Patrick, the crafty sod, hadn’t given him any time to think or say no, had just told him it was an emergency. Ned was so used to jumping when his friend said jump it was only now that he realized the full implications of what he was about to do. He and Sophie were going to come face to face for the first time since his dreadful faux pas and he didn’t have a clue what he was going to say, or indeed how she was likely to react. All he knew was that he was being thrown in at the deep end and that he cared very, very much what the outcome was. He didn’t want to blow it. He lit a fag to calm his nerves, then remembered that Sophie got car sick and chucked it out the window.
He arrived at the cinema and searched through the crowds for any sign of her. He didn’t want her to think she’d been abandoned. She was just coming through the swing door and at first Ned didn’t recognize her. She had on a pair of jeans and a bright pink cotton knit sweater that barely covered her midriff. Her skin seemed almost blue; her eyes were huge and hollow with dark rings underneath. She stopped dead when she saw Ned. He smiled as widely as his nerves would allow him.
‘Patrick asked me to pick you up.’
‘Oh.’
She looked like a startled woodland creature about to bound off into the undergrowth. Ned screwed up all his courage and walked towards her.
‘Soph – I’ve been dying to speak to you for ages. There’s so much I want to say – but I don’t know what to say…’
He faltered. Sophie said nothing, either to discourage or encourage him. But at least she hadn’t run away, so he ploughed on.
‘I need to explain about…’ He couldn’t quite bring himself to say lovebite, but he knew she knew what he meant. ‘When I saw you at the dance you seemed so out of reach. I didn’t think I had a hope in hell. I thought you’d grown out of me. And I was gutted. The bottom line is I got totally out of it and shagged Mayday. I should never have done it, I know that, but I’m a bloke. A stupid bloke at that. And I know everyone probably says it when they get caught out, but it didn’t mean anything.’
Sophie looked as if she had half a mind to run away, but she didn’t seem to have the strength. Ned walked over and gently took her bag off her. He put it on the floor and put his hands on her shoulders. She trembled at his touch. He pulled her to him – it was now or never. After all, he’d got nothing to lose.
‘I’ve been a total plonker. All I can say is I’m sorry. And I want you to forgive me. Because…’ Ned took in a huge breath. He’d never said this before to anyone in his life. ‘I love you.’
There was a moment when she tensed, as if ready to take flight, but then she relaxed, fell against his chest in submission, capitulation, and wrapped her arms round his waist. She didn’t need to say anything. Her actions spoke louder than any words of forgiveness.
Ned wrapped his huge arms round her and squeezed her tight. He could feel her ribs, her shoulder blades, through her sweater, as undernourished as an orphaned lamb who wouldn’t feed and who Ned knew from experience would finally give up the fight for life and perish. He wasn’t going to let her go the same way. He was going to build her up, get the roses back in her cheeks and the light back in her eyes.
They stood that way for some moments, Ned grinning his silly head off, bursting with love and pride. Sophie finally lifted her head from his shoulder and looked at him shyly. She was smiling too.
Ten minutes later, Ned swung into a pub car park.
He sat down and ordered sausage and mash for both of them. Sophie protested that she wanted a salad, but he put his foot down.
‘You need to put some weight back on. You look dreadful. Like a bag of bones.’
Sophie was shocked. The only good thing that had happened lately was that she had got down to under nine stone and was practically a size ten.
‘I’m serious,’ Ned continued. ‘It doesn’t suit you. You look ill. I want the old Sophie back – ’
‘You mean the fat one – ’
‘You weren’t fat. You were just right. Cuddly. Men like something to get hold of. At least I do. If I gave you a hug right now, you’d snap.’
Sophie stared at him with big-eyes.
‘Try it.’
‘What?’
‘Try it. Hug me. I won’t snap, I promise.’
