A Place in the Country (13 page)

Her own bed had been delivered, but she had to put her lamp on the floor because she didn't yet have a nightstand, and had to hang her clothes on a rack until she could afford built-ins. She piled her books next to the bed, put her stuff in the bathroom, admired her newly installed and very expensive Jacuzzi tub, then called the store about Issy's bed which they told her would be delivered the next day for sure. She paid off the students, who shook her hand then kissed her anyway, just for the fun of it, then Georgki said he was taking her to Pangbourne for dinner, so she tidied herself up as best she could, called Maggie, said all was well and she would be home later. “Home” still meant the pub, and she called Issy and left a message saying she wouldn't be needing her help that evening after all.

Then, even though she didn't feel like it, she got in the Land Rover and followed Georgki along the twisting country roads to Pangbourne.

He was right, the pub was directly on a big swathe of the River Thames where it sloshed noisily over a weir. There were swans, and though the place was crowded it was a lovely evening and they found a free table outside. Georgki held her chair, like the gentleman he was, and she sank gratefully into it. It had been a long day. She thought it might also have been one of the best days of her life. She had her own home, and her new place of business. And best of all, Issy might even be coming around to the idea.

Georgki emerged from the pub, carrying two foaming beers. “Wine after,” he said, settling comfortably opposite. “Now, you need to cool off.”

Caroline grinned at him. “You mean I look hot and exhausted?”

He gazed at her with such deep affection, she was touched. She reached out and took his hand. “You'll always be my friend,” she said. “You know that, don't you?”

He nodded. “I know that.”

She held her breath hoping he was not going to declare his love; not right now,
please,
she prayed, but instead he clinked his glass with hers, “Good luck, Caroline,” he said, then tilted back his head and drained the beer in one long swallow.

“Did you even taste it?” she marveled.

“It is the sensation, not just the taste. All that cold bubbling, is wonderful.”

He was so simple and so nice and easy to be with, somehow it put her problems in perspective. Sitting there in the evening sunshine she remembered driving through Oxfordshire on that rainy cold evening with Issy slumped next to her, wanting to be anywhere else but there. She remembered stepping through the Star & Plough's door and Maggie taking them in, like the wet huddled sheep they had seen in the meadows.

“You've come a long way,” Georgki said, as the waitress arrived with plastic baskets of chicken and chips.

It was true. Now, she could get on with her life. She had her place in the country. She was finally home.

 

chapter 28

The following night,
in the bar with Maggie she said she wanted to spend the night, alone, at the barn. “A test run,” she said, “just to see how it feels.”

Maggie put down her glass and gave her a long searching look. Folding her arms, she said, “You're having second thoughts.”

Caroline hesitated. “Not
exactly
…”

“Then exactly—
what
?”

Caroline gave her an under-the-lashes-indirect look that said she was worried.

“Afraid you'll be lonely, out there?” Maggie asked. “Alone?”

“It's the ‘alone,'” she admitted. “I mean, Mags, Issy still doesn't really want to come, and now I'm thinking how much I'm going to miss you all, here, at the pub. You know what I mean…”

“It's like leaving home the first time.” Maggie understood.

“There's always so much going on here, the work and the company, the customers, and Winter-White Sarah and Little Billy…”

“Don't forget Clumsy Lily.”

“How could I possibly?”

They laughed and Maggie opened a bottle of Italian red and poured each of them a glass. “We're going to drink a toast to your barn,” she said. “To your new home. To Issy's new home—she'll come round, eventually, I know she will. And to your future restaurant, when you'll be so rushed off your feet you'll wonder why you didn't just stay here and work for us anyway.”

“I know,” Caroline admitted, but still, she was filled with doubts. The barn was only a couple of miles away and she would continue working at the pub until she got her restaurant organized, but she was suddenly—and quite terribly—lonely.

“You should call your mom and dad,” Maggie said. “Ask them to come and stay with you for a bit.”

“But I don't have a guest room.”

“Then let them stay in Issy's room, she's not going to be there any time soon.”

Caroline thought of all the explanations she would need to make to her parents, about why Issy wasn't living with her, and she knew that would mean they would want to talk more about James. Who she hadn't heard from in weeks, nor had he sent any money.

Then the pub doors pushed open and a slew of Oxford's finest strode up to the bar. Before she knew it, she was back behind the Aga, and Sarah had sent word Little Billy had a cough so she wasn't going to be in that night, and Lily couldn't make it either, so Caroline and Maggie had to tackle it alone.

By ten thirty she was exhausted. The girls had gone to bed long before. Maggie told her she would drive them to school the following morning so Caroline threw on her coat, said goodnight and walked round the corner and got into her car.

It was raining. Again. And the wipers were sluggish. It was like driving in a mist. She chugged slowly along, thanking God there was no traffic and telling herself she would have to take the car in tomorrow and get it fixed. She drove even slower as she passed the gates to the Thompson Manor house. No lights showed. She had not heard from Jim since he'd left, not so much as a phone call. She shrugged. So much for that little episode. Out-of-sight-out-of-mind was true in this case.

She turned into her own drive, hearing the satisfying crunch of the new gravel deposited and raked by her just yesterday. At least she wouldn't step ankle-deep into mud this time. She pulled up in front of the barn doors.

And then she saw the car.

It was parked off to the side, and there was a man standing there, smoking a cigarette. Its tip glowed in the dark, then arced as it was tossed to the ground and stamped out.

Frozen with fear, Caroline saw him walk toward her. Then she came to her senses, turned on the engine, slammed into reverse …

“Caroline!”

She
knew
that voice. She took her foot off the gas, jerked to a stop, turned to look.

It was her ex-husband. James.

 

chapter 29

She felt him
watching as she got out of the car. She slammed the door and waited, not trusting her legs to get her as far as her own front door. Her hands shook and she dropped the car keys.

