The First Time I Saw Your Face

by Hazel Osmond

  ‘Is it, rot,’ Sheila retorted. ‘It’s simply an appreciation of the finer things in life.’

  ‘Really?’ The heavy weight on that first syllable indicated Lionel was not convinced.

  ‘Furthermore,’ Sheila said, ‘you’re suggesting women shouldn’t voice their attraction for men. And I thought you were a champion of equality?’

  Jennifer had to turn away at that, feeling her loyalties were becoming divided. On the one hand, Sheila was having a hard time with Reece again (who wanted to go to Ibiza to join his elder brother). On the other, Lionel was a sweetheart and looked genuinely put out. She suspected that it was who was being discussed rather than the words being used that was really annoying him.

  ‘I am a champion of equality,’ Lionel objected. ‘I’m the last person who wants a return to the Victorian age, when women weren’t even meant to look at their own …’ He glanced up at the woman he was helping. Too late. She snatched her ticket out of his hand and walked away.

  ‘Watch it, potty-mouth,’ Sheila said with a cackle. ‘That’s much worse than me saying I thought Matt’s backside looked like a couple of ripe peaches. Oh, hey up, here he comes. Ssh now.’

  Jennifer turned to see Matt making his way down the spiral staircase and wondered why the metal treads were not melting under his feet. The way he moved, that slightly worried expression that was always lurking, they were making her feel like she wanted to break a lot of library rules.

  ‘Yes, definitely ripe peaches,’ Sheila said as Matt came up to the desk and Jennifer heard Lionel ‘Tsk’ and walk away.

  ‘Peaches?’ Matt asked, looking wonderfully puzzled.

  ‘Oh, don’t mind me, pet. Just making my shopping list.’ Sheila picked up a pencil and waved it about. ‘Cat food, beans, broccoli, fresh peaches.’

  ‘This time of year?’

  ‘Oh, it can get quite hot here in Northumberland, end of March.’

  ‘Hot flushes anyway,’ Jennifer said quietly.

  Matt looked completely confused before saying, ‘I’m a bit peckish. How do you feel about lunch, Jennifer, can you go yet?’

  ‘Lionel’s meant to be going for lunch first.’ Sheila was grinning. ‘But don’t mind that, you trot along instead. I need to have more of a chat with him about soft, downy fruit and hard, ripe—’

  ‘I’ll get my coat,’ Jennifer said.

  Matt was still looking bewildered when Jennifer met him outside, and as they were waiting for a table in the café, he said, ‘Why is Sheila so interested in fruit?’

  Jennifer didn’t reply, choosing instead to enjoy the intimacy of being shoved up against him as they queued, his shoulder against hers. He repeated the question and she still didn’t answer, knowing that he would turn to her to see if she’d heard. When he did, faced with those eyes and his slightly parted lips, she dropped her gaze and said, ‘Scurvy, her family are prone to it.’

  The sound of a donkey braying saved her from further explanation and she scrabbled for her phone.

  ‘I will kill Danny. Um … do you mind if I just go outside and answer this, it’s … I won’t be long.’

  Mack watched her go out and stand in the courtyard of the café. Today she had on a beautiful pale mauve suede coat and sexy little ankle boots. Her chin was up and her face animated and he guessed it was Cressida on the phone. There was something telling about the way she was laughing and how her free hand was relaxed, but picking little bits of moss off one of the walls. Cress was up early, what was happening?

  Did I just think ‘sexy boots’?

  He looked at Jennifer again and particularly the scarring. It was the bit near her eye that was most off-putting, probably because her eyes were so beautiful. She turned her back, and he filled in the time wondering how sad he should pretend to be about his late girlfriend.

  Tiring quickly of that, he watched Jennifer turn slightly with the phone still to her ear and thought of the call he’d had from Tess earlier. Phyllida was due out of hospital at the weekend and Tess seemed upbeat about how she was – a bit irritable and disorientated, but not bad. That had put Mack on alert and he had asked whether Stephen Fry, Stephen Hawking or Professor Brian Cox had been visiting her. They were the nicknames he had given the motley crew Phyllida drank with and when Tess said they had, Mack knew that one of them must be bringing her in drink. Stephen Hawking was his bet. He didn’t say anything to Tess; let her think the best and he’d try and sort it out when he was finished here.

