sUnwanted Truthst (25 page)

‘ Jenny's happiness spilled over to her family. Every evening she would greet Robert with a kiss, instead of being a passive recipient of his affection. She took an interest in Lorna's enthusiasm for all things horsey and was able to recite each stage of saddling up.

She promised Nicky that they would have a day trip to Duxford in the summer holiday to see Concorde. She didn't analyse her happiness. She was seeing Martin again, and that was enough.

‘You're looking really different lately,' Robert remarked, one day in May. ‘Blooming, in fact, it must be all those talks about wild flowers.' He laughed out loud at his joke, and Jenny smiled. She knew that in anyone else's eyes it was wrong to continue to see Martin, but rationalised that she had known him before Robert and so that made it alright.
Anyway,
she thought,
is anyone strong enough to weigh morality against happiness and choose the former?

On the fourth evening of Jenny's classes, they sat opposite each other at the end of the saloon bar. Concealed behind her smiles, Jenny wrestled with the question – what would happen now?

‘It's my last class tonight,' Jenny said, a few minutes after arriving, not able to hide her thoughts any longer.

‘I know,' Martin stared at her, his face suddenly solemn. ‘Jenny, you have enjoyed meeting up, haven't you? Because I have.'

How could he ask that? Can't he see how happy I am.
‘Of course I have.'

‘It will be very hard not to see you again,' he said, still staring at her.

‘It doesn't have to be our last meeting,' Jenny said, remembering she had told Robert that there were six classes, not four. ‘We could still meet up, next Tuesday?' Time was suspended while she waited for his reply.

‘I couldn't ask you that, you understand why, don't you?'

‘Because I'm married?'

Martin nodded. ‘It had to come from you, to be what you wanted.' He placed his hand over hers.

‘But you're married too.'

‘I know, but it still had to come from you.'

The warmth from his hand diffused throughout her body. She didn't want him to take his hand away.

‘I'd love to show you around the Country Park – it would be like a postscript to your classes – a field trip.' He laughed, the skin around his eyes puckering. ‘I could meet you there. It's quite a way for you to drive, though – from Brighton. We could meet somewhere closer, if you'd rather.' He removed his hand, but the warmth remained.

‘No, I'd love to see the Country Park.'

*

‘Mummy, I feel really ill.' Lorna's shaky voice carried down the stairs and into the kitchen.

‘I'll come up,' Jenny sighed, as she dried her hands.

‘My throat's really, really sore.' Lorna's white face looked up from the pillow as she twisted a strand of light brown hair around her index finger. Her resemblance to Robert made Jenny think that she was ill to thwart her.

‘Did you take the paracetamol tablet I left you?' asked Jenny.

‘Yes.'

Jenny looked at the alarm clock. ‘Ten fifteen – I better give Dr Mason a ring. It's best if he takes a look at you. Then I'll go down to the chemist for some more blackcurrant drink – there's not much left in that bottle.'

‘I really, really wanted to go to school today. There's a teacher coming from Varndean to talk to us.'

‘It can't be helped, can it? You'll hear all about it from Emma and Sarah when you go back. Would you like anything else from the shops?'

‘Could you get me a magazine, anything except
Jackie
; I've already read this week's.'

‘Alright, but try and go back to sleep. I'll be as quick as I can.'

‘Don't be long, will you?' Lorna called after her.

‘I'll have to phone the doctor first.'

As Jenny went downstairs, she thought, and not for the first time, why no one ever warned them how often children are ill. People are compelled to speak about sleepless nights, toddlers' tantrums and teenage angst, but there was a conspiracy of silence about the endless rounds of colds, sore throats, sickness and diarrhoea.
Children are virus factories,
she decided.
It wouldn't be so bad if we didn't end up getting them as well. At least it's better now than when they were younger. I'd better phone work first.

‘I'm sorry Celia, but Lorna's not well. I can't come over today. I can come on Thursday instead, if that's alright. No, I can't tomorrow – Lorna won't be well enough for school. I'm sorry to mess you about Celia. I'll see you Thursday then.' Jenny replaced the receiver thinking that even if Lorna was better by tomorrow, which was unlikely, the last thing she wanted to do was to go to work. She wanted to be free all day to linger on her evening with Martin. The anticipation was as delicious as their meetings. ‘The surgery next,' she muttered, picking up the phone again.

