Pastures New

Caroline. Despite his best intentions his thoughts still strayed back to Caroline. Enchanting, infuriating, mercurial Caroline. Why had he let himself get involved with her again? He’d known it would lead to trouble. But it had been hard letting go of the only person he’d ever really talked to about Sarah. Harder than he’d let on to anyone. It was the sympathetic way Caroline had listened when he’d first opened up to her about Sarah that blinded him to her faults in the first place. Caroline seemed to show such intuitive understanding, and when she’d cried about the day her father had left, it seemed their shared pain had given them a lasting bond. However, it hadn’t taken Ben long to realise that although Caroline did genuinely believe herself to be caring and thoughtful, in reality she was too selfish and spoilt to think too hard about anyone but herself.

To a degree, Ben didn’t blame her – her mother had remarried a rich banker, and while Caroline had never wanted for anything materially, her mother and step-father’s lack of emotional support meant she was appallingly needy. Caroline’s response, when she and Ben had split up, had been to flaunt a variety of different men in Ben’s face. To his eternal shame, the ploy had worked, and when she’d announced that she was leaving, he’d found himself back at her place on more than one occasion. He always regretted it, but Caroline just had a way of getting to him.

It had been a great relief when she’d finally gone off travelling, presuming he would follow her. But Ben had just taken up a temporary contract working in practice, and after spending too long kidding himself he was going to be a surgeon he couldn’t afford to lose time now if he was going to make partner in the next few years.

Ben had thought that would be the last he’d hear of Caroline, but a succession of emails meant he was fully apprised of her doings. He had received one this morning, which annoyingly had caused a reaction he really thought he’d got beyond by now.

She was working in a bar in California, having a great time. Too busy to write much, she said. Must dash, C U! And then a casual PS: Attached are some photos of me and Dave behind the bar. There were some jpeg attachments, and he opened them to see photo after photo of Caroline with a tall, brawny bloke who had a deep tan – presumably Dave Behind the Bar.

He knew why she’d sent them. It was to make him jealous. She had always flirted with other people when they’d been together. It was one of the many things about her that had made Ben realise he had to walk away. DBtB was probably nothing to Caroline, and she had only sent the picture to get a reaction. He hated himself for having it.

He dug furiously, trying to shake off unwanted images. He didn’t want Caroline any more. If she were here now, she would drive him mad. The trouble was that Caroline, for all her faults, her selfishness and her ego, was also bewitching and dazzling by degrees. And pathetic as he was, he couldn’t quite get her out from under his skin.

Ben vented his frustration on the ground and dug even harder, while Meg, his black Labrador, sat beside him, panting softly in the late summer heat. It was one of the hottest days of the year so far. Ben stripped off his shirt, and used it to mop his brow. He took a swig of water, and glanced, out of habit as much as anything else, towards Caroline’s garden gate. How many times had he seen her emerge from there, spade in hand, wearing her old gumboots and dressed casually in jeans and T-shirt, effortlessly managing to combine a wild sensuality with an earthy practicality? It was an image that was never far from his thoughts when he came out here.

He was about to turn back to his digging again when the garden gate opened. For a moment his heart leapt – maybe? – before his head kicked in. Caroline was unpredictable, it was true, but even she couldn’t make it back from California in under twenty-four hours. Maybe her rather useless letting agents had rented the place at last.

It wasn’t her. But it was a woman. And an attractive one at that. Her long fair curls tumbled casually over her shoulders. She was slim and wore a plain strappy summer dress and flat sandals. She had a little boy with her. It was the woman from this morning; the woman whose son he had nearly knocked over. Perhaps they were going to move in. He shook his head. He returned to his digging and dismissed them from his mind.

About ten minutes later, he became aware of a rather insistent and annoying buzzing sound. He turned round and suddenly he heard a shout of, ‘Wheee! I’m an aeroplane!’ and a small bundle came flying over, stamping on his carrots and crashing into his runner-bean frame. Meg leapt up and started barking wildly, and the bundle burst into tears.

‘Bloody hell! Can’t you control your son?’

Really! This kid had got in his way twice in one morning. His mother clearly had no authority.

