The Boy In the Olive Grove

by Fleur Beale

  ‘Holy crap!’ I didn’t quite have the courage to ask what I really wanted to know: Was he real?

  ‘The strange thing was — I didn’t go after him. I just stood there watching him limp away. He had a stick, a carved staff, that he leaned on. It sank into the sand each time he thumped it down. What he’d said kind of banged around inside my whole body, not just my head. I tried to get mad at him, but it didn’t work. All I could think was that some old guy I’d never seen was disappointed in me. It didn’t occur to me till later that he must know my family.

  ‘I must’ve stayed where I was for well past the hour I was meant to be out, because when it was fully dark Dad came looking for me.’

  ‘Did you tell him about the old guy?’

  ‘Yeah, I told him. He wasn’t impressed. Said the whole world probably knew by now what an idiot I was, but he shone the torch around, looking to see if the old guy was still in sight. My footprints were clear and sharp on the sand, and so were Dad’s. But there were none coming towards me where the old guy had walked. There were no holes where he’d thumped his staff into the sand. Dad cuffed me over the head. He wanted to know if I was on drugs, because if I was I could leave and never come back.’ Nick gave me a grin. ‘You realise I haven’t told a living soul about this until now? My cred is in your hands, fair maiden.’

  He hadn’t told Lulu, but he’d told me. ‘I won’t tell yours if you won’t tell mine. Did seeing him make you stop being Nick the Nasty?’

  He gave a crack of laughter. ‘Yes, it did, and man did that spook the parents! They went around for weeks on tiptoe, waiting for me to bust out in wicked excess. The brothers couldn’t work it out either. They still wanted to walk on the wild side, and they gave me a hard time until we got into sport. Rugby, distance running and competitive woodchopping are good for using up teenage aggression. Tried shearing too, but that didn’t go too well.’

  ‘For you or the sheep?’

  ‘Both.’

  We sat quiet, listening to the birds and the chatter of the families behind us in the garden. At last, I said, ‘Did you look for him later?’

  ‘I spent the rest of the holidays trying to find him. I asked everybody I met if they knew of an old man who was skinny, bent over and walked with the aid of a staff. The only other thing I knew about him was he had a deep voice. I went out every night at the same time, hoping he’d come back, but I never saw him again. I don’t know who he was, or where he came from. All I really know is that he didn’t leave footprints in the sand, and he knew me better than I knew myself. And,’ he added, ‘he didn’t think much of me.’

  ‘I’ll swap you,’ I said. ‘You have my pictures and I’ll have your old man.’

  Nick shook his head. ‘No-go. He’d like you. You wouldn’t disappoint him.’

  I was pleased he thought that about me. ‘So what you’re telling me is that if I’m a nutcase, then so are you?’

  ‘That, my friend, is about the size of it. Life’s full of surprises. Who’d have thought ice cream could be so soul-baring.’

  ‘They’ve probably got a secret recipe. They—’ I broke off because my phone started ringing. ‘It’s Maurice.’

  ‘Answer it! Quick, woman!’

  I crossed every available finger. ‘Maurice? How’s things? Any joy?’

  ‘Three orders for dining tables. An order for a bookcase and three expressions of cautious interest.’

  ‘That’s amazing, Maurice — that’s way better than we’d hoped. I’m not at work right now, but have you told the others? Does Dad know?’

  ‘You tell everyone, Bess. I’m off for a celebratory drink with the missus.’

  Success! At last! I jumped to my feet, hauled Nick up and together we danced around the garden, copping looks from disapproving to indulgent from other patrons. Then he grabbed hold of me, swinging me off my feet. And, between one moment and the next, we stopped the wild dancing, our arms still around each other. I dropped mine, aware that my heart was racing, and not from the leaping about, but he pulled me in close.

  I looked up at him. ‘Nick?’ A mistake.

  We stared into each other’s eyes and I’ve no idea what he saw in mine, but I saw warmth and joy and belonging in his.

  ‘Bess.’ He bent his head, and I knew he was going to kiss me. I knew I should pull away and remind him it was Lulu he loved. I didn’t. It was a gentle kiss, sweet and undemanding. I closed my eyes and abandoned myself to the small world of the two of us.

