‘So, Kit tells me you’re an old mate of Bonnie’s?’ Simon says now, and I hesitate before replying – impossible not to when you’re trying your best not to trip over the lie.
‘My parents knew her,’ I reply. ‘A long time ago.’
‘In England, right?’
‘Right.’
Tui bounds back with a beer for me, half of which she must have spilled on her clumsy canter across from the table. I take it gratefully from her and swallow such a huge mouthful that most of it spills down my chin. Glancing unthinkingly over at Kit, I grin as I see him sneaking a burnt-looking sausage into Beavis’s eager mouth.
‘You know,’ Simon adds, as Tui hurtles off yet again, ‘I was shocked when Bon told me she was going back there – to England. She never had many nice things to say about it when we were together.’
‘How long did she live there?’ I ask idly, my skin prickling.
‘Quite a while – at least a year, I’d say,’ Simon replies. ‘She went from there to Australia for a month or two, and that was it. She told me that she had set out thinking she’d explore the whole world, but that England had put her off. Made her realise that she had everything she wanted or needed right here at home.’
‘England isn’t all that bad,’ I protest, ignoring the tightening fist of resentment in my stomach. The implication is clear: Bonnie hates the UK because of what happened to her while she was there – namely me. But that’s not the only reason I’m rankled – like most Brits, I am very happy to moan about my home country, but I’m not all that keen on anyone else doing so. It’s basically an English law, like drinking tea in a crisis and apologising to people that walk into you.
‘I’m sure it’s very nice,’ Simon allows, about as convincingly as an art critic would be if faced with a stickman. ‘But whatever happened to Bon over there, it changed her. She admitted as much to me herself.’
‘What did happen?’ I ask, playing dumb, but Simon is shaking his head.
‘She’s never said. Whenever I brought it up, she’d go all quiet on me, you know? Shutters would come down over her eyes.’
He frowns as he recalls it; I sip more of my beer.
‘I see,’ I say eventually. ‘So, that’s why you have no idea why she would go to England now, because she hates it so much?’
Simon shrugs expansively.
‘Not a dicky of a clue,’ he says with a sigh. ‘But I hope she’s gone there to make her peace with it all, you know? Something’s been haunting that woman, and I think whatever it is has held her back. She’s never really let herself be happy, or let anyone in very far. Me and my wife –’ he points towards an elegant blonde over by the food table – ‘tell each other everything, but I worry that Bon has never had that. She just resists it, and I don’t even think she knows why.’
Simon looks pensive now, lost in his own memories – presumably of the relationship that he and Bonnie once shared, which did not end up working out for whatever reason. Of course, I know something that he does not about what happened to Bonnie in England – I happened. Could the mere fact of my existence be the reason she shut Simon out – even after they had their own child together? Or did something else happen all those years ago to cause my birth mother to close herself off from everyone? Something worse and even more life-changing than giving up a child?
And if so, what?
26
Bonnie
After she left London in 1992, Bonnie had tried her best not to think about Seth Cooper. Even if she had wanted to contact him, she wouldn’t have known how. Nobody had a mobile phone in those days, and the only number she’d ever had for him, which was the landline in the shared flat he rented in Shadwell, was out of service the one time she had tried it.
As the years progressed and everyone moved their lives online, Bonnie had begun a search for him, but it had been half-hearted at best. The fact of it was, she didn’t really want to locate him. She just needed confirmation that she had not dreamt the whole thing.
But it was Seth she was thinking about now, as she sat in the hard-backed chair in the corner of the library, her notebook and pen on the table in front of her. She had told Tracey that she would write in a café for once, but it was Christmas Eve, and every coffee shop in the local area was teeming with stressed-out parents, excitable children and groups of insolent teens. Seeking solitude, Bonnie had wandered the streets of Boughton-under-Blean until she discovered this place.
