The Nothing Girl

by Jodi Taylor

  I stared at him.

  ‘You can speak now.’

  From somewhere, I found a voice. ‘You’re asking me … to … move in with you?’

  ‘No. No, of course not.’

  I felt as if I’d been kicked in the stomach. How stupid am I?

  ‘I’m asking if you would like to marry me.’

  And now I’d been kicked in the heart.

  He was racing on again. You can’t shut Russell Checkland up for long.

  ‘I admit it wasn’t my first choice, but there’s no way your uncle’s going to let you live with me without the protection of marriage vows and actually, he’d be right.’

  That knocked the gloss off things a little.

  ‘No,’ said Thomas. ‘ Give him credit for a little honesty. He hasn’t drowned you in a load of old twaddle about you being the most beautiful woman in the world and how deeply he loves you. ’

  Russell was ploughing on.

  ‘We’ve known each other a long time.’

  We’d played together occasionally as children.

  ‘I like you, you like me. At least I hope you do. I think we could live very comfortably together. We’re both putting into the deal so we’d be equal partners. I think we could have a nice life together. What do you think?’

  Rain lashed against the windows. The dishwasher whirled away to itself.

  ‘You should say something,’ said Thomas. ‘It’s only polite.’

  ‘What? What can I say? What should I say? What shall I do?’

  ‘Seriously?’ said Thomas, looking round. ‘Do whatever you want to do.’

  ‘But …’

  ‘ No, Jenny. Don’t do what you think other people would want you to do. Don’t do what you think is the right thing to do. Do what you want to do. ’

  Russell nudged my coffee mug closer and I sipped gratefully.

  ‘I know this is a bit of a surprise to you. Well, quite a big surprise, probably. Well no, more like a huge shock, but you’ve stopped crying, you haven’t bolted for the door, and you haven’t said no. Can I be reasonably optimistic?’

  He looked like a hopeful little boy. ‘I tell you what, I can see this has taken you by surprise. You need time to think it over before giving me an answer.’

  I nodded.

  ‘Finish your coffee first.’

  I choked.

  ‘That’s better,’ he said approvingly. ‘I’ve got to say, it’s a bit of a bugger when you propose to a girl and she looks like she’s been hit by a truck. Take your time.’

  He sat back and drummed his fingers on the table.

  ‘You know,’ said Thomas, ‘ as fortune hunters go, he’s got to be the worst in the business. A more professional approach would have involved flowers, not buckets, a romantic meal for two, music … and maybe a ring. This guy proposes to you in a dilapidated farmhouse to a background of dripping water and the second rinse cycle. Are you going to say yes? ’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘So that’s a yes, then.’

  ‘I didn’t say that.’

  ‘In a proposal, anything that isn’t a no is a yes.’

  ‘You’re not helping.’

  ‘I don’t have to. You already know what you’re going to do.’

  ‘I know what I should do.’

  ‘Not the same thing at all. You’d better get back to your prospective fiancé. I think he’s going to burst.’

  I looked at him, all shadowed eyes, rumpled hair and nervous energy. For a long, long moment I hovered on the brink of ‘yes.’ But even I have some pride.

  ‘Francesca.’

  He sat back, face falling. What did he expect? That he could sneak off to see her and I would provide a packed lunch? I had no intention of sitting quietly at home while a sniggering Rushford gossiped behind my back.

  He looked at me, looked out of the window, looked down at his lap, looked back at me again, took my mug, and poured us both another coffee. ‘I’ll tell you the truth. I owe you that.’

  I nodded.

  ‘I worship her. She’s the reason I live.’

  Not many women get such an admission two minutes after a proposal of marriage. I was proud of my control. Thomas turned away from the window and stood behind Russell, where I could see him.

  ‘When we met again in London, it was so good. She was so beautiful. She was nicer then, simpler. She laughed more. And she wanted to be with me. Every day brought something new and wonderful. Neither of us could do any wrong. Everything we touched turned to gold. I couldn’t stop painting. It just poured out of me, I knew what I wanted to say. Pretty well everything I did was snatched up, I can’t tell you what it was like. It was exciting, intoxicating. I thought it would go on for ever. And when she got that TV part I thought … well, never mind.

