by Fay Keenan
‘OK, I get it,’ Sam held up his hands. ‘I just wanted to clear the air between us, that’s all. I’ll keep my distance from now on. I was just worried. I don’t want you losing your job over me, or anything.’
Florence laughed without humour. ‘Do you honestly think I’d let what happened between us affect my professional life? You really do reckon a lot of yourself, Sam Ellis, don’t you?’
Face flaming, feeling more and more like a schoolboy caught looking up something rude on his phone, Sam couldn’t get out of Florence’s house fast enough.
Some time later, when Tom and Aidan barrelled through the front door, they found Sam sitting staring at his phone in the darkness of the living room. The fire had been lit but was smouldering lethargically in the grate, and the curtains were still open.
‘Hey,’ Aidan said as he flipped on the lights. ‘Why are you sitting in the dark?’
‘Suited my mood,’ Sam said morosely.
‘What’s up?’ Tom had gone through to the kitchen, in search of more booze, so Aidan sat down on the opposite end of the sofa to Sam.
‘Nothing. I’m fine,’ Sam said, but even he was unconvinced. ‘Well, OK, I’m not, really, but I can’t do much about that now.’
‘Florence?’ Aidan asked gently.
Sam nodded. ‘I was worried about her. I’d, um, overheard something that concerned me when I was down the shop earlier. Turns out that it might have been the wrong information.’
‘Really?’ Aidan busied himself with plumping up the cushions next to him. Had Sam been in an observant mood, he might have wondered why his brother wasn’t meeting his gaze.
‘Yup. And, twat that I was, I raced round there, full of self-righteous concern, only to be told quite quickly that I was barking up the wrong tree, and more or less asked to leave.’
‘You never were the best at communicating on an emotional level,’ Aidan observed. ‘Too many years of buttoning up in the navy, I reckon.’
‘Well, anyway,’ Sam said, reluctant to get into a lengthy discussion of his shortcomings with his brother, ‘I messed up, again, so Florence and I are no better off than we were a few weeks back when this all kicked off.’
‘Tell me,’ Aidan said gently, ‘why was it you walked out on a perfectly good woman again?’
Sam swallowed. ‘Because… because she told me something I didn’t want to hear.’
‘Which was?’ Aidan glanced at the doorway to the living room, where Tom was hovering, and Sam saw him motioning for Tom to head back to the kitchen.
‘That I was protecting you too much, and as a result making you too dependent on me.’ Sam shook his head. ‘I told her that, if loosening the reins meant scooping you off the top of Cheddar Gorge, then there was no way I was prepared to do that.’
‘Don’t you think that’s a bit patronising?’ Aidan asked. ‘I mean, I had two years of intensive physical and psychological therapy after Helmand. And yes, your support since has been a huge help, but you make it sound as though I couldn’t have done it without you.’ He laughed. ‘I know it’s been a bit hairy at times, but I don’t think you can entirely blame yourself for my shortcomings.’
‘You could have lost your life at the top of the gorge,’ Sam said gruffly. ‘And it was my fault. I should have read the signs.’
‘Bollocks,’ Aidan said briskly. ‘I made a stupid decision that day, one which, if I could go back and do it again, I’d never have made. But, take it from me, you can’t live your life looking back on things like that. It’ll drive you mad.’ He leaned over and put a hand on Sam’s shoulder. ‘It wasn’t your fault.’
Sam dropped his gaze from Aidan’s as he felt tears threatening again. ‘I know.’
‘Then why are you so frightened to admit that maybe I’m not the reason you’re holding back from Florence? That you like to think I’m dependent on you because it means you don’t actually have to face up to living your own life like an adult? Feeling the things you want to feel? And, maybe, admitting to the fact that you left the navy because you wanted to, not because of me?’
‘I’m not quite sure about that last part,’ Sam said, ‘but maybe you’re right about the rest of it.’
‘Well, that’s a start,’ Tom said as, at a nod from Aidan, he slipped back into the room. ‘The question is, what are you going to do about it?’
