Chapter 29
Bonnie made small talk with her antique dealer friends for the next half-hour but her brain was anywhere but in the snug of the George and Dragon. Starstruck said he would come over to the Pot of Gold first thing the following morning to give Bonnie the key for the house on Rainbow Lane. This time tomorrow, she would have left her grey, cold life in Greenwood Crescent. She couldn’t think straight. It was like being blind and opening her eyes for the first time to be assaulted by the full spectrum of colours in their brightest intensity. She was actually going to do it. Leave. Whatever happened afterwards she would have to deal with.
She got into Lew’s Audi with her head spinning as much as if she’d had three glasses of wine. She was glad she hadn’t had any because she needed her brain to be clear and focused.
‘You all right?’ asked Lew, turning to her as they joined the main road. ‘You look very pale, Bonnie.’
‘Is there any chance I could come in late to work tomorrow?’ asked Bonnie. ‘A hour; two, tops.’
‘Of course.’ He didn’t pry but he wanted to.
Then Bonnie burst into tears. She hadn’t meant to, they came from a strange, agitated place within her, a lake of adrenalin filled with pockets of fear, excitement, fascination, energy; a whole gamut of emotions, all vying for supremacy.
‘Let me find somewhere to pull in,’ said Lew, concerned.
This had to be connected with what had happened in the shop between her and Charlotte, he figured. He’d hoped Bonnie had been totally convinced that she had done the right thing and had absolutely nothing to worry about, but evidently not.
Regina had not called the police; she would have made a fool of herself if she had. Lew had told Charlotte in no uncertain terms that if Regina did that, he would sever all social ties with the Sheffields and tell them why. He overheard Charlotte ringing her later, telling her to put it behind them because ‘that Pit Bull woman just wasn’t worth getting aereated about.’ Then between them they’d arranged a dinner for this weekend at Regina’s house for the six of them. Lew really didn’t want to be anywhere near the woman for now but on the other hand it would be nice to see Gemma and Jason again.
‘I’m so sorry.’ Bonnie was horrified at herself. She couldn’t stop crying, although at one point she started laughing at the ridiculousness of such an emotional explosion. I’m going mad, she thought. Maybe she had been so trapped in Stephen’s mindset of ‘being in order’ that her system couldn’t digest the many changes that would be happening to her over the next hours and her brain was trying to vomit them back out in case they poisoned her.
‘You have nothing to be sorry about. There’s a pub near here.’ Lew took a left down a country lane and pulled into the car park. Ironically – given the conversation she’d just had with Vintage Valerie – it was the Red Lion. ‘A small and friendly traditional pub’ according to the wording on an A board standing next to a cluster of alfresco wooden benches and tables.
‘Come on, let me buy you a drink,’ said Lew, getting out of the car. ‘I think, after this week, I owe you a big one anyway.’
‘You don’t . . .’ Bonnie started to protest but Lew wasn’t having it.
‘What would you like?’
Bonnie made her way to one of the outside tables. No one else was there so she had the pick of them all. Lew returned a few minutes later with half a lager for himself and a glass of Diet Coke for Bonnie.
‘I asked for a bottle because the stuff that comes out of those taps is revolting,’ said Lew, putting it down in front of her.
‘It’s more expensive though,’ said Bonnie.
‘I’ll take the difference out of your wages,’ said Lew, eyes twinkling.
‘Thank you,’ said Bonnie, hoping her eyes weren’t as red as she imagined they’d be, and that her mascara hadn’t run.
Lew sat down opposite to her and thought again how ashen Bonnie looked in black, as if the colour had sucked out her soul.
‘So . . .’ he began. ‘Look, if you’re still worried about what happened on Tues—’
Bonnie cut in. ‘That’s not why I . . .’ She took a bolstering breath. ‘I’m leaving my husband,’ she blurted out. ‘And I have to go quickly and cleanly because he . . . I . . .’
Lew leapt to the obvious conclusion. ‘Is he violent?’
‘No, no,’ Bonnie shook her head, though that slap he gave her still sat at the forefront of her mind. ‘He’s needy, sticky . . . he gets upset by change and what I’m about to do is likely to blow all his fuses.’
Lew’s brow furrowed in concern. ‘He could be unstable then, is what you’re saying?’
‘I don’t know.’ She wanted to tell him that he was stable in his unstability. He would hit the roof but at the same time he would know exactly what to do. ‘He will probably resort to emotional blackmail and tell me that I owe him and I probably do . . .’
‘You sound as if you’re paying off a debt,’ said Lew, tilting his head at her.
