The Man I Fell in Love With

by Kate Field

  Mum stared at him. I stared at him. He was still bare-footed, but now bare-chested too: standing in my kitchen, wearing nothing but a pair of jeans, rubbing a towel over his damp hair. Though he’d worn less on the beach, it was different here – more intimate, and with more impact when everyone else was fully dressed. My kitchen had never seen a sight like this before. And what a sight! He was a truly beautiful man. He knew it. I knew it, despite my best efforts not to. And every woman in the world knew it too – I had to remember that, before my imagination swept me away, persuaded me that there was something more meaningful in his behaviour than his usual teasing charm. Even if he hadn’t been Leo’s brother, my children’s uncle, I couldn’t allow myself to fall in love with this man. He could never be loyal, could he? I had known him too long to believe it. One day he would receive a better offer and leave, just like my dad had left Mum and me; just like Leo had left me. I doubted I could survive it a third time.

  ‘Can I stick my T-shirt in the tumble dryer for ten minutes?’ Ethan gave his hair a final rub, and dropped the towel over the back of one of the kitchen chairs. ‘I’d borrow one of Joe’s, but it might be a tight fit.’

  Of course it would be a tight fit. Jonas was a typical lanky teenager. Ethan had the body of a man, and a chest that was broad and muscular, and that would be solid and warm to the touch. Touch! Why was I even thinking such a thing? I stepped forward and snatched the T-shirt from his hand.

  ‘I’ll do it. Why don’t you go and watch TV? I’ll bring it when it’s ready.’

  He nodded and wandered off to the living room. His back was almost more attractive than his chest: the deep groove of his spine trailing from wide shoulders to a narrow waist, practically inviting a finger to trail down it.

  ‘Mary? Mary!’ I turned back to Mum. ‘I hope you know what you’re doing.’

  ‘I should do. I’ve used the tumble dryer about a million times.’

  ‘You know very well that’s not what I meant.’ Mum picked up Ethan’s abandoned towel and folded it – a scarily familiar action. ‘People will talk.’

  ‘About me using the tumble dryer?’

  ‘About you carrying on with Ethan. Replacing one brother with another, in a matter of months …’ She touched my arm – a scarily unfamiliar gesture. ‘I know it’s hard being on your own, and I’m not blind to why you might be tempted. But think of the consequences … The children have had enough upheaval with their father turning homosexual. And now their uncle might become their father? What if it all goes wrong? You’ll tear this family apart. You have to give him up, for the children’s sake.’

  ‘There’s nothing to give up. Ethan would never think of me in that way. He still treats me as the slightly aggravating girl-next-door, ripe for teasing. Don’t read more into it. He was caught in the rain tonight, that’s all.’

  ‘That’s far from all. I know you better than you realise.’

  ‘And I’m better at resisting temptation than you realise.’

  ‘I hope you’re right.’ Mum looked at me, worry lines deeply scored across her forehead. ‘The survival of this family could depend on it.’

  Ethan’s T-shirt was still damp after a quick spin in the tumble dryer, but I returned it to him anyway: the sooner he had his clothes on, the better. I found him sprawled on the sofa, an adoring Dotty at his side.

  ‘Has Irene gone?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes.’ Gone without ever explaining why she had come over. I wondered what she’d wanted to talk about. It was too late now – I wasn’t following her home and subjecting myself to another lecture.

  ‘Have you eaten?’ I shook my head. Ethan jumped up. ‘Great. Let’s go to the pub. It’s the least I can do after the chilli disaster.’

  ‘It’s fine. I’ll grab a sandwich.’

  ‘After a day’s painting? That’s not enough. Come on.’ He was already nudging me out of the door. ‘I’m starving. If you’re not ready in ten minutes I’ll come up and drag you down.’

  I was back in five minutes, having changed out of my painting clothes, and resolutely refused to put on any make-up or perfume. This wasn’t a date. I didn’t need to make any effort. I was only going along with the idea because … Well, I couldn’t really think of any convincing reason, other than that Ethan wasn’t going to give up, and if he was determined to keep me company, it would be better in the pub than home alone. Surely Mum couldn’t argue with that?

