Country Lovers

by Rebecca Shaw

  “I thought I had cancer.”

  “Why didn’t you say?”

  “I was too frightened.”

  “Letty!”

  “Rose made me go. You know what she’s like for being so sweet and kind; somehow I just came out with it and said how terrified I was, so she made an appointment for me at the doctor’s and took me. She was dreadfully rude to them, but it meant I got an appointment straightaway. I’ve been such a fool! I daren’t believe that I might be pregnant.”

  Colin studied the printout again. “It is true, isn’t it?”

  “Oh yes! But they don’t tell you if they can see it’s a boy or a girl unless you ask.”

  “Did you ask?”

  Letty shook her head. “I was in shock. It never occurred to me. I couldn’t believe what was happening. I told Dr. Mason he was wrong. I refused to believe him, in fact. I said I’d got cancer. I told him I couldn’t possibly be pregnant, not after years of giving up all hope. But it’s true. Isn’t it? I mean, look.” She showed him the printout again.

  “When we wake up in the morning and it’s still true, then I shall really believe it. I can’t take it in right now.”

  “I thought you…you said…you said ages ago you didn’t want children. I was so disappointed when you said that, it took me weeks to get over it. You see, I thought I was a disappointment to you. I know they said we were both OK, keep trying, but I honestly felt it must be me.”

  Colin put an arm around Letty’s shoulders and kissed her temple. “I remember saying that, but I only said it so you wouldn’t feel too badly about not having children. Thought it would help.”

  “So you are pleased then?”

  “Of course I am.” He squeezed her shoulder again, his eyes on the scan. “I can’t believe it.”

  “Neither can I. It feels like a dream. I’ve been so disappointed so many times. All that yearning and longing. Maybe that was why I bullied you so much.”

  Colin opened his mouth to protest that she hadn’t.

  Letty laid a gentle finger on his mouth. “Hush! I know I did. Don’t try to be kind. I did, Colin, and I’m ashamed of myself. Rose says Dan is pure gold, and I could say the same about you. Pure gold. And I’m sorry I’ve been so unpleasant all these years.” She stretched out her hand to straighten his tie for him. “It was you who sent me those flowers and the complimentary card from that beauty shop and the weekend in Paris. You organized that, didn’t you?”

  Colin nodded.

  “I never guessed, you know, not till just now. Pure gold, I said, and pure gold you are. Thank you for that. It was just what I needed. It made such a difference to me. It made me a new person, lighter hearted, kind of. But it did the trick, didn’t it?” Letty laughed up at him and was rewarded with another kiss. “We’ll light the stove. I’ve laid it; it just needs a match, and to celebrate we’ll have a predinner sherry before we eat and talk about babies and what we’ll need. Dinner won’t take five minutes to put together.”

  Colin looked at her with a solemn expression on his face. “Mothers-to-be shouldn’t drink alcohol.”

  Letty’s hand flew to her mouth. “Ohhhh! Of course not. I never thought! That’s the loveliest thing anyone has said to me, ever.” A younger, fresher, more vibrant Letty kissed him on his mouth and then said, “I’ve always loved you, Colin, but it kind of got lost under layer upon layer of resentment and anger. But that’s sloughed away like a snake shedding its skin, and it happened all in a moment.”

  THE news was all around the practice by first thing the next morning. The reaction to the news went from sheer hysteria at the amazingly unexpected announcement, to wholehearted delight. Colin had to take huge amounts of leg-pulling from the male members of the staff, and someone suggested with a wink that it must have been the trip to Paris that had done the trick. Others said how pleased they were for Letty and for him, and Dan mentioned the sleepless nights and the upheaval a small baby can make in a household, but he shook Colin’s hand with vigor as he congratulated him.

  Colin took it all in good humor but found Rhodri’s response difficult to understand. He didn’t say the right words, and the expression in his voice was all wrong. “Lucky man, you are, Colin, bach. Very lucky. Bit of a surprise for us all, let alone you and Letty. Still, congratulations are in order.” And he’d shaken Colin’s hand with less enthusiasm than if he’d been congratulating him on winning the father’s race at a school sports day.

