Follow Me Home

by Cathy Woodman

  I reach out and touch Isla’s outstretched fingers. She gives me a tiny smile, yawns and closes her eyes.

  ‘I’m sorry. I’m boring you,’ I smile, looking back at Rosie. ‘You’re looking great.’ Motherhood suits her.

  ‘Adam’s brought your gran’s stuff back,’ she goes on, nodding towards him.

  He hands me a coat and purse. ‘Rosemary asked me to look after these last night, but I lost her in the crowd and I had to run up to the King’s Head for the last barrel to cheer for Guy.’

  ‘Oh, thank you.’ I’m touched and relieved. ‘That’s really kind of you. I thought she’d lost them. Why don’t you stop for a cup of tea with us?’

  The young couple glance at each other.

  ‘No, thank you,’ Rosie says. ‘I’d like to get Isla home in time for her next feed.’

  I escort them back downstairs, making sure they have some sweets as a gift before they leave the shop, and then return to Gran and our unfinished conversation.

  ‘Now, where were We?’ I begin, and smile to myself; if I can’t remember, what hope is there for my grandmother? ‘We were talking about you moving to a place where you can be looked after properly, where you can be safe.’

  ‘Are you suggesting I go into an old people’s home?’ she says, looking affronted this time. ‘Oh no. I will only leave here in a cardboard box.’

  ‘I don’t think you mean that.’

  ‘I certainly do. I shan’t leave until I’m carried out in my coffin,’ She grasps the edge of the table with both hands. ‘You can’t make me, Sarah.’ A tear forms, glinting from the corner of her eye.

  ‘I’m Zara. Sarah is your daughter.’

  ‘Why do you want to put me away?’ she asks.

  ‘I don’t want to.’

  ‘Then why are you telling me this?’

  ‘Because I’ve tried really hard to make sure you can stay here, but it isn’t working for either of us. You need someone to look after you full time, and I can’t do that because I have to go out to work with my ladies and their babies. Do you understand?’ I repeat.

  ‘Oh yes.’ Gran nods vaguely. ‘You have a lovely day. Will you be wanting tea tonight?’

  ‘No, thank you. We’ve been through this already.’

  ‘Aren’t you going to work then?’

  ‘Not till tomorrow morning.’

  ‘I think I shall go back to bed,’ Gran announces. ‘Goodnight, Zara.’

  ‘Goodnight,’ I sigh. I mean, good morning. It’s ten o’clock in the daytime.’

  ‘What did she say?’ Mum asks when I go back downstairs.

  ‘I thought she’d be heartbroken, but I’m not sure what she thinks, whether she even understands what I’ve been saying.’ It’s me who’s devastated, not my grandmother. ‘You know, I think she’ll be all right about it in the end. At the moment, she can’t remember what we’re talking about from one minute to the next.’

  ‘I’ll make sure we have her place confirmed and paid for,’ Mum says. ‘Dad’s looking into putting the shop on the market.’

  ‘It would be a shame if it became a charity shop, or ended up being converted into a house. I’d like to see it stay as the local newsagent’s.’

  ‘So would I, but who will take it on? It needs a lot of work to update it. Anyone who comes in will want to modernise the flat.’ Mum marks down reductions on some packets of chocolate buttons close to their best-before date. ‘It could be difficult to find a buyer, but as Gran would say, we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.’

  The next morning, my father looks after the shop, and I’m glad to get out and about because my grandmother insists on being there with him to make sure he gets it right. As I leave, Dad comments that it’s going to be a very long day.

  I visit one of my ladies, Charley, in Talymouth. Her husband, Ian, is a builder, and her house is an example of his work, set on top of the cliff looking out to sea, and extended in all directions. I wouldn’t choose to live here if someone paid me, because when you look down the garden, you can see the new fence that Ian put up to replace the one that fell onto the beach last winter after a prolonged spell of heavy rain. In another ten or twenty years, the house will be gone too.

  Charley isn’t as far on as she hoped, and I have to explain that I’ll come back in a couple of hours to see if she’s progressing.

  ‘I feel a bit of an idiot now,’ she says.

  ‘This is your first baby – it’s often difficult to tell when labour starts, but these are Braxton Hicks contractions, not the real thing.’