  The rain had stopped, but dampness hung in the air, and we hurried to the closest of the village pubs, the Hale & Hearty. The pub was in a gorgeous position overlooking the pond on the village green, and was a quirky-shaped building, rising and falling in different storeys, like an athletes’ podium. I hadn’t been in the pub for years, as even with a glut of babysitters to hand, Leo had preferred to stay at home. I hadn’t minded. The place reminded me too much of my dad. He had been a regular here, out with the boys every Friday night, and sneaking in at other times too. It had been our secret: he would tell Mum that we were going to the village play area, but after a few goes on the swings and the roundabout, we’d end up in the Hearty. I would sit on my stool, clutching a lemonade with bendy straw, watching the customers flock around, listening to conversations I didn’t understand, and knowing that I had the funniest, handsomest, most popular daddy in the world.

  Ethan’s smile chased away the ghosts that flapped around me as I hesitated outside. He held the door open and I stepped in, coming to an abrupt halt as I slammed into a fug of noise, cooking smells, and warm air. The place was packed, every table occupied as far as I could see.

  ‘What’s going on?’ I asked, as heads swivelled in our direction then away again, as if we were the wrong arrivals at a surprise party.

  ‘There’s a band on tonight.’ Ethan pointed to a poster on the back of the door. ‘I didn’t realise. Do you want to stay or come back to the cottage?’

  ‘Stay.’ I didn’t have high hopes for a band called Status Hoe, but I was sticking with my theory that there was safety in numbers, and even terrible music would distract me from memories of a certain naked chest.

  We squeezed our way between the crowded tables to the bar, which ran in a long straight line across the three-storey section of the pub. There were a couple of young women serving, but an elderly man approached to take our order. I recognised him at once as Frank, the landlord who had been in charge in my dad’s day.

  ‘Well, aren’t you the sight for sore eyes, Mary love,’ he said, looking me up and down and beaming at me. ‘We’ve not seen you in here for donkey’s years. I take it you’ll be wanting more than lemonade nowadays?’

  ‘Red wine please.’

  ‘No bendy straw?’

  I smiled and shook my head. Ethan ordered a pint, and as Frank bustled off down the bar to find an open bottle, he lowered his head to speak in my ear.

  ‘What did he mean that you’ve not been here for years? Not travelling the world is one thing, but could you not even have made it to the local pub? Did Leo never take you anywhere?’

  I spun round, hackles ready to rise.

  ‘Don’t start criticising Leo again.’

  ‘I’m not. But you were meant to have a rich and fulfilling life. He promised …’

  I turned back to the bar, ignoring whatever Ethan was saying. Something had caught my eye as I spun round. I scoured the packed shelves, past the dozen or so bottles of speciality gin, past the Amontillado collection and the Jack Daniels, past the group of vile coloured spirits which I presumed I was too old to drink … and then I saw it on the bottom row, in a prime position as if it were frequently used and so needed to be on hand. I clutched the thick brass rail that ran across the front of the bar.

  ‘Mary? What’s wrong?’

  Ethan put his hand over mine, and rubbed my white knuckles with his thumb.

  ‘My dad,’ I said. ‘That’s his special Guinness tankard behind the bar. He brought it over from Ireland. He said he could taste the craic when he used it.’

  Fr
ank put our drinks down on the bar.

  ‘The tankard? Aye, it is like Eamonn’s, you’re right, love. But this one belongs to one of our regulars.’ Frank picked up the tankard and moved it into a cupboard. ‘These drinks are on the house. It’s grand to see you again, Mary.’

  ‘Sure you’re okay?’ Ethan asked.

  I nodded, though I wasn’t really. My house no longer reminded me of Dad – it was Leo who haunted me there. But this place hadn’t changed since I had last visited and my dad was everywhere.

  I hadn’t noticed that Ethan had slipped his arm round me until it was jerked off as the elder Miss Tippett squeezed into a non-existent gap between us.

  ‘What are you doing to our Mary?’ she asked, bristling in Ethan’s direction. ‘Isn’t it about time you were heading back to America? Over familiar,’ she mouthed, leaning in towards me.

  ‘I’m here for a few more weeks yet.’

  Ethan smiled, undaunted by the bristling.

  ‘Weeks?’ I repeated. ‘Have your six months almost gone?’