  But Colin wasn’t to know how despairing Rhodri was. He’d had as much as he could take from Megan’s father the previous night. Megan had asked him to go for a meal and take a look at their farm cats while he was there. She’d managed to capture them all in the tack room close to the house when she fed them that afternoon.

  “They’re mostly feral cats who appear and disappear at will. These two black ones are ours; we brought them with us when we moved. The rest we kind of inherited. I don’t know much about it, but I wondered if they had cat flu. Some of them are very low in spirits, and three of them have sticky eyes. What do you think, Rhodri?”

  Rhodri counted ten cats altogether. “You feed all these every day?”

  “Well, our own two come in the house and are fed morning and night, but the others I feed out here every afternoon; and our two turn up in the hope of stealing food but they never do—they’re too soft to put up a fight.”

  “I suppose you never handle these others.”

  “They won’t let me.”

  “See the gray and white? I’m pretty sure that has flu. Its eyes are all bunged up, and I saw it sneeze just then. Appears listless too, disinterested kind of. Those two ginger ones might be going the same way. Are yours vaccinated? I expect they are.”

  “Yes, definitely. They won’t catch it, will they?”

  “They shouldn’t. The only way is for me to prescribe antibiotics and for you to put it in their food every day, and hope for the best.”

  “Is that all we can do?”

  In the dim light in the tack room, Rhodri looked at her, the wholesomeness of her refreshing his spirits after his hard day. “Give me a kiss.” She did with her familiar gusto, arms wrapped round his neck, hair tickling his face, and in his nostrils the lovely fresh smell of her he so loved.

  “Must go in, Rhodri, the vegetables will be boiling dry. You always smell so nice, of tweed and disinfectant.”

  “Oh! Thanks. I did shower before I came out.”

  “Doesn’t matter, it’s always there, but it’s the nicest possible disinfectant. My favorite, but that’s only because it’s you. Come on, see Da.”

  Rhodri’s heart sank. The price he had to pay for Megan’s company felt too high tonight. Old Man Jones was sitting scrunched up in his favorite chair, all the trappings of an invalid scattered on the usual table. Tonight, despite the warmth of the August evening, he had a rug over his knees.

  “Good evening, Mr. Jones. How’s things?”

  “Much the same. Grateful for the slightest easing of the pain. What about the cats? Megan says she’s asked you to take a look.”

  “That’s right. I’m fairly certain they’ve got flu. Well, some of them have, but the thought of taking blood samples from that wild lot! So I’ve decided a general intake of antibiotics will possibly do the trick, and we’ll have to keep our fingers crossed.”

  Mr. Jones almost snarled, “I’ve told her not to bother with the wild ones. They’re a waste of her time. As if she doesn’t have enough to do. Damned idiotic of her.”

  Rhodri sat himself down on the sofa. “It’s her kind heart; she can’t help but adopt them.”

  “You should know.”

  Rhodri looked at him and raised a questioning eyebrow. Mr. Jones said with a sarcastic lilt to his voice, “Well, she’s adopted you.”

  “Are you putting me on the same level as a feral cat? Am I no more than that?”

  Mr. Jones shrugged his shoulders. “Take it how you like. That’s how I see you. You’re also a waste of her time.”

&
nbsp; Rhodri, angry because he’d used the same words about him as he had about the cats, answered angrily, “That’s insulting to me and to Megan. We love each other, a fact you appear well able to ignore. Do you know what she said to me the other night?”

  “How could I?”

  “She said she wished she’d been born a boy.”

  “She’s right, I wish she had.”

  “Don’t you feel that’s terribly sad?”

  “Not at all.”

  “Well, you should, you should be ashamed to have made her feel like that. Ashamed.”

  Mr. Jones painfully levered himself out of his chair, and standing as upright as he could he shouted, “You are a guest in my house; how dare you speak to me in that way!”

  Rhodri rose to his feet expecting Mr. Jones would topple over any minute, but he didn’t; he didn’t even search for his stick.

  Rhodri shouted equally as loudly, “Because what I’ve said is true. She sticks by you, managing your farm, taking orders like a lackey when she’d prefer to be taking part in real life instead of being locked up here with you. You’re a tyrant. A bully. A selfish, mean-minded bully. But you’re her da so she takes it, but watch out because one day the worm might turn.” He sat down again, more angry than he could remember.

