by Graham West
“It’s not Darren trashing the graves.”
“I didn’t really think it was,” he replied. He looked concerned, and Jenny began to regret getting so angry. “But it’s not about what he might be doing, is it? It’s about what he’s done.”
Maybe this wasn’t the right time to repeat Amelia’s words. An embrace might lead to other things, and while she didn’t want to fight, she wasn’t up to making love, either. “Fancy watching one of those weepy movies?” she suggested, picking up the remote.
Jake shrugged. “Sure. Let’s cry over someone else’s misfortune.”
Jenny flicked through the channels. All the familiar titles were there, but after a couple of minutes she realised that maybe the late night news programme was sad enough. There were kids with bellies like balloons drinking water from ditches, young people holed up in cities that looked like bombsites, wondering if the next explosion might blow them out of their miserable existence.
Jake returned and handed her a mug of coffee. He rolled his eyes. “Can we watch something else? This shit just makes me angry.”
Jenny continued flicking through the channels. “There’s a documentary about a family moving to Australia—fancy that?”
Jake nodded. “Yeah, why not. I wouldn’t mind a couple of years down under.”
Right then, the idea appealed to Jenny too. She leaned back, sipping her coffee, as familiar images of Sidney Harbour, the opera house and the Blue Mountains flashed up on the screen. They could always dream that they were there, just for a few weeks. She glanced at her phone, wondering what Darren was up to. Probably licking his wounds or drowning his sorrows. She would message him tomorrow and put his mind at rest. But tonight, they were with the Jackson family, settling down to a new life by the harbour.
***
Darren pulled on a work top, catching his reflection in the bedroom mirror. A pale complexion and bloodshot eyes. It wasn’t a good look, but was the best he could manage after only an hour’s sleep. He would have loved to have given Jake what’s-his-name a good smack and tell him to stay the fuck out of his business. What right did that prick have to come threatening him? He had found the message from her last night: My fiancé is meeting you! Abort! He appreciated the warning, but why had Jenny hooked up with a guy like that in the first place?
Harry handed him a mug of coffee. “Holy shit, lad. You look dog rough! What happened?”
Darren wasn’t up to sharing. “Rough night. Must be coming down with something,” he grunted, taking a sip of boiling liquid that burned his lips.
“So who was this mate? The one you were meeting last night?”
Darren shrugged. “An arsehole, basically.”
Harry raised his eyebrows. “Oh really? Why?”
“He was just a bit weird.” Darren looked up at his uncle. “Not being funny or anything, I just don’t wanna talk about it.”
His uncle shrugged. “Okay, but I’m here if you do want to tell me something.”
“Like what?”
“This was a bloke you met? Right?”
“I’m not gay, if that’s what you’re getting at!”
“Hey! I couldn’t give a shit. I’m broad minded. I went out with a girl who turned out to be scissor sister—she just liked blokes too!”
“A scissor sister?”
A mischievous smile crept across his uncle’s face. “Look it up!” He took a swig of lukewarm coffee. “Anyway, we had a threesome once, me and her mate—”
“Okay!” Darren interrupted, “I get it. No need to paint a picture! But I like girls. Just girls!”
Harry looked like he was still lost in his thoughts. “Never forgotten that night,” he mused, draining his mug. “But those days are long gone. Too old, too fat.” He shrugged. “Couldn’t pull a muscle, these days!” He stared at Darren. “But you—you could get any girl you wanted, so get yourself out there!”
His uncle was certainly nothing like his father. Uncouth and with little ambition. But Darren found himself feeling brighter. He was young, and yes, he could probably get himself a girl eventually, providing he didn’t mention what he’d been up to for the past couple of years. Not on the first date, at least. But all he wanted right then was a sister; he wanted Jenny. And now some thug called Jake was casting a dark shadow over his dreams.
By the time he reached the back street garage he’d decided to message Jake and make some kind of deal. He’d just have to work out what he was going to say during the day. His phone buzzed ten minutes into the first oil change. It was a notification. Jenny Helen. His heart quickened.
