Running From Love

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Running From Love Page 3

by Jen Silver


  For many years she thought she just wasn’t interested in sex, but when she met Walter everything changed. During the staff Christmas party, Lydia asked him why she felt so comfortable in his company. He laughed and said, “I thought that was obvious.” Seeing her look of incomprehension, he added, “I’m gay and so are you.”

  “I’m not.” The thought had never occurred to her. Just as it hadn’t crossed her mind that the always impeccably turned out Head of Geography was gay. She only knew that she felt at ease with Walter in a way she didn’t with her husband or any of the boys she had dated during high school and university.

  Walter hadn’t let her off the hook.

  “Right. Next Friday, you’re coming to a bar with me, and we’ll see about that.”

  The expedition had been a revelation. Suddenly things made sense, like the schoolgirl crush she’d had on her high school history teacher, Miss Thompson. She had thought it was the subject matter that made her want to stay behind after class and ask questions, to bask in the teacher’s praise of Lydia’s work. There had been other girls at school and university, women in her first teaching jobs who had made an impression on her; some she admired from afar, others she had fleeting friendships with. There had been one, the PE teacher at her first school, who had approached her. They had gone out to dinner a few times and then that stopped suddenly. Lydia had been hurt, she thought they were developing a friendship. It was only after Walter’s intervention, years later, that she realised the poor woman had been wooing her. What a waste. All that time. Lydia had looked her up, the PE teacher, after she left her husband. She had moved on, taken up a teaching post in Singapore or Hong Kong, somewhere far away.

  The front door opened and shut. Lydia closed her laptop. Time now to make up for those lost years and give her full attention to the woman who was here now. Beth.

  †

  Beth’s smile was what had captured her the first time Lydia saw her across the staff room, but it was looking a little forced this evening. Lydia knew she had gone to see Samantha, to give her the news in person.

  “How did it go?” As if she needed to ask since the strain showed on her lover’s face. Lydia wasn’t at all interested in how Sam Wade might be feeling, but the impact on Beth concerned her.

  “Come and sit down. I’ll get you a drink.”

  Beth nodded, managing another weak smile. She shrugged out of her coat and hung it on the end of the bannister. Following Lydia into the kitchen, she flopped wearily into one of the chairs by the breakfast table.

  “So what happened? She didn’t get aggressive, did she?” Lydia had offered to go with her, but Beth had assured her she could, and should, handle it on her own.

  “No. I think she was more upset about Hermy being in the cattery all week.”

  “You’re kidding.” Lydia brought two glasses of white wine over to the table and sat down next to Beth.

  “Not really. It was a shock. Obviously she had no idea. I don’t like hurting her.” Beth looked close to tears now.

  “But you do want to be with me, don’t you?” Lydia hated seeing Beth’s beautiful brown eyes glistening with moisture.

  “Of course I do. I just wish it didn’t have to be like this.”

  “Like what?” Somehow Lydia knew there was more to Beth’s upset than having to tell her wife she had fallen in love with someone else.

  Beth’s tears were flowing freely now.

  “Please, Beth. Tell me. I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong?” The words came easily. How many times in her career had she said the same words to any number of unhappy students? But this time there was a heaviness on her heart, a tightness in her chest.

  “Like…having to pretend we’re not together. Having to park my car two streets away, and drag my work here in a shopping trolley like some old lady with her daily groceries.” Once started, the words poured out. “Not being able to go out anywhere or do things together. Will we even be able to go on holiday without you being afraid someone from the school will see us? Parents and kids at the airport or in a motorway services?”

  Lydia reached over and took one of Beth’s hands. She stroked it gently. “I’m sorry. But it won’t always be like this. I know it’s tough on you. Please be patient. Another six months.”

  “Six months!”

  “Until the end of the summer term. And then we’ll go away together. I promise. You choose where you want to go and I’ll be there with you.”

  “I thought you always worked through the holidays.”

