Torn (21 page)

Jessica shook her head, scarcely able to credit her sequence of thoughts. What on earth was she thinking? She'd only just made her decision. This had to stop. Now! She must take the next possible opportunity to see Danny to tell him she couldn't go on with it. She was fond of him, she wanted to be a friend, but anything more was out of the question. It was not good for him and it was not good for her. Already it had prompted an unprecedented degree of introspection and self-scrutiny, and she loathed the rollercoaster of emotions unleashed.

For the next week she agonised over what she should do. He wasn't answering his phone or replying to her messages and texts. She would have to visit him in person, it seemed, to deliver the news she knew it was essential to impart. But it was too hard, and she was too confused. Anyway, why was she so persuaded she should break it off? Was it just to avoid these uncomfortable feelings of shame and guilt? Up until becoming pregnant she'd never questioned her own sexual conduct. Men were free; she had demanded that same freedom. Why question herself now? She'd even begun to use pejorative terms like corruption and innocence, in relation to sex between consenting adults! If she were married, or if Danny were underage, it would be a whole different ball game. But as things stood she wasn't hurting anyone. She wasn't hurting Danny. It was possible to argue that given a bit more time she could actually help him control the over-enthusiastic spontaneity of youth. He would look back and remember her with gratitude. Yet, however much she argued with herself, she knew what she must do, and there was anger and frustration at her growing certainty.

As Jess set off for Gore Farm she felt nearly as bad as she had the previous week, but for a very different reason. Though no longer raining the lowering sky prematurely darkened the afternoon. After a day of continuous rain the roads were still skimmed with water and for the whole journey she had constantly to spray the windscreen and flick the wipers on and off to clear the muddy splash-back from passing vehicles. Her nerves were already under tension; the manic giggling from the back of the car stretched them still further.

Jess had picked the children up from nursery and given them lunch. Now, for the second time in his life, Rory had his overnight things packed into his Buzz Lightyear backpack. This time Jessica prayed the sleepover would prove a success. At least Gilda knew a little more of Rory's background than Alison had. If he woke in the night and became distressed, his very best friend Sasha would be in the bed next to him, and the large-bosomed Mrs Dowdeswell, whom he did indeed seem fond of, would be on hand to offer added comfort. Gilda had been primed to expect the possibility of bad language and told to ignore it should it happen. Jessica was in some doubt whether Gilda would be able to go along with the last suggestion. Best that it didn't happen in the first place.

‘Hello Sasha, my darling,' Gilda said, as she opened the front door. ‘Did you have a good time? Hello Rory. Have you come to have tea and spend the night with us?' Then to Jess, ‘My dear! You looked washed out! Come in. Would you like a cup of tea? Or something stronger?'

‘I won't come in, thanks Gilda. I need to get home, but first I wanted a word with … um. Now, you will be a good boy for Sasha's granny and Sasha's daddy and Mrs Dowdeswell, won't you, Rory? Don't stay up too late talking and playing, eh? I'll see you tomorrow after nursery.'

But Rory had run off mid-sentence without a backward glance.

‘He'll be fine,' Gilda said. ‘Something like this only happens once in a while, but he needs to get used to it. And I don't suppose it will do them any harm if they stay awake late, chattering.'

‘As long as they don't keep the rest of the house awake!'

‘I'm a good sleeper. Now … if it's James you wanted to speak to, he's in with the ewes I think.'

Outside in the chilly courtyard Jessica was strongly tempted to get straight back into the car and drive home. There she could go immediately to bed and pull the duvet over her head. But ahead of her was a whole evening out with Sheila Jordan. At the moment Jess could think of nothing she wanted to do less. It wasn't that she didn't like Sheila, but these days felt constrained with the woman, as if she had to keep a whole part of herself and her life a secret, otherwise be told-off for letting down womankind.

And as for the public meeting, where the two possible routes for the by-pass were to be unveiled for public scrutiny! Now that she was so close to discovering the worst, Jessica would almost have preferred to bury her head in the sand. She did not want to feel passionately about something she could not affect. Better not to know, not to care – that way you didn't get hurt.