  ‘Is there any benefit in having an induction, a stretch and sweep, for example?’ she asks.

  ‘Why are you so keen to get this going? It’s only a day past your due date.’

  ‘It’s the football. Ian has an important match tomorrow.’

  ‘Does he play then?’

  ‘Not for Arsenal.’ Charley chuckles. ‘No, he’s got tickets to watch a match with some of his mates.’

  ‘I’m not inducing you for a football match. Ian can surely be here for this one-off occasion? I mean, you don’t have a baby every day.’

  ‘And Ian doesn’t get tickets to Arsenal every day either.’

  What can I say? I’d be annoyed if my partner told me he couldn’t make it to the birth of our child because he was going to a football match.

  Charley rings me later to say nothing has changed, so I don’t see her again until midday the following day when labour has definitely started and the baby is on her way.

  ‘Ian’s at the match,’ she announces. ‘He’s texted me to let me know he’s there.’

  ‘Okay, let’s see. How long will it take him to get back?’

  ‘Several hours. The match hasn’t begun yet.’

  ‘Tell him to turn around and come straight back, otherwise he’s in danger of missing out on the birth.’

  As it turns out, Charley does everything she can to slow the process down, but nature cannot be stopped. When you’re in labour, you have no choice but to go with the flow, but Ian is lucky because, having threatened him with instant divorce if he arrives home too late, he turns up in his Arsenal shirt and slightly the worse for wear, with several of his mates, five minutes before his daughter is born.

  ‘You are so going to have to make this up to me,’ Charley says, cuddling her baby to her breast.

  ‘It’s all right, darling. It worked out. Lee drove down the motorway at eighty, I made it home in time and the Gunners won.’ He grins, revealing a gold crown on a front tooth. ‘It’s the best day of my life.’ He opens the bedroom door and calls down the stairs. ‘Come and see the baby, and bring me a beer – there’s plenty in the fridge.’ I pack up my kit and make an attempt at clearing up in the presence of seven inebriated football supporters who are intent on wetting the baby’s head.

  ‘Thank you,’ Charley says, when I’m ready to leave.

  ‘Make sure you kick them out in the next half-hour,’ I smile. ‘You need to rest. Kelly will be back tomorrow. Any worries, let me know.’

  It’s been a long day and, when I reach home, I find three missed calls from Lewis, but I don’t return them. There’s also a message from Emily asking me to ring her, which I do. She wants me to meet Lewis.

  ‘He keeps going on about it,’ she says. ‘He’s driving Murray mad.’

  ‘I don’t want to see him,’ I say. ‘Don’t you understand?’

  ‘All he’s asking is if you’ll go out for a walk with the dogs.’

  ‘And how do you think that makes me feel?’

  ‘You could just catch up with him this once. It’ll break the ice before you next come over to the farm for Sunday lunch. It wouldn’t kill you, would it? And anyway, I think you owe him for helping you find Gran. He’s a lovely guy and you two could still be great friends.’

  ‘I don’t think I can be just mates with Lewis. It wouldn’t work.’ I pause. ‘I’ve got more important things to deal with – Gran, for example.’

  ‘You’re going to let
Mum and Dad help you?’

  ‘Yes. I can’t go through this any more. The other night, she scared me witless, going missing like that.’ I can’t help picturing her on the Teacup ride at the fair, spinning around without a care in the world. It seems doubly cruel to take away her home, her way of life, and deny her that freedom to do whatever she likes, but gradually her loss of independence is encroaching on my freedom and, although it sounds selfish, I can’t let it go on.

  ‘Zara? You’ve gone quiet. Are you okay?’

  ‘I feel so mean.’

  ‘I know, but it’s the right thing to do. No one will blame you – except Gran,’ Emily goes on ruefully.

  ‘Thanks for that. That’s what I’m afraid of. She’s going to hate me after this.’

  ‘She isn’t well. If she was her normal self, she’d understand.’

  I bite my lip.

  ‘It’s easy to say . . .’

  ‘I know,’ my sister agrees quietly.

  I wish her goodnight.

  ‘Night, Zara.’

  I have a shower and go to bed, falling asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow.