‘He’s only a kid!’ The woman came flying up in a fury. She knelt down and took the bundle of child into her arms, making soothing noises.

‘Then I suggest you take better care of him!’ Ben was still cross, but also a little embarrassed that he might have overreacted.

‘And I suggest you keep your animal under control,’ the woman shouted back, pointing at Meg, who was jumping up and down, still barking excitedly. ‘Josh is terrified of dogs.’

‘If your son hadn’t been trampling over my allotment Meg wouldn’t have barked at all. This isn’t a playground!’

‘I am aware of that,’ the woman retorted in stiff tones. She looked pretty when she was cross, Ben casually thought. ‘I’m sorry that my son trampled on your allotment. He was just playing.’

‘Is he okay?’ Ben felt guilty. The little boy couldn’t be more than five.

The woman looked at him in disgust. ‘He’ll be fine, no thanks to your dog.’

They glared at each other angrily for a moment, Ben furious with her for not taking the olive branch he’d offered.

‘’I think we’ve seen quite enough of each other today. It’s all right, we won’t trouble you any further,’ she said, and walked away.

‘Good!’ retorted Ben, sticking his spade into the ground in disgust, watching her walk back towards Caroline’s house.

Just at that moment, Harry Hartswood emerged from the garden next door, pushing a wheelbarrow containing a spade, a fork and some potato sacks. Harry’s allotment was next-but-one to Ben’s, and they were old friends, their friendship forged by a shared love of growing things, an interest in history and a fascination on Ben’s part with Harry’s plethora of war stories.

‘I see you’re getting a new neighbour,’ said Ben, nodding towards Caroline’s gate.

‘So it would appear,’ said Harry. ‘I heard her telling the estate agent she wanted to take it. I thought she was rather pretty myself.’ There was a familiar twinkle in his eye.

‘She may be pretty, but she’s got a foul temper. Her horrible little son has just trampled over my allotment and she had the cheek to blame me for not keeping Meg under control. So what if she comes to live here? I won’t be getting to know her, that’s for sure.’

Amy was still fuming when she reached the garden gate. If everyone was as rude as her unknown biker, then perhaps she shouldn’t move in here. It was a shame, as in every other way it was perfect. As she went to open the door, an elderly man passed her pushing a wheelbarrow and smiled, which immediately made her feel better. On the other hand, it would be foolish to throw up such a good opportunity for the sake of one grumpy man, whom she could avoid quite easily. And Josh seemed to have quickly recovered from his trauma. Amy had to admit that she had perhaps overreacted a little herself. All the worry about Mary had made her a little edgy, and she was always overprotective as far as Josh was concerned. Mary was right about that.

She and Josh made their way back up the garden path. Mary or no Mary, her mind was made up. Smarmy Simon was just coming off the phone when she walked up to him.

‘Well?’ he said.

‘I love it,’ she replied. ‘When can we move in?’

CHAPTER TWO

‘It’s okay, it doesn’t matter, really it doesn’t.’

Pete’s words should have been reassuring to Saffron, but somehow they weren’t. She lay in the darkness, listening to his breathing and the snuffles of Ellie next to her in the baby basket, and fretted. She should be trying to sleep, but judging by the way she was leaking like an old milk cow (an unsavoury aspect to breastfeeding, which she particularly hated), Ellie was probably on the verge of waking up. Which would have put paid to any extracurricular activity anyway, even if she could have risen to the occasion.

Pete had been lovely about it, as usual, but she couldn’t help the gnawing anxiety which ate into her after yet another aborted attempt at sex. After all, that was what had done for her and Gerry in the end. And they had managed it a lot more often after Becky and Matt were born than she and Pete had done so far.

Pete’s not Gerry.

Now that was a better thought. Saffron smiled. Gerry had done her a favour really. Having dumped her for a blonde floozie, Gerry had floored Saffron completely for a while. With Becky only two and Matt a baby, life had been tough. Without the amiable and supportive friendship of Pete, whose allotment bordered hers, Saffron doubted whether she would have hung on to her sanity. She had always got on well with him, but during that dark period she came to value his steadiness and depend upon his gentle humour to lighten up her day.

