The Summer We Loved

by Wendy Lou Jones

  She tried to put out of her mind, while she was running, the direction in which this was taking her. She counted her steps: one, two, three, four, one, two, three, four. What was she doing? She was doing a good thing. She was helping Pete back on track and dodging heartache in the process. Well, at least that was the idea.

  She collapsed in the front door at ten to three, showered, packed up the baking and walked the three miles to Pete’s front door.

  She knocked, unsure now if he was even in. She should have checked, but how could she? She needed to get his phone number. She knocked again and the door opened.

  A rather surprised-looking Dr Florin stood before her in bare feet, jeans and a t-shirt and Jenny felt her insides quiver. “You needed a vice,” she said.

  Pete looked mischievously at her until she cottoned on to his train of thought.

  “Not that!” She rolled her eyes. “I’ve been baking. Can I come in?”

  Jenny walked into the flat and put the bag down on the kitchen counter. “Chocolate-chip cookies, chocolate brownie and raisin flapjack,” she announced, pulling cartoon paper plates loaded with biscuits out of her backpack. They were wrapped up tightly, in several layers of cling film, but they didn’t seem to have appreciated the journey. “Sorry if they’re a bit broken. They’ve been jiggling up and down on my back for half an hour.”

  At that, Pete looked like he was about to burst a blood vessel.

  “I walked here,” she clarified and he looked suitably impressed.

  She wrestled off the cling film. “Ta-dah.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Blimey.”

  “So, what do you fancy?”

  Again with the cheeky smile.

  “Of the biscuits!”

  Pete walked over and looked. “All of them,” he said.

  “Good. Well. They’re not free.”

  He frowned.

  “You have to earn them. How much work have you done since yesterday?”

  Pete explained to a very surprised Jenny all that he had achieved in the past 24 hours since she’d last seen him. She was impressed. “Well, okay, you can have one, then.”

  “One?”

  “Okay, two.”

  “Grief, you’re a hard task master. I thought I’d done really well. Especially considering I’ve been battling the remains of tonsillitis.”

  He pulled a brave face, but his boyish charm wasn’t fooling her. She knew he was used to it working with women, but she was still a little sore from his attack on her the day before. She smiled and walked off into the kitchen and poured them both a drink of juice.

  “Make yourself at home,” he said, grinning.

  “Thank you. I will.”

  The two sat down with a drink and some biscuits and chatted about the small things: their days, her running, and his debatable ability to last on this one vice.

  “So who taught you to bake like this,” he asked finishing off the last few crumbs in his hand. “Was it your auntie?”

  “No. I don’t think so. Probably Mabel.”

  “Who’s Mabel?”

  “Our cook back home.”

  “You had a cook? How rich were you?”

  “Me? Not very. My parents…?” She shrugged. “They’re quite well off, yeah. Got a house up near Kendal.”

  “And you really don’t have anything to do with them any more?”

  Jenny didn’t want to go there again. How he had so easily got her to open up to him the other day was a miracle. He made her feel as if she could trust him, like an old friend. If only she could trust him with her heart. She tucked her feet up onto the settee next to her and tried to divert the conversation.

  “Your mum sounds pretty cool.” Jenny saw the expression on Pete’s face darken. “An Oxford don?”

  “A lecturer. Yeah, she’s great. I haven’t seen her as often as I should have these last few years.”

  “Is that your way of trying to protect her?”

  Pete looked at her. “Something like that.”

  “Just think how proud she will be when you pass the last exam.”

  “Is that your subtle way of putting the thumb screws on me? No pressure then, huh? I’ve just got to do it for you and my mum, or you’ll both be disappointed? I guess I’d better get back to it.”

  She smiled. “Unless you want to talk about yourself some more?”

  “Right. To work.”

  Jenny grinned at him. “Would you like me to test you on anything?”

  “Not just yet. Give me a couple more days.”

  Jenny decided to leave then and let him get on with his work, reminding him not to eat the whole tray of cookies in one go and she walked home. She felt positive now. He might not be her lover, probably a good thing as it happened, but he seemed to be comfortable as her friend. And that was what she wanted… wasn’t it?

  She reflected on how much she had told him about her childhood. More than she had told anyone else, ever. But give and take might be a way to get him to open up. She felt guilty that she hadn’t told him the complete truth about herself, but it was enough. He didn’t need to know the real reason her life had fallen apart so dramatically back then, but having opened up to her, surely he had earned a little.

  Pete returned to work the following week. He made peace with his consultant after a stern talking to; he was on his final warning now. He took a ward round, getting up to speed with the cases on ITU and then headed over to pain clinic as soon as he was through.

  As he had promised, he was at occupational health at midday and awkwardly checked in. The doctor saw him, Pete giving up enough information to account for his disappearance, yet keeping as much to himself as he could. He was examined and referred for counselling, and an appointment was made for six weeks’ time.

