‘It’s not that simple, Abbie,’ he stated, his voice laced with frustration. ‘To start with, I need an office.’
‘Then we can get Dad’s station kitted out for you. It’s large, I could have all of his kit and tools put in a new shed and you could get it done up with all your hi-tech gadgetry.’
‘Abbie,’ he sighed. ‘Even if that worked, I …’ He stalled and threw himself back on the sofa with a shake of his head.
‘I can’t carry on like this, Miller,’ I said reluctantly. ‘It kills me each time you leave and it’s making me miserable. Daphne and Georgie have noticed, and even I’m starting to hate myself for being such a whinger and mope. Being happy when you’re here is being overridden by being miserable the large proportion of the time that you’re not. What else is holding you back? Is it me, do you not feel strongly enough about me to want to try us living together?’
‘Abbie, I love you, I just …’ He broke off and stared at me, confusion written all over his face, which matched my own feelings right now. I just didn’t understand his objections.
‘So you love me enough to suggest that I uproot my life, but not enough for you to do the same?’ I snapped as I scrambled to my feet, feeling hurt and angry with him.
‘Don’t be like that,’ he protested, as I went to stand by the fire with my back to him. I wrapped my arms around myself as I stared at the orange flames. It felt like they were burning me from the inside out. The thought that this might be it, that we were finally acknowledging that this relationship could never continue with an ocean between us, that we were realising we could never work unless something changed, was painful. Then I thought of Daphne, about how much more painful it must be to lose someone you’d loved with all of your heart for sixty years. I swallowed the ball of emotion that filled my throat and reached up to wipe some tears from my cheeks. I just couldn’t imagine it. I didn’t want to imagine it, let alone experience it. Maybe that was why I’d never let a relationship get this far before, I was scared of losing someone I cared about all over again. I was better off on my own than facing the heartache of losing Miller further down the line.
‘Don’t be like what?’ I whispered. I didn’t want to lose him, but if he wasn’t prepared to fight for me, why should I fight for him?
‘You’re my first girlfriend, Abbie. I’m still getting used to being in a relationship, which is a huge deal for a guy with a history like mine. Why can’t we carry on as we are?’
‘Because I’m unhappy, Miller. I don’t want to be this person anymore, the girl whose mood is dictated by her boyfriend’s visits, who spends the rest of her life in a slump when he’s overseas. And I think I’m more invested in this than you.’
‘How can you say that?’ he demanded angrily behind me. His raised voice woke Sumo up, who let out a series of whines and grunts.
‘Because you want me to give up everything to try things your way, despite me having valid reasons for not being able to right now, but you’re not ready to do the same for me. You can’t even come up with a reason to explain why you can’t try a few months over here, can you? It’s not like I’m proposing or demanding we have a baby. I’m just suggesting you try living here for a while, and you’re saying no. So it’s me. You’re not sure about me.’
‘I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life, Abbie, other than my job,’ he said softly as he pressed up behind me, clutching my shoulders as he kissed the side of my temple. I closed my eyes and sighed as I breathed him in. ‘I told you that I felt a connection to you the first time I saw you. I’ve given you more of me than anyone I’ve ever met.’
‘But it’s still not enough, is it?’ I whispered, the reality of acknowledging that we were in completely different places in our relationship hitting me full force, like a sledgehammer to my heart, sending it scattering. I forced back my tears, not wanting him to see how devastated I was feeling.
‘Even if you won’t try New York, what we have is enough for me,’ he replied as he wrapped his arms tightly around my waist, his hands smothering mine.
‘Then we have our answer, don’t we?’ I replied. I pulled my hands from under his and prised myself out of his arms. I quickly walked towards the lounge door, feeling an ache in my chest.
‘Where are you going?’ he demanded.
‘To make up the spare room for you,’ I answered as I gripped the doorframe, not looking back at him. ‘I think it’s best you organise your plane to take you home tomorrow.’
‘You’re breaking up with me?’ he gasped, an unusually cold tone to his voice.
‘We’re in different places, Miller. Physically and metaphorically.’
