‘Let go of my arm, you prat,’ said Saffron.
‘So what exactly were you up to on Wednesday evenings?’ said Pete. ‘You tell me that.’
Saffron went white. Bloody hell, he’d put two and two together and made ten.
‘Not what you think I was doing,’ said Saffron slowly.
‘So you have been lying to me,’ said Pete. ‘Maddy was right.’
‘What the bloody hell has Maddy got to do with it?’ ‘She told me you were cheating on me and she was right.’
‘I have never and would never cheat on you in my whole life,’ said Saffron. ‘I can explain about Wednesdays later, but right now I need to get to the allotments to find Ben to make sure he doesn’t make a fool out of himself by proposing to Amy, as I think she’s about to ditch him.’
‘Too late,’ said Bill, ‘I saw Amy go out on the allotments five minutes ago.’
‘Oh bugger,’ said Saffron, and walked away. There was nothing more she could do. Amy and Ben had to work this out for themselves.
Amy shivered a little. It was a grey November day and the evenings were beginning to turn colder now. The trouble was, she wasn’t sure what she wanted. Finally admitting to Saffron something she had known for months now, but not dared to say – that she did love Ben – had come as something of a surprise. She realised she had been kidding herself, hiding behind this notion that she could only fall in love once.
Lightning did apparently strike twice – and how. And that was the trouble. She had fallen in love again, and she of all people knew that love wasn’t enough. It always ended, and someone always got hurt. She couldn’t risk it, not again. Losing Jamie had been the worst thing she had ever had to cope with. Losing Harry had made her remember the full agony of it. She couldn’t bear it if something were to happen to Ben too. The best way – the only way – to protect herself was to get out now before she went in any deeper.
She had to explain to Ben that she couldn’t see him any more. The sooner she said it, the better. Since Harry had been ill, they had slipped into an easy intimacy, which could so quickly become something more. She didn’t want to lead Ben on – it would be fairer to nip things in the bud now. Once it was done, it was done, and they could both get on with their lives again. A life without Ben? a little voice treacherously whispered in her head. Is that what you really want?
Isn’t that just cowardly? The little voice was most insidious, and most annoyingly right. She knew it was right. She was running away rather than allowing herself to become vulnerable again. But she couldn’t face opening herself up to any more hurt. Not again.
‘Were you looking for Ben?’ One of the Guys was coming up the garden path in search of a refill.
‘Yes, have you seen him?’
‘I saw him wandering over to the allotments about twenty minutes ago,’ he said. ‘You might find him over there.’
‘Thanks,’ said Amy and, grabbing a cardigan to wrap over her thin shirt, she marched down the garden path. She wasn’t looking forward to what she had to do. But it was now or never. If she was going to leave Ben, the sooner she did it, the better.
Saffron went inside fuming. She was cross with Pete, sick at heart with worry about her marriage, furious with Gerry for the mess he had created, missing Harry in a way she had never thought possible, and somewhere deep down inside she had a gnawing anxiety that she should have interfered and told Ben to hold off on his proposal.
She went into the lounge, automatically picking up cups and plates, and wondering grouchily whether anyone was going to offer to help her do the washing-up, when Edie and Ada said, ‘Come on, dear, let us help you. You’ve been working so hard all day.’
Saffron groaned inwardly. She’d scarcely seen them since their embarrassing encounter at her first pole-dancing class. They were the last people she would have asked to help her, but she was beginning to feel like a rather resentful skivvy, so instead she said gratefully, ‘Thanks very much.’
‘It’s a sad day, isn’t it, dear?’ Edie asked.
‘It is,’ said Saffron, thinking mechanically that she must have been saying the same thing all day long.
‘In the midst of life we are in death,’ intoned Edie solemnly.
‘Too true, Edie, too true,’ said Ada. ‘Which is why we should make the most of things while we’re here, eh, Saffron?’ She winked at Saffron, who blushed.
‘You still going to them classes?’ Edie wanted to know.
‘Er, not any more,’ said Saffron.
‘Shame,’ said Edie. ‘Young girl like you, needs to be keeping her man happy, if you know what I mean?’