  ‘Four of them.’ He grinned. ‘Will you miss me?’

  I would – I couldn’t deny that my first reaction was disappointment. He had slipped back into our lives as if he’d never been away, and I couldn’t think what life would be like without him. Or perhaps I could – it would be dull and predictable and beige. Much like the last twenty years, a devilish little voice whispered in my head.

  ‘Have you met your mother’s fancy man yet?’ Miss Tippett asked, turning her back on Ethan. ‘I heard he’s never away.’

  ‘He seems keen, but I’ve not been introduced yet.’

  ‘I’ll have a word. It’s time.’ She shuffled off towards the table where I could see her sister and a few of the older residents, but then looked back. ‘And we’ll have none of that sweetcorn next time. Plays havoc with my bowels.’

  ‘I’m in danger of knowing more about her bodily functions than mine.’ Ethan passed me my glass of wine. ‘Why is Irene being so secretive? Is there something wrong with him? Have you not seen him at all?’

  ‘Only a glimpse of dark hair in the window.’

  ‘Not grey? Well there’s your answer. She has a younger man. Perhaps she needed the stamina of youth to help her make up for lost time …’

  ‘Stop it!’ I laughed. ‘I don’t want to hear any lurid speculation about my mum’s sex life.’

  ‘Spoilsport.’ He smiled, and I marvelled at how easily he had shaken me out of my gloomy mood. What would I do without him? ‘Shall we sit down? We could squeeze onto the table in the corner with the group from Foxwood Farm.’

  With his hand on my back, Ethan steered me over to the table. The Foxwood Farm group were here tonight to support the band, as Beryl the cleaner was married to one of the members. My heart sank a little at that news, expecting that we would all have to pretend the music was fabulous even if it felt like our ears were being stabbed with razor blades. But no pretence was necessary. It didn’t look promising when a bunch of middle-aged men in gardening clothes shambled on to the makeshift stage, but as soon as they started playing and singing, the crowd was hooked.

  They were well into their third song, an inventive reworking of a Madonna classic, when Daisy walked into the pub. I hadn’t seen her since dropping Chloe off at the weekend, and I rose from my seat.

  ‘There’s Daisy,’ I said and waved to get her attention through the crowd so she could join us. She didn’t notice me, too busy laughing and talking to someone behind her. ‘Oh, there’s Owen.’ This was going to be awkward – I couldn’t imagine Ethan was going to welcome him to our table. I was committed now, though, and carried on waving. Daisy turned and looked at me – just at the moment that I realised she was holding Owen’s hand.

  I sat down with a thump on the bench. Ethan shifted beside me, as if he’d half risen to see what was going on, and then swore. He reached down and grasped my hand.

  ‘You didn’t know?’

  I shook my head.

  ‘Were you still …’

  ‘Obviously not.’ I hadn’t seen Owen since my return from Cornwall. I’d sent him a text, to let him know I was back, but when he hadn’t replied I assumed he must have gone away. How ridiculously vain to imagine that he had been waiting for me all this time! I ducked my head, humiliation weighing heavily on my shoulders. What a middle-aged fool I was.

  Ethan squeezed my hand and I looked up to find Daisy at my side.

  ‘Mary, please can I speak to you?’ Her voice quavered, and tears swam in her eyes. I nodded and followed her to the ladies’, the only quiet place we could find.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Daisy said, as soon as the door was shut behind us, and she had checked the cubicles were empty. ‘You must think I’m a total bitch.’

  ‘How long have you been seeing him?’

  ‘Only since I came back from St Ives. It’s early days. It might not even work out. He might discover I’m boring as hell, like James did, and ditch me for an exciting young trollop with knockers the size of rugby balls …’

  Tears were trickling down her cheeks by this point, and I couldn’t bear it. I pulled her into a hug.

  ‘He won’t. Owen’s not like that.’ Daisy sobbed again, and I kicked myself for reminding her that I’d spent enough time with him to know that. ‘You know, don’t you, that nothing serious ever happened between me and Owen?’

  She nodded, and popped into one of the cubicles to fetch some toilet roll, which she used to mop her eyes and blow her nose.