Saffron hadn’t been looking for love. Her heart had been so shattered by Gerry’s infidelity she had thought she could never trust anyone again. But one day, looking across at Pete planting his runner beans, it suddenly dawned on her that love had snuck up on her when she wasn’t looking. After that, everything was simple. They moved in together and within months Pete had proposed. And when Ellie was born, Saffron’s happiness was complete. And here they were. Simple.

Saffron sighed. Things didn’t feel simple now.

She could probably count on one hand the number of times that she and Pete had made love since Ellie’s arrival. Despite Gerry’s taunts, being with Pete had proved to her that she wasn’t frigid. But now, for the first time since they’d been together, Saffron felt they were struggling. She was struggling.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to. It was just – well, she felt betrayed by her body. For a start, she had forgotten how much she hated breastfeeding. She resented the fact that her nipples, previously portals of pleasure, were now so engorged with milk, cracked and swollen that they resembled an ageing cow’s udders. Anything less sexy she couldn’t imagine.

And the rest of her body wasn’t much better. Her stomach flopped and flapped about, lined with purple veins that seemed to have arrived from nowhere. From experience she knew they would fade in time and leave faint silver lines to go with the ones she already had from Becky and Matt. But now, she felt like a beached whale.

‘It doesn’t matter what you look like,’ Pete had declared the first time she had tried and failed to seduce him after Ellie was born. ‘You’ll always be a sex goddess to me.’

But it wasn’t enough. Her libido was practically nonexistent. Somewhere between getting pregnant, giving birth and coping with those enormously painful stitches (sitting on shards of glass might have been marginally more comfortable), it had gone AWOL. And with the added complications of sleepless nights, an ex-husband who kept causing her childcare headaches, and a business partner who had scooted off halfway round the world, it was showing no sign of returning in the immediate future.

The snuffles in the Moses basket got louder, indicating that Ellie was getting ready for a full-scale roaring attack. Saffron got out of bed, determined to pre-empt events – at least one of them could have a good night’s sleep. She picked the baby up, sorted her pillows out, and plonked Ellie on her breast. She didn’t even attempt to try and read, as she used to when Becky and Matt were small. This time around she had perfected the art of breastfeeding in a semi-doze, and, despite a slight anxiety that she might drop the baby, so far it seemed to have worked.

As she sat in a state of numbed stupefaction, trying not to wince when Ellie suckled too hard, Saffron thought about how different this week was supposed to have been.

Gerry had whisked the kids off to Florida. She hadn’t been too happy about it, particularly as it meant Becky missing the first week at junior school, but at least it had given her and Pete some much-needed time together. Pete had taken a week off work, and the idea was that they would relax and enjoy their new baby without the demands of the older two. But somehow it hadn’t quite worked out like that.

For a start, thanks to Caroline’s decision to bugger off round the world earlier in the summer, the business was in a huge mess. Saffron had been relying on Caroline to cover her for at least some of the early weeks with Ellie. As it was, because of Caroline’s departure, Saffron had ended up doing some minor jobs up until a week before Ellie was born. Now, eight weeks later, she realised that clients were haemorrhaging away from them at a rate of three or four per week. Their fledgling gardening business, Green Fingers, couldn’t afford to lose customers at such a rate. And given that summer should have been a time for gaining new business, Saffron was going to have her work cut out this autumn to make up the lost ground.

Bugger Caroline! she thought grumpily, quickly followed by the thought that she should have known better. When they had first met on the gardening course they had taken together three years earlier, Saffron had been dazzled by Caroline’s enthusiasm and creativity. But then, it was easy to be taken in by Caroline. She talked the talk so well. The reality, which Saffron had only realised once they became business partners, was that although Caroline was a great saleswoman, and had a genius for planning people’s gardens, she was also incredibly lazy, and most of the work had fallen onto Saffron’s shoulders.

And then, just when Saffron needed her the most, Caroline had decided to do her moonlit flit. Something to do with a bloke, no doubt, knowing Caroline, but she hadn’t thought it necessary to furnish Saffron with the details.

