Independent Jenny

by Sarah Louise Smith

  Yet, I was envious of her, up there, in that beautiful place, with the man she loved.

  Someone knocked on the studio door and I looked at the clock. My next clients weren’t due to arrive for another hour and I wasn’t expecting anyone.

  “Oh, Ross,” I said, as I opened the door to see my almost ex-husband standing in the rain.

  “Come in,” I opened the door wider and he stepped inside, looking nervous. And, annoyingly, good looking. He always looked good with wet hair.

  “How are you?” I asked as he took his soaking coat off.

  “I’m fine. How’re you?”

  “I’m good. I’m looking at a flat tomorrow so I should be able to come and sort out the furniture and stuff then.”

  “That’s fine. I’m not interrupting you?”

  “No, no clients for another hour. Aren’t you at work today?”

  “Took a few days off.”

  “Tea?”

  “Sure, thanks.”

  I went and put the kettle on, wondering why he was here. It was weird hearing he had a few days off. I wasn’t in his life anymore and not hearing what was going on and why seemed strange.

  “How’s Aiden?” I asked as he appeared in the doorway.

  “He’s alright. I haven’t seen him much.”

  “You should. He didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  “I know. We’ll figure it out.”

  “I’m sorry I hurt him.”

  “He’s a big boy. And he knew you were going through some stuff.”

  I looked up at him while stirring our drinks.

  “Yeah, well…”

  “I miss you, Jenny.”

  “I miss you too.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, just as in, I miss the life we had two years ago. But you know we weren’t happy recently Ross. Not really.”

  “It’s not too late you know, to date each other again, see how it goes. We could get back to how it was. We could try, at least?”

  I looked at his hopeful eyes. Oh, how easy that would be.

  “Ross, we can be friends but that’s all I can give you right now.”

  “Okay, okay.”

  He took his tea and wandered into my studio.

  “Been busy?” he asked.

  “Yep.”

  He glanced over to my desk and then at the photo above my laptop.

  “This is the guy you shagged on holiday?” I almost saw him become green. I imagined him turning into Shrek and suppressed a giggle.

  “I didn’t shag him,” I said honestly. “He’s just a friend.”

  “A friend you have a photo of right where you work?”

  “He’s married,” I said. Darn it, why did I have to keep being reminded of that? Most days I liked to daydream that he’d come to Bath, perhaps on a white horse, with Fern running by his side, and serenade me with a song, just like something romantic from a musical. He’d declare his love, and I’d hop on the horse and we’d ride off into the sunset: one that looked just like the sunsets on Skye.

  Or … he’d write me a letter, just like Captain Wentworth in Persuasion. We’d have our very own modern Jane Austen ending.

  “Married? Huh.” Ross bought me back to reality.

  He smiled at me sympathetically and I looked away. I hated that he knew me so well.

  “I’m happy to help you move the stuff. I’d like to keep some of it, though of course. I still need to live.”

  “Thank you. Of course, I don’t want it all. I won’t have room for it all.”

  He started chatting about his parents and work and it felt easier, somehow. Maybe we could be friends after all. He left just as my next client arrived, a local business owner who wanted me to come and take some staff shots. I wrote down her brief and she gestured to my photo of Will and me.

  “That’s the Isle of Skye, isn’t it?” she asked.

  “Yes indeed it is, near Kilt Rock.”

  “Love it there. My husband and I went on honeymoon to Skye. Beautiful place.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “That your fella?”

  “No, just a friend.”

  “Shame, you look good together,” she said, smiling. We were good together, I wanted to tell her. So, so good.

  As I looked up at the photo again, I saw a new email had come up on my screen. I rushed the end of the meeting and hurried over to read it.

  Hi Independent Jenny,

  So happy for you, you sound really excited. I hope the flat viewing goes well and it all works out for you. I’m really sorry but we can’t keep in touch anymore. Please don’t email me again.

  Sorry,

  Will.

  What? How could that be? Why couldn’t we be friends?

  I started to type a hurried reply, but suddenly I wanted to hear his voice so I rang him. It rang a few times then went through to voicemail.

  “Hi, this is Will, leave a message and I’ll call you back. If you need an emergency veterinarian, call the surgery on—”

  I hung up.

  Oh how I’d missed his voice. That slight flicker of a Scottish accent. I pictured him speaking, his dark hair falling over his face and I was absolutely, one hundred percent sure that I loved him. And I couldn’t have him. The pain was too much and I sat down to stare at the photograph again.

  Eventually, I rang and left a garbled message about being confused and could he please just offer me an explanation, but I didn’t expect a call back and I didn’t get one.

  I was never going to see him again, and I felt miserable.

  And alone. So, so alone.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  When Ross proposed to me, it was one of the happiest moments of my life. It was a really cold November evening and we’d been out with his parents for a meal. We got back late and I was so tired. I complained most of the way home that my feet ached after working at a wedding fayre promoting my work most of the day, and I kept yawning.

  I opened the front door and Ross scooped me up.

  “What’re you doing?” I giggled.

