Chapter Four
"What the heck are you doing here?"
"Oh, good. You're in." I pushed past her and dumped my suitcase in her hallway, then leaned against the wall in relief. "I was worried you wouldn't be back yet."
She seemed a bit nervous. "What do you mean? How do you know I was out?"
I tapped the screen of my phone a couple of times, then handed it to her. It was open on her Facebook page.
New hula-hoop class started in town! Exhausting but fun! Hope I can keep up!
"Oh," she said, handing the phone back to me. "Well, I got back a couple of hours ago."
"And did you keep up?" I asked.
She stared at me. "Does it matter?"
Taking that to mean no, I smirked.
She looked almost scared. "What on earth are you doing here?" she demanded again.
"I've come to stay. It's just until tomorrow, when my new accommodation is ready," I added hastily.
She opened her mouth, then closed it again. After a moment's awkward silence, she shook her head slightly. "You'd better come through to the kitchen. I'll make you a drink."
Sitting at Tamsin's table a few minutes later, sipping tea from one of her china cups, I glanced around the kitchen admiringly. It was amazing. Very contemporary, with grey units and granite worktops, and lots of stainless steel. Several large flower displays had been dotted around. Tamsin loved flowers and was always buying them. Good job I didn't suffer from hay fever. Against one wall was a huge fridge almost as big as the kitchen in my flat. Bet she stored more interesting and tasty things in there than mince, milk, and value margarine.
From the kitchen, I studied my sister. Free of makeup, she pulled her blonde hair into a ponytail. I guessed she'd showered after her hula hoop session, and hadn't yet bothered to tart herself up again. There was no way she'd have gone into town without her war-paint. The skinny jeans and ribbed top she wore showed that she hadn't an inch of spare fat on her, and even without the makeup, she was attractive, but I noticed suddenly that there was a tired expression in her eyes, and she didn't appear to be exactly glowing with health, despite the diet and exercise programme.
"Stop staring at me," she said grumpily, "and tell me what you're doing here."
"I told you. I've come to stay. You don't mind, do you?"
"Have you left Seth?" Her eyes widened. "I don't believe you. You haven't got it in you."
"Clearly, I have." I hadn't thought myself capable of it, either, but it just showed you.
"So, why have you come here?" she asked, adding hastily, "Not that I mind, of course. Just, I would have thought you'd have gone to Mum and Dad's."
"You were closer," I said, which was partly true. It was quicker and cheaper to get to York than Beverley from Oddborough, and meant just one train, rather than two.
"Even so," she said. "And what did you mean by your new accommodation?"
I smiled. "I've booked a caravan. I can move in tomorrow. So, you see, it really is just for one night."
"A caravan? In this weather? Where abouts?"
"On the moors," I said vaguely. "It's in a field on a farm. The farmer rents it out to make extra money. I've booked it for three weeks."
"You'll be freezing! You must be mad. And what are you going to do after that? Are you going back to Seth?"
I shook my head. If there was one thing I was sure about, it was that I wasn't going back to Seth.
She waited, and when I didn't give any verbal response, she reached over and took my hand. "Seriously, Cara, what's happened?"
What had happened? I supposed I'd finally realised that Seth didn't love me the way I thought he did, and that had set me free.
It occurred to me that I just wasn't the sort of person that people loved. Not unless I was doing something they wanted, behaving the way they needed me to behave. It was always conditional, and I wasn't playing that game anymore. Love and passion had led me away from who I really was. Trying to please Seth, live a life that suited him, had forced me to compromise for the last fourteen years. And it wasn't just Seth. Looking back, I could see that I'd always done the same thing.
Even as a child, I'd always been easily persuaded into doing things I would never have done in a million years by myself. Upon leaving school, I'd had no idea what to do for a living, but then I met Seth in that bookshop in Newarth, and that was that. He’d been spending the week in a holiday cottage on the moors with his family, and I was visiting Granny Reed, but within six weeks, he'd convinced me to move into his friend's grotty flat with him, just a couple of miles from the vicarage in Oddborough, and I wasted a year practically glued to Seth's side, totally besotted and happy to do whatever he wanted.
During that time, Seth grew increasingly irritated by the job centre's determination that he should find a job. Clearly, they didn't understand that he needed to be at home to write his poetry, and I’d totally sympathised with him, so I’d sought advice from them and ended up getting a placement at a nursery, going to college part-time to take my exams in childcare. From then on, I’d become the breadwinner, and for a long time, that was okay. We'd moved into a bedsit in the city centre, which was so bad I think the landlord should have paid us to live there, and after a few years, the council gave us the high-rise flat, which, initially, had seemed like heaven, because we had our own bathroom at last, if nothing else.