So instead of lazy days in the sun with Pete and Ellie (not that there had been much sun, but still …), Saffron had spent the week poring over figures and ringing disgruntled clients, to reassure them that yes, gardens would be weeded, hedges would be trimmed and lawns would be mowed – eventually. Pete had been a great help, going out on a couple of occasions to tackle some particularly difficult jobs in between his work as a marketing manager for a computer firm, but at best his help was a sop to the real problem. There was simply too much work for Saffron alone. Added to which, Caroline might be flaky as hell, but she had a good eye for design and the clients liked her. Her loss to the business was incalculable. And even supposing Saffron was to find a new partner who matched up, she probably didn’t have the funds to pay for the help anyway.

A contented sigh indicated that Ellie had had enough. Saffron picked her up, burped her, checked her nappy and popped her back into her basket. Then she climbed back into bed and snuggled up to Pete, who cuddled reassuringly back. There would be other nights for sex. There was no point staying awake brooding on her problems – she was getting little enough sleep as it was. Maybe tomorrow everything would look different. And maybe pigs would grow wings.

‘That’s the lot then.’ The removal man poked his head round the door, where Mary and Amy were sipping a final cup of tea, sitting on the last few boxes, which Amy was planning to shove in the back of the car. Josh was running round in circles, impersonating an aeroplane, and Amy was doing her best not to let it get under her skin. She could tell Mary was thinking the same thing.

‘Right.’ Amy took a deep breath and gave a bright smile. ‘Well. See you in Suffolk then.’

The removal man nodded and left the room.

‘Come on, Josh,’ said Amy, ‘we’d best get going.’

She staggered out to the car with the remaining boxes, while Mary washed the teacups up. She’d brought her own kettle and cups, as Amy had already packed hers. Amy hadn’t wanted Mary to come over, but Mary had insisted. As Mary in full flow had the unstoppable force of an erupting volcano, Amy knew better than to try to dissuade her.

The trouble was, now it was finally time to go, last-minute doubts were beginning to creep in, and Amy didn’t want Mary witnessing her weakness. Only this morning, Amy had folded up the sheets on her bed, packed away the photo of Jamie that always sat by her bedside, and burst into tears at the thought of leaving the flat. She remembered the first night they had moved in: Jamie mucking about, insisting he carry her over the threshold.

‘But we’re not married yet,’ Amy had laughed.

‘Doesn’t matter, we’re as good as,’ was Jamie’s response, before picking her up and swinging her through into the lounge, mock-complaining all the while that she’d put on weight.

He wouldn’t be saying that now. Amy was aware of how painfully thin she had become since Jamie had died. Stick insect, he’d be calling her, if he were still here. He had welcomed the extra curves that came with Josh, but they’d all fallen away in the months since he’d gone.

And what would he make of her face? He’d always teased her about her long corkscrew curls and called her his pre-Raphaelite beauty. It was true her long fair curls could still be classed as such, but she knew there was a slightly haunted look in her face now – actually, haggard would probably be a better word for it. Would he find her beautiful any more? Amy didn’t think so. She felt pale and wan; a shadow of her former self.

Amy made her way back into the flat. The empty flat. Shorn of all its homeliness. Every last vestige of her life with Jamie had been removed. She felt as though she had ripped out its soul. And, with it, hers. Oh God, what was she doing?

Amy shut the door with a decisive bang. This was no good. Mary had spent the morning making polite conversation with barely suppressed fury. If Amy lost it now, it would give her mother-in-law the perfect opportunity to say ‘I told you so’.

Josh ran towards her. ‘Is it time to go yet?’ he said. ‘I’m bored.’

‘Yup, sweetheart, it is,’ Amy replied. ‘Have you been to the loo?’

Josh pulled a face. ‘Granny made me,’ he grumbled.

‘Well, it’s a long journey,’ said Amy. ‘Granny was right.’

Mary was ostentatiously clattering around in the kitchen. Her heels echoed on the bare floor. Amy was aware once again of the emptiness of the flat. Of the emptiness of Mary’s life now she was taking Josh out of it.

‘So, this is it.’ Mary finished what she was doing and came and stood, stiffly and formally, holding out her hand. As if they meant no more to each other than polite strangers. As if they hadn’t shared all that grief, all that heartache.

