The Nothing Girl (6 page)

Read The Nothing Girl Online

Authors: Jodi Taylor

Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Women's Fiction, #Contemporary Women, #Romance, #Fantasy, #Contemporary Fiction

BOOK: The Nothing Girl
12.82Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

Time passed happily and then Thomas burst the bubble.


You do realise that when you finish the dining room, probably the day after tomorrow, that’s it? All finished.

I hadn’t realised. I’d been enjoying myself so much that I hadn’t thought ahead at all. This time next week, I’d be back to my old ways. It was going to be hard. I’d had a glimpse of something better.

I swallowed and nodded.


What will you do?

I shook my head.


Jenny … speak.

‘I don’t know. I’ve got used to being out of the house. Maybe I’ll do some walking. Explore the moors.’


Not on your own.

‘Maybe I’ll join a walking group.’


You?

I thought that was a little unkind. Normally it was Thomas urging me on to try new things. I thought he would be pleased.

‘Or maybe a book group.’

Silence.

‘Or maybe the Local History Society.’

More silence. What was wrong with him?


You think that’s the answer?

‘What’s the question?’


What are you going to do about your feelings for Russell Checkland?

‘Nothing. You must have noticed, since I’m sure it was you who pointed it out to me in the first place, that he’s head over heels in love with FrancescaKingdom.’


No, he’s not.

‘Are we talking about the same people here?’


He doesn’t love her. He desires her. He’s obsessed with her. But he doesn’t love her. Nor she him.

‘Well, he thinks he does, which is the same thing.’


Not quite, but stop changing the subject.

‘I’m not. There just isn’t anything to say.’


Are you going to give up?

‘What?’


You’ve had a taste of something good. You loved it. Look at the difference in you. You’re positively sparkling. I’m surprised no one has said anything. Are you going to just give it all up?

‘What are you suggesting? That I repaint the house a second time?’


No,
’ he said in such patient tones that I could feel myself losing my temper. ‘
I’m just saying you should make an effort before it’s too late. Do you really want these last two weeks to be the sole highlight of your life?

I was so angry and hurt that I stamped off to bed there and then. I lay awake all night. Thomas stood by the window. I could hear his tail swishing. Neither of us spoke to the other.

Nor were we speaking when Russell collected me the next morning. I was quiet. Thomas was quiet. Even Russell was quiet.

We started the last room in a far from sunny atmosphere. I was annoyed with Thomas, who seemed to have gone out of his way to spoil my last few days here. It was so unlike him, I was upset and angry and ready to do anything to annoy the world.

So you could say he made a really good job of setting me up for my first proposal of marriage.

Chapter Three

Painting the dining-room seemed to take for ever. Russell worked so slowly that several times I had to wait for him before I could do my bit.

At about twelve thirty he suddenly said, ‘I’m hungry. Shall we have an early lunch?’

I nodded, wrapped my roller in cling film, washed my hands, and followed him into the kitchen.

I can’t remember what we had for lunch that day. That was a first. Mrs Crisp was a first-rate cook and we’d followed her instructions and lingered over lunch every day. I do know that at some point during the meal Thomas moved up beside me and whispered, ‘
Pay attention. I think this next bit is going to be important
.’ He went to stand by the window again, looking out at the rain.

Russell, who had been nearly as silent as me, made coffee and passed me my usual mug. This was probably the last time this would ever happen. There was so little to do that he could easily finish it himself tomorrow. He was working himself up to tell me he didn’t need me any more. I tried to be philosophical about it. Even just two weeks was better than none at all.


No, it’s not.

He stirred his coffee, put down the spoon, picked it up, stirred his coffee again, and said, without looking at me, ‘I’ve been thinking.’

He stared at his coffee for so long that I stared at it too, wondering if there was something wrong with it. He seemed nervous? What was going on?

‘I’ve been thinking,’ he said again, presumably in case I hadn’t grasped it the first time round. ‘I’ve had a bit of an idea and I don’t want you to say anything until I’ve finished.’

As if that wouldn’t happen anyway.

‘It occurs to me, Jenny, that you and I may be able to help each other out a little.’

Having got so far, he lapsed back into silence, staring at his still swirling coffee. Confused, I glanced over to Thomas, who was apparently still engrossed in the darkening landscape outside but had his ears turned back so he wouldn’t miss anything.

And then I got it. Of course, he wanted to borrow money. That was what the tour had been about, getting me involved in the painting, buying the buckets, the lunches, all leading up to a request for a loan. I don’t know why he was so embarrassed. I was quite happy to help. Of course, Uncle Richard wouldn’t be. He wouldn’t be happy at all. He was a solicitor. He didn’t like Russell Checkland. It wouldn’t be easy, but at the end of the day, the money was mine and there were no strings attached.

And maybe, said an inner voice, you’ll get to come here again. He’s certain to want to show you how the money’s being spent. This means you can come back.