Ned didn’t need any excuse. He scooped her up for the tenth time in half an hour and she nestled in to him. Ned had ignited a little warm glow inside her that was gradually thawing out the frozen feeling she’d had for the past few weeks, since Christmas Day, since her father’s accident. She found she no longer craved the empty hollowness she had been focusing on lately. Denying herself food had given her something to think about, had stopped her from brooding on her problems, and she’d revelled in her weight loss. But now she realized she was just starving hungry. She devoured her sausage and mash. And when the barmaid came to clear their plates and asked if they’d like dessert, she ordered bread and butter pudding. Ned smothered it with cream when it arrived, and she protested out of habit. But she was laughing while he spooned it into her mouth, pretending to force-feed her like a reluctant child, and he knew things hadn’t gone too far, that she hadn’t toppled over the edge. He’d come to her rescue just in time.
James had popped into Budgens for some unsalted butter and a pot of Greek yoghurt when he saw Georgina filling up a trolley. He went to greet his niece.
‘Georgie.’
‘Hi, James.’ She carried on filling up the trolley. She seemed subdued, not herself at all.
‘Is everything OK?’
‘No, it bloody isn’t.’
James flinched. Georgina was known for being blunt, but she wasn’t usually rude.
‘What is it?’
To his horror, she burst into tears in the middle of the aisle. Noisy, childish sobs that drew attention to both of them.
‘Georgie – for heaven’s sake…’
‘It’s awful at home. Mum and dad aren’t speaking. It’s horrible. Mum just makes bitchy remarks and dad just sits there. And mum can’t even be bothered to do the shopping. I got back from school at lunchtime and there was nothing to eat. I had to get Patrick to bring me here – ’
She snivelled into his chest. James did his best to comfort her.
‘Listen, Georgie. It’s been a shock for everyone. I expect your dad’s a bit depressed after his accident. And it’s been a strain for your mum.’
‘She doesn’t care about dad. I can tell.’
‘Of course she does.’
‘I’m going to ask if I can board. Then I won’t have to sit there while they snipe at each other.’
James pressed his lips together. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. Georgina had her GCSEs in a few months’ time. She needed love and support, not the breakdown of her family unit. He wiped her tears, helped her get her shopping together and pack it into the back of the Defender, then waited for Patrick to come back. He spoke to his nephew sotto voce.
‘I gather things are pretty grim chez vous?’ Patrick shrugged.
‘I’m out most of the time, to be honest. Or working. But it’s not good, no.’
James said nothing, just patted Patrick on the shoulder as he got into the car.
James waited till Patrick had driven off, then phoned Honeycote on his mobile. Luckily for him Lucy answered.
‘We need to speak. Now.’
‘I’m about to cook supper.’
‘No, you’re not. I’ve just found Georgina in Budgens doing the bloody weekly shop, Lucy. Meet me at home in ten minutes.’
He hung up before Lucy could contradict. She stared at the receiver, her stomach churning. She’d deliberately avoided James since Mickey’s accident. They’d come into contact with other people around, of course, but she hadn’t come face to face with him to discuss what had gone on between them. She couldn’t put it off any longer.
She had a feeling that whatever happened next, it was going to be a turning point. It filled her with a mixture of dread and relief. She knew things couldn�
�t carry on the way they had been. She wasn’t herself at all. She had no interest in anything; she could barely manage to get a meal on the table, and if it hadn’t been for the children she wouldn’t even have managed that. She just couldn’t be bothered, and although she did next to nothing she felt tired all the time. And what was worst was that she was snappy, not just with Mickey, who deserved it, but with everyone, as if she had permanent PMT. And every time she heard herself snipe, she shrivelled up inside. She couldn’t live with herself like this for the rest of her life, but she wasn’t sure how to move on. She hurried out to her car, without telling Mickey where she was going.
James didn’t even bother to offer Lucy a drink. He wanted to get straight on with what he had to say.
‘For God’s sake, Lucy. You’ve got to sort yourself out. Your whole family’s being affected. Georgina was practically having a nervous breakdown in Budgens. She’ll flunk her exams at this rate. You’ve got to snap out of it. There’s no point in everyone wallowing in misery. Either make it up with Mickey and bloody well be happy. Or come and live with me.’
‘You can’t give me an ultimatum like that.’
