by Rosie Green
‘Really? Are you telling me she’s used to you lying?’
He shakes his head. ‘No. There were just certain things during my youth, shall we say, that I felt the need to protect my parents from. Nothing sinister. Smokes in the garden shed. Getting arrested on a trip to Amsterdam with the lads for mooning in a red light district shop window. Telling her I definitely don’t have designs on you and I just wanted to help a friend in trouble.’ He pauses. ‘That kind of thing.’
I swing round in surprise. Harry’s mentioned me to his mum?
He laughs at my expression. ‘I was due at Mum’s for dinner tonight – I often go over on a Sunday, lonely bachelor lad and all that.’
‘Oh yes, sure,’ I remark with heavy sarcasm. I can’t imagine a guy like Harry ever getting the chance to be lonely!
‘It’s true, it’s true,’ he protests, shooting a grin my way. ‘Anyway, I was on the way over there when I saw you on the village green. So I phoned Mum to cancel while you were in your flat getting changed out of your Jane Austen dress, and obviously she wanted to know who the girl was.’
I think about this.
‘So you lied when you told her you didn’t have designs on me?’
‘That is correct.’ Grinning, he thrusts the car into sixth gear, and we speed on our way.
‘Oh.’ I swallow hard.
I’m quiet for a while after that.
‘You know, you were right when you said I play everything for laughs,’ he says suddenly. ‘I’ve been thinking about that. And it’s partly because of my job – having to put people at their ease for a photograph. But it’s also because I’m sometimes scared to take life too seriously.’
‘Oh.’ I swing round to look at him. ‘Why?’
He swallows. ‘I had a brother, Neil, two years younger than me. He died when he was twelve.’
My heart lurches with shock. ‘Oh, God. What happened?’
Harry sighs. ‘We were at the fairground and he was mucking about, climbing up some scaffolding and he slipped and fell. He bashed his head. I tried to save him. I knew how to do the kiss of life as we called it then.’ He swallows hard, remembering. ‘But it didn’t work. I kept trying and trying, even though I knew he’d gone.’
‘Oh, Harry, I’m so sorry. That’s just heartbreaking,’ I say, recalling his comment after he’d resuscitated Bert Wilson at the manor. ‘I suppose that’s why you don’t like the zip wire.’
‘Yes, since Neil’s accident, I’ve always been wary of being high up.’ He sighs. ‘Neil was alive one minute, then gone the next. And after that, I suppose I just thought, Fuck it, I’m not going to take life too seriously because something bad can happen at any moment. And I guess that’s how I’ve lived my life. Having a laugh. Playing the fool. Dating women but not letting myself care too deeply.’
He looks across at me. ‘You made me see that.’ He smiles. ‘Thank you.’
I nod, processing his words, a huge lump in my throat. ‘You’re very welcome, Harry,’ I manage to say.
Fireworks over Brambleberry Manor bring us back to the present. We’re driving near the house and the sky suddenly lights up in an explosion of colour and shooting stars.
‘That’ll be Lady R’s party,’ I tell Harry.
‘I know a great place to watch them,’ he says, and a little farther along the road, he turns off into a narrow lane that’s barely wide enough to allow two cars to pass. We bump along the track and he parks well into the side.
‘Come on.’ He gets out and I follow him across the lane to a gap in the hedge with a brilliant view across a field that slopes down, to Brambleberry Manor, nestled in a dip.
‘Have a seat,’ he says, and he helps me up onto the gate, where we perch to watch the fireworks display.
It’s not quite ten and still fairly light. From our relatively high vantage point, we can see the whole of the parkland, dotted with ancient trees, and the big house in the distance.
‘Beautiful,’ I murmur as the lovely rural scene is suddenly made fantastical by huge fountains of red, silver and purple showering up and hissing into the night sky, lingering a while, then falling back to earth.
‘Best view ever. Especially right now.’ He smiles across at me and suddenly fireworks are going off in my heart as well.
‘Thank you for taking me to Evelyn’s.’
‘Even though we failed.’
