A Vintage Summer

by Cathy Bramley

  He laughed meanly under his breath. ‘There’s no “of course” about it. I heard you on the radio yesterday, Lottie, boasting that you were engaged. I googled this Jensen Butterworth, he works for a firm near Tower Bridge. And I googled this place. A bit weird, isn’t it, that as soon as you do the dirty on me, you get a job here and five minutes later you’re engaged and expecting?’ He placed himself between me and my front door. ‘So this is what I think: you were seeing him behind my back in London and when you realized you were pregnant you ran. Bitch.’

  A surge of anger propelled me towards him.

  ‘It wasn’t like that. It isn’t like that,’ I yelled at him furiously, trying to wrestle the key back out of his hands. ‘I didn’t meet Jensen until I started working here. This is your baby. I left you because you scared me. Like you’re scaring me now. Please go. Leave me alone before I call the police.’

  He stepped away from me and tossed the key to the ground. ‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Don’t call the police.’

  I picked up the key, put it in the lock, turned it and, heart pounding, pushed inside, locking the door behind me.

  He knocked on the door. ‘We need to talk. Open the door.’

  ‘What’s left to say?’ I shouted.

  He can’t touch me now. I repeated it over and over in my head as I poured myself a glass of water and gulped it down.

  ‘I was taking steroids,’ Harvey shouted from outside. ‘The pressure to build muscle at that gym was huge. So I started taking pills. And they worked. Everyone commented on what good shape I was in. Even you.’

  That was true. At least it had been at first. Then he went too far; he looked out of proportion, like a triangle.

  ‘But what they don’t tell you about steroids is the mood swings,’ he said. His voice had calmed down now and I could tell he was leaning against the door. ‘I’d get this red mist, this flood of anger, and my heart would speed up. The slightest thing would set me off. It was uncontrollable.’

  It made sense. Our relationship had been much better before he’d started working at that gym. Not perfect, I accepted. I realized now that he had always had his own interests at heart; what I wanted had always come second. And I was worth more than that. I knew that now. It had taken Jensen’s thoughtfulness to show me that there was a different way to be loved.

  I moved closer to the door. ‘And you’ve stopped taking them?’

  ‘Yes.’ I heard him exhale. ‘I got into a fight. I was charged with assault and I lost my job. I’ve had a shit time, Lottie. But it was the wake-up call I needed.’

  ‘And yet you stormed up here, fists clenched and accused me of sleeping with someone else behind your back?’ I said archly, braver now there was a thick oak door between us.

  ‘I learned my ex-girlfriend was pregnant and engaged to someone new. I learned that I might be about to be a father. And I found out all this from a radio show. How did you expect me to react? When exactly were you going to tell me?’

  My stomach churned. I supposed he did have a right to be annoyed at least about the baby. But my private life was none of his business any more.

  ‘I’m not engaged to Jensen; that was made up for the radio programme. Long story,’ I added as he started to protest. ‘And my dad was going to tell you about the baby once it was born, because I was frightened about how you’d react.’

  He was quiet for such a long time, I wondered if he’d gone.

  ‘That makes me feel very ashamed,’ he said finally. ‘Please open the door; I want to talk to you properly.’

  ‘No, Harvey.’

  ‘Please, just for five minutes, then I’ll leave you in peace.’

  I bit my lip. He did sound much more subdued now and if he stayed outside shouting, Betsy might hear him and get worried.

  ‘Okay, but only for five minutes,’ I said, against my better judgement. ‘And I’ll have my phone in my hand the whole time and if you even lay a finger on me, I’ll call the police.’

  ‘I won’t, I promise.’

  I unlocked the door. Harvey smiled grimly and stepped inside. ‘Thank you.’

  He walked closer and I retreated to the other side of the kitchen table, holding my phone where he could see it.

  ‘So how are you?’ he asked, wiping beads of sweat from his forehead. ‘Is the pregnancy going okay, I mean?’

  I nodded. ‘I was ill to begin with, but now I’m full of beans again. I’m nineteen weeks so the baby is starting to get quite mobile.’

