by Jodi Taylor
I thought about the last few days, blinking back tears. No, I wasn’t going to cry. That wouldn’t help at all.
Thomas reappeared, jumping the stream in one fluid moment. For a moment he was a perfect arc above the water and time stood still. Then he was beside me, blowing in my hair.
I was envious.
‘Well,’ he said. ‘Maybe one day you’ll be galloping across the moors, too.’ But I’d rather stopped believing things people were telling me.
‘Don’t.’
‘Don’t what?’
‘ Don’t stop believing. Ever. Without belief, there is no hope. And without hope, there is nothing. Always believe and then you’ll always have hope. ’
I stood on tiptoe and gently kissed his nose.
‘Shall we get back, or do you want to turn a few somersaults?’
‘Hey, that would be good, wouldn’t it? Imagine the world of show jumping if horses learned to do the Fosbury Flop.’
I couldn’t help laughing.
We made our way back down the lane, laughing and pushing each other and generally messing about. I was feeling so good that I completely forgot I was married. Until I walked into the kitchen and saw my husband sitting at the table. He was finishing his breakfast. Mrs Crisp was tidying away. The egg yolk was off the wall.
I stopped dead, feeling the laughter drain away. I nodded formally. ‘Good morning,’ although it was probably afternoon by now, and walked through into the living room. He followed me in.
‘Have you got a minute?’
I had more minutes than anyone I knew.
He looked better. Still a bit shell-shocked, but definitely better.
Feeling the need of a business-like setting and the reassurance of my own laptop, I sat at the table by the window. Perhaps he felt the same because he pulled out a chair opposite, pushed aside a mass of unpaid bills, and placed a small package on the table, saying awkwardly, ‘I meant to give this to you at our wedding, but I never got the opportunity. Please – open it.’
The paper was crinkled and there were great lumps of creased sticky tape all over it. He’d wrapped it himself. He’d overdone the tape so it was a bit of a struggle to get into it, but I persevered.
A small watch nestled inside a little black velvet bag. Tiny diamonds glinted around the face and the bracelet was delicately wrought. It looked old and it wasn’t in a jeweller’s presentation box. I looked at him.
‘It was my mother’s. You have pretty hands. I thought it would look nice. Try it on.’
I slipped it over my wrist and it fitted perfectly. I twisted my wrist backwards and forwards, watching light play on the tiny diamonds. It had been his mother’s. And he’d given it to me.
‘It’s … beautiful. Thank you.’
He took my hand. ‘I’m sorry.’
It was a simple apology, quietly made and meant far more to me than the overwrought utterances of the night before.
‘Are we friends again?’
I nodded.
‘No divorce?’
I shook my head.
He said, quietly, ‘Good,’ then cleared his throat and got up from the table to look out of the window.
Fortunately, the telephone rang. I heard Mrs Crisp answer it. After a moment, she tapped on the door.
‘Do you know where your car is?’
‘Oh Lord, no. I can’t even remember where I left it.’
‘Well, I don’t know where it was, but I know where it is now. That was Miss Bauer. She’s sitting in her office and has just watched your car being towed down the High Street.’
He was galvanised into action. Saving your marriage was all very well, but this was his Land Rover. ‘What?’
‘She’s still on the phone if you want her.’
He grabbed the receiver. ‘Tanya? When? Where? Shit. On my way. Mrs C., can you get me a taxi please?’
She went out. He grabbed his jacket.
‘Jenny, I’ve got to rush. It’s Friday and I bet they’re closed over the weekend. I’ll see you later.’
A door slammed and the room was full of the lack of Russell Checkland.
‘So, still married, then?’
‘It would seem so.’
‘Good or bad?’
‘God knows.’
‘Let’s have a look at the watch. Actually, it’s very pretty. Looks nice on you.’
I twisted my wrist again.
‘Interesting. He’s had it for years and never given it to Francesca. An idiot, but not a complete idiot.’
‘Can we not talk about Francesca for a bit?’
‘Good idea. What’s for lunch?’
