She was rummaging in her purse for change when she heard Jack’s voice and forced herself to remain still and with her head down. She slowly turned to watch him leaving the break area with a young man. They stopped to chat outside the gents’ toilets and when the young man went into the toilets Jack walked away towards the stairs.
Beth pulled a receipt from her purse and prepared herself. As the young man came out she pounced.
‘Hi, sorry. The man you were with dropped something.’ She waved the receipt in front of him vaguely and he was momentarily distracted like a cat with a feather. ‘Which class is he in?’ She was desperately keen to know what Jack was doing here. It was none of her business but simple curiosity was getting the better of her.
The man reached out his hand. ‘I’ll give it to him if you like?’
That was the obvious thing to offer, she really hadn’t thought this through.
‘Oh, okay,’ she handed over the receipt. ‘Is it good? The class or meeting you’re going to, because I wondered if I might switch.’
He was frowning deeply now as he shoved the receipt into his pocket. ‘Sorry, it’s not a course. Look, I’d better go or I’ll be late.’
‘Oh, of course, yes. Enjoy yourself,’ said Beth, feeling like a total idiot. Was he shaking his head as he went up the stairs? She wouldn’t have blamed him. She sloped back into the break area, got herself a tea from the machine and went to read the noticeboard. There was a brochure of all the courses and she sprang on it, took it to a nearby table and started to look through it. Each course also had details of the room and floor it was on. The men from her course got up and left. She checked her watch: time to go back. A woman was wiping down the tables and Beth sidled back in.
‘Excuse me. Do you know which groups are meeting on the first floor tonight?’ It was a long shot.
‘Er, Tuesday, is it?’ said the woman and Beth nodded. ‘Knit and natter – actually no, that’s moved to a Thursday. Adult dyslexia support and domestic violence support,’ she said and then carried on wiping.
Beth knew she was frowning. Either Jack was dyslexic or there was something very sinister going on that he was attending a domestic violence support group. Beth wandered back to her class and sat at her bench and tried hard to listen to Tollek but her mind was distracted by what she’d just discovered and the uneasy feeling that was breeding in her gut.
After a lengthy discussion about tools and sharpening and a quick refresh of the health and safety they all moved over to the machine side of the room. Tollek ran them through the basic principles of the lathe, put on a safety mask and did a demonstration. Beth forgot about Jack for a while, watching Tollek intently as he rounded off a piece of wood. The machine had a low purr as Tollek expertly ran the chisel across its surface. Wood shavings curled away from the wood and filled the air with a fresh scent. She watched him cut in to make a specific groove and demonstrate the importance of keeping tools sharp. She was fascinated.
When the students had a go themselves Beth had to stop herself from running to a lathe in her excitement. Tollek came to each of them in turn and checked that their piece of wood was secure and got them started. Beth knew she was grinning as she rested her chisel on the tool rest and felt it make contact with the wood and change the tone of the machine’s purr.
‘Stay firm and smooth with your actions,’ said Tollek. ‘Good start, Beth.’
As she worked the wood her mind drifted back to Jack. Her curiosity was piqued and she wanted to find out more. He was either attending the dyslexic group or the domestic violence support group; she really hoped it was the former even though she hadn’t spotted any signs that had led her to think he might be dyslexic. But just because she hadn’t noticed anything that didn’t mean he wasn’t. Yes, it had to be that. Her foot slipped off the motor pedal and the lathe ground to a halt. She’d lost concentration.
Tollek was soon at her side and got her started again and this time she stared hard at the wood to maintain focus. A few seconds later her mind had wandered off again. If it was the domestic violence group why was he there? Was he scouting for his next victim? She felt a shudder go through her and immediately banished the thought. Surely nobody would be that twisted and surely not Jack, although she knew too well that just because someone was pretty did not mean they were good. Perhaps the support group was for reformed abusers? she thought. But if it was, that was an odd thing to need support for, wasn’t it?
Tollek suggested that they stop working and inspect their handiwork. She was so pleased she almost gave herself a clap. Despite her wandering thoughts she had actually made something that looked pretty good.
