Honeycote (44 page)

Eventually the subject turned to Sophie. They’d both felt awful leaving her earlier that evening, but she’d insisted that she was fine. She and Georgina had gone for a sleepover with some other friends from school. Patrick was aware that what had happened between her and Ned at Christmas had been somewhat overlooked. It didn’t help that she was so stoical and had never mentioned it to anyone. They’d all assumed she was tougher than she looked. But Mandy was worried about her.

‘She looks terrible, Patrick. Don’t you think?’

‘Do you reckon she’s anorexic?’

‘I don’t know. She’s not eating enough to keep a bird alive, I know that.’

Patrick was furious. With himself and the rest of his family. They were all so wrapped up in themselves they’d forgotten about poor old Sophie and her misery. What was Lucy thinking about? She was her mother, for heaven’s sake. She was the one who was supposed to be there for her when things went wrong. But Lucy had her own problems. She was exhausted from driving back and forth to the hospital to see Mickey, as well as running the house and looking after the horses.

There was only one cure for Sophie that he could think of. A fifteen-stone goon not a million miles from their own doorstep. He’d caused Sophie’s problems in the first place. He could bloody well solve them. Patrick had enough faith in his friend to know he could do it. As the second hand on his watch raced towards midnight, he resolved to sort out his sister. She deserved to be as happy as he was. The bells rang out midnight and he reached out to stroke Mandy’s cheek. She held his hand against her face. Just touching each other was enough; it was all they needed.

‘Happy New Year,’ said Patrick, and he hoped he spoke for all of them when he said it.

23

A couple of weeks later, after the girls had gone back to school, Patrick was biding his time until he found the perfect opportunity to implement his plan. It arrived one Saturday afternoon. Sophie had gone on from school to see the latest Hugh Grant film with some friends in Cheltenham and Patrick had promised to pick her up. He got on the phone.

‘Ned. Big favour time. There’s no one to collect Sophie from the cinema. Mum’s taken dad to the hospital for physio and I’ve got to sort something out at the brewery. Can you get her for me?’ May God strike him dead for lying, but he was pretty certain it would do the trick.

Ned opened the door of his Mini Cooper and groaned. He couldn’t expect Sophie to travel in it – there was thick mud all over the floors, Jack Russell hairs all over the seats, fag ends spilling out of the ashtray, baler twine, hay, empty Mars Bar wrappers and, most shamefully of all, two blobs of chewing gum stuck to the dash. He attempted a perfunctory valeting, then gave up and compromised by pinching his mother’s best picnic rug and spreading it over the passenger seat. He then gave the interior a thorough squirt with some air freshener and hoped for the best – it was nearly five and Sophie was due out at quarter to six. He gunned off down the drive at top speed, swerving to avoid the potholes like some mad teenager let loose on the dodgems, until he came out on to the main road and turned left.

Patrick, the crafty sod, hadn’t given him any time to think or say no, had just told him it was an emergency. Ned was so used to jumping when his friend said jump it was only now that he realized the full implications of what he was about to do. He and Sophie were going to come face to face for the first time since his dreadful faux pas and he didn’t have a clue what he was going to say, or indeed how she was likely to react. All he knew was that he was being thrown in at the deep end and that he cared very, very much what the outcome was. He didn’t want to blow it. He lit a fag to calm his nerves, then remembered that Sophie got car sick and chucked it out the window.

He arrived at the cinema and searched through the crowds for any sign of her. He didn’t want her to think she’d been abandoned. She was just coming through the swing door and at first Ned didn’t recognize her. She had on a pair of jeans and a bright pink cotton knit sweater that barely covered her midriff. Her skin seemed almost blue; her eyes were huge and hollow with dark rings underneath. She stopped dead when she saw Ned. He smiled as widely as his nerves would allow him.

‘Patrick asked me to pick you up.’

‘Oh.’

She looked like a startled woodland creature about to bound off into the undergrowth. Ned screwed up all his courage and walked towards her.

‘Soph – I’ve been dying to speak to you for ages. There’s so much I want to say – but I don’t know what to say…’

He faltered. Sophie said nothing, either to discourage or encourage him. But at least she hadn’t run away, so he ploughed on.