He turned up about four hours later, tense and sulky and with a large red mark on his cheek. I could tell by the way he was standing that he was still pretty tightly wound. He said nothing for a moment, and then took a deep breath.
I raised an eyebrow. A reluctant grin stretched his face. You had to hand it to him – he did have a sense of humour.
‘She hit me.’
‘Who?’ I asked in bewilderment. Surely not Mrs Pargeter, our last, best hope against motorcar mayhem.
‘Tanya. I called in to thank her. The least I could do. And if I’d been able to get a word in edgeways, I would have. She no sooner clapped eyes on me than she launched herself from behind her desk, yelled at me in German for about ten minutes, and then thumped me. These Germans really fetch a wallop, you know. Apparently, if I don’t pull my stockings up (I’m sure she meant socks), anyway, if I don’t pull up some item of hosiery then she’s going to sort me out properly. She really is the most terrifying woman. I take my hat off to Andrew. Stop laughing. You are my wife and the companion of my bosom and I really expect more from you than giggling at my misfortunes. I’m in pain, you know.’
‘ Probably best not to mention that’s two women who’ve hit him in the space of three days. It only needs you to have a go and he’s got the hat-trick. ’
‘And it cost me about four times more than she’s worth to get the damn thing back again, as well.
‘Who, Tanya?’
‘No, my car, of course. Concentrate, Jenny.’
‘Sorry.’
He sighed. ‘Shall we have something to eat and a quiet night in? Pretend we’re a normal couple?’
I nodded.
Mrs Crisp regarded the bruise with an expert eye.
‘Do you want some steak?’
‘For internal or external application?’
She just smiled.
‘You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?’
She smiled again, eyes not quite as unfocused as they usually were at this time of day.
‘Dinner is served, Mrs Checkland.’
We sat down to our first meal as husband and wife. Russell kept up a constant flow of chatter, almost as if he was trying to keep something at bay with a wall of words. Finally, he drew breath.
‘It occurs to me I have amends to make. Would you like to do something nice tomorrow? Shall we go out somewhere? Where would you like to go?’
‘Rushby,’ said Thomas instantly. ‘Let’s go and see the sea.’
‘I’d like to go to the … coast,’ I said. ‘Can we go to Rushby?’
‘Excellent idea. We’ll have a wander along the beach, see if anything interesting has been washed up – a new roof would be good – fish and chips for lunch, have a go on the funicular railway, and, if you like, stop somewhere nice on the way back to eat. Good suggestion, wife. Feel free to make more whenever you feel like it.’
‘Thank you,’ I said, and the sarcasm wasn’t lost on him. He grinned.
His phone rang.
Everyone knew who it was.
He scrabbled in his pocket, dragged it out, looked at the screen, frowned, and put it away again, saying curtly, ‘Voicemail.’
‘Well,’ said Thomas. ‘I’m not happy that she rang, but thrilled he didn’t answer it.’
‘Not now, anyway.’
‘ No, really. That must be the first time ever that
he’s not taken a call from her. Imagine what’s going through what passes for her mind. And we have a trip out tomorrow. I like Rushby. I can do my Chariots of Fire thing along the beach. Have you ever seen it? It’s very impressive.’
‘Seriously?’
‘Yes, why not?’
‘It’s a good job you’re invisible.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
We set off the next morning. Thomas and I were still discussing his Chariots of Fire performance.
‘I’m so excited,’ he said, as we climbed into Russell’s recently rescued Land Rover.
‘Me too.’
Shame we never got there.
We bucketed down narrow lanes, taking what Russell called ‘the scenic route’.
‘He’s lost,’ said Thomas. ‘ How did he manage that? It’s not difficult, for crying out loud. You drive west for twenty minutes until you get wet and then you stop because you’ve fallen into the sea. Tchah! ’
I was about to comment on ‘Tchah!’ when Russell, who’d coaxed a reasonable speed from his rust-bucket, slammed on the brakes. Landscape whirled past the windscreen and the seat-belt dug painfully. We fishtailed across the lane and skidded to a halt in a shower of gravel. I bounced against my seat, sat stunned for a moment, and then rubbed my shoulder and neck.