I try to shrug it off. ‘I’m probably panicking over nothing. Grant loves his daughter. So whatever happens, she’ll always be his priority. Maybe I should stop worrying. When Titch is eighteen, she’ll be free to come and see me whenever she wants. And in the meantime, I’ll keep seeing her when I can.’
‘On Tuesdays.’
I smile at him. ‘Yes. My precious Tuesdays.’
Harry shuffles along the gate and I feel the warmth of his body against me. I turn towards him and we kiss. It’s achingly sweet this time, not like the passion that flared the other day – but that’s mainly because we’re balancing precariously on a gate, and one careless move will result in us toppling onto the grass.
I shiver suddenly and Harry says, ‘I’m going to get you home now. It’s been a long day.’
He takes off his jacket and slips it over my shoulders and we walk back to his car, arms around each other, our bodies bumping together. He opens the passenger door but before I get in, I smile up at him. Then, emboldened by him admitting he has designs on me, I reach up on tiptoe to kiss him, and when our bodies meet, the passion explodes between us, just like before.
Finally, we break apart, although once we’re in the car, the impulse takes over again and it’s a while before we get moving.
He pulls up outside my flat and phones my mobile so I have his number. ‘The wining and dining thing has to happen. Tomorrow night, if you’re free?’
‘I’m free,’ I murmur happily, my heart beating crazily with the feeling that I’m on the edge of something amazing. Harry’s the only guy who’s ever made me feel this way.
It seems unreal. But amazingly, it’s actually happening.
‘Phone me tomorrow,’ he says as he drops me outside my flat.
‘I will. And thanks for the fireworks.’
He gives me a heart-stopping smile. ‘Here’s to many more.’
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
I sleep like a baby for the first time in a long while. And when I wake, for once my first thought isn’t about Titch.
Instead, I find myself thinking of the unexpectedly perfect way yesterday ended, sitting on the gate watching the fireworks with Harry. And our passionate clinches. I yawn and stretch, wondering if the shooting star fireworks in the night sky might have been a good omen. Maybe things will work out okay after all . . .
I float through the morning’s yoga class at eleven. And when Ellie pops her head round the door as I’m clearing up and says there’s someone asking to see me, I smile broadly at her, assuming it’s Harry.
I throw the last few things in my sports bag and head out of the studio, full of the joys of spring, expecting to be making a date to see Harry that night.
But it isn’t Harry standing there.
I freeze in the doorway, feeling all the colour drain from my face.
Grant is standing stiffly by the counter, a grim expression on his face. I remember that look so well. I’ve been the focus of it many times. When he catches sight of me, his expression seems to darken even more.
A cold hand grips my heart. It was good while it lasted. But the game is now up.
I knew deep down this day would eventually come – I just didn’t think it would be so soon. I brace myself for the verbal attack I know must come.
He stares at me and I’m shocked by his grey pallor and the black circles beneath his eyes. ‘Jaz.’ His fists are gripped at his sides. Tension fills the space between us.
‘How . . . ’ I swallow hard. ‘How did you find me? Was it Pauline Grenville?’
He opens the newspaper he’s holding and throws it down on the neares
t table. ‘That photograph was a bit of a giveaway,’ he says.
My heart in my mouth, I pick the paper up and stare at the page. It’s a double-page spread montage of photos with the heading, ‘Brambleberry Manor Georgian Day’ and sure enough, there I am smiling up at Harry. There must have been a photographer from the local paper there, after all, taking candid shots.
The photo has been wrongly captioned. It says ‘Jaz Winters, who runs The Little Duck Pond café in Sunnybrook’. Presumably that’s why Grant has turned up here.
I’m stunned by the photo, seeing it through Grant’s eyes. The camera has caught a mere second in time and I look as if I haven’t a care in the world. Harry and I are gazing at each other in delight, looking like any loved-up couple.
No wonder Grant looks grim.
‘Shall we go outside and talk?’ I murmur, not wanting him to cause a scene in the café and embarrass Ellie.
‘Okay,’ he says gruffly, and he follows me out.
