by Heidi Swain
‘Hence the holiday?’
‘Hence the holiday,’ I nodded. ‘In part.’
‘Seems like we have quite a lot in common, Tess, doesn’t it?’ He pointed out, filling my cup again.
‘We certainly do,’ I agreed.
‘And I have to admit,’ he said, taking another slice of cake even though he had only minutes before sworn that he was fit to burst, ‘I was wondering how you could possibly manage to take so much time out. Six weeks is a long time, but if Dad’s the boss . . .’
‘He’s not doing me a favour,’ I shot back, feeling defensive. ‘It’s not nepotism, if that’s what you’re thinking. I work bloody hard for the company, and I haven’t had a proper break in years. I’m only taking the time I’m owed.’
Joe put up his hands in surrender.
‘All right,’ he said, ‘sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it.’
‘I just hate it when people assume that I’ve had handed to me on a plate,’ I said bluntly, picking up my cup. ‘I started out as the tea girl, just like everyone else.’
‘Even the boys?’
‘You know what I mean,’ I said, still feeling annoyed. ‘I’m just taking my holiday entitlement in one go, that’s all.’
‘Fair enough,’ said Joe, ‘I guess you’re lucky to have a boss who will let you.’
‘I didn’t actually give him much choice,’ I pointed out. ‘And anyway, we’re supposed to be talking about you. You promised you’d tell me what the beef is between you and Sam.’
I had reckoned it was going to be all about Hope, but when Joe suggested moving into the conservatory, where it was quieter, I wasn’t so sure.
‘Sam and I used to be best friends,’ he began as soon as we were settled. ‘We’d more or less much grown up together, having gone to the same schools, but things changed when we hit our teenage years.’
So, it was likely that Sam had been around when I used to holiday in Wynmouth. I wished I could have remembered him as clearly as I did Joe.
‘In what way?’
Joe shrugged, his shoulders hunched.
‘I suppose you could say I was a bit of a rebel,’ he said ruefully. ‘Got myself into a bit of trouble around the village and upset the locals, whereas Sam never put so much as a toe out of line. We were still friendly, we still talked to each other, but we had different mates.’
‘But surely you can’t still be holding on to all that now?’ I frowned. ‘That all happened years ago, didn’t it?’
‘Yes, but that’s not the whole story.’
‘Oh,’ I said. ‘Go on then.’
Joe ran his hands through his hair and looked me straight in the eye. I couldn’t fathom his expression, but I suddenly realized I wasn’t going to like what I was going to hear and I didn’t think it was going to be anything about Hope after all.
‘One night,’ he continued, pulling in and then letting out the biggest breath, ‘just after Sam had passed his driving test, Jack and I found ourselves in need of a lift.’
‘And who is Jack?’ I asked.
‘My little brother,’ Joe swallowed. ‘We’d missed the last bus back to the village and we couldn’t afford a taxi. I knew Dad would go spare if I called him or Charlie so I asked Sam to come and get us.’
‘And did he?’
‘He did,’ Joe said, ‘but he wasn’t happy. He hadn’t had much experience of night driving and wasn’t keen on having to rescue me of all people.’
‘What happened?’ I whispered.
‘The car left the road on the journey back,’ Joe choked, ‘and ploughed into a tree.’
‘Jesus.’
‘I was in the back,’ he went on, closing his eyes and no doubt picturing the dreadful scene. ‘Somehow I managed to smash my way through the rear window and drag myself out. Then I pulled out Jack and Sam. I got them out of the way just before the whole thing went up in flames.’
A strangled sob crept up and out before I could stop it.
‘But Jack was already dead,’ Joe sobbed, ‘and Sam . . .’
‘Lost his leg,’ I whispered.
Joe nodded and sniffed, roughly brushing away his tears.
‘I’m so sorry, Joe.’ I said. ‘I’m so, so sorry.’
As hard as I tried not to, I couldn’t stop myself from picturing the horror of the scene, the grotesque sights and sounds that Joe must have witnessed.
‘So that’s why things felt a bit tense in the pub the other night,’ he eventually said, sounding a little more in control. ‘That was the first time we’ve seen each other in a very long time.’
