Chasing Victory: A Romantic Comedy

by Beverley Watts

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ he whispers huskily, ‘For everything. I don’t ask you to forgive me, but I want you to know that my madness has passed. Please tell Florence…,’ he swallows convulsively, and I reach for a glass of water to give him. Waving it away, he continues croakily, ‘Tell Florence that if I could turn back the clock I would do so gladly.’

  I stare at him silently. What am I supposed to say? Should I tell a dying man that I forgive him? The truth is, he’s too much of an alien to me. I don’t hate him. I don’t actually feel anything at all for this stranger on the bed. I become aware that he’s speaking again.

  ‘I’m leaving everything I have to you of course.’ I open my mouth to interrupt, but he holds his hand up weakly. ‘I’m sure you don’t want any such reminder of your bastard of a father, but please understand, I need to do this. I need to atone in some small way for the misery I caused your mother and Florence… and … you,’ he finished wearily.

  I hear the door behind me opening, and to my shame, my first thought is one of relief. I look down at my father’s drawn waxy features as the voice behind me tells me it’s time to leave. Taking a deep breath, I tell him I’ll come again tomorrow, but he shakes his head slowly.

  ‘No,’ he whispers faintly. ‘We have nothing else to say. Live your life Kit.’ Then he closes his eyes and the nurse gently takes my arm to guide me out of the room.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Flo climbed out of the car wearily. Seven hours – a long journey after more than two weeks in hospital. Wincing slightly at Pepé’s anxious wriggling, she let him jump to the ground. Two seconds later he was off, foraging in the undergrowth, obviously ecstatic to be back at their cottage.

  Smiling, Florence looked towards her home. He wasn’t the only one happy to be back. Slowly she made her way towards the entrance where Neil was already unlocking and pushing open the front door. She’d expected there to be a closed up smell. Instead she smelled fresh flowers and furniture polish. Kit had obviously been busy. Entering the kitchen, she caught sight of a note on the table held in place by a large plate of scones. Bending down, she read, ‘Don’t worry, I didn’t bake them! Welcome home aunt Flo. I’ll pop up to see you tomorrow.’

  Suspiciously, she glanced over at Neil. Kit was always thoughtful, but didn’t usually leave treats when her aunt arrived home from her travels.

  ‘You haven’t said anything to Kit about my operation have you dear?’ she asked worriedly.

  ‘Of course not darling,’ Neil responded mildly with a quick kiss on her cheek. Flo narrowed her eyes. His calm response didn’t alleviate her fears at all. Gently he drew her towards the terrace, ignoring her frown. ‘A bit of fresh air will do you good Flo. Sit down while I make us both a nice cup of tea.’

  Florence snorted. ‘Cup of tea be damned, you can fix me a large glass of wine. I haven’t had a drink in three weeks.’ Neil chuckled, knowing that telling her she wasn’t supposed to drink would fall on deaf ears. If he gave in to her now, she would accept just the one glass. If he fought her over it, she’d more than likely drink the whole bottle, just to spite him.

  Five minutes later they sat opposite one another in contented silence. Pepé had returned from his explorations and ensconced himself underneath his mistress’s blanket, his favourite place in the whole world. Flo stroked the little dog absently, wondering how to broach the subject she’d been agonizing over for the whole journey.

  In the end, she decided to just come out with it. Her first alcoholic drink in nearly a month might have had something to do with her bravado.

  ‘I’m ready to get married now Neil.’ Her voice was decisive, almost defiant and achieved the not so gratifying result of her agent choking on his wine.

  Watching Neil splutter, Flo felt uncharacteristically uncertain. Was she wrong? Was marriage no longer on the cards?

  Heart thumping she went on when his coughing had died down, ‘I mean, you don’t have to move here to Dartmouth if you don’t want to. I’d be happy to move to London if that’s what you’d prefer.’ Her heart continued to hammer in the face of his silence. Then he looked up, and she could see tears glinting in his warm brown eyes.

  Climbing to his feet, he walked over and kneeled in front of her. ‘I’d live in the middle of the Sahara Desert if that was your requirement to marry me. Can we do it tomorrow in case you change your mind…?’