It was morning now, not yet ten, but the woman behind the desk had warned her that they would be closing at midday. Bonnie had two hours in which to tell the next chunk of her story, which should have been plenty, but she found herself delaying. She had reached the part where everything had begun to spiral out of control, and reliving it now, trying to recall all the emotions she had felt, was making the pitter-patter of anxiety tap-dance its way through her chest. Picking up her pen, she wrote, ‘Isn’t it extraordinary how much power love can have over you?’ And then scribbled it out.
Because it wasn’t love that was to blame for what happened; it was someone else’s abuse of it.
Seth and I had been dating, I guess you’d call it, for about a month when he invited me to spend a weekend with him in Brighton. It was quite a big deal, because the two of us had yet to actually sleep in the same bed together, and I had yet to sleep in a bed alongside any boy. There was just no way my folks would ever have let me do such a thing, and I guess I wanted to wait to respect their wishes – at least that’s the excuse I used. I didn’t want Seth to think that I was frigid and lose interest, but I was also reluctant to do the deed with him in case he then worked out how inexperienced I really was.
Doesn’t that sound absolutely bloody dreadful? I know it does – but at the time, that warped logic made sense to me. And anyway, Seth didn’t put all that much pressure on me – he told me that he was happy to wait. But I knew once we were in Brighton, then he would expect something more than a smooch, and I admit, the idea was scary. No, it was terrifying. But in the way that so many frightening things are, it also exhilarated me. I knew the day it was finally going to happen, and I could prepare myself.
In the end, howerer, I never did go to Brighton.
Tracey had a fall, bless the clumsy old thing, and so I had to take over running the café while she recovered. It all happened the night before Seth and I were supposed to go off on our romantic weekend for two, and when I met him at Euston Station and told him I wouldn’t be able to come, he was furious. It was the first argument the two of us had ever had, and he was swearing and all sorts, telling me that it was only a stupid job in a café and that I should walk out. Well, that pissed me off, because I had been raised better than that. I knew that I had a duty and that I owed Tracey my loyalty. I would never have dreamt of letting her down when she needed me – not even for Seth – and looking back now, I think it was that which annoyed him the most. In his eyes, I had put the needs of my boss above the needs of my boyfriend, and before he stormed off and left me crying in that station, he told me that I was immature, and disloyal and – worst of all – a tease. I was devastated.
Off he went to Brighton, while I stayed behind and worked, but I could barely concentrate all weekend for thinking about him, and whether he would ever forgive me. But then, when Monday rolled around, the weirdest thing happened – Seth turned up at Sunrise Café just after lunch, fresh off the train and looking damn awful, with dark circles under his eyes and his hair sticking out all over the place. He told me that he’d been feeling like a bastard the whole time he’d been away, and that he was sorry for everything he said to me. Of course, I was over the bloody moon – probably the moons of Saturn. And so relieved not to have lost him that I would have agreed to anything.
And I did.
That night turned out to be ‘the’ night – and afterwards he told me that he loved me, and I said that I loved him, too. And I believed it, I really did. I remember heading to work the next morning and feeling as if the clouds billowe
d more joyfully. All the dirty pigeons suddenly looked like birds of paradise. I reckon I was skipping, perhaps even singing – the boy I loved, he loved me back, and I was a proper woman at last. I was going to get what I wanted after all and Seth and me would live happily ever after.
That feeling lasted a good fortnight, too. The more time Seth and I spent together, the harder I was falling. I was addicted. I needed my daily fix of him or I would start to twitch. And nothing seemed to faze me then, not Tracey’s injury, not how busy it was at work and how out of my depth I was, not my homesickness – nothing. I felt as if I owned the bloody world.
The only thing that did dent my love euphoria was my mate the professor. He came in one afternoon looking totally ghastly and told me that his wife had moved out. The rows had become too much, he said, and he didn’t know if she would ever come back. There I was, this naive girl, trying her best to comfort this man with all the wisdom of one who has had sex about twelve times in her whole life. How little I knew then about life, and relationships, and marriage. I mean, Jesus, I didn’t know a goddamn thing – but because I was floating around in such a love bubble myself, all I wanted was for everyone else to be the same.