  It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him that I had a scan coming up but I didn’t want to risk him wanting to see the baby for himself. Not having Jensen there was going to feel bad enough, but having Harvey there in his place would have felt extra cruel.

  ‘And you’re looking forward to being a mum?’

  I nodded warily. ‘I am now. It took some getting used to, seeing as it was an accident.’

  Harvey’s lips twisted into a smirk.

  ‘Actually, it wasn’t a complete surprise to me.’

  I frowned questioningly. ‘How come?’

  ‘I pierced the condoms a couple of times.’

  I stared at him. ‘You did what?’

  He sniggered and I felt my anger rise again. ‘I thought I’d better check you were working properly, seeing as your sister is barren.’

  Shock snatched the air from my lungs.

  ‘How dare you make those sort of decisions on behalf of someone else? There is nothing wrong with my sister,’ I spat at him. ‘And quite clearly, there is nothing wrong with me. You’re insane.’

  ‘Yeah, well, all’s well that ends well,’ he said as if bored by the conversation. ‘You just said you’re happy, so you win. Whereas I’ve moved into a squat and have had to get a dead-end job at a call centre because no one will employ me now I’ve got a criminal record.’

  I shook my head in disbelief. What had I ever seen in him? He was looking at me, waiting for me to say something. I floundered around trying to think of something.

  ‘At least you’re off the steroids,’ I said. ‘Well done on that.’

  ‘Anyway, blossom,’ he made a point of looking around the cottage approvingly, ‘you look like you’ve landed on your feet here so don’t bother chasing me for child maintenance, or anything, because half of zero is zero. I’m skint.’

  I stiffened. ‘Don’t call me blossom. My dad called my mum that, and hearing it come from you taints that memory I have of them together.’

  He laughed cruelly. ‘Yeah, I know that. Why do you think I called you that in the first place?’

  I’d never told him that. I blinked at him. ‘I don’t follow you?’

  He rolled his eyes. ‘You posted a photo of your folks on Facebook once. Some soppy thing about wanting to find a man who loved you as much as your dad loved her. Someone to call you blossom and bring you flowers, all that shit.’

  My head started to spin. ‘That was years before I met you.’

  ‘I know, I read everything you’d ever posted. And when I got to that bit I thought, you’ve hit the jackpot, mate, that’s a guaranteed shortcut into her knickers.’ He gave me an evil grin. ‘I was right, wasn’t I?’

  ‘You’re sick. I hate you. Get out!’ I launched myself at him, punching his chest, but he was far too strong for me.

  ‘Please,’ I begged. ‘Please leave us alone.’

  ‘Us?’ He barked with laughter. ‘It isn’t born yet. But okay, I’m going. And remember, I’m not paying for it, or having anything to do with it.’

  ‘Can I have that in writing?’ I swiped the tears from my face. ‘Because I never want to set eyes on you again.’

  He opened the door and hesitated in the doorway before pulling me roughly towards him.

  ‘One last kiss for old times’ sake, eh?’

  ‘Don’t you dare!’ I gasped, struggling against him.

  Before I could escape, he crushed his lips against mine. Our teeth clashed and I tried to scream as I tasted blood. But his hand was grippi
ng the back of my head too tightly.

  Finally, he ended the kiss and I staggered backwards, tears blinding my eyes. But he hadn’t finished. With one hand squeezing my arm, he ran his other hand down over my breasts and circled my bump.

  ‘I made that, remember,’ he said, his eyes glinting.

  The shock of such a violation sucked the air from my lungs. My mouth was open in horror but no sound could escape. With a slight shove he released me and ran lightly down the path.

  My blood thundering in my ears, I collapsed against the door frame, and as my breathing began to steady, I became aware of a car parked outside Betsy’s house, its engine still running.

  Jensen.

  It was Jensen. He’d come for me. Thank the Lord.

  A sob rose in my throat. I wanted to run to him but my legs had turned to jelly. Instead, I stepped clear of my front door and waved wildly, tears coursing down my cheeks.

  But to my horror, Jensen reversed the car, span it around and drove off. I caught a glimpse of his stony expression as he passed but he didn’t even look my way.