  He saw Jennifer put the phone back in her pocket as the waitress waved him towards a free table and, just out of interest, he watched what happened when Jennifer came back in. The waitress, who obviously knew her, simply said ‘Hello there, love’, a couple of other people smiled sympathetically, some looked and then looked away; one man couldn’t take his eyes off her and a small child had to be pulled back round in his seat and whispered at quite fiercely. How the Hell did she get used to that? Always under scrutiny. Bit like Cress.

  ‘Sorry about that,’ she said, bright-cheeked from the cold and went and hung her coat up. The blouse under it looked like silk.

  ‘Here,’ she said, getting his notebook out of her bag, ‘found this upstairs when I went for my coat. We’re thinking of stapling all your possessions to your jacket.’

  He did a quick assessment of whether she was flirting with him now he was minus girlfriend and did the surprised look he used when anyone handed him something he’d mislaid. Or in this case, had dropped on the floor earlier and kicked under a large bookcase so that just enough was left poking out to be spotted.

  The man who had been staring at Jennifer earlier was still staring, and Mack caught his eye and stared back at him. The man looked away.

  ‘Important phone call?’ he asked as Jennifer studied the menu.

  She mouthed the word, ‘Cress.’

  ‘OK, don’t say any more.’ He put his hand up. ‘You must get tired of people wanting to hear about her.’

  ‘No, I’m proud of her. I never begrudge anyone asking about her.’

  Hurrah.

  ‘Unless they’re just digging for dirt.’

  Not so hurrah.

  Mack saw that the nosy man was having another sneaky look. Very slowly he let his hand drop and, checking it was out of Jennifer’s sight, gave him the finger. Not long after, the man got up, paid his bill and left.

  ‘She’s all right though … your cousin?’ he asked.

  The waitress came to the table and they ordered.

  ‘You said something about a jealous wife …’ he prompted when the waitress had gone.

  There was a nervous check on the people sitting nearby. ‘Do you mind if we don’t talk about it here? I have to be careful.’

  Great, at this rate, you’re not only going to be here for the play, you’ll be here for the ruddy Christmas pantomime too.

  The place was packed. He needed to get her away somewhere quiet if he was going to make any headway. This morning he’d been ‘researching and writing up the notes’ from his latest walk up to Kielder Forest. It was definitely quiet up there.

  Hang on, why’s she looking at you like that?

  His guilty conscience, never far below the surface, gave his heart rate a bit of a kick.

  ‘Matt,’ Jennifer said, her blue eyes brimming with sympathy, ‘you don’t have to pretend to be all bright and breezy. How are you really feeling … about Sonia?’

  It took him a second to remember that Sonia was his ex and not the lusty version in the shop.

  ‘I’m fine, really fine.’ He did a bit of sighing and tried not to think about how that soft, concerned look from Jennifer was making him feel.

  She shook her head, sadly. ‘Don’t be silly. How can you be fine, finishing a long-term relationship and being so far from all your friends and family? You told me I should show what I felt more; well, the same applies to you. If you want to sit quiet, I’ll understand.’

  ‘No, honestly, Jennifer, I’m actually feeling all right. It hadn’t b
een going well for a long time, me and Sonia, and in a way it’s a bit of a relief to get it all sorted.’ There was a hiatus while Jennifer’s soup and his sandwich were brought to the table, and he watched her shepherd some soup on to her spoon.

  ‘Besides,’ he continued, ‘I had a lovely walk up at Kielder yesterday that lifted my spirits. Do you like it up there?’

  ‘It’s OK,’ she answered without much enthusiasm, and before she said anything else he knew that she was going to take another step forward, trusting him with something that was precious to her.

  ‘Actually,’ she said, looking down at her soup spoon, ‘my favourite place in all Northumberland is Low Newton. It’s a beach, but more than a beach.’ She looked up then, and her eyes were full of life. ‘You should go there, Matt, you’d love it.’

  ‘Oh?’ he said softly, ‘you think so?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘It’s hard to explain … the light, the colours, the atmosphere … they’re all magical.’

  ‘That’s a pretty big claim, Jennifer.’

  ‘It’s a pretty wonderful place, Matt.’

  ‘Prove it,’ he said and felt the conversation whisk out of his control.

  Prove it? What happened to ‘I don’t suppose you’d consider showing me, would you?’

