by Amanda James
‘I couldn’t get used to it, I must admit. Trouble is, if I want to use the CV, birth certificate and stuff to make a life on the straight and narrow, and I do of course, I’ll have to keep it.’
‘Yeah, guess you will. Unless you change it by deed poll …’ Bryony mutters to the table, runs her finger around the rim of her cup, obviously lost in thought. She looks up at him, head on one side. ‘So will you go back to Scotland to live now, or …?’
Nathan furrows his brow and leans back in his seat. Is this her way of subtly hinting that there’s nothing for him here? Does she wish him far away? ‘Um … no. I was hoping to stay near the sea if I could. Thankfully now Ransom’s gone I won’t have to worry about hiding away. I won’t go back to Sheffield – too many bad memories, and there’s nothing for me there now. Mum, as you know, is in Devon, so’s my sister and my brothers as well. I can always visit.’
Bryony mirrors his pose and folds her arms. ‘I see … right.’ She looks out of the window at the sea for a moment and then back to him. ‘A little odd that Ransom decided to top himself out of the blue like that, wasn’t it?’ She’s doing her intense stare thing again, and he can imagine that many a criminal must have squirmed under it in the past.
He shrugs. ‘Perhaps he just realised that he had a fourteen-year stretch or so in front of him and no daughter. Must have seemed a bit hopeless.’ Nathan’s glad his beard covers some of his face; he can feel the heat rising under his skin. He wishes that she’d stop staring so hard.
‘You know more than you’re letting on.’ Bryony’s statement leaves him no wriggle room. He could blatantly lie to her, but then he couldn’t know absolutely what happened to Ransom. Not a hundred per cent.
‘Well, there is a rumour that one of his old enemies caught up with him and made it look like suicide … but there’s no proof and no fail-safe way of finding out. I think the coppers just turned a blind eye to gossip and that was it.’
She narrows her eyes. ‘Hmm. That’s more or less what an old colleague told me when I phoned to check that Ransom was dead.’
Nathan tries not to show surprise. She obviously hadn’t trusted him enough to come back to England without checking – but then would he have in her shoes? He says, ‘Well there you are then. I suppose we’ll never know.’
‘Ah, but you do know … you know more than you’re letting on, don’t you?’
Nathan shakes his head and shrugs. ‘Not sure what you’re getting at.’
‘I think you do … but let’s leave it for now. I think I fancy one of those éclairs after all.’ To his shame she flicks a bit of cream from his beard and laughs.
When Nathan gets back to the table with more coffee and the éclair, he’s pleased to find her more relaxed and open. They chat about France and Scotland and how weird their lives have been over the last few months, and it feels comfortable, normal … until Bryony looks at her watch. ‘Right. I’d best get to the supermarket and back to Mum’s. She’s insisting on doing a big meal with champagne tomorrow to give me a proper welcome. Jen, Graham and Immi will be there too; I said I didn’t want any fuss, but you know Mum.’ She pushes her chair back and picks up her jacket.
Her words feel like a punch to his gut. Is that all? Is she just going to leave it like that? With an effort he assumes a calm voice. ‘I do. How did she take it when you told her everything?’
Bryony frowns. ‘I haven’t told her anything yet.’ She shrugs on the jacket. ‘I thought I’d tell her in dribs and drabs. She’d freak out if I said I’d been in danger and had to leave the bloody country. She was overjoyed when I told her I was coming to stay the other day. I need a while to gather my thoughts.’
Nathan nods slowly and stands too. ‘Will you tell her about me … about us?’
Bryony turns her mouth down at the corners. ‘I don’t know … suppose not. I mean, there is no us anymore, so why bother?’ Her eyes skip away from the disappointment he knows must be writ large on his face. ‘Mind you, as I said, Immi’s coming tomorrow. After a few drinks, she’ll probably let it slip if I don’t.’
‘Yeah … I guess she will. How did she take the news of her dad?’
‘Oh, you know. Mixed. Mostly relieved I think.’ Bryony zips up her jacket and gives him a wistful smile. ‘Thanks for explaining why you acted as you did, Nathan … it was kind of you to put me first, and thanks for helping us …’ She rolls her eyes. ‘Us, she says. I can’t get used to not being a copper … the police, I mean, to get those evil bastards.’ She gives him a long look. ‘Anyway, goodbye, Nate. Be happy.’ She steps forward and gives him a peck on the cheek and turns for the door.
