This Is Your Life

by Susie Martyn

  The voices faded to a rumbling discontent.

  ‘It’ll only work if we all agree,’ said the first sane voice Lizzie had heard.

  The exasperated woman spoke up again. ‘Very well. All in favour, raise your hands...’

  After much mutterings in the background, she added, ‘Right. Monday morning everyone?’

  Feeling rain soaking into her t-shirt, nervously Lizzie went in, not sure at all what she’d find. But no-one seemed to notice as she crept over to the bar and timidly enquired about a room.

  ‘A room, Miss?’ bellowed the barman, grabbing the attention of absolutely everyone there. ‘You say you want a room?’

  ‘Just for one night,’ Lizzie added hastily, suddenly conscious of everyone’s eyes turning to stare at her. ‘You see, my car’s being fixed up the road.’

  ‘Oh,’ said the barman, a wicked glint appearing in his eye. ‘Not Dave? You sure you just want the one night? Could do you a deal if you decide to stay for five?’

  ‘No,’ Lizzie answered far too loudly, clearly showing her alarm. Five? ‘No. Just the one night. Please. It isn’t going to take long,’ she added firmly, ignoring his raised eyebrows.

  ‘Whatever you say, Miss…’ he smirked and turned to rummage for a key.

  Lizzie’s stomach was churning. Dave hadn’t exactly inspired confidence, and now, this cocky barman standing there grinning at her, he really wasn’t helping at all.

  Maybe she should go. Right now. She could hot-foot it back to Dave’s, reclaim her crippled car and creep back up the road to civilisation. Who was to say she wouldn’t get away with it? But she was interrupted by the exasperated female voice from earlier.

  ‘I say, you better come and have a drink. You’ll need one. Name’s Antonia by the way. You’re not from round here, are you?’

  Lizzie turned to face Antonia, a slight figure with long fair hair which hung in unruly curls down her back. She was pretty in an unkempt kind of way and a bit older than her, Lizzie guessed. But in skin tight jodhpurs and riding boots, might have come from another planet.

  ‘Um, I’m Lizzie,’ she said uncertainly, holding out a hand.

  Antonia shook it heartily. ‘Take no notice of these old farts. They’re all up in arms because the road works on the main road mean our lane gets used as a rat run. Absolute flaming nuisance, of course. William blocked it with his tractor and let the tyres down but he never knows where to draw the line. Ended up getting arrested, the idiot. And you can’t go out on a horse with all those bloody townies who think they own the road... Buggers hoot at you as they pass! God, I can’t tell you. Poor Hamish, nearly sat on a Porsche. Golly! Should have let him – that’d make them think. Anyway, the upshot of it all is the farmers start moving their sheep around. Spot on rush hour. That’ll sort them! Can’t run a bloody sheep over no matter what you’re driving!’ she hooted triumphantly, thumping a fist on the bar.

  Just as she was wondering who or what on earth Hamish was, one of the men, in an unlikely outfit of Stranglers t-shirt and a beany hat wandered over and stared at Lizzie, the look on his face unmistakeably hostile as he pointed a grubby finger at her.

  ‘You ain’t one of them danged ramblers I ‘ope…’ he said menacingly.

  ‘Lord’s sakes, William. Don’t be such an arse. Do you honestly think she’d tell you if she was? Now clear off and leave the poor girl alone.’ Antonia raised her eyebrows exasperatedly at Lizzie, as William, clearly used to her bluntness, simply glowered at her, muttering obscenities under his breath as he shambled back to the others.

  ‘Farmer,’ said Antonia by way of explanation. ‘Alpha male, though you’d never think so to look at him. Pity… he’s quite sexy when he’s not being such a cretin,’ she added regretfully. ‘Awfully good with horses, believe it or not. And I’d far sooner some mud and sweat than poncey pinstripes, wouldn’t you? My ex wore them. Once was enough, I can assure you.’ Her eyes wandered up and down the retreating view of the farmer.

  Lizzie blinked disbelievingly. Mad and sweat? It didn’t appeal in the slightest though she could understand an aversion to pin stripes. Surely there was middle ground – with scrubbed country types in nice, clean clothes rather than this lot who looked straight out of the fields.