Jenny tiptoed into Lorna's room. Her daughter lay asleep on her side, breathing noisily. Her eyes were caught by a poster above the dressing table. A group of four blond, seemingly acne free, teenage boys were leaping into the air. She didn't remember seeing it before. She was sure that a picture of a galloping black horse had been on that wall a few days earlier. She placed the bottle and magazine on the bedside table and crept out of the room. Ignoring the bowl of unwashed breakfast plates, she made herself a coffee, took it into the lounge and stood staring out of the bay window. She was deceiving Robert, and he hadn't done anything to deserve it. She remembered he always came home in the early hours after his office Christmas party, but she knew if anything sexual had occurred, it wasn't serious enough to worry about. Perhaps she should tell him that she had met Martin again. Nothing had happened between them. She could say that he was just a friend. Was that possible? She could say she had bumped into him before her class. She needn't say anything about the churchyard. Perhaps Martin and Marilyn could become friends of them both. Then she could see him without any secrecy. She imagined them visiting each other's houses; long conversations over three course meals. But he would be with her. She would have to watch him walk away with her; and he would see her with Robert. No, he wasn't just a friend. Why do we say ‘just a friend' anyway? She thought of her friends – they were important to her, not
just
anything. Could she greet Martin with a cheery peck on the cheek and casually wave him goodbye? No – it would be too painful. She didn't even like him mentioning his wife's name. She wanted him.

Jenny forced her thoughts back to Lorna. She was growing up. Her deception about Martin reminded her of a conversation she had had with Robert the other day, as they had driven home from the cinema.

‘Now that Mum and Dad have died, I've been wondering if I ought to tell Lorna and Nicky that I was adopted. What do you think?'

‘Why on earth would you want to do that?' Robert had said, not taking his eyes from the road ahead.

‘Well, it was a terrible shock when I discovered the truth. If I don't say anything to Lorna and Nicky, I'm just doing the same to the next generation, perpetuating a lie. I would never have said anything to them while Mum and Dad were alive. But now they're gone…'

‘But it's different, Jen. They're not adopted. They don't need to know, and anyway would you have been any happier for knowing? You might have worried about it, if they had told you.'

‘I suppose I might have. Anyway, I don't think I can tell them right out of the blue, that Mum and Dad weren't their real grandparents. But they were their real grandparents, just as Maggie and Reggie are. In fact, thinking about it, it's only your mother who is a blood grandparent.'
And I can't stand her,
Jenny thought. ‘No, you're right. They don't need to know – it might spoil their memories.'

‘Mmm,' Robert had nodded, still staring straight ahead. Jenny remembered her mother giving her the same reasons for not saying anything.
If we don't tell the truth at the beginning of a relationship, the more difficult it becomes to tell it at all,
she thought. For the first time Jenny understood why her mother had not been able to tell her the truth.

*

The dark mass of Friston Forest lay below the horizon. In the valley below lay the sluggish meanders of the Cuckmere. Straining her eyes Jenny saw the dark green shape of a Land Rover – like a Dinky car – in the car park beyond the riverbank. He said he would wait for her there. Excitement mixed with fear gripped her as she coasted down the steep hill, and clattered over the wooden bridge.

‘Hello Jenny,' Martin said jumping down from the Land Rover. A pair of binoculars bounced against his brown shirt.

‘Hi,' she tried to sound casual as she faced him.

‘I hope it hasn't taken you too long to get here?'

‘No, it was an easy drive,' she said shakily.

‘I thought we might drive down to the estuary. It's a bit too far to walk there and back.'

‘That sounds good,' Jenny said, reaching back into her car for a jacket. ‘I'll probably need this. It's still cold in the evening.'

‘Yes, summer hasn't arrived just yet.'

She felt his eyes on her as she locked the car door.

‘I haven't seen you in trousers before, they suit you.'

Jenny reddened, remembering how long she had spent in front of her bedroom mirror trying to decide which pair of her three casual trousers would flatter her figure the most.

They clambered into the Land Rover and turned to each other and smiled; silently reassuring the other that there was no need for words. He reversed out of the car park onto a concrete road that edged the downland.

‘I've been looking forward to this evening,' she said.

‘So have I.' He turned and held her eyes. ‘I hope it wasn't difficult for you, coming here?'

She knew he wasn't referring to the traffic. ‘No, no it was fine.' She had left Lorna in bed still recovering from tonsillitis, and on the threat of withdrawing his pocket money, told Nicky not to answer the phone or the door, until his father came home.

