The Readers of Broken Wheel Recommend (34 page)

‘… about us,' she suddenly heard. She couldn't help but meet his eyes then. ‘There is no “us”, you know that. But does this have anything to do with what happened that night?'

She blushed. ‘Of course it doesn't,' she said.

He looked hard at her, but she wasn't planning to say anything else.

‘I meant what I said. It would never work.'

She nodded.

‘You're not in love with me –' he started, and this time she interrupted him quickly.

‘No,' she said. ‘Of course I'm not.'

‘And I'm not in love with you.'

She knew that too, of course.

‘How long had you been planning on staying here?'

As long as I can
, she thought.

‘What had you been planning? Marry me, stay a couple of months 'til you got bored, send the divorce papers from Sweden?'

He seemed surprisingly angry. As though he was determined to make her see that she didn't belong here. It felt like an unnecessarily mean thing to do after something which had been nothing more than a kind gesture.

She smiled at the memory. The banner had been fantastic. She leaned against the car door, so that she could face the Square, where everyone was still enjoying themselves.
It's not as if I have anything to go back for
, she thought. It scared her more than she wanted to admit, the future. All alone again.

But she said nothing. She had no intention of revealing how little she had to go back to. Not now it was so clear he didn't want her to stay.

She shrugged. ‘All is for the best in the best of all possible worlds,' she said quietly to herself. She had always found a certain comfort in the adventures of Candide. Regardless of what ended up happening to her, Candide had already suffered worse. Perhaps that wasn't quite the result Voltaire had been hoping for, but it worked.

Tom's eyes grew cold once more. ‘For God's sake,' he said.

Excellently observed, dear philosopher, but let us take care of our garden
, she thought.

He was moving around the car to open the door for her, as if he just assumed she would leave this party only to be further lectured by him. She took a step back and shook her head as resolutely as she could. She was going nowhere.

‘Maybe it wasn't a joke,' she said. ‘But it's not so damned serious, either. It was a kind gesture, that was all. The only thing you – or I – need to do is to tell them that we're not planning on getting married. We're obviously not going to get married. You can't seriously believe that I'd expect you to? No one can force you to marry someone.'

He turned away from her and got in the car, ready to leave her there, alone and angry – and strangely thrilled about refusing to go with him.

Before he drove away he leaned over the passenger seat, rolled down the window, and said: ‘You don't know them like I do,' followed by a ‘Jesus Christ' under his breath.

And then he was gone, and she was still there, just like that. She looked at the clock. Half past nine. The party was still in full swing.

THINGS HAD BEGUN
to die down at the Square and Caroline started to relax for the first time that evening.

When she had arrived, she had almost been shocked by the number of people, the unbearable level of noise, and how impolite everyone was. She had pushed her way through the crowd, saying ‘excuse me' and then ‘
excuse
me'.

She had been very close to just turning around and leaving.

Her, at a party, to meet a man. Deep down, she knew that was the real reason she was there. She wanted to see him again. But it had been such a long time since she had believed that you could be a strong, intelligent woman and still live a normal life. Until that summer evening in '84, she had even believed that there might be men out there who appreciated strength in a woman.

It was funny, she thought, as she was jostled this way and that, trying to work out whether it was worth fighting her way forward, that she couldn't remember the man's name, but could still remember exactly how her nylon stockings had felt against her skin, the smell of fire and exhaust fumes, and how wildly her heart had been pounding when she arrived. She had forgotten the sex itself but could still recall the taste of tobacco and liquor when he kissed her, and how heavy he had been on top of her.

Get it together, Caroline
, she thought. She was here for Sara's sake. But at that moment, Josh caught sight of her and, before she had time to say anything, had made her a drink. A ludicrous pink drink which definitely wasn't alcohol-free.

She still didn't know whether she would have fled if he hadn't caught sight of her just then. Once she'd got the drink in her hand, she'd sort of just stood there, watching him handling the drink orders as if he'd spent half his life behind the bar. Despite the crowd, it had been surprisingly pleasant, until that whole proposal thing.

Now, though, the dancing had died down and people were sitting in small groups, talking about subjects which interested them. They were leaning forward over the tables to make themselves heard, touching an arm or a hand to get someone's attention or to show a hint of friendliness. Three couples were still dancing slowly and comfortably, like old friends, and every now and then a couple went outside for some fresh air. Caroline nodded understandingly. She could definitely see the need for it by this point.

She couldn't help thinking about that look in Tom's eyes. Panic or anger, she wasn't sure, but there had been something there. She could have sworn she saw him leave with Sara, but then Sara was back, acting as if nothing had happened and everything was just fine. So maybe it was.

Andy, Carl and Josh were more relaxed now, idly cleaning up and tending to the last few guests. Sara was sitting by the bar being amused by some of Grace's stories. Grace was gesturing so wildly she seemed to be in danger of falling off her stool. Caroline even contemplated joining them, when she was saved by Josh bringing two beers over to her. He touched her arm lightly and pointed to an empty table with one of the bottles.

‘Come on,' he said, guiding her over to it. He leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes. ‘What a night,' he said.

‘Are you tired?'

‘A bit,' he admitted. ‘But what a night.'

He sat up and leaned forward over the table. ‘Thanks for coming,' he said, touching her hand in an almost unconscious movement. His fingers barely grazed her skin, but she felt a sudden flutter in her chest. She swallowed and strained not to pull her hand away in panic. Instead, she slowly clenched and unclenched her hands.

‘It was nice,' she said uncertainly. But it was definitely nicer to be able just to sit down for a while, and talk in peace and quiet. She cautiously sipped her refreshingly cool beer. Not that she was going to drink the whole thing, of course.

