Torn (41 page)

He turned to look at her. ‘Is that all we are, Jess? Friends?'

She was pinned by his eyes, unable to look away, unable to think clearly. One of the bar staff came out. ‘Are you ready to order?'

Later, when the bill for their meal arrived James laid his credit card on top without glancing at the bottom line. And as they got up from the table he left a generous cash tip. There was no outward display of concern about money. Was Sheila mistaken about his financial problems? Presumably it was his wife, Serena, who'd been her source – the woman who'd been so angry with her husband she'd caused a multiple pile-up, in which she'd not only killed herself, but several other people. How did you live with something like that on your conscience? Or perhaps it wasn't on his conscience. Perhaps he didn't feel any responsibility.

They decided to walk for a bit. Outside the pub they turned towards the gates which led into the parkland of an estate. At the entrance he felt in his pocket, pulled out a pack of cigarettes, and offered it. She shook her head.

‘I don't.'

‘Neither do I.' He stopped briefly to light one. Was he joking? If anything he looked more preoccupied than teasing.

‘Gave up when I was pregnant.'

‘Same here, when Serena …'

Jessica glanced at him again but his eyes were unfocused. The glimmering, half-lit sky was deepening to an iris blue. An enlarged yellow moon was rising, stars beginning to prick the blue. As they walked his hand rested lightly on the small of her back. The fragrance of orange blossom, still scenting the air in occasional wafts, now competed with cigarette smoke. Keeping to the public footpath they walked for a while in silence down the sloping lawns, between specimen trees.

‘There is a lake,' he said, after a while. ‘It's on one of the walks through the woods. You come upon it almost by surprise, like a well-kept secret. I don't suppose I could find it in this light. Perhaps another time? Jess?' He stopped and turned to her. ‘Talk to me? What are you thinking?'

‘Sorry, I was miles away. Dreaming. A walk to the lake would be nice another time.'

‘What were you dreaming about?'

‘You don't want to know.'

‘I do. I want to be a part of your dreams, Jessica.' He dropped the cigarette and ground it to dust under his foot. Now he took hold of her shoulders and stared into her eyes as if trying to read her mind. ‘You're frowning. What is it? What's the matter?'

‘You
were
in my thoughts just then.' She rubbed her hand distractedly across her forehead. ‘But I can't explain.'

‘You can say anything to me, Jess. I won't get angry or take offence. If something's bothering you, for God's sake tell me.'

‘Nothing is clear, straightforward. There's all this … stuff … I've been trying to sort out. I don't know what's true, what to believe.'

‘Just tell me.'

‘You see Sheila has said some things.' She was aware he took a long, controlled breath. ‘About you and … your wife and … her death.'

‘Sheila Jordan? I might have known! When is that woman going to stop interfering in my life?'

‘There are two sides to every story, and she doesn't seem to be especially objective.'

The bark of laughter this released was markedly mirthless. At length he said, ‘Look, I'm the man who can answer your questions. If there is anything you want to know, why don't you ask me?'

Chapter Twenty-five

‘When Serena inherited Gore Farm we decided, together, to give up the rat race and take it on, with all its attendant difficulties. Though I later realised she never fully comprehended the full extent of the financial problems we would be facing.'

‘When you say financial problems …'

‘I'm considering renaming the farm the Millstone, or the Money Pit. Can't believe Sheila hasn't filled you in on all that as well?'

‘She's hinted. But first …'

He expelled a long breath. ‘I know. Serena.' Looking over Jessica's head to some distant point on the horizon, he said, ‘She met Sheila Jordan, I can't remember how or where, shortly after we moved here. At the time she was in the early stages of the pregnancy. They became friends, although friends is the wrong word. Their relationship grew into something far more intense, obsessive. Sheila was forever over at our place, or Serena was round there. And Sheila started to fill my wife's head with all sorts of feminist nonsense. And before you get hot under the collar, Jess, I'm being honest here. Telling it like I saw it at the time.