Thomas hadn’t moved.
Russell was halfway out of the door when he remembered he was married to his passenger.
‘Are you all right?’
I nodded. I could talk later.
He disappeared.
‘What on earth …?’ said Thomas.
I released my seat-belt, thanking God Russell was too poor for air bags. We were on the wrong side of the road but, by Russell’s standards, safely parked. I followed my galloping husband on slightly wobbly legs. He climbed over a gate and disappeared.
‘Jenny, I’m so sorry. I think I may have encouraged you to marry a madman.’
‘Yes, we’re going to be discussing this later. Oh.’
We reached a dilapidated gate, set in a straggly, sickly looking hedge.
On the other side was one of those awful, overgrazed fields you sometimes see from a train. An old railway truck slouched in the corner. There was no grass anywhere. After all the rain, everything was just a sea of mud.
For a moment, I could see nothing, but Russell was heading towards the back corner where a lump of mud moved and became a large dog.
No, not a dog. A very small donkey, now struggling to escape away from him. He walked slowly towards it and stopped a few yards away, talking softly. It was pitifully thin. Bones stuck out everywhere. There was absolutely no sign of food or water anywhere. The poor thing was so hungry it had chewed on the wooden rails. I could see lighter wood showing through.
I climbed over the gate.
The little donkey showed signs of panic, so I stood still and Russell moved away and went to investigate the old railway truck.
I said to Thomas, ‘Can you do anything?’
He said, ‘I think so,’ and went to stand close by, hooves sinking into the mud. Lowering his head, he nuzzled behind her ears. She stood still, not knowing why. Her ears drooped and her eyes closed.
‘Well done.’
‘I don’t think that’s me. I think she’s just too weak to put up any sort of fight.’
Russell came out of the truck, his face tight and angry. He took my arm. ‘You don’t want to go in there, Jenny.’
‘Oh.’
‘I’m afraid so. Come on, let’s go and look at the one we might be able to save.’
Thomas had done his work well. She stood quietly, head lowered, too weak and too distressed to struggle.
Russell stood for a moment, looked thoughtfully over his shoulder at the gate and then at me.
‘Of course,’ I said. ‘Need you ask?’
‘Right then, I don’t think she can walk, so …’
He stepped forward, put one arm under her tail, another around her chest ,and lifted a very surprised little donkey off the ground. She hung, legs dangling, and tried to eat his jacket.
‘Can you get the gate?’
He set off, staggering slightly in the mud and I squelched along behind, a fully-fledged accessory to donkey-napping.
The gate was padlocked.
Carefully, he set her down and she immediately started to eat my coat. Thomas lowered his head again.
‘Sometimes,’ said Russell, ‘you can get these gates off their hinges. Can you give me a hand?’ We got our shoulders under the top rail and the gate fell apart, so we could add property damage to the charge sheet.
He picked up the donkey again and we all set off down the road.
I said, ‘Should I put the gate back?’
I’m quite law-abiding.
‘No point.’
Russell isn’t.
He was angry, but not with me, so I hurried after him.
‘Jenny, I’m going to put her in the back. Will you sit with her and just try to keep her calm? I don’t think you’ll have any problems. I’m sorry, she’s covered in mud and worse, but I can’t see any other way and I want Andrew to see her as quickly as possible. Do you mind?’
‘No,’ I said, truthfully and scrambled in. He heaved her over and Thomas was there as well.
I heard him speak briefly on his phone and then the engine started up. She had a bit of a skitter, but Thomas worked his magic and we got back to Frogmorton mostly unscathed.
We backed into the yard and both Kevin and Mrs Crisp came out to see why we were back so early. I don’t know what they were expecting, but it probably wasn’t this.
Russell appeared and I passed her over. He stood with her in his arms, her legs dangling again as everyone gawped.
‘What is it?’ asked Mrs Crisp, a little more unfocused than she usually was at this time of day and clutching her security tea towel.
‘It’s a dog?’ said Kevin, doubtfully.
‘Are you all right in there, Jenny? You got bumped about a bit.’
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Don’t worry about me. Stay with her in case she’s frightened.’