If the flat wasn't exactly a beautiful home, if Oddborough wasn't exactly my ideal location, if nursery nursing wasn't exactly my dream career choice, it didn't matter, because Seth was the man I loved, and so much better than I imagined I deserved.
The delusion I'd cocooned myself in became threatened when I realised he was sleeping with Gina, but somehow, I'd bottled up my feelings and stumbled through the last three years, closed off and numb. Until then.
I wasn't entirely sure what had changed. I couldn't pinpoint a moment when I'd started to feel things again. I only knew that when I did, those feelings weren't positive. And after his little speech the previous night, I'd finally realised that Seth didn't love me. He needed me. I was his protection against the world. With me in his life, he didn't have to find a job, earn money, be a grownup.
All those thoughts ran through my mind, but out loud I only said, "I'd just had enough."
"Well, about time," Tamsin said. "But how are you going to manage? What about your job?"
"I've walked out," I said, wrestling another pang of guilt. "I had no choice. If I didn't leave there and then, I might never have done it."
Jilly had been wonderful. I'd called her early that morning to tell her I wouldn't be in. That I wouldn't be in ever again. She'd been sad to hear that I was leaving, but all the same, she was glad, for my sake, that I was finally going. She'd assured me that she and the other nursery nurses would cope until they got a replacement, and wished me luck, begging me to keep in touch, which was much kinder of her than I deserved.
Tamsin stared at me, anxiety in her eyes. "He must have done something dreadful. Did he hurt you?"
"Yes," I said. "He sold the piano."
Her eyes widened, and she let go of my hand. "He sold the piano! That's it? After all you've put up with all these years, you left because he sold the piano!"
Put like that, I supposed it did sound ridiculous, but there was so much more to it that I just couldn't put into words. Especially not to someone like Tamsin. How could she, with her perfect life, ever understand?
Standing there, clutching that four-hundred pounds in my hand, it had at last been crystal clear to me that the relationship was over, and it was time to leave. I'd put the tin back, stuffed the money in my purse, and crept back to bed. The following morning, I'd got ready for work, as usual, kissed Seth goodbye, and walked out, knowing I wouldn't go back. Knowing he wouldn't shift off the sofa to see me off, it’d been easy to open the bedroom door and grab the ancient, battered suitcase that’d once belonged to my parents, which I'd packed after my shower, on my way out. Seth hadn’t noticed a single bit of it.
I hadn't got much with me, only a few essentials. The worst thing was, I'd had to leave my books behind. Maybe one day, I'd have the courage to ask him to send them to me, although, by the time that day arrived, he'd probably have sold them all. "It was just the final straw," I said. "Anyway, it's done now. That life is finished."
"But what are you going to do with yourself? What about money?"
"I've got four-hundred pounds on me. Well, minus my train fare," I said. "And Granny's five-hundred pounds is in the bank. I'll be getting my wages paid into my account in a few days." And for the first time, it would be all mine.
How would Seth manage? He would have to sort himself out, wouldn't he? The kitchen cupboards were full of tinned goods, and there was some food in the fridge—however basic. He wouldn't starve. Though, he’d be forced to go to the job centre and grow up. I was doing him a favour, I told myself. He couldn't hide away in that flat doing nothing forever.
Besides, I was pretty certain Naomi and Isolde would take care of him.
"I booked the caravan to stay in, while I figure out what to do next."
"But that's just throwing money away," she said. "And you're going to need every penny. I don't suppose your wages are very high, and they won't last long. Then what?"
I didn't want her to burst my bubble. "I'll find another job," I said. "Look, I needed to get away, and that's that. It's just for one night. I won't get in the way, I promise. Besides, it will be nice to see Alice and Robyn again. I expect they've grown."
"I'd be very worried if they hadn't," she said sarcastically, "considering it's nearly three years since you last saw them." She stood up. "I'll put fresh bedding in the spare room," she said. "Goodness knows what Brad will think of it all."
"Where is Brad?" I said, then tutted. "Sorry. Of course, he's at work. I forget that some men do that."
"Huh. Some men do nothing but that," she muttered, opening the door into the hallway. "Help yourself to something to eat. You must be hungry, and there's plenty in the fridge."
