The Great Escape

by Charlotte Fallowfield

  ‘No,’ I said as I shook my head violently. He’d said he’d never share. I didn’t want to be the woman who forced him to share. I didn’t want to risk him hating me for making him confront his deepest fears, as if that happened, there was never going to be any chance for us.

  ‘I was team leader. It was my job to … I swept an alleyway in Helmand Province, where we were searching for insurgents. Christ … it’s like I’m back there right now, I can feel the heat, how my lips are cracked and covered in dust. I can smell the donkey and camel crap on the dirt track.’ His voice was gruff and full of emotion that made my heart soften further. ‘I thought it was clear, so I … I signalled to my team … I told them it was ok to move forward and … Jesus,’ he exhaled sharply, and I winced as I heard him practicing the breathing technique he’d taught me.

  ‘I don’t want to know, Weston, I don’t need to know.’

  ‘But I need to tell you, Georgie, I need to,’ he shouted, losing his cool for the first time since I’d met him. I closed my eyes and hugged myself harder, hating to hear the pain in his voice. And it wasn’t just pain I could hear, taste, and feel. It was the loneliness in his voice at never being able to share whatever it was that tortured him, that forced him to leave a job he loved, ruined his last relationship, and made him wake up in a panic some of the rare nights we spent together. ‘I need to tell someone who won’t just nod their head, write things on a piece of damn paper, and tell me a bottle of pills will solve it all. I need to tell someone why I’m so screwed up, I’d do pretty much anything to hang on to the girl I love, the girl that gives me more peace than I’ve had since I made that mistake.

  ‘And right now, I can feel you slipping through my fingers like grains of sand through an hourglass, and that scares me more than anything I faced over there. You’ll probably wonder how you could have loved a guy like me in a minute. Because I know you loved me, Georgie, even if you don’t now. Captain Weston Argent, hard on the outside and as weak as a damn sickly kitten on the inside. Do you … do you know how many … how many men died that day because I made one stupid mistake? Because I missed that landmine? Do you?’

  ‘Stop, Weston, don’t do this to yourself,’ I cried as my face creased up, failing miserably to stop the force of the tears that began their relentless journey down my cheeks as I took on some of his pain.

  ‘Five men, Georgie,’ he whispered between gasps for air. ‘Five men,’ he repeated loudly. ‘I … I … held my best friend Gavin in my arms and watched the blood pouring out of a gaping hole where his thigh used to be as he painfully died of shock and blood loss. I can feel his warm blood all over me, Georgie, smell that metallic tang. I see the light extinguishing in his eyes nearly every time I fall asleep. So if … if you’re going to leave me, then you leave me with your eyes wide open about who I really am. I never wanted any secrets between us. Never. Christ, I can’t breathe, G … Georgie … I … I can’t breathe,’ he panted, each gasp for air ripping me apart from the inside out, just how I imagined stepping on that landmine would do. It was so painful to know what he’d endured and what he’d taken on himself for something that wasn’t even in his control.

  I heard a thud and spun around, desperately wiping the tears off my face, to find him curled up in a ball on the wood floor. He was clawing at his t-shirt collar as he started to hyperventilate, and Bertie began to howl in distress. I dropped to my knees and reached behind Weston to search the back pockets of his shorts. I extracted his penknife and flicked the blade out. Working quickly but carefully, I sliced through his t-shirt from his taut stomach all the way up to his neck and peeled it back to free him from the feeling of being smothered by the material.

  ‘In through the nose, out through the mouth. In through the nose, out through the mouth,’ I repeated over and over as I sat down and gently pulled his head onto my lap, while Bertie whimpered behind us, as distressed as we both were. I continued repeating my instructions as I rubbed Weston’s back with one hand and ran my fingertips through his hair, gently massaging his scalp. ‘That’s it, in through the nose and out through the mouth. You’re safe here, nothing can hurt you.’ Except for me, it seemed. Had me walking away, taking a time out to consider our relationship, really done this to him?

  ‘Georgie,’ he croaked, his eyes frantically roving over my face as they adjusted to the encroaching darkness.

