Chapter 39
39
Finn left his dad’s about eleven, although both his father and Dorinda had pressed him to stay longer. But, much as they made him welcome, he still felt as though he were playing gooseberry – and an uninvited gooseberry at that. He kissed them both goodbye and promised he’d drive up and see them again soon.
Before he left Nottingham, Finn phoned Shona, deciding the least he could do was to reassure her his father was not, as she’d feared, at death’s door.
‘Pop in if you’ve got time, Finn. Stewart would love to see you.’
‘And Andy?’
‘He won’t be back until three.’
Even so, now he was here, Finn hesitated outside the familiar front door, not at all sure he wanted to re-awaken painful memories that he’d managed to put out of his mind. He’d brought four framed sketches of the animals at Duck Pond Rescue, a present for Stewart, and now he clutched the gift-wrapped package and rang the doorbell.
‘Hi, Finn.’ Shona stood there for a moment, her blue eyes anxious. Then she flicked back her blonde hair a little self- consciously and smiled at him. ‘Come in. I’m so glad your dad’s all right. Sneaky old bugger, shacking up with a woman at his age and not saying a word about it.’
‘Perhaps he thought no one would approve.’ It felt odd being back in the familiar narrow hallway with its bare banisters and brown patterned wallpaper. It still all looked exactly the same, but changed somehow. It took him a few moments to realise the change was in himself. He was seeing it all through different eyes.
‘Stewart,’ Shona called up the stairs. ‘Come and see who’s here.’
A fair head appeared over the banisters. ‘Finn!’ Stewart came tearing down the stairs. At least there was no doubting his welcome.
‘You haven’t been to see me for ages. Why not?’
‘I’ve been working a long way away,’ Finn said, aware of Shona’s anxious glance. ‘It’s a great place, it’s a rescue centre for unwanted animals.’
‘Like the ones on TV?’
‘Just like those.’ He handed Stewart the oblong package.
Finn and Shona watched as he ripped off the wrapping paper and studied each sketch, his head on one side. ‘Are these all the animals that no one wants?’
‘A few of them.’
‘But they’ll get good homes in the end? Families who’ll look after them.’
‘With a bit of luck. Yes.’
‘We’re a family again now, aren’t we, Mum?’ Stewart looked at his mother for confirmation, and she shifted in her chair. ‘Yes, love, we are.’
‘I’m glad. And I hear you’ve been looking after my dad too.’
‘We’ve been fishing lots. I normally catch more than he does. He coughs so loudly he frightens all the fish away.’
‘Does he now?’
‘It’s nice to see you, Finn.’ Shona looked at him over her son’s head. ‘I’ll make us a cuppa.’
He sat at the kitchen table, feeling out of place. ‘And Andy’s still all right, is he…?’
‘He’s still not drinking. He hasn’t got a job, mind, no change there.’
‘But you’re managing OK?’
‘Course.’
She looked happy. It didn’t matter to her that Andy wasn’t working. He could have done whatever he liked, with the possible exception of drinking, and she’d still have loved him. It shone out of her face. Finn realised he really was glad she was happy. She’d never felt about him the way she felt about Andy. He sipped his tea, surprised this didn’t hurt.
‘Will you stay in Wiltshire now then, Finn?’
‘For a while longer, yes. Jade might not be able to afford me forever. It was meant to be a temporary arrangement.’
‘She sounded nice. I suppose you’d have to be to run a place like that.’
‘Yes, she is nice.’
Shona looked as though she’d have liked to say something else, but thought better of it. He refused a second cup of tea, anxious not to outstay his welcome, and not ready to meet Andy. He hugged Stewart goodbye and at the door he pecked Shona’s cheek.
‘Take care of yourself.’
‘You too, Finn.’
‘Thanks again for keeping an eye on Dad.’
‘Obviously not a close enough one.’ She laughed. ‘I’m sorry I dragged you up here under false pretences.’
‘I’m glad you did. ’
For a lot of reasons, he thought as he drove away. Not so long ago he’d thought he loved Shona, but now he knew he’d never felt the same about her as he felt about Jade. It was a revelation.
He wanted to get back and talk to Jade. Get everything sorted out between them. After their meal at the pub the previous evening, he and his father had talked long into the night. Something that was almost unheard of in the McTaggart family, especially when the talk was about relationships.
He didn’t know what sort of spell Dorinda had woven over his ‘oh so reserved’ old man, but as well as persuading him to give up smoking, which Finn had been trying to do for years, Ray seemed more open than Finn had ever seen him.
‘I think you should stop mucking about, Finn, and tell Jade how you feel. Life’s too short to faff about waiting for the right moment. She’s a nice lassie. She’s not going to hold some ancient misdemeanour against you.’
Finn desperately hoped his father was right. At least he’d got one thing clear in his mind. Being away from Jade had made him realise just how strong his feelings were. He couldn’t stop thinking about the night they’d spent together. The way she’d been with him, so giving, so honest and uninhibited. But it wasn’t just a physical thing; he knew that now. Seeing Shona had confirmed it. His feelings for Jade ran much deeper than that. He loved her and he’d never felt like this in his life.
To his intense relief, the unaccustomed exercise Dorinda had mentioned his father was taking had turned out to be long walks. She’d persuaded Ray to join her rambling club and Finn had met several members when they’d gone to the Cock and Bottle. Not that Finn was against his father having a few wild nights of passion, but he wasn’t sure if Ray’s heart was up to it.