  “You’re a tired damsel in distress, and I’m carrying you to bed,” Ross told me. He kicked the front door closed with his foot and carried me to our bedroom. We lived in a two bedroom flat back then, in the centre of town. We could only just afford it but it was a special place for us; our first home together.

  We were so in love back then. Ross used to take me out for dinner every payday. I’d wash his hair when we shared a shower, and iron his shirts before he left for work each morning. It was the little things, now that I thought about it. The little things we did that made the difference, which made us feel secure and loved.

  Ross put me down gently on the bed and took my shoes off for me. Then he started to unbutton my trousers.

  “I’m too tired Ross,” I said, not feeling sexy in the slightest.

  “I know. I’m just helping you get ready for bed.”

  I smiled at him and he smiled back down at me, and I let him take all my clothes off and slip my nightdress over my head. Then he pulled back the duvet and I slid in.

  “Good night, my lovely Jenny,” he said, kissing me on the forehead. I closed my eyes and heard him leave the room and turn the shower on.

  I opened my eyes again, suddenly alert and feeling sexy, after all. Something about him undressing me had awoken my libido.

  So, I got up, pulled my nightdress off, and snuck into the bathroom. I pulled the shower curtain back and he gave me his handsome smile, so I stepped inside and he pushed me up against the tiles. They were cold, but I didn’t mind. He grabbed my hips and pulled me up. I wrapped my legs around him and let him push into me, the water cascading around us.

  It was one of the best times, ever. He kissed me gently all over, and by the time it was over, I really was exhausted. He carried me back to the bedroom and rubbed a warm fluffy towel all over me, and then I slipped back under the duvet and he joined me from the other side. I closed my eyes.

  “Will you marry me?” he s
aid in the darkness.

  I opened my eyes, again.

  “Ross! Are you serious?”

  We lay facing each other and I could just about see his face from a strip of moonlight creeping in between the curtains.

  “Of course. I’ve been looking at rings for months. I was going to ask you at Christmas, but I just thought … tonight … well, I felt compelled. I love you. I want to be with you, always.”

  “Oh wow, Ross. Of course I will.”

  He put his hand on the back of my head and we both let out an excited giggle and shared a long, happy kiss. I fell asleep with my head on his chest and woke up the next morning full of love, hope and joy.

  We got married about eighteen months later on a warm spring day, in a hotel on the outskirts of Bath, set in beautiful green surroundings. The tulips and daffodils were in full bloom, there wasn’t a cloud in the sky, and everything went off without a hitch. My parents were both there – although they didn’t speak to each other – and so were all my siblings. It felt weird to have my whole family in one place.

  Aiden was the best man, and he gave an amusing speech. We had vanilla candles on the tables, and sugared almonds, and I wore an A-line ivory strapless dress and heels that made my feet hurt. Ross looked dashing in his morning suit and we ate lamb, and we laughed with our friends, and we drank champagne, and we danced. When we finally fell into bed, I was exhausted but had never been happier.

  Our honeymoon was the best two weeks of my life at that point. Ross planned it all in secret, and whisked me away to the Caribbean. We were so close, during those two weeks, so in love, giddy with it every day, touching each other all the time. I remember looking at him, sitting on the white sand, reading a book, and thinking I was so, so lucky to have him. He was good looking, but more importantly, he was funny and kind. And he adored me, treated me like a princess.

  Why hadn’t anyone told us then that you have to work at marriage? You can’t just coast along, taking each other for granted. I realised that now, and with sadness, thinking about the best times we’d had together, I wished I could go back and give that couple who were madly in love a good talking to. I’d tell them to make sure they stayed that way; touching each other, talking about everything, always putting each other first.

  I’d not put Ross first for a long time. I put Shane before him plenty. I even put Wentworth before him. When had I stopped greeting Ross when I got in, and made more fuss about my dog instead?

  I thought about all this and regretted moving in with Aiden. And going to Skye. What good had that done me? Nothing. It’d only served for me to watch Hayley ditch her life back home and me to realise what a great guy Will was … far too late.

  And now I was alone.

  And the thought still terrified me.

  But I was going to do it. I was going to be Independent Jenny, and stop being so silly and immature and stand on my own two feet. Starting with getting a place to live.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  “It’s really lovely,” I told Anna, one of my brides-to-be as she showed me around her ground floor flat. It had a spacious living room with a fireplace and a large window letting lots of light in. In the small kitchen, which had been recently re-fitted, the oven looked liked it’d never been used. There was one bedroom, which was enough space for my queen size bed for me and my furry friend, which led to a shiny bathroom with a power shower. The walls throughout were standard magnolia, and out back there was a small garden for Wentworth to run around in, with a patio and a bit of grass, plus a short but pretty weeping birch tree in the far corner. I could definitely see myself living here.

  “Thanks. When I moved in with Clive, we did it up a bit. I’d love to rent it to someone I know and trust.”

  We had only met twice before; once at a wedding exhibition I’d taken part in at a local hotel, and again at my studio when she came to look at my portfolio and book her wedding in, but I guess that was better than a complete stranger.

  “And you won’t mind my dog coming with me?”