  Somebody in the garden clapped. Somebody else wolf-whistled.

  Nick straightened up, his face rueful. ‘Sorry, Bess. That was out of line.’

  I kept my voice as light as I could. ‘It’s okay. Don’t worry about it. We just got a bit carried away.’ I stepped back, collected my bag from the table. ‘But it’s such good news. I’m really feeling hopeful about the factory.’

  Nick put his arm around my shoulders in a comradely sort of way as we left the garden, but he didn’t talk then or in the car except to swear at a driver who overtook us on the blind brow of a hill.

  My car — Hadleigh’s car — was the only one left at the factory. Kent had shut the caravan up and gone home. Nick pulled to a stop and, before I could get the door open, he said, ‘Have a good year, Bess. You’ve earned it. And don’t let that mother of yours destroy you.’ He flicked my cheek with a finger. ‘That was quite an afternoon. You okay? Truthfully?’

  I turned to face him. ‘Yes, I’m okay. It was good to hear your story. Nice to know you’ve got a pet spook too. Have a good life, Nick. That old guy wouldn’t be disappointed in you now.’

  I got out of that car before my face could give me away. I wasn’t okay, I was a mess. He should be with me, not with Lulu.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  I DIDN’T GO straight home. I drove out into the country, found a quiet road off the main highway, put my head down on the steering wheel and cried my eyes sore.

  A car drove past, slowing down to check me out. I lifted my head, waved and stretched a smile across my face. It kept going. According to the rear-view mirror I was a splodgy, splotchy mess. I couldn’t go home with swollen eyes and a red nose, and I didn’t want Dad to start asking probing questions either. I took myself back to the factory where I did damage control on my face. Then I sat for ages, looking at nothing, thinking about as little as possible.

  Afterwards I realised I’d put myself into a semitrance state. It could have been that, or it could have been connecting with Nick — whichever one, the result was that I saw the olive grove boy again. He was running, arms outstretched, towards a girl who ran towards him. They met and his arms held her. She lifted her head, smiling at him, and they kissed. I recognised them both. As I’d hoped all along, my olive grove boy was Nick, and his sweetheart was me. Their happiness shone around them. I felt it as I was now: a heartsore mess in the twenty-first century.

  But the world can’t be shut out for ever. My phone pinged the arrival of a text. It was from Dad wanting to know if I’d heard from Maurice. I got back in the car. I’d tell him in person and I’d stay there until my eyes came back to normal. I so did not need comments from Mum about my state of mind.

  Dad leapt up from his armchair as soon as he saw me. ‘Tell me! You’ve heard from Maurice?’

  ‘Three dining tables and a bookcase. Three other places showed interest. Ring the men, Dad. They’d like to hear it from you.’

  He settled back down in his chair. ‘Tell them tomorrow, Bess. At morning tea. That’s the way I always do it.’

  My shaky hold on self-control snapped. ‘Ring them now. They deserve to know. Jason included. We’re all in this together. They’ve been fantastic — coming up with ideas. Working as a team. You bloody ring them and tell them. Right bloody now.’ I burst into tears again.

  Dad stared at me, his mouth open and his face scrunched up with worry. Iris swept into the room. She seized me by the arm. ‘You’re coming with me. Charlie will ring the men immediately.’ She towed me into th
e kitchen and shut the door on him. ‘Not a word,’ she ordered. ‘Not yet. You’ll have some soup, then after that, we talk.’

  I hadn’t the will to argue even if I’d wanted to. Iris put the food in front of me, then looked at me hard. ‘You’ve got your heart broken?’ she asked.

  ‘Yeah. Smashed to a pulp.’ I didn’t even bother asking her how she’d worked it out. She was a witch, pure and simple.

  ‘Explain. From the beginning.’

  So I told her about my olive grove boy, about how I’d only just seen the girl, and that I recognised them as being Nick and me. ‘He’s got a girlfriend. Lulu. She was with him the day Dad went to hospital. She’s gorgeous. But he kissed me today and I know we should be together. We belong together. He was sorry he’d done it. He didn’t talk to me all the way home.’

