A Vintage Summer

by Cathy Bramley

  The feet reached the floor and a short woman shuffled her bottom to the edge of her seat. She was wearing a pair of beige shorts which possibly could have been standard army issue in the days of the Raj and a polyester lavender blouse displaying an impressive stripe of what looked like egg yolk all down the front. Her hair was a mass of steel frizz and she had a mole on her chin of Nanny McPhee proportions but her eyes sparkled with mischief and she was wearing the biggest grin. To say they were an unlikely couple was an understatement.

  With a series of grunts, she began to manoeuvre her generous frame out of the seat. I wanted to offer assistance but I’d already had my head bitten off once.

  ‘Don’t get out yet, Marjorie, for heaven’s sake!’ called Betsy in a shrill voice. ‘I don’t want to be scraping you up off the tarmac.’

  Marjorie winked at me and rolled her eyes comically. ‘Then let this young lady help you. The surgery will have closed by the time you’ve fiddled about.’

  ‘Well, there’s gratitude for you,’ said Betsy, nonetheless standing aside to give me access. ‘Anyway, it’s scarcely nine. The place has only just opened.’

  I lifted the collapsed wheelchair out of the boot. It was lighter than I’d expected. I set it down and tried to work out how to unfold it.

  ‘Gratitude!’ Marjorie hooted with laughter. ‘It’s not me who needs looking after.’

  ‘That’s quite enough airing of laundry in public,’ Betsy cut in, putting a firm hand under her friend’s arm.

  I found the catch at the back of the wheelchair and released it.

  ‘Thank you, dear,’ said Marjorie, huffing and puffing as Betsy lowered her gently into the seat.

  ‘I’ll take it from here,’ said Betsy, edging her way to the handles of the wheelchair.

  Marjorie coughed ostentatiously.

  ‘Thank you,’ Betsy added.

  I stood aside with amusement to watch their progress into the surgery.

  ‘Onwards,’ cried Marjorie, lifting her hand above her head. She pressed a button on her car key and the lights flashed, locking the vehicle. ‘Straight ahead to the ramp and through the automatic doors!’

  I followed them in, pausing to read the community noticeboard in the foyer. There was always something going on in Fernfield and this was the place to find it; well, this and the parish magazine. There were adverts for everything from holiday cottages to second-hand vacuum cleaners, babysitting services, coffee mornings, salsa classes and even Japanese lessons. I scanned it on the off-chance that someone was in need of an assistant tree surgeon, or a dog walker, or anything outdoorsy, but nothing stood out.

  I took a photo of the details of a yoga class, thinking that Evie and I could both do with some relaxation, and then took my place in the queue at the reception desk. There was a kerfuffle at the head of the queue. An elderly man had spilled something across the counter which had leaked through to the receptionist’s side. Two of the staff, one of whom I recognized as Nicky, had pushed back the sliding glass screen and were mopping up whatever it was with wads of kitchen roll. The other staff member had a nurse’s uniform on.

  Behind the man was a woman with a small boy clutching her hand, desperate to see what the man had done and in front of me was Marjorie in her wheelchair, wheezing with laughter at the goings-on. Betsy was nowhere to be seen. I tapped Marjorie’s shoulder and she wheeled herself round to look at me.

  ‘What’s happened?’ I whispered, nodding towards the desk.

  ‘Old boy hadn’t screwed the lid on his sample bottle. Went everywhere.’

  ‘Oh dear.’ Nicky was shaking her head solemnly. She was in her mid-twenties and kept her shoulder-length dark blonde hair tucked behind her ears. She was a nice sensible girl and her figure was what my mum would have called ‘bonny’. She winked conspiratorially from beneath a ruler-straight fringe.

  ‘We can’t use that now, Mr Bradbury,’ the nurse tutted. ‘You’ll have to do another sample.’

  ‘No bother, Nurse,’ said the old man, taking a new pot from her. ‘There’s plenty more where that came from. In fact, have you got a bigger bottle?’

  ‘Oh, stop it,’ Marjorie gasped, weak from laughing. ‘At this rate I’m going to need one myself.’

  The man shuffled off towards the toilets and Nicky gave a sigh of relief. ‘Next please! And don’t lean on the counter if you can help it.’

  The woman and child moved forward, leaving quite a gap between them and Marjorie.

  ‘Can you manage, or shall I push you forward?’ I offered.