  “No, not at all, he’s so sweet and lovely.”

  She hadn’t seen him eating fox poo or splashing in muddy puddles, but I thought it was better not to mention that. I looked out at the garden again and pictured him ruining her grass as he run about, then back at the laminated flooring and pictured his fur floating all over it. Daily hoovering is required with golden retrievers. It was a good job for him that he was so good looking, when I came to think of it. And sweet tempered.

  The flat really was very nice and on a quiet side road, not a very long walk from Shane’s place or my studio, and most importantly it was cheap.

  “What’s the parking like outside?” I asked.

  “Never had any problems.”

  “And the neighbours?”

  “Don’t see them much, but they’re friendly enough.”

  I nodded and wandered back towards the bedroom.

  “So you like it?” she asked as I peered into the bathroom for a second time. Everything was immaculately clean, and it would be mine; my own place for the new, single, independent Jenny I was about to get to know and respect.

  “It’s just what I’m looking for,” I said, a big smile on my face. “When can I move in?”

  Her face lit up.

  “As soon as you like.”

  “How about this weekend?”

  We talked through the necessary arrangements and once everything was settled, I left her to call Clive and tell him the good news.

  I didn’t feel like going back to Shane’s just yet so I walked idly for a while. Anna and Clive had seemed so happy when they came to see me a few weeks earlier. They told me how they’d fallen in love while at university as they flicked through my portfolio, and they reminded me of Ross and I back in our heyday. I shook my head to dispel the thought; there was no point reliving the good times. Maybe one day I’d be able to think about those moments and reminisce, but right now it was too painful a reminder of how badly it’d gone wrong. I needed a clean break and to clear my head of Ross. Which made me decide to go round there and talk to him about the stuff I wanted from the house. I turned on my heel and walked towards my old home.

  As I got to my old familiar front door, I hesitated. Was I really ready for all of this? A small part of me wanted to hold on to this limbo period, staying at Shane’s, not really moving on. The other part knew I’d be outstaying my welcome very soon, if I hadn’t already, and I had to take this step. I looked at the black paint peeling in one corner of the front door and wondered if Ross would notice or bother to re-paint it without me there to tell him about all the jobs that needed doing. Probably not. But did that stuff really matter? It had mattered to me while we were together, but somehow, now apart, I realised that those little things meant nothing, when it came down to it. I rang the doorbell.

  I could hear his footsteps in the hallway and I felt the butterflies rush to my chest. No matter how nice he was to me, I couldn’t allow myself to feel attracted to him anymore, not if I wanted to move on and start my new life without him. But then he was there in front of me again, the man who I’d fallen in love with once, had placed all my hopes and future dreams in. Yet he was also the man who’d let me down. His feet were bare; his socks no doubt left lying around somewhere. Somehow, the thought seemed endearing now that I wasn’t the one to have to pick them up.

  He looked surprised to see me.

  “You could’ve used your key,” he said instead of greeting me.

  “No, I don’t live here anymore, Ross,” I said gently.

  “Come in,” he said a little coldly, walking away and leaving the door open.

  The house looked exactly as it had before. Even the post was in a neat little pile on the table in the hallway. The framed photos of my parents were still hanging up, albeit with a thin layer of dust on them. And Ross was taking my favourite mug out of the kitchen cupboard and putting it on the counter ready to make me a drink. How familiar it all was, yet so strange to be back. It
felt like a lifetime since I’d been here, since we’d gone about our routine and I’d been blissfully ignorant of what he was up to.

  I hovered in the kitchen doorway and watched as he flicked the kettle on. Was I really never going to cook in here again? Never going to stand in that exact spot and hear him come through the front door? No more barbecues in the garden outside that kitchen window; no more seducing each other over several glasses of wine; no more Wentworth sitting between us on the sofa while we got addicted to a TV series … No more Ross. For better or worse, I’d promised to love him. And, despite his betrayal, it felt like I was the one breaking that promise. I was the one saying it was over. How had I become the guilty party? I gulped, hoping I could make it through this conversation.

  “Tea or coffee?” he asked, turning his handsome face around to look at me. His eyes looked tired, and I wondered whether he’d not been sleeping well.

  “Tea please,” I watched him making the drinks, wondering how we’d gone from a couple in love to an awkward silence in what seemed like a relatively short amount of time. I went and sat at the kitchen table and he joined me with our two hot mugs.

  “So, it’s nice to see you. How are you?” he asked, followed by a genuine smile.

  “I’m good. You?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “How’s Aiden?” I asked, thinking we might as well get the elephant in the room out in the open.

  “He’s alright. Sad, but okay.”

  “I’m glad you’re friends again.”

  “I can’t blame him for trying, you’re a good catch.”

  I smiled and sipped my tea.

  “So are you staying with Shane again?”

  “Yes, but just now I’ve been to see a flat, actually.”

  Why did I feel so nervous? This conversation had a strange sense of finality about it. Despite the fact that I’d gone to Skye and had the kiss of my life with another man. Despite the fact that I’d slept with his brother, it was only now that I really felt things were officially coming to an end with Ross.