No. No, this can’t happen, I won’t let it. As she walks through the door he hurries to her side, puts his hand on her arm. ‘Hey, we can’t leave it like this …’
She shrugs him off and walks outside, tossing over her shoulder, ‘We have to. I can’t trust you anymore … you broke my heart and I won’t let you do it a second time.’
Nathan keeps pace with her as she hurries to the car park. ‘But I told you why. I did it to—’
‘Protect me, yes, you said. But you should have trusted me enough to talk it through, given me a chance to have a say. I’m not some delicate little flower that needs protection, Nathan. I’m a grown woman. A strong woman.’
What the hell is he supposed to say to that? Doesn’t she get that he did it all for her? Strong people get killed, no matter how strong they are. She points her keys at a red car and bleeps it open. Do something, for fuck’s sake, before she gets in and drives away!
‘Bryony, wait! We can’t leave it like this … us like this.’ Nathan takes her by the shoulders and spins her round to face him. Her hair’s lifting on the wind and her mouth’s parted as if she wants to say something but can’t think of the words.
‘I’ve told you … there is no us. Not anymore.’ There are tears in her eyes and she tries to get in the car, but he won’t release her.
‘There is,’ Nathan insists. ‘There is because I love you, and … and you love me.’ God, let that be true.
Bryony shakes her head and looks down, a tear drop on her lip. ‘It won’t work … we’re too different.’
Encouraged that she hasn’t said she doesn’t love him, Nathan lifts her chin, makes her look into his eyes. ‘We aren’t that different, but anyway, vive la différence. Tell me you don’t love me, Bryony, and I’ll walk away.’ His heart is thrashing in his chest; his whole future is dependent on her answer. If it’s a yes, he’s a rocket blasting through a November night sky, a trail of sparkles in his wake … if it’s a no, he’s drowning in a rip current, sinking to the depths.
Bryony blinks back more tears and takes a deep breath. ‘I must admit … I do love you, Nathan, but I want a happy future. I can’t be wondering if you’re going to up and leave again at any given time, can I? Just go off in the middle of the night without a word because of some misguided old-fashioned chivalrous idea that you’ve got into your head. God knows what you might do. And if we had children—’ She puts her hand over her mouth as if to stop her words.
‘I promise you here and now that I will never, never ever leave you like that again. I thought I was doing it for the right reasons, but it seems I was wrong.’ Bryony’s eyes look deep into his, so tenderly, and he thinks he sees light at the end of his tunnel. ‘But please … please give me a chance to make it up to you. Please, I—’
Nathan’s words are suddenly stopped by her mouth on his, her arms clasped tight around his back, her body pressed close to his. Thank God. His arms go round her and he kisses her deeply, while rockets blast all around him in a November night sky.
39
Considering it’s November, the sun still has some heat in it. I’m sitting on Mum’s patio, coffee in hand, legs stretched out in front of me, my face tipped to the sky, and all is good with the world. I’ve been reassessing my views. Happy endings are for other people. People in films and novels … or so I used to think. Since Dad was killed, the
n all this trauma with Ransom, Nathan getting shot and then disappearing, the past relationships that never worked, I never really expected true happiness. The thing is, this morning when I woke and remembered that Nathan’s back in my life, that we admitted our love for each other, I am beginning to allow a tiny flame of hope to burn in the most secret part of my heart.
I’m not dopey enough to think it will end in wedding bells, confetti, and pink fluffy hearts anytime soon, because I for one want to take it slowly. But in the future, who knows? Well, apart from the pink fluffy stuff. I am not a girly girl, whatever the hell that means. Sometimes it’s as if feminism never bloody happened these days. If I ever have a daughter I will make sure I dress her in blue on principle. And ‘man up’? What’s that all about? To be strong you have to act like a man? Aren’t women strong? Woman up, it should be. I’ll ask Immi what she thinks when she arrives in a few minutes.
As if on cue, the doorbell rings and I jump up, run inside, but Mum’s beaten me to it.
‘Imogen, come in, come in!’ Mum stands aside and ushers her in. ‘My goodness, look at your tan!’ She tips her head at me. ‘Look at her tan, Bryony.’