  ‘No, dear,’ said Marjorie, fishing a rather grubby hanky out of her bag and wiping away the tears of laughter. ‘I’m not the patient. I’ve just brought my friend. She’s in with the doctor now.’

  I must have looked confused because she smiled and beckoned me to bend lower.

  ‘Do you know Jensen Butterworth?’ she whispered.

  ‘No.’ I frowned. ‘Should I? Is he famous?’

  Marjorie smoothed the front of her blouse down and noticed the yellow mark. ‘Oh, look at that; I’ve spilled my egg. That’s the trouble with this wheelchair. Food has such a journey from my plate, it’s a wonder anything’s still left on the fork when it reaches my mouth.’

  ‘You were saying,’ I prompted. ‘About Jensen Butterworth.’

  ‘Betsy’s grandson,’ said Marjorie, jerking her head in the direction which presumably Betsy had gone. ‘If you’re a friend of his, I daren’t talk to you.’

  I was intrigued. ‘But I’m not, so …?’

  Marjorie’s mouth twisted as if she was weighing up whether to confide in me. I smiled encouragingly. These two old ladies fascinated me; they were such characters and I found myself wanting to know more about them.

  ‘Betsy’s eyes aren’t so good. My legs are pretty useless, as you can see. So we pool our resources and between us, we’re a damn good team.’ She smirked proudly.

  ‘So I see. And what has Jensen got to do with it?’

  ‘Lovely lad. Bright too. Some high-flying job in London. Betsy’s so proud of him.’ Marjorie sighed wistfully.

  ‘Next please!’ Nicky called.

  ‘That’s you.’ Marjorie pushed herself out of the way. ‘Go on, love.’

  Nicky beamed at me, folded her arms and leaned forward to put her mouth close to the perforations in the glass screen. ‘Lottie! Nice to see you.’

  I looked at Nicky and back to Marjorie; I was dying to know more about the wonderful Jensen and why Marjorie hadn’t wanted to talk to me if I’d known him.

  ‘Yes, you too,’ I said to Nicky. ‘Excuse me, Marjorie. We’ll carry on our chat in a moment, shall we?’

  But Marjorie wasn’t paying attention; Betsy had reappeared on the arm of a very handsome doctor and Marjorie was batting her eyelashes shamelessly at him. The doctor patted Betsy’s hand and positioned her at the back of Marjorie’s wheelchair.

  ‘Tallyho,’ cried Marjorie, raising her hand in a wave as the two of them set off for the exit.

  ‘Marjorie dear,’ said Betsy in a loud whisper, ‘I don’t mean to be indiscreet, but there is a distinct whiff of urine in reception. Do you need to visit the little girls’ room?’

  Marjorie hooted with laughter. ‘Nothing to worry about; there’s been a wee accident, that’s all.’

  Nicky and I exchanged amused looks.

  ‘Never a dull moment,’ she said, glancing at the large clock on the wall. ‘And it’s not even tea-break time yet.’

  ‘So I see.’ I leaned forward, about to rest my forearms on the desk and remembered just in time.

  Nicky giggled. ‘Believe me, it’s had worse things on it than Mr Bradbury’s green wee.’

  Green? I winced and stood up straight. ‘How was your first night in your new home?’

  Her face went all gooey. ‘Perfect. Just perfect. With that and Adam proposing to me last week, my head’s in the clouds. I’m so in love I can’t tell you.’

  I felt a tiny pang of envy. ‘I’m so pleased for you and I hope y
ou’ll be very happy.’

  ‘We will,’ said Nicky, blinking happy tears away. She picked up her pen. ‘So did you want an appointment?’

  ‘No. Well, possibly, I’m back for a while so I thought I should re-register.’

  Nicky nodded and pushed a card under the gap in the counter.

  ‘Put your new address on here—’ She interrupted herself with a gasp. ‘Oh blimey, I almost forgot! What am I like!’

  She grinned goofily at herself and I looked quizzically at her.

  ‘We had a visitor this morning looking for you. Tall, muscly, black hair. He turned up at the house just as I was leaving for work.’

  My blood turned to ice: Harvey.

  I swallowed. ‘What did you tell him?’

  She shrugged. ‘I said you weren’t here and as far as I knew you were living with your sister.’

