The Nothing Girl (23 page)

‘
That’s right. You have to let me go.
’

I tightened my grip. ‘I won’t.’

‘
Jenny, I have to go. They’re very close. Someone once released me so I could come to you. Now it’s your turn.
’

I didn’t want to, but I couldn’t disappoint him. Not now. Not at the very end. I lowered my arms and stepped back. He dropped his head and nuzzled my hair. I smelled warm ginger biscuits for the last time. No words would come.

‘
Jenny …?
’

I closed my eyes and said the words that would send him away.

‘I release you.’

‘
Farewell, Jenny, my dear friend.
’

‘Goodbye Thomas. Don’t forget me.’

‘
Never.’

His voice was just a sigh.

He was fading. I could see the outline of the wardrobe behind him.

He disappeared.

The ginger biscuit smell lingered a little longer and then that too was gone.

I thought my world had ended.

Russell tapped on the door. Then again, a little harder. Then gave it a good thump.

‘Jenny? I know you’re in there. Can I come in?’

I waited for Thomas to say something. A silence that was never going to be broken dragged on.

The door opened slowly. ‘Jenny?’

This was not going to be a good day for speaking.

He swiftly crossed the room. ‘What’s happened?’

It wasn’t until he put his arm around me and made me stop that I realised I was sitting, knees drawn up, rocking backwards and forwards. Classic grief and shock.

He must have seen he’d get nothing from me. He crossed to the door and shouted for Mrs Crisp and the next thing I was covered in a blanket and clutching a glass with a small amount of brandy in the bottom.

Voices came and went, but not the voice I so wanted to hear. I tuned them all out and spent some time not thinking of anything at all. When I finally returned to this world, unsure where I’d been, it was nearly dark. Russell was sitting by the bed.

I watched him for a while, still for once, rumpled and shadowed. And more vulnerable than he knew. Even as I looked he opened his eyes. His hands were nearly as cold as mine. I tried for a smile, but not today.

‘Do you need a doctor?’

I moved my head slightly. No.

He took a breath. ‘Shall I fetch your aunt?’

No.

‘Tanya?’

No. the one person in all the world I really wanted to see was never coming back. Ever. I closed my eyes and hot tears ran down my cheeks. I felt him sit on the bed and put his arms around me.

‘That’s my girl. Have a good cry.’

So I did. I cried for Thomas, for the parents I’d barely known, for the mess I’d made of my life, for loneliness, for pretty well everything.

He stroked and soothed and spoke to me using his Boxer voice. He made me blow my nose. And again. He held the mug while I sipped some tea and didn’t shout when I fell asleep before finishing.

When I awoke it was the next day and he was still there, more untidy and tired-looking than ever. Mrs Crisp was bringing tea. That was what had woken me. I wondered why everyone was in my room, looked over at the empty corner, remembered and felt myself begin to slide away again. Away from the long, lonely, frightening life ahead of me.

‘Open your eyes, sweetheart. There’s some tea here.’

I sipped obediently.

‘Well done.’ He wiped my face. ‘How are you feeling?’

I nodded.

And that was the end of Mr Nice Guy.

‘No,’ he said sternly. ‘Speak.’

I shook my head and closed my eyes again.

He pinched the back of my hand. Hard. It hurt. My eyes flew open.

‘Speak. Or I’ll pick up the phone and before you know it you’ll be up to your ears in doctors and aunts. What happened, Jenny? Tell me. Now.’

It took some doing and half of me hoped he’d get fed up and go, but he didn’t. Finally, in a tiny thread of a voice, I said, ‘I lost my friend.’

Which was true.

He didn’t bother with easy sympathy. ‘Do I know him or her?’

I shook my head. He saw my laptop nearby.

‘An Internet friend?’

Yes, that would do.

I nodded.

‘What happened?’

‘It was very sudden. He’s just – gone.’

‘Just like that? No warning?’

I shook my head.

‘Had you known your friend long?’

‘Fifteen years.’

‘Oh, Jenny. And it’s not as if you had that many friends to begin with. Were you close?’

‘I told him everything. He helped me. He made things not so bad.’

If he noticed the ‘he’, he made no comment.

We sat in silence for a long time.

‘It’s not easy, losing someone. Without warning. It’s like having a piece of yourself ripped out.’