  ‘And then I woke up one morning and she was sitting by the bed with her suitcases. I know what people said about her, but she did at least say goodbye to my face. Then she picked up her stuff and walked away.

  ‘Maybe if I’d cried, instead of getting drunk. Maybe if I hadn’t trashed all my work. Maybe I should have just carried on. I’d painted joy, maybe I should have painted despair. I drank instead. A lot.

  ‘And then, as you know, my father turned up. He settled my debts, although don’t think I didn’t pay one way or another. And pay and pay. I went off to the army – I didn’t care what I did them. I had some idea about serving my country, I suppose. Well, that didn’t work either. Back home I came and here she was. Only a few miles away.’

  He sipped his coffee carefully.

  ‘I should have gone away. And stayed away. I couldn’t do it, I meant to keep away from her and then one day, there she was. Standing in front of me. No warning. No escape. She smiled. I was there. No control. No pride. She lifted her little finger and I left a smoking groove in the carpet.

  ‘But it’s not the same now. There are others involved. It’s wrong. But I thought – if I could just see her then maybe I could paint again. Maybe it would all come back. Maybe it will be as it was.’

  ‘You see,’ said Thomas very softly, ‘not one single word of love.’

  ‘And was it?’

  ‘Not yet.’

  I had a sudden moment of clarity. It wasn’t Francesca, as such, that he wanted. It was what she represented. That was what he wanted back. That time when everything he painted was golden and he felt like the king of the world. But you can’t go back. You can never go back.

  I felt so sorry for him. I had envied him. All this time I’d been living my little life and he’d been out there, at the centre of his world, full of life and energy. But there was always a downside and it usually involved pain and suffering and I was looking at the result in front of me. In that minute, my heart went out to him. I reached out my hand.

  He took it and held it hard. ‘I swear to you, if you marry me I will never do one single thing to hurt you. You have my word. I’m not a complete bastard, you know. You’ll be safe with me.’

  I had no stupid ideas about redemption. That doesn’t happen. But one day she’d walk away from him again. Whether she married Daniel Palmer or not, she would walk away. And he might not survive a second time. And when that happened – and it would – this time there should be someone there for him. Someone to stop him destroying the things that meant most to him. I knew why he had done it. One pain to cancel out another. But Francesca wasn’t the only thing he missed. He was grieving for his lost paintings too and didn’t know it.

  I closed my mind to the oncoming fury and strife. The next few days would not be easy at all.

  He read my thoughts. ‘I’ll make sure it all falls on me. I’ll be there.’

  ‘And I will too,’ said Thomas. ‘I’m here for as long as you need me.’

  What could go wrong?

  Of course, I should have asked questions. I should have asked what the marriage would actually entail. What would he get out of it – apart from the money? How would I benefit – apart from gaining a home? I s
hould have asked about what he expected from me and what I could expect from him. About children. About the future. How would we make it work? The day to day, nuts and bolts bits of two people living together. And most of all, I should have talked about Francesca. Asked proper questions I mean, not just accepted his blithe assurance …

  I should have made a better effort. Words circled my head but none of them touched down. I should have made an attempt to shift the log jam inside me. But I’d had a brief, a wonderful glimpse of a bright, far-off country.

  I said yes.

  Of course, that was the easy bit.

  ‘What are you doing tomorrow?’ he asked.

  ‘Finishing the dining room,’ I said, determined to put off speaking to my family for at least the next decade. I had no idea at all how I was to explain I would be marrying a man I’d known for less than a month and who was notorious for his public pursuit of their daughter. Who had dumped him. Put like that I could hardly explain it to myself.

  ‘OK, yes, you’re right. One job at a time,’ said my easily distracted fiancé. ‘I’ll ring and make an appointment with your uncle for … Wednesday morning. I’ll come to you afterwards and we’ll see your aunt together. I want you to try not to worry too much. It’s going to be a little difficult, but what can they actually do, after all? A few minutes’ unpleasantness and we’re done.’

  We finished the dining room the next day. Russell tried to get Andrew for the weekend to help move the furniture but he said he and Tanya were going away. They did, however, agree to join us in Rushford for a small celebration on Wednesday evening.