  Free again, he hurried back into the canteen to grab a quick bite before his afternoon list. He spotted Jenny on her way into work as he made his way up to theatre. She was walking with two other nurses. He smiled and said hello, and the nurses she was walking with beamed back, but Jenny’s face was enigmatic. What was with her? He thought she’d be pleased to see him back on form, returning to his responsibilities in the hospital again, but something in those grey eyes wasn’t right. He puzzled on this until he started his list and then again when things were quiet.

  That evening he hit the books. Six weeks to counselling. Like he was ever going to make it to that! He wondered if Jenny was going to come round that evening, so he could ask her what was bothering her. But she didn’t show.

  He ate her delicious flapjacks, but hadn’t the heart to tell her he didn’t like chocolate. And he would study hard, but for whom? If he was honest, it might have been vanity, but it was for her. He didn’t want to let himself down in front of Jenny. He wanted her to be proud of him. So, in fact, it was for him, wasn’t it? He was getting used to the girl. The way she had started coming round, the way she seemed to actually care, was growing on him. She was… intriguing. Was he starting to care about her?

  Pete worked till half-eleven at night and was quite pleased with how much he had covered. Having tried and failed the exam once before, under similar circumstances, he had a good idea of what was involved and he had been through the mill of weeks of revision once already. It was a good job he had. Four weeks to go. It wasn’t a huge amount of time to get himself ready.

  He climbed into bed with his mind still whirling and remembered what it felt like to go to sleep without the company of alcohol or a guilty conscience.

  The next day he was looking for Jenny at work. He didn’t know what shift she was working, but he wanted to see her, to tell her how much work he had done. To show her he was being good. He wanted to see those grey eyes change colour when she laughed, to see the twinkle in her eyes when she was being cheeky and to feel her presence in his life, making him strong.

  And as if some spirit had heard him, that evening, after he returned home, she was waiting for him on his doorstep.

  “You didn’t walk all the way
over here again, did you?” he asked, seeing her in tight sportswear and looking flushed.

  “No, I ran.”

  “You ran?”

  “I wanted to check on you, but I wanted to go for a run too. So I ran here.” Pete invited her in and she rested her rucksack on the ground. “I brought along a book in case you weren’t quite ready.”

  “Ready for what?”

  “To be tested.”

  He laughed. “Give me a chance; I’ve only just got in. Why don’t I run you a shower and while you get freshened up, I can grab us something to eat and then you can grill me to your heart’s content.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  Pete turned on the shower and found a clean towel in his cupboard. She confessed to having packed a spare top and deodorant in her bag in case she was unapproachable, but this would keep her occupied and off his back while he worked out what he wanted to do.

  He searched through his kitchen for something to make, but ended up ringing for a pizza. He changed into casual clothes, some dark-grey jogger bottoms and a t-shirt and then hunted around for something to drink. There was nothing. Not one measly beer. She really had gone all out on reforming him. Well, then, it was her own fault if she had to drink milk.

  He could hear the shower running and tried not to picture a beautiful woman in his bathroom. A beautiful naked woman. A beautiful wet, naked woman soaping herself down… He took a deep breath. He was going to need that shower at this rate. Time to study.

  Pete ticked off the slots on his timetable. So far he had managed to cover almost half the pregnancy-related topics. He wasn’t confident on diseases and emergencies in obstetrics. Maybe Jenny could test him on those?

  Jenny emerged from the bathroom and Pete almost lost the power of speech. Fresh, clean, athletic, Jenny Wren was in his flat, damp-haired and bright-eyed, wanting to be with him. Of course, she didn’t want to be with him, she just wanted to help him, and that was different. For her. He took a deep breath.

  “I’m struggling a bit with obstetrics,” he managed, and then hearing his voice, he cleared his throat and tried again. “Is that going to be all right for you?”

  “Of course. Anything you like. Where shall we begin?”

  The two of them sat down on the settee and he handed over his revision notes and textbooks and they settled down to work. Ten minutes later the pizza arrived. Pete answered the door and brought it back in. “Haven’t had a chance to get any shopping yet,” he said in his defence. But he opened it up and the smell wafting across at them was so good and Jenny tucked in. “Meat feast with extra cheese.”

  Jenny moaned with pleasure at her first bite and Pete was transfixed. He tried to eat, distracted by how turned on he was feeling.

  She licked her lips and then her fingers. “You’re forgiven,” she said. God help him, but he didn’t want to be. He wanted to do all kinds of depraved things with her. Finger food had been such a bad idea. He tried to remember that the girl had a boyfriend and concentrated on the pizza packaging: corrugated card with three colours of printing, and somehow he got through.

  After she had wolfed down two big slices, Jenny’s pace slowed a little, allowing for conversation. “So, how did it go, back at work yesterday?” she asked, picking out another slice from the enormous gooey pizza.

  “As well as can be expected,” he told her, watching the cheese strands playing tug of war with her lips. “Had to take an earful about responsibility from Dr Lambert, but he’s not that bad. It could have been a lot worse. It probably should have been.” He wanted to kiss those lips. He wanted to lick every bit of her and finish at her mouth.

  “What about occy health?”

  Pete paused mid-chew and looked at her. Occy health? That was going to help his will power. “They’ve booked me in for counselling in six weeks’ time.”

  “Six weeks? Is that the earliest they could do?”