‘Ooh, Edie, you are a one,’ Ada shrieked raucously. ‘I say, isn’t she a one?’
‘Yes, isn’t she?’ said Saffron with heavy sarcasm.
‘Mind you,’ Ada switched back to solemn mode, ‘Harry’s better off where he is. He wasn’t coping very well on his own. The house was in a shocking state. I don’t know what Mavis would have said.’
‘Ah, but he’s with Mavis now,’ added Edie comfortably, as she washed a cup up, ‘and that’s all for the best really, isn’t it? He wasn’t the same man at all after she went, was he?’
‘You’re not wrong there, Edie,’ said Ada, shaking her head sadly, while plunging her hands enthusiastically into the soapy water. ‘But he had a good send-off, didn’t he?’
‘That he did, Ada, and you can’t say fairer than that.’
Sensing her presence was no longer required, and that they could keep up the headshaking pronouncements for rather a long time, Saffron checked on the children before chucking a coat on and heading for the allotments. The gnawing feeling of anxiety had resurfaced with a vengeance. It had been a lousy day and she was beginning to have a very bad feeling about the way it was going to end. People were drifting in from the allotments and making noises about going home. Saffron took the opportunity to slip silently away – let Pete deal with their guests, he’d done very little to help all day.
Dark clouds loured over the allotments. A wind was getting up and the clouds were scudding across the sky. Saffron shivered, there was an ominous feeling in the air. She ran as fast as she could through the allotments. It was probably too late but she couldn’t help herself. She had a feeling she knew where Amy and Ben might be, but, getting up towards Harry’s hut, she could see Ben and Amy facing each other in the pouring rain. She was too far away to hear what they were saying, but the body language didn’t look good. It looked as though she’d got there too late.
‘Amy, I was just going to come and find you.’ Ben was taken by surprise. He had been sitting out here so long he hadn’t realised how late it was. It had suddenly got much darker and it looked like rain. He shivered. When did it get so cold?
‘Ben – we need to talk.’ Amy didn’t seem relaxed to him. She looked tense and unhappy. He so badly wanted to make her happy, to take that tension away. He had never wanted anything so much in the world. From the very day he had first seen her, he had wanted to make her smile again, and stop her being so sad. If only she would let him.
‘Yes, we do,’ said Ben. ‘I can’t wait any longer. You must know how I feel about you.’
‘Ben – don’t, please don’t.’ Amy looked aghast. This was not going to plan at all.
‘Amy, you must know I love you. And I think you love me. Please,’ he grabbed her hand, ‘hear me out. I can’t live without you any longer. Harry’s death has made me realise – life’s too short. I’m not good at all this stuff, but Amy, I want to do this properly.’ Ben stood up and, still holding her hand, got down on one knee. The rain was coming down now and if she hadn’t been so horrified, Amy might have laughed, he looked so ridiculous kneeling there in the mud. But she couldn’t laugh, not now. He was about to propose and she was going to break his heart. This wasn’t the way it was supposed to be.
‘Amy, will you marry me?’ He held out a little box. He didn’t have to tell her what was inside.
Amy stood rigid. Whatever she had
been expecting she hadn’t anticipated this.
‘Aren’t you going to look at it?’
Amy opened the box, and took out the ring. It was beautiful. A single diamond in a ring made of twisted white gold. It was the most beautiful ring she had ever seen.
A cold wind was whipping up across the allotments. She stood in silence for a long time. Rain had started heavily, and was now coming down in sheets. Amy was soaking wet and her hair was blowing in the wind. She looked ethereal, otherworldly, like a creature who didn’t belong to him. Ben knew in a sickening flash what her answer was going to be.
‘Ben, I’m so sorry.’ The words came out in a whispered sob. ‘I can’t do this. I just can’t marry you.’
‘But why?’ Ben knew it was useless asking, but he had to know.
‘Because I’ve had my heart broken before and I can’t bear for it to happen again. Everyone I’ve ever loved ends up leaving me. My dad left. Jamie died. Harry died. I’m sorry, Ben, I just can’t do it.’
