Running Scarred (Scarred Series Book 1)

by Jackie Williams

  “I told you there would be nothing to worry about.” The Maire was beaming at her, patting her arm with genial familiarity. “It will be a privilege to have all your guests come to our town. They will be welcomed by every citizen. France would no longer be free if the British had not come to our aid. All of our soldiers have been forgotten for too long. I don’t know why your idea hasn’t been thought of before.”

  “Perhaps I have more reasons than most to think about it Monsieur, but I really must be going. I have to go and see Mr. Reeves and get him to sign these papers, then I can make a proper start on the project.” Ellen slid through the gossiping crowd and walked back to her car.

  She drove slowly back to the château, peering through the trees, hoping to catch a glimpse of Patrick as he made his way home. She was so tired, the day had been more stressful than she would have believed possible. She was more than relieved as she drove between the gateposts of the driveway, she could barely stay awake, but as she arrived at the end of the avenue of trees, her eyes opened wide in horror.

  There was a mammoth pile of metal piping and a huge stack of wooden boards lying in front of the château. In her euphoria at having the plans passed she had forgotten about Sylvan’s scaffolding.

  She knew there had been a lot of it, at least four loads had been delivered when the work had started, but when it was all up around the building it didn’t look as nearly much as the mountainous heap that lay before her. It was going to take her hours, if not days, to get it even half loaded. She manoeuvred her car around the open backed lorry that stood hopefully beside the metal piping and parked the car at the back of the château. She groaned as she looked back at the pile of metal. It was no good worrying about it. It would have to wait a little longer. She had to see Patrick first.

  She trudged through the forest to his cottage, wondering if she would be able to break the door down if he refused to answer her this time, but she was amazed to discover that the door was wide open.

  “Patrick” She called softly. “Can I talk with you?” She put her head around the frame. She breathed deeply with relief and her heart fluttered madly as she saw him standing with his back turned towards her. He poured water from his kettle into a mug.

  He lifted his head at her words, but he didn’t respond verbally or turn around.

  She was hesitant, not wanting him to turn her out.

  “I’ve brought some papers for you to sign. I was going to give them to you after the meeting, but you left early.” She said quietly, her heart hammering with more nerves than she had experienced at the town hall. “Shall I leave them here on the table?” His silence was worse than an angry outburst. “Please Patrick.” She begged. “Don’t ignore me. The papers are official, you will have your own area of land right around your house. No one will be allowed to enter without your permission. You can still have your privacy.”

  He banged the kettle back onto the stove and answered her at last, his voice tight with anger.

  “I have rights, you know. You can’t keep me out of the estate. Don’t think you can buy me off, with some measly bit of garden.” He growled over his shoulder at her.

  Ellen breathed in relief, even if he wasn’t friendly, at least he was speaking to her at last. She moved a little nearer.

  “I’m not trying to buy you off and I’m not trying to keep you out. That’s the last thing I want.” She whispered. “I’m giving you somewhere that none of my guests will be allowed to go. You can even fence it off if you want to.” She could see the scarred side of his face. A muscle in his jaw was clenching and his hands were stiff at his sides.

  “I don’t want fences around my house. I don’t want to be caged in. I’m not an animal. I bought this place to be alone not surrounded by hundreds of people.” His voice was louder now.

  She stepped back at his sudden ferocity. He sounded as though he hated her.

  “Don’t be angry with me Patrick. I’ve tried to see you about this, tried to talk to you, but you won’t even look at me anymore.” She felt her voice begin to crack. It was nothing to the sounds in her heart. It was shattered already.

  Patrick turned his head a few degrees towards her.

  “I never looked at you much anyway. I only saw you four times before in my whole life. I don’t call that a close acquaintance. I don’t see why I have to drop everything just because you call.” His tone was spiteful, filled with hatred. He still had his back to her.