I encouraged the professor to make a grand gesture, to tell his wife that he loved her above all else – because in my mind, it was that simple. Love was mightier than petty arguments – it was an all-conquering force that could heal any rift.
I don’t know whether the professor even listened to me, but he did seem to cheer up when the two of us talked. I even told him about the Brighton row – I probably compared it to his own troubles, which of course only goes to show how young and dumb I was. But that was the thing about the professor – he never made me feel foolish. He treated me like an equal, and I admired him for that. I was so accustomed to being treated like a child by my parents and their friends that it felt nice to be welcomed into the ‘proper adult’ pool, even if I was flailing about in the bloody deep end.
It was during one of our deep and meaningful chats that the professor offered me a room at his house. He and his wife had always taken in student lodgers, but the latest had quit university in the middle of her course, so the room was going spare. It wasn’t much more in rent than I was paying at the hostel, and when he told me that Seth would be allowed to stay over, I practically jumped up and down with excitement. It wasn’t as if I had much stuff to pack, so moving in was easy. By the following weekend, I was living there, and the friendship between me and the professor became even stronger. He was a mate, a good guy. I thought he was one of the best people that I was ever likely to meet.
So, to summarise: I was happy. I had a new home with a landlord who was also a great mate of mine, I was dating a boy I loved, who loved me, and I was enjoying being in charge of the café for a while. Everything was on the up.
Until, one night, when everything came crashing down.
27
‘I don’t think I have ever been so full in my entire life.’
Kit grins as he stretches out on the straw bale next to mine, his feet crossed at the ankles and his head resting against the wooden rails of the fence. Both of us are sipping at bottles of beer, only this time there is no added tequila.
‘Nah,’ he replies. ‘Today’s tucker was nothing. You should have seen the spreads my old man used to put on.’
I rub my swollen belly.
‘He clearly taught you well.’
‘Thanks again for my gift, by the way,’ he says. ‘Really sweet of you.’
I had no idea what to buy him, but getting him and Allie a little something gave me the perfect excuse to get a present for Tui. In the end, I opted for one of those silly, nodding-head dogs to sit on the dashboard of the minibus – only this one isn’t a dog, but a Gollum. Kit had creased up as soon as he opened it, before proceeding to reel off a repertoire of surprisingly good Gollum impressions, and telling me that from now on, he would only be referring to me as ‘my precious’. Allie, who had thanked me politely for her basket of toiletries, did not look very enthused by the latter prospect.
The temptation to spoil Tui had been extremely strong, but in the end, I settled on a gorgeous stuffed-dog toy that looked as if it could have been modelled on Beavis, a T-shirt with a Keith lookalike pony printed on the front and – best of all – a slinky.
‘I thought it would help with your riding,’ I mumbled, as Tui flung her arms around my neck, and Kit smiled at me with such warmth that I felt compelled to scurry away from him on the pretext of getting a second helping of potato salad.
‘I feel bad,’ he says now. ‘For not getting you anything. I’m not very good with gifts for girls – just ask Allie.’
‘Oh God, don’t be sorry,’ I assure him. ‘I don’t need anything – all that food was gift enough.’
‘How about a free ride?’ he asks, suddenly looking animated. ‘There’s a trek booked in for the day after Boxing Day with only a few people on it – you could ride out with them if you like?’
‘No, thanks.’
‘Oh, go on – silly not to take advantage of all these horses,’ he says, gesturing towards the paddocks. ‘And we both know that you can ride. I know what horsey folk are like – they’re obsessed. You must be itching to get in the saddle by now.’
‘I’m not,’ I reply, detecting the note of panic in my voice. Kit doesn’t seem to notice. Or if he does, it doesn’t deter him.
‘Bon always says that the longer you wait after a fall, the harder it is to get back on. If you’re worried about that, I can come with you. I’ll even lead you, if you like.’
