In a Class of His Own (18 page)

an onshore wind, the sun
sparkled on the water and the sheer joy of being by a raging sea made
up for any chill in the air.

Once
on top of the sea wall I was glad of Jack’s
arm. I’m not usually bothered by heights but The Cobb sea wall
curved round and sloped alarmingly to one side and it didn’t look
nearly as wide now we were actually on it. It seemed a popular thing
to do though, there were quite a few people braving the walk and I
felt a bit ashamed of my shaky legs. I clutched onto Jack as the wind
buffeted us and he put his hand on top of mine, his shoulders bowed
against the force. I took comfort in the knowledge that it would take
a hurricane to blow someone the size of Jack anywhere. I stopped, to
catch my breath and squinted in the hard metallic light, looking out
to where I could see another coastal town in the far distance.

In the
end, we
couldn’t walk to the tip of The Cobb due to the tidewater crashing
over the top. One or two people had braved it and had returned
soaking wet and smelling of the sea. Jack helped me down what he
explained were Granny’s Teeth, the set of steps from which Jane
Austen made Louisa jump. The steps were little jagged pieces of rock
perilously sticking out from the inside wall of The Cobb, leading
down to the harbour side. I was extremely glad I wasn’t attempting
the descent in a muslin frock and kid slippers and had worn my jeans
instead. Jack settled me in a little seat set into the wall and went
off to find some hot drinks. I was sheltered by two flights of steps
leading back up to the higher part of the wall and it was a relief to
be out of the March wind. I was glad to take the weight off my wobbly
legs and my chest felt tight from the exercise in the cold air. The
virus had taken more out of me than I thought.

Sucking
on a cough sweet I indulged in my favourite hobby of people watching.
Lyme was certainly popular and there was plenty of subject matter.
Holidaying families and couples strolled past in a constant stream. I
could see right across to the other end of town and to where we had
walked from. It looked a fair way and I hoped I’d have the strength
for the walk back. In the far distance I could make out a tall,
broadly built man - Jack. His brown jacket was flapping wildly in the
breeze and he had his head down, concentrating on what he was
carrying. I would recognise his long legged stride anywhere and my
heart swelled anew with love. I’d tried so hard to get over him, to
keep the relationship on the professional basis he so clearly craved
but I’d failed miserably. In terms of getting over my broken heart
I was firmly in the Special Needs category. But this wasn’t any old
crush I realised as he came nearer, this was different to anything
I’d ever felt for anyone before. I blinked away yet more
tears as he reached me.

He
handed
over a take away cup. “Hot chocolate do? I thought it might warm us
up.” He stared at me more intently.

“You
OK? Overdone it?” Taking off his jacket, he put it round my
shoulders.

I looked away from him
and concentrated on some children fishing from the safety of the
harbour slipway. I coughed and used the excuse to wipe my watering
eyes.

“Perhaps
we shouldn’t have come,” he muttered, his voice regretful. “I’m
not sure you’re well enough.”

I
shook my head vehemently and smiled at him. “Wouldn’t have missed
this for the world. It’s a lovely place.” I took a sip of
chocolate and pulled his jacket closer. The scent
of the suede, with its faint aroma of the after-shave he always wore,
mingled

exotically with the steam
from the drink. To this day, I can’t drink hot chocolate without
thinking of the day we spent together in Lyme.

Jack
gazed out into the harbour and narrowed his eyes against the light
burning up from the choppy water. “We used to come here every year
as a family.” He blew
out a breath and leaned his elbows on his knees. “I’ve spent some
of my happiest moments here.” He laughed but without humour.
“Before it all went wrong.” He frowned, obviously lost in his own
thoughts.

I held my breath and
remained silent in case I stopped him talking. Gone was the casually
friendly Jack. This man was rigid with sudden anger.

He
looked at me quickly and then back out to the harbour and began to
speak through clenched teeth. “My father drinks. Always has done.
At first it was business drinking you know, a couple of whiskies, a
bottle of wine with dinner. Then we started finding the empty bottles
hidden where he thought we wouldn’t find them. He wouldn’t accept
any help. He never has.” Jack paused and his lips twisted.
“Eventually he moved out. I was sixteen,
Jenny would have been seven. Not a good age for a little girl to lose
her father. It put an end to the seaside family holidays, that’s
for sure.” Jack laughed again, a sour note.