  Antonia’s company was refreshing. She clearly had a thing for the beany-hatted farmer who looked several years her junior, her eyes flickering lustfully in his direction every so often, a fact to which he seemed oblivious.

  ‘So, where were you going before your car packed up?’ she asked, her head tilted quizzically on one side so that the long curls fell over one shoulder.

  ‘Cornwall,’ said Lizzie firmly. ‘Just for a break.’ Hesitant about confiding in such an opinionated stranger.

  ‘Jolly nice,’ said Antonia cheerfully. ‘Bit of a come down then, finding yourself here, of all places. Oh well, could be worse.’

  Could it? It was hard to imagine how. If you were going to spend a night in the country, you wouldn’t exactly choose the Star. Not unless you were desperate. Like she was.

  ‘Cripes, is that the time? I must shoot – riding lesson! Cindy’ll be champing at the bit! Lord… can’t remember which horse she’s on. Nice to have met you, Lizzie! Good luck with your car.’

  The barman sniggered in the background as Antonia left and feeling like a fish out of water, Lizzie sipped the rest of her drink as she listened to the conversation going on around her. Words like overdrives, wethers and bleedin’ bastards floated around. It was obviously the nerve centre of the village in here. Then she crept out and headed for the privacy of her room.

  Expecting the worst, she was pleasantly surprised when she opened the door. It wasn’t so awful - not exactly luxurious, but not terrible either. Aside from the wilted rose on the dressing table, there was a kind of mismatched effect going on, with pea green curtains that didn’t quite close and clashed with the bed covers, and peach and yellow towels folded neatly on the bed. But at least the sheets looked clean when she folded them back. Jamie would have been horrified… Jamie…it hit her like a thunderbolt. And by now he’d have read her letter.

  The lead weights were back, crushing her, her resolve nowhere in sight. Whatever had she been thinking, running off like that, only to end up in this God-forbidden backwater. It was madness. So much for finding herself. She’d lost it – utterly.

  Why hadn’t she stayed put, in the familiar surroundings of London and squashed into Katie’s tiny flat, where she’d have faced up to all those wedding guests to cancel with someone to hold her hand. Who knew what they were thinking.

  It would have been better too, if she’d stayed and told Jamie in person. But told him what exactly? That she’d stumbled across a letter that her dead mother wrote and that made her see the light?

  But it never would have worked, she knew that. He wouldn’t have listened to a word. You’re not making any sense at all, Eliza, it’s wedding nerves, blah blah blah… She could hear him saying it. He’d have bulldozed over her and completely dismissed what she told him.

  It wouldn’t have made any difference, she thought sadly. There was no right way, no easy way. Not with someone like him. And somehow, in this small room in a terrible pub in a village many miles away, Lizzie could finally answer her question: Jamie wasn’t the man for her.

  Chapter 4

  Horses in the night… thought Lizzie sleepily, nestling deeper under the covers until all that was visible was the top of her head. Horses in the night in the middle of London…

  But she was soon rudely awoken as a car went speeding past, followed by hooting and angry shouting, and prising her eyes open, saw that it wasn’t the middle of the night and nor was it London either.

  As she lay drowsily in bed, the events of yesterday flooded back and she was wide awake in an instant. Looking nervously around, persuading herself that actually, no she hadn’t lost her mind, far from it. She’d been saving herself from a fate worse than death. Death by beige… Getting out of bed, she pulled some clothes
on. She needed to talk to Katie - only that in itself was a problem, with her mobile flattened on the motorway.

  Lacking the convenience of a phone in her room, when Lizzie asked the barman where she could find one, he pointed to the one on the bar. There, right in front of her and right in front of everyone else too, though it had to be said, there was only one deaf old man and his smelly dog in there, but Lizzie didn’t like the leer on the barman’s face. In fact she didn’t like anything about him, not least that her predicament seemed to be his entertainment. Well, he wasn’t getting the sordid details of her personal life. Reluctantly he pointed her in the direction of one outside in the car park, where at least she could close the door.

  Feeding in her coins at an alarming rate, Lizzie acquired Katie’s number and dialled, slightly apprehensively.

  ‘Good morning, could I speak to Katie McDonald?’

  ‘Katie McDonald,’ came a crisp voice that didn’t sound like Katie at all.

  ‘Katie… it’s me,’ she said hesitantly.