  “She’d never leave me. And if you think for one minute that she’d leave me to marry you, I can tell you now she never will. So you might as well stop sniffing after her like a randy dog. Just disappear and get a job somewhere else. You’re not welcome here. Now, help me into the dining room, she must have got the meal ready by now. Come on, where’s my stick? Jump to it.”

  Rhodri was so full of anger that he decided to leave Mr. Jones to find his own stick and stagger into the dining room alone, but Megan came in and asked him to help her father. “I’ve put the food out. Would you like wine tonight, Da?”

  Mr. Jones shook his head. “No. Ale will do instead.”

  “Oh! I thought we’d have wine, with Rhodri being here. I’ll get a bottle.”

  “Did you hear me? I said no wine.”

  Megan blushed with embarrassment. “Would you like wine, Rhodri?”

  “As it would appear we are going against your father’s wishes, then I suppose we both have to say no, him being the grownup.” He put such an edge of sarcasm in the tone of his voice that Megan quaked.

  Mr. Jones’s colorless eyes focused on Rhodri. “Insolence will get you nowhere. You’re a boy, a fresh-faced youth, you are. I don’t know why Megan bothers with you.”

  Megan leaped to Rhodri’s defense. “Da! Rhodri is my guest. Please! Make an effort to be polite.”

  “In my own house I shall behave as I wish. Seeing as we all feel able to speak our minds tonight, we may as well have it out here and now. I shall not under any circumstances permit you to marry. Not under any circumstances. Let that be an end to it.”

  Rhodri, normally intimidated by Mr. Jones, answered with firm determination. “Has it occurred to you that we could be married by the weekend? All completely lawfully because both Megan and I are above the age of consent. It’s only her affection for you that prevents us.”

  For the second time that night, Mr. Jones got to his feet without assistance. “If you dare do such a thing, I shall disinherit her. Mark my words, I shall.” He wagged a finger at them both. “Do you hear me?”

  “I hear all right. I might remind you that I earn a perfectly adequate salary, ample to support the two of us; and I own my house, so we’d have a roof over our heads. We don’t care where your money would go. We don’t need it. We shall marry, whether you give your consent or not. I will not give up that happiness for anyone. Not even you. We’ll find a way, believe me.” He said it in such a matter-of-fact way that it was a moment before Mr. Jones fully comprehended what he’d said. Rhodri started to eat his dinner, though the fish tasted like chalk and the potatoes like cotton wool. As for the peas and carrots, they resembled the Plasticine ones he used to make in his childhood in the manse.

  Megan sat with her hands on her lap, head down, suffering.

  Mr. Jones abruptly sat down again, white faced and breathing heavily. Lost for words. He reached for his stick and, raising it high, he whipped it down, aiming to hit Rhodri with it, but Rhodri dodged and the stick crashed onto the table, breaking his plate, scattering the food and smashing his glass of water. A deep silence fell. For a moment no one moved.

  Appalled, Megan broke the spell by shouting, “Da!”

  Rhodri hastily pushed back in his chair to prevent the water from running onto his trousers.

  Mr. Jones sounded as though he were being strangled. Every breath he took scored its way into his lungs as though each would be his last. He fumbled to loosen his collar and began gesticulating with his hand. Megan rushed for his inhaler, and when she gave it to him, he inhaled deeply several times and gradually his breathing relaxed and became more normal. Even so it was loud and rusty. Much to Rhodri’s relief, as he didn’t fancy having to do mouth-to-mouth with Mr. Jones. In fact, he doubted if he would bother to, anyway. The nasty, conniving old man that he was.

  “Now Da! What a to-do! Let me help you back to your chair. I’ll keep your dinner warm, no problem.” She helped him up and holding him by the arm she guided him away from the dining table, but Rhodri couldn’t help but notice the vicious glance Mr. Jones gave him as he passed his chair. No, it wasn’t vicious; it was triumphant. So that’s how the cookie crumbles, thought Rhodri. He is a conniving old man. All he wants is to make sure that Megan stays with him to make his meals and do his washing and look after him when he’s ill. Without her, he’d have to go into a home. Uncharitably, Rhodri decided that would be the best place for him too.