I held my breath, waiting for him to argue, for him to prove that he was more invested in us than I gave him credit for, but I was met with silence. I headed up the stairs with heavy feet, and an even heavier heart, and shut myself in the guest room. Before I had a chance to think about making the bed, I found myself climbing onto it and curling into a tight ball, clutching one of the pillows to me as my bottom lip quivered and I stared at the wall, willing myself not to cry.
The front door slamming made me bolt upright, feeling dizzy and disorientated, surrounded by darkness. It took me a while to remember I’d come to the guest room to make up the bed and had then laid down. I fumbled about and found the lamp switch on the bedside table, realising that I must have fallen asleep. I rubbed my eyes and stood on shaky legs, then staggered to the window. I was just in time to see Miller load his case into the boot of his car. My jaw dropped. Was he seriously leaving without even saying goodbye? I banged on the window, my heart suddenly beating so fast I thought it might explode, but he didn’t look up. God damn it, this damn treble glazing was too efficient. I grabbed the window handle and tried to open it, but it was locked and the key wasn’t in the keyhole. I found myself flying to the door, then throwing myself down the stairs as I raced to the front door. I threw it open and ran out into the snow barefoot, charging up the path as I saw the red tail lights of his car pulling away.
‘Miller!’ I screamed. I cursed as I yanked the gate open, misjudging it in my haste and smacking myself in the knee and ribs. By the time I’d made it out onto the lane, he was turning the corner. I started running up the lane, chasing him as I yelled, but I slipped over and fell face first into the cold snow. Just like I had the first night Miller and I had kissed. I hammered the snow with my fists as I started sobbing. Big, fat, ugly tears that I’d bottled up ever since David had died at Christmas.
I cried for my mum. The woman I’d never known.
I cried for my dad. The best man I’d ever known.
I cried for David. And for Daphne.
Then I cried for me. For Sumo, and for Miller.
I was sick and tired of losing people in my life, and I wasn’t sure how much more I could take.
I didn’t stop crying until my clothes soaked up the snow underneath me and my body went numb. I suddenly felt empty. I rolled onto my back, staring up at the overcast night sky and dulled moon, wiping away the snot and tears from my face with a damp sleeve.
‘Get up, Abbie Carter,’ I ordered myself. ‘You’ve had your pity party. You always knew it was too good to be true, that a man like Miller would fall for a girl like you.’
I pushed myself up and trudged back to the house, shivering, my feet and hands like blocks of ice. I was surprised to see Sumo framed by the light of the hall, sitting by the open front door and panting as he looked out, wondering what was going on.
‘It’s ok, Chubbers, I’m still here,’ I told him, giving him a quick head rub. ‘Though I’m sure you’d much rather it was Miller, wouldn’t you, boy?’
He looked up at me with his sad brown eyes, reaffirming my thoughts as I shut and locked the door behind me. I couldn’t face climbing the stairs, I couldn’t even be bothered to go and get these wet clothes off. I plonked myself in front of the fire, as close as I could get without getting in it, and gritted my teeth as my hands and feet started to pric
kle painfully back to life. I felt something nudging my arm and looked down to see Sumo trying to push his head under it, so I lifted it up with a frown.
‘What are you doing?’ I asked. He never came near me voluntarily. But almost as if he knew I needed some comfort, he snorted and snuffled his way to scramble up onto my lap, then plopped down on it with a huff and started licking my hand.
It made me start crying all over again. He’d never done that before.
Chapter Ten
Planting New Seeds
February
IT WAS ONE MONTH post-Miller. One month of radio silence. He hadn’t even rung to see if I was ok. Then again, I hadn’t rung him either. I was stubborn like that. I wasn’t sure I could forgive him for leaving without even a note, let alone a goodbye. And it still stung that he’d obviously never felt about me the way I had about him. But I’d pulled on my big girl pants and was making the best of things, refusing to mope. Which was extra tough, being a single loser on Valentine’s Day.