‘I need to explain about…’ He couldn’t quite bring himself to say lovebite, but he knew she knew what he meant. ‘When I saw you at the dance you seemed so out of reach. I didn’t think I had a hope in hell. I thought you’d grown out of me. And I was gutted. The bottom line is I got totally out of it and shagged Mayday. I should never have done it, I know that, but I’m a bloke. A stupid bloke at that. And I know everyone probably says it when they get caught out, but it didn’t mean anything.’

Sophie looked as if she had half a mind to run away, but she didn’t seem to have the strength. Ned walked over and gently took her bag off her. He put it on the floor and put his hands on her shoulders. She trembled at his touch. He pulled her to him – it was now or never. After all, he’d got nothing to lose.

‘I’ve been a total plonker. All I can say is I’m sorry. And I want you to forgive me. Because…’ Ned took in a huge breath. He’d never said this before to anyone in his life. ‘I love you.’

There was a moment when she tensed, as if ready to take flight, but then she relaxed, fell against his chest in submission, capitulation, and wrapped her arms round his waist. She didn’t need to say anything. Her actions spoke louder than any words of forgiveness.

Ned wrapped his huge arms round her and squeezed her tight. He could feel her ribs, her shoulder blades, through her sweater, as undernourished as an orphaned lamb who wouldn’t feed and who Ned knew from experience would finally give up the fight for life and perish. He wasn’t going to let her go the same way. He was going to build her up, get the roses back in her cheeks and the light back in her eyes.

They stood that way for some moments, Ned grinning his silly head off, bursting with love and pride. Sophie finally lifted her head from his shoulder and looked at him shyly. She was smiling too.

Ten minutes later, Ned swung into a pub car park.

He sat down and ordered sausage and mash for both of them. Sophie protested that she wanted a salad, but he put his foot down.

‘You need to put some weight back on. You look dreadful. Like a bag of bones.’

Sophie was shocked. The only good thing that had happened lately was that she had got down to under nine stone and was practically a size ten.

‘I’m serious,’ Ned continued. ‘It doesn’t suit you. You look ill. I want the old Sophie back – ’

‘You mean the fat one – ’

‘You weren’t fat. You were just right. Cuddly. Men like something to get hold of. At least I do. If I gave you a hug right now, you’d snap.’

Sophie stared at him with big-eyes.

‘Try it.’

‘What?’

‘Try it. Hug me. I won’t snap, I promise.’

Ned didn’t need any excuse. He scooped her up for the tenth time in half an hour and she nestled in to him. Ned had ignited a little warm glow inside her that was gradually thawing out the frozen feeling she’d had for the past few weeks, since Christmas Day, since her father’s accident. She found she no longer craved the empty hollowness she had been focusing on lately. Denying herself food had given her something to think about, had stopped her from brooding on her problems, and she’d revelled in her weight loss. But now she realized she was just starving hungry. She devoured her sausage and mash. And when the barmaid came to clear their plates and asked if they’d like dessert, she ordered bread and butter pudding. Ned smothered it with cream when it arrived, and she protested out of habit. But she was laughing while he spooned it into her mouth, pretending to force-feed her like a reluctant child, and he knew things hadn’t gone too far, that she hadn’t toppled over the edge. He’d come to her rescue just in time.

James had popped into Budgens for some unsalted butter and a pot of Greek yoghurt when he saw Georgina filling up a trolley. He went to greet his niece.

‘Georgie.’

‘Hi, James.’ She carried on filling up the trolley. She seemed subdued, not herself at all.

‘Is everything OK?’

‘No, it bloody isn’t.’

James flinched. Georgina was known for being blunt, but she wasn’t usually rude.

‘What is it?’

To his horror, she burst into tears in the middle of the aisle. Noisy, childish sobs that drew attention to both of them.

‘Georgie – for heaven’s sake…’

‘It’s awful at home. Mum and dad aren’t speaking. It’s horrible. Mum just makes bitchy remarks and dad just sits there. And mum can’t even be bothered to do the shopping. I got back from school at lunchtime and there was nothing to eat. I had to get Patrick to bring me here – ’

She snivelled into his chest. James did his best to comfort her.

‘Listen, Georgie. It’s been a shock for everyone. I expect your dad’s a bit depressed after his accident. And it’s been a strain for your mum.’