For a while, they simply sat there quietly together, like they had done on the park bench, watching the handful of people still having a good time. One of them stumbled on the dance floor and had to be picked up by their partner; Caroline instinctively looked at Josh, and their eyes met in shared laughter. The guitarist and singer were still going, but the man behind the drums was leaning against the wall with a beer in his hand and the drumsticks resting on his lap. The woman with the violin had gone outside for some fresh air with a man from one of the farms nearby.

‘Can I give you a ride home?'

She nodded, but neither of them made any move to leave. ‘You were great this evening,' she said.

‘I had fun. Did you like your drink?'

She nodded again. A white lie couldn't hurt, after all.

When they left, Andy and Carl were tidying up in earnest. They gestured for them to go home in response to Josh's raised eyebrow.

They didn't say a word during the car ride, which somehow seemed to take much longer than normal, and yet also seemed to be over in a flash. Josh surprised her by following her right up to the door.

She hesitated before she opened it. In a way, she didn't want the evening to be over yet. And he showed no sign of being in a hurry to get back to his car.

‘Thanks for coming tonight,' he said, so quietly that she almost didn't hear him.

He leaned in towards her. She looked at him in confusion.

For a moment, she almost thought he was about to kiss her, he was so close.
Don't be stupid, Caroline
, she had time to think before he did that very thing. His lips gently touched hers and she froze.

She knew that she should go. Open the door and run. But she couldn't move.

He pulled away slightly and touched her cheek with a finger. She couldn't quite meet his eyes. ‘Look at that,' he said. ‘You aren't busy telling me I've done something wrong.'

Then he kissed her again.

YOU KNOW WHAT,
Caroline
, she said to herself,
I think you've completely lost your mind
.

She was sitting in her usual armchair in the living room with a cup of tea to calm her nerves. It wasn't working. The tea had long since gone cold. Outside, her beautiful garden was nothing but a dark shell. The flowers had wilted weeks ago and the leaves had already started to fall. Things weren't much better with her. She was a shadow of her former self: she could see her reflection in the window; pale, stony face, a hunted look in her eyes.

She had started her internal talking-to the moment she woke that morning. The previous evening hadn't been right. She should have known better than to encourage him. She was forty-four years old, for goodness' sake. A respectable Christian lady acting like a teenager in love. With a teenager. A gay teenager.

He must be at least twenty-five, she had told herself.

Is
that
your defence? Twenty-five!

Oh Lord.

Her morning had been spent sitting at the kitchen table, worrying about what people would say if they found out about Josh. They'll laugh at you if they ever do, she said repeatedly to herself until the world started spinning around her. And it was just this type of thing that people always did find out about.

That summer when she had still been young and stupid, she'd fallen for one of those handsome and adventurous men who took nothing seriously and was idolised because of it. He was two years older than her. Even in those days she'd somehow known that everyone her age saw her as too headstrong, too prim, too, well, too boring.

The man had smiled at her, told her a joke she'd barely understood – in hindsight, she was pretty sure the joke had been about her. But it had been enough to turn her head. She had known instinctively that he wouldn't be impressed by intelligence, but she had also thought that she had a choice, that she could just decide to be like everyone else instead of smart.

She had gone to a party and hidden her personality behind a new dress, some make-up, and a completely ridiculous hairstyle. She was shocked by how naive she had been. As though people would forgive intelligence just because she drank alcohol one evening, coughed her way through a cigarette and lost her virginity in the back of a Buick.

They'd returned to the party together but later that evening she'd seen him with his arm around someone else. When people saw the look on her face, the laughter started. The only thing that had happened when she tried to be normal was that she had willingly lowered her defences, happily abandoned her weapons, and been completely powerless against their laughter as a result. They'd move on to new gossip eventually, but it had been an awful summer until they did.

And here she was, again. Still stupid.

When she had heard a knock at the door just after lunch, she had known it was Josh. For a moment, she thought about not answering.

He had seemed irritatingly alert and rested, and not the least bit embarrassed. He had walked into her living room as though he belonged there. She could see him before her now: strong and self-confident and humiliatingly young and handsome. She sank deeper into the armchair, as though in an attempt to protect herself from the memory.

‘Yesterday was nice,' he said simply.

Then she had been forced to explain that yesterday had been wrong in every possible sense. He hadn't protested, hadn't demanded any kind of explanation. He just shrugged and said: ‘I just wanted to be sure you weren't hiding out here because you were afraid of seeing me.'

A mean thing to say, she thought to herself now. Of course she was hiding.

It was all Sara's fault. Before she arrived, something like this would never have happened.

She stood up and went into the kitchen to make a new cup of tea. She was much too old to be carrying on like this. She had behaved like one of those overly made-up older women who tried to flirt with young waiters; the kind of women who didn't understand that those same waiters then went home and laughed about them with their equally young girlfriends.

Or boyfriends.

It's not exactly like you have the right equipment for this, Caroline. Josh must just be having some kind of crisis about his sexuality. And now you've got yourself caught up in the middle of it. Josh belongs in Andy and Carl's world, not yours. And besides, let's be honest: the equipment you do have is old and worn out. It's beyond repair.

Not all of it, though.

Caroline!

(Well, it's true.)

Josh came back that evening.

‘Why was it wrong?' he asked before he had even stepped into the hallway.

She turned around and went into the living room. The hall was much too narrow to be alone with him there. ‘I don't want to talk about it,' she said.

He followed her. ‘It was just a kiss. Plus, I like kissing you.'

She went pale. ‘Oh Lord,' she mumbled to herself.

‘I hardly think He had anything to do with it.'