sUnwanted Truthst (23 page)

‘I don't think I've seen you wearing that skirt before,' said Celia as she attempted to pull a roll of fabric taller than herself from the pile in the corner.

‘No it's new, I thought it was time I bought something new – with summer coming.' Two days before, on the promise of their favourite ice creams, Jenny had dragged Lorna and Nicky in and out of the clothes stores in Brighton. When she could no longer bear their protestations, she bought a tiered cream skirt and matching cowl-necked jumper.

‘I hope you don't mind Jenny, but I need you to help me with the printing this morning. I wasn't feeling well yesterday – tail end of a cold – so I couldn't finish that order for Colefax.'

Oh no, why does she have to ask today of all days?
Jenny thought, as she searched for envelopes behind the sofa cushions.
But at least that makes it easier for me
. ‘No, that's alright Celia, but I was wondering if I worked through my lunch break, if I could leave twenty minutes earlier?'

Celia flashed Jenny a quizzical look. ‘Yes, that's fine. You'd better be careful not to get any ink on that skirt though. I'll go and find you some overalls in a minute. I think there's a pair in the garage.'

As she disappeared, Jenny thought how stupid she had been, to wear her new clothes today. What was the point? A fresh north-west wind was blowing. No one would go outside without a coat. But she couldn't have worn her usual work clothes – not today. She looked down at her legs – they would be visible below her coat, she'd have to be careful not to get smears of printing ink on her tights. She glanced up at the studio clock. Five hours to go.

Cotton wool clouds raced across the sky as she negotiated the potholes on the track that led from Celia's house. Reaching the tarmac Jenny sped along the Ditchling Road until she reached the lay-by by a dew-pond. She switched off the engine. Her stomach was churning like the tub of her washing machine. She opened the glove compartment, undid the cling-film and forced herself to eat a sausage roll. She looked towards the red tiled roofs of the farm buildings nestling in a hollow of the Downs. Jenny smiled as two lambs pranced on the ridge that surrounded the pond – their undocked tails swinging like tiny pendulums. Opening her handbag, she took out a mirror and said a silent prayer that she had not succumbed to Robert's heavy cold; that would have been a disaster.
At least I look normal this time, and it's not raining
. She examined her make-up and ran a comb through her hair, then taking a deep breath, turned the ignition.

Her palms stuck to the steering wheel as she waited for the traffic lights to change. Looking across to the green she saw a Land Rover parked outside the church. There were no other cars. Her heart fell.
That can't be Martin's – he works in a bank.
She couldn't remember seeing a Land Rover last November, but then she wouldn't have noticed if an elephant had been standing outside. The lights changed. She parked a few yards down from the Land Rover. Tightening the belt on her coat, she walked purposely across the green, her desire to see Martin again overcoming her nervousness. ‘Please let him be here, please let him be here,' she whispered.

She peered over the flint wall. A dark-haired man was bending over a grave at the bottom of the slope. ‘He's here,' she said softly, but then thought,
I can't do this. He's bound to realise I've come to see him. But if I don't, I'll always regret it.
Her heart knocked violently against her ribs. She took a deep breath, lifted the gate latch and walked into the churchyard.

‘Hello Martin,' her voice quivered as she stood behind him.

‘Hello Jenny,' he spoke her name before turning his head.

Jenny's breath came in short bursts. ‘I hope I'm not disturbing you?' she brushed back some strands of hair that had blown across her face.

‘Of course not, it's lovely to see you again.' He stood up and smiled. ‘It's my mother's birthday today, so I've brought these tulips over – they were her favourite flowers.'

‘I'm sorry about your mother,' Jenny said, looking at the headstone. ‘I should have asked you when I saw you before. The flowers are lovely – very colourful.'

‘That's alright. You were upset,' his brown eyes held hers.

‘Yes I was. I've got to decide about my parent's headstone soon. I had some spare time this afternoon, so I thought I'd come over and get some ideas.' As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she thought how he must see through them.

Martin bent down again and started clearing up the discarded paper, stems and leaves. ‘My mother told me you'd got married.'

‘Did she? How did she know? You weren't living here then.'

‘She probably heard it from Gail Simpson's cousin. They used to live next door to us, and her mother kept in touch when we moved.'

