By the time Jamie fell asleep, she felt happier. She’d resigned herself to the fact that buildings didn’t matter, that the most important thing to preserve was her relationship with Jack, and she wasn’t going to fall out with the one person she had left in the world over a pile of old bricks.
16
Having made her resolution, the very last thing Jamie wanted to do was go and apologize to Rod Deacon. But she had to, before it was too late. She prayed to God that he hadn’t de-instructed his solicitors on the back of what she’d told him, but as they’d heard nothing to indicate that, she presumed he was just biding his time. Meanwhile, she was going to have to bite the bullet. Eat humble pie. Swallow her pride. She cursed herself for her impulsiveness. If only she hadn’t flown off the handle the week before, she wouldn’t have to humiliate herself now.
On Monday morning, she dressed carefully for the confrontation, wanting to look calm and collected and to dispel the image of last week’s ranting harpy. She put on the linen skirt she’d worn to the bank and tied back her hair neatly. Happy that she looked businesslike, and trying to ignore the dread that was churning in her stomach, she ran out to the car before she could change her mind and bottle out.
To her annoyance, both cars were parked outside Owl’s Nest. She didn’t really want Bella as an audience while she grovelled, but she had little choice. She rapped on the door and waited. And waited. After what seemed like an age, but was probably only a minute, she rapped again. She had to admit she felt a certain relief when there was still no reply. She needn’t have the conversation she’d been dreading after all. She was scrabbling in her bag to find a pen and paper, in order to write a note and explain the situation, when Rod answered the door.
He looked absolutely terrible. He was wearing a white T-shirt and boxer shorts, still not dressed even though it was lunchtime. He hadn’t shaved either, and his eyes were bloodshot. His hair stuck out at all angles. There was a definite smell of last night’s beer.
Jamie recoiled slightly, but was grateful. If he’d come to the door looking crisp and fresh and irresistible, she would have found the task even harder.
She coughed to clear her throat.
‘I’ve come to apologize,’ she began carefully. ‘And to say – just ignore what I said the other day. I overreacted. I was exhausted. And a bit… emotional. I’ve got everything a bit more in perspective now.’ She smiled. ‘The deal’s still on. Pretend I never said anything. As soon as the solicitors have done their thing, we can sign.’
He stared at her dully. When he spoke his voice was gruff.
‘There’s not a lot of point now.’
Jamie frowned. This wasn’t quite what she’d been steeling herself for. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Bella and I have split up. So there’s no need for the comfortable family home any more.’ His tone dripped acid bitterness. ‘Added to which, I won’t be able to afford it. Not with an ex-wife to support.’
Jamie tried to take in what he was saying, genuinely shocked. Rod and Bella had seemed so together the other day. For heaven’s sake, they’d both come home in their lunch hour for a romp. What on earth could have happened?
‘I’m sorry,’ Jamie faltered, really not sure what to say.
‘Don’t be.’
There was an uncomfortable silence.
‘Do you want to… talk about it?’
He looked at her without really seeing her.
‘No. I don’t think I do.’
But he made no move to shut the door. Jamie hovered awkwardly, not sure what she was supposed to do. She hated to leave him in this state. He looked utterly distraught, and her initial instinct was to comfort him. He looked bereft, distressed, inconsolable, like a small boy who’d lost his mummy while out shopping. The urge to take him in her arms was almost instinctive.
But then she remembered how she herself had suffered at his hands. Perhaps Bella had undergone a similar indignity; flown the coop because of some callous, unfeeling action on Rod’s part. She remembered how desperate she had been to get away from him, all those years ago. She felt all her pity evaporate at the memory, and her heart harden.
‘Well, no doubt you did something to deserve it,’ she said, unable to stop the words coming out. He looked as if he’d been slapped.
‘What?’ His expression was pained.
‘Come on, Rod. We both know what you’re capable of. You don’t appreciate what you’ve got, and then you go and dump on them from a great height. Basically because you can only think about yourself.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘Are you telling me you can’t remember? Did it all mean so little to you?’