  Suddenly she was angry. He was being so unfair. She walked slowly across the room and stood right behind him, wanting to touch him so desperately she had to ball her fists at her sides to stop herself.

  “What have I done? You heard the plans. I would have thought you of all people would have been pleased.” She swallowed back tears as she saw his body stiffen even more.

  His chin came up.

  “It all sounds a bit grim to me. All us cripples in one place. Maybe you expect us all to compare injuries. I don’t understand why you’re doing it. If it’s some sort of fantasy, do-good thing, you can just forget it. You’ll never make it pay.” His voice was wound so tight she thought it was going to snap.

  She kept her tone calm.

  “I don’t need to make it pay. Well, not from those that need it most. You left before the end of the meeting, why don’t you come up to the house and I’ll show you everything in detail. I’m sure you will change your mind.” She was pleading now.

  “No! I don’t want to see it and I don’t want to see you. Can you just go?” He sounded as cold as stone.

  She didn’t move for a second. Her heart plummeted into her stomach and tears sprang to her eyes.

  “Patrick, please don’t say that. Please. I need to see you.” She sobbed uncontrollably, unable to bear his words.

  He dared a quick glance at her and saw the tears trembling, sparkling on her black lashes.

  “Huh! Who the hell are you trying to kid? Your tears are only for yourself. They mean nothing to me. I hate you for what you are doing to me. Leave me alone. Get out of my house and just leave me alone.” His voice suddenly crumpled and he moved away from the stove. He didn’t even look back at her as he shoved his way past and through into another room. He slammed the door loudly behind him.

  She stood quite still, completely stunned by his outburst and then she flew to the door.

  The tears were nearly blinding her as she ran back to the château. The bushes tore at her arms and face, but she didn’t care. She wanted them to hurt. She wanted them to sting, burn, tear her flesh, anything to take away the pain in her heart.

  By the time she was standing in front of the huge pile of scaffolding, she was shaking and near collapse. Her breath came in huge, desperate gasps. He couldn’t mean what he had said. It wasn’t possible. How could he hate her so much? She gulped in a huge lungful of air and then her mind blotted out all the pain as she saw the immense pile of metal and wood in front of her.

  She sighed, trying not to think of how her arms were going to feel in the morning. It was probably just what she needed. Loading the truck was going to take her the rest of the evening and most of the night. So long as it took her mind off Patrick, she didn’t care. She didn’t think she could live if she ever thought of him again.

  She tramped into the château and pulled off her jacket and dress. She threw them back into her suitcase and dragged on her old jeans and T-shirt. Then she took a deep breath, went back outside to the colossal pile of metal, and lifted the first pole. It wasn’t quite as heavy as she thought it might be and she hefted another up with it. She began to load them onto the truck.

  Patrick stood by his bed breathing deeply. He could barely think, let alone move. For nearly two months he had avoided her at all costs, not seeking her out or spying on her, not answering her calls or the door when she had knocked.

  When he had seen her in the cellar with her fiancé, it had been terrible. He hadn’t seen the blond man around the château while Ellen was buying it and he had assumed that he w
as no longer in the picture. When he had arrogantly announced who he was as he sneered at Patrick and demanded directions to find Ellen, Patrick had wanted to kill the man, tear him apart with his bare hands for even existing. But that had been weeks ago, by now he had hoped he would be immune.

  Less than thirty seconds in her company had seen him straight on that score.

  She had looked so beautiful in her pretty yellow dress. Her brown eyes and hair so deep and lustrous, her lips so delicate, so soft, so kissable.

  He wanted her with every fibre in his broken body. He wanted her so desperately he had to yell at her to leave or he would have grabbed her to him, taken her there and then. Her fragrance was in his nose, on his skin, in his house. It was impossible to escape.

  He collapsed on his bed and pushed his hands through his hair. He wanted to tug it out by the roots, he wanted to tear his heart from his body and throw it for the crows to peck. He tried to control his breathing, but every lungful felt as though he had inhaled nails, he just wanted to scream with the pains that were stabbing deep into his chest.