She re-wrapped her scarf around her neck. The bruises Danny had left on her body were now just muddy smudges, but there was no need wilfully to expose the one on her throat, which was still noticeable. As she approached the unlit caravan the back of her neck prickled with apprehension at being discovered making this clandestine visit. Unease was muddled with resentment – resentment that she should care about what James or his mother thought. Resentment that she should be here at all, to deliver a message she didn't really want to deliver. She could scarcely believe she was in this predicament.

The urge to leave was strong. She had the perfect excuse – the caravan was in darkness – perhaps he wasn't there. There was only one way of finding out for sure. After coming so far she had to go through with this; to turn back now would be the height of cowardice. The turf was soft and spongy beneath her feet, the air astringent with moisture as she climbed the slope up to the steps. Close to she could hear a murmur of voices. She tapped on his door. She tapped again.

‘Danny?' she called quietly, and turned the handle. There was now a scuffle of movement from inside and a sudden clatter. ‘Danny?' she called again, pushing the door inwards a few inches. Suddenly he was there, bleary eyed, bare-chested, pulling on his trousers.

‘Jess! I thought you were never coming! Quick! Come in!'

‘You were expecting me sooner?'

‘Course I fucking was!' He didn't bother to fasten the combats but grabbed her and kissed her till she was breathless. She could feel his erection, hard against her.

‘Danny, Danny! Please!'

‘What's up?'

‘Danny, stop it, please.' She pushed him gently but firmly away. He stood, staring at her, arms dropped to his side. ‘I've come to say something.' Behind him on the floor, where it must have fallen, lay the radio, muttering away to itself. What was it? PM, she suspected. ‘You look tired,' she added.

‘Yeah. Well, it's been non-stop. Working every night. Often during the day as well. I've just been grabbing a few hours' sleep here and there.' There were shadows under his eyes and the blonde stubble was more beard-like than she'd seen it since New Year. ‘Spit it out then!'

‘I tried to phone,' she prevaricated.

‘I switched it off,' he snapped. ‘Tell me face to face.'

‘You know already, don't you?'

He made no answer.

‘This can't go on. It was a mistake.'

‘You don't want to see me any more?'

‘Of course I want to see you. I really like you, you know I do.'

He looked as if he knew no such thing.

She continued. ‘It's the sex thing … I don't think we should go on with a physical relationship.'

His already compressed expression tightened still further. ‘Because I'm no good at it?' he asked, looking her straight in the eye.

‘No! That's got nothing to do with it! Anyway, you're fine … you'll be fine … like anything, it's just practice.'

‘But you don't want me to practise with you?'

Jessica half smiled. ‘It's not a case of what I want or don't want, it's what I think would be best. Look, we're not in love or anything. Let's face it, we hardly know each other. Far better to step back now, than go on and risk emotions getting involved.' Perhaps it was a kind of arrogance but when she said this she was thinking only of protecting Danny; it did not occur to her that she needed to protect herself. He rubbed at his forehead with the heel of his hand and looked around as if searching for inspiration.

‘I don't know much about love or anything but … but isn't there a connection between us already, like a spir'tual thing, a kind of karma? Isn't that why it happened? You and me? It was like we reco'nised each other. Or do you usually go to bed with everyone you meet?'

She'd not prepared herself for this, that the boy would be a moralist. She had thought he was as happy to go to bed with her as she with him, no baggage, no expectations, no concept of a higher purpose guiding their encounter.

‘Oh, Danny! You know I've had reservations all along.' She looked over his shoulder at the humble conditions in which he lived. They were from different worlds. How had she got herself into this mess? The appeal in his eyes made her feel guilty and resentful. ‘We live such different lives. Have different expectations of the world.'

‘You mean I'm not good enough for you!'

‘Of course I don't mean that!' But at some level he was right. The fact he could see through her made her crosser. ‘Don't be so chippy! I'm just trying to be sensible … to do the right thing.'