  Lydia sat back in her chair and took a sip of wine. It was true she rarely took time off. But it had been a hard two years, making major changes in the school to bring it up to a higher standard.

  “Well, for two weeks this summer I’m all yours.”

  A smile erupted on Beth’s tear-streaked face. “Two weeks. Seriously?”

  “Yes. I’m warning you, though. By the end of the two weeks you’ll probably be thoroughly fed up with me.”

  “Is there anywhere you want to go?”

  “No. Like I said, I’ll leave it up to you. I’m not keen on lying on a beach all day but I would like somewhere near the sea.”

  Beth’s brilliant smile emerged and she picked up her wine glass. She peered over the rim at her, eyes now glinting mischievously. “You’ll go anywhere with me?”

  Lydia returned her smile with a wide one of her own. “Within reason, sweetheart. Somewhere not too far away. We don’t want to waste days of our two weeks flying to Australia and recovering from jet lag, do we?”

  †

  Several times during the day Sam thought of calling Troy and saying she had come down with the flu and couldn’t come to their party. She hadn’t felt motivated to go into Leeds or Manchester to look for a present either, although after trailing around every floor of Harvey’s department store in Halifax, she wished she had made the effort.

  Finally, after much deliberation, she decided on a Chinese-patterned vase. The boys loved flowers. You can never have too many vases, she thought. That might not be strictly true, but she would stick to that line if questioned on her choice.

  Mission accomplished, she treated herself to a full, fat cappuccino at Costa Coffee before heading home.

  The next task, which she had been putting off for two days, was to phone her parents to let them know. They lived at the other end of the country in Cornwall, so she could put it off indefinitely. Or least until Easter, when they might expect her and Beth to visit them during the school’s two week break.

  Sam knew she would be in tears as soon as her mother expressed sympathy, so it was a relief to find herself talking to the answering machine when she called. She left a message asking them to call back and hoped she might be out at the party by that time. She didn’t even want to consider what her brothers would have to say about the situation.

  Hermy was stretched out on the sofa when she arrived back from the shopping expedition, waking as she heard Sam come in. She immediately rolled onto her back, legs splayed, inviting Sam to scratch her tummy.

  Sam obliged and the cat purred contentedly. “What a floozy you are.”

  Hermy ignored her comment and the purring grew louder.

  “I’m going out this evening so I want you to behave yourself. No wild orgies, please.”

  No response, just more purring.

  “Fine. I was thinking of getting a fish tank. I know that’s why you visit Scott and Barb’s house so often. Would you like that? You could watch the fish here all day in the comfort of your own home. But you have to promise not to try and eat them.”

  Sam grimaced. Only two days and she was already talking to the cat as if expecting her to answer. But the idea of an aquarium was taking hold. The only problem was that, when she was away, someone would have to come in to feed the fish. She would need to have someone look after Hermy, too. There was no way Sam was going to put her in a cattery. Beth’s defection hurt, but the way she had abandoned Hermy as well made Sam wonde
r if she had ever really known her.

  †

  The party was in full swing when she arrived. Sam had planned to get there earlier so she could talk to Troy on his own, but her mother rang just as she was deciding which bottle of wine to take.

  Hearing her mother’s cheerful tone, Sam couldn’t face telling her about Beth. Instead she gave her an upbeat version of her trip to Taormina, enthusing about the tours of the ancient Greek theatre and the Saracen castle perched on an isolated rock with a commanding view of the surrounding sea.

  “You sounded a bit down when you phoned earlier. Is everything okay?” Even from the other end of the country, her mother would pick up on her moods.

  “Just a bit tired from the travelling. I think I’m coming down with a cold.”

  After she’d ended the call, Sam gave in to another bout of crying. She then had to go back upstairs to wash her face and apply some make-up, although her inexpert application of eyeliner made her look like an extra from The Rocky Horror Picture Show. She cleaned it all off again. At least the short walk to Troy’s house in the cold evening air would help explain the redness of her cheeks. Giving her hair another run through with the comb, she decided it would have to do. She’d just lurk in a dark corner.

