The Green Hills of Home (18 page)

Then she saw it, a note. A single
word.

‘Upstairs’.

Gwen grinned to herself and
climbed up the stairs, forcing herself not to do it at a full out run.

Gwen felt unbelievably happy and
yet the whole situation seemed very unreal. How did she just happen to fall
into this ‘relationship’, if that’s even what it was, with John? Did he
consider it to be just a fling? Was she making a huge mistake and risking her
future career? And yet she knew that she couldn’t just walk away from him. He
was the first man she’d known that she felt really valued her for who she was
and seemed to fit perfectly with her and her life. She never thought she’d say
that after their decidedly dodgy start. With John in her life and in the house
she loved, and would soon own, Gwen felt more content than she had for a long
time.

Later that evening they busied
themselves downstairs with the last of the day’s chores, enjoying each other’s
company.

"Did you miss me when I was
in London?" asked John as he tucked Gwen’s hair behind her ear and kissed
her neck.

"Yes," said Gwen,
blissfully giving in to John’s attention and grateful not to be having to play
games anymore and skirt around her feelings.

"I missed you too,"
said John quietly. Then he looked at her intently and asked in a very serious
tone: "You didn’t really use the coffee machine did you?"

"No" said Gwen honestly
and mimicking his sombre manner.

"Would you like me to show
you how to use it again?"

"Maybe later."

"Would you like me to just
go and make you a coffee?"

"You make the coffee, I’ll find
some biscuits."

"Good plan."

Gwen turned to John as he was
busy fiddling with the coffee machine.

"I thought you hated me, you
always seemed so keen to get away from me," she said.

"Of course I didn’t hate you,"
replied John, stopping what he was doing and giving Gwen his full attention. "I
was nervous around you and didn’t want to make a fool out of myself or be
caught staring at you. I couldn’t stop thinking about you from the moment you
bumped into me in the street that day, and I was amazed when you turned up
later at the Bar."

"Why didn’t you say
anything?"

"I was going to but you kept
leaving! The next time I saw you I was pulling that yob off you in the
corridor. I was so angry with him I could barely control myself let alone carry
on a conversation. I don’t want to think what would have happened if I hadn’t
turned up when I did."

"Me neither," said Gwen
in a small voice. "Thank you again, so much."

"There’s no need to thank me,"
answered John, a little gruffly.

"Yes there is," said
Gwen softly, "There’s every need, you saved me. I’m very grateful."
She leaned in to kiss him, but pulled away suddenly saying: "There’s one
thing that I still don’t understand."

"What’s that?" asked
John.

"Why did you pretend not to
recognise me when I came to your office?"

John was silent for a moment
before he answered: "I’m sorry about that, I’m not entirely sure. I was
angry with Paul for giving me a new author, one who was completely unpublished,
when I had so much work already on and I didn’t think the company had the
resources. And I’ve always prided myself on my ability to keep my private life
completely separate from my job. Then you turned up. I was still trying to
accept the strength of my attraction to you and I was thrown by having you
appear in my office."

"I think I understand, at
least a little now."

"I hope you do, I had no
idea that you also had feelings for me. I never would have acted that way if
I’d realised. I’d never want to hurt you. You have to appreciate that my life
has revolved around my work for years and I’ve never met anyone who affected me
as much as you. I was completely thrown."

He was silent for a moment before
continuing: "I’ve got some stuff I need to tell you, but not right now.
Now I just want it to be you and me; nothing else matters."

Gwen looked at him questioningly,
feeling a small lump of unease in the pit of her stomach but she forced herself
to let it go. If she and John were going to work then she had to trust him.

"We’ll sort it out, let’s
just enjoy this," said John as he wrapped his arms around her and kissed
her on the nape of her neck.

"Let’s go up to bed,"
said Gwen.

"Are you tired my darling?"
asked John worried.

"Oh no," answered Gwen,
with a glint in her eye, and she led him back upstairs and into her bedroom.

