by Jodi Taylor
I went down into her bathroom, and rearranged all her soaps and shampoos. I folded towels and hung her Shaun the Sheep bath scrunchie up to dry. I opened the windows to air the room and then closed them again. I heard Russell go by. He stuck his head around the bedroom door and said, ‘Jenny?’ but never thought to look in the bathroom. I stood still and he went away again.
The world fell silent. I guessed Mrs Crisp was in her room, Russell was in his studio, the chickens were doing chicken things, Boxer and Marilyn were continuing with their day, Joy was asleep, and that just left me. The odd one out. Again.
Chapter Seven
No one said anything the next morning. There wasn’t even a pause in the conversation as I walked in with Joy.
Russell was on his phone. I heard him say, ‘No. I’m not going upset Jenny over this. I’ll talk to her about it in my own time. When the moment is right. You’ll just have to be patient. That’s all I’m saying at the moment so there’s no point in going on at me.’ He snapped his phone shut.
Mrs Crisp and Kevin were discussing our current egg-laying situation. Two cardboard egg trays lay on the worktop, conspicuously empty. Russell was ignoring them.
He smiled when he saw us and reached out for Joy.
‘Hello, wife and daughter.’
‘Cereal and toast,’ announced Mrs Crisp. ‘Because we have no eggs,’ she added meaningfully.
‘Early days yet,’ said Russell, dismissively. ‘And after our recent visit from Mrs Balalaika, we were lucky the milk didn’t sour as well.’
I busied myself pouring a mug of coffee and waited, because the natural thing to do now was for everyone to discuss yesterday’s little adventure and how they could possibly have escaped from their field. I watched my hands tremble as I stirred my coffee.
There was a short silence and then Kevin said he should be cracking on, and Russell plonked Joy in her high chair and began to shovel down her breakfast.
His phone rang. He looked at the screen, looked at me, handed me Joy’s spoon and shot hastily out of the door, but not before I heard him say, ‘Franny, I told you...’ before he closed it behind him.
Mrs Crisp put some toast in front of me and everyone else got on with their day.
Except me. I just couldn’t settle. I wandered out into the yard and if I checked that stupid gate once, I checked it a dozen times.
Kevin passed me, whistling and wheeling his barrow. He glanced at me several times, but I wouldn’t catch his eye, and I know Mrs Crisp was watching me from the back door. I wondered if they were making sure I didn’t do anything stupid. Again.
I hung over the gate, watching Boxer and Marilyn grazing peacefully, with no idea at all of the repercussions of their little adventure yesterday, and I thought about just how fragile was the framework on which I’d hung my life.
I’d been living in a golden bubble. I led such a sheltered life that my deficiencies – for want of a better word – had passed unnoticed. Especially by me. But now I came to think of it, the brutal truth was that I’d been fooling myself. Teachers, relatives, everyone who knew me – those people couldn’t all have been wrong. It just wasn’t possible. And then along came Russell who decided that whatever was wrong with me he could live with it for the sake of the money, then discovered there wasn’t any. But by then it was too late to get rid of me. To give him his due, he’d accepted it with good grace, but – and how could I ever have thought otherwise – there was something the matter with me – there always had been – and now the cracks were beginning to show.
I couldn’t bear the thought that I’d let him down. That I’d nearly brought catastrophe down upon us, and all because, for a few fatal seconds, I hadn’t been thinking about what I was doing. Before I married, I used to watch myself all the time. I always had to concentrate. To make sure I got things right. That I said the right thing. Always keeping myself in the background where I couldn’t do any harm. And now, after only a couple of years in the sunshine with Russell Checkland, I’d forgotten all that, and just look at the damage I’d almost done.
It’s hard to describe how I felt. The nearest I could get was saying it was like standing in shallow water on a beach and feeling the sands shift beneath my feet. To know that all the things I had thought were solid and immoveable now were not. That my new life wasn’t built on solid foundations after all. And worst of all, the old fears had come crowding back, thick and black and encircling me. Cutting me off from the outside world as they had always done. Once again, all the barriers I had thought were my protection would turn out to be my prison.