‘I’m not scared,’ I tell him truthfully, my tone now almost pleading. I don’t want to have to lie to him, but I can’t explain my reasons for not riding any more without telling him about the accident. And perhaps I could do that one day, but not on this day – not on the anniversary.
‘Well, then,’ he says. ‘That settles it. I’ll just tell Allie to—ALLIE!’
‘No, don’t!’ I implore, but Allie is already on her way over.
When Kit explains his plan, she turns to me, head cocked in enquiry, and I shake my own, trying to convey through expression alone how much I need her not to push me. Miraculously, it works, because a moment later she says to Kit, ‘You heard the poor girl – she said no and she means no. Stop being a bully.’
‘Hey, I’m not bullying anyone!’
‘Listen,’ I say, my hands raised in an attempt to defuse, ‘it’s OK. Honestly, Kit, it’s really generous of you to offer, but I haven’t got any of the right clothes or anything with me and—’
‘You can borrow some of Allie’s.’
This man is not one to be easily deterred.
‘No.’ This time I make sure that I’m being firm. ‘But thank you.’
Allie folds her arms and looks at each of us in turn. She really does look nice today in her dress, and she’s curled her hair, too. All I did was scrape my ridiculously long locks into a bun and apply a token amount of make-up. I have caught so much of the sun now that I don’t need any foundation, and there’s little point bothering with perfume when you are going to be surrounded by horses and all their associated aromas.
‘Just think of your fear as a plaster,’ Kit says now, and I could swear that Allie rolls her eyes. ‘The faster you rip it off, the less it hurts – getting back on a horse is the same thing.’
‘It’s really not, you dickhead,’ Allie chides. Then, addressing me, ‘Kit has only been on a horse once in his life, so he’s talking out of his backside.’
‘I’m just saying,’ he protests noisily, ‘that you can’t go through life being cautious all the time. If you fell over as a kid and never dared walk again, then where would you be?’
‘I didn’t fall off,’ I can’t help but argue. ‘That’s not the reason I don’t ride any more.’
‘Then what is?’ he asks, and this time Allie doesn’t come to my rescue. She is just as intrigued to hear the answer, I realise; I can see the curiosity i
n her eyes just as my own fill with treacherous tears.
Almost immediately, Kit senses that he has pushed me too far and, getting to his feet with an apologetic murmur, announces that he’s off to check on Tui, although it’s obvious he is going purely to give me some space.
‘Sorry about him.’ Allie sits down on the vacated bale of straw. ‘He can be like a seal with a crayfish, that one – bloody relentless.’
‘You look really nice today,’ I tell her, my keenness to change the subject making me more direct than I usually would be. Allie looks self-conscious for a beat or two, before giving in to a smile.
‘I thought I should make a bit of an effort,’ she confides. ‘Given that it’s the last time I’ll get to party with a lot of these guys for a while.’
‘Oh?’ I swallow nervously.
‘Yeah,’ she says, picking out a piece of straw and twisting it around her finger. ‘Didn’t Kit tell you? We’re off to Wellington in the New Year. Well, I am, anyway. Kit is gonna wait for Bonnie to get back, but then he’ll come and join me.’
‘That’s great,’ I say, then start coughing as my sip of beer goes down the wrong way. Allie pats me hard on the back, but this only seems to make it worse.
‘Shit!’ I gasp, struggling to breathe as my eyes fill with water. ‘Sorry. Shit!’
‘Drinking really is bad for your health,’ she remarks, but her face is all concern.
It takes me a few minutes to fully recover, during which time Allie has fetched me a soft drink and some napkins, which I use to mop my wet cheeks.
‘Won’t you miss all this?’ I ask her, when I’m able to speak again. ‘The horses, the people?’
As she goes to answer, I realise it is exactly what Hayley asked me, not long before I came out here. She knew what I would say in response, just as I know what Allie will say now.
‘Of course,’ she agrees. ‘But they’ll all still be here. It’s not as if Wellington is on the other side of the world.’
One Winter Morning Page 15