A pothole in the road surface caused her to lurch towards him. Their shoulders touched. She pulled away.

‘Sorry, it's a bit of a bone-shaker,' he said. ‘So, what have you learnt about the estuary?'

‘That it's famous for its ox-bows, and important for migratory and wading birds.'

‘Yes it is. There's a bird ringing station a couple of miles away.'

At the end of the road a rough track led across the salt marsh. Martin drove until they arrived at a bank of shingle that stretched from the east side of the river to where the Seventh Sister cliff bent low and touched the pebbles with white chalk.

‘Have you been down here before?'

‘Not right down to the estuary. A couple of years ago we walked over Seaford Head to the coastguard cottages. There's a fantastic view from the top. I remember we took some photos.'

They stepped down and walked side by side, their feet sinking into the shingle. Apart from a fisherman casting his line into the sea, there was no one else around. A sharp breeze blew their hair back from their faces. Jenny realised that she had left her jacket behind. At the edge of the salt marsh Martin bent down. Jenny stared at the back of his head. She reached out to touch him, but inches from his head pulled her hand back.

‘This is Glasswort. See how it has these fleshy leaves?' He stood up, standing inches away from her and passed her the plant.

‘I remember Andrew saying that's how they adapt to the salty conditions.' She put the stem in the pocket of her trousers and looked away. ‘I think there's a heron over there. I knew I should have brought my binoculars,' she laughed nervously.

‘What's mine is yours,' he said with a sardonic smile, and looping the strap over his head passed her a pair. ‘It's a bit exposed here. You're not cold are you?'

‘Yes, a bit, I left my jacket in the Land Rover.' She raised the binoculars to her eyes.

‘Here, have mine,' he took off his jacket. She tingled as she felt his hands adjusting his jacket around her. ‘That's better isn't it?' His hands lingered on her shoulders. She continued to look through the binoculars, and then turned to face him. He looked away quickly. ‘We'd better get back to the car. We can watch from there.'

They sat and stared at the sea through the smeared windscreen.

Martin spoke first. ‘How's Lorna and Nicky?'

‘They're fine, Lorna's getting excited about changing schools in September. How's Daniel?'

‘Fine, he goes to Scouts on Tuesday evenings. Are you warmer now?'

‘Yes.' Jenny searched desperately for something else to say, but his presence drove out words.

‘I saw a long-eared owl here the other day – over the marsh. I think there's a pair nesting in Friston Forest. That's unusual for around here. If we're lucky we might see it.'

‘I saw a barn owl once, it looked like a ghost.'

‘Yes, they do,' he chuckled. ‘They're much rarer now. Not many old barns left; they're all being converted into houses. I think it's a mad idea. Apart from destroying valuable habitat, they must be freezing in winter, and cost a fortune to heat.'

‘I suppose people who can afford to convert them, can afford to heat them.'

‘Hmm.'

‘I can tell that you really love your work,' Jenny turned to face him.

‘Yes, I do, I'm very lucky.' He held her eyes, until she was forced to look away. ‘If we drive back slowly we can keep a look out for the owl. I could make you a drink when we get back, if you'd like? I've got an office at the visitor's centre. That's if you don't have to rush back.'

‘No, no, I don't.'

*

‘Well we didn't see any owls – or ghosts, did we?' Martin laughed as he unlocked the wooden door to the centre. ‘Mind you, it's probably a bit early for ghosts. This used to be a barn, until it was converted to the visitor's centre.'

‘I think Lorna and Nicky came here once with the school.'

‘They probably did. We get lots of school parties here. I'm supposed to say that I enjoy showing the kids around, but I don't. I like some children individually, but en masse they're a different matter.' Jenny wondered if he would like Lorna and Nicky. She didn't like them herself sometimes. She followed him to the rear of the centre. ‘Here we are – enter,' he gave a low sweep with his right hand. ‘This is where I spend quite a few hours each week, too many sometimes.' Jenny walked into a small square room. ‘Sit down and make yourself at home – tea or coffee?'

‘Coffee would be good.' He disappeared into an adjoining room. Jenny could hear him whistling as she looked around. Files covered an old wooden desk, while on a dusty windowsill stood an even dustier spider plant, its many off-shoots dangling to the floor. The walls were covered with posters.