The Sweetest Thing (44 page)

‘Yes, so what are we going to do about it?’ David says.

‘I’m going to talk to Adam when he’s feeling better, then I’m going to talk to the doctor to see if we can organise some professional counselling.’

‘I can imagine how Adam will react to that,’ David says, a brief smile crossing his face.

‘We can’t deal with it ourselves when we’re part of the problem.’ It had appeared on the surface that
Adam had coped quite well with the divorce, but I wonder if he ever really accepted it. Hence the drinking and his anger when Guy kissed me … ‘He needs to talk to someone else, someone outside the family.’

When we return to his bedside, Adam is half awake and I leave David to spend some time with him, just the two of them. I try to make small talk with Alice, asking her about the wedding and the baby, but she isn’t very forthcoming. We have little in common, apart from David.

‘They reckon he’ll be coming home within twenty-four hours,’ David says when he rejoins us.

‘I expect you’ll want to stay until then, at least,’ I say. ‘David, you and Alice are welcome to stay at the house. I’m sure the girls would love to see you.’

‘Where are they? You haven’t left them home alone, have you?’

‘They’re with a friend of mine, Maria. Guy texted to let me know he’d dropped them over there.’ I pause. ‘If I give you the address, you can collect them on the way. I expect they’re worried sick.’

‘Oh, all right. Thanks, Jennie.’

What else can I do? I think. David isn’t a bad man. He loves Alice – I notice how he watches her, as if he can’t believe his luck. I see how he takes her hand and raises it to his lips, and my stomach no longer lurches with jealousy, and I have no urge to tear out her golden tresses – or bitch about the fact that they’re mainly hair extensions, or pray inwardly that one day soon they’ll leave her with bald patches on her scalp.

Thirty-six hours later David collects me and Adam to take us back home, to Jennie’s Folly. As soon as we get inside the front door, Lucky comes racing into the hall
to greet Adam, jumping up and snuffling with delight, licking Adam’s face as he kneels down to him, and nipping at his ears.

‘Your master’s home,’ I start to say, but my throat’s tight with emotion. I think I can safely say that I love that dog now.

‘Daddy!’ Sophie cries, as she and Georgia come running in from the kitchen in coats and muddy boots. I am just about to suggest they take them off when I think, What does it matter in the scheme of things? ‘You’re back. And Mummy. And Adam.’

‘Have you seen Alice?’ David asks, touching the tip of Sophie’s nose.

‘She’s in the drawing room, having another sleep,’ Georgia says, and I smile to myself when I glance round the door and catch her sitting with her feet up.

‘There’s no food in the house.’ David glances at me apologetically. ‘I haven’t done any shopping – I took Alice and the girls to Mr Rock’s, that fish and chip shop in town, for lunch.’

‘Of course there’s food,’ I say. There’s flour, sugar, cheese, butter and eggs.

‘Yes, but there aren’t any meals as such.’

‘You mean, there are no ready meals.’

‘Some woman, Fifi, turned up last night with a stew, but that’s gone.’

‘That was kind of her,’ I say, touched by her generosity. ‘I don’t know how she knew about Adam.’

‘She said she heard the ambulance going past her house and made some enquiries.’ David smiles. ‘I thought village gossips were an urban myth, so to speak.’

‘I can assure you that they’re alive and well here in Talyton St George.’

‘She wanted to see you.’

‘The feeling isn’t necessarily mutual at the moment,’ I say, even though she did me a favour by exposing the extent of Guy’s involvement with Ruthie.

‘She said to give you the message that she’s very sorry.’

Sorry for what? I muse. For Adam’s mishap, or for interfering between me, Ruthie and Guy?

‘One other thing – Alice has taken down the details of two orders for you, and an enquiry about supplying one of your local farm shops with your speciality cake … what was it?’

‘Uphill Cider Cake,’ I say. ‘Wow, I’m chuffed.’

‘I’m beginning to sense I’m going to have to eat my words,’ David says. ‘I doubted you, but it seems that the business is really taking off.’

‘Thanks,’ I say. ‘David, could I possibly ask you to put the kettle on and make some tea? I need to pop out for half an hour or so. There’s something I have to do.’

