by Emily Hudson
Ironically I can deal with Livvy, her situation will be dealt with, with a series of choices, they might not be easy choices but at least she’s got options. What I can't cope with, is this not knowing, this all consuming fear I have of never seeing Lucy again.
A noise behind me alerted me to Frank, pacing down the path with purpose. What the hell, clutching my phone. What was I thinking, I must have left it on the table.
‘I heard it ring,’ Frank said waving it aloft. ‘Ethan called, Lucy’s parents haven't heard a thing.’ He offered with sympathy, looking as distraught as I was. ‘Come on up, I’ve made some more coffee.’ Frank really couldn’t have done anymore.
‘Did you hear about our other little drama.’ He silently acknowledged, pursing his lips, nothing passed Frank by.
‘She’ll be fine once the dust has settled. Come sit. I’ve circulated Lucy’s picture to all the hospitals and medical centres, still nothing.’ He nudged me. ‘That’s a good thing Marcus.’
I wanted to believe him I really did, but really we had no idea, until I actually had her back in my arms I didn’t think I would be ok at all.
‘Lets piece together what we do know.’ He said, as if he came right out of a Colombo series. Pen in hand he scribbled a few things at the top of his paper.
‘OK, we both know she was tired, she was doing too much. Livvy said she met her in the toilets, that must have been shortly before she left.’
Frank continued to jot words down. ‘She asked me to take her across to the mainland, I lent her my jumper, she was just wearing that flimsy dress and I didn’t want her to catch her…’ we both knew the word he stopped himself saying. She can’t be, she just can’t. I thought as I put pressure against my pounding temples.
‘Did you see her get into her hire car?’
‘She must have, I remember hearing it start up and yes, yes I saw the lights.’
‘Why haven’t I thought of this before? The hire car! Let’s check with the company.’ Frank had his phone in his hand like a shot. Within minutes we had clarification that should have brought some relief. Lucy had dropped the car off at the airport three hours ago. That meant she was probably en-route home by now, but the big question was why? I wouldn’t get to the bottom of that problem until I saw her, or at the very least spoke to her. With Frank happily phoning Ethan to keep him in the picture, still numb I made my way back up to the house.
Chapter Nineteen
‘Hey Frank, just got to check something, problem with one of the hotels, do you mind taking me across?’ Of course he didn’t mind. Half my problem was convincing him I didn’t need his help. Thankfully he seemed reassured that I’d call him if I needed anything.
‘Do you not have a wrap or anything?’ he said as we made our way out. The crossing was short but it was breezy and the temperature still dropped at night. ‘Here, take this.' He said offering his jumper. ‘I can’t.’
'Yes, you can.’ He persisted.
Resolutely I tried to remain emotionless. ‘Thank you for everything you have done tonight, Frank.’ I said gripping his arm as he helped me out of the boat.
‘You want me to wait?’ Shit, I hadn’t thought of that.
‘No, this could take a while, go back and enjoy the party, I’ll call you.’ I hated lying to Frank, despite him misleading me initially; I’d grown incredibly fond of him.
‘Ciao Ciao,’ he cried as he waved me off.
Getting into my hire car, I trawled the internet to check availability of local hotels, within minutes I was on my way. The hotel wasn’t much to speak of, my reception by the night manager, decidedly frosty. The plus side, it was close to the airport. Stepping inside my room for the night, I closed the door sinking to the ground, my emotions getting the better of me, crying myself into a further, state of exhaustion.
The gaudiness of the bright yellow and blue surroundings was more of an assault on my senses as the sun started to rise. Restlessly I’d tossed and turned most of the night; when I braved looking in the mirror I couldn’t tell if the panda eyes I was sporting was from my failure to remove last night’s waterproof mascara or the result of my sobbing. In an attempt to disguise them I donned my sunglasses. The night porter seemed a little bemused to see someone up before the crack of dawn. Once we had established I wasn’t staying for breakfast and didn’t care that it was included in the price, I had a flight to catch, he finally got down to finalising my bill. ‘You wait!’ he said running off in another direction. Paranoia started to get the better of me, what if he knew Marcus, what if Marcus had been looking for me? You can’t believe how relieved I was as he returned with a brown paper bag filled with pastries and little bottle of juice. Damn these hormones, I nearly broke down just at his kindness. ‘You paid for Bed and Breakfast…Breakfast.’ he said handing over the bag. Little did he know, I was running on empty, fulled only by adrenalin in full fleeing mode. Graciously, I took the bag thanking him, trying desperately not to turn into a spluttering mess again.