I
didn’t respond. I thought of the teenage Jack struggling to cope
with a distraught sister and mother. He would
feel he had to take responsibility, for the care of his family. I
knew that much about him.

“We
lost track of him after that. He had a flat for a time but that’s
gone now.” Jack’s voice took on a hollow note. It was almost
worse than the anger. “He surfaces every now and again and there’s
a family crisis.” He gave me a swift glance and then looked away
again. “That time, when there was a leak in your flat and I had to
rush off to meet Jenny and Colin? That was one of the times. I should
have gone up to Manchester on the Friday night but I wanted to be
with you. I mean, I thought I ought to see if you were settling in
all right.”

Jack sighed emptily and
stopped talking but I was selfishly hooked on the fact he’d wanted
to be with me. That was what he’d said, wasn’t it? Fervently I
wished for a rewind button.

“He’d
been thrown out of a hostel for causing some trouble and was in
casualty with hypothermia.” Jack shrugged. “He’d checked
himself out by the time we’d got there. We don’t know where he is
now. Still drinking I expect. Mum’s never been the same since.
There was no money left. Jenny went off and married the first rich
bloke who asked her and I …” He trailed off and then laughed
again bitterly, the anger returning. He leaned back against the bench
and stared at me. “Did you ever wonder why I’m so good with
drunks? I had plenty of practice growing up. I was always the one who
put him to bed to sleep it off.”

Silence.

The
wind became
fiercer. An empty lager can rattled along in front of us and the
noise gnawed at my jangled nerves. I thought back to how he’d
looked after me when I’d got so hopelessly drunk at Christmas. If
Jack had had to do the same for his father, it must have been the
last thing he’d wanted to do for me. No wonder he’d seemed so
tightly wound.

I
found my tongue. “You were so angry
with me that night, you know, the night of the gala. I thought it was
because - ”

“What?”
he snapped back.

“You
know.” I trailed off in horror at the memories my behaviour might
have brought back for him. I was appalled with myself. If only I’d
known.

“I
was angry for lots of reasons that night,” he replied shortly.
“Only one of them has to do with my father.”

“Jack
I- ” I began but didn’t finish. What could I say? To apologise
for my behaviour again? To apologise for the lousy childhood Jack’s
father had given him? I didn’t know.

A wave thundered over the
wall at the end of the harbour and sent some tourists squealing.

“I’m
sorry Nicky, here am I going on about my family’s sordid history
and you must be frozen.” He stood abruptly. “Let’s get
something to eat, shall we and then we can check on the cottage. I’m
sorry,” he repeated heavily. “I thought I could cope with coming
back but the memories just don’t want to go away. We shouldn’t
have come.”

We ate crab sandwiches in
a pub overlooking the harbour and sat in an uneasy kind of
companionable silence for a while. Jack was still tense. I could see
the muscle working in his cheek. I wished we could go back to the
easy friendship we’d built up over the last few days.

He
took
a sip of his cider and grimaced. “God, I know this is local but it
tastes like vinegar.” He took my wine glass that I offered him in
exchange and drank cautiously.

“That’s
better.” He gave me a steely look over the glass. “So, are you
happy at school? Do you think you’ll stay? You’ve done a really
good job there. Wouldn’t you like a headship one day?”

I smiled at the questions
he barked out and took some time in considering my answers. “Yes.
Yes. Thank you. Maybe.”

He frowned as he worked
out which answer went with which question. “So, you don’t want to
move schools again?” he muttered. “You wouldn’t want to move,
oh I don’t know, back to London maybe?”

I shook my head and said,
through a last mouthful of sandwich: “I’ve only just moved away
and that was hard enough. I like it where I am.” I shrugged, “I
like the school, enjoy the people I work with and it’s near to my
parents.”

Jack nodded, “I thought
you might say that.” He looked down at his plate; he’d hardly
touched his food. “I’ve accepted a job in London with the
government,” he added abruptly.