‘I’m looking! It’s so good to see you, Immi!’ I step forward and give her a huge hug, then hold her at arm’s length. She looks the picture of health: blonde curls almost white, blue eyes in bold relief against the tan, and a multi-coloured dress under her heavy winter coat. ‘You’re like a bit of Spanish sunshine come to brighten up our winter.’
‘And my God, look at you!’ Immi grins and spins me round. ‘Your hair is gorgeous like that and you’ve got curves!’
I laugh self-consciously and tug my blue cashmere jumper down a bit more over my leggings. ‘That’ll be the dumping of the stressy job and stuffing my face with full-fat cheese, wines and fresh bread in France for nine months for you.’
Mum folds her arms and gives me a pretend angry face. ‘Which she’s still to tell me anything much about, Immi. She’s been a bit vague, to be honest – perhaps you can get her to spill the beans. That Jacob one rang the other day too to ask for her number. No mention of him yet, either.’
Immi gives me a pointed look but keeps her mouth shut. I pick up her bags and say to Mum, ‘Give me a chance, Mum. I’ve not been back five minutes!’ I incline my head to Immi. ‘Right, let’s get your bags up to your room and settle you in.’
As we hurry past Mum up the stairs, she calls after us, ‘That’s code for let’s have a good gossip out of my mother’s earshot! I’m not as green as I’m cabbage looking, ya know!’
Immi laughs and once we’re in her room she flops in the chair and pulls her long brown boots off. ‘Oh, it is so good to be back here!’
I pat her on the knee and sit on the bed. ‘I felt exactly the same when I got back the other day. And it’s so good to have you here too.’
‘Right. Why haven’t you told your mum about Nathan? She still thinks he’s called Jacob for God’s sake.’
‘Get right down to it, why don’t you?’ I laugh. I’ve missed her honesty and her direct approach. She raises an eyebrow and folds her arms, giving me no wriggle room. ‘Okay … truthfully there hasn’t been a lot of time to tell her it all since I’ve been back. And when I was away I couldn’t tell her over the phone. She’d have been worried sick if she knew Ransom was after me and how Nathan fitted into it all. And then if she knew he’d just abandoned me, that would have made it all worse.’
Immi nods. ‘So did you meet him yesterday?’ I sigh and tell her I did. ‘And what was his excuse? How did you leave it?’
I tell her everything and as I do her face runs the gamut of expressions from surprise, amusement, incredulousness and finally to approval. ‘So we’re giving it a go … but slowly,’ I finish.
‘Yeah, right. I need to go and buy a wedding outfit tomorrow,’ Immi says and chucks one of my old cuddly toys at my head.
I laugh and chuck it back. ‘No way. We need time to get to know each other properly and come to terms with what’s happened over this past crazy year.’
Immi nods and hugs the toy to her chest. ‘Yes … me too. It’s been a fucking rollercoaster of a ride.
‘You’re right there.’ Poor Immi. No matter what she says, Ransom was still her dad and she must have some good memories of him when she was little, at least. I think a change of subject might help. ‘Now you’re back, will you get in touch with Jonathan?’
A definite shake of her head. ‘No. There’s no way he’d begin to understand my life. Okay, we had not too dissimilar backgrounds, and I mentioned bits about my dad. But can you imagine what he’d think if I told him the whole truth about my father – what he did – what I had to do to make sure the scum was put away? It’s all too sordid.’
‘He might surprise you. Don’t forget, when he called me to ask if I knew where you were, he was really upset.’
‘Yes, I know, but he doesn’t deserve someone like me – someone with more flippin’ baggage than a jumbo jet.’ Immi gives me a little smile. ‘Anyway, we were talking about you. You have to tell your mum about it all and you have to do it before this celebratory meal tonight. It will be murder for me trying to remember what she does and doesn’t know. I take it lover boy is coming?’
‘I haven’t invited him … but I was thinking about it.’
‘Oh, you must. He should be a part of the celebrations, ’cos if it hadn’t been for him then Dawson and that great hulk of an ape that tried to kill me wouldn’t have been arrested, would they?’