‘Stop grumbling, I’m doing all the heavy lifting,’ I warned Sumo as he grizzled loudly in his pull-along. I giggled to myself. He was looking super cute in a seasonal white knitted jumper with red hearts all over it, even if his face said he didn’t feel quite as enthused about it as I did. Daphne had made him enough for a different one each day of the week, and much as he hated me dressing him in them, he needed the extra warmth. He’d started losing weight and I worried about him in the cold. I tied his lead to the drainpipe of the village shop. ‘Don’t go anywhere. Not that you can remember what your legs were even invented for, unless it involves food,’ I reminded him. He cocked his head, his ears lifting slightly at the word. I rolled my eyes, scratched him behind the ears, and headed into the shop.
‘Morning, Abbie,’ called Sheila Vickers, the shop owner.
‘Morning, Sheila. How are you?’
‘Can’t complain,’ she replied, then proceeded to do just that. I smiled politely as I wandered around the cramped little store while she chuntered on in the background, and filled my basket with goodies for a special spinsters’ Valentine’s meal tonight, which I was hosting for Daphne, Georgie, and Charlie. We’d commiserate with good food, good wine, and good company. ‘So, the cream wasn’t doing anything for his haemorrhoids, and there’s some things not even a wife wants to know about, let alone push back in, if you know what I mean,’ Sheila rambled.
‘Or a neighbour,’ I grimaced, quickly setting down the bunch of red grapes I’d just picked up with a shudder. Now every time I saw a bunch of grapes, I was going to think of her husband’s haemorrhoids.
‘Well, everyone said Bonjela would really help, but it hasn’t.’
‘Bonjela?’ I uttered, giving her a horrified look. ‘That’s for mouth ulcers, not … bottom problems.’
‘Is it? Well, he does have mouth ulcers, too. Oh dear, I wonder if I’ve switched the creams by mistake. You don’t use Anusol on your ulcers then?’
‘Ermmm, I’d say not. Maybe the “Anus” part of the name should have given you a clue that you were using it on the wrong orifice,’ I chuckled. ‘I think you’d better get him to see a doctor as soon as possible. I’m pretty sure putting Anusol in your mouth, or Bonjela on your bottom, can’t be good for you.’
‘Well, sometimes people have excellent tips, don’t they? No point rushing to the doctor or hospital each time you have a problem. You know Mr. Benson up Ivy Lane?’
‘Hmmm,’ I confirmed as I grabbed some garlic. He was a sweet old chap. Ex-military, very chivalrous, distinguished and well spoken.
‘Suffering from terrible erectile dysfunction he was, until Barbara Henderson suggested he try some Miracle Grow.’
‘On his penis?’ I uttered, looking at her in astonishment over my shoulder.
‘Oh no, silly me,’ she chuckled. ‘That was for Mr. Bentley’s petunias.’
‘Thank God,’ I replied as I put some potatoes in my basket. Miracle Grow really would live up to its name if it made todgers stand to attention after one dose.
‘What are you cooking?’ she asked.
‘Steak with potato au gratin. I’ve got the meat, garlic, and potatoes, what else did I need?’ I pondered as my eyes roamed the shop.
‘Viagra?’
‘Ermmm, no, I don’t think that’s in the recipe,’ I giggled, marvelling at the total randomness that spewed out of Sheila’s mouth.
‘No, for Mr. Bentley. Viagra, is it? For a floppy penis?’
‘Oh, right, yes, but Mr. Bentley had floppy petunias. Mr. Benson had a floppy … you know.’
‘You heard that too?’ she gasped, then let out a series of tuts as she shook her head. ‘Well, nothing in this village stays secret for long, does it?’
‘Well no, it doesn’t,’ I agreed. ‘But you just told me that.’
‘No, I didn’t.’
‘Yes, you did. You said Mr. Benson from Ivy Lane was suffering from erectile dysfunction.’
‘Did I? Oh dear, it was supposed to be a secret.’
‘Trust me, I won’t be discussing it with anyone,’ I said firmly. ‘Cream!’ I announced proudly, remembering my missing ingredient.
‘No, little pills. Mabel Benson said they worked so well, he had to go to the hospital as they couldn’t get it to go down.’
‘I meant cream for my potato dish.’
‘What potato dish?’ she asked as she pushed her glasses back up her nose. I sighed inwardly. I swear the conversations in here got more bizarre each time I came in.