  ‘I would never have stolen him if I thought you were genuinely interested. But you didn’t seem that keen. You showed more interest in Ethan than in Owen!’ She gave a shaky laugh, which I couldn’t return. Was that true? I would have to be more careful. ‘When we spoke in Cornwall, about what we wanted from a relationship, you didn’t mention Owen at all. I honestly thought it was over. So did Owen.’

  ‘It’s fine,’ I said. ‘It was over.’ No need to tell her that I had tried to rekindle it. Owen clearly hadn’t told her about my text, and neither would I. ‘I hope it works out for you.’

  Bizarrely, that set Daisy off again.

  ‘Don’t be so nice to me. You have every right to be furious. And after Leo as well … I feel terrible doing this to you for the second time.’

  ‘Owen was a rebound thing, that’s all, just to get used to the idea of dating again. It wouldn’t have developed.’ I said the words to make Daisy feel better, but they worked on me too. Was that the truth? Had I never stood a chance of falling in love with Owen? Too late to find out now. But my lack of heartfelt disappointment was enough of an answer. What was wrong with me? If I couldn’t fall for a straightforward, decent man, what hope was there? I was in danger of sobbing more than Daisy.

  Someone came into the bathroom.

  ‘Let’s tidy you up and go back,’ I said. There was nothing more to say. I wasn’t going to argue with Daisy. Losing one best friend was unfortunate; losing two within the space of a year was unthinkable. ‘Was he there?’ I asked, remembering Daisy’s odd behaviour last time we met. ‘Was he at your house when I dropped Chloe off?’

  ‘Yes. I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to find out like that.’

  ‘Because as Leo has already proved, finding out in public is so much better …’ It was too soon for joking. Daisy’s newly restored face crumbled again. I squeezed her hand. ‘It’s a relief. I thought I must have done something to upset you.’

  Our sentimental hug was ruined by a Niagara Falls of urine splashing into the toilet bowl. We giggled and returned to the pub, Daisy joining Owen while I found my seat next to Ethan. He studied my face but said nothing – a response so unexpected, but so perfectly in tune with what I wanted, that those pesky tears prickled my eyes again, threatening to spill.

  We stayed in the pub until closing time, long after Daisy and Owen had finished their drinks and gone, with an awkward nod in my direction.

  ‘I’m walking you home,’ Ethan said, and I didn’t argue. I wasn’t a
fraid of the dark, or of being on my own, but his chatter would distract me for a while longer from thoughts of Owen, and what a mess I’d made there. My imagination had leapt forward through time, and crashed into giant obstacles. What would happen if he married Daisy? How could I go on seeing her, knowing that her husband had been on intimate terms with my breasts?

  ‘Do you want coffee?’ I asked, as we passed Mum’s twitching curtains and reached my front door. Ethan checked his watch.

  ‘Better not. I’m meeting the village running group at eight in the morning for a 10k run.’ There was a village running group? I’d lived in Stoneybrook my entire life and not discovered that. Ethan shifted so the light above the front door left him in shadow. ‘I’m sorry that tonight wasn’t the fun I’d planned. The chilli, the teacher …’

  I sensed rather than saw his shrug.

  ‘It wasn’t your fault.’

  ‘He was never good enough for you. Do you want me to challenge him to a duel? I reckon I could have him.’

  I laughed, but the sound turned into a sob. It had been an emotional night, and Ethan’s kindness finally caused some rogue tears to fall.

  ‘No duelling necessary,’ I said. ‘My honour and my heart are quite intact. And how can I be cross with him for preferring Daisy? She’s gorgeous, and warm and kind.’

  ‘But she’s not you, Mary Black.’ And Ethan reached out and wiped a tear from my cheek, leaving a trail of fire in its wake before he walked away.

  Chapter 22

  Life returned to normal. Audrey and Ava arrived back from Cornwall; Jonas came home. And I shut my mind to the memory of Ethan’s touch on my cheek, and to the knowledge that with every passing day his time in England was running out.

  PTA meetings started again: we had a busy time ahead, preparing for the annual bonfire and fireworks display. Owen and Daisy appeared together as a couple at the first meeting; she had offered to sit on the opposite side of the room from him, to save my feelings, but I’d assured her that wasn’t necessary. I was dreading the gossip, but it was best to get it over with so we could concentrate on more important matters.