  ‘I’m here. Keep breathing like you taught me. You’re having a panic attack. I’m not going anywhere. And you listen to me and you listen good. You’re not weak. There’s nothing weak about signing up to serve your country or risking your life every single time you step into hostile territory to try and make the world a safer place for all of us. All of us who live in blissful oblivion as to just how bad things are, or how many lives are lost in the call of duty. You didn’t plant that mine. You may have made one mistake under stressful conditions, but think of all the lives you’ve probably saved by putting yourself in harm’s way every day. Abbie makes a mistake and someone ends up paying a bit more on their tax bill, I make a mistake and Portia ends up with a lopsided bouffant, but no one dies. I can’t even begin to imagine the pressures anyone in the forces feels when they have the lives of countless humans in their hands every day.’

  ‘I need someone … to forgive me, Georgie. I need forgiveness,’ he sobbed, breaking my heart to see how ripped up he still was over it. ‘And Gavin’s family … they refused to see me. I couldn’t even go to his burial.’

  ‘They were grieving, Weston. I’m sure they regret that decision now. You don’t need their forgiveness, you want it,’ I said softly, channelling Daphne’s sage advice. ‘What you really need is to forgive yourself. You’re a good man, Weston Argent. I wouldn’t have fallen in love with you so hard if you weren’t.’

  ‘You … still … love me?’ he asked, his breathing starting to regulate as I stroked his hair.

  ‘I’ll always love you, handsome.’ I offered him a sad smile and bent down to kiss his forehead.

  ‘Does that mean … that you forgive me?’ he asked, hope in his voice and his eyes.

  ‘Weston,’ I breathed, feeling my stomach knot. ‘Now isn’t the time for that conversation. Just like you questioned whether it was Bertie I wanted to see more of or you, if I tell you that I forgive you now, you’ll always wonder if it’s because I felt sorry for you after you shared your secret and not because I meant it. If I forgive you, I need to do it in my own time without feeling pressured.’

  ‘I didn’t come here planning to make … you feel sorry for me, or by using this to try and win you around.’

  ‘I kind of guessed that, because as a seduction technique, it really sucks,’ I smiled, wiping my face on my t-shirt.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered, holding my gaze as I continued to comfort him.

  ‘So am I.’

  I woke up feeling like my head had been split by an axe and was greeted by a wet and sloppy kiss from Bertie.

  ‘Oh, baby boy, I missed you so much.’ I laughed as I hugged him and nuzzled into his neck. ‘Where’s Weston?’ I asked him.

  We’d fallen asleep fully clothed, well me anyway. Weston had ditched the tattered remains of his t-shirt before curling up on the bed with me, his head on my chest as I’d held him and made sure he didn’t have another panic attack before he fell into a deep sleep.

  Bertie barked and looked towards the door that led out to the open-plan kitchen-diner-lounge at the front of the cottage. I got up and put him down on the floor and watched him trot over to sit by the door, cocking his head as if he was telling me to hurry up. I headed to the Jack and Jill bathroom, which linked the two bedrooms at the back of the cottage. Mum and Dad had gutted the place and remodelled it with the best of everything, making sure the bi-fold doors that spanned the front of the cottage afforded a one hundred and eighty degree view of the headland, ocean, and bay. I grabbed my toothbrush and the toothpaste, trying to avoid looking at my pale face, with its obvious symptoms of a night of tears and fretful
sleep etched into it. Instead, I took out my frustration at my predicament on my teeth, until they were squeaky clean and my mouth felt minty fresh.

  ‘Come on then, Bertie, let’s see what he’s doing,’ I suggested, as I opened the bedroom door and stepped into the sunlight-filled room.

  ‘Morning.’ Weston smiled tentatively as he held my gaze from where he was leaning back against the galley-style kitchen that spanned the left wall.

  ‘Morning,’ I replied, lifting my head to sniff the air as my tummy growled.

  ‘I’ve made coffee, but you’re seriously low on food. In fact, the only thing I could find was your chips, so I put them in the oven to warm up. They should be ready now.’

  ‘Great, thanks.’ I gave him a quick smile, my mind racing as I tried to think how on earth we were going to handle things. ‘Do you think it’s safe to open the doors, or will Bertie run for the water?’

  ‘I think it’s safe to say that he’s scared of water for life. Steve even has trouble giving him a bath.’