‘What do you mean you’re not coming?’ I uttered after I rang Georgie to remind her to bring her homemade sloe gin to pour on the forest fruits meringue I’d made for pudding.
‘I sort of agreed to a date,’ she said apologetically.
‘How do you sort of agree to a date?’
‘Because I really don’t want to go out with him, but couldn’t think of another excuse to get out of it,’ she groaned.
‘Ah, Wayne Davies, the farmer’s son,’ I giggled. He’d been chasing Georgie ever since she’d kicked her fiancé out, but he so wasn’t Georgie’s type.
‘I figured best to just go, then let him down gently at the end of the night.’
‘You’ve been trying to let him down gently for months. I don’t think subtlety is a language he understands, Georgie. Just tell him straight, thanks but no thanks.’
‘Too late,’ she replied with a heavy sigh. ‘He’s picking me up to take me to dinner at The Fox.’
‘In his combine harvester?’ I teased. ‘Well, make sure he washes his hands well before dinner. He spends his days with his hands up cow, sheep, and pig bottoms.’
‘He does? Whatever for?’ she gasped in horror.
‘I’ve no idea, but that’s what farmer types do in pigging season, isn’t it? Help the babies come out?’
‘Pigging season,’ she giggled. ‘You live in the country, Abbie, you should really get with the correct terminology.’
‘Ok, Miss “Know it all”. What’s pigging season called then?’ I challenged, and waited as there was silence on the other end of the phone. ‘Ha, you have no idea either, do you?’
‘Ok, maybe not,’ she admitted sheepishly.
‘Maybe it’s oinking season, as if you had to shoot that many piglets out, you’d be oinking non-stop.’
‘Well, I call it bacon and sausage season.’
‘Oh yes, marry him, Georgie. There’s an upside to everything. Free bacon for life!’
‘Steady on,’ she warned. ‘One step at a time. Are you going to be ok?’
‘I’ll be fine, I’ve got Daphne and Charlie. I know who my real friends are. Go get ready for your hot date and ring me in the morning. I want to hear all about his sausage.’
‘Shut up, Abbie,’ she laughed. ‘Have fun.’
‘You too,’ I sang, and grinned as she put the phone down. I was so glad she was getting out there again, even if it was Wayne. I shuddered as I thought of his short, stubby fingers. They looked like little chipolata s
ausages that had been sewn onto his huge spade-like hands. Urgh! Damn it, I still had no sloe gin. I dialled Daphne and let it ring for a while, knowing she was a bit slow getting to the phone. ‘Hello,’ I trilled chirpily as she answered. I was fed up of everyone worrying about me, so was making a real effort to assure them all I was ok.
‘Abbie, dear, is that you?’
‘It is. Just wondering if you have any of Georgie’s sloe gin? I’ve run out and I want some for our pudding tonight. Could you bring it with you when Charlie calls for you on her way over later?’
‘Oh no! I forgot all about dinner, Abbie. I’m so sorry, but Mr. Bentley asked me if I wanted to go to a tea dance in Shrewsbury for the over sixties.’
‘Ah, you watch yourself with Mr. Bentley, he has floppy petunias.’
‘I know, Sheila from the shop told me. Said he took Viagra for them, which I thought was for erectile dysfunction, but she swore it straightened them right out.’
‘Ermmm, no. As usual, Sheila got confused. Mr. Bentley used Miracle Grow,’ I giggled. ‘Someone else took Viagra for something else that was floppy.’
‘Ah, Mr. Wentnor. Been having terrible problems with his waterworks, I heard.’
‘No, I don’t think Viagra would help that. He had a urine infection, I picked up some antibiotics for him at the doctors last week and some cranberry juice from the shop. He was ever so grateful.’
‘So who’s had Viagra? No!’ she gasped after a momentary pause. ‘Not Mr. Benson?’
‘I never said a word.’
‘You didn’t need to. It must be, it’s been years since I’ve seen Mabel looking as happy as she has the last few weeks at our bridge games.’
‘Can we possibly get back to the whole “you on a date” news?’ I asked, really not needing to hear that the OAPs in the village were more sexually active than I was.
Never the Bride (Dilbury Village #1) Page 16