  Troy greeted her at the door with a big smile on his face. They must have started celebrating earlier in the day, Sam thought. He gave her a hug and accepted the gifts—a bottle of New Zealand red and the wrapped vase.

  He looked over her head. “Where’s Shorty?”

  Beth was only two inches shorter than she was, but that had always been Troy’s nickname for her.

  Sam sniffed. “I’ve lost her.”

  “What do you mean? You’ve lost her between your house and here? She does know the way.”

  “I’ve really lost her.” She couldn’t hold the tears back any longer. This was the scene she had hoped to avoid but just feeling his comforting arm around her shoulder was enough to set her off.

  “Oh shit.” He held onto her while she cried. Music was playing somewhere in the house but she couldn’t focus on it enough to recognise the song. After a few minutes he pulled back and looked at her. “Okay. Go on up to our bedroom. I’ll get us something to drink and let Webby know where we are.”

  Sam followed his instructions and sat down on the bed. When Troy appeared a few minutes later she was just on the point of lying down and curling up into a ball. He handed her a glass with a murky looking liquid inside.

  “What’s this?”

  “Some sort of punch. I don’t know exactly what’s in it.”

  “Last time I drank an unidentified concoction, I passed out and lost six hours of my life.”

  “You don’t have to drink it.” He perched on the bed next to her. “So, come on. Tell me. What’s happened?”

  “Beth’s gone. She left me.”

  “Gone? Gone where?” Troy sounded incredulous.

  “Six months, Troy. She’s been cheating on me all this time and I had no idea. What kind of an idiot does that make me?”

  He put his arm around her again and held on while she cried some more.

  “I’m so sorry, Sam. You should have told me yesterday when I called. I wouldn’t have insisted you come tonight.”

  “I didn’t want to spoil your big day.”

  They sat in silence for a few more minutes while Sam’s breathing calmed. Troy handed her a Kleenex and she blew her nose.

  “Six months. Wow! And I thought we would be celebrating your second anniversary in April. Looks like you barely made it past a year.”

  “I know. Not exactly a great advert for gay marriage.” She took another tissue from the box he was holding. “You said there was someone you wanted me to meet. I don’t think I’m ready for that right now.”

  “No, I guess not. I’ll give you her details and you can call her when you’re ready. It’s about a research job but it sounds like it’s a few months off. I’ve told her you’re the best.”

  Sam managed a smile at that. Twenty years earlier she had met Troy when she did research for him for his first novel. He wrote historical fiction and she had been able to unearth some useful facts. This was pre-Google when the World Wide Web was in its infancy. That kind of research had been her bread and butter in those days.

  “From what Sandra’s told me about the job, it sounds ideal for you, especially now. A chance to get away from everything for a few weeks. And it’s in Cornwall so you could probably fit in a visit to your parents.”

  “Sandra? Are you talking about Sandra Morton?” Sam sat up straighter.

  “Yes. We’re old mates, and when she asked if I knew anyone who could do this particular job, I recommended you.”

  “Wow, thanks.” The Morton Agency was well known and working for them would provide a useful addition to her CV, along with sizeable remuneration.

  Buoyed by this news, Sam downed a good portion of the punch and declared herself ready to take on the world.

  “You’re still looking a bit blotchy.”

  “Tell her I’ve got a cold. No, don’t tell her that. She won’t want to talk to me if she thinks I’m contagious.”

  Troy laughed. “Look, I still think it’s better if you meet her another time.”

  “But she might give the job to someone else.” Sam grabbed his arm. “And I’m going to need all the work I can get now to keep up the mortgage payments on the house.” She’d already been assailed in the middle of the night with visions of herself and Hermy sleeping rough.