A car beeped in the lane and Andrew arrived. I had hoped Tanya might be with him, but he was alone. He crossed the yard and stood in front of Russell.
‘It’s a donkey,’ he said at last.
‘Good to see all those years at vet school have paid off,’ said Russell. ‘We lesser mortals were thinking it was a giant rabbit.’
Andrew looked around. ‘Where’s Jenny? You haven’t swapped her for a donkey, have you?’
‘I’m here,’ I said from the back. ‘I’m just a bit stiff and I can’t get out.’
Kevin gave me a hand and I tumbled gracelessly from the back of the Rover. ‘Good morning, Andrew. Thank you for coming.’
‘You know, you’re much too good for Russell. He’s never thanked anyone for coming in his life.’
‘Well, I have, but possibly in a completely different context. I don’t want to rush anyone, but although there’s not very much of her, I’d like to put her down soon. And she’s sucking my jacket again.’
‘Don’t let her do that – donkey digestion is quite fragile.’
Before anyone could move, however, she twisted her head, batted huge eyelashes at Russell, and widdled all down his front.
‘Oh, that’s a good sign,’ said Andrew. ‘Her kidneys are working. Kevin, can you put a few inches of warm water in a bucket for her, please. Don’t fill it up. I don’t want her to have too much too quickly.’
‘No,’ said Russell, grimly surveying his ex-trousers. ‘We wouldn’t want to overload her already fully functioning bladder.’
‘Let’s get her inside, then.’
We all trailed into the stables.
Russell put her down gently in the stall next to Boxer. She stood with all her legs at different angles, looking around her.
Andrew followed him in. ‘Have you ever noticed, Russ, sooner or later, all your women end up pissing on you from
a great height? Although not usually this soon into your relationship.’
‘Just see to the donkey, will you? That’s why you’re here.’
‘No, I’m here for a free lunch, if the wonderful Jenny will have me.’
‘It’s got nothing to do with Jenny. I’m the head of the household. I make the decisions here.’
I spoke up. ‘Andrew, please stay for lunch.’
‘Thank you, Jenny. I’d love to.’ He was crouched low, peering at her feet. ‘Where’s our neurotic nit-wit this morning?
‘Next door, breaking his neck trying to see what’s going on. Do you want me to take him out? Give her a bit of peace?’
‘No, donkeys are herd animals. She may find his presence reassuring.’
‘Are you sure? He’s not Brain of Britain, you know. It’s very likely she’s much brighter than he is.’
‘Russell, there are single-celled organisms that are brighter than your horse. Can you open the partition? Gently. We don’t want to frighten her.’
The result was not at all what we expected. We stepped back and she and Boxer got their first look at each other.
It was love at first sight. He stretched his neck towards her, blowing gently. She struggled to take a few steps, tottering like a cross between baby Bambi and Shaun the Sheep. She lifted her head to him, peering through those huge eyelashes, like Marilyn Monroe. Rachmaninov played in the background. Somewhere, a bluebird sang.
‘Oh,’ said Mrs Crisp. ‘How sweet.’
We all said, ‘Aaaaah.’ It was a magical moment.
She drew a deep breath and closed her eyes. Her whole body inflated. She braced her spindly legs.
‘Oh-oh,’ said Thomas. ‘Incoming.’
I always thought donkeys said, ‘Hee-haw.’ That’s how you always see it written. Nice and neat. And brief. Hee-haw.
Wrong. Our donkey goes:
‘EEEEEEEAAAAAWWWOOOOAARGGHHH,’
pauses briefly for the echoes to die away and then continues with:
‘EEEEEEEEEAAAAAWWWWWEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAWWWWWOOOOORRRRRGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH,’ tailing away to a ghastly bubbling groan like a belligerent cockerel having its throat cut. And it was loud. Good God, was it loud. Birds fell from the trees. The windows rattled. A low-flying jet did a quick U-turn and returned to base to complain about the noise.
‘Good grief!’
‘Bloody Nora,’ said Andrew. ‘What the hell have you unleashed on the world now, Russ?’