Darren. Jake is only trying to protect me! He’s a good man, and we talked. All cool. I’ll message you tonight.
A kiss would have been good, but that wasn’t important. He felt elated. Jenny wasn’t done with him. She still wanted to give him a chance. Darren punched the air and then tapped onto her profile picture. I have a sister, he thought. And she is as fit as— He stopped himself. There was a line to be drawn, right there, and he knew he had to draw it now.
Chapter Forty-Six
“Best if I drive.” Penny Blakely shot her husband a look that told him she hadn’t forgotten how they’d ended up in the hospital in the first place. She waited for him to buckle up and then started the engine. “You feeling okay? No dizziness or anything?”
Dennis Blakely shook his head. “I’m good, thanks. Just a bit sore.” He glanced at his wife, whose gaze was fixed on the road ahead, both hands gripping the wheel in the standard ten–to-two position, a habit that had remained with her since the day she’d passed her driving test. “You got my phone?” he asked. “I need to call my father.”
Penny winced visibly. “You can have it when we get back. I’ve deleted all the pictures of Kim, just in case you go looking for them.”
Blakely turned cold at the mention of her name. “I won’t.”
“And the fanny video’s gone, too.”
“Okay.”
Penny pulled up at the first set of traffic lights and turned. “I can wipe them off your phone, Dennis, but I can’t wipe them from up here.” She tapped her temple. “I can still see you with your head between her legs, I can still hear her giggling as she videoed it all on the phone that I bought you—”
“I’m sorry.”
“But are you? Really? Would you have stopped if she hadn’t died?”
Blakely nodded. “I made a mistake. I wanted you!”
“Yes, but could you have given her up? She had a hold on you, Dennis, and the moment she dropped her knickers you would have folded again!”
“I wouldn’t!”
Penny swung the car right, heading back to The Lakeside. “You say that, but I’ll never know, will I? So I’ll just have to trust you. It’s going to take some time. That’s why I’m going to rent a place in Tabwell. You can give up that hotel room.”
“What?”
“I’ve spoken to your father. There’s a place two miles out of town. He’s agreed to charge it to the company.”
“What about our house?”
“My sister said she’ll look after it.”
Blakely nodded. Everything was changing. He was married, and his wife wasn’t going to let him forget. Kim was his first mistake—and his last.
“That’s great,” he said, patting his wife’s leg.
Penny still stared, unblinking, at the road ahead. “I wish I’d never seen all that shit on your phone, Dennis, but I have, and this is the only way I can deal with it. I need commitment.” Blakely heard the crack in her voice. “I should make you pay—make you sleep on the floor. But I can’t!” A tear ran down her cheek. “I want you to want me—the way you wanted her.”
“I do! I do want you!” The lump rose in his throat again.
Penny turned, taking her eyes off the road ahead. “I hope so, Dennis. Because all this crap has just made me realise that I can’t live without you.”
Blakely felt the weight of his guilt. His wife, normally so strong, looked frightene
d and vulnerable, a broken woman fighting to keep her head above the murky waters he had stirred. Her trust had been shattered, and there was nothing he could do but become the man she had always believed him to be.
They pulled up at The Lakeside. Penny killed the engine and turned to face him. “I’m sorry about your head,” she said with a weary smile.
Blakely shrugged. “I deserved it. But I don’t deserve you. I don’t deserve a second chance, and from now on, we stick together. No more living apart. I promise.”
Penny’s eyes flooded. “How about we go to our room and make some new videos?” she suggested without the merest trace of a smile.
Blakely wondered if he was hearing things. “What? Is that what you want? I mean really want?”
His wife fixed him with a look. “It’s exactly what I want!”
She reached for his hand as they walked through the hotel lounge. “You can call your father later,” she whispered. “Tell him you’re busy making babies!”
***
Jenny found Jake sitting in the lounge in his work clothes sifting through the morning mail drop. “More junk?” she asked, breezing past. Jake didn’t answer. He was too busy studying a letter.
“Anything interesting?”