Bonnie swallowed hard before answering. ‘I think that’s what I have been doing.’ She took a sip of her Diet Coke and gulped it down along with the rising tears. She didn’t say it was a debt that she could never clear. Or that she might be running from a life from which there was no real escape.
‘Have you been unhappy a long time?’ said Lew, his voice gentle and Bonnie knew that if she wasn’t careful she would offload the last thirteen years into his lap. He held up his hands, palms forward. ‘I don’t mean to snoop. You have full permission to tell me to butt out.’
‘I should never have married Stephen,’ said Bonnie, looking down at the ground. An ant was scurrying along the flagstone with a crumb of something on his back.
‘So why did you?’
‘I loved him,’ said Bonnie. ‘Or at least I thought I did. He was everything I needed: kind, steady, attentive. He was in the beginning, anyway.’
She coughed away the sudden dryness in her throat and took another drink. ‘I lived with someone before Stephen. He was lovely, was Joel. We’d known each other since we were kids. He was full of life, crazy, a tour de force. But he got lows as deep as the highs were high and over the years they got worse. He was never . . . even. We were either living life at a hundred miles per hour or in slow motion. I loved him so much but it was like being on the worst sort of fairground ride. Medicines either didn’t work or drugged him senseless, until he did a trial on a new one and it balanced him more than he’d ever been. We had six beautiful months of believing that we could be a couple like anyone else. He got a job in a warehouse, nothing flash but it was a massive leap forward for us. We went walking in the park with our dog and we started planning for the future. Then the drug was suddenly pulled because it was causing an adverse reaction in some patients and he was weaned onto another one which was useless . . .’ Her voice faltered. She took a deep breath before continuing. ‘I came home from work to find him gone. There was a note on the table saying sorry, just that one word. We looked everywhere for him and I mean everywhere. A dog-walker found him hanging under a bridge near Ketherwood three weeks later. The police said he’d probably killed himself the day he left me.’
Lew didn’t know what to say. ‘I’m so sorry,’ was what fell from his lips.
‘My whole life was so focused on Joel that I hadn’t realised my dad was slipping away from me too. What we’d both put down to just daft “getting older and forgetful” stuff was far more serious and he’d kept it from me, not wanting to add to what I was going through. I walked in one day to find him putting the electric kettle on the open fire to boil it. Dad went from nought to sixty with dementia and then he stayed at sixty for years. He was a huge man and I couldn’t handle him when he started lashing out. I had to put him in a specialist care home.’ She flicked away the tears that were pumping out of her eyes. She could still hear Alma speaking to Stephen at three hundred decibels, Don’t think you’re going to stuff me in an old people’s home like she did that poor thing sat dribbling who hasn’t a clue where he is or why. ‘It was something I said I would never do to Dad, whatever happened, but I had to. That . . . that horrible disease kept him alive and fit and strong everywhere but in his head. Then my lovely dog got a tumour and I lost him too.’
‘And in the middle of all that along comes your husband?’ guessed Lew.
‘Yep.’ Bonnie gave a dry chuckle. ‘He couldn’t have timed it better if he’d tried. I dropped all my shopping in the rain and this man appeared at the side of me like a knight in shining armour. He gave me tea and sympathy and attention and he drove me up to see Dad and helped me sort out all those little things that were weighing me down, forms to fill in, Dad’s house bills to sort out, car repairs. He said we should get married then he could look after me properly. I was so drained, so grateful and he was so kind . . .’ She cringed at her own stupidity. ‘Looking back, I wasn’t in the right place to make big decisions like that. We were married so quickly I hardly had time to draw breath . . .’ She rapped on her head with her knuckles. ‘Idiot, eh?’
‘Not at all,’ said Lew, his voice soft, understanding. ‘Sounds a little as if you were manipulated.’
Was I? thought Bonnie. She hadn’t thought of it that way; she’d always blamed herself for being needy. She couldn’t even recall Stephen proposing. She just remembered him telling her to leave all the arrangements to him and he’d make sure he looked after her.
‘You’re probably wondering why I’ve stayed with him so long,’ said Bonnie, but she guessed he’d just think she was stupid.
‘It’s not hard to guess,’ said Lew, which surprised her. ‘It’s a huge task leaving a marriage when you have nowhere to go to and no energy to carry you.’
‘Dad’s nursing home took almost every penny from the sale of the house and the little savings he had, and Stephen took the rest and put it in our joint savings account that I don’t have access to,’ said Bonnie. ‘I nearly left Stephen once but—’ She stopped. She couldn’t tell him the truth of why she stayed. She couldn’t tell anyone. ‘I wasn’t quite brave enough to go through with it.’