‘I see.’
I couldn’t imagine how that moment had felt for either of the two men. Had I been in Joe’s shoes there was no way I would have crossed the pub threshold, but he must have had his reasons. Maybe he thought it was time to move on. I wanted to ask but couldn’t bring myself to and I didn’t mention the situation with Hope either.
‘The crash was the reason why I left Wynmouth,’ he carried on. ‘I couldn’t cope with being there and I couldn’t bear to see the state Jack’s death left Mum and Dad in.’
‘Was Sam charged?’
‘No,’ said Joe, shifting in his seat. ‘He was in a coma for months and I was such a wreck, I couldn’t be sure . . .’
His words trailed off and he stood up.
‘Sorry,’ he said, striding off. ‘I’ll be back in a minute.’
‘Of course,’ I said. ‘Take your time.’
There were so many questions flying around my head as Joe drove us back to Wynmouth, not least whether alcohol had been involved the night of the crash. Was that why Sam never took a drink, even though he ran the only pub in the village? But I didn’t ask. Joe had shared more than enough for one day. He must have been exhausted; I know I was.
‘I’m sorry the afternoon ended so sadly,’ I said, as Joe pulled up outside the cottage and I noticed that the pub was shut. ‘I hope you haven’t felt forced into telling me.’
‘Not at all,’ he said. ‘I wanted you to know.’
I nodded and undid my seatbelt.
‘Okay,’ I said, ‘and thank you for the tea. It was wonderful, as was the house and gardens. I can see why your mum loved it there so much.’
‘It was my pleasure.’ He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.
Not surprisingly, he looked pale and a little drawn.
‘It was all exactly as I remembered it,’ he said softly, ‘and it was a treat to see it all again.’
I went to open the passenger door.
‘Here,’ he said, jumping out before I had the chance to say I could manage, ‘let me get that.’
‘Thank you, Joe.’
‘So,’ he asked, offering me a hand so I could climb out without my dress riding up, ‘what are your plans for tomorrow night? Saturday nights in Wynmouth aren’t exactly buzzing, are they?’
I knew he was making a big effort to end the afternoon on a happier note and I played along.
‘Oh, mine’s going to be wild,’ I said, ‘there’s this kitsch jigsaw featuring kittens in a basket in the cottage and it’s been calling me practically since the moment I arrived.’
Joe laughed. It was good to hear.
‘Sod that,’ he said, handing me my bag. ‘I think we should have a proper night out. Are you up for a wild night on the tiles?’
‘Really?’
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I need to kick up my heels.’
‘Kick up your heels?’ I laughed. ‘Who says that?’
‘Me,’ he said, ‘apparently. So, are you up for it?’
Meeting my first kiss again, and discovering I had quite a lot in common with him, was the last thing I had been expecting when I sent off my booking confirmation, but then a lot of other things in Wynmouth I’d encountered so far hadn’t turned out how I had expected them to either. My memories of the place were metamorphosing along with what I had discovered about my parents and I knew I needed to maintain some balance if I was going to stop myself from
retreating to the sanctuary of the cottage and tying myself up in knots.
‘Are you up for it, Tess?’ Joe asked again.
‘You know what,’ I grinned, ‘I think I am.’
Chapter 13
Before Joe left, we finalized arrangements for the next evening.
‘I’ll drive,’ I insisted. ‘My car’s been standing idle since I arrived so it could do with a bit of a run.’
‘But then you won’t be able to drink,’ Joe pointed out.
‘I’m not worried about that.’
‘What do you drive?’
‘Why?’ I frowned, not seeing how it was relevant. ‘Does it matter?’
‘Well,’ he said, ‘it does if it’s anything even remotely high end, because you won’t want to go bumping it down the pot-holed farm track. I’m guessing it’s not an off-roader?’
‘No,’ I told him, grateful that he was mindful of my car’s suspension, ‘it isn’t. It’s a Mercedes C-Class.’
‘Bloody hell, Tess,’ he grinned. ‘That’s a cracking car.’
‘A cabriolet,’ I smiled back. ‘It’s okay. It gets me from A to B.’