  ‘Oh God.’ I pressed a hand to my chest, racking my brains to think whether Harvey had ever been to Evie’s house. He had. I remembered one night last autumn having a Chinese takeaway for Darren’s birthday. I could feel my heart thudding against my ribs as urgently as if I’d just sprinted a hundred metres.

  ‘I’m really sorry. Did I say the wrong thing?’ Nicky bit her lip. ‘You’ve gone a funny colour. Do you want a glass of water?’

  My head was spinning and I felt faint. Even if he had gone round to Evie’s she wasn’t in any danger; Harvey wasn’t violent. What about last week, when he wrapped your ponytail round his hand and tugged it? said a little voice.

  ‘I’ve got to go,’ I murmured and abandoning the GP’s registration card, I stumbled back out of the automatic doors.

  Outside the bright sunlight was such a contrast to the cool of the surgery that I had to stop, shade my eyes and take a few breaths.

  I pulled out my phone and saw a text message from Evie. My hands trembled as I opened it, worried that Harvey was already there.

  Exciting news! Lady from fostering agency is dropping in this afternoon for a chat. Am hoovering like I’m on speed!

  Phew; at least Harvey hadn’t turned up yet. I dialled her number to warn her but it was engaged. There was no time to waste leaving messages; if I ran fast I could be back at her cottage in five minutes.

  So I ran.

  Why was he here? Why couldn’t he accept we were over? Maybe I’d done the wrong thing ending it with a letter, although that was the advice I’d been given and it had felt like the cleanest way to do it. What was I going to say to him? What sort of mood would he be in? I knew the answer to that – he’d be angry, very angry.

  I stopped at the corner of Evie’s street. On the drive was her little VW Polo and behind it, Dad’s van which he’d lent to me while he was away. If Harvey had forgotten which number Evie lived at, the logo for Allbright’s Tree Services on the side of the van would have jogged his memory.

  Completely out of breath and weak-kneed, I limped the last few metres to the house and knocked on the door.

  Evie opened it instantly. Her eyes were wide and her mouth puckered with worry. ‘I’m sorry, he didn’t give me any choice.’

  Behind her a broad shadow moved into view. ‘Hello, stranger.’

  The sight of my ex-boyfriend smiling contritely made my stomach quiver. He held out his arms as if expecting me to fall into them.

  ‘No, I’m sorry,’ I said, squeezing Evie’s hand.

  ‘You can do this,’ she whispered so softly that Harvey wouldn’t hear. ‘Get it over with.’

  I gritted my teeth and nodded, remembering what Dad had said in the pub: I’d done the hardest part in leaving him. Now I had to move on. And that was what I intended to do.

  ‘Harvey,’ I said, tilting my chin up, ‘what are you doing here?’

  I stepped into Evie’s little hall and she put an arm protectively around my waist.

  Harvey gave a laugh of surprise and came closer, hands extended as if he was going to hug me. ‘What do you think I’m doing? I couldn’t get through on the phone and I was worried about you. Dashing off like that. It’s obvious you aren’t thinking clearly at the moment.’

  ‘I’ve never been clearer in my life. Excuse me.’ I sidestepped him. ‘I need a drink of water.’

  I headed to the kitchen and I heard Evie persuading him to go in the lounge.

  She followed me into the kitchen and closed the door behind her.

  ‘He was hammering at the door,’ she murmured, ‘yelling that he knew you were in here. I had to let him in in case the fostering agency interviews the neighbours too. I couldn’t risk them mentioning that I’d had an aggressive man trying to get in.’

  ‘Don’t apologize.’ I hugged her swiftly. ‘I’m sorry for putting you in this position and bringing trouble to your door.’

  I noticed her glance at the clock on the oven. ‘I’ll get rid of him as quickly as I can.’

  She waved a hand. ‘Shit happens. Are you okay? You look clammy and red.’

  I managed a laugh. ‘Never run so fast in my life.’

  ‘Are you going to leave me on my own much longer?’ Harvey shouted from the living room.

  ‘Tosser.’ Evie gritted her teeth and shook her head. ‘And to think I used to like him.’

  ‘And I loved him.’ I downed my water in one and wiped my mouth. ‘Right, I’m going in.’

  ‘Wait.’ She grabbed her mobile phone. ‘Let me ring Darren, he’ll be straight over if we— Oh.’ Her mouth opened and she blinked rapidly at me. ‘For a second there I forgot and—’

  We locked eyes for a moment and I squeezed her hand. Poor Evie, for all her brave talk of going it alone, I hoped she was beginning to realize how much Darren meant to her.