  ~*~

  My father died three days ago.

  I still don’t know how I feel about it. The whole experience was very surreal. I didn’t know him at all and yet I cried when I heard the news.

  I’ve also been informed that I’m now a very rich woman – or will be when all the formalities have been sorted out. How’s that for bizarre. If Jason and I were still together, he wouldn’t need Noah’s money to renovate Bloodstone Tower.

  Determinedly I force my mind away from Jason and on to my Aunt Flo who returned from her little holiday in London yesterday. I haven’t told her about my father yet. I didn’t want to do it over the phone. To be fair, I’m not sure how she’ll react. I mean she loved him once upon a time, didn’t she?

  I’m intending to head up to her cottage as soon as I’ve finished some paperwork. She actually sounded a bit breathless when I spoke to her. She said she had something to tell me, which I hope means she’s going to come clean about her illness. Of course, childishly, I wanted to say, ‘I’ve got something to tell you too, and I bet my news is bigger than yours…’ Obviously I didn’t.

  Normal service has definitely resumed at The Admiralty.

  Tory’s father came home a few days ago and is now being bossed about by both his wife and his daughter. Neither is allowing him to do anything at all, and in the last exasperated phone call I had from her this morning she told me he was threatening to throw himself into the River Dart if he didn’t get out from under their bollocking feet pronto…

  In the end they reached a compromise which consists of Jimmy coming over this afternoon to take the Admiral for a little drive – to the Ship Inn…

  I look down at my accounts littering the table. The fact that I actually don’t need to work anymore hasn’t really sunk in yet. And anyway, what would I do instead? If I tried the same nursing approach as Tory and Mable with Aunt Flo, she’d probably throw me out. Helplessly my mind goes back to Jason and I wonder what he’s doing now.

  Tory tells me that his father is doing well, but she’s not sure if that’s because he has a pretty redhead taking care of him, or the fact that he and his old flame Alice seem to have become an item. Jason told Noah that she apparently thought the efforts his father went to in order to meet up with her were all very romantic. Of course the Admiral has claimed full responsibility for bringing them together…

  Jason is actually due to come back to Dartmouth in a few weeks. The thought of seeing him again fills me alternately with dread and longing. It could be that he and the pretty redhead have become an item too. Tory hasn’t said anything, and I’m too scared to ask her to find out.

  Still, there is one really positive event on the horizon. Tory and Noah have decided to have little Isaac baptized, so I’m going to be able to make good my promise to the local printers – my conscience is now clear…

  I was a bit surprised actually – neither of them are particularly religious, but apparently the Admiral is insisting that his grandson be raised Church of England in true naval tradition – you know, God Save the Queen and all that.

  Of course it’s not necessary to do the whole thing quite so soon, apart from the fact that they intend to ask Bible Basher Boris to do the honours – and there’s no saying the old priest will be around in another twelve months…

  I think they both felt more than a little guilty that they were so relieved when he’d been unable to officiate at their wedding last year. Mind you they’ve decided to do the service outside in their garden – partly because the weather has been perfect since we hit July, but mostly because having the whole thing outside seemed the safest way t
o ensure that all guests actually survive the ceremony…

  With a sigh I finally give up on my paperwork. I might as well go up and see my aunt…

  ‘I’m so sorry sweetie, I should have told you I was trying to trace your father. It was completely wrong of me to do it under your nose. It’s just… well, I wanted to make sure you’ll be alright if anything happens to me.’

  ‘Well, now you know I’ll be absolutely tickety-boo, so you don’t have to worry anymore.’

  I make no effort to dampen my caustic response to Aunt Flo’s apology, feeling a sudden resurgence of anger as I remember her bloody letter to Jason. But when I see her bite her lip with anxiety, and remember that she’s just come out of a major operation, I relent, leaning forward to give her a warm hug.

  ‘It’s okay Flo, really it is. I was sad when I heard about his death, but my father was a stranger to me. To be honest, I was more concerned about how you’d take it. He seemed genuinely remorseful over the awful things he’d done.’

