurricane to blow someone the size of Jack anywhere. I stopped, to catch my breath and squinted in the hard metallic light, looking out to where I could see another coastal town in the far distance.
In the end, we couldn’t walk to the tip of The Cobb due to the tidewater crashing over the top. One or two people had braved it and had returned soaking wet and smelling of the sea. Jack helped me down what he explained were Granny’s Teeth, the set of steps from which Jane Austen made Louisa jump. The steps were little jagged pieces of rock perilously sticking out from the inside wall of The Cobb, leading down to the harbour side. I was extremely glad I wasn’t attempting the descent in a muslin frock and kid slippers and had worn my jeans instead. Jack settled me in a little seat set into the wall and went off to find some hot drinks. I was sheltered by two flights of steps leading back up to the higher part of the wall and it was a relief to be out of the March wind. I was glad to take the weight off my wobbly legs and my chest felt tight from the exercise in the cold air. The virus had taken more out of me than I thought.
Sucking on a cough sweet I indulged in my favourite hobby of people watching. Lyme was certainly popular and there was plenty of subject matter. Holidaying families and couples strolled past in a constant stream. I could see right across to the other end of town and to where we had walked from. It looked a fair way and I hoped I’d have the strength for the walk back. In the far distance I could make out a tall, broadly built man - Jack. His brown jacket was flapping wildly in the breeze and he had his head down, concentrating on what he was carrying. I would recognise his long legged stride anywhere and my heart swelled anew with love. I’d tried so hard to get over him, to keep the relationship on the professional basis he so clearly craved but I’d failed miserably. In terms of getting over my broken heart I was firmly in the Special Needs category. But this wasn’t any old crush I realised as he came nearer, this was different to anything I’d ever felt for anyone before. I blinked away yet more tears as he reached me.
He handed over a take away cup. “Hot chocolate do? I thought it might warm us up.” He stared at me more intently.
“You OK? Overdone it?” Taking off his jacket, he put it round my shoulders.
I looked away from him and concentrated on some children fishing from the safety of the harbour slipway. I coughed and used the excuse to wipe my watering eyes.
“Perhaps we shouldn’t have come,” he muttered, his voice regretful. “I’m not sure you’re well enough.”
I shook my head vehemently and smiled at him. “Wouldn’t have missed this for the world. It’s a lovely place.” I took a sip of chocolate and pulled his jacket closer. The scent of the suede, with its faint aroma of the after-shave he always wore, mingled
exotically with the steam from the drink. To this day, I can’t drink hot chocolate without thinking of the day we spent together in Lyme.
Jack gazed out into the harbour and narrowed his eyes against the light burning up from the choppy water. “We used to come here every year as a family.” He blew out a breath and leaned his elbows on his knees. “I’ve spent some of my happiest moments here.” He laughed but without humour. “Before it all went wrong.” He frowned, obviously lost in his own thoughts.
I held my breath and remained silent in case I stopped him talking. Gone was the casually friendly Jack. This man was rigid with sudden anger.
He looked at me quickly and then back out to the harbour and began to speak through clenched teeth. “My father drinks. Always has done. At first it was business drinking you know, a couple of whiskies, a bottle of wine with dinner. Then we started finding the empty bottles hidden where he thought we wouldn’t find them. He wouldn’t accept any help. He never has.” Jack paused and his lips twisted. “Eventually he moved out. I was sixteen, Jenny would have been seven. Not a good age for a little girl to lose her father. It put an end to the seaside family holidays, that’s for sure.” Jack laughed again, a sour note.
I didn’t respond. I thought of the teenage Jack struggling to cope with a distraught sister and mother. He would feel he had to take responsibility, for the care of his family. I knew that much about him.
“We lost track of him after that. He had a flat for a time but that’s gone now.” Jack’s voice took on a hollow note. It was almost worse than the anger. “He surfaces every now and again and there’s a family crisis.” He gave me a swift glance and then looked away again. “That time, when there was a leak in your flat and I had to rush off to meet Jenny and Colin? That was one of the times. I should have gone up to Manchester on the Friday night but I wanted to be with you. I mean, I thought I ought to see if you were settling in all right.”
Jack sighed emptily and stopped talking but I was selfishly hooked on the fact he’d wanted to be with me. That was what he’d said, wasn’t it? Fervently I wished for a rewind button.
“He’d been thrown out of a hostel for causing some trouble and was in casualty with hypothermia.” Jack shrugged. “He’d checked himself out by the time we’d got there. We don’t know where he is now. Still drinking I expect. Mum’s never been the same since. There was no money left. Jenny went off and married the first rich bloke who as
ked her and I …” He trailed off and then laughed again bitterly, the anger returning. He leaned back against the bench and stared at me. “Did you ever wonder why I’m so good with drunks? I had plenty of practice growing up. I was always the one who put him to bed to sleep it off.”
Silence.
The wind became fiercer. An empty lager can rattled along in front of us and the noise gnawed at my jangled nerves. I thought back to how he’d looked after me when I’d got so hopelessly drunk at Christmas. If Jack had had to do the same for his father, it must have been the last thing he’d wanted to do for me. No wonder he’d seemed so tightly wound.
I found my tongue. “You were so angry with me that night, you know, the night of the gala. I thought it was because - ”
“What?” he snapped back.
“You know.” I trailed off in horror at the memories my behaviour might have brought back for him. I was appalled with myself. If only I’d known.
“I was angry for lots of reasons that night,” he replied shortly. “Only one of them has to do with my father.”
“Jack I- ” I began but didn’t finish. What could I say? To apologise for my behaviour again? To apologise for the lousy childhood Jack’s father had given him? I didn’t know.
A wave thundered over the wall at the end of the harbour and sent some tourists squealing.
“I’m sorry Nicky, here am I going on about my family’s sordid history and you must be frozen.” He stood abruptly. “Let’s get something to eat, shall we and then we can check on the cottage. I’m sorry,” he repeated heavily. “I thought I could cope with coming back but the memories just don’t want to go away. We shouldn’t have come.”
We ate crab sandwiches in a pub overlooking the harbour and sat in an uneasy kind of companionable silence for a while. Jack was still tense. I could see the muscle working in his cheek. I wished we could go back to the easy friendship we’d built up over the last few days.