It was a long trek back to London, I’d managed to secure a seat on a charter flight jam packed with jovial holiday makers, revealing their golden tans. Then there was me, in last night’s clothes, the worst advert for a dirty stop out ever. Pretending to sleep, I tried to discourage the numerous attempts of the couple in the seat beside me to engage me in conversation.
If I thought I had felt bad last night stepping foot back into the house I had begun to think of as home was more than heartbreaking. Everything was a reminder of us, my emotion soon turned to anger as I berated myself. I knew this would never last, now it wasn’t just me to consider. I ignored the answer machine flashing as I passed it on my way upstairs, it was a stark reminder that I couldn’t stay here anymore. Packing a few essentials and taking the time to freshen up. There was only one thing for it, I’d have to go home. OMG, my parents, how would I begin to tell them?
On the drive down to West Sussex, I decided there was no need to tell anyone, anything. Not that I wanted it to but anything could happen, most people waited till twelve weeks before they told anyone, right? That would be the sensible thing to do.
* * *
‘Darling, I thought you were working abroad? What do we owe the pleasure? My mother stood flabbergasted in the kitchen as I crept through the front door.
‘No reason.’ I lied. ‘Just needed to escape the rat race, I was thinking about taking off to the cottage for a bit.’
My mother’s stare intensified, ‘Are you sure everything is ok? Its just Alicia called and asked if you were here earlier. You two haven’t had a falling out have you?’
‘Of course not Mum. I’m fine honestly, just tired. Licia was probably just checking I got here safely.’ I’d not lied to my mother since breaking a curfew when I was fifteen, it didn’t settle well with me but I was just glad it wasn’t my Dad, he’d see through me instantly.
‘Stop the night, sweetheart, you do look shattered. Your father and I wouldn’t want to think of you driving tired.’
I uttered the words that always managed to pacify my mother, probably any mother, instantly, ‘You’re right Mum.’ Her relief was evident.
‘Go and get settled into your room and I’ll bring you up a cup of tea in a minute.’ Somehow she always knew how to make me feel better.
‘Thanks Mum.’ I blurted out half way up the stairs, hiding my tears yet again.
‘You’ll feel better after some shut eye.’ Her response.
Settling into the familiarity of my old room, fatigue took hold and I don't actually remember getting that promised cup of tea. I woke a few hours later. My unexpected arrival had obviously been the topic of conversation between my mother and father as I interrupted their whisperings as they sat around the dining room table. My mother had a wild imagination at the best of times but I bet they haven’t guessed I was homeless, probably jobless too after leaving Sardinia, oh and throw in pregnant by a man who will be fathering a child to someone else too. Yep I think that just covers it. ‘There’s our sleepi
ng beauty.’ My Dad said wearing his I love you unconditionally, you can tell me anything face. Not today Daddy dearest.
‘Hi Dad.’ I said kissing him on the top of his smooth bald head.
‘How are you feeling darling?’ My mother interjected, ‘Better for the sleep?’
If I say no then I’d be in store for the Spanish inquisition. ‘Yes thanks.’ Smiling so sweetly it terrified even me.
‘Licia’s phoned again dear.’ That took my smile away.
‘What did you say to her?’ I urged a little too forcibly, warranting the scowl I received from my Dad. ‘I told her the truth dear, what else was I expected to say. The poor girl said she was going out of her mind worrying about you. I didn’t want her to worry so I told her you were sleeping. Should we be worried?’
‘No Mum, as I said before, I’m just stressed about work. I need a break.’
‘You would tell us if something was wrong, you know you can tell us anything?’
‘Yes Mum, I know.’ I hid my inner sigh. Just not quite prepared to let the shit hit the fan quite this soon. My mother’s interrogation techniques weren’t quite over.