So, Gail must have told her cousin. ‘Are you married?' Jenny felt she had to ask the question, even though she knew the answer.

‘Yes, to Marilyn – we've got a son, Daniel. He'll be thirteen next week.'

Marilyn, that sounds quite glamorous,
she thought. An image of a pretty blonde-haired woman flashed before her. She disliked her already.

‘I've got two children,' Jenny added, and then realised that she had said I and not we.

‘I thought you'd probably have children.' He stood up and stared at her.

‘Everyone I knew was married by twenty-two – it seems so young now.' She looked away from his gaze.

‘A couple of my friends are divorced.'

‘Oh, are they?' Jenny reddened and remembered why she had said she was here. ‘I'd better look around, get some ideas.' She moved a few feet away, stopping by her parent's grave for a moment, and then walked up a line of earlier graves, looking at each of the headstones in turn, but conscious of Martin's eyes following her. As she reached the top headstone, he was by her shoulder. Her skin tingled.

‘Do you see that clump of celandines under the tree?' He pointed to the sycamore at the edge of the churchyard. ‘Whenever I see them I know that summer will soon be here.'

Jenny turned, her body almost touching his. ‘Yes, I love to see them too. They always look so cheerful. It's strange why so many spring flowers are yellow.'

‘It's probably to do with yellow being the brightest colour in the spectrum, helps to guide the insects for pollination.'

Jenny searched desperately for something else to say.

‘I'm starting a course next week in Lewes – Habitats and Wildlife,' she blurted out.

‘I don't remember you being interested in the countryside, but we didn't go out for long did we? And I probably had other things on my mind.' He grinned and gave Jenny the wry smile that she had always remembered.

She reached out for the top of the nearest headstone to steady herself. ‘I'd better go soon. I've got to pick the children up from a neighbour. She looks after them sometimes, when it's the school holidays.'

‘Oh, of course, I'll walk you back to your car. At least you won't have left your lights on this time.' He grinned and walked towards the bin provided by the verger for discarded tributes.

Jenny stared at his retreating figure. He was wearing a three-quarter length brown jacket over dark blue jeans. They weren't clothes that someone would wear to a job in a bank.
Perhaps he has a day off
. Having spoken and seen him once more, she couldn't bear to let him go away again. But what could she say? She cast her eyes down at the grass as he walked back towards her.

‘Have you managed to get some ideas for the stone?'

‘Yes, a few,' Jenny said, thinking that she would find it difficult to remember anything about the headstones. They walked side by side up the slope towards the path.

‘I… I was wondering if we could meet again, somewhere else. I mean, just for a coffee somewhere? We haven't had time to catch up properly. But I'd understand if you felt you couldn't,' he spoke quietly as he closed the churchyard gate behind them.

‘No, it's alright. I mean yes, I'd like to – to catch up; that would be good.' Jenny smiled, relieved at his words.

They walked the next few steps in silence while Jenny searched desperately for conversation. ‘Is that your Land Rover?'

‘Yes, it is. I've had it for a year now, since I changed my job.'

‘Changed your job? I remember you worked at a bank in Brighton.'

‘Yes, I got a transfer to a branch in Southampton,' Martin paused. ‘So, ladies first, you'd better say where and when.' He laughed nervously.

‘Well, I work three days a week, but I could meet you before my class, next Tuesday. It starts at seven, so I could meet you at six-thirty – but it's in Lewes.'
It doesn't give us very long,
Jenny thought,
but if it's a disaster, it wouldn't be too embarrassing.

‘That's fine for me. We live just outside Lewes. What about The Pelham Arms at the top of the High Street, it's opposite St. Anne's Church? That's on your way into Lewes, so you wouldn't have to go out of your way. We could still have a coffee there – or a drink – if you'd prefer?'

‘That sounds good,' Jenny said, thinking that she didn't care what she would drink. Suddenly they were standing by her car. She searched in her handbag for her keys. ‘Sorry,' she said looking up at him. ‘I can never find my keys. It's all the junk I keep in my bag.'

‘Women and their handbags,' Martin teased. Her hand trembled as she put the key in the door. He held it open for her.

‘Thank you.'

‘My dad used to have a Morris Traveller. You know the model with the wood surround. They're very reliable.'