  ‘I’ll be okay on my own,’ I said. ‘You try not to worry.’

  My sister gave me a look that said: Yeah right.

  I took a calming breath and left the room.

  Harvey was pacing up and down the length of Evie’s living room. As soon as I entered, he dropped on to the sofa, perching on the edge, and patted the space next to him.

  I headed for an armchair and sat back as if I was totally at ease with him. Inside I was quaking, but I was determined not to show it.

  ‘Harvey, I appreciate you coming to check on me,’ I said with an attempt at a warm smile, ‘but as you can see, I’m fine.’

  His brow furrowed. ‘But you just left. No warning, no indication that anything was wrong.’

  I felt so tired. Too tired to fight him. ‘Oh come on, Harvey,’ I said heavily. ‘Things have been tense for months.’

  He moved closer to my chair so that our knees were touching and reached for my hand. But I was too quick for him and snatched it away. He sighed irritably.

  ‘Look. Whatever it was I said or did that made you run, I apologize. We can’t let a silly little tiff come between us. We can sort this out, Lottie. Come home.’

  I shook my head defiantly. ‘I am home. I’m not going back to London.’

  Or to you.

  He threw his hands into the air and then slapped his thighs. ‘So you won’t accept my apology?’

  I stared at him. ‘It wasn’t one single thing you said or did. It was everything. My promotion—’

  ‘Oh, I get it.’ He curled his lip meanly. ‘This is about money. I don’t earn enough to keep her Ladyship in frilly knickers.’

  ‘It has nothing to do with money,’ I jumped to my feet, breathing heavily, ‘and everything to do with respect.’

  ‘You talk about respect,’ he spat, springing up to face me. ‘Where was your respect for me when I offered to look after you so you didn’t have to go out to work? Most women would kill for a gentleman like me.’

  The heat in here was beginning to build, I needed fresh air. I crossed to the French doors which led out to the back garden and unlocked them.

  ‘A gentleman doesn’t pull hair like you did last week.’

  ‘Oh, Lottie,’ he groaned, ‘how can you be so stupid? I love the feel of your soft hair and the smell of it. All fresh like flowers. I w
asn’t going to hurt you. I’d never hurt you. Come on.’ He looked wounded. ‘You’re making out I was some sort of animal.’

  I tried to open the French door but the handle was stiff and I was beginning to feel claustrophobic.

  ‘I need air, I need to get out,’ I muttered desperately.

  ‘No you don’t.’

  I felt Harvey’s hand on my shoulder and cried out as he spun me round. He took my face in his hands and his eyes burned fiercely into mine. He smelled of sweat and a wave of nausea rose in my throat.

  ‘You and me, we’re meant to be together. I’m good for you. You need me. You’ll never get anyone who loves you like I do.’

  I tried to shake my head but he was holding me too tightly.

  ‘This isn’t love; you want to own me, control me,’ I stammered, trying to prise his fingers from my cheeks. Every nerve in my body wanted to scream for help, but I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me beg.

  The door from the hall banged open and Evie appeared, my tiny guardian angel.

  ‘Let go of her.’ She had her phone in her hand and held it up to show us that the screen was lit. ‘I’ve called the police. They’re on their way.’

  He released me with a push that sent me crashing into the glass behind me and I almost sobbed with relief.

  ‘Hang up!’ he shouted.

  Evie shook her head defiantly. ‘No way. Anyway, the location will already have been logged.’

  ‘Harvey, don’t!’ I gasped as he lunged to tear the phone from her. Evie put the phone behind her back, holding it firm with both hands.

  ‘Bitches!’ Harvey roared, his face purple with fury. ‘You’re both stupid bitches.’

  ‘Get out,’ Evie yelled back.

  ‘Lottie, that’s it.’ He stabbed a finger in my direction. ‘I’ve given you your last chance.’

  My head was spinning and I grabbed the curtains to steady myself. ‘Just go. Please.’

  ‘Don’t worry. I’m out of here.’ He shoved Evie so hard that she fell sideways and hit her head on the door frame.

  She yelled out with pain and clasped the side of her head. I ran to her as I heard the front door slam.

  ‘Hello. Which service do you require?’ said a tinny voice.