by Helen Lowrie
I’d never experienced jealousy before; in fact it was a complaint common among my previous girlfriends that I was devoid of that particular emotion. Many of them assumed it was arrogance that prevented me from behaving like a possessive jerk but it wasn’t arrogance. The truth was I’d never had a girlfriend that I wasn’t prepared to lose. Kat wasn’t my girlfriend; she was a friend; a sort of sister – maybe; either way it made no sense to feel jealous at all. Knocked for six, I ducked around the side of the pub and out of sight before they saw me. In all honesty Liam was just about the only guy I might consider good enough for Kat. He was a better choice for her: strong, well adjusted, reliable, and I could trust him to look after her. But Kat and I had only just found each other again – she was important to me. If nothing else I needed her help with the whole Jasmine situation. I just didn’t feel ready to share Kat yet.
A quiet voice of reason struggled to be heard in the emotional chaos of my mind. What had I actually witnessed? What if they were just being friendly? Lately I had got the impression that Liam was finally getting over Cally; that he was moving on and focusing on work. But he wouldn’t go after Kat would he? Shaking my head I let out a deep breath. It was unlike me to jump to conclusions. With a fresh resolution to keep my head and give my friends the benefit of the doubt, I walked over to the front door and stepped into the bright and clingy heat of the pub.
‘Is Kat OK?’ Maire said, immediately addressing me with concerned eyes. My stomach tightened.
‘What do you mean? What’s happened?’
‘Adam was acting like an eejit. I don’t know what he said to her but Kat stormed out.’ My gaze flicked over to where Adam was standing at the bar, my jaw tightening. He caught my look and cringed visibly, with an apologetic shrug of his shoulders. ‘Liam went after her to see if she was all right but they haven’t come back yet,’ Maire added.
A strange mixture of worry and relief churned in my gut as I headed out the back door and made a beeline for Kat across the wet grass.
‘Kat? Are you all right?’ Her face was taut and her fists clenched tightly in her lap as I approached. ‘What happened?’
‘They didn’t tell you? I freaked out, trashed the place, spilled everyone’s drinks – I’m a freak.’
‘Don’t say that, Kat, it’s not true.’ She stared at me defiantly and every fibre in my body begged to reach out and hold her, to reassure her that I wouldn’t give up on her that easily, but the general effect Kat had on me, the way she made me feel, was disconcerting. As a compromise, I reached forward and draped my jacket around her shoulders to keep her warm.
‘You find your phone?’ Liam asked, getting to his feet.
‘Yeah, thanks,’ I said, handing him back the keys to the clubhouse.
‘I’ll head back inside – give you two some privacy.’
‘Thank you, Liam; you’re much nicer to me than I deserve,’ Kat said.
‘No worries,’ Liam shrugged, as he walked away.
I sat down heavily in the space he’d vacated. ‘Do you want to tell me what Adam said to upset you?’
Kat laughed bitterly. ‘He didn’t say anything. It was too hot – crowded – I felt kind of trapped. Adam was just being friendly and I completely lost it – I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t apologise. I shouldn’t have left you on your own like that.’
She glared at me. ‘I wasn’t on my own and I’m a grown woman – I don’t need babysitting.’
‘That wasn’t what I meant, Kat. I’m just glad you’re OK. You are, aren’t you?’
‘Yeah,’ she said with a sigh. ‘But I should probably leave Wildham.’
‘No. Why?’
‘I don’t fit in here, Jamie.’
‘That’s bollocks. Everyone who’s met you loves you – you just need to give yourself more time to adjust.’
She shook her head. ‘I’m never gonna be a Jasmine, or a Rose, or a Poppy. I’m just a weed, Jamie – a sodding dandelion or something.’
I laughed. ‘If you’re a weed then so am I, Kat. We came from the same place; had the exact same start in life. But you’re right. You’re not some fancy, ornamental garden plant – you’re a wildflower: rare, resilient and naturally beautiful.’
She snorted. ‘Could you get any cheesier?’ Her face was averted and hidden in shadow while her fingers worried at the edge of her plaster cast. ‘We may have had the same start but you got away – you made something of yourself.’
