‘You sure?’ She glanced at him again.
He shrugged. ‘Where did you have in mind?’
‘I was thinking of you,’ she said. ‘You’re the one’s been staring at the same four walls for weeks.’
There was a fragility to her voice. The endless rounds of phone calls, e-mails and social media posts after last week’s hearing must be getting to her.
‘Honestly, no need to worry about me,’ he said. ‘Now I’ve got my hand free, I’ll be able to work on the caravan again. Can’t wait to get stuck in.’
‘Apart from the fracking hearing, you haven’t been anywhere for ages.’
He turned and stared at her. ‘What’s the big deal? I haven’t been particularly mobile, in case you hadn’t noticed.’
‘Don’t get sarcastic.’
‘I hope you don’t think…there’s anything more to it than that.’
‘What makes you say that?’ She still had that brittle edge to her voice.
‘Same thing as makes you turn staying at home for a while into an accusation.’
She sighed. He was relieved to get back to Alderleat, the sun shining in welcome. Having his arm free meant that it was easier to manoeuvre out of the car and into the wheelchair, and he felt life was beginning to look up.
He suggested they make the most of the nice weather and, as they’d taken to doing, they went to sit out on the terrace by the mill stream. While Elin went indoors to make tea, he braced himself gingerly on the arms of the wheelchair, feeling a slight, possibly imagined tug at the point of the healed fracture. He levered himself up and hopped a couple of steps to sit on the garden bench. Elin came out and sank down beside him. As he placed his left arm around her and hugged her to him, the sense of reborn equality was intoxicating.
She raised a hand to his, encircling his fingers loosely in a kind of reunion. They sat for a few moments watching the water in the leat flicker past.
‘I’ve been meaning to tell you,’ Bede said. ‘You know when Silvan was here yesterday?’
‘Reality calling.’ She sighed. ‘What – did he finally give you some nugget of inside info on Northcote’s appeal?’
Bede laughed briefly. ‘He’s hardly lived up to that promise, has he? No, the opposite. He’s been given his notice.’
Officially, Northcote said he was over-staffed, but Silvan was convinced his employer had become suspicious of his growing friendship with Bede and Elin.
‘I suppose I sympathise.’ She stroked the soft V between his thumb and forefinger as if sending healing waves through the skin.
‘It’s not just his job,’ Bede said. ‘He lives in the keepers’ accommodation in the village, doesn’t he? He’ll have to move out and he…he was wondering if we could help out. You know, let him crash at ours for a while, maybe put in a word for him at the Storehouse. Or even find some work for him with us – not paid, but, you know, pitching in for food and lodging.’
‘No way!’ He’d been sensing a growing atmosphere between them, but her vehemence surprised him. ‘I’m sorry, but he’s far too unreliable – for us, let alone to recommend to the shop collective. He’s done enough skiving that we know of. I wouldn’t wish it on him, but I’m not surprised he’s got the sack. I bet Northcote’s been waiting for an excuse.’
He had to admit she had a point. ‘What about putting him up for a bit, though?’
‘You’re joking. He’d suffocate us.’
‘We were all right with communal living at Calsthorpe.’
‘That was never our permanent home. We stayed there for periods at a time.’
‘Until we got married and moved in with Joe.’ He’d sometimes sensed her desire for their own space – one of the reasons he’d found it hard to open up to her about grieving, but now a possible way of talking her round.
‘There’s no comparison. Joe was family. And he had a decent sense of personal space.’ That surprised him. ‘Whereas Silvan…’
Her reaction was stronger than he’d feared. ‘He needn’t be in the house. He suggested he’d help us finish the caravan, then maybe… You know… It’s stood there sad and unfinished for weeks now, and it’d be a way—’
‘That’s supposed to be for visitors – income, Bede – and for us. You said he could live there?’
‘No, I said I’d have to ask you first.’
‘First? Jesus, that implies there’s a “second”. That it might happen.’
‘What was I supposed to say? I thought it’d give me – us – time to think.’
‘The chance to make it all my fault when we refuse.’
‘Don’t be daft.’
‘I mean it. He seems to have this image of me as a nagging “’er indoors”. Don’t try and deny it. I’m sure he even thinks I’m siding with Kate to turn Tamsin against him.’
He was almost glad they were having this conversation; she obviously needed the release valve. ‘You’re overreacting, love.’
‘Maybe it’s something to do with the lack of support I get from you.’
His first reaction was to defend himself, but her expression made him pause.
‘I thought things were getting better,’ she continued. ‘I understand what you’ve been through and it’s been heartwarming to see you wanting to do things again. But whenever he’s here you simply don’t get off your arse. Like yesterday, I’m out at the shop and the Fields till late and I get home to find you couldn’t even heat a pan of chili. I’d left it all ready; you knew what time I’d be back. Not much to ask, was it? You should’ve seen the contempt on both your faces when I mentioned it.’
‘I never—’
‘“Hey, hey, chill, woman. Give the guy a break. He’s still convalescing.” And you, sitting there trying not to laugh.’
‘I didn’t mean…’
She sighed. ‘I’m sure you didn’t. You’re just not yourself when you’re with him.’