‘So that’s it?’ A sudden anger had overtaken Ben. If she was to be his, she was worth fighting for. ‘That’s your answer? Amy, life is about getting hurt. Everyone gets hurt sometimes. You can’t hide yourself away from love forever, and bury yourself in the sand pretending it doesn’t exist. I know you feel the same way. How can you let something this good go?’
‘I just can’t.’ The look on her face tore at his heart. ‘You don’t know what it’s like to lose someone. After Jamie died, my whole world collapsed. I never ever want to feel like that again.’
‘You’re not the only one who’s lost someone, Amy,’ said Ben, the anger resurfacing. ‘You don’t have the monopoly on grief.’
‘I never said I did,’ Amy was stung to respond. ‘But you’ve never lost someone you love. You can’t know what it’s like.’
‘Haven’t I?’ Ben spat out. ‘How do you know I haven’t?’
‘You never said – I just assumed –’
‘Well don’t!’ said Ben. ‘Don’t assume things you have no idea about.’
‘Who – what happened?’
Ben put his head in his hands and looked up at her, and Amy saw, in his eyes, a mirror of her own pain.
‘I had a sister, once,’ said Ben, very slowly. ‘Her name was Sarah and she was three years younger than me. When she was born I thought she was the loveliest thing I had ever seen. We used to muck about together – you know, how kids do. And sometimes she was my annoying little sister. But I loved her. And I looked out for her, and she looked up to me. And then –’ His voice cracked, and Amy heard the raw, naked pain. She had never seen Ben like this.
‘How did she die?’
‘She drowned. She was five years old, and I was eight. And she drowned. And I couldn’t save her.’
‘Oh Ben.’ Amy came and knelt in the mud with him, and held him close to her, as the rain beat down upon them. She could feel his heart thumping next to hers. ‘You were only a child, it wasn’t your fault.’
‘But you don’t understand,’ Ben whispered. ‘I was meant to look after her. I was her big brother. I was supposed to protect her.’
‘What happened?’
‘We’d gone for a family picnic in the park, and she wanted to come fishing for newts with me. But I wanted to play with my friends so I told her to go away. But she followed me anyway. And then –’ He took a deep breath.
‘Then –?’ Amy prompted gently.
‘Then, I felt bad about leaving her behind, so I went to look for her. But she wasn’t where I left her. So I went back to the pond, and there she was – floating in it. I jumped in and tried to get her out, but I couldn’t reach her, and I got tangled in the pond weed. And then my dad was there, shouting at me, and pulling Sarah out and doing mouth-to-mouth. While I sat there watching her die, knowing it was all my fault. And my parents never knew.’
‘Do they know now?’
‘I can’t tell them that,’ said Ben. ‘How do you think they’d feel knowing I killed their daughter?’
‘Ben, it was an accident, surely they’d see that.’
‘Maybe,’ said Ben, ‘but I’ve never found the courage.’
There was a silence, the only sound the pounding of the rain on Harry’s shed roof. Then Ben stood up, still holding on to Amy.
‘So you see, I know all about pain and suffering and loss. And I still carry on. The reason I’m a doctor is because of Sarah. It’s my fault she died, and I couldn’t save her, but I can try to save others. And though I live with the pain every day of my life, I still would choose to live my life to the full, and risk being hurt again. You have to choose life, Amy. To do anything else is to condemn yourself to the dark and a life that’s only half-lived. You have to choose to live, Amy. Please.’
Amy stood torn between what he had said: her heart caught by the pleading in his voice, and her fear of allowing herself to love again. Slowly she pulled herself away from him.
‘I’m sorry, Ben, I want to, but I just can’t.’ Her voice was a strangled whisper. She thrust the ring back in his hand. He snatched it from her, and threw it into the middle of Harry’s allotment.
‘Don’t,’ said Amy.
‘Why not?’ snarled Ben, his face suffused with the anger and hurt she had put there. Not knowing what else to do, Amy stumbled away, tears pouring down her face. The rain was coming down now in fast and sharp needles, and the wind was whipping across the allotments.