‘Kat, look at me.’ She lifted her eyes to mine and the dark directness of her gaze almost made me lose my train of thought. ‘You do like it here, don’t you?’
‘Yes.’
‘And you like my friends? Some of them, anyway?’
‘Yes.’ The air around us felt heavy with tension, despite the recent storm, and I had to summon up every last drop of willpower to keep from kissing her.
‘So stay – give it more time, please.’ She moistened her lip with the tip of her tongue and I thought I might lose my mind.
‘OK,’ she said, a smile touching her eyes.
‘OK, good.’ I cleared my throat. ‘Are you ready to go back inside?’
She grimaced. ‘Do we have to? I’m ashamed.’
‘Don’t be; people only want to know that you’re all right and you’ll have to face my friends eventually – but if you’d rather just go home we can.’
‘No, you’re right,’ she said, sighing. ‘Anyway, I should apologise to Adam; it’s his birthday after all.’ Kat stood up, unconsciously smoothing a hand down over her lean denim-clad thigh.
‘Knowing Adam, he was probably downright obnoxious and doesn’t deserve an apology,’ I said, rising to my feet beside her.
On our return to the pub my friends greeted Kat with casual warmth, as if nothing had happened. She made a general apology, offering to pay for any damage and a whole round of drinks, and her efforts were waved off and dismissed with good humour. Refusing a seat, Kat remained standing close to me at the bar, head held high, and by the time we left for home she had begun to relax again.
The night air was considerably cooler and fresher now that the storm had passed.
‘Are you sure you don’t mind walking? We can stay and get a lift with the others or I can call a cab?’ I said.
‘No, I’m happy to walk.’ As we strolled Kat casually slipped her arm through mine and I secretly thrilled at the simple act – so innocuous but so welcome. ‘Your friends are lovely,’ she said.
‘I’m relieved you think so.’
‘They don’t curse as much as the people I’m used to.’
‘That may be a middle-class thing,’ I cringed, ‘I’m not sure.’
Kat shrugged. ‘I don’t understand half of what they talk about but they are kind. Especially Liam – he’s not nearly as fierce as he looks, more like a gentle giant.’
‘Yeah. He’s been a good friend to me over the years.’
My sentence tailed off as it dawned on me that, for the first time ever, I had an urge to talk; to tell Kat things that I had never told anyone. I wanted her to know that my life had not been as idyllic as she might think – to reassure her that we were not so different. The impulse to volunteer personal information was alien and unnerving but then I reminded myself that my stubborn inability to share had been reason enough for women to leave me in the past, permanently.
‘You probably don’t remember Ellen, my mum?’ I began.
She hesitated, seemingly surprised by my question. ‘I do actually. I only met her once but I remember.’
‘Really? What did she say?’
‘It wasn’t so much what she said that stayed with me … It was the day they came to take you away. We’d already said goodbye to each other and your dad had taken you out to the car. I was sitting on the stairs while your case worker talked to your mum.’ Kat paused and my pulse thumped in my ears as I waited for her to continue. ‘She was softly spoken and pretty, with pale wispy blonde hair. I remember staring at her scarf. It was pale blue with
little pink roses on it and I remember thinking that she looked gentle and kind – just like a mother from a fairy tale. I didn’t think she had noticed me but as she left she took off her scarf, draped it round my neck and said goodbye, as if we were friends. I wore that scarf everywhere for weeks – it was the prettiest thing anyone had ever given me – until somebody stole it.’
I swallowed. ‘I’m glad you met, even if it was only brief. She was a great mum, unreservedly kind and generous. She never got angry, never raised her hand or her voice, and never had a bad word to say about anyone. If anything she was too soft on me, let me get away with too much. And she was a terrible cook,’ I added with a smile. ‘She tried hard – she was always trying to fatten me up – but every new recipe she attempted went wrong in one way or another.’ I paused, unsettled by the influx of memories I’d evoked. I could almost hear my mum’s voice, smell her perfume, and taste her burnt tomato soup.
