by Jodi Taylor
‘Why do you keep calling her poor Jenny?’ he interrupted. ‘She appears perfectly normal to me. She’s not deficient in any way or missing anything vital. You’re not, are you?’ he added in a loud whisper to me. ‘Because if you are then this is the moment to tell me. I can take it, I promise you.’
I shook my head. Once again, he’d defused the moment.
‘Now, anything else before we go?’
He began to make all he preparations necessary for extricating oneself from one of Aunt Julia’s sofas.
‘Bloody hell, Jenny, we may be here for life. That remark I made about the cushions applies to the sofas as well.’
‘Really?’ said Aunt Julia nastily. ‘Do tell us, Mr Checkland, with whose money will you be buying these new sofas?’
Russell grinned at her.
Her face darkened alarmingly. Thomas snorted.
‘Language,’ I said, in my head.
‘Am I to understand, Russell, that you will be supporting your wife on her money alone?’ asked Uncle Richard, and I guessed this was the crunch. If he showed any weakness now, or tried to explain, or gloss over, or lie …
‘Well, mostly yes. Although there’s the money from renting out grazing, of course. 50p per sheep, you know,’ he explained to Aunt Julia and I think we all enjoyed her expression of baffled confusion. ‘And they improve the land no end. And it’s up to them to maintain the boundaries. Not the sheep, of course, the tenants. So as you can see, it’s a sweet deal.’
Uncle Richard, in his own way, was a great deal more relentless than Aunt Julia.
‘So would it be fair to state then, that you bring nothing at all to this unequal marriage and you are marrying my niece solely for her money? Your father would turn in his grave at such behaviour from a Checkland.’
That really was the wrong thing to say.
Russell was on his feet in one fluid movement. I came up with him, ready to do what I could. His voice was far more icy than anything my aunt could never achieve. She was tall but he was taller. He looked down his nose at her, but spoke to Uncle Richard.
‘I think, sir, that in the drama of the moment you have become confused when you speak of inequality. Perhaps you have been so taken up listening to Mrs Kingdom’s unhelpful statements that you have not had time to consider the benefits to your niece of having a husband in possession of a twelve-roomed Victorian farmhouse with extensive outbuildings, stables, and thirty-three acres of prime grazing land, with a conservative estimate of, at the last count, fractionally over £750,000, fifty per cent of which is being transferred into my future wife’s name even as we speak. I know my fiancée was well provided for by her parents, but I shall be astonished (although very pleased, of course) if she brings anything like that sum to our marriage. Being in possession of these facts, sir, I would be grateful if you could indicate the areas of inequality that give you so much concern.’
I stood beside him, staunch but shaking, oscillating wildly between fear, admiration, and now, hope.
Uncle Richard sat back, looking thoughtful. Aunt Julia, however, was not done.
‘That’s as maybe,’ she said, dismissing twelve rooms and thirty-three acres with a flick of her wrist. ‘But I must inform you, Mr Checkland, that po – that Jenny’s precarious state of health precludes her from living anywhere except quietly in her own home, here with us.’
This was crunch time for me. I would be locked away. Once again, he stepped in.
‘I knew it,’ he said to me. ‘You’re a vampire and you have to come home every night to your coffin in the cellar.’
I inhaled the lovely smell of warm ginger biscuits and whispered, ‘I live in the attic.’
‘Then you’re an android and have to return to plug yourself in every night? Not a problem – we’ll get batteries. Or – how about a really long extension lead?’
He was doing it on purpose. Aunt Julia was unused to being mocked. She swelled alarmingly. I was surprised to find I was almost enjoying this.
‘If, Mr Checkland, you had taken the trouble to become acquainted with my niece instead of just meeting her at a party and then making this ridiculous proposal so soon afterwards, then you would know very well why Jenny should continue to live here.’
She turned to me and her face softened. ‘Jenny, I have your best interests at heart. We both do. This – man – has met you once, decided you can be easily influenced, and is here solely because he’s desperate for money and can’t get it any other way. Please don’t allow yourself to believe what he tells you. Far from owning a large and prosperous home as he’s led you to believe, his house is falling down – a virtual ruin. You’re his last-ditch attempt to avoid having to sell up.