‘Yes.’ Amy swallowed. She wanted to give Mary a long hug, but the negative vibes that were bristling off Jamie’s mother gave her little choice.

‘Josh, come and say goodbye to the flat.’

Josh ran in and out of the bedrooms, the small lounge and the tiny kitchen diner.

‘Goodbye-goodbye-goodbye,’ he called, not appreciating the enormity of what he was saying before descending once more into aeroplane territory.

‘Josh, do be quiet!’ Mary snapped.

Unused to Mary telling him off, Josh stopped short and his little face puckered up with tears.

‘Was that strictly necessary?’ Amy couldn’t help but rise to her son’s defence.

‘He needed to be told,’ said Mary. ‘You’re too soft on him.’

‘And you’re being too hard.’ Amy regretted the comment as soon as it was out. Mary was a doting granny, and without her Amy wouldn’t have coped over the last two years.

‘I see,’ said Mary. ‘I was too hard all the times I cuddled him while he cried when you went out to work. I was too hard the times I took him to the doctor when you couldn’t. I’m not the one taking him away from everything he knows and loves. I wouldn’t say I was the hard one, would you?’

Amy looked at Mary aghast. ‘That’s not what I meant,’ she said shakily.

Mary shrugged her shoulders and turned to give Josh a cuddle. Josh had stopped crying now and started being an aeroplane again. Oh to have the resilience of a child, thought Amy in silent dismay. She couldn’t leave Mary like this. For Jamie’s sake, she couldn’t. A sudden memory of Jamie laughing at her one day when she had been fuming about his mother’s interference took her breath away.

‘Come on, Ames,’ he had said. ‘She means well. And we’re all she’s got. Give her a break.’

Jamie would never have wanted this.

‘Mary, I’m sorry,’ said Amy. ‘Please don’t let’s fall out.’

Mary said nothing and looked away. If Amy hadn’t known better she could have sworn that a tear trickled down Mary’s face. But Amy had never seen Mary cry. Not even at Jamie’s funeral. She was the strong silent type – whatever crying she may have done over her son, she had done it alone.

‘Please, Mary,’ said Amy. ‘For Jamie’s sake. And Josh’s. We’ve been through so much together. Don’t let’s spoil it.’

Mary turned around, her eyes glittering bright, her back ramrod-straight, and for the first time Amy caught a fleeting glimpse of the emotion she was struggling to contain.

‘Apology accepted,’ she said stiffly. ‘Now, I think it’s time you were both going.’

She shooed them out of the flat into the car as if the previous exchange hadn’t happened.

‘You will visit, won’t you?’ Amy said.

‘Of course,’ Mary replied, but there was a wariness about her. Amy doubted very much if she would come anytime soon.

‘Damn.’ Amy hunted around for her handbag.

‘What’s the matter?’

‘I think I’ve left my handbag inside. Can you just keep an eye on Josh while I go and get it?’

She ran up the path, and opened the front door to the flat. She was eager to get off now. Hanging around was only prolonging the agony. She raced into the flat and found her bag on the kitchen worktop where she had left it. Then she paused and looked around her.

Memories crowded in. Of her and Jamie putting the new kitchen in together; of Jamie coming home with a huge bouquet of flowers the day she told him she was pregnant; the strangeness of leaving the flat as two and coming back with Josh as a family … So many memories. And she was leaving them all behind. She was saying goodbye to her old life. She was saying goodbye to Jamie. A stab of guilt shot through her, and a sense of loss so overwhelming she was stunned by the force of it. Jamie was gone. It was just her and Josh now. She doubted she’d ever get used to it.

Eyes full, she turned her back on the home where she had been happy for so long, and mechanically went back to the car, saying her goodbyes while hoping that Mary couldn’t detect the tears she was trying to hide. She started the car and sped off round the corner, Josh still waving and shouting goodbye till Mary was long gone. Then she allowed the silent tears to fall.

Amy closed the door behind the last removal man. It banged shut with a horrible finality. Well, she’d done it. She and Josh were on their own, properly on their own for the first time since Jamie had died – in a new town, where they knew no one.