  “Apparently.”

  “Not that it matters. If they think I’m going to go along and spill my guts to a complete stranger, they can think again.”

  “But won’t you have to?”

  “My rotation finishes in about six weeks – fingers crossed – I only have to stall them for a couple of days and I’ll be away.” Jenny seemed unimpressed. “Would you go and tell some head-tilting, psycho-babbler about your private stuff?”

  Jenny frowned. “They’re qualified counsellors.”

  “But they don’t know me.”

  “You need to talk to someone, Pete. It’s important.”

  “I’m talking to you, aren’t I? Unless you’d rather I didn’t?” It was true, he was. How had that happened?

  “No. Of course. It’s fine if you’d rather, although I can’t claim to be anything like as good as a professional.”

  “But I can speak to you. And… I like you. I might go as far as to say I even trust you.”

  Jenny’s eyes met his and he felt something quiet pass between them. “Do you trust me enough to tell me something about your dad yet?”

  Hell. What had he started? It was time to bail out. He didn’t mean he wanted to actually talk. Not actually talk. He just meant theoretically. “Perhaps. One day.”

  She was still looking at him.

  “Why my dad?”

  “Because you never speak about him. Because I know a little about your mum and I’ve met your lovely brother. And although you hide it well, I know there is something troubling you in your past. Something you had to learn to hide from as a child.”

  “Or we can talk about emergencies in labour?”

  “We can talk about whatever you want, but sometime you’ll have to let it all out and get over it, in order to move on.”

  “Get over it? Like a dose of the flu?” She had no idea. He shook his head in disgust and suddenly his temper was rising. “You think saying a few words can get you over years of watching your mother being beaten? Years of listening to her crying? You think that just because I tell someone that my dad was a filthy drunk, who picked on my mother because she was more successful than him, that I’m going to suddenly feel much better about things? Words won’t block out memories, Jen. They won’t take away the pain of the first time he hit me. He was a bully and a thug and I’m glad he’s gone. I hate him. I loathe him, with every ounce of breath left in me.”

  She was quiet, then. Pete took a deep breath and forced it down inside. “Are you happy now? Because I certainly don’t feel any better. Do you?”

  Jenny reached out with her hand and he flinched away from her touch. She slid closer and he glared at her. What was wrong with this girl? Did she have a death wish? Or was she just determined to be miserable? Why didn’t she just leave him to tear himself apart on his own? Most other girls did.

  Slowly, Jenny slid her arms around him and he melted into her, exhausted and shaking. His face buried in her warm neck as she eased the tension away from him with her stoical soft acceptance. What had this woman done to him that he came so easily undone?

  They stayed that way for a long time, just holding on in the moment, releasing the bitter bile that flowed through his veins. And then Pete pulled away and he looked at her and all pretence was lost. He could speak to this woman and she never seemed to judge him, not on the important stuff anyway. She accepted him, all the bad that swirled around within him; she was washing it away. She sat back, then, saying nothing and without even realising it he was suddenly unburdening himself to her, all his past and all of his woes.

  “My first memories of it are from when I was seven. Mum had just got a new job and it paid far better than his. That was the first time I remember the shouting. Jimmy must have been about three at the time. I remember us cowering in the playhouse in my bedroom, quiet as mice, afraid of what was going on downstairs. I wasn’t aware of any violence then, but a month or two later I noticed a purple bruise on my mother’s wrist when I knocked into it. I remember being upset because I thought I had done that to her, but she told me it had happened the day before.”r />
  “He started drinking not long after that. He would come in later and the rows became more frequent. About a year or so after it started, my mum was ill and he told me I had to sort Jimmy out myself and get us both to school. So I did as I was told; I was only a child. But when I got home that afternoon, I went in to see her and… she was…”

  Jenny reached over and took hold of his hand. “Was she badly injured?”

  “She was purple, Jen.” He shook his head as unshed tears threatened to spill over at the memory. “Her face was swollen and had been bleeding and she had bruises on her arms and neck, everywhere I could see.”

  Tears glistened in Jenny’s eyes. “Oh, Pete,” she whispered and her pity made him try harder to be strong.

  “I knew who had done it, although she tried to make out it wasn’t as bad as it was. And when he got home I launched at him, kicking and screaming. That was the first time he laid a hand on me. He picked me up by the arm, twisted it and shoved me hard against the wall. “Never forget who’s in charge in this house,” he told me and as he let go of my arm, he slapped me hard across the ear and I fell to the floor.

  “Jimmy was so tiny. He didn’t speak for a month after that. He started wetting the bed and I had to sort him out in case Dad got to hear of it and did the same thing to him.

  “It was shortly after that Mum took me aside and told me to find a safe place to go. She told me to find a place away from everyone, where we could build a little den, and if she ever thought it safer, she would give me the signal and I would take us off and hide there until it was safe to come back.” His face started to crumple. “I knew what he was doing to her. I wanted to stay and protect her, but I was scared. I was so scared of him, Jen. And someone had to protect Jimmy. I would never have let him hurt Jimmy.”

  “And you kept him safe,” she told him.