‘Do you mind me asking how she died?’ Kat said quietly.
I braced myself. Saying the words aloud made it more real but for once I wanted to say them. ‘It was sudden – a brain aneurysm. I was supposed to be doing my homework and Dad was finishing up for the day on the nursery. Mum called for me to come and lay the table for dinner but I was watching something silly on TV. I was slow to respond and when I got there she was lying on the floor, already dead.’
Kat sucked in a breath, her arm tightening in mine. ‘Fuck. I’m so sorry.’
The starlit sky was steadily clouding over again and the sweeping headlights of cars passing on the road were growing more intermittent. I kept my eyes on the dimly lit path ahead as we walked. ‘It was a shock – obviously – but, weirdly, a part of me wasn’t surprised at all. Things were going too well for me; I had great new parents and I was happy. I think deep down I’d known it couldn’t last. I assumed it was my fault that she’d died. Other people tried to tell me otherwise but I wouldn’t believe them. They just couldn’t understand.’
‘I understand,’ Kat said softly.
I stopped. The lump of emotion in my throat threatened to choke me and I swallowed hard. ‘You’re probably the only person I know who can,’ I said, turning to meet her gaze. Her cheeks were streaked with silent silver tears. It was time to confess. ‘I went back for you, you know. After Mum’s funeral I made Dad take me back to the Plumleys’ to look for you. I needed you. I needed to know that you were all right, that you still cared.’
‘I’m so sorry that I wasn’t there,’ Kat whispered.
‘No, I’m sorry – I waited too long Kat. I should never have left without you in the first place.’ We stood shaking our heads at each other at the side of the road and then Kat reached up and kissed me, her mouth softly pressed to mine and salty with tears. It was unlike any previous kiss: solemn, drawn-out and saturated with long-held compassion. Just as I was tempted to deepen it she pulled away, wiping beneath her eyes with her fingertips.
‘We were just kids,’ she said firmly. She was right but I couldn’t speak yet so I just nodded. ‘How about this – I’ll forgive you, if you’ll forgive me?’
‘Done,’ I said gruffly.
Kat released a shaky sigh as she hooked her arm back through mine and we started to walk again. ‘You still had your Dad and Liam though, right?’
‘Yeah,’ I said, still recovering from Kat’s soul-wrenching kiss. ‘He was a good man, Reg Southwood: proud, hardworking, capable – but we weren’t close. He never once offered me a hug; he wasn’t that sort of man. With Mum gone he quietly accepted his responsibility as my sole parent without complaint. He fed me, clothed me and made sure I did my homework but without ever really embracing the role. I think the only person he ever truly loved was my mother. He cared for me out of love for her rather than for any other reason I could discover.’
I’d always felt aggrieved that my dad was not openly affectionate towards me – always assumed it was a reflection on me; that I was unworthy of such attention, unloveable. But now, as I heard myself describing Dad aloud, I realised I was being unfair.
‘Then again, I didn’t make life easy for him. I was so angry, furious with everyone and everything but mostly with myself. I lashed out, picked fights; I wasn’t a nice person to know. I’m ashamed to say my dad bore the brunt of it, even though he had his own grief to deal with. In desperation he enrolled me in the after-school rugby club to tire me out and give me something to focus on – and I’m so glad he did.’ I smiled at the memory, relieved to be back on safer ground.
‘It was before my growth spurt though; I was still small for my age and I didn’t know the first thing about playing rugby. Luckily Liam stepped in to help me out. He was two years above me at school and his dad ran the classes. It was Liam who taught me how to throw, catch and pass, expose the space and be elusive while running at speed. By twelve I was already faster than him and as I grew in size he helped me develop my strength and endurance. He was like a big brother to me really. Without him I would never have got a scholarship to play rugby at university – I owe him a great deal.’
Kat squeezed my arm with her fingers. ‘Then I do too,’ she said, smiling.
Talking aloud about my parents was difficult and unsettling but I felt better having done so at last. I just hoped that Kat was the right person to open up to. First I’d allowed myself to care about her and now I was trusting her with my feelings – I’d never been this close to anyone before, never felt so optimistic, nor so dangerously exposed.