‘Serena was beautiful by any standard, but she wasn't intellectual. She'd never given a second thought to the ideas Sheila was introducing her to, concepts like empowerment, liberation from male domination, independence, the personal is the political! Then suddenly all I heard, day in day out, was “Sheila thinks”, “Sheila says”.'

‘I can imagine how difficult that must have been.'

‘It was claustrophobic. It felt like I didn't have one wife any more, she'd morphed into Siamese twins, or worse, like she'd been indoctrinated into some cult religion and was spouting a language I'd never heard her use. But even though it was a language I was familiar with I couldn't engage in discussion with her because she only knew the headlines, the jargon.'

‘But presumably she wanted to apply her new politics to her life?'

‘Funny really, the first of her big ideas was that we should move back to London and she would carry on modelling after Sasha was born. I never thought modelling was an approved career choice within the feminist agenda. But with hindsight perhaps she was right. Perhaps we should have gone back. If I'd cut my losses then, got back into advertising again. Who knows?'

‘You can't look at it like that.' They'd continued walking slowly down the path but now stopped at a bench and sat down.

‘Whatever. At the time I vetoed the idea of moving back. Not only was it a huge financial risk, but we'd lost our place on the property ladder. The credit crunch had kicked in and there were no guarantees either of us would be able to pick up where we'd left off, career-wise. Second big idea she came up with was that we wouldn't sell up, but she would still go back to work. I wasn't keen on that idea either. I wanted her help to keep the farm, to try to make that work somehow. But I was willing to compromise, as it seemed so important to her. London is only a couple of hours from here and I thought if she did a bit of work and was able to keep her face in circulation while Sash was little, then perhaps there'd be the possibility to do a bit more, if she wanted to, as Sasha moved into education. It would be another source of income.'

‘Imogen told me she did some jobs for mother and baby magazines.'

‘Yes. In that first year there were several jobs she did with Sasha. Everything seemed to be working well, with minimum disruption, and I was happy to admit I'd been proved wrong. But she was increasingly dissatisfied. She wanted the big prestige jobs like she used to do. Fashion shoots in exotic locations. Work like that would have involved her going away for days, perhaps even weeks on end, leaving Sasha at home. I put my foot down.'

‘You could have employed a nanny?'

‘We couldn't aff … I didn't like the idea of a stranger living with us full time. The alternative … engaging temporary staff just for when Serena was away … looked a logistical nightmare. And it would have been disruptive and confusing for Sash. We did nothing but argue about it. There seemed no middle road. It was either perpetual conflict or give in, let her have her own way. Of course that was what she expected. And if I didn't want to employ an au-pair or nanny, then
I
could take on childcare duties whenever a job came up she fancied. But I had a farm to run. There was a bit of her that never saw farming as a proper job. It hadn't been for her parents. And since having Sasha, she'd lost interest totally.'

‘Having a child is a huge sea-change for any woman. What seems important before suddenly seems trivial.'

‘You mean I was not sufficiently sensitive to her changing needs?'

‘I didn't say that.'

‘Perhaps I thought she was insensitive to mine! Her parents had run the place like an amusing hobby, but it was no longer going to get by like that. Though I showed her the figures time and again, she could never really take on board …' He paused. ‘Perhaps, because she didn't want to, why it took so much of my time and effort just to keep our heads above water.'

‘Like your analogy of the swan. Beneath the calm surface all that frantic paddling.'

He nodded. ‘Frantic is the word. And then, when Sash was about sixteen months, Imogen phoned up with the offer of a screen test from a film producer. Hers was the face he wanted for his new film. Not a commercial you understand. A full-scale feature film. He'd apparently seen her face in an ad and tracked her down to the agency. That was the story. I was suspicious. I didn't want her to do the test. But she could suddenly see her name in lights … Hollywood … the whole razzmatazz. I did some Googling and could find no mention of this guy as a so-called film producer. Not that that was clinching evidence of a con; there's a first time for every job. But he could have been some sad old pervert who wanted to make porno movies, for all I knew. Serena was adamant, though. Said I was trying to steal her future – that I didn't want to see her succeed in her own right!'

‘Is there some truth in that? Did you resent the possibility of her finding fame and fortune?'