  He shook his head but agreed to make the introduction only after she submitted to his expert use of makeup. With Troy’s makeover and another shot of punch, Sam could feel her professional mode kicking in enough to carry her through what amounted to a job interview. Whatever it was that required her to spend two weeks in Cornwall, she was ready to face the challenge.

  Part Two: Temperley Cliffs – Front Nine

  Chapter Three

  Jordan Hillier glanced around the table, assessing her colleagues. The fact that she was the only woman on the team of golf professionals could have been intimidating except that she was clearly the youngest and fittest.

  Jeff Palmer was the senior member at sixty years old and a family friend of the owner of the estate. This gave him the right, so he thought, to throw his weight around. And he had a fair bit of weight to throw. His extended belly was evidence of too much time spent in the 19th Hole consuming beer and bacon baps. She doubted he had ever seen the inside of a gym. He had seated himself at the head of the table when they arrived in the meeting room.

  Sitting across from her was Roger Smith. They had worked together at her first job in a small club in Staffordshire. As a newly qualified pro, she’d had to put up with his sexist comments and insistence on calling her Jordy. “You girls only play half the course, Jordy,” was his favourite put down. She wondered how he was going to cope with this two-week session of all women students.

  Tony Hammond, sitting next to her, fancied his chances and had already hit on her the previous evening. Knowing they would be working closely together for the next fortnight, she had tried to let him down gently. It seemed he hadn’t got the message as he had twice already pressed his leg against hers. At least he could carry off the stud look in the uniform they were wearing—bright red trousers, white shirts with red trim on the collars and sleeves. Their names were embroidered over the left breast above the estate’s logo.

  Jeff passed a folder to each of them. “Lady Temperley and I went through the applications last week. We have sixteen ladies arriving today and have divided them into four teams of four.”

  There was a rustling of papers as they opened their folders and looked at the forms to find out who they would be teaching. Names, ages, marital status, previous golf experience, and why they wanted to take the course were included on the forms. The only information missing was address and phone number.

  Tony peeked at Jordan’s papers. “Hey, you’ve got more singles than me.”

>   “This isn’t a dating agency. We’re teaching them to play golf,” Jordan retorted.

  Roger put his oar in too. “You don’t want to get on the wrong side of Jordy, mate.”

  “I’ve given you the two left-handers, Tony.”

  “Aha. That means you swing both ways, eh, Tony lad.” Roger couldn’t resist the sly comment.

  Jeff intervened sternly. “Let’s keep it clean, guys. Can we try to keep the innuendos to a minimum for these sessions, please?”

  “Kind of hard to avoid, Jeff, when you’re explaining the difference between stiff shafts and flexible ones.” Roger winked at Jordan.

  “Not to mention putting it in the hole,” Tony added.

  “All right, all right! Can I just remind you this is a trial run? Lady Temperley has invested a lot of money into setting this up. And you’re all getting paid to act professionally. I personally would like to see this as a long-term job. It’s a pretty cushy number compared to selling chocolate bars and ball markers in your average pro shop.”

  Jordan nodded her head in agreement. Living here was a definite improvement on her last place of employment at a municipal course near Wolverhampton. She had a sea view from her bedroom window and most of the course ran near the cliffs. It wasn’t really a links course as the beach was a hundred yards down a steep cliff face. She would describe it more as rolling parkland. The course designer had been able to incorporate most of the mature trees on the estate, adding some water features along with numerous sand traps. It was the best private course she had seen in her fifteen-year career as a golf professional.

  Tony looked up from studying his student info. “If this is so important to Lady T, where is she?”

  Jordan had been wondering the same thing. She, Tony, and Roger had arrived on Friday as per their instructions. Jeff had met them and explained the programme that would start with the arrival of the students mid-day on Monday. They were to use their time on the weekend to familiarise themselves with the course and the training facilities, which included a state-of-the art driving range. Jordan was pleased to be issued an iPad to use for giving the students immediate visual feedback on what their swing looked like.

 

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