‘Nope.’ I don’t mention that I’m a bit suspicious about Nathan having something to do with Ransom’s suicide. No point in stirring the pot until I find out more. Even then, would I tell her? Probably not.
‘Right then. So in a bit, I’ll go out for a walk to the beach while you have a chat with your mum and invite Nathan. Then we can all have fun and move on from this bloody nightmare, yes?’
‘Yes … I hope so.’
‘Me too. It’s about time stuff went right for us.’ Immi jumps up, gives me a hug and starts to unpack.
Nathan was over the moon to be invited and promised to be on his best behaviour with Mum if she was a bit grumpy with him. I’m predicting she will be at first, when she knows everything, but she always says, ‘If my daughter likes someone, then they must be worth getting to know.’ I’m up in my room wondering how to broach it all with her and as usual am gawping out the window at the garden and glimpses of ocean beyond for inspiration. Next door’s cat is on Mum’s patio table again washing its face. It catches sight of me and stops mid-lick. I wave to it, but it’s unimpressed and carries on with its routine. No inspiration from the cat or the view is forthcoming, so I decide to just spit it out and hope for the best.
Mum’s in the kitchen preparing tonight’s feast. The smells wafting up the stairs to greet me as I come down make my mouth water, even though I’ve not long since had lunch. ‘Ooh, what smells so good?’ I ask, pulling a chair out at the kitchen table.
Mum turns round, puts a floury hand to her red cheeks and puffs a strand of hair from her forehead. ‘All sorts,’ she says with a smile. ‘My special stuffing, apple and caramel sauce for the pavlova, a selection of canapés, take your pick.’
‘Can I?’ I say, half rising from my chair.
‘Sit down, madam. You’ll wait until later like everyone else.’
‘I could make you a cuppa?’ Mum says she’d love one and once again I wonder how to start – and if this would be a bad time as she’s up to her eyes. ‘Er … Mum, don’t suppose you have time for a chat?’ Oh God, that sounded a bit ominous.
Mum glances across at me, surprised. ‘Yes, love. I’ve more or less finished my preparation now. Everything okay?’
‘Yeah, just need to fill you in on a few things.’ I have to shout over the noise of the kettle, which makes it sound worse.
Mum washes her hands and sits at the table, a worried frown on her forehead. I finish making the tea and sit opposite. ‘Don’t look so worried, Mum. I
t’s mainly about Nathan … I mean Jacob … no.’ I roll my eyes. ‘I actually mean Nathan.’ Her frown deepens. ‘I’ve invited him over to the meal tonight – hope that’s okay?’
She brightens. ‘Of course. I’ve made enough for a regiment.’ Then I smile, sip my tea and do the thousand-mile stare. Where to start? Mum eventually comes to my rescue. She folds her arms and fixes me with her no-nonsense look. ‘Right, there’s something bothering you, so out with it – I’m listening.’
40
Mum’s tea is on the table untouched, cold. I’ve never seen her this shocked, apart from when she heard the news about Dad. She’s listened without much comment apart from a few ‘Oh my Gods’ and ‘What were you thinking?’ for the last twenty minutes, and now she knows all of it. Well, almost all. There is one last thing.
‘So you see, Mum, it’s all worked out, or is working out for the best. Ransom can’t touch us anymore now, either, because guess what?’
Mum massages her temples, closes her eyes, sighs. ‘God only knows, Bryony. I’m so glad I was oblivious to this. If I’d known how much danger you’ve been in – that Nathan or whatever his bloody name is was shot and you were on the run – I’d have been in my grave.’
‘Yes. That’s why I kept it all from you … and Ransom is.’
‘Ransom is what?’ she asks wearily.
‘In his grave.’
Mum’s eyes snap open and her hand hovers over her mouth, fingers trembling. ‘He’s dead?’
‘Yep, thank God. The worthless piece of shit decided to do us all a favour and hang himself.’ There’s a note of triumph in my voice and there shouldn’t be – he was a human being after all. But I couldn’t care less to be honest.
Mum shakes her head in bewilderment and her eyes fill. ‘Oh my God … my God.’ Her trembling hands cover her face and her shoulders begin to shake.
I jump up, put my arm over her shoulder and whisper in her ear. ‘Hey, don’t cry, Mum – it means I’m free now. Immi and Nate too, don’t you see?’