My thoughts were frightening me.
I went back to check the gate again.
*
Russell came back for lunch. Unable to face him, I took Joy up to her room, spending so long with her that he’d gone again when I came back downstairs.
It was only when Mrs Crisp asked whether I wanted any lunch that I realised I hadn’t spoken all day. I took a breath but nothing happened. I focused on the pattern on the tablecloth, pale blue and cream checks – blue square, cream square, blue square – but it was useless. Like me. So I smiled and shook my head, and took myself back upstairs again to watch Joy sleep, and to think about what I had done. Or rather, what I hadn’t done. And what had happened. I spent a lot of time thinking about what could have happened. I’d just reached the point where the pair of them had somehow reached Rushford and been hit by traffic, causing multiple pile-ups and widespread devastation when Mrs Crisp tapped on the door and called that she’d left some soup outside.
I waited until I heard her footsteps die away before opening the door. There was a pretty tray with a bowl of steaming soup, two bread rolls and an orange.
I did my best, because if I didn’t eat then questions would be asked, but I really didn’t want it so, feeling even more guilty, I threw the soup down the toilet and one of the rolls into the garden for the birds. I thought leaving the second roll on the plate lent a touch of realism, realised I was deceiving the people who loved me, and felt my self-esteem plummet even further.
*
It got worse. Well, I got worse. Fortunately – and I can’t believe I said that – Joy developed a bit of a snuffle, which provided the perfect excuse for me to avoid everyone else and stay in her room. She slept most of the time which meant I had nothing much to do except wipe her occasionally crusty nose so, of course, I used the time to brood over the events of that day. Over and over again, I let the gate swing behind me. I could feel the cool metal under my hands, hear the faint squeak of the hinges, remember what I was thinking of at the time, feel the hot sun on my head, and not in any way hear the click as the latch engaged.
I wondered which of them had been the first to investigate this excitingly open gate. I was certain it would have been Marilyn, whose second home was our yard. And where Marilyn led, Boxer would surely follow. And then she would notice the gate into the lane – usually open so that Russell could roar, unimpeded into the yard, and make an entrance. There was never any danger of him hitting anyone – in his Land Rover you could hear him coming from miles away. Particularly if he was in third gear when the engine tended to sound like a cavalry regiment clattering over a cobbled street. And these days, he always hooted when turning into the yard – to give the ladies a fighting chance to get out of the way, he said.
Out of habit, Boxer would turn left, up the lane towards the moors, because that was the way he was familiar with. And once out of the yard, off they would go. In my mind, I saw their rear ends disappearing around the bend and silence falling on Frogmorton. Until Russell returned and saw what I had done.
A sudden gust of rain on the window brought me back. Night had fallen. I hadn’t realised so much time had passed. Where had the afternoon gone? And it was raining. A small part of my brain reminded me I should check the buckets up in the attic. I remembered it had been raining when I first came to Frogmorton. Had my life come full circle? Buying buckets had been the first thing Russell and I had ever d
one together. I sat very still, filled with superstitious dread. Was this it? Was the cycle complete? Did this mean everything was ended? Was this really all I would ever have? A few years in the sun and then, somehow, I would lose it all. Everything would be snatched away from me. And I would have to go back to the way things were before I met Russell.
Hoping it would make me feel better and because I was cold, I showered, changed into my pyjamas and dressing gown, and went back to check on Joy.
I drew the curtains in her room, switched on her little nightlight, and sat beside her cot and felt the hot tears running down my face. Because the next stage was that they would take her away from me. Because I couldn’t be trusted with even the simplest task. Because I was exactly as stupid as everyone had always said I was. Except Russell who, yes all right, had married me for my money, discovered I didn’t have any, but stood by me anyway ...
‘But only because he couldn’t have Francesca,’ said the nasty little voice inside my head.