‘The fortune bit would have been nice. But as far as I was concerned she'd already succeeded in her chosen career. She'd nothing to prove. You think I didn't want to share her with a wider public? I can't answer that. But I honestly thought she was deluding herself. She wasn't an actress. And I truly didn't want her to fail or be humiliated. What I wanted most was for her to be a mother to our child, and for her to support me in what I was doing. But in your terms that's probably being macho and domineering and selfish?'

Jessica made no response to the implied question. ‘So what happened in the end?'

‘I'll admit the tactic I used to try and stop her going lacked finesse. Perhaps I should have gone with her then I might have died as well. That would have saved me from the guilt. On the day of the screen test I said I was unable to babysit Sasha. I needed to see the vet. True. We had suspected TB in the herd … that was when we still had a dairy herd. Even so, I could have kept Sasha at home with me. I could have phoned Gilda. It was an hour's drive but she'd have come over at a pinch, if she wasn't doing anything else. But I wanted to confront Serena, make her reappraise her priorities. I wanted her to put us, me and her baby first. We had yet another blazing row. She picked up Sasha and stuffed her in the back of the car. The rest is history.' He looked up, towards the moon, which had shrunk to its normal size as it rose along its slow arc. ‘Before the crash was cleared they tracked me down through the licence plate. Serena was still trapped in the car … but they knew she was dead. They couldn't see Sasha, didn't even know she was there till they spoke to me. It seemed like hours before they got to Sasha and pulled her out with hardly a scratch. All that time I thought I was responsible for two deaths.'

Scarcely able to imagine his desolation and despair, Jess said, ‘You can't blame yourself!'

‘No?'

‘You might even have prevented Serena's death if she'd listened to you. She was an adult, Jay! Even if she was fuming when she left here, I can't believe she was still in a temper by the time she got onto the motorway. Although “killed herself in anger at unreasonable husband” is Sheila's preferred version of events. To be using her mobile on the motorway, let alone texting … while she was under-taking … with a baby in the back?' Jess shook her head. ‘It
was
her own fault.'

‘Perhaps her death was not directly my responsibility, but I will always blame myself, for …' Though Jessica didn't ask, he answered the question that must have been eloquent in her eyes. ‘… for stopping loving her.'

‘Jay … you make it sound like it was deliberate! We all make mistakes, handle situations badly; allow relationships to run out of juice. But most of us can try to limit the damage. We can wash our hands and walk away. In your case you weren't allowed to because of a bloody shitty combination of events. You carry the burden of guilt because she died. But it wasn't your fault. You've got to forgive yourself.'

He closed his eyes, then slid his arm around Jessica's shoulders and squeezed.

‘Thank you for that, even if I don't deserve it. But if you don't mind, can we drop the subject for now? I certainly hadn't planned to get into all of this tonight.'

‘You plan what we're going to talk about?' she quipped, trying to lighten the moment. He half laughed.

‘Not usually. But I'd hate you to think I've been angling for sympathy.'

‘I raised the subject.'

He stood and began to fumble in his pockets. ‘Only, there was something I wanted to …' He pulled out the cigarette pack. Two in under an hour for a man who claimed he'd given up? He blew the smoke away from her but gave her a sidelong glance. ‘Shall we start walking back?'

‘So, what is it?'

‘What is what?'

‘The something you
did
want to talk about?'

‘I … um, there has been something on my mind.' There was an eerie, double-noted screeching cry, repeated several times. ‘Tawny owl,' he said, looking up. As they continued to pace slowly back up the path he watched the darkening sky as if expecting to see the broad winged, round-headed silhouette gliding silently overhead. ‘That's the too-whit part of the call. But no too-whooing tonight? Has Dan ever told you about the fledgling tawny owl he reared when he was a kid? They're easily tamed, but Dan being Dan didn't try. Once it had got its adult feathers, he freed it. For months it came back every evening. It would fly down and perch on his arm to be fed. Owls regurgitate the indigestible part of their diet as pellets. So if you rear one you have to include fur or feathers in their diet so the mechanism has something to work on –'