The shock of seeing him so unexpectedly after all these years had brought on the tears and immediately she was angry again, this time with herself. What a stupid reaction, she thought, I have so much to ask him and all I can do is cry.
‘It’s lovely to see you, Jen.’ Although he tactfully said nothing about her tears his kind words brought even more to her eyes and she tried to blink them away to stop them falling.
‘Oh, Jazz, you too … you have no idea.’ She wished she could think of something cool and amusing to say instead of weeping like an idiot. She was also uncomfortably aware that he looked very prosperous. It didn’t take a fashion designer’s eye to realise the childhood friend standing in front of her had done very well for himself since he left to work in London. Everything about him shouted money in the discreet way of the seriously wealthy.
‘You look … just wonderful.’
Realising belatedly she had spoken her thoughts aloud, she covered her mouth with her hand as if to stop any more gauche remarks escaping. He looked down at his feet and chuckled and she was suddenly aware her heedless comment had pleased as well as embarrassed him.
‘As you can see, I still haven’t grown any tact whilst you’ve been away,’ she said with a grimace.
‘Wouldn’t have it any other way, Jen … your outspokenness was always one of your best assets … along with those amazing …’ he paused and looked obviously at her chest before looking into her face again, ‘ … eyes.’
She laughed and the emotion in the air eased a little. ‘You’re still a cheeky bugger then, Jasper Carne.’
‘And you’re still a beautiful girl, Jennifer Lawrence.’
The smoothness of his flattering comment somehow shifted the delicate balance of the old familiarity between them and there was an awkward pause. She tried not to acknowledge a vague disappointment at this change in him, hoping that making flippant and suggestive remarks was not commonplace to him now.
She knew she was far from beautiful and his flattery had made her uncomfortable. He doesn’t need to do this with me, she thought before getting annoyed with herself again for analysing something so trivial.
For his part, Jasper had instantly berated himself for his mistake. The now-habitual flirtatious patter he used with the sophisticated women of his acquaintance felt totally inappropriate with Jenny. He was relieved by her next suggestion.
‘Come on, let me buy you coffee.’ Eager to get back to some much lighter level she grabbed his hand and impulsively pulled him into Sacha’s.
The time passed quickly and Jenny was aware people were looking, not at her but at Jasper. He looked out of place in his city suit amongst the ripped jeans and baggy fleece tops. The close-cropped steel grey hair and rimless glasses added to his air of expensiveness as much as the outrageous masculinity of the heavy-duty watch that glinted from beneath a crisp white cuff. There was no sign now of the scruffy, anxious teenager with the abusive home life she had befriended as a girl and she felt inordinately proud to be his friend.
She was well aware of the stares of the other women in the coffee house as well as the studious ignoring of him by the young men who were also there. Beneath their youthful nonchalance the envy was almost palpable. She allowed herself a small smile as she rested her elbows on the table and cradled her cup with both hands. The smile had been seen and was, apparently, infectious.
‘So ... ’ he grinned at her over the top of his cappuccino, ‘are you married with lots of kids, Jen?’
She was sure he would have noted the ringless fingers on her left hand but she answered lightly.
‘Me? No. You?’
His laugh was no more than a private breath of hidden secrets.
‘Noooo … plenty of women, I suppose you could say … but none of them seemed right somehow.’ He gave a faint shrug. ‘I do live with someone … mainly because she wants it that way … she’s a nice girl ...’ A ‘but’ lingered in the air between them and he was aware of her look of enquiry, ‘but I don’t think it’s ... lurve.’ The heavy mockery covered his embarrassment at the word.
It had been many years since they had confided closely in each other as teenagers. They had needed each other then. She had tended the wounds from the casual brutality he received from his father and older brother and he had held her hand as she cried over dead pets and her parent’s indifference to her.
‘But what about you, Jen? Surely someone must have snapped you up?’ His eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled at her and she wanted to stroke the kindliness of his face. Why couldn’t he be Jimmy? Why couldn’t Jimmy be this kind?
‘Well, yes, I do live with someone, Jazz. It’s not someone you know though,’ she said, anticipating his next question. ‘He is … he’s...’
She thought about Jimmy. Yes, just what was he? His total lack of concern at the emotional pain he repeatedly caused her renewed her anger. More than that she became aware she was embarrassed and ashamed of herself for staying with such a man and letting him treat her like some sort of inconsequential drudge.
All of a sudden, as she struggled to find something positive to say about Jimmy, she was aware of her own collusion in her situation, aware of the times she had allowed herself to be deluded into thinking he cared for her.
Now, knowing Jasper was watching her expression thoughtfully, she wanted to tell him about her life with Jimmy. She could never have told anyone else the truth of how she lived, and indeed she had never confided in anyone since Jasper had left all those years ago. Only now was she was suddenly aware of the burden she had carried ever since she had met Jimmy bloody Fisher.
‘Do you think we could go somewhere more private?’ She was aware her request could be misread and she was annoyed to feel her face redden. She was grateful to him for the fact that even if it sounded as if he was being propositioned he did not let it show.
