by Jodi Taylor
Thomas and I watched a little television afterwards. I was relaxed and happy, looking around and thinking how much better everything was looking when the door opened and Russell Checkland walked in.
Chapter Six
My heart stood still. I stared up at the tall figure outlined by firelight and felt absurdly guilty – all my quiet pleasure in the day destroyed. I didn’t know what to do. My legs were underneath me so I was in no position to move quickly, should I have needed to do so.
‘Calm down,’ said Thomas. ‘ This is Russell Checkland. You played together when you were children. He took on your Aunt Julia and won. Just sit still and see what happens. ’
The world had stopped. Apart from the crackling fire and the irritatingly irregular tick-tock from the old clock in the corner, there was no sound. Gradually, I began to unclench.
Finally, he spoke. In a choked voice, he said, ‘Sorry.’
He stepped forward as he said it and I was shocked. I don’t know what had happened or where he’d been and I wasn’t going to ask, but he was suffering. The shadows around his eyes were dreadful. At some point, he’d slept in his clothes. Even now, he wasn’t completely sober. And he was exhausted. His hands were shaking. What could have done this to him?
I should say something, but I was so shocked that nothing was going to get through, so I stepped up to him and gently touched his arm. Close up, he smelled of drink, stale clothes, and sweat.
I went out into the kitchen. Mrs Crisp turned from the stove. I think she’d been crying. She said, ‘If you can get him upstairs, I’ll bring tea and maybe you can get him to eat some toast.’
That seemed a good idea, so I went back into the living room. He still stood exactly where I’d left him.
I took his hand and led him to his bedroom. He followed like a child.
I’m not sure what I’d expected his room to be like but it was just an ordinary room. Bigger than usual, with the crimson-covered bed on a small platform, but, apart from that, it was completely normal. Given its owner, I’d expected more. Some artistic statement maybe, or even monastic austerity, but there was nothing to grasp. No clues as to its owner’s character. Maybe he was afraid to reveal his inmost self. Maybe he didn’t know how. Everything was clean and in its proper place, but – bleak. Sad. Empty. In my head, I groped for the right word. Desolate. A room of disappointment. A framed photo of his mother stood on a chest of drawers by the window, but though I looked around as discreetly as I could, I couldn’t see any of Francesca anywhere. If they had been here, they were gone now.
I sat him on the bed and pulled off his jacket and shoes. His clothes were wet. I said, ‘Undress,’ and went to run the shower. When I came out, he was just pulling his shirt over his head. Apart from that one word, he still hadn’t said a thing.
I held the bathroom door open and he walked in. Closing it behind him, I turned down the bed and then picked up his clothes.
Mrs Crisp knocked gently. She passed me the tray, I handed her his wet things. She wouldn’t come in. This was my job now. I put the tray on the bedside table.
He emerged from the bathroom, rubbing his hair dry and sat on the bed, not looking at me.
I said, ‘Mrs Crisp brought you a tray,’ and turned to walk out. He caught my wrist and seemed to be struggling for words. Welcome to my world.
I said, ‘Do you want to talk to me?’
He nodded, so I pulled up a chair and sat down.
Nothing was emerging from this promising beginning, so I poured him some tea, sat quietly, and waited. No one knew better than me how tough this was.
He sipped the tea but pushed the toast away. I never thought I’d see Russell Checkland reject food.
He put his mug down and said, without looking at me, ‘I saw Francesca. The night before we were to be married. She told me she loved me. That she never should have agreed to marry Daniel. That it was me. Had always been me. Everything I’d always wanted to hear. She – offered herself.’
I could feel Thomas close beside me, doing everything he could. I leaned towards him for strength and comfort, not wanting to hear any more.
He told me anyway, his voice thick with exhaustion, grief, and, I think, shame.
‘It was what I’d always wanted. I’d wanted her for so long. She was coming back to me. I grabbed her. She smelled just the same. I …’
For God’s sake, don’t tell me this. What did he think he was doing?