‘And besides …’ but she stopped there. Even Aunt Julia couldn’t bring herself to mention the most important reason I shouldn’t marry him was because of the scandalous link with her daughter. I saw her lips move, but she just couldn’t get it out.
Russell watched her struggle for an interested minute and then said brightly, ‘Oh, none of that is really a problem. You’ve obviously forgotten Jenny and I have known each other off and on for about fifteen years now. She’s been at Frogmorton this last fortnight, helping with the painting and what-not, so she’s got a pretty good idea of the state of the place. And frankly, Julia, I can’t see there would be any problems with her living quietly in the country, happy and busy and most importantly, included.’
‘Are you telling me she’s been working there? For two weeks? You’ve been making her work?’
‘Well, you’re hard to please. First you’re peeved because you think we’ve hardly met and now you’re all bent out of shape because we have. You need to make up your mind, Julia, so we can move on.’
Aunt Julia made a valiant comeback. ‘Her doctors …’
‘Oh yes,’ he interrupted. ‘I knew there was something. Jenny, I’m sorry. Another reason I was late is because I was on the phone to Peter Westall. You won’t know him, but our mothers were pretty good friends and so are we. Anyway – Julia, you’ll be thrilled to hear this – he’s one of the leading authorities in his field and he’s promised to see Jenny very quickly if we care to make an appointment. I think it would be quite useful to get Jenny checked out by someone with fresh eyes and ideas and get his recommendations, and then we can all rest easy knowing that Jenny is benefiting from top-notch expertise. What do you think?’
She still wasn’t giving up. ‘I have always had complete confidence in her current –’
‘I’m sure you have,’ he said, smiling at her. ‘And the Jenny we see today is a testament to your care for her.’
There was something going on here.
‘No, I’m all at sea, too,’ said Thomas.
‘Right, well, if that’s it then we’ll be off. We’re meeting my cousin and his friend for a meal. Do you fancy a trip to the cinema, Jenny? There’s some sort of Chain Saw/Zombie/Vampire/Creepy Psychopath thing on. Or Hugh Grant, of course, if you prefer,’ he said, catching a glimpse of my aunt’s face.
She opened her mouth.
‘Let it go, Julia,’ said Uncle Richard.
‘But …’
‘That’s enough.’
‘Lovely to have met you again,’ said Hurricane Russell, ushering me out of the door. ‘Get a warm coat, Jenny, it’s cold outside. No idea what time we’ll be back. Do you have a key?’
I shook my head.
Wordlessly, Uncle Richard opened a drawer in the little hall table and handed him one. It was that easy.
Russell handed it to me.
‘Here you go, Jenny. Don’t lose it. I’ll get you a key ring. You’ll need keys for my place – sorry – our place as well. What a lot there is to think about. My head’s whirling. Bye.’
He slammed the front door behind us.
‘Well, he said, climbing into his diseased Land Rover. ‘That went well.’
We pulled out into the road to the alarm of a passing white van. There was hooting.
�
�Look on the bright side,’ said Thomas. ‘ The way he drives, we’ll all be dead long before he can marry you so none of this really matters.’
We clattered down the High Street. Watching normal people doing normal things was somehow reassuring. Gradually I felt the tension drain away, leaving me sick, tired, and weak.
‘I’m going to drop you here,’ he said. ‘Get us a table in The Copper Kettle and I’ll park this beast. I’ll be with you in five minutes.’
He pulled over and it seemed to me there was less outraged hooting. Maybe I was beginning not to notice it either.
He drove off.
Thomas and I stood on the pavement and drew breath. ‘Do you think this is how it’s going to be from now on?’ I asked him.
‘With a bit of luck. Shall we get out of the rain?’