‘Okay, how about my place?’ He read her face and laughed. ‘Sorry ... I’m confusing you. I meant my home down here ... not my home in London. You know … the farm.’
‘What! The farm? You’ve got to be joking!’ She frowned at him in confusion.
‘Nope ... it’s true. I own it now ... it came to me after Jem died.’
A brief silence between them acknowledged that they both knew Jeremy Carne, Jasper’s elder brother, had recently died a totally predictable alcohol induced death but Jenny was also wondering how Jasper could bear to go back to such a place of remembered violence and unhappiness.
‘Well, the fact is the farm was always mine, not Jem’s. Dad left it to me when he died and I let Jem live at the farm and run it ... or rather, run it into the ground. It wasn’t a good move, but I couldn’t be bothered to come down and fight with him about it. So he let it get run-down. The poor old place is a bit of a wreck now, I’m afraid. I think Dad left it to me because he knew Jem would ruin it. I don’t think he expected me to let Jem stay on there.’
‘Or maybe he felt he owed you that much after driving you away!’ Even after all this time her indignation could still be roused on his behalf. He smiled at her ruefully.
‘I used to love the place when Mum was alive. It was a wonderful home then. You know, it struck me, once I’d got away, it was just that Dad couldn’t run the farm and look after Jem and me as well after Mum died. When Jem got too big to take his anger out on … and would probably have given as good as he got anyway there was only me to get mad at.’
He laughed shortly but there was little genuine humour in it. Jenny said nothing, thinking only of the mental and physical pain Jasper had endured there and wondering if such a cool and simplistic explanation could really ease his emotional pain. He seemed, on the face of it, to have come to terms with his past but it was hard to be sure. His words seemed nothing more than some form of Band-Aid to stop the reopening of an old stab wound to the heart.
‘Anyway, I thought I would renovate it and use it for holidays ... maybe let it out to holidaymakers.’
Even as he spoke his mind had alread
y moved on to wondering why Jenny wanted to talk to him in private. He was shrewd enough to know she needed to tell him something important to her and he guessed it was something to do with the brittle state she was in at the moment. Her easy tears of earlier spoke of some sort of extreme distress and he had hidden his alarm at the sight of them.
The Jenny Lawrence he remembered had long since given up on tears, finding refuge in anger instead. He suspected she needed to talk through some sort of crisis with him and wondered if he would still feel the need to help her as he had done when they were young.
He knew the answer to that almost before he had finished thinking it, knowing that if she needed help he would help her. That was how it would be, it was how it had always been between them and despite the intervening years he knew he wouldn’t hesitate. He had let her down long ago by defecting to London, he wouldn't let her down now.
He had been stunned to see her again, not liking to admit to himself he had been cruising the narrow streets of Dehwelyans at length in the hope of seeing her. He had had no need to linger in the town once his meeting with the family solicitor was concluded and he hadn’t needed to get out of his car when he saw her. He knew she had not seen him but everything within his chest had constricted at the sight of her and he had known he could not just pass her by.
He had been surprised by how little she had changed. True, her hair was a little shorter, her figure a little more full and maybe there was a hint of tension about her mouth but she still drew him like a magnet. Why that should be was something he had never been able to explain.
For the briefest moment his mind filled with pictures of Amanda, his partner, soon to be his wife, waiting in his London flat, filling it with beautiful things and having drinks parties with all their friends. He could hear her explaining his current absence to them.
‘Oh yes, Jasper has just nipped down to tidy up the loose ends on his inheritance.’ He smiled wryly to himself knowing she would make it sound important even though the farm was in a ruinous state.
‘The property is in the middle of nowhere of course but it should be good as a weekend hideaway. It’s a farm but I really can’t see us keeping cows ... much too smelly.’
He could hear her girly laughter as she screwed up her lovely face in a comical expression of mock dismay for the amusement of her friends. No sooner had he had these thoughts than he wondered why he had felt the need to swap thoughts of one woman with another, somehow safer, woman and he closed the door of the silver Mercedes behind Jenny with a distinct feeling of unease at his own behaviour.
They travelled to the farm in silence, each of them busy with their thoughts. Jasper noticing anew the familiar lanes of his childhood wanderings and the usual tumble of luxurious undergrowth in the ravines running down to the sea. He had tried not to visit his native county too many times since he had left to try his luck in London over twenty years ago, there had been too many painful memories then.
So his new life had taken over and he had been too busy making money to realise his real roots still lay elsewhere. Now a feeling of satisfaction grew as he saw how little had changed here in that time and he looked forward to leaning into the strong, west wind again and feeling it kiss his face as the returned prodigal. The lost-in-time quality of the place was still here even though some of the derelict barns had now been made into discreet dwellings nestling amongst newly created gardens.
Even that felt satisfying to him and he was relieved that they had gained a new use and not been allowed to crumble back into the earth. It seemed nothing could mar his return and he began to feel he had truly come home, although why this trip should feel different from all the others he could not say, unless it was because Jenny was sitting silently by his side. Was she some sort of jigsaw piece that had been missing every other time he had visited?