‘She said to say she has told Marcus you are safe.’ FUCK! Just the mention of his name must have set my eyeballs popping out of my head.
‘That’s good.’ I said trying to sound indifferent. ‘I might head out to the cottage a little earlier if you don’t mind.’
‘What about dinner?’ My mother’s first concern.
‘Sooner I can get there the sooner I can unwind.’
My father who had been silent since the beginning, piped up. ‘A bit of country air might be just what you need Puddin’ Pie.’ My Dad’s way of silently fighting my corner.
‘How about I make you a picnic for the journey?’ My mum said, the only way she knew to make things better when I wouldn’t let her in; a compromise.
‘Wouldn’t mind that cup of tea too, if that’s alright Mum.’ My way of saying, that’s ok Mum, I know you only interfere because you love me. Sometimes I longed to be part of a big family, with enough siblings to take the pressure off me and the ill-conceived and irresponsible mistakes I make, but alas, deep down I wouldn’t have it any other way. I have been and still am the primary concern of Joan and Mitchell Crawford. With my mother now occupied it was the turn of Daddy dearest.
‘So Marcus, that’s the fellow you were so attached to at Alicia’s wedding.’ My father stated, proving nothing went past him. I’m sure the pink in my cheeks rapidly turned scarlet. ‘Are you two…?’ He enquired.
‘Dad, please!’ I implored, Marcus was the last person I wanted to discuss right now. ‘OK ‘Puddin’, just remember, nothing is ever as bad as it may seem at first, take whatever time you need at the cottage and if you need company…I’ll be there in a shot.’ I was a goner, tears welled in my eyes as I took a deep breath and looked to the ceiling trying to stem the flow. ‘Hey, it’s alright.’ My father soothed, pulling me up into his arms. ‘He hasn’t hurt you, has he?’ I shook my head violently, he hadn’t hurt me in the way my father had assumed. ‘You’re ok health wise?’ I nodded. With my confirmation he held me tighter. ‘Then nothing else matters, whatever it is, tell us when you need to, just stay safe.’ He said pulling away to kiss my forehead.
‘I love you Daddy.’ I said resuming my head on his chest.
‘I love you too ‘Puddin.’
By the time my mother had returned with a cup of tea and a bountiful picnic hamper, ample enough for a family of four, Dad had returned to his favourite chair and was engrossed watching his favourite gardening program. Curling my feet under me, I cozied up on the sofa to enjoy my tea. The dulcet tones of the veritable merit of using natural methods over chemicals to control black fly on broad beans, strangely cleared my mind, or maybe it was being back in the only real place I could ever call home. I obviously looked like I was about to settle in for the night.
‘You can still stay.’
Unfurling my legs I took a stretch, as my Mum took the empty cup from me. ‘Thanks Mum, but I better get on the road.’
Chapter Twenty
The journey went by in a blur, I must have been on automatic pilot, a road often driven, our little haven in the mountains had been the mainstay for many a summer holiday and family getaway. I can’t quite explain the feeling I got as I crossed the bridge into Wales, my problems were still with me but yet I breathed a sigh of relief, maybe I had needed to escape the rat race after all. Driving on further my childhood dream fairytale castle appeared on the hillside. I never failed to smile seeing it nestled up in the trees, it’s turrets peaking through. There was no smile on my face today, only a deep seated sickness from my misery. Growing up I would dream of getting married there, I’d long since stopped believing in fairytales but had held out hope that happily ever afters could exist; maybe that idea was just another part of a fairytale after all. Glimpsing the castle, however briefly, only compounded the reality of my situation, I was as far away from a happily ever after than I’d ever been.