We ducked into The Copper Kettle and only when I was actually in there with the smell of fresh ground coffee all around me did I realise how much I was gagging for some tea. I stood at the ‘Please wait here to be seated’ sign. And stood and stood. All the waitresses seemed to be busy doing something at the other end, although at this time of the day and the weather being what it was, the place was almost deserted.
I stood for a long time. Beside me, Thomas shifted but said nothing. Occasionally, one of them would glance over and there would be giggling. I felt my face grow hot. Time passed.
‘Stand your ground,’ said Thomas.
‘Why?’
‘You’ll see.’
‘I don’t need any more grief today.’
‘Just wait and see what happens.’
More time passed. I didn’t know whether to just go and sit at an empty table or what. I looked around the room. I could sit anywhere, but the board said to wait. On the other hand, I’d just fought a great battle. Well, I’d stood to one side while a great battle was fought on my behalf, but I had been on the winning team, so …
‘Why are you still standing here?’ said Russell, bounding through the door at the speed of light. He looked down to the clump of waitresses at the far end. Seeing him, one of them detached herself and came up to us, a practised smile on her face.
‘Welcome,’ she said to him. ‘This way, please.’
He didn’t move. She repeated herself a little more loudly. Finally, he seemed to see her.
‘No, not you,’ he said, and I gasped. He looked over her shoulder. ‘Hey, Sharon.’
A very pretty, very plump girl came out from round the back of a screen. I guessed she was the most junior member of staff and, as such, would be doing most of the work.
‘Hello, Mr Checkland,’ she said, shyly.
‘Hello there, how are you? Jenny, this is Sharon. She’s Mrs Crisp’s niece.’
We smiled at each other. Her face was beautiful with huge brown eyes and blonde ringlets. Her teeth and skin were perfect. But she was a large girl and her hips bumped some of the tables as she passed. One of the girls laughed. I watched her blush painfully and decided I would never come here again.
‘The staff here are hopeless,’ said Russell, and the waitress’s smile abruptly disappeared. ‘Can you find us a table please, Sharon?’
‘Of course,’ she said and led the way to the one in the window. She produced menus as we got settled. Russell ordered tea. ‘Teacakes. Plenty of them. And when we’ve finished those, we’ll want to have a look at the cake trolley, please.’
She scribbled, smiled beautifully, and walked away, knocking against a chair as she went.
‘What a lovely girl,’ said Thomas. ‘The face of an Irish princess.’
I looked at him in surprise.
‘I met one once.’
‘So,’ said Russell. ‘How do you think it went?’
‘Peter Westall is a hairdresser, isn’t he? Or a chain of chemists. Or something you spray on athlete’s foot. You made him up.’
He just laughed again. I obviously wasn’t going to get an answer. Maybe it was best I didn’t know. Plausible deniability.
Sharon brought our order and Russell set to as if he hadn’t seen food for days instead of a couple of hours.
I drank my tea, got a refill, nibbled a tea cake, had another, and allowed myself to be tempted to a strawberry tart.
‘Afternoon tea,’ he said. ‘Best meal of the day. Everyone has happy memories of afternoon tea. Nothing to beat it after an emotional day. Do you want that cream slice?’
I shook my head and then he had a custard tart as well. I looked at his long, lean body and pondered yet another of the world’s injustices.
He looked up and the bill materialised seconds afterwards. He pulled out his wallet and said to Sharon, ‘Do you pool your tips here?’
She shook her head regretfully. She was at the bottom of the food chain, tip-wise.
He settled the bill and then stood up, ostentatiously holding a £20 note between his long fingers. ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘Excellent service.’ She went red with pleasure and gratification and tucked it safely away.
He helped me on with my coat and made his usual dash for the door. Another waitress, maybe hoping for a generous tip herself, opened it for him.
He lowered his voice but I heard him quite clearly. He said, ‘Don’t ever ignore this lady again,’ and the harmonics in his voice lifted the hairs on my neck. And then he was out of the door and striding down the pavement.
I stood in the rain and watched him go. People scurried past, heads down against the rain. Everyone was eager to get home. Shop lights were reflected in the glistening pavements. I suddenly felt more alone than I ever had in my entire life.