‘It doesn’t sound like a happy marriage, Bonnie,’ Lew said, just stopping himself from placing his hand over hers, to comfort her.
‘It isn’t a marriage in any sense of the word,’ said Bonnie. ‘I didn’t even feel giddy or excited at my wedding. My dad was there and I wanted him to see me settled before he died, but he didn’t even know who I was . . .’ She’d had dreams about her wedding over the years, distorted images of everyone in black, Harry Grimshaw pulling on her hand to leave but her feet being glued to the floor, her dad drooling, Alma laughing at him and Bonnie slapping her face hard over and over again until her hands stung, but still she wouldn’t stop cackling like an old witch.
She’d presumed what she felt for Stephen was just a different sort of love from the one she’d had for Joel. When he’d been well, they’d talked about getting married and she’d been filled with joy and excitement about it all. He must have said a million times how much he loved her, yet she couldn’t remember Stephen saying it once. It was a different sort of love, all right.
‘And why now?’ asked Lew. ‘What’s finally made you decide to go through with it?’ He reached into his pocket and passed his handkerchief over. ‘Getting to be a habit, this,’ he laughed softly.
‘Thank you,’ smiled Bonnie, pressing her face into the soft material. She didn’t say that she was in love with her boss, that meeting him had wakened and warmed up her heart more than she thought possible. And that just being around him had given her the energy to risk leaving Stephen in the hope that she just might outrun the darkness that would surely follow her. Instead she answered, ‘Timing. Starstruck’s daughter has a small house for rent nearby. It’s affordable, if I’m careful with my money. He’s bringing the keys around tomorrow and I’m going to move in whilst Stephen is at work. If I tell him I’m leaving, he’ll make it awkward. I can take what I need in the car, one trip. I can have everything packed and be out of the house in an hour, max.’
‘Do you need any help?’ asked Lew.
‘No, thank you. I’m better off doing everything alone,’ replied Bonnie. She didn’t want Lew near the house. She was scared what Stephen might tell him.
‘Where’s the house you’re moving into?’ asked Lew.
‘Dodley Bottom. It’s on Rainbow Lane, next to the old
Duck Street Chapel. It’s only a tiny place but it’ll be perfect for me, I’m sure. I’m hoping I won’t be that late to work. I’ll make up any time . . .’
‘Oh don’t be silly, Bonnie,’ Lew remonstrated. ‘Why don’t you take the day off?’
‘No, I’ll need something to keep my mind occupied.’ She was adamant on that.
‘Then I’ll follow you after work and help you lift things in.’
‘No, really, you’re okay. I’d like to do it myself anyway. On my own.’
Something in her tone convinced him that she wasn’t just saying that, she really did mean it, so he relented with a nod.
‘Tell me if you change your mind, and I’ll leave it at that.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Can I ask you something, Bonnie? I don’t want you to get worried, I’m just curious. I heard that you manhandled Regina out of the shop like Bruce Lee. Is it true?’
Bonnie’s eyes snapped up to his face to find that he was wearing a lop-sided smile. She’d noticed that his ‘business-smile’ was a regular one, his lop-sided one was the genuine article. It gave his face extra handsome points.
‘Dad’s friend had a nightclub and when he was a young man he used to do a bit of doorwork for him. He was handy, my dad, and he taught me a few moves just in case I ever needed them.’
‘Ah, I see,’ said Lew, noticing that Bonnie’s cheeks had a pink flush to them. ‘You said he was a big man, didn’t you?’
‘In every way you can think of,’ said Bonnie. ‘Six foot six tall with massive shoulders. He was lovely.’ She pictured him holding her hand, walking her to school and remembered feeling proud that he was her dad. Sometimes she had to work hard to force the pictures of him in the grip of dementia from being the dominant ones in her memory album: of him going berserk in the house, smashing things in frustration, of him being an empty shell in the home, drool down his shirt. ‘If I ever get like that, shoot me, Bon,’ he’d once said when they were watching a documentary about dementia on the TV. ‘I hope to Christ I never end up like one of those poor buggers.’ And he had. Cruel, cruel disease.
‘Well, your dad did you a favour there. Though I hope you don’t come into contact with any more undesirables who need ejecting from the shop, but it’s good to know that the Pot of Gold is in very safe hands,’ grinned Lew. He was glad to see that he’d made her smile with that. She has such a beautiful smile, he thought.
Lew took Bonnie back to the Pot of Gold where her car was parked. She went home knowing that the next time she drove it, it would be away from Greenwood Crescent forever. It all felt too easy, too smooth, especially for a Sherman, who was born on the back side of the rainbow, as her dad always said.