  Iris was frowning at the wall, her thinking face on, then she said, ‘Listen, Bess, for a start you’re very young. Yes, Nick might be the lost love from long ago and it might be that you eventually get together in this life too. But if he doesn’t come back to you, if he marries Lulu or some other girl, then it’s up to you whether or not you let that wreck your life.’

  ‘But we belong together! How can I love somebody else?’ She didn’t understand, she just had no idea.

  ‘Well,’ said my stepmother, ‘it’s your choice. Go round being miserable, or go out and live your life. Expect to find somebody else and, for the love of Eros, don’t panic if you haven’t met him by your twentieth birthday.’

  I didn’t want her astringent advice. I wanted sympathy. I wanted her to mourn with me for a love I couldn’t have.

  ‘And put your bottom lip back where it belongs.’ That surprised a laugh out of me. ‘Look, love, tragic heroines are all very well in opera but they get very tedious in real life. And think about it: if we have truly lived many times before, there must be others you’ve loved. You might well miss one of them if you’re set on Nick being the one and only.’

  ‘Yeah. I guess.’

  ‘Good girl. Let’s go and smile at Charlie. He’s not good with tears.’

  No, he wasn’t. He had worry written all over his face.

  ‘Sorry, Dad,’ I said, and kissed his cheek. ‘I’m okay now. Just a bit of a blip.’

  ‘Your mother?’

  ‘She doesn’t get any easier.’ I was quite happy to make her the villain — and I couldn’t face telling him the truth.

  ‘Then you’d better come and live here, my girl. Can’t have you getting upset like this.’

  ‘Thanks, Dad. I think I’ll be okay, but if I’m not I’ll be hammering on your door. I promise.’

  ‘Well, make sure you do. By the way, you were right about letting the men know about the orders. They’re tickled pink. Every man jack of them. That Jason, I could tell he was proud as punch I’d rung him.’

  ‘That’s great, Dad. They’ll be pleased when you’re back.’

  He dropped his eyes to his feet and studied them very hard. ‘Um, been thinking. Might change a few things when I’m back on deck. More discussions. Ask their opinions. Give them more responsibility.’

  ‘Good idea, Dad.’ Dear god I was tired.

  ‘Home time for you, Bess,’ Iris said. ‘Pop in tomorrow after work if you feel like it. You know you’re always welcome.’

  I ARRIVED HOME to the usual storm from Mum.

  ‘Where have you been? Why didn’t you ring me?’

  All I could do was stand there while she ranted. She had a point. I hadn’t let her know I wouldn’t be home for dinner. But why was it always my fault?

  ‘You could have rung me,’ I shouted. ‘Why didn’t you ring me?’ I walked off and shut myself in my room. Again.

  A whole year of this! I sank onto the bed with my laptop. I’d escape into the world of friends — a world whose rules I understood.

  All my intentions to post a chatty, cheerful update about tennis and a busy factory vanished as up popped a message from Hadleigh. A long message — for him. I stared at it, scared to start reading.

  Oh, get a grip. Read it and go to bed.

  It was to all of us.

  Hi family,

  Sorry for lack of news at this end. Have been tramping up in the Amazon. Sending this from Manaus. Hope it arrives okay — internet can be dodgy. Dad, I hope you’re doing well. Rather a shock to hear you nearly carked it. Good that Iris and Bess are on your case. Mum, Bess says the garden and your cooking are up to the usual standard of perfection. Looking forward to sampling both. Don’t know when I’ll be home so have a happy Xmas/NY. Think of me on a beach in Bahia while you lot get rained on as usual Xmas Day.

  H

  I read it again and concluded that he’d forgiven me, because the message to Mum was complete fiction designed to soften her.

  Well, she’d have to wait. There was no way I was going to go and show her the message tonight. She didn’t bloody deserve it.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  I WOKE WITH THE MEMORY of Nick’s kiss and a brief, fleeting taste of bliss before reality intruded. He might have loved me once, long ago in a different world. But not now, not in this one. I hauled myself out of bed, preparing to face the day. The men would be happy. That was good. Mum might be happy too, now that Hadleigh had written.