Chapter Thirty-seven
Jamie had opened up and confided in me – just like that!
Lying on my back I stared at the shadows cast by the tree outside the window as they slowly crept across the ceiling. It was the middle of the night and Jamie was fast asleep beside me – his breathing slow and steady – but I just couldn’t switch my thoughts off. I tried to focus on the time I’d spent working on the nursery the day before. The twenty-four-degree heat had made my cast itch like mad but it was a fresh, summery, scented heat – not like the inescapable, stinking, suffocation of meat frying in an airless kitchen – and I found the simple routine of tidying, feeding, and labelling plants for sale incredibly soothing. I’d even made a new friend – a collarless, scrawny, black cat with white paws and a ripped ear. I’d fed her cheese from my sandwiches. The stray feline was stand-offish at first, wary of strangers and too proud to beg, something I could easily relate to, but with patience I had gained her grudging trust. If the cat turned up again tomorrow I would have to get some proper food for it – Jamie’s Quorn burgers were not going to cut it. Jamie. It was no good – my thoughts always returned to him.
He had spent most of the day preparing for the planting workshop he had planned for the weekend. The free promotional event, in which Lil would show people how to plant up their own pots, was designed to lure more customers into the garden centre but if it was a success Jamie would be able to sell tickets to more workshops like it in future. It was a great idea and Jamie was giving it his all but I could tell he was distracted – the possibility of impending fatherhood never far from his mind. Rugby practice had seemed to help – enabling him to burn off some physical energy and spend time with his friends – but I could still see Jamie’s fears behind his eyes.
Though I didn’t trust Jasmine Reed further than I could throw her I did believe what she’d implied about Jamie finding it difficult to talk about his past. It wasn’t unusual for people with a start in life like ours – being rejected as a child made it harder to trust. And yet, despite that, Jamie had invited me into his home, introduced me to his friends, involved me in his business and in his plans for the future and, now, confided in me about his parents. It was awesome, awe-inspiring, all too much.
Jamie’s faith in me affected me deeply. For one thing I could no longer keep lying to myself. I didn’t just care about Jamie and privately lust after him; I loved him – I had fallen in love with him.
The feeling was new to me; I’d never been in love before and it was some s
trange kind of agony. Right now, being a part of Jamie’s life, being his friend and sharing his home, should be enough; I should just enjoy this brief, happy interlude in an otherwise trying existence, while it lasted. But if I was really, uncompromisingly, honest with myself, now that I’d had a taste, I wanted more; I wanted Jamie for myself.
Of course that was impossible. Even if Jamie didn’t go back to Jasmine Reed and her baby, even if my husband didn’t turn up and kill us both, I would never be worthy of a man like Jamie. If Jamie didn’t already know that he would work it out eventually. There was no question of me spilling my guts and confiding in him the way he had in me. I risked losing him entirely if I did. I had no doubt he’d want nothing more to do with me if he ever knew the ugly truth – the real me. So here I was, greedy and ungrateful, knowing I couldn’t stay and deeply reluctant to leave.
Wincing I released the tender flesh at the top of my arm. I’d barely registered that I was pinching myself, beneath my sling where the bruise would not be seen, but the pain was a welcome distraction. As the sensation began to ebb I deliberately repeated the action in the same place with greater intensity, forcing my anger and frustration into my thumb and fingertip, squeezing them together, and twisting the skin for good measure. As I increased the pressure I bit my lip to prevent myself from crying out and then, when I finally released my grip, I sighed in relief. The pain and heat subsided into a gentle reassuring throb, coaxing me towards sleep at last.
Chapter Thirty-eight
The little girl carefully deposited a wriggly earthworm in my open palm, her tiny hand dwarfed by my own, and looked up at me expectantly.
‘Wow, thanks, you found a worm! Is it for me?’
She shook her head vehemently, her pigtails swinging alarmingly, and then stuck out an arm, pointing a mucky finger in the direction of a nearby bird table.