‘Of course I can.’
‘It’s none of your business.’
‘Yes, it is. Because I love you, Lucy – ’
Lucy put her hands up as if to fend him off.
‘Please, James. I can’t take emotional blackmail on top of everything else.’
‘Hang on a minute. I haven’t finished yet. I love you, but I also love Patrick and Sophie and Georgina. And, dare I say it, Mickey. But it’s up to you, Lucy. You’re the only one who can decide which way it’s going to go. I know I’m forcing you into a corner, but there’s too much at stake to sit there and watch while everyone’s happiness goes down the plughole. You’ve got to make a decision.’
It was the most impassioned speech James had ever made in his life, and he had to hold his hands behind his back to stop them shaking. He looked at Lucy. She looked back at him defiantly.
‘So it’s you or Mickey? That’s what you’re saying?’
‘I suppose so.’
Lucy contemplated going to live with James for a moment. She counted up the people it would affect if she did. Mickey, Sophie, Patrick, Georgina… And she didn’t even know if she’d be happy with him. It would be a huge risk.
Whereas she thought she could be happy again with Mickey. She had been for twenty years, after all. She was just going to have to bite the bullet and forgive him. Move on. James was right. There was no point in everyone suffering. And she certainly couldn’t go on with things the way they were. Life was dreary; a grinding emotional tedium that set her teeth on edge. The atmosphere in the house of late had been so oppressive that she couldn’t even face guests; she couldn’t be bothered to put on a brave face. She woke each day with a dull ache in her heart and went to bed at night desperate for sleep, her only escape. She didn’t suppose it was any different for Mickey.
James clenched his fists while she turned things over in her mind, battling with himself to keep his distance. If he touched her, he’d be lost. Every inch of him wanted to sink to his knees in front of her and beg. Finally she turned to him with a sigh.
‘I couldn’t do it, James. I’ve got to stay.’
He sighed.
‘Of course you have. I know that. But in that case, please make it up.’
Lucy moved towards him. He flinched inwardly: he didn’t want physical contact with her. He didn’t want her sympathy. So he said what he’d sworn to himself he wouldn’t, just to keep her at arm’s length. ‘And don’t forget – you’re guilty too. You wouldn’t have much of a leg to stand on if Mickey found out about us.’
Lucy looked at him sharply. Was that a threat? Would he ever tell his brother? She thought not; he’d have nothing to gain. But he certainly had a point.
James watched her go sadly. He couldn’t deny that he’d had the tiniest pinprick of hope that she might chose him over her life at Honeycote. But he hadn’t been surprised when she hadn’t. Moreover, he was gracious enough to be able to hand her back to her family without protest; he wasn’t so arrogant as to expect their happiness to be sacrificed for his sake. Yet again, he was doing the gentlemanly thing.
Lucy got back from her confrontation with James feeling utterly drained. As she walked back into the kitchen, Sophie flew into her arms, eyes shining.
‘What is it?’
‘It’s Ned. We’ve made it up. He’s taking me out clubbing tonight.’ She looked at her mum anxiously. ‘If that’s OK? Patrick and Mandy are coming as well.’
‘Of course it’s OK, darling.’
Sophie was bubbling over with excitement and panic. ‘What am I going to wear?’
Lucy spent the next half hour going through Sophie’s wardrobe with her, giggling and trying things on. She realized it was the first time she’d had fun this year; the first time she’d laughed. And as she saw the four of them off to Cheltenham, the girls looking incredibly glamorous and the boys each slightly anxious, but trying not to show it, she felt a pang of shame.
James was right. There was no point in her and Mickey spending the rest of their lives wallowing in misery. She allowed her imagination to wander as far as Sophie and Ned’s wedding, she and Mickey sniping all the way to the church, undermining everything marriage stood for. Wedding vows might be a cliché, but they were true.
She walked into the sitting room. Mickey was in there watching some trashy Saturday evening game show. He looked up at her. He’d given up trying to smile at her lately; it only made her retreat further into herself. But to his astonishment she smiled at him. Very tentatively, and it didn’t quite reach her eyes, but it was a start.