All in all, it had been a weekend full of shocks. Starting with Dorinda and ending with the realisation he was in love with Jade. And, in between, Ray’s U-turn when it came to discussing matters of the heart. Finn wished now that he’d taken more advantage of it and asked Ray about his mother.
He’d been six years old when she’d walked out on them. It had been an ordinary Friday evening. He’d just gone to bed and she’d come up to tuck him in as she always did. He had a vivid memory of her leaning over him, her blonde hair tickling his face and her eyelashes all black and spidery. She’d stroked his forehead with a slender white hand, her fingers soft. Then she’d hugged him so tight he was half suffocated with her scent.
‘Night, baby.’
‘Night, Mum.’
Usually she turned out the light, but that evening she didn’t. She just stood there looking down at him. Then she brushed something from her face and he realised she was crying. He’d never seen her cry before. For a moment he’d been so surprised he hadn’t been able to speak. Then he’d said, his voice hesitant, ‘What’s the matter, Mum?’
‘Nothing, poppet. I got something in my eye downstairs, that’s all. Nothing for you to worry about.’
‘Can’t you get it out?’
‘Yes, I expect I’ll get it out in a minute. I just wanted to catch you before you fell asleep.’
He’d nodded, only partly reassured. ‘Maybe Dad can help you get it out.’
‘Maybe.’
In the morning, when he got up for breakfast, she was gone.
‘She’s staying with a friend for a few days,’ Ray had told him. ‘Nothing for you to worry about.’
‘Did she get that thing out of her eye?’
His father looked at him, but Finn could tell he wasn’t really listening. His father never said much anyway .
Finn couldn’t remember how much time had gone by before he’d realised she wasn’t coming back. Time had blurred in his mind. The one thing he could remember was that about the same time he’d read a fairy tale at school in which a beautiful princess got a piece of glass in her eye and it made her see the world differently. For a long time, he’d wondered if that was what had happened to his mother. She was a bit like a beautiful princess, but no one seemed to want to tell him. No one seemed to want to talk about his mother at all.
It wasn’t until years later that he’d pieced together what had happened. There’d been a big age gap between his parents. Eleven years. The general consensus amongst his aunts, who weren’t proper aunts but various neighbours who’d rallied around his father, was that poor Bridie had been too young to cope with the responsibility of having a child. She was still so much a child herself and had fled back to Ireland to her family, who’d never approved of her relationship with Ray anyway. This disclosure, which was said kindly and designed to make him feel better, had only made him feel more strongly that it was somehow his fault. If he hadn’t been around, she’d never have left. If he could have somehow helped her to get that piece of glass from her eye that night, then maybe things would have been different.
A long time later he’d discovered his parents had never actually been married.
‘She never wanted to marry me, lad,’ his dad had said one drunken Christmas when Finn had been about fifteen. ‘Her family never approved of me. Far too old – and the wrong religion. She never told them about you. She didn’t dare.’
It explained why he’d never seen her again. And why his father had never tried to track her down.
‘There’d have been no point. The family would have closed ranks if I’d gone over there. Anyway, I still had you.’
‘But didn’t you still love her, Dad?’
His father hadn’t answered this. Even full of Christmas whisky, he hadn’t been able to bring himself to talk about such things. He’d never married or lived with anyone else, although Finn did remember there being a few women around in his childhood. Some of them were kind to him, some indifferent. Finn didn’t dare let himself like any of them too much in case they went away, like his mother had done.
He’d grown up craving the security he was sure love must bring, but not sure how to go about finding it, or even if he’d recognise it when it appeared. He never had any problems attracting girls, but as soon as they dropped hints about taking things further, he backed off. And it had been like this until now, he reflected as he drove past the ‘Welcome to Wiltshire’ sign. Jade had got inside his head, and inside his heart, too. Before he’d met her, he hadn’t really known what love was.
At sunset, he stopped the car on the boundaries of Jade’s land and got out, reluctant to finish his journey. What if she didn’t feel the same? What if his father was wrong and he just ended up pushing her away from him by rushing her? Coward, he berated himself.
Dusk was stealing over the fields and he watched bats swooping out of the line of trees that bordered Duck Pond Rescue. He imagined Jade in the cottage, sitting in the little back room, going through the reams of paperwork she always seemed to have. Or maybe she’d gone out somewhere with Aiden, whom she’d obviously forgiven. No doubt the vet would have taken full advantage of his absence. His stomach churned at the thought. What on earth was the matter with him? He didn’t even know if Aiden still had designs on Jade. He’d certainly seemed genuinely apologetic about hitting him. Much more bothered about it than Finn had been. Anyway, Jade rarely went out on Sundays.
Eventually, when the darkness had grown so deep the trees were just a blurred outline in front of his tired eyes, and the bats were just passing shadows, no more substantial, he decided, than his fears that Jade might not feel the same as he did, he got back in his car and drove the last few hundred yards. The gates were locked so he parked the car outside, got his bag from the back and, feeling oddly nervous, he let himself into the cottage.
Mickey came to greet him, but there was no one else about. Jade must be out somewhere.
He went into the lounge and sat in the armchair where he’d sat so many nights talking to Jade. Even though she wasn’t there, the room didn’t feel empty, but full of her presence. It was very peaceful. At his father’s he’d had to get used to the traffic sounds all over again. He’d been surprised how difficult it had been to adjust to the constant buzz that was Nottingham. He closed his eyes, luxuriating in the silence. It was strange how quickly this place had begun to feel like home.