  ‘We’ll need to relax a bit after spending the afternoon talking to your ghastly relatives,’ he said breezily and none of us realised that lively though that day would be, the evening was to be even more exciting.

  Wednesday came and I seriously considered staying in bed all day. Thomas made me get up. I dressed carefully and sat and watched the clock, stomach churning.

  Just before noon, I heard a car pull up and stood on tiptoe to peer out of the dormer window. It wasn’t Russell. It was Uncle Richard. Something was wrong. He never came home during the day.

  I turned helplessly to Thomas,

  ‘You don’t know what’s happened,’ he said. ‘Don’t panic yet.’

  ‘Uncle Richard said no, and now they’re going to send me away.’

  ‘It isn’t in Uncle Richard’s power to say no. You’re twenty-eight years old. You can do as you please.

  ‘They’ll lock me away.’

  ‘ No, they won’t. The only locks are the ones inside your own head. I know this is hard, but it’s vital you stay calm. Don’t allow them to agitate you. Try and deal with things one at a time, quietly and with restraint. This may well be your only chance. Take it. ’

  It’s all very well saying ‘keep calm’ but not half so easy to do. I was well aware of the potential for disaster and it looked as if I would be facing it on my own. Where the hell was Russell? Had he been frightened away? Had he changed his mind? Had Francesca suddenly said yes, and he’d forgotten all about me?

  ‘Stop that,’ said Thomas, quite sharply for him. ‘ Stop torturing yourself. There’s any number of good reasons why he’s not here yet. Can you hold the fort until he is?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said. And then with more determination, ‘Yes, I can.’

  ‘Good girl.’

  We heard a step on the stair.

  ‘Good luck.’

  Uncle Richard tapped on the door. It would never be Aunt Julia. The last time she was up here was to supervise the hanging of my new curtains, about ten years ago.

  I threw myself into a chair and picked up a book.

  ‘Upside down.’

  I righted it and called, ‘Come in.’

  ‘Ah, Jenny, good morning.’

  ‘Hello.’

  ‘Can you come downstairs a minute please? Your aunt and I would like a quick word.’

  I followed him down to the lounge, a symphony in pale blue and grey and with furniture I hadn’t realised was so desperately uncomfortable until I sprawled on Russell Checkland’s baggy, saggy stuff.

  Aunt Julia was livid. Absolutely livid. I could see it in her restless pacing and the angry glitter in her eyes.

  She wheeled round as I entered.

  ‘Go slowly,’ advised Thomas. ‘ Make her wait. It will either slow her down too, or she’ll explode. Either way is good. Just don’t let her rush you into saying or doing anything rash. ’

  I wasn’t asked to sit down. I’d lived in this house twenty years and still I felt I had to be asked to sit down. That wasn’t right. I’d never minded before, but now I did. My heart rate slowed a little, my legs straightened, and I lifted my head.

  ‘Well done.’

  ‘What have you been doing? What on earth do you think you’ve been doing? What have you been doing to make that disgusting man think –?’

  ‘That’s enough, Julia. Please sit down and calm yourself. Until we hear what Jenny has to say this may be no more than a storm in a tea cup. Now, Jenny,’ he continued kindly, ‘I think you must know what this is about.’

  Kind or not, I still hadn’t been asked to sit down. I was standing on the rug like a naughty schoolgirl and I was becoming a little angry.

  ‘Good for you, but use it, don’t waste it.’

  I raised my eyebrows at Uncle Richard. I would make him say it.

  He coughed quietly. ‘This morning I had a visit from Russell Checkland. He seems to be under the impression that you have agreed to marry him and visited my office to inform me of that fact. Is this actually true?’

  I took a breath, but Aunt Julia burst in from the other side of the room.

  ‘Of course it’s not true, Richard. How could it be? I can’t believe you didn’t throw him out of your office.’

  ‘Well, he’s quite a large young man and he was perfectly polite about it. And it’s really not good for business for clients to see people pitched, willy-nilly from our premises. Besides, as you can imagine, I questioned him closely and he was very definite. He has proposed marriage to our niece and she has accepted him.’