I nodded. That was exactly what it was like. He knew. He’d lost his mother. He’d lost Francesca. Both without warning.

‘It doesn’t do to dwell too much on the past, Jenny. Trust me. Of course you must respect the memory of your friend and the best way to do that is to carry on with your life. Hold the memories in your heart. Keep them safe and you’ll find they’re there when you need them.’

I nodded, not looking at the empty corner.

‘Now, up you get. Come down and have something to eat. There’s donkeys to feed, gardens to work in, Kevins to advise. Your friend helped you. Now the time has come to pass on that help to others.’

For a moment, I could almost hear an echo of Thomas’s voice in the corner. Russell had said exactly the right thing. Who would have thought it?

I nodded. ‘You don’t look so hot yourself.’

He smiled and got up. ‘My wife is a darling, but very high maintenance. I’ll be back in half an hour. Be ready.’

I was very obedient. I did exactly as I was told. I showered and dressed, albeit very slowly. I ate what was put in front of me. I helped muck out the stables. I listened while Mrs Crisp talked of menus and household accounts. I sat with a trowel in my hand and watched Kevin work in the garden. I forgot to hide my chocolate digestives and a surprised but delighted Marilyn could hardly believe her luck. After lunch, we sat down with Kevin.

He had his letter in front of him. It was folded, but I could just see the ending – ‘Your loving Mum,’ and three kisses.

I would not have thought anything could pierce the fog of misery in which I had wrapped myself, but the sight of his face shocked me into thinking of someone other than myself for a change. Gone was the happy, relaxed Kevin who pottered about the yard, teasing and being teased by Marilyn. He looked exactly as he had on that first night. Except he was about a foot taller. And wider.

Mrs Crisp put tea on the table, shot me a worried look, and then took herself off with Sharon, who was shooting worried looks at Kevin. The only sound was the cat, sprawled belly-up in front of the range. I didn’t know cats snored.

‘For God’s sake,’ said Russell, irritably. ‘Someone put a tea-towel over it. A food preparation area is no place to be showing us where his privates used to be. Suppose the vicar calls. Eh?’I tried to think of something – anything – less likely than the clergy turning up to visit the Gomorrah that was Frogmorton Farm.

‘Now then, young Kevin,’ he said briskly, but not unkindly. ‘What’s happening?’

He swallowed. ‘I’ve had a letter from my mum,’ he said, which we knew, but he got no further.

I felt Russell twitch with impatience beside me, and felt a twinge of alarm, but he said only, ‘Have you decided what to do?’

‘She wants me to go and live with her again. He’s gone. My step-dad’s gone. But …’ he trailed off, blinking at the letter.

‘But you’re not sure if you want to go back,’ supplied Russell. ‘You’re worried the same thing might happen again when the next man comes along. You’re not sure how you feel about her making you leave in the first place. And you’re worried we’ll make you leave now you have somewhere to go. You’ve had a taste of independence and you like it here.’

And if he leaves he won’t be able to spend his days being reduced to blushing incoherency every time Sharon looks at him, I thought.

‘But,’ continued Russell, ‘you feel bad because you do really want to see your mum again, but you’re not sure what to say or do when you do see her.’

He nodded.

I was impressed. But, of course, he’d been in the army. Young men and their troubles were not the mystery to him that they were to me.

‘Well, to deal with these things in order. You know your mum best, of course. How likely is it to happen again? Do you think she will have learned from her mistake? And we all make mistakes, Kev. Even parents aren’t perfect. Everyone screws up occasionally. One day it might be you, but my guess is that when you do, she’ll still welcome you back with open arms because that’s what mothers do. It’s in their job description.

‘And there’s no chance of us chucking you out. Boxer’s got used to you and you’re the only one brave enough to tackle the garden without full SWAT-style protection and flame-thrower. So don’t worry about that. One day you will want to go. And we’ll miss you. But not just yet.’

Kevin nodded again, staring at the table.

‘So here’s a thought. Go and stay for a weekend. That way you can come back quite naturally on the Monday which will give both of you chance to think things over in your own time. See how it goes. What do you think?’

He nodded again.

‘And if she wants to visit you here, to make sure we’re not abusing you or selling you into slavery, then that’s fine. Just let us know so we can keep that bloody cat covered up. In fact, I’m not sure what it’s still doing here?’ he said accusingly.