‘Tell me,’ said Thomas, quietly.
‘It’s all right for him. He’ll go back home to Frogmorton at the end of the day but I have to go back to Aunt Julia and Uncle Richard and I’ll be alone.’
‘ No, you won’t. You’re never alone. I’ll be with you. I’ll help you think what to say and protect you while you say it. We’ll manage, Jenny. Just like we always do. ’
‘Nothing’s actually changed, though, has it? I’m just going to be overlooked by a whole new set of people. I’ve burned my bridges for nothing.’
‘ I doubt your aunt and uncle will say anything to you tonight. And possibly not tomorrow either. And here he comes. Wonder how far he got before he realised he’d lost you. ’
Russell and I looked at each other in the rain.
‘Are we having our first row?’
I shook my head.
‘Are you having second thoughts?’
‘Tell him,’ advised Thomas. ‘ This is normal. The two of you need to establish ground rules. He’ll stand up for you and protect you and kill dragons for you, but he won’t always know that sometimes, he’s the dragon. ’
He pulled me gently out of the rain. ‘What is it?’
I marshalled words. ‘I’m leaving the … safety and security of my home for a whole new world. I have just put … my entire future in your hands and I’m frightened.’
He said nothing. Oh God, had he changed his mind? Cars swished past in the rain. Hardly anyone was about now. Thomas moved to my side, standing really close for reassurance.
‘Do you want me to take you home?’
Did I? At that moment, my attic room felt pretty good. Thomas and I could watch a little TV, argue over the news. I could make some hot chocolate and go to bed and listen to the rain on the roof.
‘And tomorrow?’ said Thomas. ‘ What will you do tomorrow night? Watch a little TV, drink hot chocolate, and go to bed? Of course, it might not be raining, so that will be different, won’t it?’
‘Thomas, I don’t know what to do.’
‘ Then go to the cinema. Even if you do change your mind, at least we’ll have seen a film and we haven’t done that for ages. Let’s at least have a night out and we’ll decide what to do in the morning. ’
‘I’d like to go to the cinema.’
‘Then you shall,’ He pulled my arm through his and we set off, albeit at a slower pace. ‘Are you feeling a bit o
verwhelmed?’
I nodded.
‘I should have realised. But listen, Jenny, you must speak up. I’m selfish and I’m not bright. You need to tell me things. Please don’t be one of those awful women who expect me to guess what’s wrong and then sulk when I don’t.’
Francesca? I wondered.
‘Just what I was thinking.’
I nodded. ‘All right. I promise to complain … bitterly at every opportunity.’
‘That’s my girl.’
Tanya and Andrew were waiting in the foyer, arguing about which film to watch.
‘Jenny?’ said Russell. ‘It’s your night, you choose.’
I chose the Chain Saw/Zombie/etc. film to the instant approbation of Thomas, Russell, and Tanya. Andrew wanted to see something with sub-titles. We stared at him in disbelief.
‘What?’ he said, ‘Unlike you troglodytes I have intellectual depth.’
‘No you don’t,’ said Russell. ‘You have the intellectual capacity of a small rock. You’re a Checkland. I won’t have you sullying the family name like that.’
Russell bought the tickets, Andrew bought the popcorn and in we went. I sat on the end, next to the aisle. Thomas stood next to me. I watched his face in the flickering light. He thoroughly enjoyed every minute. I occasionally felt guilty about him. I didn’t get out much, so neither did he.
Russell ate all his popcorn and most of mine.
I stared at the screen and worried.
Chapter Four
Russell was hungry again after the film. We stood and they argued over Indian or Chinese, settling on Chinese, which had the advantage of being just around the corner. They bickered amiably amongst themselves as we ate. I nibbled bits of this and that. Thomas wandered around looking at the décor and the other diners, obviously determined to extract maximum enjoyment from our night out. The most exciting bit however, was yet to come.
There was a toast to our future happiness. Tanya wanted to see the ring. Andrew wanted to know when. And where. We were obliged to disappoint both of them.