He looked up. “It’s a letter from some Cottage Homes magazine. They’re interested in doing a feature on us.”
Jenny peered over his shoulder. Cottage Homes. A Green Emblem of three leaves decorated the left hand corner of the page. “A feature on us?”
“Well, it’s the cottage they’re interested in, obviously. They come round and interview us, take some photos, that kind of thing.”
Jenny fancied a slice of recognition. “Hey, this could be our fifteen minutes of fame. Not that I’m bothered about stuff like that, but if it’s there on a plate…”
Jake grinned. “Hell yeah! Lord and Lady of the manor!”
Jenny took a can from the fridge and snapped the ring pull. “How did they find out about us?”
“Dunno. It wouldn’t be difficult—probably got a couple of researchers on the staff. They’ve just addressed it to The Occupiers.”
“So what do we have to do?”
Jake glanced back at the letter. “I’ve got to call their office and they arrange for someone to call for an initial interview.”
Jenny pictured herself in a new outfit, posing in front of the cottage. Jake read her thoughts. “Don’t get too excited. That’s when they decide if they want to go ahead.”
“But why wouldn’t they?” Jenny asked, looking around the room.
Jake gave her one of those condescending looks she hated. “Because they’ve never seen the inside—it mightn’t be what they’re looking for.”
Jenny shrugged. “It’s a formality. They’re gonna absolutely love it.”
“I’m only on a half day today—you want me to call them?”
“Yeah, sure. But I want a new dress.” Jenny ruffled Jake’s hair. “And if they send a girl round, you could do your topless stuff.”
She ducked his playful side swipe. “Maybe you could get your boobs out, then. Make us some real cash.”
Jenny giggled. The possibility of appearing in a glossy monthly cheered her up. “You definitely gonna ring them today?”
Jake nodded. “Yeah, definitely. I’ll see if they can do a weekend.”
Jenny wondered if she should go for the country look or just splash the cash on a figure-hugging black number. She’d buy a few copies, maybe place one or two in the college rest room for her mates to find.
“Don’t go bragging to anyone,” Jake warned her as she grabbed her portfolio from the hallway. “Just in case they decide not to run with it.”
Jenny grinned. No one was going to rain on her parade—not today. “Hey, we’re young, I’m good-looking, and the place is perfect!”
Jake laughed. “Okay, I admit, I think they’ll love it too. Just keep it under your hat, for now. Let’s surprise everyone.”
That suited Jenny. Of course, she would have to tell her dad, although she guessed that this would be something Gordon Huxley was going to enjoy a whole lot more than him.
***
Jake waited patiently on the end of the line listening to a piece of light classical music. He’d been on hold for just over a minute when a very well-spoken gentleman answered. “Hello, Mark Travis speaking.”
Jake thought how typically British he sounded and imagined him sitting in his brogues and a dicky bow. “Hi, my name’s Jake Huxley,” he began. “We have a letter from you—you might be interested in featuring our cottage.”
“Oh yes? Could you give me the reference? It’s in the top left.”
“It’s CPF48GTH.”
“Excellent. Just give me a moment.”
Jake listened to the tapping sound over the hum of office conversations in the background.
“Ah, yes. Eighteen Holland House Lane. A lovely looking property. You’re very lucky, Mr. Huxley.”
The conversation was brief. The magazine would send someone round on Saturday morning at 11:30 a.m. Jake slipped the phone back in his pocket and glanced around the lounge, wondering if there was anything he could do to improve it. A picture on the far wall, perhaps? A vase of fresh flowers on the hearth?
He slung his work bag over his shoulder and closed the front door behind him. The front lawn could do with a cut, and they’d have to lock the dogs up. Jake took one last look at the cottage before he drove off. It was perfect, Jenny was right. They were going to be in a magazine—not bad for a labouring lad from a council estate. Maybe he’d hit the gym hard for a couple of weeks. There was nothing wrong with making an effort.
It was the first thing he told his father, who was busy debating the position of light switches with a flustered electrician. “Hey, kid! That’s great news. I could pop in, you know? When they do the piece?”