When it was time to leave she had visions of replacing every spindle and setting up her own wood-turning business. Everyone was buoyed by the experience and now they were all chatting, the gender barriers had been removed – they were one happy band of novice wood-turners.
As Beth waved her goodbyes she headed for the motorbike parking area and there she spotted Jack. He was on the phone and looking over the pink moped. What was he up to now?
Chapter Twenty-Five
Beth gripped the helmet tightly, pulled back her shoulders and strode over to Jack.
‘Problem?’ she asked.
‘Ah, ignore this message, Petra, Beth has turned up and I think that solves the puzzle. Bye.’ He ended the call and looked apologetically at Beth. ‘Sorry, I recognized the moped and thought someone had stolen it, because I knew Petra was working. But I’m guessing you’ve borrowed it.’
‘Well, I haven’t stolen it if that’s what you’re thinking!’
Jack’s expression was pained. ‘I didn’t think you had.’ He slapped a smile on his face. ‘So are you doing an evening class?’
‘Yes, wood-turning.’ She watched him closely for a reaction.
‘Wow, that’s a real skill.’
‘How about you?’
He looked at the ground. ‘Just a meeting, nothing as much fun as wood-turning. Anyway I’d better get back.’
Beth took a deep breath as he was about to walk away. ‘So are you dyslexic?’
There was a pause as Jack slowly spun back to look at her, his face crumpled in thought. ‘Er, no, why?’
‘In that case it means you must have been at the domestic violence support group.’ Beth stepped forward; she wasn’t sure why but she felt like she was going head to head with him. His facial expression changed rapidly in a few short moments.
‘Bloody hell, Sherlock, you’re good.’ He tried to laugh it off.
She felt her pulse quicken. Her worst fear realized. She tried to read his face for some clues as to how he felt about being rumbled.
‘You don’t deny it?’ she asked. He shrugged and shoved his hands into his trouser pockets. ‘So how does that work then?’ She was interested to see how he was going to explain himself.
‘We just meet up and talk. That’s it really.’
Beth knew she was scowling. He was fidgety but otherwise quite calm. ‘So is it you and lots of people that have been abused?’ She felt nausea swirl in her stomach.
Jack was looking increasingly uncomfortable. ‘Look, we shouldn’t really discuss this out here,’ he said, looking furtively around.
‘Where do you suggest then?’ she asked as she stopped herself from suggesting the local police station.
‘Machine coffee?’ he said as he nodded towards the main building. Beth checked her watch. She could spare five minutes, this was important.
They went inside to the deserted refectory and Beth sat at a table while Jack got the drinks. Her brain was humming along with the coffee machine. She glanced across to see the fire alarm was nearby and gained a strange comfort from it. If he lashed out, as he might now he was cornered, she could summon help quite quickly.
Jack gave a brief smile as he brought the drinks and sat down. ‘So what do you want to know?’
Beth licked her lips self-consciously. This was like facing Nick, although it wasn’t him, obvio
usly, but all the questions she wanted to fire at Nick were marauding through her brain as well as the unwelcome associated emotions.
‘Why? Why are you here doing this?’
Jack puffed out his cheeks and blew out air calmly. ‘Because sometimes it’s difficult to move on.’ His sad expression was at odd with his words.
‘Do you regret it?’
Jack narrowed his eyes as they darted about. ‘How do you mean?’
Beth was frowning; something wasn’t adding up. ‘I don’t understand. You get these abuse victims together and then what?’ Beth’s voice was going wobbly and as she lifted her drink to her lips she realized her hand was shaking.
Jack pulled a leaflet from his back pocket and handed it to Beth. ‘Perhaps this can explain better than I can. I set the group up a while back. We’re a bit of a minority.’ He pointed to the title on the leaflet as he spoke. It said: Support Group for Male Victims of Domestic Violence.
Beth kept her eyes downward, the heat rising in her cheeks as her brain tried to unscramble all the assumptions she’d made. She started to grind her teeth and then stopped herself; it was the first time she’d returned to that habit in a while. ‘I think I owe you an apology for these last few weeks. I’m sorry.’ She looked up and met his gaze. She felt truly awful. She had jumped to a very wrong conclusion about Jack. She was an idiot.