I rose from the chair to run away.
He grabbed my wrist again. His voice cracked. ‘No, don’t go. You have to know.’
‘No, I don’t,’ I said, and struggled with him.
Thomas laid back his ears and bared his teeth. The atmosphere in the room suddenly got very ugly indeed.
Russell was aware of it without knowing why. I was never alone. He let me go, holding up his arms in a gesture of surrender.
‘Sorry. Sorry. Sorry.’ A flash of the old Russell came back. ‘As you see, Jenny, I’ve made a bit of a mess of things.’ Then it was gone again. His eyes clouded and his mouth set in a harsh, ugly line.
‘I … I said no. She laughed. I pushed her away. She hit me. It wasn’t pretty. She cried. She was nearly hysterical. I wouldn’t … She spat at me. I held her until she was calm. I was crying myself. I gave her some water. She left. I didn’t sleep.
‘The next morning she came back. In that dress. She took my breath away. I rang Andrew. Said I’d meet him there. I didn’t want him coming here and seeing her.’
‘You see, he always meant to go through with it,’ said Thomas. ‘That’s encouraging.’
‘She said I’d never marry you. That you weren’t – never mind. She thought it was a scheme to make her jealous. She mocked. I got angry and threw her out. Literally. I pushed her into the car and told her never to come back. I may have hurt her. I was sorry afterwards. She begged me. I said I had a new life now. She drove away. I went into town. Parked somewhere. Had a drink to calm down. It didn’t help, so I had another. And then some more. Then I got married.
‘Afterwards I … After we were married, I didn’t know what to do. I told myself to go somewhere and sober up and the next thing I knew I was waking up in the wildly misnamed honeymoon suite and you had gone. I thought you’d gone back to your aunt. I wouldn’t have blamed you.’
I topped up his tea.
‘If you want to go, I’ll understand and I’ll do everything I can to help you. Between us, we can fix this. You know what I mean.’
He wanted me to go.
I panicked. Full-blown, flat-out panic that robbed me of all speech, thought, movement, almost life itself. Everything just came apart and I was falling.
‘Breathe,’ said Thomas, softly. ‘Breathe, my darling girl. Just breathe.’
I did and the world came back into focus again.
Russell passed me his tea. ‘Here. Drink some of this.’
Things began to reassemble. My first thoughts were full of fear.
I was to be divorced. Annulled. Whatever. I couldn’t go back to live with Aunt Julia. She’d never let me out of her sight again. I wouldn’t even be able to go to the library on my own. They might even decide it was time for ‘that special place’.
My next thoughts were angry. This marriage was his idea. He’d pushed it through. He’d made a deal. We’d made a deal. I provided the cash. He provided the home. And now, because of that … because of Francesca, who only had to lift her beautifully manicured little finger, he was going to throw his bright, new start to the four winds and pull what little remained of his life down around his own ears. And mine.
My next thoughts were of others. Francesca wouldn’t live here. This wasn’t designer dilapidation. This was the real thing. She’d hate it. She’d make him sell. Without my money, he’d have to. Even if he got a reasonable price for it – which he wouldn’t – Francesca was expensive and sooner or later, the money would be gone. And then Francesca would be gone. Again.
And if he did induce her to l
ive here, she would have Mrs Crisp out in a flash. An eccentric housekeeper who drank a bottle of sherry a day was not Francesca’s style at all. She’d make her go. Or, more likely, she’d make Russell do it and that would break both their hearts.
And Kevin, granted a brief cruel glimpse of normal life before being shunted back on to the streets again where he certainly wouldn’t survive.
And Boxer; what would become of a neurotic ex-racehorse who could be terrorised by a line of washing flapping in the breeze?
I looked at the state of him and wondered whether to talk to him now or go back to my room, which was what every bit of me clamoured to do. Perhaps it would be better to wait until morning when everyone was calmer.
Even as I watched him, he opened his eyes. ‘Jenny, are you able to speak to me?’