  ‘So he should have been.’ Aunt Flo’s comment matches mine for sharpness, stating exactly how she feels about her former lover.

  ‘He ruined so many lives Kit,’ she continues, shaking her head, ‘I’m just happy he tried to do the right thing by you before he died. It’s no more than you deserve darling.’

  She returns my hug, then leans back and claps her hands. ‘Let’s talk about nicer things,’ she declares with a smile. How’s it going with that gorgeous man of yours?’

  I open my mouth, not exactly sure what I’m going to say, but, before I can get my thoughts together, she leans back and laughs gaily, glancing over at Neil, who’s been sitting quietly with Pepé on his lap. ‘What?’ I ask instead, looking backwards and forwards between the two of them.

  ‘I’ve asked Neil to marry me,’ she says happily, ‘And he’s accepted. We’re going to divide our time between here and Neil’s flat in London.’

  I stare at her in shock. All I can think is that she doesn’t need me. My heart slams against my ribs as I realize the truth. She never needed me. It was just my idiotic sense of duty and my ridiculous fear of change that made her into some kind of invalid who needed looking after. She was my excuse to run away. Jason was right on every count.

  Realizing that they’re both waiting for a response, I drag myself back to the present and smile broadly, throwing my arms around her. ‘Congratulations, it’s about bloody time,’ I say sincerely as I look over her shoulder at Neil’s huge grin. ‘Have you decided when you’re going to finally make an honest man of him?’ I lean back to look into her joyful face.

  ‘I think Neil’s scared I might change my mind,’ she chuckles, ‘If he has his way, we’ll be doing it next week. But I’d like a little more time to plan. After all, I’ve only been married once and that was a dismal clandestine affair. This time, I’d like to do it properly.’

  She looks over at Neil, her eyes warm with love. ‘We’ve waited such a long time – too long. And that was my fault, I know, but what are a few more weeks. It’s not like we’re ever going to do it again…’

  Somehow I manage to get out of the cottage without actually telling her about my break-up with Jason. I kept the conversation firmly on my aunt and Neil, which wasn’t too difficult. I’ve never seen my aunt so happy. We drank some bubbly and I skillfully evaded any questions about my former boyfriend.

  As I walk to the car, my stomach is churning and a voice in my head is screaming, ‘Idiot,’ over and over again.

  Driving back towards Dartmouth, my feelings alternate between misery and hope. Would he consider taking me back if I pluck up the courage to contact him? Should I wait for him to get back to Dartmouth, or call, or write a letter, or send a text, or… has he moved on?

  I think back to the easy banter between him and Nicole. Aileen’s niece obviously loves it in Scotland. It probably wouldn’t take much persuasion to convince her to stay. I mean, who wouldn’t fall over themselves to be part of such an exciting project with a bloody gorgeous man like Jason Buchannan? Only imbeciles like me…

  Barely managing to stop myself from banging my head against the steering wheel in an agony of uncertainty and frustration, I decide that spending the evening alone isn’t a good idea. I call Tory to see if they’ll let me stay the night. My best friend acquiesces immediately as I knew she would. Of course the deal will be that I come clean, but come on, who else can I talk to?

  An hour later I’m driving round the headland to Chez Westbrook armed with two bottles of plonk, a family size bag of crisps and a large tub of salted caramel ice-cream. Coming clean always works best with lots of carbohydrates…

  Tory draws me into a big hug as I open the door. Then, without speaking, she turns and leads me through the drawing room and out onto the large terrace overlooking the river. ‘Sit,’ she commands, relieving me of my goodies before disappearing towards the kitchen.

  I collapse with relief onto the large comfortable L-shaped sofa, positioned to make the most of the beautiful view, and allow myself to relax into the early evening warmth. Dotty snuggles up on my lap and a few minutes later Tory returns with a large tray laden with the requisite carbs. Placing a glass in front of me, she sits down and says, ‘Spill.’

  ‘What’s with the one word sentences?’ I grumble, not actually sure where to start. She stares at me, eyebrows raised. Stalling, I take a large gulp of my wine before asking, ‘Where’s Noah?’