‘What can I do? She’s really pissed off with me. And after what I said to her today, I’m not surprised.’
Tom and Aidan looked shifty.
‘Yeah,’ Aidan said. ‘Sorry about that.’
‘About what?’
Aidan’s eyes swivelled towards Tom, who grinned and nodded. ‘She overheard something we might have, er, cooked up to try to force you two back together, which obviously went a bit wrong.’
‘You what?’ Sam spluttered. ‘No wonder Florence all but threw me out. She must have wondered what the hell I was talking about when I rocked up on her doorstep.’
‘And, worse than that, she now thinks you’re a mopey emo twat who can’t get over her,’ Aidan smirked. ‘Although, on the basis of what we’ve talked about tonight, perhaps that’s not so far from the truth!’
‘Great,’ Sam muttered. ‘And I’ve got to go to her school tomorrow and make a bigger fool of myself in front of a load of kids.’
‘Perhaps, after you’ve done that, it might be a chance to be properly honest with her about how you feel,’ Aidan said, taking a pull from the beer bottle Tom passed him. ‘Forget all this crap about being responsible for me, accept that you’re basically a commitment-phobic idiot, but tell her that, if she’ll have you for the next few hundred lifetimes, you’re hers.’
‘No guarantee she’ll listen, though,’ Sam said, sipping his own beer.
‘Well, let’s face it, bro,’ Aidan said. ‘On the basis of your last conversation with her, what the hell have you got to lose?’
Sam, despite everything, had to concede that for once Aidan was right.
46
Shortly after Sam left, Florence gave up any hope of settling down to either work or pleasure for the rest of the day. How dare he come marching over here, patronising her in that way! Their relationship had been a zero-sum game, really, with both of them distancing themselves after it had become clear that neither could come to terms with the bigger picture; it had hurt, but she was used to packing up and moving on. She may not actually be able to move away from Sam, but she could certainly put the distance between them emotionally. She wasn’t going to take back what she’d said about him making Aidan dependent on him, even if a small voice was nagging at her that Sam probably hadn’t needed to hear it from her. Not so soon after they’d got together, anyway.
Pacing her living room, feeling a restlessness that she knew wasn’t just going to go away, she decided to head out for a walk. As she reached Willowbury High Street, now back to what could only be described as normal in Willowbury’s own terms after the Christmas decorations had come down, she caught sight of Josie striding back from Willowbury Hill with her dog, a loveable spaniel called Molly.
‘Hey,’ Josie waved with the hand that wasn’t clutching the dog’s lead. ‘What are you doing out on this chilly February evening when you don’t have a dog to walk?’
‘Got fed up of staying in,’ Florence said morosely.
‘And…?’ Josie immediately seemed to sense there was more to it than that.
‘Oh, you know,’ Florence replied. ‘Confused, stressed, pissed off… same old, same old.’
Josie reached out and gave her a slightly awkward one-armed hug, while Molly jumped up and put muddy paws all over her knees by way of comfort. ‘Come on,’ she said. ‘I’ve got time for a quick drink if you promise not to tell Nick. I’m not supposed to be boozing during the week.’
‘Deal,’ Florence’s voice was muffled by Josie’s thick, brightly coloured scarf.
They walked into The Travellers’ Rest and ordered a couple of glasses of wine, settling themselves at the table underneath the p
icture of the actors that had caught Florence’s eye on Christmas Day. The sight of Elsie and Henry didn’t really help, unfortunately. Their love affair, cut short in its prime, was too tragic to bear thinking about.
‘So, what’s really up?’ Josie took a sip of her wine.
‘Bloody Sam Ellis, of course,’ Florence muttered. ‘He comes marching over to mine this afternoon, telling me he’s sorry I’ve taken our break-up so badly, that he doesn’t want to be the cause of me – get this – losing my job, and generally being a patronising prick into the bargain! Honestly, the nerve!’
Josie choked on her wine. ‘Really?’
‘I mean, sure, I’m a bit gutted that it didn’t work out, but I said from the start I wouldn’t get involved with someone with a military background because of the potential upheaval and commitment issues. Who the hell does he think he is, thinking he’s ruined my life?’