  ‘LIZZIE! Oh my God, oh my God! I’ve been calling you all night! Are you alright? Where are you?’

  ‘I’m fine Katie, only…’

  ‘Oh thank God you called! I’m so glad you’re safe! You’ll never believe what Jamie’s up to…’

  ‘I can’t believe I’ve done this… I’m really, really sorry Katie,’ Lizzie said sounding rather pathetic. ‘I didn’t mean to cause all this trouble. It was just so, well, it all happened so quickly. I will tell you about it. But the odd thing is, I know I’ve done the right thing. At least, I think I have…’

  ‘Are you sure you’re ok? I’ve been trying your mobile and worrying myself sick. I had visions of you ending up in a twisted heap of metal somewhere… Where are you?’

  ‘I’m fine,’ Lizzie told her, swallowing a lump in her throat. ‘I am, really. I er, lost my phone on the motorway… Jamie was calling me…You’ve heard from him then…’

  ‘He was beside himself,’ said Katie. ‘He ranted and raved at me until I reminded him it wasn’t my fault. He said I wouldn’t be so sure about that… Can you believe it? He’s more upset at cancelling the wedding than anything else, what would everyone think, blah blah you know how he is…’ She stopped herself. ‘Sorry Lizzie, but you can just imagine…’

  ‘He’ll be furious,’ Lizzie said. ‘But I will offer to share the costs, surely he knows that…’ She could just see him, stalking around the house, the frown worse than ever, letting rip at everyone he spoke to. It clinched it. There was no going back now. Her name was blackened for ever.

  ‘Oh, I most certainly wouldn’t do that,’ said Katie unfeelingly. ‘He told me his insurance will see it’s all paid off…’

  ‘What insurance?’ He’d insured their wedding? ‘He never mentioned it to me…’

  ‘Hardly surprising, is it? You know what he’s like…’ said Katie bluntly.

  Lizzie was silent. What sort of man did that, sneakily, behind their partner’s back. What else didn’t she know about? Anger crept up on her – helpfully – offsetting some of the guilt.

  ‘So, what are your plans?’ asked Katie cautiously.

  ‘I’m not exactly sure. I’m in a little village several miles off the M4. It’s called Littleton. My car’s off the road for who knows how long, Dave’s garage hasn’t started on it and I’m stuck in this rip-off pub because there isn’t anywhere else. Oh Katie – it’s the middle of nowhere and I’m stranded!’

  ‘Well, you need another mobile,’ said Katie practically. ‘And I don’t suppose they sell them in the village stores round there. Or Dave’s garage for that matter… At least I know where you are now and if your car doesn’t get fixed, I’ll get one sent to you. In fact, why don’t I do that right now?’

  ‘Oh. No.’ It came out all high-pitched. She wasn’t staying another whole day. ‘Katie, my car will be fixed. I won’t be here.’

  ‘Lizzie. I think you better go and actually ask that garage man what’s happening. And phone me straight back.’

  ‘Ok,’ said Lizzie, able to put the moment off no longer. ‘But Katie, please, please don’t tell Jamie where I am.’

  ‘As if,’ said her friend disbelievingly. ‘Just so you know, Lizzie, even if this is all a bit spur of the moment, I think you’ve made the best decision…’

  The sun was shining as Lizzie made her way back up the lane to the garage, the air full of the heady scent of apple blossom tinged with damp earth from last night’s rain. This time it was an enormous shiny Discovery that nearly flattened her into the hedge, and she was starting to see what everyone was so heated about. She spotted the girl she’d met in the pub last night – Antonia - who waved at her before climbing onto a huge orange horse.

  Lizzie’s car was exactly where she’d left it, doors closed, bonnet down, looking to all intents and purposes like it was finished and ready to go. Her hopes up, she went to look for Dave who was watering his window boxes, which raised her hopes further. After all, he’d hardly be doing something that trivial if he had a car to work on - would he?

  ‘Mornin’ Miss! Lovely one inn’t it!’

  ‘Hello Dave. Is it done?’

  ‘Oh, dear me no. What gives you that idea Miss?’ Dave folded his arms and chuckled. ‘No. See. I need Mick here to do that. Thought e’d be in today, see.’

  Lizzie felt a wave of impatience. Couldn’t he have mentioned this yesterday? Hadn’t he understood that she needed to be on her way?