He folded his arms, trying his damnedest not to feel guilty, but failing miserably. ‘Is that what you think?’
‘I don’t think, I see.’
She turned away from him, staring into the ripples of the leat, her eyes bright. The welling tears pierced him. I thought things were getting better. So had he. And they were. He refused to admit he was that easily led – he’d never mock or criticise her like that – but if it was the impression she was getting, he was prepared to concede. For her sake. For both their sakes.
Once again he enclosed her fingers with his newly liberated hand.
‘Don’t worry, I’ll tell him,’ he said.
Her smile was like the sun after a storm. He had no idea what he was going to say, but if he and Elin needed time together, he’d do anything to make sure they got it.
The escapism of believing
‘I’m off to the caravan to do some plank-nailing,’ Elin said.
‘Nice word, that: planknailing.’ Bede had to say something to stop the wrong words escaping: yes, we agreed, but please stay, give me some moral support…
‘Do you want a hand?’ Silvan had arrived as if on cue shortly after they finished their dinner.
‘I’m fine, thanks,’ Elin said. ‘I think my good man wants a word with you in any case.’
The good man shot her an imploring look. ‘Don’t you—?’
‘See you later, guys.’
She waggled her fingers and slipped her feet into her boots. He noticed the laces flapping and imagined her getting a safe distance across the yard before stopping to tie them. Kip followed her out.
Thanks, mate, he sent out to the dog. You’re on your own, Sherwell.
He told himself he was making a mountain out of a molehill. Silvan would probably just laugh it off, pack his stuff and head off back to Birmingham or Oswestry or wherever it was he’d come from. But no. Bede was pretty sure it wouldn’t be so easy. Why feel bad about it? He wasn’t their personal responsibility. Tamsin wouldn’t like it if he had to leave, but that wasn’t their problem, either.
He looked up. Silvan caug
ht his eye, waiting. As if he knew every thought that was going through Bede’s mind.
‘Fancy a beer?’ Bede said. Why? Why say that?
‘Is there something to celebrate?’
Bede raised his left hand like a trophy. ‘It’ll be a while yet before I’m arm-wrestling, but you could say part-way to freedom.’
Or you could call it vulnerable. Like a snail without its shell.
Silvan waved away his attempt to get to his feet, fetched two bottles of Elin’s beer from the crate, glasses from the cupboard and poured. He savoured the first mouthful. ‘Is she as good at putting a wall together as she is at brewing this?’
Bede nodded as he tried to think how to begin.
‘Message received and understood,’ Silvan said.
‘What message?’
‘Here’s to the happy little nuclear family.’ He raised his glass, waited for Bede to pick his up and when he didn’t, clinked the untouched glass where it sat. ‘Though I suppose being anti-nuclear goes with the territory.’ He laughed briefly.
‘I said, what message? What territory?’
Narrowed eyes regarded him steadily: you know perfectly well on both counts. And I know that you know… Layers of knowing like the infinity of mutually reflecting mirrors.
‘The territory of a certain set of ideals,’ Silvan said. ‘But literally, too. Territorial. Not that I blame you. People are. Forgive me for assuming you were different. You know, for a while, I even thought she was different. “Sharing a set of ideals makes us all part of one big family…”’
He’d caught her Welsh accent perfectly, but Bede didn’t recall either of them saying anything of the sort.
‘I get it,’ Silvan continued. ‘I get why you let her stalk off when she’s obviously knackered and carpentry’s the last thing she wants to be doing. To prove you don’t need my help. No help, no digs. Yeah, I’ll save you the trouble: message understood.’
He picked up his glass and drank. Bede watched, unwilling to admit Silvan was right, unable to put into words how he felt.
‘So, come on, why do you find it so difficult to say “sorry mate, no can do”? Does the thought of refusing a friend in need make you feel uncomfortable?’ He ticked off a finger. ‘No need to worry. I’m not really in need.’ He leaned forward. ‘Is it because you’re torn between what you’d have done yourself and pleasing her?’ Another finger folded down. ‘A word of advice: open your eyes, stand your ground.’
Silvan’s eyes came to rest on a sheet of Sunny Days headed paper lying on the pile of envelopes on the table. Bede noticed how a splash of beer had stained it.
‘But I can see why you keep putting her first. I understand here,’ Silvan tapped his head, ‘and one day I may know from experience what it’s like to be that much in love.’ Staring at Bede, he flicked all his fingers open. ‘No, I think the main reason you find it hard to refuse me is because it makes you realise you’re just the same as anyone else. You’re not different. Saving the world – your little part of it – doesn’t make you special. Oh, we all need to work together, see the bigger picture, refuse to be blinded by individual greed – until it comes to our own little space. And that’s the one I can’t help you with, Bede. You’ll have to work it out for yourself.’
He got up slowly, went over to the crate and returned with another bottle. Looking steadily at Bede’s still untouched glass, he removed the crown cork with a tiny fizz and drank straight from the bottle, stirring up sediment to cloud the beer. Bede felt like smashing it from his hand.
‘Go on, say something. Unleash the legendary Sherwell anger.’