  Having parked the car at the foot of the escarpment, I keep Frosty on the lead, walking along the steep path between the coppiced beech and hazel, the branches arching overhead and the sunshine casting dappled shadows through the autumn leaves, until I reach the plateau that looks out towards the sea. I stroll among the bracken, yellow gorse and purple heather to the wooden signpost, where I turn left and take a seat on the bench to take in the view and wait for Lewis and his dogs.

  How do I feel? A little annoyed with myself for giving in and agreeing to meet him after all. Nervous too. But in the end I thought, why not? Maybe it’s easier to clear the air when it’s just the two of us, rather than wait until my whole family is watching.

  A cold wind stings my cheeks and ruffles Lewis’s hair as he strides towards me. Frosty tugs on the lead, twists her body and wrenches it from my grasp, tearing up to Lewis, barking with excitement. She leaps up into his open arms, leaps out again, jumps up and sticks her nose into the pocket of his trousers, and pulls out what looks like a banknote before tearing it up into shreds.

  ‘That was twenty quid,’ he says, looking down ruefully. ‘What did you go and do that for, Frosty?’

  ‘I’m sorry. She’s pleased to see you,’ And so am I, I want to say, if I’m being honest with myself. If I were a dog, I’d be wagging my tail too.

  ‘She has an expensive way of showing it.’ Lewis pauses without making any comment on the progress of Frosty’s training. ‘It’s good to see you, Zara.’

  ‘You too,’ I say, even more nervous now because I feel too much for him ever to be just friends.

  ‘Thanks for agreeing to meet.’

  ‘Half an hour,’ I remind him. ‘That’s all.’ I relent a little, feeling more cheerful. ‘You’ve had two minutes already.’ I stand up and catch Frosty while Lewis whistles for the collies, which greet me calmly. I bend down and stroke Mick and then Miley. I’ve missed them. It’s as if Lewis and I had our own little family that fell apart when I broke up with him.

  ‘You can let her off, can’t you?’ he says. ‘Mick is here to act as Frosty’s ears.’

  ‘She’s missed that,’ I say, unclipping her lead.

  ‘Let’s walk.’

  We stroll closer to the edge of the slope and pause by a clump of trees to gaze out at the water. I lean against one of the trunks, glancing up at the fungi that emerge from the tree’s core like giant dinner plates. Lewis places his palm against the bark and stands so close to me that I can feel the warmth of his breath on my skin.

  ‘I haven’t stopped thinking about you,’ he says, so quietly that I can hardly hear him over the sound of my thundering heart. It is as though he is shepherding my emotions, rounding up the good ones and driving the bad away.

  ‘Please, let’s not go there.’ I force myself to take back control before I’m swept up by a wave of lust and desire.

  ‘How would you feel if I asked you again to take me back?’ Lewis scrapes his fingernail across the trunk and chips off a fragment of bark. ‘I’ve talked to Mick and Miley and, although they’re good listeners, they aren’t brilliant at dishing out advice. If they could have an opinion, they would probably tell me I’m on a hiding to nothing? Am I, Zara?’ He drops his hand and gently touches my fingers. I draw back, burying my hands in my coat pockets as my heart pounds a familiar rhythm.

  I shake my head. I didn’t come here for this.

  ‘I don’t want to think about it.’ I hear my voice grow harsh. ‘I’m going back to the car – your time is up.’

  ‘You agreed to meet me, so you might as well listen,’ he says, blocking my path.

  ‘I only came because you and Emily wouldn’t give up, and you were kind helping look for Gran. Don’t read any more into it.’

  ‘Do you hate me that much?’

  ‘Of course I don’t hate you, but I can’t take you back. It isn’t that straightforward.’

  ‘It seems very simple to me.’

  When he stands in front of me like this, the old feelings come rushing back, but the underlying reason for my decision to break up with him remains the same. It’s a physical pain, raw, throbbing and unrelenting. I’m barren, empty, infertile and incomplete. I can’t have Lewis’s children.

  ‘I mean it when I say I love you more than anyone in the world,’ he goes on. ‘I’ve had time to think, to reflect on what I really want out of life, when I’ve never taken it all that seriously before. I’ve missed you more than anything. I told you, I can live without a child, but I can’t live without you. I’ll never let you down. I promise.’