The wind howled even louder, and the rain came down harder. Letting out a great howl of rage, Ben punched his fist into the side of Harry’s shed. Harry was gone. And now, so was Amy. And he doubted he was ever going to get her back. He’d lost her, and this time it was for good.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Saffron rolled over in bed, and woke up with a start. Pete still wasn’t there. That meant he hadn’t come home last night. By the time she had come in from the allotments the previous day, everyone had been leaving, and shortly after he had gone to the pub. She had assumed he would be back later, but then Amy had come in from the allotments, soaking wet and in a terrible state.
‘What happened?’ Saffron had been shocked at the state of her friend, who was pale and sodden.
‘I’ve made such a mess of things,’ Amy had told her, and collapsed sobbing into Saffron’s arms.
‘Don’t you think you both need to calm down a bit?’ said Saffron, once Amy had filled her in on Ben’s proposal. ‘I told Ben today wasn’t a good day to propose –’ Amy shot her a startled glance, and Saffron shrugged her shoulders ‘– the poor lamb was excited, he had to tell someone. I did try to warn him off, but by the time I got out there it was too late.’
‘It wouldn’t have made any difference,’ said Amy. ‘I would still have said no.’
‘Don’t you think you’ll change your mind in a few months? Things might not seem so bad then?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Amy, wearily. ‘I can’t see it at the moment. I don’t think it’s fair to string Ben along, do you?’
‘No, I don’t suppose so,’ Saffron replied. She’d sighed, and thought about Pete and how she would feel if she lost him. Then she’d shivered. Suddenly it seemed much more likely that’s what would happen.
‘Where’s Pete, by the way?’ Amy asked, as if reading Saffron’s mind.
‘Pub,’ Saffron replied, and then to her horror she burst into tears.
‘Oh God,’ said Amy, ‘just look at us. We’re a right pair, aren’t we?’
‘Sorry,’ sniffed Saffron, ‘it’s been a long day, and it feels like I’m losing Pete, and I just don’t know what to do.’
Ben had got back to his darkened house immediately from the debacle at the allotment. He couldn’t face going to Saffron’s for the rest of the wake. In fact, he wasn’t sure he could even face living round here any more. Not without Amy. Not without Harry to put him right about life, the universe and everything. Perhaps it was time to move on.
Meg came up, wagging her tail and licking him all over enthusi
astically.
‘Down, girl,’ he said, giving her a hug. At least he still had a dog who loved him. He went into the kitchen and got some dog food out to feed her. He stared across the darkening allotments, where the storm was still raging in full swing. Amy was out there somewhere, and she was lost to him. There was no way he could continue living so close and not being with her. It was too much to bear. On Monday he would start making enquiries about working at other surgeries.
He turned on the radio – a Coldplay concert was in progress. Great, just miserable enough for his mood. He poured himself a can of beer, intending to sit there and wallow in his misery. And then a song came on with lyrics that were so painfully, unbearably close to the way he felt that he could stand it no longer. He had wanted to fix her, he had wanted to make things better, but he had left her standing in the rain, tears streaming down her face, unable to help.
This was no sodding good at all. He switched off the radio, patted Meg on the head, and headed for the Magpie. Drowning his sorrows looked like the only option he had.
It was gone nine p.m. and the pub was heaving by the time he got there. Ben realised to his surprise it was gone nine o’clock. Where had the last few hours gone? He was in such a blur of misery he had lost half an evening.
He jostled his way to the bar and eventually got served by a pretty young barmaid. A pretty young barmaid who wasn’t Amy. It was no good pretending he could get over her and look at other women, because he didn’t want other women. He just wanted Amy. He sipped his beer, scanning the pub for anyone he knew, and then spotted Pete in the corner with a group of the allotmenteers. Pete seemed well plastered. Ben frowned. Pete had presumably carried on drinking because of the funeral, but it was unusual for him to be out this late on a Friday.
‘Hi,’ said Ben, wandering over to them. After a general chat about Harry and how much he would be missed, Ben squeezed in next to Pete. ‘Managed to wangle a late-night pass from Saffron then?’ he asked.
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