Bede folded his arms across his chest. It felt good to be able to.
‘Thanks for the psych session,’ he said with deliberate calm. ‘You know what? I can’t be arsed arguing with you. I’ll just leave it at thanking you for making this easy.’ He half-smiled. ‘I was dithering, you know. Yes, Bede Sherwell does sometimes dither. When you came in just now, I was almost hooked by that air of who-cares, letting-go, that you do so well. It’s buoyed me up recently and I like it, I won’t deny it. So there I was, questioning our decision. Almost beginning to wonder how – if it came to it – how to tell Elin I’d relented and you’d be moving in after all. But you’ve saved me the trouble. Thanks.’
Their eyes met. He could read nothing in Silvan’s.
‘Tell me one thing before you go.’ He placed a subtle emphasis on go. ‘What’s all this about? You cheered me up when I was stuck in the house, but I can’t help feeling you don’t particularly like us. Looking back, I’ve caught the occasional whiff of antagonism from the moment we met. So come on, why’ve you been hanging round this achingly normal, deluded pair of smug bastards? Why want to fucking move in with them?’
Silvan drained the bottle, then slowly rose to his feet. Without taking his eyes from Bede’s, he walked to the door, put the bottle in the empties crate and paused, hand on the latch.
‘You really have no idea, have you?’
The moment he left, Bede picked up his beer glass and drained it, a trickle escaping, dribbling past his chin to the shirt he’d put on clean for the hospital appointment that morning. He brushed at the stain in irritation. No idea! What idea did he have? Did he know what it was like to find a home, a woman you loved to the ends of the earth, a place to feel secure? Somewhere you could withdraw from battles and guilt and just live life the way you thought was right, immersed in nature, away from the destructions of the twenty-first century world. Not selfish. Didn’t everyone need their space?
He looked up at a movement through the window pane. Hadn’t he gone yet? Elin was coming back from the caravan. She’d soon give Silvan short shrift and they could be alone to talk it through. The argument had unsettled him more than he cared to admit and he needed to put his mind at rest.
Bede turned to the table and lined up the glasses and bottles. He neatened the pile of bills, removing the stained, wasted Sunny Days paper to rip in half as a scribble sheet for the phone. Open your eyes. He closed them, saw the scene at this very table. Wasn’t it the night Northcote’s car had been scratched? All that fuss. But had it really been enough fuss to drive away the memory of an awkward falling-silent, a brief conspiratorial glance, the slight flush of a cheek? Only to resurface now, so long after the event that he could be imagining it.
Through the window he saw Elin cross the yard. Talking to Silvan, standing too close. A furtive glance toward the house. On the opposite wall, he noticed how the glass of the picture frame superimposed the image of the window onto their wedding photo, a reflected shadow of himself, now, in between. Layers of knowing. You really have no idea, have you?
Elin removed her drizzle-damp sweatshirt together with the lingering tingle of the unwanted hug. ‘Music Night on Wednesday? Perhaps we can play together one last time.’ As if they were close friends about to part forever. Bloody drama queen. She called to Bede and went upstairs to get a dry jumper.
‘Fair-weather DIYer,’ he said with a smile on her return. ‘You didn’t last long.’
She flopped down beside him, rested her head on his shoulder.
‘To be honest, Bede, I didn’t get started. I was shattered. I sorted through the materials, then found myself just looking at it all, energy sapped. I hope you don’t think I’m a hypocrite.’
He ran his hand over her hair and rested it on her shoulder.
‘I don’t think anything. We’ll get it done. When we’re ready.’
‘So, what did he say?’ She sensed him draw back slightly. After Silvan’s hushed comments about Bede behaving strangely, she wondered what to expect.
‘Oh, he wasn’t exactly thrilled. It was a conversation I’d rather not have had.’
‘I wonder if he’ll move away? It’d be a shame to lose touch completely.’
He looked at her, expression unreadable. ‘Would it?’
‘Well…maybe not.’ She slouched against him and closed her eyes. She’d had more than enough of Silvan for one evenin
g. ‘Fran called today.’
‘Oh?’
‘Said she was pleased about the outcome of our hearing. As cynical as we are about the next stage.’ Elin sat up straight. ‘Listen, Bede, she asked again whether we’d go and give them our support.’
‘Support? We’ve sent them all the research we’ve found – all that’s not specific to our local area. I’ve written letters and signed petitions till my fingers hurt. You told her last time that we weren’t going.’
‘She wondered if I’d managed to persuade you.’
Bede sighed, rolled his eyes. ‘Haven’t we been talking about keeping some time and space for ourselves?’
‘It would be a few days. Hardly the same as getting a full-time lodger.’ He remained impassive. ‘Won’t you—’
‘Come off it,’ he snapped, the harshness of his voice causing Kip to look up. ‘We’ve talked about this one often enough. Whether it’s Lancashire or even our own doorstep, you know what I feel, deep down. Saving the world? Really? Think we can?’
She was taken aback by his anger. ‘Of course I—’
‘It’s the human race needs saving! The world will keep turning long after we’ve pushed ourselves to extinction!’
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