Words, never my friends, circled like vultures. ‘He couldn’t have her so he decided he might as well take you and your money, only it turned out there wasn’t any, was there, but he kept you anyway, and this is how you repaid him, and you really are as odd as everyone always thought. There’s something the matter with you, and now he’s stuck with you, and you nearly killed his horse, and he spends a lot of time talking to Francesca these days, and how long before they decide you’re not fit to have care of your baby, and ...
‘Jenny, stop it. Stop it now. This minute. Open your eyes. Look at me. No, look at me.’
The words seared a path straight through this sticky maelstrom of anguish. There was no question of my not complying. My eyes opened of their own accord and at exactly the same moment I registered the comfortably familiar smell of warm ginger biscuits. I caught my breath in a sob, soaring in one brief second from despair to utter joy. Soaring so fast it made my head spin.
Thomas was here. Thomas had come back. Now, exactly when I needed him, Thomas had come back.
I stood up so quickly that I knocked over the dressing-table stool.
There he stood, over in the corner of the room, just as he always did, his beautiful golden coat glowing slightly in the night light.
‘Thomas. Is that you? Is that really you?’
‘Really Jenny, how many horses do you regularly find in your bedroom?’
I ran across the room and he lowered his head to me in that gesture I knew so well. His huge dark eyes shone with love for me. For me – stupid little Jenny Dove.
‘Jenny, my very dear friend, how are you?’
His familiar gentle voice was too much for me. I felt fresh tears fall. ‘Oh Thomas, I’ve made such a mess of things.’
‘Really? That doesn’t seem very likely. Perhaps you’ve just got yourself in a bit of a tangle, that’s all.’
I shook my head. It was far worse than that. Part of me ached to tell him – to share the burden a little. The other part hesitated. Thomas never judged – never criticised, but if I told him how stupid I’d been...
‘Why are you here?’
‘Just passing through.’
‘Can you stay?’
He shifted his weight a little. ‘I expect so.’
I snuffled and groped for a tissue in my pocket. Not finding one, I wiped my nose on my sleeve.
‘I see I’ve come back not a moment too soon.’
I mumbled, ‘I can’t find a tissue.’
I could hear the smile in his voice. ‘Jenny, this is a baby’s bedroom. Every box of tissues in the entire western world is in here.’
‘I know,’ I said, finding a box by her cot and blowing my nose. Hard.
‘My goodness, what a very thorough girl you are.’
Russell had said that to me long ago, when he asked me to marry him and I had burst into tears on that occasion as well. It occurred to me, as I snorted into my tissues, that I wasn’t a naturally joyful person.
‘Don’t I get a hug?’
I hung back. ‘Thomas, I’ve done something terrible.’
‘No, you haven’t.’
‘Yes, I have.’
‘No, you haven’t.’
‘Yes, I...’
‘Can we move on – we’re beginning to sound like a Christmas pantomime.’
I took a deep breath and forced out the words. ‘I left the gate open and Boxer and Marilyn got out.’
‘Did you get them back?’
‘Oh yes, they hadn’t gone too far. But they got into Mrs Balasana’s garden, which was a complete disaster, because she’s not very nice and complains a lot, and Marilyn ate her Michaelmas daisies.’
‘What did Boxer eat?’
‘Nothing. He just stared at her coal bunker. I think he was a little bit overwhelmed. Why are you laughing?’
‘I’m not. Just clearing my throat.’
I stared at him suspiciously. ‘You’re a horse. You don’t clear your throat.’
‘Of course I do. I’m a horse. Have you seen the size of my throat? Takes a lot of clearing, I can tell you.’
‘Can we get back to me leaving the gate open?’
‘Certainly, since you seem so eager to dwell on it.’
Silence fell.
‘Well, go on then.’
I felt rather stupid and said in a tiny voice, ‘I left the gate open.’
I thought he stared at me for rather a long time.
‘Well, say something.’
‘Is this Joy? My goodness, hasn’t she grown? What a pretty little girl.’
‘Thomas!’