He obviously came to a decision, pushed his coffee away and said, all in a rush, ‘The thing is, Jenny, I need money and you’ve got some. And you need a home and I’ve got one. I think we should get together for – mutual benefit.’

I stared at him, completely confused.


Good grief.

‘Are you suggesting …? No, I … What?’

He stared at me in exasperation. ‘What?’

‘That’s what I said.’

‘Are you deliberately trying to make this difficult? Is this funny to you?’

I felt tears well up. ‘What? What did I do wrong?’

‘Nothing. Nothing. I’m sorry. For God’s sake, don’t cry.’

‘I’m not crying,’ I sobbed. ‘But I … don’t know what you want and I’ve … done something wrong.’

‘No, no you haven’t. Here.’ He pulled out a paint-stained rag. On the grounds I couldn’t make it any more revolting, I blew my nose and handed it back.

‘My, you’re a thorough girl, aren’t you?’

I couldn’t help a watery smile.

‘Oh God, I’ve done this all wrong.’


You certainly have,
’ said Thomas.

Done what? What was going on? I had that awful feeling you get when everyone knows what’s going on but you. Things started to clench inside. My last day was ruined.

He turned his chair to face me and took my hand. ‘I’ve made a complete pig’s ear of this. Let’s regard that as my practice swing and begin again. OK, here goes.

‘Jenny. We each have things the other needs. I need money to finish restoring this old place. It eats money but it’s my home and I love it. I hope you will too. With money I can begin to paint again and pick up my reputation. It would be a new beginning for me.

‘You – you need a home. You need to get away from Julia and Richard. I know they’ve looked after you and you’ve wanted for nothing. Except a life, opportunities, and fun, of course. I can give you a home. You can live here with me. You’ll have this house and the gardens to play with. I’ll introduce you to a few people if you wish. Or not. Whatever you want to do. The point is, there’s a whole world out there and it’s time you were part of it. Frankly, if you don’t do it now then you probably never will. Is that what you want, Jenny?’ His voice softened. ‘To spend every single day of your life doing exactly the same thing, at exactly the same time, with exactly the same people? For the rest of your life? Don’t you want to travel a little? Get out there? Not know what each day will bring? I can help you. I will help you. We can help each other. I can’t see a downside to this.’

He was picking up speed now.

‘And you don’t have to worry about … you know. I’m a selfish sod, but I’m not that bad. I shan’t be imposing myself on you. And if you … well, if you were to meet someone … then I’m not going to be … As long as you’re discreet, of course,’ said the most indiscreet man in the county. ‘I just think – there’s a way we can both get what we want and need. It’s quick, it’s painless, and we both benefit. What do you think?’

I stared at him.

‘You can speak now.’

From somewhere, I found a voice. ‘You’re asking me … to … move in with you?’

‘No. No, of course not.’

I felt as if I’d been kicked in the stomach. How stupid am I?

‘I’m asking if you would like to marry me.’

And now I’d been kicked in the heart.

He was racing on again. You can’t shut Russell Checkland up for long.

‘I admit it wasn’t my first choice, but there’s no way your uncle’s going to let you live with me without the protection of marriage vows and actually, he’d be right.’

That knocked the gloss off things a little.


No,
’ said Thomas. ‘
Give him credit for a little honesty. He hasn’t drowned you in a load of old twaddle about you being the most beautiful woman in the world and how deeply he loves you.

Russell was ploughing on.

‘We’ve known each other a long time.’

We’d played together occasionally as children.

‘I like you, you like me. At least I hope you do. I think we could live very comfortably together. We’re both putting into the deal so we’d be equal partners. I think we could have a nice life together. What do you think?’

Rain lashed against the windows. The dishwasher whirled away to itself.


You should say something
,’ said Thomas. ‘
It’s only polite.

‘What? What can I say? What should I say? What shall I do?’


Seriously?
’ said Thomas, looking round. ‘
Do whatever you want to do.

‘But …’


No, Jenny. Don’t do what you think other people would want you to do. Don’t do what you think is the right thing to do. Do what you want to do.

Russell nudged my coffee mug closer and I sipped gratefully.

‘I know this is a bit of a surprise to you. Well, quite a big surprise, probably. Well no, more like a huge shock, but you’ve stopped crying, you haven’t bolted for the door, and you haven’t said no. Can I be reasonably optimistic?’

He looked like a hopeful little boy. ‘I tell you what, I can see this has taken you by surprise. You need time to think it over before giving me an answer.’

I nodded.

‘Finish your coffee first.’

I choked.

‘That’s better,’ he said approvingly. ‘I’ve got to say, it’s a bit of a bugger when you propose to a girl and she looks like she’s been hit by a truck. Take your time.’

He sat back and drummed his fingers on the table.


You know,
’ said Thomas, ‘
as fortune hunters go, he’s got to be the worst in the business. A more professional approach would have involved flowers, not buckets, a romantic meal for two, music … and maybe a ring. This guy proposes to you in a dilapidated farmhouse to a background of dripping water and the second rinse cycle. Are you going to say yes?