I nodded.
‘The most important thing at the moment is that you don’t suffer from my stupidity. I will sort all this out. I’ll make sure you’re all right, you’ll see.’
I felt a spurt of unaccustomed anger run through me.
‘Oh, for God’s sake, Checkland, just stop with that … bollocks, will you?
That pulled him up short.
‘I’ve lost count of the … number of times you’ve said that to me. Lies then. Lies now.’
It was probably a bit like being savaged by a wet tissue, but it was effective in its unexpectedness. He looked completely taken aback. I remembered Tanya, who dealt with Andrew simply by announcing what she was going to do and then going right ahead and doing it. I took advantage of his surprise.
‘Exactly what do you want, Russell?’
He gaped at me. ‘What?’
‘A … simple question. Until three days ago, you wanted … me. My money, anyway. You wanted this house. To paint again. To have a fresh start. Now you say you don’t want me. Now it’s Francesca … Make up your … mind, Russell and … let … me … know.’
I got up. I’d shot my bolt. I needed to go somewhere quiet. Thomas came forward and stood between us. My shield.
‘Well, that was unexpected but satisfactory. Let’s go now while he’s still trying to regain his wits. Always have the last word. ’
We headed towards the door.
‘Wait, Jenny, come back a minute.’
‘Don’t go back. Stand by the door and look as if you can’t wait to get away. Yes, that’s very good.’
‘I don’t want you to leave.’
I looked at the tray. ‘You’ve got tea and toast. Everything you need.’
‘No, I mean I don’t want you to leave Frogmorton. I told you I sent her away. I was just trying to tell you what happened. To offer you the option. Where did you get the idea I wanted you to go? I meant what I said about a new beginning. We did get married, didn’t we?’
‘You call this a … marriage?’
My shout surprised all of us.
‘You were drunk. You turned up with your mistress. You –ʼ
‘She’s not my mistress.’
His shout bounced off the walls.
‘You’re not sleeping with her?’
‘No.’
‘But …’
‘Oh, I don’t deny I would have and there have been some steamy sessions that drove me insane, but no. Until she turned up here …’ He stopped.
‘So her plan is that I move out, she leaves Daniel, and you install her in my place?’
I have to say, put that baldly, it did sound bad, but that wasn’t the real reason for the look on his face. He was rummaging through his probably very hazy memories of the last few days and realising …
‘ She never told him she would leave Daniel. She’s never going to leave Daniel. Or his money. Or his nice house. Or his useful contacts. She just wanted Russell to call off the wedding. She wants sole ownership of Russell Checkland. I tell you, Jenny, if you don’t stand your ground now, she’ll get it. Think of the damage she can do. If you let her. ’
‘What can I do?’
‘You’ve got to fight for him, Jenny. If you think he’s worth it.’
I looked at Russell again, worn out, emotionally and physically. I thought of those few golden weeks and contrasted them against the bitter humiliation of this marriage. How had I managed to get myself into this? Had I really been so stupid as to fall for the unorthodox charm of Russell Checkland?
Apparently, yes.
Idiot!
I turned to the door again. The emotional strain of the last three days had taken its toll on everyone and I just wanted to get away.
‘Jenny.’
I went back to the bed, took his empty mug from him, and set it down.
‘Go to sleep, Russell. Talk tomorrow.’
He struggled to sit back up again. ‘Will you still be here?’
‘I have to be. I left my home for you. Unlike you, I don’t have choices.’
‘Excellent exit line,’ said Thomas.
Mrs Crisp was coming down the corridor with a mug of hot chocolate.
‘I thought you might like this, Mrs Checkland.’ She peered into my face. ‘Oh, my dear.’
I allowed her to help me to my room. She settled me on the bed and spread a soft blanket across my legs.
‘Don’t you come down again tonight. I’ll lock up and see to everything. You just rest now. Things will seem better in the morning.’
I nodded, still clutching the too-hot mug.
