Wednesday 13th December
On the way to Rose Hill Manor: Home truths and car washes
When it comes to our visit to check out the Manor, it actually turns out that the wedding preparations have been under way there all week. So much for Rory and his assumptions that we’ll just schmooze our way in any time he chooses. It’s a measure of just how gigantic this wedding is that by Wednesday afternoon the place is apparently going to be stuffed full of suppliers shunting stuff around according to a meticulous and complex timetable. Which, when you stop and think about it, is enough to scare the bejeesus out of you. Well, out of me, at least. It obviously helps that Rory’s besties with Kip and the gang, who are overseeing the Manor weddings while Bart takes himself off to a safe distance. But it’s also a measure of Rory’s tenacity and expansive list of connections that he negotiates with everyone concerned and gets us a free pass to look around, no problem.
So I hitch a lift over to Daisy Hill Farm with Lily, who’s on her way to check on progress anyway. Which leaves me running from Lily’s little pink Fiat halfway up the farm courtyard, across to meet Rory and co in the beer-mobile. When I first clamber up into the front seat, I’m so overwhelmed by the wall of sound, the warmth of the car and the unlikely mix of baby wipes and – according to Immie, who’s seen it in the bathroom – Diesel man spray, that at first I don’t notice.
‘Green Day again?’ It’s a token protest, seeing the Manor is so close and Teddie’s in the back bouncing his fluffy cat contentedly. I’m shouting to be heard over some guy singing about Armageddon flames, of all things, and wondering if this is a prophetic sign of worse to come, when it suddenly hits me the second car seat is empty. ‘Where the heck’s Gracie?’
Rory’s tapping on the steering wheel and he doesn’t miss a beat. ‘She’s with Poppy.’ His smile is inscrutable.
I know he’s been bumped into giving up his afternoon to help me, but there’s no reason at all why Gracie can’t fit in with that too. Other than his complete disregard for his duties. Maybe it’s because he was so damned enthusiastic about meddling in my life yesterday. Or possibly it’s because I was still awake at four this morning, going through every possible scenario of me meeting Luc on the beach. But whatever the reason, my two in the afternoon wafty weariness suddenly turns to tiger wrath. I lean forward, close Green Day down to a whisper. And next thing I know, I’ve lost it.
‘Rory, when the frig are you going to stop dumping on everyone else?’ I slam my seatbelt clip into its socket with ten times the force it needs. ‘Poppy’s knackered, she’s way more pregnant than she’s admitting, and you’re still loading all your shit onto her. It’s time you damn well woke up, manned up, and stepped up to your sodding responsibilities.’
Rory stares out across the hedgerows and negotiates the turn into the lane with one hand on the steering wheel. Really? Two hands to bang along to Green Day and one hand to turn the corner? That just about sums it up.
Then he leans and turns the music up a notch and his nose twitches. ‘For your information …’ From his smirk, he’s about to talk his way out of this. ‘Gracie fell asleep on Poppy’s sofa earlier and I persuaded Poppy to join her. It’s the only way to get Poppy to rest. Otherwise Gracie would be here. Okay?’
That makes me feel slightly small. But I’m still right. ‘Fine. You’ve found an excuse for this particular half hour. But if you actually put your energy into the kids instead of putting every bit into trying to get as far away from them as possible, you all might get something out of it. You might even find you enjoyed your time with them.’ When he was useless at the start it was a bit of a laugh. But two weeks on, it’s not funny any more.
His lip curls. ‘Well, thanks again, Supernanny. No doubt you’ll be hoping to rush headlong into having a family when you throw yourself at lover boy next week.’
I’m halfway between stunned and incensed. ‘Excuse me? Where does Luc come into this?’
Rory gives a snort. ‘You’re accusing me of throwing away opportunities, but you’re about to do the same. Before you chuck away your chances of a happy life and hurl yourself into oblivion with this Mr Boring of yours for a second time … remind me, why do you want to be with him?’ He pauses, then flashes me a sideways glance. ‘And I’m not talking swanky flats and furniture here, Berry. I mean the big stuff. Because from where I’m standing, it looks like a complete waste.’