Jack was smiling. Then it slipped and vanished. ‘You knew before tonight?’
‘No, not exactly. I mean, I had heard about you being involved in an abusive relationship but when you hear that a man is involved in domestic violence …’ Beth ran out of words and her eyes dropped to the leaflet she was still clutching.
So Jack finished her sentence. ‘You assumed that I was the abuser?’
Beth shook her head but she couldn’t lie as that was exactly what she had thought. It was what she had taken Petra to mean when she warned her off. ‘I made the wrong assumption about you. I’m really sorry.’ Why wasn’t there a stronger word than ‘sorry’ for moments like this? she thought as her stomach churned.
‘You thought I was capable of domestic violence?’ His jaw was tight and his hand movements jerky.
‘I didn’t think it through …’ She actually felt sick.
‘But you were happy to accept that I was the person beating the crap out of someone else. Well, thank you, Beth. It’s good to know what you really think of me.’ Before she could respond he was already standing up and striding away.
‘Jack, I’m sorry!’ she shouted belatedly as a couple of teenagers charged through some double doors sniggering. She shoved the helmet on her head to hide her embarrassment and marched out to the moped. How had she got it so very wrong?
‘So what did you do?’ asked Carly as Beth finished retelling the events of the previous night.
‘I got on the moped. I was hardly going to run after him to see if he wanted to compare notes.’ Beth switched the phone to her other hand as her palm was sweating from holding on to it for so long. She had gone over and over the whole thing and whichever way she looked at it, it was a mess of her own creating. If only she had questioned Petra more perhaps all this could have been avoided.
‘You could swap stories. At least he would understand,’ said Carly. ‘Ooh, it could be the thing you have in common.’
‘I can think of a million better things to have in common other than domestic violence!’ The irony of the situation wasn’t lost on Beth.
‘Okay, sorry. The thing I don’t get is why did Petra warn you off him?’
‘It’s a good question and one I’m hoping to get answered at work later on. Anyway, how are things with you and Fergus now you’re home?’
‘We’re fine. I know the trip to Ireland was for his granny’s funeral but being away has definitely helped. We are happy and we are ticking over nicely.’
Sounds like Shirley’s old car, thought Beth with a smile. ‘And is ticking over enough?’
‘It is. I am living in the now, not in a fantasyland.’
‘I’m proud of you, Carly, I think that’s a healthy approach.’
‘Do I need to bring sleeping bags when I come to stay for the panto at the weekend?’
‘No, it’s okay. You and Fergus can have my bed and I’ll sleep on the sofa. We’ll be fine.’
‘I’m looking forward to doing the signing at the panto, especially now that Fergus is coming too.’
It was nice to hear that their relationship had steadied itself and they seemed at last to be over their bumpy patch, thought Beth, which was more than she could say for her own relationships. She cared about them both and they seemed well suited when they weren’t annoying each other and that was just something they would have to learn not to do.
Beth stepped out into the ice-cold rain and trudged the few short steps to the pub, bumping into Shirley on the way. She had her plastic-bonnet-covered head down as she battled against the elements.
‘Hi, Shirley. Hello, Mittens,’ said Beth trying to peek into the trolley.
‘She’s deaf!’ said Shirley, shaking her head at Beth as if she were potty.
‘At least she’s dry in there,’ said Beth as the rain started to lash down harder. ‘I’d better go.’ She made a run for the cover of the pub doorway. The pub was quiet, the rain and wind keeping both visitors and regulars away. When there was nobody nearby and Petra had stopped polishing glasses Beth saw her opportunity.
‘Petra, you know on New Year’s Eve when you warned me about Jack’s past? I think I might have got confused. Can you run through it again, please?’
Petra sighed. ‘I don’t want to speak out of turn.’
A bit late for that, thought Beth. ‘What did you mean exactly?’