Joe shook his head.
‘Yeah, right,’ he laughed. ‘I’ll bet it’s a darn sight more than just okay.’
He was right again. The car was my pride and joy. A luxurious indulgence and a much-loved reward for a hell of a lot of hard work, which had been very well done.
‘It is a beauty,’ I admitted, ‘and you’re right. I don’t fancy subjecting it to any pot-holes, but I could pick you up where the farm drive meets the road.’
‘That’s a good idea,’ he said, reaching around me and rummaging between the Land Rover seats, looking for paper and a pen to scribble down the address.
‘It’s not too far for you to walk?’
‘No,’ he said, ‘it’s no distance really.’
I pulled a notebook and pen from my bag and Joe rolled his eyes.
‘What?’ I pouted. ‘I like to be organized.’
‘See you tomorrow then,’ he grinned once he had finished writing. ‘I promise I won’t wear my muck-encrusted wellies.’
‘You’d better not!’ I shot back.
*
As arranged, Joe waited at the end of the track. Even from a distance, I could see he was smiling and gave him an indulgent flash of headlights. The sleek silver paintwork wasn’t quite as shiny as it had been, but considering the recent weather that was hardly a surprise. His rapt expression suggested he was impressed nonetheless.
When he reached me, I lowered the passenger window. His happy face bobbed down and I reminded myself that the purpose of the evening was for Joe to ‘kick up his heels’ for a few hours and that even though I had laid awake half the night thinking about the crash and the many questions I wanted to ask about it, this was not the time.
‘Show me your shoes before you get in,’ I jokingly commanded and he opened the door and lifted up one foot and then the other, presenting me with reasonably clean footwear.
‘They’ll do,’ I nodded, ‘get in.’
He slid gingerly into the seat and carefully closed the door.
‘I should have got you to drive us to tea yesterday afternoon,’ he said, taking in the plush interior.
‘It’s not that swish,’ I smiled.
‘Bloody is,’ he shot back. ‘Can you not smell the luxury?’
‘Stop it,’ I laughed.
‘Tell me again, Tess, what was it you said you did for a living?’
‘I didn’t,’ I grinned. ‘Now, put your seatbelt on and tell me where we’re going.’
I didn’t have to drive all that far and I soon realized that Joe’s idea of a wild night out (in Norfolk anyway), varied greatly to mine. I had thought there might be a cocktail bar or two, or a gin joint perhaps, followed by a five-course gourmet dinner and all topped off with a couple of hours dancing in an upmarket club, but I couldn’t have been more wrong and, as the evening progressed, I felt very happy about that.
‘What about “Don’t Go Breaking My Heart”?’ Joe shouted above the raucous din. ‘That’s a duet!’
‘All right,’ I nodded, wincing as the person currently on stage didn’t quite make the high note Whitney had always managed so easily. ‘But that’s going to have to be the last one. It’s way past my bedtime.’
Joe nodded and rushed off with the list clasped tightly in his hand.
We’d started the evening off at the funfair where we’d been thrown about, shook up and then very nearly thrown up and I was relieved I’d worn jeans and a fancy top, rather than the LBD which was the second dress I had packed and had been my initial choice. After that, we’d eaten fish and chips out of paper on the beach, had a quick beer in a quintessentially English seaside pub and ended up in this gaudy, noisy and absolutely packed karaoke bar.
I now understood exactly why Sam hadn’t wanted this kind of entertainment for the Smuggler’s, but in this vibrant bucket-and-spade resort further along the coast, it was the perfect fit and everyone, including Joe and me, was having a great time. It felt good to forget about my troubles for a while and the evening was doing me just as much good as Joe.
‘We’re up next,’ he said as he rushed back, grabbed my hand and pulled me to the stage.
He’d had a few beers and I hoped he wasn’t going to feel the worse for them on the journey home. I hadn’t thought to bring a bucket.
‘Do you want to be Kiki or Elton?’ he asked, his eyes shining with excitement.
‘Definitely Elton,’ I laughed, amused that he’d thought of the switch.