  She was still looking at him and his mouth had gone dry.

  ‘All right,’ she said, slowly as if picking up the gauntlet he had thrown down, ‘I will.’

  He took several large bites out of his sandwich so that neither of them needed to talk again for a while. She ate her soup. She even did that gracefully.

  She put down her spoon again. ‘If you don’t like Low Newton, you won’t do that brutal-honesty thing will you? It’s really special to me, I don’t want it trashed.’

  ‘Jennifer, if it’s special to you, I’ll treat it with kid gloves,’ he said and did not understand why he had put his hand over hers to say it. He always seemed to be putting his hand over hers.

  He saw her blush. It was the only time the scar seemed paler than her skin.

  ‘Would they be kid gloves you haven’t lost yet?’ she asked, and he felt her turn her hand under his so their palms were together.

  ‘Ah! Here you are,’ a voice said and Jennifer’s hand was suddenly not under his any more.

  It was Alex, walking towards the table, pulling up a chair to join them, making a big palaver of taking off his waxed jacket and rolling up his sleeves.

  Nice subliminal message about being ready for a fight there, Alex.

  Had he seen Mack touching Jennifer’s hand and the way she had withdrawn it?

  ‘I’m just on my lunch,’ Jennifer said nervously and then looked at Mack as if realising she’d stated the obvious.

  ‘Yes, I saw you walking this way. Oh, waitress –’ Alex stuck his hand up in the air and did something with his fingers that was nearly a click, and Mack caught Jennifer’s eye and saw the embarrassment there – ‘latte and a toasted teacake.’

  No ‘please’? No ‘hello, Matt’?

  ‘So,’ he said looking at Mack, finally, ‘only a couple of weeks till your big moment – how are rehearsals going?’

  Like you care.

  ‘Really quite well,’ Mack said in his jumpy-dog voice. ‘People seem to be getting into their stride. The scenes with Pamela, Gerry and Steve are so funny. Tremendous. Most of that’s down to Jennifer here.’ He saw her colour again and hoped Alex noticed it. He could almost hear the guy working out how to slap him down.

  Here it comes.

  ‘Saw Danny yesterday,’ Alex said, ‘told me you’d been to the farm. What did you think? As a complete outsider.’

  Thanks for that … Now, what would good old Matt Harper say?

  ‘Fascinating. Never knew there was so much science involved. You know, scanning the sheep to see how many lambs they’re carrying.’

  Alex shook his head, ‘That’s the easy part; it’s coping with all the bloody regulations and restrictions that’s tricky.’

  ‘I don’t think Matt wants to know about those,’ Jennifer said.

  ‘No, that’s the trouble,’ Alex replied grouchily, ‘the public doesn’t want to know anything about the reality of farming, just wants to pick up their cheap chickens in the supermarket.’

  ‘Do you do chickens then?’ Mack asked innocently and saw Jennifer’s flick of a smile.

  ‘No, of course I don’t do chickens. Whatever “do” means. I do sheep. I was just quoting an example.’

  ‘Well, I always buy organic anyway.’ Mack got up quickly. ‘I should go. I’ll get the bill.’

  Alex did a little flap of his hand. ‘It’s all right, we’ll add it to ours.’

  Ours? Jennifer’s face is suggesting there is no ‘ours’.

  ‘And I’m sorry if I interrupted anything earlier.’ Mack saw the little sideways glance that went with Alex’s words.

  ‘Matt’s been having girlfriend trouble,’ Jennifer said very quickly. ‘I was just trying to cheer him up.’

  Girlfriend trouble? You’re avoiding telling him she’s history. Keeping everything sweet as usual.

  ‘Oh dear, really? Never mind, you’ll soon be back in Bristol. I’m sure it’ll sort itself out then.’ Alex’s satisfied smile made Mack feel as if he’d been dismissed.

  Get out of here before you rise to the bait and say something stupid.

  ‘Actually we’ve split up,’ Mack shot back.

  The momentary satisfaction of seeing Alex’s expression fracture was replaced by the knowledge that he had quite unnecessarily made him suspicious and, worst of all, probably made Jennifer wonder why he was winding him up.

  ‘Bus to catch,’ he said before he could do any more damage and left Jennifer to deal with any fallout.