Gwen was woken gently by John the
following morning. She looked at her alarm clock and saw it was barely seven.
She turned to John and was surprised to see he was already showered and
dressed.

"I need to go back to London straight away."

"Sorry?" said Gwen,
sitting up and doing her best to come round properly.

"I’ve had an email from
Paul. He hasn’t got the number here and he’s been trying to contact me on my
mobile but of course there’s no signal."

Gwen felt a wave of guilt run
through her, but admonished herself straight away: it wasn’t her fault, and why
would his work need him so urgently anyway? She had to allow herself a little
smile at the thought of John sneaking downstairs so early to go on-line, she’d
wondered when he would break, and she was amazed that he’d managed to go longer
than a few hours without checking his email; he hadn’t looked at it since the
previous afternoon.

"He needs me back in the
office, there’s a problem with the company. I’ve got to leave, but I’ll speak
to you later, ok? And I’ll be back again as soon as I can, the weekend at the
latest. I’m really sorry," he said, bending down to kiss her.

"It’s fine," said Gwen
quickly, sensing how worried John was that she’d be upset or angry. "Of
course you need to go back if there’s a problem. I’ll get up and have some
breakfast with you."

"No, you go back to sleep.
I’ve already let Oscar out so he’ll be alright for a while. I carried him up
the stairs; I think he wanted to see you."

On cue, Oscar’s nose appeared
over the edge of the bed. He looked at John beseechingly and John lifted him up
to join Gwen.

"Thanks, that was thoughtful
of you."

"I’ll go straight to the
office so I’ll call you this evening when I get home."

John gave her one last kiss
before going. Gwen heard him close the front door behind him as he left and
then fell back into a deep sleep, Oscar by her side.

Gwen was awoken some time later
by the telephone ringing. She staggered groggily out of bed and hurried
downstairs to answer it, worrying that it could be bad news from the hospital
but hoping it was John calling because he was already missing her. When she
answered the phone she didn’t recognise the voice on the other end.

"Good morning, is that Gwen
Jones?"

"Yes, who is this?"

"My name is Julia Davis, I’m
calling from Black Horse Publishing."

"Oh, hello Julia," said
Gwen, in a manner which she hoped was both friendly and businesslike. "I
think we spoke last week about my contract; is it ready for me?"

"I’m afraid not,"
replied Julia. "I was actually calling to inform you that we’ve decided
against publishing your manuscript at the present time. We’ll be happy to
reconsider it again at a later date, but I’ve been told to tell you that you
should feel free to submit to any other publishers that you think may be
interested in it."

She sounded as if she were
reading from a script. There was absolutely no emotion in her voice as she
spoke the words that ripped Gwen’s dream to shreds.

Gwen was too shocked to say
anything.

"But why?" she
eventually managed to murmur.

"I’m afraid I don’t have
that information."

"Right. Well, thanks for
letting me know," said Gwen quietly.

After she put down the phone, she
sunk to the floor, and wondered in disbelief that John, her John, could have
let this happen. He must have known about it, she was his author, why hadn’t he
at least warned her if there was nothing he could do to stop it. He knew that
she’d never received her contract, and without that she imagined she wouldn’t
have a leg to stand on. Then it hit her that John hadn’t even tried to save her
deal. He hadn’t had emergency meetings with his superiors to fight for her
contract. He’d stayed here, making love to her.

Gwen picked up the phone again,
she’d call John, he should be in his office by now, maybe he could explain? 
Maybe he’d be as shocked as she was. Her doubts that this was true began to
re-enter her head before she’d even finished dialling the number.

"Good morning, Black Horse
Publishing. How can I help you?" murmured a bored sounding female voice at
the end of the line.

"Could I be put through to
Mr Thatcher please?" asked Gwen.

"Who’s calling?"

"It’s Gwen Jones."

"I’m afraid that Mr Thatcher
isn’t available at the moment, can I take a message?"

