by Anita Waller
‘Can I think about it?’
‘Mark, don’t be scared. I think we have a reasonable relationship now and I know I’ll be able to work with you.’
‘You’re right. When do you want me to start?’
‘Tomorrow?’
‘Fine, I’ll be there at nine o’clock, Amy – I’ll look forward to it.’
She felt restless. Brian had returned to London that afternoon and she missed him. She even missed the smell of cigarette smoke around the place. She knew that she was falling in love and she felt a sense of shock. This love was different. She wanted to be with him, to hold him, to share secrets with him; she had no idea if he felt the same.
A sudden whim made her get into the car and drive into Padstow. She parked on the road and walked along to sit on the harbour wall. The moon was bright, exactly the same as when she and John had first started seeing each other in their teens. She remembered how they had joked about it being a straight path of moonbeams to the United States – funny how it had been Dawn in the end who had taken the moonbeam path.
She pictured John and found that his image came swiftly to mind. What was difficult was remembering how he felt, the essence of him. And sitting on that harbour wall at eleven o’clock at night, completely and utterly alone, she wondered whether it had ever been love. She wiped away a tear from her cheek and stood up.
She had to talk to Brian.
‘Brian? It’s me.’
‘Hello you.’ She could hear the fuzziness of sleep in his voice. ‘Shouldn’t you be in bed?’
‘No. I need to talk. I’ve been out, down into Padstow, and I’ve been thinking. About you. About us.’
There was a long silence.
‘Oh?’ She heard the sound of his lighter as he lit a cigarette.
‘Don’t just say oh! You’re not making this easy.’
‘If you’re going to say you think we should end our relationship, I don’t want to make it easy.’ He sighed.
She laughed, her mind feeling free. ‘No, quite the opposite. I think I’m about to bare my soul, so will you wake up?’
‘I’m awake, I’m awake! Is something wrong, Amy?’ She could hear the concern in his voice and loved him for it.
‘Yes. Something is wrong. I think I’m about to declare my undying love.’
Again there was a long silence. She panicked. ‘Brian?’
‘I’m here, Amy. Just say it. Just say I love you.’
‘I love you.’
He whistled down the line. ‘Phew – I thought you couldn’t do that. I honestly thought that you wouldn’t be able to say that.’
‘Can you say it?’
‘Sweetheart, I can shout it from the rooftops!’ he laughed. ‘Amy Thornton, I love you!’
‘Then why haven’t you told me before, you moron? Why make me wait?’
‘I had to wait for you. I had to make sure you could put John to one side. I don’t expect to take his place, I expect you to love me for what I am, for who I am, not because John is no longer there. I think now that you’re ready.’
‘I’m ready.’ She was aware of what she was being coerced into admitting. ‘But there’s a lot about me that you don’t know.’ She felt nervous and moved her frog collection on a table nearby into regimented lines.
She talked quickly and jerkily. ‘My past is complex. When I see you, I’ll tell you. I have to tell you, so that you’ll understand. I have to tell you everything.’
‘Hey, hey! Don’t frighten me. And whatever it is, it won’t matter. I haven’t just fallen in love with you, you know. I never imagined myself being able to tell you. Look, I can’t get to you until the weekend because we’ve got a hectic week – I’m off to Scotland tomorrow. We’ll do all the talking we need when I get to you. Are you all right?’
‘I’m fine. I love you so much. You’ve been good for me. I just hope you’ll still feel the same after this weekend.’
‘I promise you I will. Now sleep well, sweetheart. I’m so glad you rang, it was worth waking up for.’ He blew a kiss down the line.
‘Love you,’ she said and replaced the receiver. She stood for a long time just looking at the handset. Before she moved away, all the little frogs had been put back into their random positions.
‘I saw Amy last night.’
Ken looked up in surprise.
‘Where?’ Amy very rarely went anywhere after dark.
Malcolm pushed the fork into the ground before speaking again. ‘Sitting on the harbour wall.’