‘Perhaps you misinterpreted what he was saying?’ Josie’s face had taken on a most uncharacteristic flush, which was too swift to have been from the wine. ‘I’m sure he’s just concerned about you. And perhaps he wants to give things another go?’
‘Well, he’s got a funny way of showing it,’ Florence said. ‘I mean, he seems to have got the idea that I’ve been pining away for him on the other side of the party wall, when in actual fact, it’s him who’s been doing that, if what I’m hearing is to be believed.’
‘Oh yes?’ Josie raised an eyebrow as Florence briefly filled her in on the conversation she’d overheard between Tom and Aidan in the garden.
‘Well, there you go, then,’ Josie replied as Florence finished. ‘He’s obviously projecting his issues on to you.’ She shrugged. ‘Or perhaps he’s just got a communication problem.’
‘Well, I won’t be wasting any more time communicating with him about anything from now on,’ Florence, fortified by most of her large glass of Chablis, declared. ‘Indecisive idiots are off the agenda from now on.’
‘He’s got you pretty fired up again, though, hasn’t he?’ Josie said. ‘Are you quite sure you’re as offended as you think you are?’
Florence sighed. ‘No, I guess I’m not, really. I’m frustrated that things ended in a bit of a stalemate, and seeing him this afternoon was a good opportunity to vent some of my irritation on him for that, I suppose. He was an easy target when he came round spouting all that nonsense about me feeling melancholic and emotional.’
‘There you go,’ Josie said stoutly. ‘And he’s obviously missing you, if what Tom and Aidan said is to be believed. Lust-ridden and moping around? How could you resist him?’
Florence smiled, in spite of herself. ‘Quite easily, it seems.’
‘Well, it’s up to you, of course, but what could he say that might actually change your mind?’
‘I just want him to be honest with me, and himself,’ Florence drained her glass and contemplated another one, but she wasn’t sure how long Josie could be out for with the dog as an excuse. ‘I mean, I really think he’s just hiding behind Aidan as a convenient excuse not to commit to anything else. It would be nice to know if that were true or not; how he really feels about the future. Is he ever going to want to settle down and lead a life with me in it?’
‘Then perhaps you should just ask him that,’ Josie said gently. ‘Although, perhaps you don’t want to have to. Perhaps he needs to be the one to tell you without prompting from you?’ She was speaking half to herself now, a faraway look in her eyes.
Florence looked at her, confused. ‘What?’
‘Never mind,’ Josie said hastily. ‘I’m sorry, hon, but I’ve got to get back before Nick sends out a search party. Not for me, mind, but for the dog! She’s the most important female in his life these days, or so I’ve long suspected!’ She picked up Molly’s lead from where she’d looped it under her chair. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow at school for Careers Day?’
‘Sure,’ Florence said, also rising. ‘Let’s hope Sam communicates better with the kids tomorrow than he does with me!’
As she left the pub, she couldn’t help thinking that Josie had terminated that whole conversation suspiciously quickly. Feeling more confused than ever, she wandered back home and tried to get down to a bit more work before school the next day.
47
The Willowbury Academy Careers Day dawned bright and sunny, and as Florence parked her car in her usual spot, the weather felt distinctly at odds with her dark mood. She knew she shouldn’t let it get to her, but, despite what she’d said to Josie when they’d met in the pub, the fact that Sam was going to be on site today was really getting under her skin.
As the school had a relatively small population at the moment, initially all of the staff had mucked in to help arrange the Careers Day, although, blessedly, once she’d passed on Charlie and Sam’s contact details to admin, that had been the end of her involvement in the arrangements. She was due to meet them both ‘officially’ during her break time in the staffroom but hoped that, since she had to escort classes to talks immediately afterwards, their communications would be brief. She was a professional; Sam was a professional: it shouldn’t be an issue.
As the classroom clock edged towards break time, Florence’s stomach fluttered with nerves. She’d had a busy morning, which was about to become busier as she reprimanded a couple of students for chucking pens across the classroom.