“I
know.”

This took him by
surprise. He looked at me with an eyebrow raised.

“I
overheard Annabel congratulating you,” I explained. “In the
meeting that we had on the last day of the inspection. You must be
pleased, it’s a big promotion.” Lunch was beginning to stick in
my throat. I swallowed desperately.

He
gave a sigh and moodily picked at the salad on his plate. “Trouble
is,
I don’t know if it’s what I want anymore. I just don’t know
what I want.”

“Oh.”
It was an inadequate response. Never the easiest man to read I just
couldn’t keep up with Jack’s mercurial mood changes today. I was
beginning to feel unutterably weary.

“Look,
have you finished here?” He was suddenly restless and threw his
fork down onto his plate with a clatter. He looked at his watch. “We
should to get to the cottage and then I ought to take you home.
You’re looking pale.”

I felt
pale. And confused. He’d said he’d wanted to be with
me on that Friday evening. He’d stayed with me instead of dashing
off to sort out his father. And yet he’d accepted the London job.
Perhaps it was time to ‘swan up to the guy and drag him off’? At
least I’d know one way or the other about how he felt about me. But
deep inside I knew I couldn’t do it. This man meant too much.

The
cottage was hidden up some tiny steps, just off the seafront. It was,
as Jack had said, in a bit of a state but I was too exhausted by now
to take much in. I dusted off some debris from a window seat and
collapsed upon it. I looked out, through windows bleary with sea
salt, at the passing holidaymakers.

It didn’t take Jack
long to do whatever it was that Jenny had asked of him and he soon
joined me. He traced a pattern on the dusty windows for a moment,
concentrating fiercely and then began talking in a rapid monotone.
That his voice was so controlled took no edge off the savagery of the
words.

“My
father,” he began. “My father. You might as well know the full
story. Before his drinking became really serious he had an affair
with someone at work. Or should I say he seduced someone at work.”
Jack gave me a quick, hard look. “He was managing director of an
engineering firm back in Manchester. It was an American company and
they had an absolute ban on anyone forming any sort of personal
relationship within the management team.”

He
sighed and looked down. His face was pinched with anger and
unhappiness. He shrugged, “I don’t know, maybe the strain of the
situation made Dad’s drinking worse. Who knows? By the time we
found out he wasn’t making very much sense very often. What was
worse was the girl was a trainee assigned to Dad. He was dismissed
immediately, she lost her job too. It ruined them both. It ruined my
family.” Jack’s voice rose, I’d never heard that note of
desperate bitterness from him before. “He was supposed to look
after her, train her up. He betrayed her trust Nicky. He betrayed
everyone. My mother, my sister, me. I can’t forgive him that. I
can’t ever forgive him for not having the self-control
to keep his dick in his trousers. For not doing the right thing. I
can’t forgive him for tearing my family and what was left of my
childhood apart.”

Silence.

“Jack
why are you telling me all this?” I managed eventually, into the
frigid, dusty air.

He got up and walked
restlessly back and forwards in front of me. He slammed into the
corner of the shutter and swore profusely. It seemed to bring him
back to my question.

“Why
am I telling you this?” he snorted. “Well Nicky, so that you know
what you’re dealing with. Throughout my life I’ve trained myself
to be nothing like my father. I’ve disciplined myself to be in
control, to be in charge of what I feel at all times.” He was
almost sneering, his self-loathing evident. “But all it’s meant
is that I’m no good to anyone. I can’t trust people. I can’t
open up to them. I can’t even bring myself to praise them, most of
the time.” He clutched a hand to his brow. “Why do you think I do
what I do? Because I can’t stay in one school for any length of
time and risk getting close to people. I can’t handle it, Nicky. I
can’t get close to people.”

He paused and took a deep
breath and looked up at the peeling plaster. More people passed by
outside. I heard a group of them laugh, unaware of the drama
unfolding in this sad little cottage. I could only watch one man. I
didn’t understand any of this.

Jack looked at me
straight in the eye, misery burning. “Jenny thinks I should just
come out with it. Give it a go. But I’m scared shitless, Nicky.”