"No thank you," said
Gwen and put down the phone. Why exactly am I bothering to call him, thought
Gwen to herself: he obviously knows what has happened; he should have called me
by now. What am I expecting him to say if he does? I know how much his job
means to him, he’s hardly likely to go against a company decision just to help
me.

Who am I kidding? It must have
been his decision, that’s why he didn’t want to work on the manuscript this
weekend, he wouldn’t waste anymore of his precious time on it once he realised
that he and his company didn’t want it anymore. Instead he decided to take advantage
of me, and I stupidly let him.

How could I have believed that he
truly cared for me? He can’t have any feelings for me – how can he and do what
he’s done? Is he even capable of having feelings for anything other than his
job?

Am I really so lonely living here
by myself that I created a fantasy, and he played on it?

Ever practical, she began
planning an emergency schedule to contain the situation as much as possible.
First item was to phone the mortgage company. That call didn’t take long: now
she had no book deal they were withdrawing their mortgage offer. Gwen and her
mother would lose their house when it was auctioned.

Gwen turned on her laptop
furiously and logged into her email account. She changed the settings to block
any mail from John and got rid of his email address and anything he’d ever sent
her.

She considered calling her phone
company and asking them to bar John’s numbers, but he could always just use a
different phone, if indeed he did ever want to contact her again. Gwen decided
instead to unplug the telephone and the internet connection.

Next, she climbed into her car
and drove to the nearest large supermarket she could find. After buying wine
she went to investigate if there was any mobile phone network at all that might
possibly work at the farmhouse. She left half an hour later clutching her first
mobile and a good signal booster, a combination the salesman thought had a
small chance of success. She began charging the phone as soon as she got home
and was thrilled to find she was able to call the hospital to give them the
number and ask that it be added to her contact details. She left the mobile on,
safe in the knowledge that John didn’t have that number, but the hospital did
if there was an emergency.

Her last task for the day was to
put John and Black Horse Publishing out of her mind. She knew if she dwelt on
losing her book deal and how much it had meant to her then she would find it
even harder to concentrate on writing, and writing was what she knew she must
do. This was a set back, but she wouldn’t let it destroy her dream.

Gwen didn’t think she could
possibly feel any worse but discovered that in fact she could when the post
arrived the next day. Mixed up with the usual junk mail was a letter from Black
Horse confirming that they would not be publishing her manuscript, or anything
else by her.

Steeling herself, Gwen picked up
her new mobile and called the company, resolving to speak to John one last time
for closure and get him to admit his wrongdoing. She needed to hear from John
himself why he had treated her in such an appalling way, both personally and
professionally.

"May I speak to Mr Thatcher
please?" she asked as a female answered the phone.

"Who shall I say is calling?"

"It’s Gwen Jones."

"I’m afraid he’s unavailable
at the moment. Is there anything else I can help you with today?"

"No, thanks," replied
Gwen, before suddenly blurting, "Actually could I speak to Paul Worthing
then please?"

"I’ll put you through"
answered the efficient voice at the end of the line.

A moment later and Paul picked
up.

"Hello."

 "Hi Paul, um…it’s Gwen
Jones," It was at this point that Gwen realised she had no idea what
exactly she was going to say to him.

Silence rang down the line before
Paul finally responded with artificial cheer, "Gwen sweetheart, how are
things?"

"Well, it’s about my book."

"Yes, I did hear about that,
such a shame. I really thought it had great potential."

"You did?"

"Of course, but as John’s
your editor I have to follow his recommendation. I can’t ask him to continue
working with an author whom he has no confidence in."

"Oh" said Gwen quietly,
shocked to hear what she’d suspected said out loud.

"Was there anything else?"
asked Paul, who was now quite obviously anxious to get off the line.

"No thank you" said
Gwen.

She put down the phone and began
to cry as if her heart would break.

Gwen couldn’t avoid going to the
hospital forever, however painful she expected the experience to be. She
steeled herself to visit on the third day of hanging around the house moping,
and determinedly got in her car. Gwen was still trying to decide what to tell
her mother as she drew up in the hospital car park.