‘Jake, Harry, see me at the end,’ she called. She really wasn’t in the mood for her madder Year 8 class this morning. Knowing Sam was going to be somewhere in the building, probably right at this moment, was enough to shorten her fuse.
‘But, Miss, I was just giving him his pen back,’ Jake protested.
Florence silenced him with a glare that Jake seemed to instinctively know meant don’t push your luck, child.
By the time break arrived, she had a couple more students lined up for a chat. Perhaps there was something in the air today, knowing that they were going to be off timetable for the rest of the morning and the first afternoon lesson, taking part in workshops and listening to the speakers, or, more likely, it was that Florence had communicated her poor mood to her classes, which, sadly, could be an occupational hazard no matter how experienced a teacher you were. Either way, she’d ensured that, by the time she’d dealt with the students, there wouldn’t be time for anything else other than a cup of tea and a trip to the loo before the Careers Day took over. As it was, she didn’t even get the cuppa, so was spared the trial of seeing Sam across the crowded staffroom. She felt regretful she didn’t get to say hello to Charlie Thorpe, but there would be time later to touch base and say thank you.
‘So, you’re taking your Year Seven groups to Journalism, Veterinary Science and Medicine, then finishing with Charlie Thorpe and Politics,’ Josie confirmed in passing, from her copy of the itinerary that had been popped into all of their pigeon holes that morning. ‘Unless you want to do a swap and listen to Sam talking about the navy and the air ambulance?’
‘Not likely,’ Florence said mutinously. ‘I could do without that, after our last conversation.’
‘Fair enough,’ Josie squeezed Florence’s arm as they passed. ‘Perhaps that wouldn’t be the best time for a tearful reunion.’
‘Not going to happen,’ Florence snapped, then apologised. ‘Sorry. Not sleeping well again. And I’ve just bollocked five Year Eight students for stepping out of line before break.’
‘Don’t worry about it.’ Josie threw a sympathetic glance back over her shoulder. ‘See you later.’
Settling into her seat in the classroom where the first speaker was giving her presentation a few minutes later, Florence was relieved to find the journalist from the local paper was funny and engaging, and she kept the students entertained as well as informed. She couldn’t help wondering if Sam was faring as well with his group of older students. A part of her wished he’d crash and burn, before she shushed herself for being a cow. No one deserved to dry up in front of a hall of students, no matter how cross she was with them.
As the end of the first talk approached and she prepared to move her students to the next room, she stood up and glanced through the glass classroom wall. A brand-new build, all of the classrooms had glass frontages that faced out into the corridor, designed as a way of passively supervising students in transition from lesson to lesson and at social time. The class next door had already started to move, and she saw Josie striding past as she shepherded them along the corridor.
Just as she was getting her own students in order to leave the room, out of the corner of her eye, she saw a head of dirty blond hair atop a pair of broad shoulders disappearing round the corner and her heart flipped. She was glad she didn’t actually see his face, though, or she’d never have been able to concentrate on getting the students where they needed to go. Glancing at her watch, Florence willed, harder than ever, for this day to be over.
‘Hi,’ a deep, but pleasant voice said as she took her class to the hall, where Charlie Thorpe was preparing to give the keynote address to the Year Nine students. It had been a pleasant day so far, all in all, despite the unsettling feeling of sharing the space with Sam, and as she shook Charlie’s hand, Florence was pleased that the students had behaved brilliantly, too.
‘Hi,’ she replied, smiling at Charlie. ‘Have you had a good day?’
‘Yes thanks,’ Charlie said. ‘The students here have been great, and they’ve asked a lot of really searching questions. Thanks for getting me involved.’
‘My pleasure,’ Florence replied. ‘I’d love to stay and listen to your talk, but Years Seven and Eight are back on timetable for their last lesson, and I’ve got some Shakespeare to teach.’
‘No worries,’ Charlie smiled, and yet again Florence could see exactly why Holly, and the local voters, had fallen for him. He had an easy charm and a sincere manner, and she instinctively wanted to trust him.