Chapter 15
Monday morning, Pete was feeling good. He had spent the weekend cranking up his efforts with Rich, his trainer, in preparation for the fight he was booked in for the following week. His exams were over, good or bad, and Jenny would be back from holiday.
He hadn’t seen her yet, hadn’t heard a thing since before she left, which had been a disappointment for him, if he let himself think about it, which he was trying hard not to.
Neil had helped out with his sparring and worked with him for their fitness. He was ready and focused and eager to win; all he needed now was to be happy and he was hopeful that if he could find a way to make Jenny happy, then that would be enough.
In his mind he had analysed every word the locum had said during the weekend and the more he thought about him, the more he was convinced he was right. The guy was cheerful enough to make her happy, intelligent enough to understand her and he was sure to be a trusted provider. To all outward appearances, he seemed ideal; a far cry from a man haunted by a past that threatened to topple any good intentions he might ever feel.
He needed a way to get them together. Surgical nurse and medical doctor? It had to be something sociable. Maybe he could manufacture something. If he passed, if he passed, he could throw a party to celebrate and he could make sure they both came. But that might be too late. He was finishing in a matter of days now; what if one of them couldn’t come?
His next patient was wheeled into the anaesthetic room and Pete refocused on the job. He smiled. “Mrs Simpson, how are you? Come on in. I’ve got a vial of gin and tonic lined up right here with your name on it.”
Jenny walked back into work on Monday lunchtime, a more reserved and subdued woman than the one who had flown out the week before. This was real life. Gone was the carefree woman of the holiday in France. There were worries clambering at the door to get out. Her new reality scared her. Her career, her future, whether she could even face Pete, all was so uncertain and she couldn’t talk to anyone. The girls would never understand. Flis would go ballistic. Her mum and dad had suffered enough with her drama for one lifetime and Auntie May, well… Jenny was going to have to work out in her own mind what on earth she was going to do before she talked it over with her. So, for now, she was determined to carry on as if nothing whatsoever had changed.
Several colleagues asked her if she was all right on her first day back, which surprised her; she thought she had been doing a good job of pretending. A few of them said she was looking very healthy and asked her where she’d been, and it reminded her to enquire if the little girl was still around on the wards.
That night her protective cloak began to show cracks. The others were sitting around the TV when Jenny got in. All three of them. They looked up.
“Good to be back?” Flis asked her.
Jenny smiled and let out a short laugh. “Absolutely.” She hung up her jacket. “I’ll just get out of this and then you can tell me all about what’s been going on since I’ve been away,” and she went to her room and got into her fluffy socks, her old jogger bottoms and a jumper and then walked back down to the living room.
The girls budged up and made room for her on the settee. “What are we watching?” she asked them and was immediately hushed as the final scene of a film was revealed.
Lots of sighs and chatter later, the TV was turned off and they asked about her time away. Time to be a bit brave, she thought. “It was a writing break,” she told them.
“A writing break?” Flis was shocked. “What on earth made you go on one of those?”
“I loved it,” she told them all. “I learned a lot and it was such a beautiful place. So peaceful and the people were so friendly.”
“And you actually did some writing?” Chloe asked her.
Jenny nodded. “I wrote a story for a little girl who’s having chemo on the children’s ward.”
“Can we read it?” Heather asked.
“Ooh, yeah, please,” Chloe echoed.
Jenny looked from one to the other. Eager faces pleaded with her to submit. She had read it aloud to Briony on holiday, so maybe she could do this. It might be good to get some feedback before she handed it over, so she agreed. “Okay.”
Jenny trotted back to her room to fish the story out of her drawer and then returned, a little anxious, to the living room, where three different faces met her. Heather seemed curious, Chloe delighted and Flis couldn’t have looked more sceptical if she’d tried. Jenny took a seat.
“I haven’t had a chance to type it up yet and my writing isn’t very legible, but… here goes. It’s called, ‘Penelope, Champion of the Ward.’”