  ‘Right, Steve and Jane, your brother and sister-in-law?’

  ‘Hmmm,’ he confirmed.

  ‘Do they know what you told me last night?’

  ‘No,’ he responded quickly. ‘Only you and my therapist.’

  I flipped the locks and slowly drew back the glass doors, the scent of the sea immediately filling the room. Bertie scuttled out and sat on the top step, his face turned up to the sun as his little tail wagged. I rubbed his head and went back inside to scoop up my coffee. Weston slid the plate of hot chips onto the small white-washed dining table. I sat down and pulled my feet up onto the chair, then sipped my coffee and grabbed a chip as Weston sat opposite me.

  ‘Urgh, these chips are salted.’ He screwed up his face as he swallowed his mouthful.

  ‘Mmmm-hmmm,’ I nodded, reaching for the sea salt cellar and deliberately grinding more on them as I held his gaze. He narrowed his eyes at me.

  ‘So, you’re not in a sharing mood then.’

  ‘You know how I love salt on my food. Why don’t you take some money out of my purse and go and get yourself something. I’ll be going shopping to restock my cupboards later.’

  ‘I have no shirt.’

  ‘It’s a hot, sunny day. You’ll get more looks if you go shopping with a shirt on.’

  ‘So first it’s reminding me you don’t share, now you’re implying no one will find my physique attractive. What next, I get back to find you’ve stolen my car and left me here?’

  ‘I’m too honest to steal a car. I’ll be here.’

  ‘You’re not going to forgive me, are you?’ he asked quietly.

  ‘I need more time alone to think and come to a decision, Weston. Which is where the whole “you leaving me in peace while you go and get some breakfast” comes into it. And don’t even think of telling me you need to leave at three o’clock,’ I warned, holding up my hand.

  ‘Actually, two would be ideal as I’m an hour further away,’ he retorted. ‘But I cleared my schedule for the week, hoping we could work this out.’

  ‘Great, a whole week for me to get over your deceit,’ I said, heavy on the sarcasm as I flashed him an unimpressed look.

  ‘I think I’ll go and give you some space. When you said you might not forgive me, I accepted that I might not deserve it. But I didn’t expect you to turn into someone who seems to be taking delight in taunting me.’ He snatched his wallet off the table and stalked out, calling for Bertie to follow him.

  ‘God damn it,’ I moaned, throwing a chip across the room in frustration. I didn’t want to be that person either, but I was so angry with him and he was the only person I could take that anger out on. I put the chips out on the deck for the seagulls to fight over, inhaled my coffee, and headed inside for a shower, hoping to clear my head.

  When I saw that he wasn’t back yet, I grabbed a bottle of water and headed outside. I pulled the doors shut and locked them, slipping the key under the mat as I figured it would be the first place he’d look when he got back. I stretched on the steps and jogged on the spot for a minute before setting my watch and heading out for a run. I took the beach towards the headland and ran down the side of the ocean, the fresh air blowing away the cobwebs as my ponytail swung in the breeze.

  It was an hour and a half later when I felt ready to return, and I spotted him sitting on the top step again, the doors to the cottage pulled back. Bertie spotted me and started barking as he ran to greet me and circled around me as we made our way back.

  ‘Seriously? Under the mat here too?’ Weston scolded in an unamused tone.

  ‘I’ve got Jim the handyman coming to fit an external key safe tomorrow. I’m sorry for being a bitch earlier,’ I huffed as I plopped down beside him and drained the last few drops from my bottle of water.

  ‘I don’t think anyone could ever accuse you of being a bitch, Georgie. It just wasn’t you, and I hate that my behaviour made you react like that. We’re both hurting over this, regardless of the fact that it was my fault.’

  ‘I know,’ I nodded, setting my empty bottle down. Bertie nosed it out of the way before plonking himself down between us with a grunt.

  ‘So where do we go from here? Repeatedly saying I’m sorry, however sincere I am, isn’t going to make what happened go away.’

  ‘Honestly?’ I held his gaze and he nodded. I swallowed hard and looked down at Bertie, fondling his ear. ‘I’d like you to go home, sooner than later, so I don’t worry about you driving such a long way in the dark when you’re tired and upset.’