‘Are you going far?’

‘Next door, that’s all,’ I say. ‘I want to thank Guy personally.’

‘Would you like me to come? I mean, I have as much to thank him for as you do.’

‘It’s okay. I’d rather you stayed here and kept an eye on the children – don’t let Adam out of your sight, and don’t give him a hard time,’ I say, fiercely protective of my son. ‘Promise me?’

‘Promise,’ David responds. He seems to have mellowed. Maybe it’s because of the baby.

‘Are you and Guy …?’

I shake my head.

‘But you’d like to be,’ David persists.

‘Would have liked to have been.’ Inside my heart is taut, as if something is about to snap.

‘But?’ says David.

‘It isn’t going to happen.’ I don’t reveal the real reason. ‘I have to concentrate on the children and the business. Adam’s accident has shown me that.’

‘I’d like to see you happy and settled again.’

‘I am happy,’ I say determinedly.

‘And I want you to know, even though I’m about to be a dad again, that I’ll always be there for our children. Jennie …’ For a moment, I think he’s going to touch my arm, but he changes his mind.

When I start putting my coat on, Georgia asks me where I’m off to. When I say I’m going to the farm, she says not to bother because Guy’s gone out. She’s seen his Land Rover.

It’s Guy who drops in to see us an hour or so later, to check that Adam is home, and although I thank him for what he did, he says it was nothing, he would have done it for anyone. There’s so much more that I want to say, but everyone else is here, and I’m in the middle of cooking tea and phoning back regarding the orders because I don’t want to lose them, and the moment passes.

David and Alice leave the next day. Adam is off school for a week or so, recuperating, and one morning I suggest we get outside for some fresh air. We walk along the bank, following the curve of the river as it meanders across the Taly valley, doubling back on itself and close to forming an oxbow lake. It’s a clear winter’s day with a weak, watery sun low in an almost colourless sky. Lucky runs up and down along the bank, alternately sniffing and cocking his leg.

‘There was a time when I thought that was a disgusting habit,’ I say lightly, ‘but I’m prepared to forgive that dog absolutely anything.’

Adam stops, half turns and locks his eyes on mine.

‘Lucky saved my life.’

‘So did Guy,’ I add quietly. ‘He’s heavier than you are – he took quite a risk.’

To my alarm, Adam’s eyes fill with tears.

‘I’m sorry, Mum. I d-d-didn’t mean to hurt anyone.’

I reach out and touch my son’s quivering shoulder, and, aching to hold him, I wait for him to decide. Head down, he steps closer until his forehead is touching my chest. ‘Adam …’ I murmur as I reach my arms around him. He straightens and for a heartbreaking moment I feel as if I’m going to lose him again, and this time, if I let him go, he’ll be gone from me for good.

‘I don’t know why I did it.’ His voice is harsh. ‘I found the bottle in the larder and it seemed like a good idea at the time, then I spilled the gravy powder all over the place and had to clear it up. And you’d gone out with Georgia and Sophie, and I thought you were going to be home by three and you didn’t turn up …’

‘We were late back, I know.’ I’m keeping my arms very still, no pressure. ‘Bracken had to be untacked and have all her boots and bandages put back on when the rally finished.’

‘Stupid ponies,’ Adam says curtly.

‘You don’t mean that. Georgia loves Bracken, just like you’re fond of Lucky.’

‘Stop telling me what I think,’ he cuts in. ‘I
know
what I think. I had too much of that brandy stuff, and I thought, I’ll take my wallet and catch a train back to London.’

‘You were running away?’

‘Yeah. S’pose I was.’

‘I ran away from home once,’ I begin. ‘I can’t remember why. It was probably after some argument with Aunt Karen. I was much younger than you are now. I’d read a book about the Little Grey Men, and decided that I could survive on blackberries and peppermint creams like they did.’

‘And did you?’

‘I left the house with two packets of sweets, ate them, threw up and returned to find that nobody had noticed I was missing.’

‘So that’s why you can’t stand peppermint creams?’

‘That’s right.’ I hesitate. ‘Adam, you’ve told me how you took your wallet. How did you end up where you did?’