Shit, thought Jamie. She was losing control again. This was exactly what she hadn’t meant to do, open old wounds and show her feelings. Why couldn’t she keep her trap shut? She should have phoned. Or written a letter. Or contacted him through his solicitor.
But then, why shouldn’t she say her piece? Did he honestly think he could sail through life treating women so badly? At the time, of course, she hadn’t had the strength to confront him. She had felt so hurt, she’d just wanted to hide, pretend it had never happened.
He was gaping at her, uncomprehending.
‘Jamie. Please explain. I never did understand what went wrong. Why did you disappear like that? That day by the river. I thought… I mean… it was special, wasn’t it?’
He was almost pleading with her for reassurance. Jamie gave a cynical laugh.
‘Yeah. So special that you went and told your brother. You told your brother, Rod, and made me a laughing stock. You might as well have taken an advert out in the Ludlow Herald…’
Even now, Jamie could feel the bitter humiliation and anger burning up inside her, just as it had when Lee had laughed at her in the market place.
‘What?’ Rod was looking at her in bewilderment.
‘Surely you didn’t expect Lee to keep his mouth shut? I suppose you couldn’t resist boasting, could you? That’s what blokes do, isn’t it? I suppose it was my fault for thinking you were different. But you couldn’t resist crowing about getting your leg over. Because that’s all it was to you, wasn’t it? A quick how’s your father down by the river, then back to the pub to tell your mates. Stupid me, for thinking it was something special. But no, it was just a bet. A fifty-quid bonk. How do you think that made me feel?’
Feeling sure she’d said enough, Jamie backed hastily towards her car, snatching for the handle. She had to get away. All the fury she’d felt was as all-consuming as it had been that day, and she wanted to pour out her feelings, make him realize what he’d done to her. Tell him that she’d never been able to trust anyone since. She was opening the door to get in when Rod grabbed her by the arm.
‘Jamie,’ he said. ‘I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about. But I promise you I didn’t breathe a word. Not to anyone.’
She stared at him, wanting to believe. But the wounds were still raw, even after all these years.
‘You would say that, wouldn’t you? I mean, you couldn’t admit to it, could you? It was a despicable, cowardly –’ she groped around for the final insult ‘– ungentlemanly thing to do.’
She looked down at his hand on her arm, as if his very touch repulsed her.
‘Excuse me.’
He released her immediately, backing off. She slid into the seat and turned the ignition with shaking hands. As she drove away, she wiped away the tears from her eyes as she realized that, not only had she behaved like a complete idiot yet again, but Bucklebury Farm was well and truly fucked and she’d only got herself to blame.
Rod stared disbelievingly after Jamie’s car, finding it hard to comprehend what he had just heard, and trying to ascertain in his head just what it was he’d been accused of. He walked back into his house in a daze, got dressed, picked up his car keys and walked out again, as if sleepwalking. The few facts she’d given him were churning round, gradually connecting, until everything finally fe
ll into place. He headed determinedly for the town, roaring up through the sweeping streets, causing heads to turn and pedestrians to jump out of the way, unused as the inhabitants of Ludlow were to aggressive driving.
He abandoned his car recklessly in the market place, not caring if he got a parking ticket, and strode along the pavement, eyes fixed straight ahead, jaw clenched. Shoppers and tourists scurried out of his way, realizing that this was a man on a mission. He reached the pub where he knew he’d find his brother. He pushed open the door, ignoring the surprised greeting of people he’d known for years, trying to accustom his eyes to the smoky gloom. The thud and boom of a fruit machine drowned out a tinny tape of sixties hits that had been played so many times it was stretched beyond recognition.
Lee was sitting at the bar as usual, holding court amongst his minions, a packet of John Player Special topped by a huge gold lighter resting next to his fresh pint.
‘Hey, bro – to what do we owe the pleasure? Another pint for my little brother, please, barman.’
Rod’s expression didn’t falter as he jabbed towards the door with his thumb.
‘Outside.’
‘What?’
‘I said outside. I want a word.’