Jenny’s thoughts were less coherent. Her mind churned with thoughts of Jimmy. What was he doing now? Had he missed her? Was he bothered? Then her thoughts returned to the safety of Jasper and she wondered what she was doing in this expensive car with him. How was she going to tell to him about her situation? Why was she telling him about it? Was she expecting him to come up with some sort of solution to her problem? Perhaps she was, but it would still be her problem to sort out in the end.
Gradually, in the renewed intimacy of their shared silence, she found some sort of ease from her confusion and, forgetting about herself, began to wonder instead how Jasper felt about returning to his childhood home. She glanced at his face but it was unreadable. She was not to know that to survive in his chosen world he had long since mastered the art of dissembling.
Intrigued, she tried to tune into him, to feel what he was feeling, just as she had done as a child. Here she was more successful. She closed her eyes and could almost feel his heart beat more rapidly as they came to another well-remembered view, another mental milestone in their shared youth.
The countryside around them was changing as they drove from the soft air of the south coast of the peninsula across the high and stony moorland to Jasper’s farm on the harsher north coast. The cliffs on this coastline were high and black and the many coves were armed with unforgiving splinters of rock that had menaced sailors throughout time.
The expansive undergrowth of the southern seaward valleys had gradually given way to stoic, crouching plants and grim, frowning trees that stood with heads defiantly down, their branches streaming like windswept hair behind them as the northern wind blew relentlessly from the sea.
The ruined engine houses of tin mines stood all around, their broken chimneys rearing stark and uncompromising against the sky, silent castles of a long-dead industrial age, reduced now to gaunt ghosts of the past amid the beauty, like beggars at a wedding.
In the folds of land between them tiny hamlets of granite farms and low cottages huddled together like old women gossiping, speaking of hard times and the precarious balance between existence and ruin. Their early sons were all gone now, eaten by the ground or the sea but it was still a land that grew hard sons, like Jasper’s father, like Jasper’s brother Jem … like Jasper.
The car rocked as it splashed through puddled potholes, raising Jenny from her introspection, making her aware the car had turned onto a cart track. At the end of the track, just a hundred yards from the sea, lay the old farmhouse, coiled against the land like a watchful adder. All at once she was jolted back to their childhood and it was a far from pleasant experience. Immediately she could feel again the cold rain dripping onto her hair and running down her forehead as she waited for Jasper under the leaning hawthorns at the entrance to the track.
As a teenager she had long since stopped calling for him at the farm, embarrassed by his father’s sly and suggestive remarks about her presence there. Jasper had usually hurried her away, either to the cave at the foot of the cliff if it was fine weather or to one of the stone barns nearby where, with musty-smelling blankets about their shoulders, they had done their homework and swapped fantasies about their future by the light of an old storm lantern.
She had been his closest friend then, almost his only friend, and she had preferred his company to that of the girls she knew. Their peers had at first regarded this friendship as odd and there had been many jibes but this hadn’t been enough to keep them apart. Eventually their inseparability had just settled down into being just another strange but undisputed fact, no longer worthy of comment.
She smiled to herself now at the memory of the growing awareness of sex that had intruded on their lives when she was sixteen. Like so many times before she had held Jasper tightly, trying to comfort him as he tried not to cry over his father’s latest treatment of him when, with no words between them, the mood had suddenly changed.
Without raising his head from her breasts he had raised a tentative hand to touch them. This part of her anatomy was still almost as new to her as it was to him and she found herself nervously eager for the experience. There had never been any question of her stopping him, she h
ad had no intention of saying no. She needed this attention just as much as he needed comfort. He had kissed her mouth then and pulled her down until she was beneath him in the hay.
This much she knew from films and books was how it went but what to expect next was still unknown. There had been whispered rumours between the girls in the school playground about what happened between men and women but such subjects had not been taught, even in biology class, so she could not be sure that what she heard was the truth. What she had picked up seemed improbable to her but she had no close girl friends to ask for confirmation and it had simply never occurred to her to talk to Jasper about such a subject.
Her mother too had been no help in this respect. Jenny had been too embarrassed to ask her for information after her mother had once bluntly declared, apropos of nothing, that she would not tolerate Jenny bringing any boyfriends home and, if she was stupid enough to get pregnant, she was on her own and she need not think she could continue to live at home with an illegitimate child.
Jenny had clearly recognised this as some sort of warning shot across her bows and since then she had never dreamed of sharing anything of an intimate nature with her mother. It was a small loss, confiding in either of her parents was something she had never done. Confidences had never been invited and, except for Jasper, her world had been solitary. Now he was about to help her find out what it was that happened between man and woman.
His hands, at first hesitant, had became more confident as he sensed her unspoken acquiescence and as he moved on to explore her body his movements became ever more urgent, ever more insistent. Even now she could remember the heat of her willingness, the frantic undoing of clothing, the feel of his weight on top of her.
She had been surprised to feel his hardness and even more surprised to hear him groan as he moved against her. His breathing seemed too loud and when he whispered her name his voice was strangely hoarse. He kissed her nipples and something primal had taken over and she had offered herself in obvious invitation.
The Catalyst Page 5