We stand there, facing each other. Grant runs a hand through his sandy hair and stares down at the ground, as if trying to work out what to say. He looks more agitated than angry.
‘Look, Jaz. I need that money,’ he says finally.
‘What money?’
‘The cash from the shares.’
I sigh inwardly. I can’t believe we’re having the same old argument within seconds of clapping eyes on each other. ‘Grant, they were my shares. So the money belongs to me. But actually, it’s almost gone.’
He glances around him as if he doesn’t know what to do, his eyes darting everywhere. Then he looks directly at me. ‘There’s nothing left?’
I shake my head. ‘Not a lot. I’m earning now to pay the rent. I - ’
‘Nothing at all? But there was a good few thousand in that account.’ His face twists in despair.
‘Yes and I’ve had living expenses to pay for the past six months.’ The way he’s acting, all agitated and jumpy, Grant looks like a man who’s right on the edge. Perhaps it’s the drink.
He sighs, his shoulders slumping.
‘Grant, what’s going on?’
He shakes his head hopelessly.
‘Are you in debt again?’
He gives a bitter laugh, staring down at the ground. When he looks up, his eyes are as cold and bleak as a grey November day.
The look of him unnerves me. The Grant I fell in love with has totally vanished. He’s clearly not taking proper care of himself because apart from his terrible complexion and bleary eyes, his hair is far too long, hanging in lank strands over his collar.
He looks to me like a man who’s lost everything.
I think anxiously of Titch. Is he taking care of her, if not himself?
‘Where is she?’ I ask, trying to stay calm.
‘Titch? She’s fine,’ he says, folding his arms. ‘But she misses you. She wants you back with us.’ He swallows. ‘We both do.’
I fold my arms, mirroring his defensive posture and say as calmly as I can: ‘I’m not coming back, Grant. Ever. And you know why. Because you’re a bully when you’re drunk.’ I’m trembling but I need to say it. ‘I think you need help.’
His eyes flash angrily as I knew they would. I’ve suggested he see a therapist for his addiction problems many times but he always gets annoyed and insists there’s nothing wrong with him - as if having a mental health problem is something to be swept under the carpet.
‘You think you’re so clever, don’t you?’ he snarls. ‘Miss perfect. Well, two can play at that game.’
My heart is beating frantically at his sudden change in mood, but I’m determined not to be cowed by him. ‘You can threaten me all you like, Grant, but I’ve made a new life here and I will never be returning to Palmerston.’
He laughs. ‘Not even if I stop Titch’s riding lessons?’
An icy hand squeezes my heart.
He shakes his head at my shocked expression. ‘I suppose you thought I’d never find out about your secret meetings at the stables every Tuesday.’
I swallow down my fear. ‘You can’t stop her riding, Grant. She loves her Tuesday sessions with Jules and Chloe.’
‘And you.’ He glares at me.
‘And me.’ I shrug helplessly. He’s got the upper hand and he knows it. ‘Please don’t stop me seeing her. I . . . love her and she loves me. She’d be miserable if we couldn’t meet up every week.
‘So come back home.’
I shake my head. ‘I can’t, Grant, and you know it. We’re not right for each other. But don’t let’s make Titch a casualty of our failed relationship. Please.’
I feel almost breathless with panic. The thought of not seeing Titch any more is unbearable. I’m prepared to get down on my hands and knees and beg him, if that’s what it will take.
‘How did you find out I was meeting up with her at the stables?’
‘Titch let it slip that she saw you last week and the whole story came out. She was really upset and that’s your fault for making her keep a secret like that.’
I glance down, knowing he’s right. I hated involving Titch in deceiving her dad, but I just didn’t know what else to do.
‘The whole thing is your fault,’ he says belligerently, hammering home his advantage. ‘If you hadn’t left us in the lurch, we’d still be living together as a family. You’re a selfish and uncaring woman, Jaz Winters, and I’ve made sure everyone knows the truth about you.’
My head is starting to throb. ‘Grant, I’m not listening to this. Please just go.’
‘Okay, I will. But you’ll regret leaving us, I warn you.’
The savage look in his eyes makes my heart stand still.