‘The right thing for you, you mean.'

‘Is that so bad? Do you really want me to go on with something I truly think is wrong for me and for my son?'

At this he shook his head wordlessly. Her own flare of anger died down as she gazed into his troubled eyes.

‘But I think it's wrong for you, too.'

‘Isn't that for me to decide?'

‘I'm trying to be truthful. I'm not spinning you a line.' Her voice had softened. The brittle wall with which she'd armoured her emotions for this encounter was splintering and falling away. ‘You know I've always tried not to give in.' Jess smiled. ‘But you're just too … damned irresistible Danny!' She drew her hand down over his furred jaw then kissed him, gently, finally. ‘We can still be friends, can't we?'

His mouth twisted down at the corners and he swallowed; only now did it occur to her that real hurt, not just injured pride, might already have been inflicted.

‘If that's all that's on offer,' he said.

‘You know it's for the best. I'm sure it won't be long before you meet someone your own age.'

His expression hardened again. ‘Don't patronise me, Jess!' She hated to hear that edge of contempt in his voice, felt suddenly that she deserved it and was sorry.

‘I'm not! Look, it's hard for me, too. But I'm trying to be responsible and mature about this.' She could feel a wobble beginning to threaten her own composure. ‘I'll see you then, let you get a bit more sleep, before your next shift with the ewes.' Jessica had turned to open the door.

‘I'm not working tonight. I'm going to the meeting. I was planning to get up around now anyway … have a shower, something to eat.'

There was a shower in the caravan? Where? It hardly looked big enough to house a chemical loo. She now had the door open and stepped out onto the top step.

‘I'm going too,' she said, turning back to him. ‘With my friend, Sheila. Perhaps I'll see you there later, then?'

Just then James Warwick walked around the corner of the barn. When he saw them, framed in the doorway of the caravan, Jessica apparently leaving and Danny brows drawn together, arms folded across his bare chest, watching her go, he hesitated and frowned; then he continued to walk, but rather more slowly, in their direction.

To hell with the man, Jess thought, blinking away the unexpected moisture in her eyes. Always turning up when he isn't wanted. Did he never give Danny any peace? She was damned if she was going to offer any explanation for why she was here.

‘Dan, sorry to disturb you again, but Nigel Stockley's not turned up yet and I've a problem.' He had stopped on the slope a few paces short of the caravan; his eyes were level with the half-buttoned fly of Danny's combats. ‘I'm sure he'll be here any time but if you could just help me with this awkward one … check what's going on. You've smaller hands than me. Well … how are you, Jessica?' James asked, turning on his polite, gentleman farmer persona as Danny disappeared back inside. She wondered what he made of the situation. All previous anxiety about being compromised in this man's eyes had morphed into an amused disdain for his good opinion.

‘I'm fine,' she replied coolly. ‘What's wrong with the ewe?'

‘She's already had one healthy, good-sized lamb. She's licked it clean, it's suckled, and they're bonded as far as you can tell. But the twin is taking too long.'

‘There definitely is another?'

‘Think so. She lay down again and still seemed to be in labour, but that was over an hour ago. It's her first lambing. She's inexperienced, and now it looks a bit like she's lost interest in the whole process.'

‘Pregnant females can be so inconsiderate. Just obstinately refuse to do what's expected of them. Who'd be an obstetrician?'

He gave her a narrow-eyed assessing look then glanced at his watch.

‘Actually, I'd rather not lose her,' he said. ‘Or her offspring, if it comes to that. I'm going back.'

‘Can I watch?'

His eyebrows rose. ‘I don't think –'

‘Please?'

‘Well, I suppose, if you really want to.' He could hardly have sounded less enthusiastic. Jess blurted out the request without thinking and if she'd surprised him, she'd almost equally surprised herself. His grudging permission only added to her eagerness.

‘Yes, I do.'

He looked at her hard for a moment or two.

‘Just don't get in the way,' he added tersely turning back towards the barn.