‘Oh, Lucky wanted to come with me and I wasn’t thinking straight. I thought I’d walk him first, and headed up through the copse. Well, I could see the pond shining, so I went to have a look.’

‘And?’

‘I can’t remember.’ He shudders. ‘It was so cold … Mum, I thought I was going to die …’

‘Come here, love.’ I don’t know how long it is before he relaxes into me and rests his head on my shoulder. I twist my neck and press my face into his mop of hair that’s fragrant with shampoo and Lynx. ‘I love you so much.’

‘Love you too, Mum.’

You don’t know what that means to me, I think, stroking hot tears from his cheek.

‘You’re the best hugger in the world,’ he goes on. ‘You know exactly how hard to squeeze.’

‘I’ll squeeze all the breath out of you if you ever do something like that again.’

‘I know. It won’t happen again. I thought I was going to die.’

‘Adam, if you really hate it here so very much …’

‘I do,’ he says simply. ‘Sometimes I just want to go home.’

He wants to go back to London. This isn’t a whim. He’s serious.

‘What about Lucky?’

‘There are probably more city dogs than country ones. I don’t think Lucky would be too fussy.’ Adam wriggles out of my embrace and steps back. He’s smiling, I notice, as if he’s been relieved of a huge burden. As for me, I feel bruised and sore. I’ve been selfish, dragging the children away from friends and family, especially their dad and grandparents.

I gaze up the valley and catch sight of Jennie’s Folly, its windows glinting in the morning sun, and a lump catches in my throat. I can’t let this situation continue. Although it’s tearing me apart, the idea of leaving the animals, the business and my new friends behind, the only way forward for my family is for me to sell up and go back to London.

It’s the end of the love affair. My time at this beautiful house has ended up being an all-too-brief fling.

‘Adam, I want to tell you something, but first you have to promise me you won’t say a word to anyone about this, not to your father or your sisters? I have to sort some stuff out before it becomes common knowledge.’

‘What is it?’ he says.

‘We’ll go back … back to London.’

‘But, Mum, this is your dream home,’ he says, frowning.

‘My dream, yes, not yours. I shouldn’t have inflicted
it on you. I should have waited until you, Georgia and Sophie were old enough to make your own way in the world.’ I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. ‘I’m going to put the house on the market.’

‘What about school? I’ve started on my GCSE courses.’

‘You can continue with those anywhere. I don’t think that’s a problem. People move all the time.’

‘Have you told Guy about this?’

‘I don’t see that it has anything to do with him.’

‘Hasn’t it?’ Adam says. ‘I thought you liked him … in a boyfriend–girlfriend kind of way.’

‘Maybe, but it hasn’t worked out.’

‘Is it because of me?’ Adam persists. ‘Is it my fault you kind of broke up?’

‘It’s down to lots of things.’

‘I was angry that day when I saw you by the tractor, not with you and Guy but with everything. What I’m saying is that I wouldn’t have minded if you had got together.’ It’s a bit late to say that now, I think, as Adam continues, ‘I like Guy.’

‘I don’t want to talk about it,’ I say sharply.

‘Okay, but what if Georgia and Sophie don’t want to leave?’

‘Adam! Remember, don’t say a word.’

He and I walk home. As we reach the house, a cloud crosses the sun and the windows go dark. I look at the sign outside, the one that Summer made: Jennie’s Folly. My friends and family were right about that. It is my folly, my mistake, but although I’m overwhelmed with regret for how it’s turned out, I know that if I hadn’t moved here and given it a go, I would always have wondered: What if …?

We go through the gate into the yard, Adam
whistling for Lucky to come with us, and I look at the tumbledown barn and the stables, at the pink wheelbarrow tipped on its end against the wall, and Bracken’s box of brushes that Georgia’s left outside the stable door. At the sound of footsteps, Bracken comes trotting over and puts her head over the paddock gate, and whinnies. And I think, What about Bracken? What will happen to her, after all she’s been through? And although I can just about convince myself that we’ll be able to find her a lovely new home with another pony-mad girl to love her, I feel like a traitor – to the pony and, more importantly, to Georgia.