Petra looked hopefully around the bar but there were no customers to use as a distraction so she returned her eyes to Beth. ‘You are both my friends. I like you both. I could see you getting close and I know how much Jack has been hurt in the past. And I know how you are always telling me that soon you will be leaving, that you cannot stay. I did not want him to be hurt again. He was hurt very badly by someone he cared about.’ She made a face that made her look a little like a chimpanzee eating an orange and Beth expected that was her being conciliatory.
‘So when you said that he was involved in domestic violence, you didn’t mean he was hitting someone?’
Petra looked shocked; her hand flew to her mouth and it was a moment before she spoke. ‘No, not Jack, of course not. His girlfriend, she had problems,’ she tapped the side of her head for emphasis, ‘and she would throw things at him and she would …’ She stopped talking. ‘I have said too much. It is not for me to say. But no, he was the one getting hurt, not the other way around. I am sorry, did you think?’ Beth nodded. ‘Did you say this to Jack?’
‘Not exactly but … I may have implied it,’ said Beth, wincing at the thought.
‘What now?’ said Petra.
‘I’m not entirely sure. But you were right about me planning to leave, so thank you for that. A relationship with anyone is not what I need right now.’
Petra shrugged. ‘Uh, it is a shame as you would make such a cute couple.’ She winked as she stepped past her to serve a lone wet customer.
The pub door opened and in with the chill air came Jack wearing a heavy coat with the collar turned up. Beth froze. A thousand unspoken words passed between them as they exchanged looks. Jack stood for a moment before lowering his eyes, turning around and leaving. Beth caught Petra watching her and she shrugged her shoulders. She’d made her decision not to get involved, possibly not based on correct information, but it was the right one. However, that didn’t mean she wouldn’t regret it.
The cottage felt smaller somehow with Fergus in it. Perhaps it was watching him duck every time he switched rooms? They were Beth’s first planned guests and she was pleased with her efforts to make things feel homely. Willow Cottage was still very much a work in progress but all major works had been completed with the exception of the disastr
ous bathroom and the hall and the dining room and the gardens … so maybe not all major works then, she pondered. There was also a large flashing question mark over the boiler, which seemed to have a serious attitude problem and only worked when it felt like it. The other jobs on the Willow Cottage list were time-consuming but low cost and nothing she couldn’t do herself if she put her mind to it. The garden would have to wait until the spring but there was enough inside to keep her busy until then. Perhaps she could even say she was over the halfway mark?
Willow Cottage looked a whole lot better on the outside with the rambling plants long since removed and the door and window frames repainted. It was now a bit of a mismatch with the unkempt front garden, rickety fence and missing gate. The willow looked slightly odd after its haircut but she knew it wouldn’t be long before spring came and it would start to grow again. Pretty much like her hair that she had finally managed to get cut in Stow. She had decided against colouring as that was a luxury she couldn’t afford, and she’d warmed to her natural golden coffee tones.
The back garden wasn’t a lot better than the front with the grass worn bare in patches thanks to Leo and his football and the odd hole that Doris had dug. The plants seemed to be more self-regulated here and although they were full they hadn’t yet taken possession of the lawn.
After the pleasantries and the oohs and ahs at how the cottage was looking had been dispensed with, the conversation moved on to Leo.
‘He’s doing really well. He has made friends and there’s another single mum …’
‘Petra at the Bleeding Bear,’ said Carly as she signed.
‘The bloody bear?’ chortled Fergus, deliberately misreading the sign.
‘It’s the pub, it’s called the Bleeding Bear,’ explained Beth. ‘Petra’s son Denis and Leo get on really well, so that has definitely helped him to settle.’ She let out an involuntary sigh. ‘He got very fond of Doris, Jack’s dog, but as I don’t dog-sit any more he’s missing her. I don’t want to admit it but I think he’s missing Jack too.’ She had never really explained to Leo what had happened, which was good because now she would have to explain that it had all been a mix-up, but it still meant that Leo had lost Doris and Jack from his life without explanation. Beth pushed her hair off her face as she thought about the situation, the guilt still intruding on her thoughts.
Escape to Willow Cottage Page 23