“
Caroline!
” he said again.

She told herself to get over the shock, get her wits together, tell him to leave. What was he doing here, anyway? She hadn't heard a word from him in months, and now here he was, on her doorstep, soaked from standing out in the rain. His brown hair was plastered to his head, hands thrust in the pockets of his jacket, not even a raincoat … though there was a suitcase.

He walked toward her and instinctively she flattened herself against the side of the Land Rover.

He stopped in his tracks, shocked. He said, “You surely don't think I would hurt you?”

The sound of his voice sent shock waves through her. The rain was pelting down, her hair hung in strings and she could not even see him because her glasses were wet. She said, “What are you doing here, James?”

He said, “You're the only one I can talk to. Only you will believe me…”

She thought about Issy; James was her father, she couldn't just turn him away. “Better come in out of the rain,” she said, gathering herself together and picking up her keys, hurrying past him to the door, which she unlocked and left open for him to follow.

She switched on the lamp and turned to look at him.

“What the hell are you doing here anyway?”. “And what's with the suitcase? If you think you're moving back in with me, you can think again.”

She had never heard her own voice sound like this, thick and ugly, a mixture of dead emotions and new ones; a result of all the things she had gone through; the struggles, the rejection, the humiliation.

“I know what's going through your mind.” He put down his suitcase and stood under the light in the hall, looking at her.

Water puddled on the flagstones round his feet. She saw he was wearing sneakers and that his wet jeans clung to his thighs and his jacket was soaked. But his face was James's face, the face of the man she had fallen in love with, all those years ago in the Raffles bar.

She got that old feeling in the pit of her stomach and told herself quickly to stop. It wasn't right; he should not be here. “Better get out of those wet things,” she said. “Come with me.”

He followed her up the twisting stairs. She could feel the heat of his gaze on her even with her back to him. She spun round.

“Caroline, I need you,” he said as their eyes met.

Not so long ago, she would have melted into his arms if he'd said he needed her. Now, though, she ignored what he'd said, merely handing him a fresh towel. She pointed him to a bathroom, went to her room, got quickly out of her own wet coat and into the old gray sweatpants and the red sweater. She definitely wasn't dressing up for any ex-husband, not even if he'd come here to beg on his knees …

She put chicken soup on the Aga to heat, opened a bottle of wine—the good red she had meant to save for a special occasion. Was
this
a special occasion?
Why
was he here? Her hand shook. What was she
thinking
? What was she
doing
? What, anyway, did James
want
? Could he seriously think he was coming home again? To
her
?

She thought of how overjoyed Issy would be if she knew her father had come back. His return might solve their differences; she would no longer be blamed for the split-up. Anyhow, how had he known where to find her? Mark, she guessed.

She heard his footsteps and turned to look. He was walking toward her, wearing only a towel.
God, she knew that body, lean but muscled, browned from the sun … he seemed bigger than she remembered though; taller, towering over her as he came closer. Obviously he worked out.

She turned quickly away, busied herself at the stove. “Still playing racquetball?” she asked. It was James's favorite sport, fast, immediate, and a little dangerous. Exactly like the man. “Better get some clothes on,” she added, briskly.

She heard him pick up his suitcase and walk away. She hung his wet shirt and jeans on the Aga rail to dry, shook out his jacket and put it on the back of a chair then stood it next to the stove. She wiped off his sneakers and set them to dry too. She was acting like the wife again. Picking up after him.

She put two bowls on the table, got the pot of hot soup from the Aga and stood it on an iron trivet, found a ladle, poured red wine into two glasses. Yesterday's baguette would have to do. Butter, salt, pepper. She told herself she had to stop this welcome committee thing she was doing …

He came back in a clean white shirt and chinos, still barefoot, his wet hair neatly combed. She indicated the seat opposite, ladled out the chicken soup, tore chunks off the baguette and put it in a basket. Then she sat down and looked across the table at her ex-husband.

He took a sip of wine then said, “Caroline, I need you. Only you will believe me.”

It was the second time tonight he'd said that. “Oh?” she said. “And here I was thinking perhaps you had come to see how your daughter was doing? Her so far from home, and almost, I might add, without her father's support.” She glared at him.

“Remember the night we met?” He changed the subject back to her. “You in your short skirt and your glasses? How I loved you, Caroline.” He reached across the table for her hand. “I was a man who thought he could have it all. And now I've found out no one can.”

His touch sent tremors through her. She pulled away, took a sip of the wine, then a gulp. She topped up his glass, telling herself he couldn't just walk in here, into her home, waltz back into her life as though he had the right.

This man had dumped her, he had told her he didn't care anymore; he'd blackmailed her over Issy's custody. She remembered Gayle Lee saying that James “belonged” to her and always would and that she'd better not interfere …

“I'm in trouble,” James said, sitting back and looking seriously at her.

“Then why not ask Miss Chen to get you out of it?”

She was hurting … James was so much a part of her life, so much of her past was with him, why didn't she simply say it's okay, don't worry, we'll be all right, you and me together again …

“I'm being accused of stealing,” he said.

“Are you serious?” she asked, shocked. “
You
?
Stealing
?”

“I'm being accused of taking money meant to be invested. A kind of Ponzi scam. Some of that money has been traced to my personal accounts in Hong Kong and Singapore.”

He got up and began to pace back and forth in front of the Aga, where his jeans and shirt still steamed gently. He came over and put a hand on her shoulder. “I came here to tell you first, before it hits the news, which it soon will. I needed you and Issy to know—to
believe
—I did not do this. Then I'll go back to Hong Kong and try to work it out.”

Caroline remembered Mark telling her there was something strange going on in the business, money missing, James not always where he said he would be.