Ken was intrigued now. ‘Doing what?’
‘Just sitting.’ He levered the fork and bent to pick out the potatoes. ‘She was there for quite a long time.’
‘Did she say anything?’
‘She didn’t see me. I went down to do a spot of fishing off the end of the harbour – I reckon she was there for about half an hour. I was pretty close to her but she couldn’t see me round the concrete post.’ He straightened and moved on to the next plant. ‘I’m pretty sure she was crying though.’
And am I supposed to feel sorry for her? Ken thought angrily.
The evillest woman he’d ever met in his life was sitting crying on a harbour wall and he was supposed to do something about it?
‘I’d better tell Brenda,‘ he said.
‘Of course I’m all right, Brenda.’ Amy smiled at her mother. ‘Couldn’t be better actually. Why?’
‘Oh, you know…’ Brenda felt uncomfortable. ‘Just worried, that’s all. Me being a silly old woman, I expect.’
She picked up her cup of coffee and sipped it. The kitchen of Amy’s home had undertaken a transformation in recent months. She viewed the oak cupboards with something bordering on envy.
‘I love this kitchen,’ she said and smiled at her daughter as she skilfully changed the subject.
‘I’m having the entire place done. Sort of ‘out with the old’ type of thing.’
Brenda stared at her, suddenly aware of the difference. Amy actually looked happy.
‘Why?’ The question was blunt and Brenda knew it.
‘Because things are happening in my life and I feel as if I want to go forward.’
‘What things?’
‘Brian. We… care for each other. And other things – I’ve almost sold the business.’
Brenda stared at Amy.
‘I don’t believe it! You’ve lived for that business…’
‘Not any more. It’s time to get out. I was doing very little of the work anyway so I’ve sold it on the understanding that the Amy Thornton of Optimum name is kept.’ She laughed. ‘The buyer, a nice chap from Derby, didn’t object.’
‘So what will you do with your time now?’ Brenda felt a little dazed. This was a new Amy.
‘Write.’
‘Write?’ She felt a cold shudder run through her remembering the contents of Amy’s early stories.
‘John didn’t have a monopoly on pen and ink, you know.’ Amy realised she sounded harsh and softened her words. ‘I’ve just finished off John’s last novel. David has it and he wants to see me tomorrow. I’m not sure what that means – it could be good, it could be bad. It doesn’t matter. I know I can write, have always known it. And now I feel as if I’ve come out from under a great shadow. I won’t write under the name of Thornton either. I’ll be Amelia Andrews.’
Just for a moment Brenda felt happy. Amelia Andrews had been such a lovely child. It was when that child had become Amy Andrews and then Amy Thornton that all the problems had started.
‘That’s good,’ she said quietly, ‘I like the name change.’
She stood and took the two mugs over to the sink. Amy picked up the tea towel and smiled at her mother.
‘Do you approve?’
‘It’s not my place to approve or disapprove. I only ever wanted you to be happy. I presume Brian is responsible for this change in you?’
Amy nodded.
‘I love him. Not in the same way I loved John. It’s different. He’s very caring, very considerate,
treats me like I’m special.’
‘Does he know about…?’
‘Treverick?’ Amy said the name quickly, almost spitting it out. ‘Not yet. I’m telling him this weekend.’
She finished drying the mugs and put them away in the cupboard.
In disbelief, Brenda watched Amy perform the simple task of putting away the tea towel. She draped it over a hanger and walked away. No meticulous folding. Brenda felt a sense of relief flood through her and almost cried aloud with happiness.
This she had to report to Freda and as soon as possible.
‘Of course we’re going to take the book.’ David smiled as he watched the tension ebb from Amy’s face. ‘You did an excellent job on it.’
‘Well, I think I ought to tell you that it wasn’t the intended ending. I didn’t know until yesterday but apparently Mark knew John’s plans for it and they’re nothing like mine!’
‘They wouldn’t be.’