Jenny read her story and tried not to look at their faces as she did so. She put as much expression into it as she could manage and told them the tale of a magical pink unicorn, who came to life at night and protected all the poorly children of her realm, especially Lauren, her best friend, from the nasty germs who tried to attack them. She had found out the girl’s name when she’d ventured to the children’s ward to ask earlier that day.
When she’d finished, all three of them looked stunned. They broke into a round of applause and Jenny blushed and felt happy that she must have actually done a good job.
In the ensuing conversation, it turned out that Heather was a dab hand at drawing and Jenny asked her to have a go at doing a cover for her. “So you think it’s okay?” she asked when the fuss had died down.
Chloe sighed and looked at her. “You’ll make a wonderful mummy one day,” she said.
Jenny felt the blood drain from her face and all of a sudden she wanted to burst into tears. She excused herself and hurried off to her bedroom, on the pretext of putting her work away. What had she done? She was having a baby. She was going to be somebody’s mummy and she was all alone. She didn’t want to be alone. She wanted Pete by her side. Her courage was failing. She wanted him to step up and be the man she knew he was capable of being, to protect her and care for them both, her and the baby. Was it a foolish hope? Probably. Pete had never wanted more than he could handle, and unbidden tears began to flow.
There was a knock on her door and a face peeped round. Flis.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
Jenny immediately wiped her hands across her face and sniffed. “Fine. Fine. Just a bit of jet lag, probably.”
Flis sat down next to her. “Because you will be a mum one day, if that was what was bothering you? I’m sure you will.”
A sorry laugh escaped her at the irony of it all. She shook her head. “Ignore me. I’m just tired. I’ve probably been a little too much in touch with my emotional side this past week, that’s all.” She took a deep breath and let it out. This was neither the time, nor the person, for disclosure. She smiled.
Flis gave her a speculative look and then got up. “It’s a good story, Jen. You should think about doing more. You could write an adult one, if you like. I’d read it.”
Jenny smiled, grateful for the support and relieved to have shifted the spotlight away from being a mum. “I might just do that,” she told her. “But I think I’ll get some sleep now. You on an early?”
“Yeah.”
“See you in the morning, then, and… thanks.”
I’m home, she wrote in her diary that night, and it’s only you I can talk to now. I thought once I was back I would start to make sense of what was going to happen to me, but it’s too big, too massive to get my head round. I’m desperate to see Pete. I want to look into his eyes and feel if he’s missed me half as much as I’ve missed him. But I’m so afraid. What if he’s all but forgotten about me now? What if he’s moved on and had half a dozen women in the time since I’ve been away?
But, then again, would the loss of him be harder than having him obligated to a child he never asked for, never wanted? Wouldn’t that be worse? Oh God, I don’t know. Perhaps when I see him I’ll know what to do. What I mustn’t forget to do is book in at the surgery. I know they said Clara’s problem was a one off, but… they m
ight be wrong. They might have just been saying that. Oh God, I don’t think I can do this.
And yet… here I am, doing it. Again. Knocked up by a man who can let me go as easily as leaves on a breeze.
Beany, I’m going to call you that, because you’ll probably look something like that at the moment. Beany. It’s just you and me now, kiddo. It’s just you and me.
Wednesday evening, on her break in the canteen, Jenny heard about a party at a function room in town. She was beginning to feel a little queasy, but it was Emma, one of the nice lady doctors, who had just got engaged to an engineer, and she was having a do to celebrate. Invitations were fluttering around and Jenny was half tempted to go. She wasn’t going to be able to drink, but it might at least cheer her up and take her mind off things. And then she saw him.
Pete walked into the canteen, obviously on call and he looked amazing. His eyes were brighter. He looked healthy. She hadn’t heard any more scandal about him, not since Tina. She sighed. She wanted him… still. She thought about him every morning when she opened her eyes and every night before she closed them. For a short time he had been her world, and she his, perhaps. It was just a moment, really, but it had been enough to let her see how good it could be between them, sowing the seed of hope that had echoed within her ever since.