I had forgotten how good it felt to abandon my inhibitions and I was pleased I had offered to drive and therefore couldn’t drink. The evening was such fun, I wouldn’t have wanted to lose a second of it in a drink induced haze.
The applause was rapturous as we finished, Joe wrapped in a cerise pink feather boa – which by rights should have been mine as I was Elton – and me struggling to see through scratched star-shaped sunglasses which had clearly already seen plenty of stage action.
‘Always leave them wanting more,’ said Joe as we handed back our props and made for the exit. ‘That’s the expression, isn’t it?’
‘Sure is,’ I laughed, linking arms to stop him wandering off. ‘Come on, Kiki. The car’s this way.’
During the journey home Joe’s mood changed.
‘God, I don’t want to go back yet,’ he muttered, snuggling deeper into the heated seat. ‘Are you sure it’s hometime already?’
‘Afraid so,’ I told him, cutting the volume on the radio. ‘Are you that unhappy at the farm?’
‘It’s not the farm that makes me unhappy,’ he said, slightly slurring his words, ‘it’s Charlie. He’s made such a mess of everything and I’ve only just found out. And that was more by chance than design. We’re in deep shit financially now.’
‘I’m sorry,’ I said, thinking how the problem was all the worse because it was a family member who had created it. ‘Did your parents used to deal with the money side of things?’
If Charlie had never had any experience of the financial running of the place then I could completely understand how it had gone wrong when the obligation fell to him, but why hadn’t he asked Joe for help rather than hiding the situation from him?
‘Yeah,’ said Joe. ‘Dad dealt with everything. He was a bit of a control freak to be honest and none of us really knew his system. He always said it was easier having just one person in charge, but of course that didn’t factor in how we’d cope when he’d gone.’
‘I see.’
Joe shook his head and sighed.
‘I know I’m pissed with Charlie right now,’ he then said. ‘But I feel sorry for him too. He was the one who was pressured into following in the family footsteps.’
‘Didn’t he want to be a farmer?’
‘No,’ said Joe. ‘Not really, but he was the eldest and it’s what was expected. It was the same for Dad, only he had never wanted to do anything else.�
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That sounded archaic to me but I didn’t say so. It wasn’t any of my business to question a family tradition I knew nothing about. And besides, I had followed my father into the family firm, hadn’t I? It might not have been expected of me, but I supposed I had followed the pattern Dad had hoped would look the most appealing when I graduated. That said, it hadn’t turned out all that well, so I could empathize with the eldest Upton brother.
‘Do you know what Charlie wanted to do instead?’ I asked.
‘No,’ he shrugged. ‘I can’t remember. I don’t recall him going on about it because he had accepted that he wouldn’t be able to do it.’
I hoped Charlie didn’t still harbour regrets. Life was too short to be stuck doing a job you didn’t enjoy.
‘And what about you?’ I asked. ‘Didn’t you fancy farming with him?’
‘After the crash I couldn’t wait to get away,’ he said bluntly. ‘Staying around here and having to drive along that stretch of road every day was my idea of hell . . .’ He shuddered.
I was annoyed with myself for reminding him of his reason for leaving Wynmouth.
‘Could you just pull over for a sec?’ he asked, a sense of urgency in his tone denying me the opportunity to apologize.
‘You aren’t going to throw up, are you?’ I frowned, checking my rear-view mirror before turning into a convenient field opening.
‘No,’ he said, puffing out his cheeks, ‘but I really need to pee.’
The fresh air seemed to wake him up a bit and he sounded more sober when he picked up the conversation again after I’d tossed him my bottle of hand sanitizer.
‘I know I should have kept more of an eye on things,’ he sighed. ‘But I accepted what Charlie was telling me, that everything was okay, only now it’s not. It’s really not.’
‘Is it that bad?’
‘Yes,’ he said gravely, ‘it is. And not that it’ll be enough, but we’re going to have to sell some land. Bloody good land too.’
‘Is that the only thing you can do?’
‘Yep,’ he said. ‘It’s our only asset. Dad must be spinning in his grave. It took him years to work the farm up to the size it is now and we’re already downsizing.’