  The remains of Rhodri’s dinner had spread from his plate onto the tablecloth, soaked to a sloshy mess by the water from his glass. With Megan distraught and the sound of Mr. Jones’s rasping breath dominating the house, the evening was in ruins and Rhodri decided it was time to leave.

  Heavy with disappointment, he declared, “I’ll go, Megan.”

  “Come in the kitchen.”

  He followed her in and closed the door behind him.

  “Rhodri, you should never have answered him back. He’ll be ill all day tomorrow now.”

  He took her hand to his lips and kissed it. “Megan, you are a slave to that man. No father has the right to keep you tied like this. Hand and foot, you are. Hand and foot. It simply isn’t fair.” He brushed away her hair from her face. “When are you going to claim back your life?”

  “What can I do? What can I do about it?”

  “Stand up to him. That’s what. Get help to look after him; let him see he can exist without you at his beck and call.”

  “He won’t have anyone but me.”

  Rhodri gave a great sigh of despair. “Exactly. Exactly. I love you so.”

  “I love you.”

  “Then we’ve got to plan.”

  “What though?”

  “Don’t know yet. Good night, love.”

  “Here, take your dessert, it’s sticky toffee.” Megan placed a portion in a lidded bowl and handed it to him. “It’s best you go—give me a chance to calm him down. I’m so sorry about what he did, so sorry. Got to get back to him. Good night.”

  Rhodri went out into the night, desolate.

  So when he heard Colin and Letty’s wonderful news, he found it genuinely hard to be happy for them. They were getting all he dreamed about, and the events of last night seemed to have pushed the dream even further away. What had possessed him to stand up to the fellow? He must have been out of his mind. Getting Mr. Jones to like him had been his aim from the start, but all that patient work had gone in a single flash of temper. Daring to attempt to hit him though! Rhodri wished he’d snapped his stick in half, though he’d have looked a fool trying to do that—it was an almighty thick stick. He went to bed, thoroughly depressed and full of anguish, and seeing no way out of his situation.

  Chapter

  • 7
•

  Kate went to bed that same night also full of anguish and dreading the morning. Fortunately for her the mail always came early, and she hoped that tomorrow would be no exception. Exam results! Oh, God! What a fool she’d been to think she could get a good grade just doing tutorials with Miss Beaumont, a chemistry teacher from school. She should have had more sense. She flung off the duvet and lay under the sheet, hot and uncomfortable.

  She and Mia, her stepmother, had been in their new flat three months now, and though she liked it, Kate still hankered for the old house where she’d grown up. For the familiar sounds, the friendly smell of the place, the garden; though she’d hated working in it, she’d always been able to leave it to Mia because she loved gardening. Here they had communal gardens kept strictly regimented with none of the casual charm that a garden of Mia’s was capable of. There were park benches to sit on and architectural features rather than the mad medley of Mia’s country-type garden. Still, moving had triggered Mia into going back to her painting, which was a blessing for her, and at least the frantic activity that her husband’s death had set off in Mia had abated and the relaxed, sweet-natured person Kate had always known had returned.

  Would she get an A, or would she get a B, or worse still, a D, like she’d got first time round? Kate decided that if that were the case, then she’d do zoology, or something else instead, because although she loved working at the practice, doing reception work did not tax her brain nearly enough.

  I’ll let you know, Dad, what I get. I know you’ll be pleased whatever it is. Just wish you were here to crack the bottle of champagne you’d been keeping for the Big Day, as you called it. Tears slid quietly down her face and she wiped them away with a corner of the sheet.

  Kate tossed and turned and eventually fell asleep but kept waking because of the heat and her own agitated state of mind. About three o’clock she was fully awake and went to make herself a drink of tea. A terrible sickening feeling had come over her. Failure. It was staring her in the face. But as Mia would say, she could only do her very best. As she sipped her tea from a mug she’d had since she first went to secondary school and only used when she needed mountains of emotional support, Kate realized that it was all too late anyway. The die had been cast. Whatever would be would be, no matter how much soul-searching she did, no matter how many times she went over her answers, no matter how many times she saw the question paper in her mind’s eye, it was all over and done with. Finished. Decided.