  CHAPTER 24

  Crossing over the dual carriageway, they headed off down a side road that narrowed and meandered between high hedges, adding to the impression that they were alone on some secret path. Jen wound down the window and took a deep breath.

  ‘That smell,’ she said, ‘always gets me.’

  ‘Sorry,’ Matt replied, ‘is it my feet?’ Jennifer laughed, remembering as she set off up that rising scale, to show some restraint: she might feel like whooping and hollering, but she had to keep a lid on this happiness. Matt was simply being shown a beach. She didn’t know what she was being shown, but it felt pretty wonderful.

  ‘It’s the sea,’ she said, curtailing the laugh. ‘Go on, smell it.’

  He put his window down and theatrically took in huge lungfuls of air and just as theatrically coughed it all up again. Her hair started to blow around in the crossdraught.

  ‘Not enough pollution for me,’ he said, but she noticed he left his window down. She gave her full attention to the road again, but the smell of salt lurking in the air was setting off all kind of residual memories of long days on the beach, brushing sand off her skin, trying to get a comb through her hair after the wind and sea had been at it. There had been rare, hot days, but mainly ones like this: blue sky, a sharp zing to the air and the feeling you were on the edge of the world. Anything was possible.

  She had worried away at the weather forecasts since he had thrown down that challenge to show him the beach and had been rewarded with this, a day so bright she had to put her sunglasses on to drive. She watched the hedgerows pass, the forsythia in bloom in gardens and was struck again by the sharpness of the light. There were one, two, three clouds away to the east, strung out as if they were too lazy to bother to really be clouds.

  ‘Still don’t know how you get the sky so big up here,’ he said.

  ‘Special rollers, camouflaged so you can’t see them.’

  It was him laughing now and she knew that if she looked his hair would be blowing around as hers was, and he’d be doing that thing with his hand where he pushed it back any old how and scrunched up his eyes to look through it when it blew down again.

  ‘Much further?’ he asked.

&
nbsp; ‘Just through here and round the bend a bit,’ she said, driving past low houses and a school. When the road headed upwards she felt suddenly bold, ‘Close your eyes. If you want the full experience, you have to close your eyes.’

  ‘Now, Jennifer,’ he said, ‘I’ve seen pictures already. I do my homework, you know.’

  She slowed the car to a stop and gave him a look, glad he couldn’t see her eyes properly behind her sunglasses.

  ‘OK, OK,’ he said, shaking his head, ‘I’ll go for the full experience.’ When he closed his eyes she forced herself to look forward again.

  That’s what he looks like asleep. Ready for kissing awake.

  He made a noise and she turned to look at him again.

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘Nothing. Just a bit of non-polluted air stuck in my throat.’

  ‘Sure?’

  He nodded and she set off again, waiting until the car had come over the hump of the hill and was on the other side before slowing to a halt again and turning to look at him. She wanted to see that moment when he opened his eyes.

  ‘OK, here you go.’ She watched his face and there it was: genuine surprise and then a kind of incredulity. A little boy with his bucket and spade.

  ‘Tell me this is a film set?’ he said, looking at the view and then at her and back at the view, but she was too happy to want to answer and probably would have sat there for much longer if a car had not suddenly come up behind them.

  ‘Let’s go and park,’ she said.

  *

  They walked down the road that ended at the beach and Mack let his face do whatever it wanted in reaction to the sight in front of him. Spread out before them was a bay of almost apricot-white sand. Two lines of low rocks ran out to sea at either end of it, creating an impression that the sea here was enclosed. That impression of shelter and cosiness was echoed by the way the beach was backed by high dunes covered with long, pale green grass. Dotted amongst the grass were huts and larger cabins and the whole feeling was of a little community hunkered down, nestling right on the edge of the sea. That alone would have made it a beautiful place, but what propelled it into the magical league, the kind of place that got into your brain like a siren song, was the feature that dominated the skyline – a ruined castle lying like a mauled and shattered crown on its massive sill of rock. It was impossible to look at it without imagining skeleton knights and ghostly ladies, storms and dungeons, bloody deeds. The juxtaposition of such ruined grandeur next to the tranquillity of the beach did strange things to the viewer’s sense of perspective, and Mack felt that in mist or driving rain it would have cast a sinister, haunting air over the place. Today, in full sun, it was simply stunning.