On I drove, through the valleys till I hit the top of last one. Perched on the top of the hill all that was before me, as far as the eye could see, was farmland until it reached the sea, the view hadn’t changed in years. Turning right, the sound of grass, weeds and the occasional stone lashing the undercarriage of my car was a little disconcerting as I headed along the untended road that led to my parents’ cottage. Just a few more twists and turns and I’d reach my destination. Fatal! My mind had switched off, so much so I had no idea what I was thinking when a sheep seemingly appeared from nowhere and I swerved to avoid it on a narrow road surrounded by dry stone walls. Thankfully I’d not been travelling at great speed, I dread to think what state I would be in if the airbag had been deployed. Shaking, I got out to survey the damage. The car in my eyes looked a right off, the left wing destroyed, crumpled on impact, the bonnet lifted and windscreen cracked and I couldn’t quite see the front nearside tyre which was now embedded under a pile of rubble. This was all I needed, Mr Thomas’ dry stone wall had proved quite the adversary, coming off considerably better than my rust bucket, despite the rather large hole I’d knocked through it, it at least, could be re-built. With my car blocking the road and being in no position to move it tonight, I focused on getting my stuff inside the cottage which was thankfully only another 300 yards down the road. Trudging down the road I must have resembled a pack horse, I was certainly feeling like one by the time I turned the key in the lock. Collapsing into a chair, breathing in the damp air from the vacant stone cottage, I resigned myself to the fact that in coming here, my problems had only increased. What was worse, I would have to turn my phone on to let my parents know I’d arrived. I rattled off a quick text to my Dad, minus any reference to walls.
Arrived safe, love you.
As I typed, notification after notification pinged up on my phone, I tried not to look as I rooted through my mum’s letter rack to find Mr Thomas’ number but I got the general gist, messages, missed call, voicemail, Marcus, Marcus, Marcus, Marcus, Marcus, Marcus… Finding the number I needed, I settled down to grovel to a man of few words. Mr Thomas owned the farmland that surrounded the cottage. In the decades my parents and I had known him, the most we’d ever really got out of him was a grunt; somehow I feared I’d get more in reaction to this. ‘Evan Thomas,’ was the answer I got within moments of dialling. Oh shit, not Evan, could this day get any worse? I should explain, our cottage was the mainstay for all our family holidays, whenever we visited when I was a kid, Evan and I were inseparable, then all of a sudden something changed. I can put my finger on the exact moment things got weird. We’d been mucking around in one of the barns when suddenly he stopped what he was doing and made an attempt to kiss me. Of course, I turned him down, he was Evan, my best friend. From that day forth, Evan Thomas was a thorn in my side every time we visited, he’d either ignore my very existence or poke fun at me and call me names. Can’t tell you what hurt the most. ‘Evan? It’s Lucy Crawford, I was hopi
ng to speak to your Dad; I’m at the cottage and I’ve had a little accident…’ Without enabling me to finish my sentence he interrupted, ‘I’m on my way up!’ With that I heard the slamming of a door. I perched on the window-seat looking out waiting, apprehensively. Nothing prepared me for the sight of him as he set off the security light, striding confidently up the driveway. This hulk of a man, boy had he filled out. His long muscular arms swung with every stride. Drawing closer I could see his hair hadn’t changed, still a dirty blonde shade, unruly spiking up in every direction, but the 5 o’clock shadow, that was new. Did he even shave the last time I’d seen him? The years had passed, he’d left the village to go to college and as I grew older, the times I came here got far and few between. As I made my way to the front door I hoped whatever angst there had been between had passed too.
Opening the door, ‘Whoa!’ We both stood there not saying a thing as we took each other in. Composing myself, remembering why he was here, I was the first to speak ‘Thanks so much for coming up Evan.’ I opened the door to invite him in. Shifting from foot to foot, he removed his boots before stepping inside.
‘You know I would have been here sooner but some dizzy blonde has parked her car in the middle of my wall, blocking the road.’
I knew he was only joking but for some unknown reason I couldn’t handle anything right now, my eyes filled and before I knew it I was in his arms and the tears were streaming.
‘Oh Lucy, it was a joke. I’m sorry, I think the shock has hit you. Come with me, I’ll get you a drink.’
He led me into the kitchen and sat me down at the table. I was relieved when he poured water into the kettle but then he picked a glass off the shelf and filled it with a couple of fingers of my father’s favourite single malt and placed it on the table before returning to the kettle. At any normal time I would have reached for the glass and downed the lot, I just stared at the glass and its amber coloured contents. I was still staring so I didn’t notice him place a steaming cup of tea in front of me.