‘She doesn’t care about dad. I can tell.’

‘Of course she does.’

‘I’m going to ask if I can board. Then I won’t have to sit there while they snipe at each other.’

James pressed his lips together. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. Georgina had her GCSEs in a few months’ time. She needed love and support, not the breakdown of her family unit. He wiped her tears, helped her get her shopping together and pack it into the back of the Defender, then waited for Patrick to come back. He spoke to his nephew
sotto voce.

‘I gather things are pretty grim chez vous?’ Patrick shrugged.

‘I’m out most of the time, to be honest. Or working. But it’s not good, no.’

James said nothing, just patted Patrick on the shoulder as he got into the car.

James waited till Patrick had driven off, then phoned Honeycote on his mobile. Luckily for him Lucy answered.

‘We need to speak. Now.’

‘I’m about to cook supper.’

‘No, you’re not. I’ve just found Georgina in Budgens doing the bloody weekly shop, Lucy. Meet me at home in ten minutes.’

He hung up before Lucy could contradict. She stared at the receiver, her stomach churning. She’d deliberately avoided James since Mickey’s accident. They’d come into contact with other people around, of course, but she hadn’t come face to face with him to discuss what had gone on between them. She couldn’t put it off any longer.

She had a feeling that whatever happened next, it was going to be a turning point. It filled her with a mixture of dread and relief. She knew things couldn’t carry on the way they had been. She wasn’t herself at all. She had no interest in anything; she could barely manage to get a meal on the table, and if it hadn’t been for the children she wouldn’t even have managed that. She just couldn’t be bothered, and although she did next to nothing she felt tired all the time. And what was worst was that she was snappy, not just with Mickey, who deserved it, but with everyone, as if she had permanent PMT. And every time she heard herself snipe, she shrivelled up inside. She couldn’t live with herself like this for the rest of her life, but she wasn’t sure how to move on. She hurried out to her car, without telling Mickey where she was going.

James didn’t even bother to offer Lucy a drink. He wanted to get straight on with what he had to say.

‘For God’s sake, Lucy. You’ve got to sort yourself out. Your whole family’s being affected. Georgina was practically having a nervous breakdown in Budgens. She’ll flunk her exams at this rate. You’ve got to snap out of it. There’s no point in everyone wallowing in misery. Either make it up with Mickey and bloody well be happy. Or come and live with me.’

‘You can’t give me an ultimatum like that.’

‘Of course I can.’

‘It’s none of your business.’

‘Yes, it is. Because I love you, Lucy – ’

Lucy put her hands up as if to fend him off.

‘Please, James. I can’t take emotional blackmail on top of everything else.’

‘Hang on a minute. I haven’t finished yet. I love you, but I also love Patrick and Sophie and Georgina. And, dare I say it, Mickey. But it’s up to you, Lucy. You’re the only one who can decide which way it’s going to go. I know I’m forcing you into a corner, but there’s too much at stake to sit there and watch while everyone’s happiness goes down the plughole. You’ve got to make a decision.’

It was the most impassioned speech James had ever made in his life, and he had to hold his hands behind his back to stop them shaking. He looked at Lucy. She looked back at him defiantly.

‘So it’s you or Mickey? That’s what you’re saying?’

‘I suppose so.’

Lucy contemplated going to live with James for a moment. She counted up the people it would affect if she did. Mickey, Sophie, Patrick, Georgina… And she didn’t even know if she’d be happy with him. It would be a huge risk.

Whereas she thought she could be happy again with Mickey. She had been for twenty years, after all. She was just going to have to bite the bullet and forgive him. Move on. James was right. There was no point in everyone suffering. And she certainly couldn’t go on with things the way they were. Life was dreary; a grinding emotional tedium that set her teeth on edge. The atmosphere in the house of late had been so oppressive that she couldn’t even face guests; she couldn’t be bothered to put on a brave face. She woke each day with a dull ache in her heart and went to bed at night desperate for sleep, her only escape. She didn’t suppose it was any different for Mickey.

James clenched his fists while she turned things over in her mind, battling with himself to keep his distance. If he touched her, he’d be lost. Every inch of him wanted to sink to his knees in front of her and beg. Finally she turned to him with a sigh.