My stomach wilts. If I’d known criticising Rory about the kids was going to end up here, I’d have kept my mouth shut. And strangely enough, I spent a long time in the early hours staring out of the porthole window in the attic bedroom, watching the lights going out across the bay, trying to put my finger on exactly what I do miss about being with Luc. Let’s face it, if I’m trying to get back together with him, he’s the kind of super-organised person who is quite likely to turn around and grill me about every last reason. I’ll need to have my answers fully prepared.
I sigh, stare straight ahead at the potholed tarmac along the single track of the lane and put it out there. ‘He made me feel safe?’ When I think about everything, that’s the bit I miss most. More than the fabulous accommodation and having someone at home to come back to. More even, then being able to say I’ve got a boyfriend. Or other women’s admiring glances when we were together. Even though it’s something I got to take for granted when I saw him every day, as guys go he lived up to every tall, dark and handsome cliché. Despite the crumpling effect of work travel, he was always impeccably turned out and pretty enough to make the most of his racks of fabulous suits. I’m kicking myself for making my answer sound like a question when I should be sounding firm and certain.
Rory’s puffing out his lips as he takes that in and thinks about it. ‘No, actually, that’s wrong.’ It took a hell of a lot of frowning for him to get to that. ‘Luc makes you feel unchallenged. You interpret that undemanding void you lived in as security, but there’s a big difference.’
I stare at him indignantly. ‘And how exactly do you claim to be able to see inside my private life?’ The back of my neck is prickling. And I can’t help noticing that we’ve slowed from a crawl almost to a halt between the hedges.
Rory pulls a face. ‘It’s not rocket science, that’s what guys like him do. Excuse the cliché, but him grabbing the limelight with his dazzling career provides the perfect shadow for you to hide in. What’s worse, that’s the way he likes it.’
I give a sniff. ‘Now you sound like Immie when she goes all psychological.’
He’s completely stopped the car now and he’s hanging onto the steering wheel. ‘Fine by me. Immie’s usually spot-on with her observations. A relationship like that’s not really healthy or safe. In the long term, it’s pretty damned dysfunctional.’
If my face is puce, for once it’s because I’m angry not embarrassed. ‘That’s damning, considering you’ve never even met the man.’
He shrugs and puts his hands on his thighs. ‘I don’t need to meet him. What’s more, I’ve known you a lot longer than he has.’
I’m shaking my head. ‘You can’t claim to know me. Until last week, you hadn’t set eyes on me for years.’
The corners of his eyes crinkle as his face breaks into a grin. ‘That’s the kind of connection we have. All that time apart and I can still see right into your head, just like I could when we were young.’
If my jaw drops, it’s because he’s just reminded me he’s the biggest show off in the area. I’m not letting him get away with that. ‘Actually, if we’re talking about limelight hoggers, at school you’d do anything to get people to notice you. So how are you any different from Luc, then?’
He sounds thoughtful. ‘From what you say, with Luc it’s all about having an audience to make him feel good.’
‘What, and you don’t show off?’ Back in the day, the more the outrage, the better he liked it.
He wrinkles his nose. ‘As a teenager I admit my life was a total disaster area, with everyone enjoying ringside seats. But I swear, I’ve never been about grabbing attention. Apart from the business publicity, obviously, which is completely different.’
I have to challenge him here. ‘So that time when your dad’s brand-new car was lost at sea and it was all over the papers? You parking it on the beach and letting it float away wasn’t exactly ticking the no publicity box. So how do you explain that one? Perhaps it’s time to tell me now.’
‘I knew you were going to drag that up again.’ There’s a long groan, then he pulls in a breath. ‘I told you he deserved it. There’s a context. He’d gone off with someone else, my mum was distraught, he was doing his darnedest to avoid paying maintenance. When your dad puts a hatchet through your family, it’s bad enough. When he stamps all over it, then decides he wants nothing more to do with you, first it rips your heart out. When you finally get to the part where you’re having to sell up and move, it makes you so angry you want to find a way of hitting back at him where it hurts most. Which was exactly why I chose his new Beamer to do it.’