  I was devastated; presumably he’d driven all the way up from London to see me, only to witness what Harvey had just done. No wonder he had jumped to the wrong conclusion – who wouldn’t?

  I watched uselessly as he disappeared out of sight, passing Harvey on his way up the drive. With shaking hands, I dialled Jensen’s number, but even though I knew he had a hands-free device in his car, he didn’t answer. I tried again but this time he sent the call to voicemail. I rang a third time and this time pulled myself together enough to leave him a message.

  ‘Please come back. What you saw was just Harvey being an idiot. Please come back and let me explain.’

  I waited on the doorstep for ten minutes but Jensen didn’t return. Eventually, my bones weary with exhaustion, I trailed back inside and shut the world out.

  I could scarcely take it in. Everything about my relationship with Harvey had been fake: from stalking me on Facebook to pretending to take care of contraception. Even his body, courtesy of steroids, was fake.

  And my shock pregnancy – it wasn’t unplanned at all; at least not as far as Harvey was concerned. How dare he play Russian roulette with my body? I would never forgive him for this, never. If I had needed further convincing that I didn’t want Harvey to have any part in my baby’s life, this would have been more than enough to do it. But Jensen wasn’t to know that. He’d been honest with me: if my ex was on the scene, he’d back away. And that was exactly what he’d done. And if he wouldn’t take my calls, he’d never know the truth. I’d just have to hope that he’d listen to the message I’d left for him and trust me.

  It was only early afternoon and the day had gone on far too long for my liking. I headed for my bed and pulled the covers over me.

  Stop the world, someone, I want to get off.

  Chapter 31

  For the next few days I stumbled around like a zombie. I told everyone who’d listen that I’d had an unwanted visit from my ex-boyfriend but that he was now out of my life for good in the vain hope that it would somehow get back to Jensen. But he didn’t get in touch and after leaving him five messages, I resigned myself to the fact that he wasn’t going to. I put our pretend engagement ring in a drawer and tried to forget how golden that day in London had been from start to finish.

  Betsy had no knowledge of her grandson’s fleeting visit on Saturday and wasn’t aware of how things had spiralled and subsequently plummeted between us and there didn’t seem any point in involving her in the whole sorry tale. She informed me on Monday morning that he would soon be heading off to South Africa to take on an exciting new role and wouldn’t be back for a while. She passed on his regards and good-luck wishes with the baby, at which point her eyes had filled with tears and she’d admitted that although she couldn’t have been more proud she’d miss him terribly.

  You and me both, I’d thought desolately.

  The only bright spot had been on Sunday, the day after Harvey had paid me a visit, when Darren and Evie had called in while they were out walking their new dogs. The two English Setters had made themselves at home straight away and it had warmed my heart to see my sister and brother-in-law so happy. And while Starsky sniffed warily around both of the bigger dogs, Darren told me that they’d made an appointment with an adoption agency and that, fingers crossed, they’d soon be on the waiting list for a child of their own. It seemed that they had got their happy ending after all and I was so pleased for them that I buried my face in Evie’s shoulder and we’d both cried. I’d already told her what Harvey had said and done, and both of them had been furious and horrified on my behalf, agreeing that I should try to put him out of my mind for good.

  It would be a long time before I could forget or forgive his actions, but I was determined not to let him mar the baby’s future – or mine, for that matter. I could manage perfectly well on my own if I had to. And thanks to Harvey, it looked as if I might. Before they left, Evie offered to come to my next scan with me. She also suggested I put everything I wanted to say to Jensen in a letter, that way at least he’d know how I felt. And deciding that I’d got nothing to lose, I’d done just that.

  I wrote that I’d heard he’d taken the promotion and that I was happy for him and wished him every success. I explained that the things Harvey told me had cast a huge question mark over our relationship. But one thing was certain: I never wanted to see him again as long as I lived. And I tried to express how much Jensen meant to me …

  You said that me having another man’s baby didn’t matter to you as long as that man isn’t in my life. I promise you he isn’t, but I understand if you feel differently now. But for me, nothing has changed. You have captured my heart in a way that no one else has ever done. I shall be counting down the months and weeks until you come home, and will pray with all my strength that you feel the same way.