  She turned to me. ‘Say this isn’t true. Tell us he’s lying.’

  Since I couldn’t do any such thing, I remained silent.

  ‘Do I take it,’ said Uncle Richard, ‘that your silence means he is, in fact, telling the truth?’

  I took another breath, but Aunt Julia was off again. ‘I don’t care whether it’s true or not. It’s nonsense. It will never happen. She doesn’t know what she’s doing and he’s taken advantage of her. I want him prosecuted to the full extent of the law.’

  ‘My dear,’ he said, somewhat wearily. ‘May I point out that we still don’t know what we’re dealing with here, and until Jenny actually gets to tell us, we never will.’

  ‘ Hold on – there’s a car. Yes, the hero has arrived. Better late than never, but that’s a Checkland for you. And if he stopped off to buy more buckets on the way I think you might have a legitimate grievance. ’

  In the distance, I heard the bell ring and Mrs Finch’s voice at the door. A few seconds later, Russell walked in. He was tidily dressed although his tie was askew already and his hair beginning to escape the restraint of hair gel.

  ‘Hello, everyone,’ he said cheerily, apparently not noticing Defcon 1 in the drawing room, to say nothing of a traumatised fiancée rooted to the hearthrug.

  ‘There you are, future wife. You look very pretty today. I brought you these. Give us a kiss then.’

  With these provocative words he handed me a bunch of roses and kissed me on the cheek. I seriously wondered if he was too self-absorbed even to notice the atmosphere, but I’d misjudged him. He took my hand, squeezed it tightly, and led me to the sofa, sitting beside me and letting go only to say, ‘Good God, these cushions are uncomfortable. Don’t you dare buy any like these for our place, Jenny,’ and tossed a couple of Aunt Julia’s carefully chosen scatter cushions to the floor.

  As co
nciliatory openings went, this was a complete non-starter. Thomas moved closer.

  ‘ There’s no way out of this, Jenny. He’s going for broke here. Probably a good idea but you’re going to need balls of steel for this. Just hang in there. We’ll laugh about this one day. ’

  I was never going to laugh again.

  ‘So,’ he said cheerfully, ‘what are we all talking about then?’

  Or maybe I would.

  As you may suppose,’ said Uncle Richard, ‘we are discussing Jenny’s alleged engagement to you.’

  ‘Discussing? Is that what it’s called now? I suspect it’s more accurate to say that Julia has been emoting to such an extent that Jenny hasn’t been able to get a word in edgeways. Let me save everyone a great deal of time and effort. Your niece, that’s Jenny here, has done me the enormous honour of agreeing to be my wife. Sorry I’m a bit late,’ he said, turning to me. ‘I stopped off at the Register Office. They were very helpful and gave me all sorts of stuff. Here, have a look through this lot, tell me what you want, choose a date, and we’ll do the deed.’

  Aunt Julia was on her feet again. I turned cold and sweaty and for a moment thought I might throw up. She looked terrifying in her rage.

  ‘Margaret Thatcher with added attitude,’ said Thomas. ‘Don’t let any of this distress you. You’re going to be fine. He won’t let anything happen to you and there’s three of us and only two of them.’

  Russell still had a tight grip on my hand. His was warm, dry, and steady and I felt heat beginning to creep back into my body. He didn’t look in the least bothered and I began to suspect he was actually enjoying himself.

  ‘This so-called marriage will never take place,’ she declared. ‘As her legal guardians, we withhold consent –’

  ‘She’s twenty-eight, Julia, she doesn’t need your consent. She can do as she pleases.’

  No, I couldn’t, and he’d obviously forgotten that. I tugged on his hand. He raised my hand to his lips and winked at me. No, he hadn’t forgotten. ‘Will you trust me?’

  I nodded, but only once, still not sure.

  ‘I’m so sorry, Mr Checkland.’ Her voice dripped icy politeness. ‘Perhaps if you’d had the courtesy to consult her guardians before upsetting my niece with this ridiculous proposal then we could have explained to you and without any distress to poor Jenny, just why exactly this marriage, any marriage, can never take place.’