  I stare out to sea, my mind an ocean of uncertainty. My head is telling me to stay back and keep life simple, while my heart is telling me to go for it. I gaze back at him, his eyes glinting with that animal passion that I cannot resist. I want him. He wants me. Isn’t that enough?

  I stumble forwards, straight into his arms, and somehow his lips land on my mouth, or my mouth lands on his lips, I’m not sure which, and we’re kissing like we’ve never kissed before.

  Lewis pulls away slightly. I can hear his breathing, ragged and matching mine.

  ‘Does this mean . . .?’ he whispers.

  I nod, at the same time as a dog, no, three dogs, start barking.

  ‘Look at that,’ Lewis says, stepping aside so I can see Frosty, Mick and Miley standing in a row, staring at us, open-mouthed, ready to bark again.

  ‘I think they’re telling us it’s time to move on,’ Lewis says, taking my hand.

  ‘Let’s go,’ I add, happy to start again and see where it takes us.

  ‘When we said we’d see where it goes, I didn’t imagine we’d end up down here,’ I say, staring out through the windscreen of the pick-up and trying to work out what Lewis is so excited about. We’ve been back together for over a month now, and it’s a Saturday afternoon in early December, the day of Lewis’s twenty-fourth birthday. The trees are bare of leaves, their branches dark against a pale wintry sky, and we’re parked on the edge of Talyton’s industrial estate, not far from Overdown Farmers and the garage where I have my car serviced.

  ‘This seems a strange place to choose to celebrate your birthday. What am I supposed to be looking at?’ I ask.

  ‘The vista ahead.’ Lewis drums his fingers against the steering wheel. ‘Tell me what you see.’

  ‘A desolate landscape,’ I respond.

  ‘Look more closely.’

  ‘Okay, I can see a rusty five-bar gate locked with an even rustier padlock and chain with a kind of wasteland behind it. Isn’t this the place where Frank Maddocks used to live, the father of the guy who abandoned Frosty?’

  ‘That’s what I’ve been told. It’s come up for rent and I’m first in the queue. It isn’t much, just a couple of acres, but it’s a start.’ Lewis smiles. ‘It’s for the sheep.’

  The mention of sheep reminds me. I was going to give him his bir
thday card later with the meal I’m supposed to be cooking for him, a romantic evening with candles and a DVD, but it seems more appropriate now. I pull the envelope from my bag.

  ‘You’d better have this,’ I say leaning across to kiss his cheek. ‘Happy birthday, my darling.’

  ‘Thank you,’ I watch him open the card and pick up the piece of paper that slips out. ‘What’s this?’

  ‘It’s an IOU, as in “ewe”.’ I spell it out for him. ‘I want to buy you your very first sheep, but I couldn’t exactly go to the market to pick one up, and keep it in the annexe.’

  ‘Oh, that’s brilliant. You are a genius.’ Lewis hugs me. ‘I can buy several sheep, if I go ahead and rent this place.’

  ‘Are you sure it’s suitable? It’s full of rubbish.’

  ‘Come on, let your imagination run riot.’

  ‘I’m sorry, but I’m struggling. The only things running riot are the weeds.’

  ‘It needs a bit of work – that’s why it’s cheap. I’ve spoken to Murray and he’s offered to give me a hand.’

  ‘I wouldn’t touch it. It’s a terrible mess. It’ll take years to clear up.’

  ‘You have no vision, Zara.’

  ‘You have no sense of reality.’ I stop winding him up, not wanting to hurt his feelings because he’s clearly sold on the idea of starting his farming enterprise here.

  ‘We have to start somewhere.’

  ‘We?’

  ‘I was hoping it could be a joint venture. Why don’t you come and have a look?’

  I glance down at my feet.

  ‘No excuses. I’ve put your wellies in the back.’

  ‘You came prepared.’

  Lewis reaches across the back of the seat and rests his arm around my shoulders. With his other hand, he strokes the inside of my wrist, sending thrills of anticipation across my skin.

  ‘I want your opinion.’

  ‘What do I know about land and sheep?’ I chuckle.

  ‘I thought I’d taught you quite a lot over the past few months.’

  We walk to the gate and I climb over after Lewis, who turns and takes my hand to help me over a piece of discarded corrugated iron which lies between us and a clump of small trees. Beyond these lies a clearing of concrete hard-standing.