  Instead, he lay down on his bed and wept.

  He didn’t know how long it took him to cry himself dry, the pent up rage and frustration of the last two years seeping its way from his eyes to his pillow.

  It felt as though an age had passed before he could see clearly again. His throat felt dry and raw, the scarred side of his face pricked with dried salty tears.

  He sat up, hating himself for his display of weakness, then he stood and flung open the door of his room. He was almost afraid that she would still be there in his lounge, but the room was empty and still and the evening light was fading fast.

  He drank a swig of cold tea from his mug still by the fire, shuddered with distaste even though it quenched his thirst, and then as he turned to see what he might have for dinner, he caught sight of the folder of papers on the table. He didn’t want to be bothered to look at them, and for a few moments he considered throwing them into the fire, but eventually curiosity got the better of him and he opened the first page.

  It was a deed of entitlement, written up in French and then translated into English. He ran his finger along the main points, noting, with some surprise, that he still had rights of access to all parts of the estate, and then seeing that the parcel of land she was signing over to him was designated as a gift. He creased his eyebrows in concentration, then flipped over the page to see the ten foot she imagined would give him privacy. It was all marked in red pen on an official Plan Cadastral.

  He stopped breathing as he looked at the red line surrounding the plot, not quite believing his own eyes. He took the papers to the window, checking in the last of the fading daylight. The line wasn’t ten feet from his front door. It wasn’t even a hundred feet from his door. The parcel of land was huge. It covered nearly a quarter of the whole estate, right down to the river on one side and to the road on the other.

  He sat down hard on his wooden chair. There was no way she would give this amount of land away. Why would she? She didn’t have to give him a thing. And whatever she gave him, it was no advantage to her. He could still march all over her property if he wanted.

  This had to be a mistake. He looked at it all again. Perhaps someone had drawn the scale wrongly.

  He pushed his chair back. This would need sorting out right away. He didn’t want to have to see her, but there was no way he could let this rest. He tucked the papers back in the folder and went to his bathroom to wash his face. He glanced up out of the window, surprised at how low the sun was in the sky. He couldn’t think how so much time had passed while he had been in his room. He hoped she would still be about.

  He grabbed up the folder and tucked it under his arm, then he closed his front door and began the long trudge up to the château.

  The soft clanking sound came to him when he was about half way along the path.

  The workmen were obviously still there, loading up the huge pile of scaffolding that he had seen earlier in the day. For a moment he wondered why they were working so late, but then he breathed a sigh of relief. At least he wouldn’t have to see her on her own. He didn’t think he could trust himself to be near her alone.

  It was only as he neared the château that he realized that the men were working silently. It was strange. Normally they clattered and chattered all the time, friendly banter and jokes falling from their lips every second that they worked. The silence seemed so odd that he slowed his steps and peered through the bushes.

  He could scarcely believe his own eyes.

  She had changed her clothes. The pretty yellow dress was gone and she was back in her jeans and t-shirt, hoisting a couple of metal bars onto a shoulder that she had padded with a small square of thick cloth. She staggered, her tiny frame slightly unsteady, before she balanced them up and moved them to the side of the lorry. She tipped them up on end next to a line of about twenty more. Then she clambered into the back of the truck and began pulling each pipe up individually and laying it between the two stacks of scaffold boards already on the floor space.

  He stood there watching her in amazement. When she had finished loading the twenty bars she jumped down from the lorry and began the whole process again. There were already about a hundred of the metal tubes on the lorry and the same in boards. His mouth dropped open as she went back to the still massive pile. Was she really going to load the whole lot by herself? Her hair was coming undone from the sparkly clip she always wore, floating about her pale face as she worked and he noticed how her slender arms trembled as she picked up the next lot of metal. This time she stopped by the side of the lorry and wiped her hand across her brow. He could see by the tension in her face that she was utterly exhausted.