There certainly was, and most of it was stuff I'd never seen before. Lots of fancy pots with weird pasta things in them, or couscous, or rice. No value vacuum-packed ham for Tamsin, but slices of real ham, beef and chicken, and three different varieties of cheese, and proper butter, and cream. The salad drawer was packed to the brim with lettuce, baby spinach, and watercress, cherry tomatoes, cucumbers, spring onions, and all manner of salad vegetables. Free range eggs, organic milk, soya milk, and almond milk. How much milk did a small family need?
I thought about the fridge at home. I'd have been embarrassed if Tamsin had ever looked inside it.
I realised that I was hungry, which surprised me. Surely, I should’ve been pining away and unable to eat? But no, there were definite rumblings going on in my stomach, and that cheese looked really tempting, particularly since I'd spotted a granary loaf in her bread bin.
By the time Tamsin came downstairs, I was tucking into a huge doorstop of a cheese sandwich and feeling much more contented with the world.
"Surprised you have something as high calorie as cheese in the house," I said, between mouthfuls.
She wrinkled her nose. "Brad loves cheese, and the children need a certain amount of calcium, although I watch their calorie intake, of course. I never eat the stuff."
"You ought to be careful," I warned her. "Your bones could end up snapping like twigs. You could do to eat a bit more, if you ask me. You're stick thin."
"Whereas you," she said pointedly, "are getting distinctly rounded."
"It's all the cheap mince and sausages," I said cheerfully. "Not to mention the frozen steak pies that Seth loves. A pound for four in the freezer shop."
"A pound for four! What sort of steak would they contain?" She sounded horrified.
"Best not to think about it too much," I advised.
She shook her head. "It's a different world. You need to take control of your body now. You'll never attract another man if you get any fatter."
"I don't want to attract another man," I said immediately. "Bloody hell, that's the last thing I want. As far as I'm concerned, the fatter I get, the better. Keep the buggers away."
"But you don't want to be alone for the rest of your life," she said, sounding appalled.
"That's just where you're wrong," I said. "I do want to be alone for the rest of my life. In fact, that's the plan."
It really was, too. I’d never let anyone make me feel not good enough again. With only myself to please, I could never let anyone down, could I? And if I didn't let anyone down, I would never experience that sickening lurch of disappointment in myself—that God-awful feeling of failure.
I shuddered. Nope. From then on, it would be just me. True love was a lie. Relationships were a let-down, and passion was a devil that blinded you to the truth and ruined your life. I would never be in its grip again. No more Heathcliffs for me.
#
Tamsin's house had been a lot more comfortable, and it sometimes crossed my mind that maybe I should have thrown myself on her mercy and asked if I could stay there instead—if only for the central heating and the triple glazing.
Having said that, I didn't think she'd have had time for me. Alice and Robyn, it turned out, were so busy that Tamsin had no time for anything once they got home from school. They'd only been home five minutes before she’d had to rush around getting their equipment sorted for gym club. As she explained to me about their seemingly endless list of activities, I thought what spoilt little brats they sounded, then felt immediately guilty when they greeted me with excitement, obviously thrilled to see me, and seemed to see me as some super-cool auntie, whom they'd actually missed—unlike Brad, who'd rolled in from work at eight, had dinner, then disappeared into his office to ‘make calls’. He’d barely so much as grunted when Tamsin explained why I was there, and hadn't seemed to care one way, or the other, how long I was staying, which didn't surprise me, given that he didn't seem to be in the house much anyway.
No wonder Tamsin filled her days with all those exercise classes, I thought. Some marriage. In her own way, my sister had been just as much a victim of the lie of true love as I'd been. She'd just had the foresight to fall for someone with cash and ambition. If you were going to be fooled, better to be fooled in a luxury house with lots of money in the bank, than a council flat with a dodgy boiler and orange kitchen units, with no idea of where your next loaf of Cheap 'n' Low thin white sliced bread would be coming from.
The following morning, she'd very kindly driven me to the caravan, which was on a farm about three miles from Newarth, and her eyes had widened in horror when she saw it. "You can't stay here! You'll freeze to death."
I was worryingly aware that she could have been right, but I needed some time alone to think, and walk the moors, and visit Newarth, so I was willing to overlook the obvious drawbacks of my new temporary home.
"Call me," she’d said. As she’d climbed back into her Nissan Juke and shut the door, I’d thought of her heated car seats and envied her. "Keep me in the loop."
"I will," I promised, little realising that there’d be no signal and no internet access, and if I wanted to contact anyone I’d have to walk nearly as far as Newarth to do so. Not that walking to Newarth would be a hardship, but for the first few days, at least, I just wanted to hibernate.