‘You told me to say something so I did.’
‘About the gate.’
‘What about the gate?’
‘I left it open.’
‘No, you didn’t.’
‘Yes, I did.’
‘No, you didn’t.’
‘Seriously? Are we starting this again?’
He sighed. ‘I can see I won’t get any sense out of you until you get all this out of your system. Go on then, tell me what happened, why everything is your fault, and how unworthy you are.’
‘I’m not unworthy.’
‘Yes, you are.’
‘Thomas!’
‘Sorry – couldn’t resist. Tell me about the gate.’
I did. I told him everything. I started with possibly seeing Christopher outside Sharon’s shop, all the way through to Mrs Balasana’s visit, which he greatly enjoyed, asking me to repeat the bit about the Patagonian Attack Chickens several times.
‘Good old Russell. He never fails to amaze and entertain, does he? Sorry, go on.’
I moved on to finding them in Mrs Balasana’s garden, getting them out, and then meeting her in the lane. He listened carefully, and I had to repeat that, too.
At the end, he said nothing for a very long time.
I said, ‘Well?’
He sighed. ‘Jenny, you’re an idiot.’
I hadn’t expected that. I never thought that Thomas, of all people, would say ... I stepped back, hurt beyond words. ‘Thomas, why did you say that?’
‘So that when Russell tells you the same thing you won’t burst into tears.’
I hung my head. ‘I ... see.’
‘No, you don’t.’
I said angrily, ‘This isn’t a joke.’
‘No, and it isn’t a tragedy either, Jenny.’
‘You said I was an idiot.’
‘Listen to what you told me, Jenny. Actually listen to what you said.’
‘About what?’
‘About the gate.’
‘I told you. I left it open.’
‘Not that gate. The other one. Mrs Balasana’s gate. Close your eyes and picture it. You’ve just seen them. You have to get them out of the garden before Mrs Balasana comes back. What do you do?’
I closed my eyes. ‘I unlatched the gate.’
‘That’s not quite what you said before.’
‘Oh. Sorry. I struggled with the latch on the gate. It’s stif
f and new and I couldn’t get it open. I had to wiggle it a bit.’
‘Yes?’
‘Yes what?’
‘Jenny, you’ve just told me. You struggled to open the gate. Which was closed. And latched. And the latch was stiff. Now picture Boxer and Marilyn. Which one of those two geniuses do you think unlatched the gate, marched into the garden, and closed and fastened it again after them?’
I stared at him. ‘Well, neither of them, obviously. Oh.’
‘Exactly.’
‘But that doesn’t mean I didn’t leave our gate open.’
‘Jenny, either I can hear a talking earthquake coming down the landing or Russell Checkland is on his way. I suspect the latter, although you never know at Frogmorton. You will tell him what you told me. You will listen very carefully to what he says and yes, he will tell you you’re an idiot, my funny little Jenny, because that’s exactly what you have been.’
He faded away, leaving me alone in the middle of the room and before I had chance even to draw breath, Russell bounced in.
‘What are you doing in here in the dark?’
‘Joy’s got a bit of a ... snuffle. I was just...’
‘No, you weren’t.’ He seized my wrist and pulled me out of Joy’s room, into ours and dropped me onto the bed.
‘Now. What’s the matter? Out with it.’
‘There’s nothing...’
‘Yes, there is. Ever since yesterday you’ve been walking around looking as if you’ve been hit by a combine harvester. What’s happened?’
I remembered Thomas saying, ‘You will tell him everything you told me.’
I took a very deep, very wobbly breath. ‘Russell, there’s ... something I ... must tell you.’
Restless as usual, he began to wander around our room, picking things up and putting them back in the wrong place. I hastened to rescue my precious bottle of perfume. After Joy was born, Russell bought me a bottle of Joy, the perfume. I thought it was a lovely gift, until he told me he could have bought Frogmorton twice over with what it cost. Now, I only wore it on special occasions because it was obviously going to have to last me the rest of my life.