  Love always,

  Lottie xxx

  So Jensen knew how I felt and knew where to find me and yet by Friday afternoon, a week after the radio show, I still hadn’t heard a word from him. The only possible conclusion was that I’d misread the signs. So even though I still felt as if I’d been run over by the Coca-Cola Christmas truck, I knew I had to pull myself together. The grapes were almost ready to be harvested; there were a million and one things to be done and no time to be moping around feeling sorry for myself.

  Elsewhere, a celebratory mood still hovered over the vineyard following our triumph on the radio show and that, coupled with the promise of a decent harvest, meant that I couldn’t keep my lovely volunteers away and everyone had put in extra hours all week.

  Roger, who must have bolted for the school gates as soon as the afternoon bell had gone, had taken Godfrey and Pippa straight out amongst the vines. They’d each got refractometers and notebooks and were taking readings from all four corners of the vineyard. Matt and Clare, meanwhile, were having a sort-out in the winery and hosing down the tanks ready for the pressing of the grapes – whenever that might be.

  When to harvest the crop was keeping me awake almost as much as my heartache over the Jensen/Harvey fiasco. And despite the fact that all the others had been here longer than me, no one else seemed to want to make the decision for me. The consensus was that the longer we could leave the grapes on the vine, the sweeter and juicier they’d be. But we were almost into October. The evenings were getting cooler and darker and the dew was staying on the grapes longer in the mornings. We couldn’t pick the crop when it was wet or damp, picking in the dark wasn’t ideal and a sudden run of bad weather could scupper us completely. I was hoping the readings we took today would help me at least schedule in the first day of harvesting.

  I put my coat on, made up a tray of tea and biscuits, and trudged down the path to take it to the team in the vineyard. A strong breeze had picked up since this morning and as I walked past the line of tall slim conifers at the edge, a layer of amber vine leaves at my feet, I heard the unmistakable creak of branches.
I looked up to see that the third tree along was looking decidedly brown and a large section of it had broken off from the trunk and was hanging at a precarious angle. I made a mental note to call Adam to come and remove the tree as soon as he could. The last thing we needed was that falling on top of someone.

  I carried on, setting the tray down on the bench in the centre of the vineyard and shouted, ‘Tea time!’

  Roger appeared first, wearing a waterproof jacket and walking boots. He strode towards me, tapping his notebook.

  ‘There’s a big variation within the Pinot Meunier vines,’ he said, pointing out the range of numbers written on the page. ‘The top corner has definitely benefited from being sheltered by the wall; the readings are much higher there than, say, the lower section, over here.’ He wafted an arm towards the middle of the vines.

  I studied the readings while he spooned sugar into a mug of tea.

  ‘This is my favourite time of year at the vineyard,’ said Pippa, arriving next, full of smiles. Her hair was tousled from the wind, her cheeks were rosy and with her thigh-length cable-knit jumper over a long floral skirt and tan ankle boots, she looked like a model for Burberry. ‘Ooh, tea; excellent.’

  She helped herself and handed me the readings she’d taken from the Pinot Noir. I scanned the numbers.

  ‘Not bad, are they?’ she said, dunking a biscuit. ‘I’m sure we harvested at lower sugar levels than those last year?’

  I nodded. ‘So that gives us a starting point; we pick the Pinot Noir before the Pinot Meunier.’

  Godfrey, who’d been working at the very bottom of the vineyard, came into view, wheezing uphill towards us from the lowest parcel of Chardonnay vines. Wisps of his white hair were escaping from under his hat just above his ears and his face was pink from the wind.

  I had his tea ready to hand him by the time he reached us. ‘I’d say the Chardonnay could do with another week,’ he said breathlessly. ‘A bit more sunshine would make all the difference.’

  ‘If we get any more sun,’ said Roger. He pulled at the zip at the front of his jacket, frowning at the sky, which was looking as grey as my mood this afternoon. ‘This weather is getting a bit too cool for my liking.’