Thankfully, Tamsin had taken me to a large supermarket near York, on our way to the caravan, and I'd stocked up on some basics, such as teabags and milk, and bread. I'd also stocked up on crisps and chocolate, much to her dismay, but I’d figured I deserved some comfort food. I'd also thrown a couple of thick paperback novels into the basket to keep me occupied, automatically hovering over the romance section of the bookshelves, until I'd realised what I was doing and snapped back to attention. No more romance for Miss Truelove! I hastily reached for the detective fiction, instead. Maybe I should change my name to Miss Marple?
After almost a week of alcoholic police inspectors, deranged serial killers, and Carroll's Caramel Choc Bloc, though, I was getting distinctly antsy. I was also wondering, for the first time in days, what was going on in the outside world. I couldn't help worrying about Seth. I hoped he was coping. Jilly had promised to call him, let him know what I'd done, as I hadn't the nerve to do it myself. I was too afraid he would talk me out of it, guilt-trip me into coming home. Jilly was made of sterner stuff, and wouldn't fall for his declarations of love for me. She'd never understood how I'd fallen for them myself.
"That's not love, Cara," she'd informed me, many times. "It's need. And there's nothing attractive about neediness in a man—or a woman, come to that."
Maybe I was doing Seth a favour, I told myself, and not for the first time. If he had to deal with life outside his little bubble, he might finally grow as a person. Who knew, having to pay the rent on the flat might even persuade him to get a job, although, thinking about it, I was pretty sure that, once he knew I was serious, he would be more likely to move in to Isolde's flat with Naomi. It was certainly big enough for three people, and Isolde would be more than happy to take care of him, no doubt.
I was curious, though, and so one day, I layered up with about three jumpers under my coat, pulled on my boots, and headed off towards Newarth.
I treated myself to a new book in the bookshop, having finished both novels already. I'd had quite enough of crime, and chose a fantasy novel instead. It was something new, and on the plus side, it was so big and heavy that, if it failed to entertain, it would make a good draft excluder. From there, I popped into the teashop and ordered a cup of tea and a toasted teacake, where I finally took out my phone to see what was happening on planet Earth.
I had about sixteen missed calls from Seth, which was a bit worrying, and three missed calls from Naomi, which was annoying, if not surprising. There was also a missed call from Mum and Dad. I had eight voicemail messages, which I dreaded listening to. However, fortified with teacake, and about to start on a cream scone, I dialled the number and waited, heart thudding.
As soon as I heard Seth's telephone number being read out, I deleted the message without listening to it. I couldn't bear it. I didn't want to be attacked by guilt.
The next four were also from him. Then there was one from Mum and Dad, saying they'd just heard from Tamsin that I'd left Seth, and they couldn't be happier, but they hoped I was okay in some caravan in the middle of nowhere, and if I needed anything, to get in touch, although they'd be flying off to Spain in a couple of days, so not to hang around for too long. The next one was from Naomi, and I deleted that, too, but there was also one from a number I didn't recognise.
It turned out to be Isolde's. She gave me a stern lecture on my disgraceful behaviour, and my inhumane treatment of Seth, and added that she would be taking care of him from then on, and she hoped that I would realise what I'd thrown away, and she thought I was extremely petty to take the piano money, which would seriously delay, if not completely derail, his chances of going into business with her.
I deleted that one, too, then turned my attention to the texts.
Tamsin had sent me a couple, saying she hoped I was okay, and if I wanted to get out of the caravan, she was sure Mum and Dad would let me live with them until I got sorted. Probably making sure I got the hint that her house was strictly off limits.
Redmond had texted me, too.
What on earth do you think you're doing, running off like that? You should have thrown him out instead. Tamsin says you've left all your possessions behind. My advice is to see a solicitor. Married, or not, you have rights. Oh, and you definitely shouldn't have left your job. Have you any idea how difficult it is for unskilled workers to find employment these days? Honestly, Cara, I do wish you'd spoken to me first. Take care. Redmond. x
Finally, there was a text from Seth. I decided to eat the cream scone first before opening it. It would take some courage to deal with his pleading, I thought.
When I finally opened the message, I realised I needn't have worried. His words didn't touch me, at all, although I did cringe at his terrible poetry.
Soft breaks the light. Hard breaks the heart.
I trudge on, feet of clay.
Night follows day.
Time has no meaning now we are apart.
Come home and give my life reason.
To leave your king was an act of treason.
The bathroom tap is dripping. What's the number of the council?
Seth, I decided, rather heartlessly, would just have to learn how to use the phonebook.