‘I’ll ignore that,’ she said with a laugh. ‘So – can I show you this?’ She waved a sheaf of papers at him.
‘What is it?’
‘My next book.’
‘Can you leave it with me?’
‘Yes, it’s all on disc. Mark saw to that.’
‘Mark’s back with you?’
‘I needed him.’ She said it while challenging him with her eyes. ‘I can’t work computers and what’s more, I don’t want to. He can.’
David shook his head from side to side.
‘You never cease to amaze me, Amy Thornton. You humiliate him in the worst way possible, lose him his job, lose him his girlfriend and still he comes back to you.’
She stood and picked up her briefcase. ‘You’ll let me know what you think of that synopsis?’
‘Within twenty-four hours.’
‘Good. And just think about this, you sanctimonious schweinhund. I might have humiliated Mark and done the things you’ve accused me of but on that night, for a few seconds he was the happiest man alive. See you, David.’
She walked out of his office with a casual swing of her hips. Pausing in the doorway, she turned and blew him a kiss.
‘Bitch,’ he said and they laughed together.
‘Love to Pat and the kids,’ she called taking the sunshine out of his office with her when she went.
Ken knew he was drunk. Go down to the pub for an hour she had said. Freda’s coming over and we can’t have a proper natter if you’re there. Go and take Malcolm for a pint.
But Malcolm had left at nine o’clock, not wanting to be away from his family. With Maria expecting their third child any day he wanted to be at home.
And so Ken had stayed in the Nail Makers pub, reflecting on how his life had changed; the plans he had made were all reaching fruition. The cake icing was a loving and happy marriage. So why did he feel like drinking himself to oblivion?
Amy.
Brenda had been excited when she had returned from seeing her daughter. He was unable to accept that there could ever be a new Amy. His dreams still occasionally featured the sight of her long legs, the pubic mound exquisitely outlined against the white silk panties when she raised her skirt to him in the glass house; the goading as she had offered herself to him on the dirt floor.
He couldn’t believe that any woman could do that and then suddenly become an angel in disguise.
He downed the last of his beer and left the pub. He staggered slightly as he lurched against the doorframe and then tried to pull himself together.
‘Straight line, owd duck,’ he said to himself aloud. He couldn’t walk in a straight line if he’d had parallel bars to guide him.
He made it to the bottom of the lane without falling over and then looked across the fields towards Amy’s house. Without consciously knowing why, he set off towards it.
He stopped at the gates and moved into the shadow of a huge laurel at the bottom of the drive. Suddenly the downstairs light went off and then he saw the bedroom light come on.
Amy’s bedroom, where she had made love to Mark.
She stood in the window looking out for several moments. Then she reached up and closed the curtains, stretching the thin fabric of her blouse tautly across her breasts.
‘Bitch, bitch, bitch,’ he cursed, then unzipped his trousers and masturbated into the laurel bush.
53
Amy sipped constantly at her brandy as she told Brian of her childhood. She watched his face carefully, searching for signs of revulsion. She saw no change in his expression.
He said nothing until she finished speaking.
‘And that’s what you’ve spent this week worrying about?’
She nodded and dropped her head. She wasn’t sure she could look him in the eye.
‘Why? Didn’t you think I would understand? None of it was your fault, Amy. None of it.’
‘But it was. I was alone on that field. We drill it into children never to speak to strangers, to scream and what did I do?’
‘But it wasn’t like that in… what, 1952? Nobody worried about such stuff back then. That’s why it was so easy for Treverick to get to you. It wasn’t your fault and it wasn’t your mum or dad’s fault. You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. It could have been any little girl.’
‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘No, it was always me. He told the police that he’d had me marked out because I was so beau… pretty.’
‘Come here.’ He held out his arms and she sat by him. ‘Well,’ he said with a smile, ‘now that you’ve told me all that, at least we can sit together.’
‘I couldn’t sit next to you. I had to be able to see your face.’
‘And?’