Jake hesitated. He wasn’t keen on sharing the limelight.
Gordon Huxley laughed. “Just joking, son. Enjoy your moment of fame. You deserve it. You both do.” The smile faded from his face. “Listen,” he said, lowering his voice. “Jenny told me about this thing with Darren.”
Jake always felt uneasy when his father got serious. “What do you mean?”
“Jenny’s a good kid. You won’t find a better girl. Just don’t fuck the whole thing up!”
“It’s okay, Dad. I just warned him.”
Gordon Huxley frowned. “Warned him?”
“Yeah. I told him to stay away from Jenny.”
His father looked horrified. “You did what?”
“It’s okay. Jen and I have sorted it. I’ve agreed to back off, so don’t start preaching, okay?”
Jake took a step back, but Gordon Huxley took his son’s wrist in a grip like a vice. “Listen, son, I’ve thought about this long and hard. I can’t stand that kid, and I wouldn’t care if he walked under a bus tomorrow, but if that girl of yours can find it in her heart to forgive him, then I’d say that makes her a saint! So a bit of support wouldn’t go amiss, or else you’re gonna find yourself rattling around that fancy cottage on your own.”
Jake pulled his arm away angrily. “You were on my side the other day!”
His father nodded. “I was. But, like I said, I’ve given it some thought. It’s not about how we feel—it’s how Jenny feels. Don’t fight her, Jake. You’ve got too much to lose.”
Chapter Forty-Seven
Darren Pascoe sat in the corner of the café waiting for his phone to vibrate. The doubts were creeping in again. Jenny was sure to cancel. She’d back out at the last minute with some lame excuse, and he’d never set eyes on her again. His uncle was as wily as he was untidy and had caught him scrolling through the pictures on Jenny’s home page.
Maybe if he hadn’t got so defensive, Harry wouldn’t have suspected anything, but it was too late now. “Listen, lad,” he said, “she’s an attractive girl, but if you’re starting to get the hots for her, you’d best back off now, cos it’s gonna get real m
essy. I’m warning you!”
“Don’t be disgusting. She’s my sister!”
“That don’t mean nuthin’, lad. Not when you haven’t grown up together!”
“She’s my own flesh and blood!”
Harry shook his head. “Be honest, Daz. If that girl walked in butt-naked, you’re tellin’ me you wouldn’t get a hard-on?”
Now he was wondering if Jenny was going to see what his uncle had seen. That look in his eyes. Girls picked up on stuff like that. Maybe he should play it cool—make sure he didn’t pay her any compliments. That’s if she turned up at all.
His thoughts were interrupted. “Darren?”
He looked up. It was her. Jenny, the fit sister. She was wearing a skirt; it wasn’t exactly a mini but it was short enough to make him blink and look away quickly.
“Hi!” he said, feeling the heat in his face. “Are you okay?”
Jenny slid into the seat opposite. “Look, I’m sorry about Jake. He’s just overprotective.”
“It’s okay. I understand. I’d feel the same if I was him.” Darren’s face was burning so fiercely he could have heated the whole café.
“Are you okay?” Jenny asked, frowning. “You look kind of—well, hot.”
Darren forced a weak smile. “I’m fine. Just…”
“Worried?”
“Kind of.”
Jenny leaned forward. “Look, I’m taking this really slow, okay? It’s not going to be easy, and providing you don’t push things, then I figure we just might be able to rub along.”
Darren’s heart was racing. He wanted to lean over and kiss her. He wanted to feel those lips touch his own. His uncle was right. This was too hard, and the words fell out of his mouth before he had a chance to stop them. “Maybe it’s not such a good idea.”
Jenny stared at him, confusion in her eyes. “What? Why?”
“Because you’re beautiful!” he said with a gasp that he knew would reveal more than the words he uttered.
Jenny looked uneasy. “Well, thanks…but—what?”
Darren stood, draining the last mouthful from his glass of fresh orange. “You’re too fit. It’s weird. I’m sorry!”