‘What do you mean?’
He shrugs. ‘Come back and you can carry on seeing Titch. But if you don’t, I’m going to make damn sure you never set eyes on her again.’
*****
Back home, I pace the flat, distraught and unable to think straight. I lie on the sofa for hours, staring up at the ceiling, my head going round and round in circles, thinking of the situation from every angle possible, trying to work out what to do.
The precarious half-life I created to try and look out for Titch is now collapsing all around me, proving just how foolish I was to think we could go on the way we were. When you’re desperate, you do desperate things, I suppose.
Try as I might to think of a workable solution to the whole horrible mess, I keep on coming back to the same sickening conclusion.
Finally, around noon, I find Harry’s number and call him as I promised I would. My hand is trembling and it takes me three attempts before it starts to ring.
He sounds really pleased to hear from me, which makes me feel a thousand times worse.
‘Harry, I’ve got something to tell you. I . . . can’t go to dinner with you tonight.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because I’m leaving Sunnybrook and going back to Grant.’
There’s a pause and I close my eyes in anguish for a second, picturing his stunned expression. Then, not giving him a chance to respond and try to change my mind, I rush on: ‘I’ve realised I’m still in love with Grant and I want to be with him and Titch. I really hope you understand, Harry.’
I end the call there, afraid I’m going to break down completely and give myself away.
Then I call Fen and ask her if she can come over to the café later.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Ellie and Fen listen in complete silence as I tell them the whole story from start to finish, ending with Grant coming here this morning, telling me I won’t be able to see Titch again unless I go back to Palmerston.
‘Phew.’ Ellie lays her hand on my arm. ‘I can’t believe you’ve kept all that to yourself, love.’
‘We wondered what it was you were hiding from,’ says Fen with tears in her eyes. ‘Now we know.’
‘You’re not really going back there, are you?’ Ellie gazes at me anxiously and my heart squeezes, thinking of everyone I’ll be leaving behind. Elli
e and Fen, in particular.
And Harry . . .
‘I’ll have to.’ I swallow miserably. ‘Otherwise he’ll keep Titch from me and I really couldn’t bear that.’
‘I just can’t believe you’re going. We’ll miss you so much,’ says Ellie and Fen gives a little nod as if she can’t speak. My own throat feels tight with emotion.
I attempt a smile. ‘I’ll only be fifty miles away. I can bring Titch to meet you. It won’t be - ’
My mobile starts ringing. I scrabble in my bag for it, my heart sinking when I see Grant’s name on the screen. But when I answer it, fumbling and putting it on speaker phone by mistake, the voice isn’t Grant’s at all. It’s Titch on the other end.
‘Titch? Is something wrong?’
‘Jaz? I had to tell you something so I sneaked Daddy’s phone to call you.’
‘Right. Good girl. What is it, love?’
‘Dad told me to pack my case because we’re going to live in Spain. But oh, Jaz, I don’t want to go because then I won’t be able to ride Bugsy any more and I won’t see you and Chloe and Auntie Jules.’
I stare in horror at Ellie and Fen, who can hear the conversation. ‘Daddy’s taking you to Spain?’ I repeat, trying to stay calm so I don’t alarm her. ‘But it’s not just for a holiday?’
‘No. He said we won’t be coming back. But he said he’s got lots of money and he’s going to get me a dog when we’re in Spain.’ Her voice rises in panic. ‘But I’d much rather stay with you than have a dog.’
‘Of course, love, of course. Don’t worry. I’ll sort it out,’ I say, thinking rapidly. ‘Which airport are you going to, Titch? Do you know?’
‘Erm . . . Hatwick?’
‘Gatwick. Right. Gatwick. Okay. Tell you what, how about I come and see you before you go? But don’t tell Daddy. It could be a surprise that only you and I know about.’ I close my eyes, hating myself for asking Titch to keep yet another secret.
‘Yes, all right.’
I feel like breaking down completely at the sound of her innocent, trusting voice. But I force myself to stay strong. ‘Okay, I’m going to hang up now, sweetheart, but I’ll see you soon.’