Lee made a mystified face to his fellow drinkers, shrugged and followed Rod out into the market place.
‘What’s this all about?’
Rod replied with a well-aimed blow to Lee’s jaw.
‘Jesus!’ Lee reeled back in shock, clutching his face, indignant. ‘What the bloody hell was that for?’
‘What did you say to her?’
‘Who?’
‘Jamie Wilding. What the fuck did you say to her, you bastard?’
‘Jamie Wilding?’ Lee looked every inch the aggrieved innocent. ‘I haven’t seen her for years.’
‘Exactly. Neither have I. Because of something you told her.’
A dim light of recollection came on in Lee’s eyes.
‘Ah…’
A little knowing smirk appeared on his lips at the long-buried memory. Enraged, Rod rewarded his brother with another punch. Then another. By the time he’d reached the fourth, Lee realized that if he didn’t start defending himself he’d be dead meat. He aimed a blow at Rod in retaliation, who stepped neatly out of the way and tripped him up. Lee lay sprawled in the gutter. He was about to scrabble to his feet when he found Rod’s trainer resting on his neck. He grabbed his ankle, desperately trying to pull him off.
‘You’re choking me!’
Rod had put just enough weight on his throat to stop him moving. Lee shut his eyes, thinking that if he could feign unconsciousness Rod might remove his foot. But his brother remained steadfast.
‘Not until you tell me what you said to her.’
By now, punters were pouring out of the pub to watch the fun, cheering the brothers on. It certainly livened up a dull Monday lunchtime. Behind them, the landlord was jumping up and down in agitation.
‘Leave it out, lads. I don’t want trouble here. You’ll have the coppers round any minute.’
Rod leaned forwards, increasing the pressure slightly. Lee gave a strangled gargle.
‘OK, OK! I told her you’d shagged her for a bet.’
‘Right. Thank you.’ Rod took his foot away and Lee sprang to his feet. The two brothers faced each other in a standoff, Lee on the defensive, fists clenched, and Rod fixing him with a cold, hard, steely glare.
‘Do you want to tell me why?’
‘She wasn’t good enough for you, Rod. She’d have chewed you up and spit you out. Her sort don’t give a toss for the likes of us.’
‘You never gave me the chance to find out for myself, did you?’
Lee jabbed Rod in the chest, cocky now he was back on his own two feet.
‘She was toying with you, mate. You were her little bit of rough; a cheap thrill. I did you a favour. Trust me.’
The next moment, Lee found himself hurtling backwards through the air as Rod aimed a vicious blow at his stomach. He gave a roar of rage and came back at him, fists flailing indiscriminately. As the brawl became more vicious, a couple of the regulars waded in to pull the brothers apart. By the end of it, Lee was in the gutter again, groaning. He was more used to fighting than Rod, but he wasn’t fuelled by blind fury, and the beer had slowed him up. He spat a tooth out into the road, prodding the bloody gap gingerly with his tongue.
‘’Kin’ ’ell,’ he lamented, looking after his brother’s retreating back. ‘Didn’t know he had it in him.’
Moments later the police arrived, and questioned Lee, who made an aggrieved statement saying he’d been set upon by someone but he had no idea who or what for. The police hadn’t believed a word but as no one else seemed able to give evidence either, they left Lee with a dark warning. Then he cadged a lift to the hospital to get himself stitched up; see if his nose was actually broken. He was going to have to lie low for a couple of days. He certainly didn’t want his mother asking questions. If he thought Rod had given him a hard time, it was nothing to what Nolly would do to him if she knew the truth.
Rod drove to his workshop, gripping the wheel to stop his hands from trembling. He wasn’t a violent person, but his discovery had unearthed a terrible rage, and he’d needed to vent it straight away. He’d never be able to make Lee understand what he’d done. There wasn’t a romantic bone in his body. He wouldn’t appreciate what he’d destroyed. Getting his face smashed in was the only language Lee understood. And Rod was horrified to realize that he’d enjoyed the splat of his knuckles against Lee’s lips. Beating him to a pulp wasn’t going to change anything, least of all the past, but it had made him feel better.