  He shook his head and pushed his way out of the bushes.

  “What the heck do you think you are doing?” He grabbed the metal bar before it fell as she jumped in surprise. “Where are Sylvan and his men? They should be doing this.” He flung the bar into the back of the truck as if it weighed no more than a feather.

  She barely looked at him as she trudged back to the pile of metal.

  “They finished taking this lot down this afternoon and didn’t have the time to load it before they stopped for the day. This one must be done by the morning. As there’s nobody else here, it’s down to me to get it done. Now if you don’t mind, unless you’ve anything important to say, can you please leave me to get on, otherwise I’m going to be here all night.” She staggered under the weight of the three pipes on her shoulder and then tipped them upright ready for loading again.

  “You’re going to be here all night anyway. Look, don’t be ridiculous Ellen. You can’t do this by yourself.” He stood in front of her as she retraced her steps for the next load.

  She pushed past him, still not looking at him and lifted another three. This time the strain was even more visible.

  “Well, I don’t see anyone else around do you?” She puffed past him, tipped the poles and stood by the lorry for a few seconds, catching her breath.

  He looked up at the back of the lorry.

  “Have you done all of this on your own? The boards too?”

  She shrugged.

  “Like I said, there’s no one else here. I gave everyone the day off due to the meeting.” She sighed wearily putting her hands on her hips as she glared up at him. “What do you want Patrick? Only a few hours ago you made it quite clear that you didn’t want to see me again. Ever. What brings you running back to see me so soon after I was dismissed?” Her tone was harsh, but there was an underlying tremble that made him stare at her.

  He swallowed before he spoke.

  “I looked at the papers.” He stopped as she turned her back on him, hoisted herself into the bed of the lorry and began pulling up pipes. The muscles in her arms looked like whipcord. She was a lot stronger than she first appeared, but that didn’t mean a lot after the amount of lifting and carrying she had done. He felt beads of sweat spring to his brow. “Ellen, for goodne
ss sake stop and listen. I said I looked over the papers.”

  She still didn’t look at him. The pipes clanged loudly as she dropped them into the lorry.

  “Good. Did you sign them? You can leave them inside on the table. The deeds will be sent to you direct from the Notaire. I believe it takes about three months to receive them, but the land will be yours from the moment you sign.” She jumped back down from the truck again.

  Patrick stepped up close to her, barring her way back to the pile of scaffold poles.

  “I didn’t sign them. There’s an error with the scale on the plan.” He held out the folder in front of him.

  She looked at it for a few seconds, then stepped forwards and took the folder, careful not to make contact with his hand. Her eyes narrowed slightly.

  “Really? I thought I checked them over quite carefully.” She flipped open the pages, scanning them quickly, turning them to the little remaining light to make sure. “I can’t see any problem with it. It’s all drawn up legally. You’re mistaken. I can’t see that there’s anything wrong with it at all.” She closed the documents suddenly and handed the folder back to him.

  He immediately flipped it back open onto the Plan Cadastral and pointed a long finger, tapping it on the red markings outlining the plot of land.

  “Here! This red line around the amount of land. It’s got to be wrong” He thrust the paper under her nose again.

  She looked at it for less than a second and then brushed the papers aside.

  “No, it’s right. That’s what I thought you would need.” She pushed past him yet again, but this time he caught hold of her arm, stopping her in her tracks. She looked down at his hand. He let her go immediately.

  “Why?” He breathed into the sudden silence, shocked at her generosity. “It’s so much.” He stared at her tired expression.

  She shrugged almost dismissively.

  “Not if you want your privacy and you’ve made it perfectly plain that you do. It’s probably not quite enough, but I need the rest of the estate for my project, so I’m afraid you’ll have to make do. Of course if you want to come and join in with anything going on here, you’re very welcome, you do have access rights still. Just call me up first and I’ll make sure I stay out of your way while you’re over here.” He heard the strain in her tone.