He looked over and saw her and their eyes met. Nothing was said. A brief smile touched the corners of his lips and then his attention was diverted by the woman at the till and, with one backward glance, he was gone.
She’d had time now to reflect on her change in circumstance. She didn’t blame him. She had fallen for Pete, though she had known from the first that he couldn’t commit.
Maybe if she hadn’t felt the need to confess her past so openly, only minutes after they had shared such an intimate connection, maybe then they would have stood a chance.
This ache was going to take a long time to burn out and there was nothing she could do about it. She had been a fool, the biggest fool of all. She had been drawn to the man before she had ever really known him, sensing something deeper lurking within, but had never known quite how deep that person lay.
He was incarcerated behind walls, a million miles below the surface, with just the smallest gap to see the sun. She had reached him for a while. Their fingers had touched. His heart had begun to beat again, she was sure it had, but she’d been unable to get a firm grip to help him up, and then the ground had been pulled from beneath her and he had disappeared again.
Only Mr Rochester was waiting for her up in her bedroom when she got home. She had no reserve left for small talk; she needed to be alone. She needed to think, so she pulled out her diary.
It’s his results tomorrow. I wonder how he’s feeling. He seems happy around the hospital, but you never know what’s going on inside with him. He has layers of defences built up over years. I wonder how deep I even got.
I miss our closeness. I miss the friendly banter and ease with which we spoke, the intimacy of our hearts. I miss him.
“Plenty more fish in the sea”, people would tell me if they knew what I was feeling. “He’s never been a keeper, anyway.” I know this. But knowing that has never stopped a girl from dreaming. Lorna was never meant to be for John Ridd, but they got their happy-ever-after. It was a bit of a bumpy ride, of course, but they got there, in the end.
The next day, the ward was busy. An influx of cases over night had seen them full to capacity. Nurses off sick added weight to their load, but Jenny was relieved, as it left little time to wallow.
With the drug round done, she went back to check on the woman who had come in from an assault. She was out of danger now, since coming back from theatre, but she needed regular obs, having been stabbed repeatedly and left for dead in a back street. Jenny shuddered at the thought. Was pregnancy making her more vulnerable to her emotions? She gave herself a stern talking to and moved on with her day.
She was unsure about going for a run that afternoon, but she decided it would probably be all right, as long as she didn’t push herself too hard. As she got ready, she was thoughtful about how Pete was doing and desperately wanted to go round to his flat to find out if he had passed, but she wasn’t sure of her welcome. He might wonder what on earth she was doing there, so she sucked it up and went for the run instead.
Her feet pounding the earth felt good. It focused her thoughts on the next step. Sisters, babies and loves were banished from her mind as she pummelled the unforgiving pavements, trampled the fading earth and concentrated on the path in front of her. Autumn colours were moving in, painting the leaves with their palette and time was suspended for a while in the rhythm of her life.
An hour later she arrived home, breathless and spent. She showered and changed into something comfortable and then, lying on her bed, she pulled her phone out of her pocket. She looked at it and toyed with the idea of calling him. Surely he wouldn’t mind that? She tapped her nails against the warm, purple plastic casing and then, scolding herself, put it back in her pocket and got up to make some tea.
Pete had seen the pass rate and he was uneasy. It was just over 50 per cent. He had worked harder this time than before. He had had reason. He didn’t know what he was going to do if he didn’t get it; his rotation was almost at an end and he wasn’t sure he could face trying again, not if Jenny wasn’t beside him. He needed this to prove he could make something of himself, that he wasn’t just a mess-up holding on by a thread.
He logged onto the website that morning and there was nothing. By lunchtime they should have been posted. Something was causing a delay. He was obviously going to have to wait for them. His pain clinic that morning had been interesting and had kept his mind busy for the most part, but now he was eager to know… but not to fail.