She said sadly, ‘He’s just a lost boy, you know.’
After she’d gone, I got up and locked the door. Not that there was the slightest reason to do so, but I felt I was making a statement.
I sat in the window seat and stared out over the dark garden.
‘I was proud of you, Jenny. You really stepped up there.’
I shook my head.
‘ Don’t you remember? When we first met, you asked me why I was here and I told you that you were special. Well, you just proved it. I’ve always known and now others will know it too. ’
I was angry. ‘Thomas …’
‘I know,’ he said, gently. ‘ But as always, you underestimate yourself. The rest of the world does too, including that idiot in the next room, and that’s fine because by the time they realise their mistake, you’ll have everything you want. But don’t you fall into the same trap. ’
‘But …’
‘If life was easy then everyone would get it right first time. A few do. You might be one of them.’
He’d changed. In this last hour he’d become – tougher.
So had I, I think. We had a future to fight for.
I slept a little and was up early. My instinct was to stay in my room until Russell had gone out, but Thomas wasn’t having any of that.
‘It’s your house,’ he said, firmly. ‘Get out there and mark your territory.’
‘You want me to spray?’
‘ If you feel it’s necessary, but why not try a more conventional approach first? See how that works out. However, if you’re hell-bent on spraying then I’m right behind you. Figuratively speaking, you understand. ’
As he intended, my world lightened a little. He was right. If I was going to navigate my way safely through the rocky reefs of Francesca and Russell’s relationship, I wasn’t going to be able to do it from my bedroom.
I went downstairs to speak to Mrs Crisp. Kevin was just finishing his breakfast. He nodded a brief good morning, grabbed his mug, and departed.
I chose toast because it was quick and easy and I wanted to talk to Mrs Crisp. I wanted to ask her if she would teach me how to cook. It was all very well Thomas talking about staying and fighting, but I wanted to acquire skills that would enable me to live in the world I could see myself being evicted into before very long. I had a feeling Francesca would be back and Russell couldn’t say no for ever.
‘Yes, of course,’ she said when I asked her if she would teach me to cook. ‘What a good idea.’ If she had any idea why I wanted to learn, she kept it to herself.
‘I did … cooking at school,’ I
said, trying to show willing. ‘But I wasn’t very good.’
‘That’s no problem,’ she said, briskly. ‘We’ll start with the basics. How about I show you how to poach an egg? To put on your toast.’
Right now?
‘Um, yes, all right,’ I said, losing my nerve now we were about to start.
Thomas chuckled.
‘Stop that,’ I said. ‘Or you’ll be the one eating it.’
He sighed. ‘I’m a horse. We don’t eat eggs.’
‘You ate my Easter egg last year.’
‘That doesn’t count. Pay attention, 007.’
There followed pans of water, salt, eggs, simmering, and then she laid a perfectly poached egg on my toast and said, ‘Your turn.’
There followed a period of activity and anxiety and then we threw the pan away. The poached egg was still in it.
‘What happened?’ asked Thomas, as we made our way up the lane to get some fresh air and recover a little.
‘I’m not sure,’ I said. ‘I did everything exactly as Mrs Crisp did, but the egg just wouldn’t come out of the pan.’
‘Yes. I’ve never seen an egg spot-weld itself to a pan before.’
I shook my head, depressed at my failure.
‘It was funny, though. I think my favourite bit was when she seized the pan with both hands and shook it and the yolk went up the wall.’
I tried to keep a straight face.
Up on the moors, I sat on a wide flat rock by the stream and watched Thomas run.
He thundered effortlessly up the hill, mane and tail flying, kicking up his heels for the sheer joy of living. I watched his muscles bunch and stretch as he lengthened his stride and galloped along the crest of the hill, a dark silhouette against the blue sky, encapsulating all the grace and power and beauty and freedom I would never know.
While he was gone, I bent over the water and looked for fish. The water was brown but clear. I could see all the way down to the stony bed. There were no fish that I could see.