‘We need to talk,’ she said. ‘We can’t go on like this.’ Tears sprang into her eyes. ‘We need to…’
She could hardly get the words out.
‘I don’t want to live like this any more.’
Mickey swallowed. He wasn’t sure what she was going to say. Was she going to kick him out? Ask for a divorce? She’d got grounds. Unreasonable behaviour. Adultery. Take your pick.
‘So what do you want?’ His mouth was dry, but he thought he’d do the honourable thing for once. ‘If you want a divorce – ’
To his surprise, she looked at him horrified. An icy trickle ran down her spine. Perhaps that was what he wanted. Perhaps Mickey had been unhappy all this time. Perhaps it wasn’t her choice at all, and he wanted out. She spoke in a whisper.
‘Is that what you want?’
‘My God, no!’
Mickey grabbed her.
‘I want us back again. You and me. The way it used to be.’
He squeezed her so tight it hurt. For a moment she resisted, every muscle in her body rigid with tension. She’d spent so much time blocking him out lately that it went against the grain for her to capitulate. But as she felt the strength of his arms around her, and smelt his warm, familiar smell, she realized that all she wanted was to be held by him, for all the horrors of the past few weeks to recede and for the healing to begin. She relaxed, and as he hugged her to him even more tightly, she began to cry. She’d wept bitter tears on her own before now, but she hadn’t been able to share them with him. The relief was enormous.
Eventually her tears subsided and she found she was able to snuggle into him.
‘So – what do we do? Forget any of this ever happened?’ Mickey knew he was being a tad optimistic.
‘No. We can’t do that.’ She wiped her eyes. ‘We can’t forget it. Because that’s the only way we can make sure it doesn’t happen again.’
So they talked. And Mickey was surprised to find that what Lucy had found even more hurtful than his adultery was the fact he’d kept his problems a secret from her; that he hadn’t been able to confide in her how desperate things had become. She told him that she’d felt a fool when the truth had come out, like some dippy little wife who couldn’t be trusted. Mickey insisted that he’d just wanted to protect her, b
ut Lucy insisted she didn’t want to be protected. Perhaps if he’d been honest with her from the start, things might have turned out differently.
By the end of the evening, they had made a pact. From that day on, they would have no secrets from each other. And although both of them knew that it wouldn’t be easy, that there would be sticky moments, at least they had a clean slate.
Most important of all, they both agreed, was that they had to trust each other. For what was a marriage without trust?
When Sophie, Patrick, Mandy and Ned came back at two in the morning after a tour of all the clubs in Cheltenham, they found Mickey and Lucy fast asleep on the sofa in front of the telly, which was still blaring. Lucy’s head was on Mickey’s shoulder and Pokey was at their feet. Sophie tucked a rug round the pair, and the four of them sneaked off to compare notes on their evening, none of them voicing the relief they felt that things were obviously going to be all right.
24
By mid February, there was a firm strategy in place at the brewery. A board meeting was held, where Patrick gave a very effective presentation outlining plans for each of the pubs. He’d produced a concise ream of graphs and pie charts illustrating sales targets, profit and loss margins, best and worst case scenarios that made Cowley beam from ear to ear and which Mickey was surprised to find he understood.
Patrick was thriving under Keith’s guidance. He’d taken up every challenge that was set him, and found that once he had started to look at ways of maximizing both efficiency and profit at the brewery he was fired up with enthusiasm and full of inspiration. It was wonderful to be able to get his teeth into it at last. He couldn’t blame his father for keeping him at arm’s length all that time. He obviously hadn’t wanted Patrick to get at the truth. But now it was all out in the open, Patrick let his imagination run riot, and found a mentor in Keith. Together they went to visit all of the tied houses, and it was up to Patrick to compile a report on each, summing up its strengths and weaknesses and suggesting what direction should be taken. At the same time, Patrick took it upon himself to visit rival pubs, and compiled a substantial document outlining the local competition, what worked, what didn’t and why.
Honeycote Page 35