‘Yes I've heard they are. This one's a bit old now, but I'm very fond of it,' Jenny said, wishing she could think of something more interesting to say.

‘I'll see you on Tuesday then, six-thirty at The Pelham Arms.' He closed the car door with a solid clunk. Jenny smiled and nodded at him through the window as the engine turned over. She released the handbrake and pulled away. Looking in the side mirror, she could see him standing in the road watching her. Once she was below the windmill and out of his sight, she turned into a side road, and pulled over. She relaxed and revelled in the last twenty minutes, re-living every moment. He did come today, just as she'd hoped, and she was going to see him again.

*

Since the start of the Falklands War, Robert always joined Jenny in the lounge after dinner to watch the extended news. ‘Look at those destroyers Jen. We've the best navy in the world. I can't stand Maggie, but you've got to hand it to her, she's a good leader when we need one.'

‘Well I didn't vote for her either, but she's certainly a strong woman.'

‘You look nice in that skirt and jumper. I don't remember seeing them before.'

‘Mummy bought them on Tuesday – it was so boring. She spent ages in the shops.' Nicky was on all fours pushing one of his aeroplane fleet across the carpet.

‘You didn't complain when you were eating that gi-normous ice cream sundae.' Lorna came into the room dressed completely in yellow; her favourite colour of the moment. It reminded Jenny of the celandines in the churchyard. She wondered if insects would be attracted to her.

‘We had to wait at Christine's today, ‘cos Mummy was late.' Nicky looked up at his father for masculine support.

‘It was only a few minutes,' Jenny added.

‘No it wasn't, it was ages.'

‘Don't be such a baby, Nicky.' Lorna pushed her brother over with her foot.

‘Ouch.'

‘Shut up, both of you, I'm trying to listen to the news,' Robert said.

Jenny stared at the screen, but the pictures going through her mind were of a place much closer to home. Once she had internalised the afternoon's events, a fresh worry surfaced. Supposing she was ill, or had an accident? Or he had? How would they contact each other? He didn't even know her married name. She stood up and went over to a small oak table in the corner of the room and picked up a directory. Finding the page she read, Ballard; Barnard; M.Barretti, 2, Blacksmith Cottages, Lewes Road, Ringmer, alongside his address was the number, Ringmer.3495.
I could phone him
, she thought, but supposing his wife answered – what would she say? No, she couldn't do that. She would just have to hope that nothing untoward would happen. It was only a few days away and she would have to be on her death bed not to go. She slid the directory back on the shelf under the table.

‘Jen, did you hear me? I said do you want me to leave the TV on or not?'

‘Oh sorry, no, turn it off. By the way, you know that my classes start next Tuesday, for six weeks?'

‘No, I'd forgotten. What time do you have to be there?'

‘Six-thirty, so I'll get some food ready before I go,' Jenny added, feeling that she needed to preserve their normal evening routine.

‘I'd have thought you'd have had enough of studying after finishing your course.'

‘This is different. It's not work.'

‘It's still a course. I'm just going downstairs for an hour, Jen. Then I'll come up and do the washing up.'

‘Can I come down Daddy?' Nicky jumped up, treading on the wing of one of his aeroplanes.

‘For goodness sake, what are you doing?' Jenny shouted. ‘You must be more careful, look you've broken it.' Nicky's face crumpled.

‘Jen, that was a bit harsh. I'm sure it can be mended, if not, it will teach him to be more careful. Won't it son? Come on, no tears.'

*

The recent shower glistened on the tarmac, as the early evening sun broke through the clouds. Jenny's stomach knotted.

Stopping at the traffic lights by the prison she could see the terraced house where they had lived before moving to Brighton. She looked away, not wanting anything to disturb her thoughts. She parked just beyond St. Anne's church and checked her watch, six-twenty-five. There was no sign of Martin's Land Rover. She opened her bag and squirted some perfume in the hollow of her neck and on the inside of her wrists. Swallowing hard, she locked her car and walked slowly up the hill towards the white washed public house. A westerly wind ruffled her skirt from under her three-quarter length coat.
Suppose he isn't here?
she thought, at least she wouldn't have to feel like a teenager on a first date. No – she wanted him to be here.