‘And you didn’t show a damn thing. Didn’t you feel anything?’ she asked.
‘Anger. A very deep anger. He was an animal and should have been treated as such. Prison was too good for him. It has changed my feelings towards you though.’ He felt her stiffen and he pulled her closer to him. ‘Now I not only love you, I feel more protective towards you. I don’t want to leave you. I don’t want to go back to London and leave you here. But I don’t want to ask you to move to London to be with me. You’d be stifled there.’
‘I couldn’t live anywhere but here,’ she said simply.
‘I know. We’ll work something out. I’m here until Tuesday if that’s okay with you.’
‘You know it is. Kiss me, Brian.’
He bent his head and traced the outline of her lips with his index finger before placing his lips on hers.
They separated and she moaned. ‘I love you,’ she whispered. ‘For the first time in my life I feel – oh, I don’t know – feelings.’
He held her away from him and looked at her.
‘But you were married to John for all those years. Are you trying to tell me you didn’t love him?’
She shook her head. ‘No, it wasn’t like that. I couldn’t love him. It was totally unfair of me; I married him knowing I could never give myself fully. I was too twisted. But somehow you’ve released me. I don’t understand it. I’m not even sure I want to understand it. You’re a very different sort of person to John – he gave in to me. You’ll never do that. Perhaps that’s been the key all along.’
He kissed her once more, very gently.
‘Go to bed, my love. You look drained. Tomorrow we’ll start our lives. Yours and mine. Come on.’ He stood and then pulled her to her feet.
‘We could start our lives tonight,’ she whispered. ‘Will you come with me? To bed?’
He held her slightly away from him and looked at her, running his eyes from the top of her head to her feet. She felt a tingling, erotic sensation wash over her.
‘That depends on the answer to my next question,’ he said huskily.
‘Will you marry me?’
Amy gasped and nodded. ‘Yes.’
Without speaking he pulled her to him. Holding her tightly to his body she could feel his erection; she knew he wanted her as badly as she wanted him.
His next
words surprised her and made her pull away from him.
‘Then I thank you for the wonderful offer but no, I won’t go to bed with you. I ache for you, Amy, always have, but our marriage is the most important thing that’s ever happened to me. I want to wait for our wedding night to hold you properly, to make love to you. And,’ he said with a grin, ‘I think that’s the most difficult thing I’ve ever done in my life.’
She laughed as she moved away.
‘Then I’ll not stand too close. You know, Brian, Brenda is going to be shocked. I think she and Freda decided some time ago that you had gay tendencies.’
He rubbed the front of his trousers, a rueful expression on his face.
‘I think you can reassure them on that point. Now go to bed, Amy, before I change my mind.’
‘So you can’t be tempted?’ A wicked gleam was in her eyes.
‘Yes, I can. That’s why I’m saying go to bed. I’ll bring you a hot chocolate if you like. I’ll stand in the doorway and throw it to you.’
‘Okay,’ she said and slowly began to unbutton her blouse, one button at a time. She climbed the stairs knowing he was watching every movement. At the top it fell from her shoulders and she heard him groan. She turned around and snapped open the front fastening of her bra. From that distance she heard the sharp intake of his breath.
‘Hot chocolate,’ she called with a laugh. ‘Put bromide in yours.’
‘So what do you really think?’
Freda shook her head.
‘I don’t know. I mean, I do like Brian but I thought you said he was gay.’
‘If he’s marrying Amy, he can’t be gay, can he?’ Brenda looked puzzled.
‘You two sound like a pair of old hens,’ Ken said with a chuckle from his armchair.
‘Well, clever clogs, do you think he’s gay?’
‘When I lived in Rotherham, I knew a couple of gays. We called ‘em queers, not gays. But no, I don’t think Brian Lazenby’s got a homosexual bone in his body. Just because he’s quiet and well-mannered, and he’s not been married before, none of that means anything. That’s probably what’s appealed to Amy.’