  Well, if she was, she didn’t show it. She might have been pleased, or she might have been enraged that That Woman was mentioned before she was. I didn’t know. She read her elusive son’s message, then went out to the garden without speaking to me.

  I called in to show Dad the message on the way to work. He got all sad and old again just from reading it. ‘Tell him he doesn’t need to worry. I get it now that he’s not a wood man.’

  ‘It’s not the end of the world, Charlie,’ Iris said.

  Dad sighed. ‘It’s just that I can’t see the point of keeping it all going if there’s nobody to pass it on to.’

  ‘Talk to Eddy,’ I said. ‘He’d take over like a shot if you asked him to.’

  That straightened Dad’s backbone. ‘Absolutely not. He’s far too young.’

  ‘Just like Bess is,’ Iris remarked. ‘And isn’t he older than Hadleigh?’

  ‘That’s …’ He thumped the table with a fist. ‘He doesn’t know the first thing about business.’

  ‘Neither did Bess,’ said my valiant stepmother. ‘But she’s doing fine learning on the job.’

  ‘Dad, Eddy’s keen. He’s a designer and a craftsman. He’ll soak up all the knowledge you can throw at him. Talk to him. You’ll be surprised.’

  Dad said nothing. Iris and I looked at each other. Progress? Apparently, because he sighed again, then said, ‘I’ll talk to him. Sound him out. But that’s all I’m promising. You ask him to come and see me, Bess. Tell him to knock off early and come over today.’

  ‘Sure,’ I said. ‘I’ll tell him why too. And I’ll tell the men.’

  ‘No! You’ll do no such thing!’

  ‘Dad, I do things differently from you. The men appreciate being told what’s going on. They’ll have to be okay with Eddy eventually being their boss.’ I crouched down in front of his chair so that we were more eye to eye. ‘I reckon it’s only fair to suss out if they like the idea. You never know, one of them might be nursing a secret ambition.’

  Dad just went humph, so I removed myself.

  Iris came with me to the car. ‘How’s the heart this morning? The truth, please.’

  ‘Bruised but functioning.’

  ‘It’ll heal quicker if you stay in the here and now.’

  I drove my sorry self to the factory. It’d be useful if there was stuff for me to do, something that would take immense concentration. Instead, there was Clint, reminding me of his son.

  ‘Did that boy of mine treat you right, Bess?’ he asked.

  Rub it in, why don’t you?

  I scrabbled around in my bag, ostensibly hunting for my phone. ‘Yes, of course he did.’ I managed to look up and smile. ‘He’s very different these days from when he was a kid.
’

  Clint snorted. ‘Lucky for him.’ He shook his head. ‘The girls seem to fall all over him. Can’t for the life of me work out why. He doesn’t take a blind bit of notice of any of them. Except for that Lulu.’

  ‘Don’t you like her? She was very kind to me the day Dad went to hospital.’ Tell me more. Please.

  He shrugged. ‘She’s okay. Not the sort I’d have thought he’d go for.’

  But that was the end of the conversation. I didn’t find it comforting.

  THE WEEK ROLLED ON slowly towards Christmas Day. Dad came in on Friday as planned to talk to Jason.

  ‘He’s shaping up well,’ he told me later. ‘I’m happy to put him on the payroll.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Uh, you did well there, Bess. Not a lad I would have given a second look to.’

  It warmed me to hear him say that, but it was the men who’d turned Jason around. My usefulness at the factory was pretty much over. They wouldn’t need me to be at the place much after the Christmas break, and the matter of how to entertain my friendless, loveless self until school started pressed on my sore heart.

  It helped that I could play tennis both days in the weekend. I chatted to Charlotte, Maddy and Clodagh via Skype, and didn’t speak of Nick or peasant boys in olive groves.

  I kept well away from Nick and Lulu’s Facebook pages, although I couldn’t resist checking to see if there were pics of Nico Hamilton. Oh yes. Lots of them, and every one dripping with sex appeal. Lulu featured in far too many of them.

  The Peace rose arrived. I wrapped it in pretty paper and wrote Mum an insincere message on a card. I bought Dad a book of cartoons, and for Iris I found a book on ancient witchcraft.