However much he claims things were out in the open back then, the only part of that lot that made the news was the reckless teen and the BMW getting towed back to shore. ‘Did it help at all?’ Even as I ask, I’m aching inside for that younger, wounded Rory.
He shrugs. ‘It was beyond awesome seeing the salt water swirling onto his leather seats. He got the message he was a bastard. That was enough for me.’
I’m still puzzled, though. ‘And what about the rest of the car wrecks that had your name on?’
This time his grin is broad, but very guilty. ‘One was me recreating the last scene from Harold and Maud. The one where the car goes over the cliff and you think Harold’s gone with it. Then you realise he’s actually jumped out and he’s walking off into the distance playing his guitar.’ He gives an eye-roll. ‘I was filming it, but the camera stopped running.’ That sounds about right.
‘Jeez, Rory.’ Seeing super-confident Rory cringing with embarrassment is a whole new experience for me. I’m ashamed to admit I’m enjoying it. ‘And the others?’
He’s serious again. ‘They were just a crazy, rather lonely sixteen-year-old trying to find some way to amuse himself on Friday nights to dull the pain.’ This time there’s something so desolate in his voice that my heart is squishing for him.
‘I’m sorry you had such a shit time. I can’t believe that all anyone saw was the bravado.’ However much I want to squeeze his arm, I’m resisting. If I’m thinking I’d like to pat his leg, I’m not actually admitting it, even to myself.
He gives a disgruntled snort. ‘Just because I’m a guy, doesn’t mean I don’t feel stuff.’
I ease my fingers between my thighs and the seat upholstery, and jam my legs down to keep my hands safely out of the way. ‘I know that. In some ways my little brothers were a lot softer than my sister and me. You did a great job of hiding it, though.’
He sighs. ‘You too. Except you couldn’t hide it from me. The fact we were both hurting set us apart from other people. That was why we got on so well.’
‘What?’ I’m not sure I follow him.
‘Don’t get me wrong. Other people had it tough. Poppy never had a dad and Immie’s family were mainly at the Goose and Duck or down the police station. But the two of us started off with happy family units and then they broke. My dad walked out of ours and your sister dying smashed yours to pieces. As we both know, there’s nothing quite like the pain from that kind of family fracture.’ He’s frowning now. ‘Every morning after Freya died, I’d get on that school bus and there you’d be, looking so utterly alone and miserable.’
‘Who, me?’ I remember feeling detached, but I wasn’t aware I was so pathetic.
‘It wasn’t the kind of sad you’d get from lost homework, it was more a kind of heart- wrenching desolation you get from being completely crushed inside.’ From the way he’s screwing his face up, he’s struggling to remember. ‘I had to try to brighten your day. I couldn’t not cheer you up.’
Cheer me up? ‘By teasing the living daylights out of me?’ My voice is squeaking with amazement.
‘I couldn’t think what else to do. It was just a way to make you feel better, that’s all. It was only because I cared. The same way I still care, which is why I’m helping you out with the weddings.’ He shakes his head. ‘I can’t believe you didn’t know all this before?’
And I can’t quite believe what he’s saying. Or that he’s so open, when it comes to stuff like this. ‘At least your claims of being able to see into my head are exaggerated,’ I say, as he revs the engine.
As he pulls back onto the lane, he turns to look at me again. ‘Just promise me you’ll be careful, Berry. You’re way too special to end up with the wrong guy.’
And for a split-second flash, I suddenly catch what the whole of the rest of the world see in his eyes. They’re kind of dark and deep, but unnervingly vulnerable. Both at the same time, that’s pretty unusual. The kind of cocoa colour that makes the pit of your stomach melt. If it’s on a chocolate cake, obviously. If I never got it before, it’s because I was never careless enough to properly look into them. I send a mental note to myself – definitely do not let this happen again. Hot syrup in your toes is no state to be in when you’re supposed to be getting out of the car approximately zero minutes from now and walking like a sensible person.
‘Hey, it’s the Manor. We’re here.’ I know I’m stating the obvious. Twice over. But there are some moments you can’t move on from fast enough. And this is one of them.