‘I don’t know.’


So that’s a yes, then.

‘I didn’t say that.’


In a proposal, anything that isn’t a no is a yes.

‘You’re not helping.’


I don’t have to. You already know what you’re going to do.

‘I know what I
should
do.’


Not the same thing at all. You’d better get back to your prospective fiancé. I think he’s going to burst.

I looked at him, all shadowed eyes, rumpled hair and nervous energy. For a long, long moment I hovered on the brink of ‘yes.’ But even I have some pride.

‘Francesca.’

He sat back, face falling. What did he expect? That he could sneak off to see her and I would provide a packed lunch? I had no intention of sitting quietly at home while a sniggering Rushford gossiped behind my back.

He looked at me, looked out of the window, looked down at his lap, looked back at me again, took my mug, and poured us both another coffee. ‘I’ll tell you the truth. I owe you that.’

I nodded.

‘I worship her. She’s the reason I live.’

Not many women get such an admission two minutes after a proposal of marriage. I was proud of my control. Thomas turned away from the window and stood behind Russell, where I could see him.

‘When we met again in London, it was so good. She was so beautiful. She was nicer then, simpler. She laughed more. And she wanted to be with me. Every day brought something new and wonderful. Neither of us could do any wrong. Everything we touched turned to gold. I couldn’t stop painting. It just poured out of me, I knew what I wanted to say. Pretty well everything I did was snatched up, I can’t tell you what it was like. It was exciting, intoxicating. I thought it would go on for ever. And when she got that TV part I thought … well, never mind.

‘And then I woke up one morning and she was sitting by the bed with her suitcases. I know what people said about her, but she did at least say goodbye to my face. Then she picked up her stuff and walked away.

‘Maybe if I’d cried, instead of getting drunk. Maybe if I hadn’t trashed all my work. Maybe I should have just carried on. I’d painted joy, maybe I should have painted despair. I drank instead. A lot.

‘And then, as you know, my father turned up. He settled my debts, although don’t think I didn’t pay one way or another. And pay and pay. I went off to the army – I didn’t care what I did them. I had some idea about serving my country, I suppose. Well, that didn’t work either. Back home I came and here she was. Only a few miles away.’

He sipped his coffee carefully.

‘I should have gone away. And stayed away. I couldn’t do it, I meant to keep away from her and then one day, there she was. Standing in front of me. No warning. No escape. She smiled. I was there. No control. No pride. She lifted her little finger and I left a smoking groove in the carpet.

‘But it’s not the same now. There are others involved. It’s wrong. But I thought – if I could just see her then maybe I could paint again. Maybe it would all come back. Maybe it will be as it was.’


You see,
’ said Thomas very softly
,

not one single word of love.

‘And was it?’

‘Not yet.’

I had a sudden moment of clarity. It wasn’t Francesca, as such, that he wanted. It was what she represented. That was what he wanted back. That time when everything he painted was golden and he felt like the king of the world. But you can’t go back. You can never go back.

I felt so sorry for him. I had envied him. All this time I’d been living my little life and he’d been out there, at the centre of his world, full of life and energy. But there was always a downside and it usually involved pain and suffering and I was looking at the result in front of me. In that minute, my heart went out to him. I reached out my hand.

He took it and held it hard. ‘I swear to you, if you marry me I will never do one single thing to hurt you. You have my word. I’m not a complete bastard, you know. You’ll be safe with me.’

I had no stupid ideas about redemption. That doesn’t happen. But one day she’d walk away from him again. Whether she married Daniel Palmer or not, she would walk away. And he might not survive a second time. And when that happened – and it would – this time there should be someone there for him. Someone to stop him destroying the things that meant most to him. I knew why he had done it. One pain to cancel out another. But Francesca wasn’t the only thing he missed. He was grieving for his lost paintings too and didn’t know it.

I closed my mind to the oncoming fury and strife. The next few days would not be easy at all.

He read my thoughts. ‘I’ll make sure it all falls on me. I’ll be there.’


And I will too,
’ said Thomas. ‘
I’m here for as long as you need me.

What could go wrong?

Of course, I should have asked questions. I should have asked what the marriage would actually entail. What would he get out of it – apart from the money? How would I benefit – apart from gaining a home? I should have asked about what he expected from me and what I could expect from him. About children. About the future. How would we make it work? The day to day, nuts and bolts bits of two people living together. And most of all, I should have talked about Francesca. Asked proper questions I mean, not just accepted his blithe assurance …

I should have made a better effort. Words circled my head but none of them touched down. I should have made an attempt to shift the log jam inside me. But I’d had a brief, a wonderful glimpse of a bright, far-off country.

I said yes.

Other books

The Secret Prophecy by Herbie Brennan
Until It Hurts to Stop by Jennifer R. Hubbard
W: The Planner, The Chosen by Alexandra Swann, Joyce Swann
The Millionaires by Brad Meltzer
Someone Else's Love Story by Joshilyn Jackson
Suzanna by Harry Sinclair Drago