With a cautious heart, he walked out into the car park at the end of the day, took out his mobile and checked again. He waited. He couldn’t breathe, and then… up popped the list. He scanned down and… he had done it. Elation swept through him as the end of such a long, hard journey was finally in sight. He had got it and he was almost free to make consultant. He punched the air around him and whooped, grinning like an idiot at patients and relatives passing by. But then he became thoughtful. Jenny had kept her side of the bargain. Now it was time for him to keep his.
Pete had been asked to an engagement party by one of the doctors. He knew Jenny knew her too, surely that meant she’d be going, if her schedule allowed, of course. It was the night Rich had lined up the fight, so Pete knew he couldn’t go, but Phil, the locum he had in mind for her, could get there, if she was going to be there. He needed to find out.
With a reputation like his, asking after a particular woman was tantamount to a declaration of intent. And not the intent he was thinking of. He had to be more subtle. Sneaky, even.
On his next few visits to Aintree Ward, Pete tried to be observant and spot where the nurses kept their rota and then he waited for a moment when he was alone and scanned for the 19th of September. His heart was hammering inside his chest as his eyes darted across the paper. He had to find out before somebody came and interrupted him. And just as a nurse was coming into view, he saw it. Jenny was on an early. She was free. He turned away and walked off to find his patient. Now he just had to find out if she was going.
He needed to talk to Emma and make sure Phil had an invite for Wednesday and, if he was lucky, work out if Jen did too. It was almost the weekend. If he didn’t find out soon, he would have only a couple of days the following week to discover if she was going. Maybe it was time to be blunt.
He was in luck. Emma had been distracted and offered up the information willingly. Deed done, he returned home that evening, content that his plan was starting to take shape. There was an event, they had invitations and, best of all, he wouldn’t have to be there to watch them. So, with his job done, Pete headed off for his training; he needed to be ready to give his all if he was going to win the fight the following week.
*
Jenny’s he
ad was hurting, so she leant back against her chair and breathed. She looked up at the clock on the wall beside her. It was a little after six in the morning. Her husband’s footsteps were making their way along the landing towards her and she had no excuse for being there, other than she wanted to be.
She didn’t think he understood just how important this was to her, to get it all down in writing. She wanted to purge her soul of demons and confess her sins to the world. She understood that he was only tolerating this for her sake, but he wasn’t going to be happy with her pushing herself, not when he was trying so hard to protect her.
She reached for the cat, busy purring around her feet, and lifted it onto her lap. “You’ll save me, won’t you, Twinkle?” The cat padded around in circles, but then seemed to think better of it and hopped down, trotting out of the door. “I guess not.”
The door opened wider and disapproving eyes looked in.
“I couldn’t sleep,” she got in, before he had a chance to scold her.
His eyebrows rose. “Is it hurting?”
“Not too bad.”
He walked over and crouched down before her, looking at her hands held tightly in his. “I just worry about you. I’m afraid you will make yourself worse if you push yourself too hard. You need your rest.”
“I’ll be getting plenty of rest soon enough,” she told him. “I want to finish this. I need to.” She looked at him and waited for his tender gaze to hold her. “Please.”
“Promise me you’ll stop if it gets too bad, though. Promise me, Jen.”
“I promise,” she told him and he rose up, kissed the top of her head and left her to it. Within a few minutes, she could hear the sound of the kettle boiling downstairs and birdsong starting up in the trees.
*
Saturday morning the post dropped through the door and plopped onto the mat. Jenny looked up from where she was sitting, trying to get into a new book. She got up off the settee and picked up the mail and, rifling through, she noticed a handwritten letter for her. She didn’t recognise the writing, so she flipped it over and then turned it back and looked at the postmark beside the stamp. It was blurry. Walking back to her seat on the settee, she opened it. She unfurled the letter. At the bottom she read the name, “Lizzy”.
The Summer We Loved Page 19