He reached the sanctuary of his workshop and took several deep breaths to calm himself down. He stared blankly at the work in progress, wondering how on earth it could stay so resolutely the same when his life was in such turmoil.
Bella had left. Bella had betrayed him. And Jamie had come back into his life, but seemed further out of reach than ever.
He made a half-hearted effort to finish a job, but he couldn’t possibly concentrate. What crazy set of rules was he supposed to be playing by? What was he supposed to do next? He thought he’d done his best to make the most of his life after Jamie had gone. He’d built up a business, got married, built a home for his wife, been – he thought – a pretty good husband and was hoping to become a father. Now the whole fucking lot had come crashing down around him, and his past had come back to have a bloody good belly laugh at it all. Where the hell had he gone wrong? By obeying the rules and being a naive fool. He might as well have just lain down and asked everyone to walk over him.
He went over to a cabinet he kept locked in the corner of the workshop. With trembling hands he undid the padlock. Inside was an exquisite, hand-carved, hand-painted Noah’s Ark, about two feet long and a foot high. There was a roof that came off to reveal the animals inside, and a ramp that slid out for them all to walk on board. With it came Noah and Mrs Noah and their sons and, at the last count, about thirty pairs of animals: all the usual, and some more unusual – gnus and warthogs and armadillos, all accurate down to the last whisker.
He’d started it just after they’d begun trying for a baby, wanting his firstborn to have an heirloom that showed his love. He realized now it had been presumptuous. The ark was a jinx. He should never have started it. He remembered all the old wives’ tales, like not bringing a pram into the house before the baby was born. If that was bad luck, then pouring your heart and soul and love and hope into something was definitely portentous.
He opened the door to his wood-burning stove and, before he could stop and think about it, thrust all the animals inside. He tossed in an old rag covered in turps, then threw on a match. Then he snapped the ark over his knee until it resembled pieces of kindling, throwing the splintered remains on to the flames that were beginning to take hold. Hours and hours of painstaking work were demolished in seconds.
OK. That was it. No more Mr Nice Guy. He wasn’t going
to sit around mooning, dreaming silly romantic dreams about a perfect future any more. He was going to behave like a normal person. Be immoral, selfish, self-centred – just like his brothers, who all seemed to live the life of Riley. He was going to go out on the piss, shag women, treat them like dirt. That way, he couldn’t get hurt…
Jamie was sitting on the gate in the top paddock at Bucklebury, gazing over the rolling fields of pasture. In the very far distance, you could just see the line of oak trees that followed the tributary of the Teme running along the border of Lydbrook House. Jamie remembered how on a summer’s day like this, she would run out with a halter and catch her pony, leap on to it bareback and canter down over the fields till she reached the river. There was one shallow spot where it was safe to cross, where the water burbled unthreateningly over the pebbles. Then she would circumnavigate the lawn and call for Emma and Kate to tack up their ponies. They could happily spend the whole day roaming the countryside, armed with a Tupperware box of hard-boiled eggs and a plastic bottle of squash.
She felt a hand on her shoulder and turned. It was Olivier, in cut-off jeans and covered in oil. He’d been tinkering with the car in the stable yard and was on his way inside for a beer when he’d spied Jamie. Something about the set of her shoulders told him something was badly wrong.
‘Are you OK?’ He looked concerned.
‘I have, as they say, fucked up big time.’ She looked bleakly over the fields, too despondent even for tears. When she finally spoke again, her tone was flat. ‘We’re going to have to sell the whole lot.’
There was a mixture of concern and jubilation later in the kitchen at Lower Faviell Farm when Rod spilled the beans about Bella’s betrayal to a select audience of Deacons. He had to tell his mother. She’d been his pillar of strength over the past few months, and besides, he’d always told Nolly everything. Except… well, there was one thing he’d kept to himself all these years. And he told Tanya. He told Tanya because he wanted reassurance that he was to be pitied. And he knew he could rely on his outspoken sister to say all the things he was thinking in his head.
Wild Oats Page 21