  ‘Look Dave, this is really urgent. When exactly will Mick be here? Because if it’s not soon, I’ll have to make other arrangements. I need my car fixed because I need to be on my way somewhere…do you see?’

  But Dave just shook his head and gazed at her benignly. ‘Trouble is Miss, that car ain’t goin’ nowhere. Tried to move it meself just this mornin’. Totally seized up like. Won’t go at all.’

  Lizzie took a step back, swallowing her disappointment. It was too unfair. This wasn’t supposed to happen, least of all now, when she should be back on the M4 heading ever closer to the wilds of Cornwall. She swallowed hard.

  ‘Dave, do you know when Mick is coming in?’

  Dave considered for a moment. ‘Well, see, mebbe tomorrow like, or mebbe today, later on. Mebbe next week… not altogether that sure.’ He scratched his head with oily fingers.

  Next week? Lizzie stared at the oil-streaked hair.

  ‘Please can you tell me as soon as Mick gets here? Only I’m supposed to be somewhere else…’

  ‘Oh aye, Miss. Now don’t you go worryin’. You just leave things to me. Real good bloke is Mick.’

  She walked slightly dazedly back towards the pub, and this time, when a car came by at seventy and missed her by about an inch, Lizzie shouted aggressively and waved her fist like a local. And that’s when she should have got worried.

  Having returned to the Star, Lizzie called Katie and broke the news. After retreating to the privacy of her room and bursting into tears, she took up the five day deal on her room, the barman’s snigger barely worth the pittance she saved, then for the first time Lizzie could remember, she had absolutely nothing to do.

  I should have been at least as far as Devon, she thought sorrowfully, with a cliff path to wander and waves to gaze in awe at… But Dave had been right about one thing. It was a beautiful morning and she pulled herself together. There was no point sitting in the Star all day being annoyed by the barman. No point feeling sorry for herself, either. It was her fault she was here – well, sort of. And in the absence of a better idea, she’d go for a walk. She’d get some fresh air in her lungs and the sun on her face and make the most of it.

  Pulling on a pair of old trainers, she ignored the questioning look on the barman’s face as she slipped out. The birds were singing and a whisper of a breeze ruffled her hair as she walked further down the lane and found a footpath which took her through the leafy shade of a beech wood. Only dimly registering the cool earthiness filling the air and ground that was soft with leaf mould, she w
alked on until the trees ended in a vast expanse of grass the lush green of spring. Ahead of her the fields sloped gently up and after the shade of the trees, the sun felt hot on her skin as she climbed. Her heart pumping faster from the exercise, she carried on until at the top, exhilarated and in the full glare of the sun, she sank onto the grass out of breath.

  A swathe of fields spiralled away in a vast circle beneath her and the views for miles were spectacular. Not a single soul was to be seen, and there was an incredible kind of peacefulness that somehow seemed to seep into her soul.

  Lizzie flopped back on the grass, thoughts whirling giddily in her head. Staring up at the cloudless sky, the sun’s rays like hot pinpricks, she could feel her body relaxing. But her mind was another matter, tossing and turning this way and that. One minute everything seemed so obvious and the next about as clear as mud.

  Her mother’s letter had really knocked Lizzie for six. As she lay there, her mind ventured into the forbidden zone, back to the day they’d found out about the tumour. To that most gut-twisting, heart-wrenching of moments. Would it be easier not to have known? If one day, further down the line her mother had simply just not woken up?

  Feeling the knot growing tighter inside her, Lizzie wiped away tears. More tears – where were they all coming from? Hadn’t she done her crying a year ago? She might have, had it not been for Jamie who couldn’t abide public displays of emotion. His words of comfort had been chin up Eliza, don’t let the side down. She’d done her best to just carry on as usual, believing it was the best thing - but now, it was catching up with her. And there, on top of the hill with the brightness of the sun and the softness of the grass, albeit a little late, it finally got her.

  As memories of her mother’s last weeks came back, her body shook with sobs. Thoughts of the horrible funeral filled her head - more sobs. It had poured with rain on the day. After the briefest of services with Jamie stiffly by her side, Lizzie had wished the flowers hid more of the coffin. Rigidly controlled at the time, now she wailed loudly.