  ‘Putting Isaac to bed. Come on Kitty Kat, you didn’t come here just to get trollied, and I’d like to know what’s happened while you can still string a sentence together.’

  Sighing, I stare out over the river, idly watching a yacht make its way out to sea. ‘My aunt’s getting married,’ I say eventually, taking another large swig from my glass.

  ‘That’s wonderful news – isn’t it?’ Tory’s response is slightly puzzled, and I realize that with everything that’s happened, I’ve never really come clean about the actual reason Jason and I broke up. Oh, she knows I was balking against re-locating to Scotland, and she knows about my aunt’s illness. But chances are she’s not actually put together two and two together.

  So I take a deep breath, and tell her…

  Half way through, Noah arrives and sits down, silently helping himself to a drink and nibbles.

  ‘So she never really needed me after all,’ I conclude with a hiccupping sob, ‘And now, I have no idea whether Jason will ever consider giving our relationship a second chance – especially as I was so against moving to Scotland in the first place.’

  ‘Of course he will,’ Tory exclaims heatedly, leaning forward to grip my hand. ‘He loves you Kit, doesn’t he Noah?’

  In the silence that follows, you could have heard a pin drop. Frowning, Tory turns towards her husband. ‘Jason loves her doesn’t he,’ she repeats, making her words a statement rather than a question.

  Noah stares soberly at us both for a few seconds, then, running his hand through his hair, he shakes his head uncertainly. ‘Truthfully? I don’t know how Jason feels. He doesn’t wear his heart on his sleeve as you well know, but I do know he’s been talking about his housekeeper’s niece an awful lot during our phone calls. I get the feeling that there may be more between them than simply employer and employee.

  ‘I’m so sorry to be the bearer of bad news Kitty Kat, but I don’t want you to raise your hopes up, only to have them dashed. Let me speak with Jason. I’ll find out what I can.’

  I stare at Noah stricken, irrationally hating him for putting my worst fears into words. I can see Tory glaring at him from the corner of my eye, but when she goes to speak, I grip her hand tightly.

  ‘Noah’s right,’ I murmur, turning towards her, ‘What would be the point of me blithely thinking that all will be well simply because I’ve changed my mind.

  ‘When I last spoke with Jason, he was under no illusion that I would relent. Why on earth shouldn’t he get on with his life?’ I turn back towards Noah’s unsmiling face, and the sympathy shining i
n his beautiful eyes, nearly causes me to break down.

  ‘Please don’t say anything to him Noah,’ I manage to whisper around the lump in my throat, ‘He deserves to be happy. He’s moving on, and that’s a good thing - I don’t want you to rock the boat.’

  Strangling the huge sob that seems determined to form in the back of my throat, I turn to the bottle of wine on the table, and clumsily slosh a large amount into my wine glass with the rest of it landing on Dotty’s head. Holding the glass up by the stem, I mumble, ‘Here’s to moving on.’

  ‘So, what will you do?’ asks Tory softly, turning me back to face her.

  ‘Do?’ I question with a bleak smile, ‘Right now, what I’m going to do is to get well and truly drunk...’

  Chapter Nineteen

  ‘So what the bloody hell do you want me to do about it?’ The Admiral’s loud response was not helping Tory’s temper. She looked around at the regulars in the Ship, all of whom were eavesdropping shamelessly. ‘Could you at least try and keep your voice down?’ she hissed, only narrowly resisting the urge to give him a swift kick on the shin.

  ‘I think she wants you to make some enquiries Sir, you know, the kind of enquiries you’re always so good at,’ Jimmy muttered awkwardly. The small man was sitting on the other side of the Admiral and both of them were hugely uncomfortable with the turn of events.

  The Ship Inn and Victory Shackleford did not go together. It was like one of those new fangled bloody ridiculous ideas of putting chilli in chocolate, or salt in caramel. Some things were never meant to be in the same space at the same time. And one of those things was Charles Shackleford’s daughter frequenting her father’s local. Bloody sacrilege.

  The Admiral glared down at his pint, wondering if he stared at it long enough, she’d get fed up and leave. He should have known better.