  ‘So that’s it? We’re over?’ he gasped. ‘You promised me, Georgie. You promised you wouldn’t leave, just like I did. Don’t do this.’

  ‘Weston,’ I whispered, moving my hand from Bertie’s ear to capture Weston’s hand as it flew up to rake through his hair. I tangled my fingers with his and squeezed hard as I looked up at him. ‘As Abbie very wisely said, until I tell you in no uncertain terms that our relationship is over, it’s not leaving, it’s having a time out. And I still need a time out.’

  ‘What if I give you time and you focus on all of the bad and forget the good?’

  ‘There’s a lot of good, I’ll never forget the good, but that doesn’t mean that the bad isn’t more prominent in my mind right now. What you did might seem small and inconsequential to you, but to me it isn’t. If I forgive you for lying now, how can I trust that you won’t lie again?’

  ‘Because my lies were only ever to win you, Georgie, never to deceive you.’

  ‘I hear that. And I want you to know how much it means to me that you shared what you did last night, after swearing you wouldn’t. You’ll never know how touched I am that you trusted me enough to do that, and I only hope that it helps you and doesn’t make matters worse. You said you needed to tell me, and I’m telling you now what I need. And that’s time to let what you’ve said sink in and to reach my decision.’ I leaned over and kissed his cheek, lingering as I breathed him in, closing my eyes for a moment. ‘I’m going to go and stock up on food. I think it’s best if you’re gone when I get back. I’ll be a while, so help yourself to a shower and some water for your trip home. Dad might have a spare t-shirt in the wardrobe in the other bedroom that you can take. Let me know when you’ve arrived home safely so I don’t worry.’

  ‘I’m assuming you have a new number, which I don’t have.’

  ‘You can email me.’ I stood up, his hand stretching up as he refused to let go.

  ‘A time out, right?’

  ‘A time out,’ I nodded. He sighed and kissed my fingertips, the bristles of his beard feeling rough and strange on my sensitive skin.

  I backed away and swiped my purse off the coffee table. Gulping down a ball of mixed emotion, I avoided looking at him as I jogged along the decking, took the side steps at the far end, and powered away from him. I felt evil as I pictured the hurt look on his face as he’d hung on to my hand until the last moment.

  Because I’d lied too. I’d already made my decision.
r />   Chapter Fourteen

  Persistence

  Fête Day in July

  ‘SO, HOW ARE YOU going to top hashtag turdgate two this year?’ I asked Abbie as we followed Miller, Quinn, and Charlie over to her tent with the last of her boxes.

  ‘Oh no, uh-uh. There isn’t going to be a turdgate three. I called it turdgate the sequel last year, but there definitely won’t be a series that stars me.’

  ‘Maybe there’ll be a spin-off featuring Lady K,’ I grinned, as I flicked my head to the wrapped package balanced on top of her cookies.

  ‘Sssshhhh! Don’t wake the spawns of Satan before they’re rehomed and can wreak their incinerating bowel torture on another unsuspecting victim.’

  ‘You’d better hope she doesn’t pass them on to Lord Kirkland, or worse, his beagles.’

  ‘Oh God, can you imagine?’ she giggled.

  ‘Really trying not to,’ I laughed. ‘And for the record, I think you ought to ask Daphne to entertain the crowds with her singing at your stall again. She went down a treat with them last time.’

  ‘Not to me, she didn’t. The Final Countdown as I was dying? I mean, honestly, was she taunting my bottom? It was so far from the final countdown, it was untrue. Poor Weston had to put up with the symphony of bowels as I spent the rest of the afternoon glued to the toilet while I tried to fit the river Nile through the eye of a needle.’

  ‘Yes, poor Weston,’ I sighed wistfully.

  ‘Just ring him. You’re missing him terribly, I know you are. Everyone knows that you’ve forgiven him and would take him back in a heartbeat except the one man who needs to know.’

  ‘I need him to come to me, Abbie. I need him to prove that he really knows me and can give me what I need.’

  ‘Steady on. He’s a personal trainer, he’s not qualified to do a brain transplant and make you start thinking rationally again,’ she replied with a roll of her eyes.