That was true. He’d initially demanded it be removed from the premises and when his entire household had stared reproachfully at him, had amended this to grudgingly allowing it to sleep in the stable, where at least it might prove useful keeping the rodents down. The cat, of course, had ignored him and snagged the warmest and most comfortable place in the house. His body language suggested he was immoveable.

Kevin spoke at last. ‘There was something else,’ he said.

‘Yes?’

‘The garden. I like it. I like doing it. I wondered … Well, I thought … The thing is, I’d like to do it properly. And all the time. So I went to the library and got some details about the college. And they do a landscaping course. There’s a certificate at the end of it. And then I could get a proper job. No, I don’t mean that the way it sounds, but I can’t impose on you for ever. It’s not a full-time course and I thought I could still work here, and then maybe, if I pass the course, you could give me some references. For a job, I mean, and maybe for if I find somewhere to live …’

He pulled a crumpled leaflet from his pocket and shoved it in front of Russell and said to me, ‘But of course, I won’t go until the garden’s finished. I couldn’t anyway, because the new course doesn’t start until September, but I have to go and talk to them and find out what equipment I need and how much it costs and everything.’

Russell was smoothing out the leaflet. ‘Well, good for you, Kevin. But a word of advice – go and talk to them now and get your name down quick. Sometimes they don’t run these courses if not enough people sign up and sometimes there’s too many people want to do it and it’s first come first served. Either way, go and talk to them. I’m going into Rushford tomorrow to shout at Charlie Daniels about this bloody feed bill again, or maybe just bang his head against the wall and set fire to his office – it depends how I feel – and you can nip off to the college then.’

‘All right, thank you,’ said Kevin, looking suddenly much better.

‘Right,’ said Russell, looking around him. ‘Anything else while I’m on a roll? Shall I lead us out of recession? Solve the problems in the Middle East? Find a competent politician? Put the cat out? No? I’m off to spend a quiet afternoon in my studio. Do you want to come, wife?

Actually, I just wanted to go back to my room, but Thomas would have had something to say about that, so I nodded, picked up a book so he wouldn’t feel he had to talk to me, and followed him as he galloped up the stairs.

What a difference. Tanya’s careful arrangement of his equipment was abandoned. Everything was everywhere. Pictures and newspaper cuttings were stuck higgledy-piggledy all over the walls. The now familiar smell of linseed oil hit me in the face. Stained canvases leaned against the walls. Both easels held a canvas – a landscape on one and something swirly on the other. Sketches, big and small littered the big table. On top was a rather nice study of some autumn leaves. I would have liked to look through them, but good manners prevailed. I picked my way carefully across the floor, which was equally strewn with books, a couple of empty beer bottles, and a pizza box he was obviously hiding from Mrs Crisp. I cautiously zig-zagged to the sofa, made myself a little nest of pillows and cushions, picked up my book, and fell asleep.

‘Well, you’re a stimulating companion,’ said my husband, when I opened my eyes half an hour later. ‘I’d hoped for witty banter, the exchange of ideas, the stimulation of creative juices, the wifely chirps of encouragement, and all I got was snoring. Do you want some tea?’

I nodded, still pulling myself together.

‘Well, stick the kettle on and make some, there’s a good girl.’

I scowled at him, made two cups of tea, and brought one over.

‘What do you think?’

He’d done a delightful sketch of Marilyn peering angelically through her fringe, usually just prior to doing something completely outrageous.

‘It’s perfect,’ I said. ‘That’s just how she looked before she ate that pack of chocolate digestives. Can we frame it?’

‘Well,’ he said, ‘I was thinking we could use it as our Christmas card. It’s going to be our one and only Christmas together so we ought to make it a bit special. You know the sort of thing, “Season’s Greetings from Russell and Jenny Checkland.” We’ll send them out to people we like and in a few years their rarity value will make them worth a bit. They’ll become collectors’ items and when I’m rich and famous, people will auction theirs off for a fortune.’

Something else I’d forgotten about during my current bout of misery. In just over six months, I would be leaving, and whereas a little place somewhere to share with Thomas was an appealing prospect, suddenly, living alone wasn’t half so inviting. But I didn’t want to appear clinging and pathetic, so I sipped my tea and nodded.