Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
Wild garlic perfumed the air as Bets walked along the path bordered by the pretty white flowers the following morning. Tiggy trotted ahead of her, ears alert and bottom swinging in her usual jaunty fashion. The sight of her brought a faint smile to Bet’s puffy, swollen-eyed face.
Above them, a brilliant blue sky heralded a beautiful summer’s day.
They had the woods below Ivinghoe Beacon to themselves.
Just as well, thought Bets, in no mood for company or conversation.
She felt wrecked this morning after a crying jag when she’d got home from the pub.
Last night had been unbearable. It was as if the quizmaster had mined her and Jack’s history together for all the questions.
She couldn’t decide whether she was pleased or sad that Jack had ducked out halfway through.
He’d gone to the loo and never returned. If only she could have done the same.
The pitying looks were like thistle burrs burrowing into every part of her.
She had had an electrical awareness of Jack and his every movement.
Being around him was so much more difficult than she could ever have envisioned.
Every mannerism, expression on his face, word he spoke, was so familiar but so far out of reach.
It was like being separated from her own skin; her flesh beneath was tender.
Why had anyone not warned her that this could be so painful?
The longing to touch Jack, be touched by him, was intolerable and she absolutely hated feeling like this.
Weak, useless, pathetic and so spineless.
With Jack she’d felt like part of something.
He was her shield. With him at her side, she could do anything.
She’d been so dependent on him and now it was like all her strings had been cut and she was useless.
He’d been her refuge from the craziness at home, opening her eyes to a different way of life, offering stability.
While she was growing up with him, he’d shaped her views, her thoughts, her opinions, and now she wasn’t sure she knew who she really was.
With him she could pretend she was just like everyone else.
And she was fed up with this. Fed up with acting.
Pretending everything was fine, when inside she felt like she was a plant that hadn’t been watered for a month.
Fed up with everyone poking their nose into her affairs, assuming that they knew what she needed.
She didn’t even know what she needed. Who was she?
Feeling sorry for herself was not who she was.
She was better than this, tougher than this.
When had she become such a sad sack? Urgent action was required; although, what that was, eluded her.
Doris was desperate to set her up on a date and had sent through three possibles this morning.
Bets pulled out her phone and looked at the screenshots that Doris had pinged her.
Alex: fun-loving train driver who would take her on an exciting journey.
The image of him leaning against the cab of a steam engine made her wonder if all his journeys began and ended with trains.
Ben: love me, love my golden retriever – unfortunately the picture of him in bed with the dog suggested he might be being quite literal, which was rather disturbing.
Felix: fan of long walks, cosy fires and Sunday lunches, sounded …
exactly what she’d like – but then was that a bit too comfortable?
Bets wanted more. Maybe she should give up everything and go travelling.
That’s what people did, except she didn’t feel brave enough and the practicalities frightened her too much.
What would happen when she came back with no job and nowhere to live?
Going back to her mum’s was not an option in this life or the next.
The thought scared her so much, she went cold.
Bets sighed. She needed to do something – something of her own choosing – and meet some new people, widen her circle, do something like rock climbing, running, knitting or fishing.
Except she was frightened of heights, ran like Phoebe in Friends, would probably stab someone with a knitting needle and couldn’t bring herself to catch a fish.
* * *
Doris looked like a queen bee, lying resplendent on one of Audrey’s velvet sofas. Although that might have had a lot to do with the yellow-and-black striped sweater she was wearing over a long yellow skirt, and the black cast on her leg.
Tiggy immediately crossed over to the sofa to say hello.
‘Who’s this?’
‘This is Tiggy.’
‘Aren’t you a cutie?’ said Doris fondling the dog’s ears.
‘Black?’ asked Bets taking in the cast.
‘I thought it looked dangerous,’ said Doris, looking a little indignant. ‘Oh, hello.’ Tiggy had jumped up onto the sofa next to Doris and plonked herself down, nestling in next to Doris’ hip. ‘Make yourself comfortable.’
‘Sorry, she assumes everyone loves her.’
‘I can see why.’ Doris stroked Tiggy under her chin and Bets could see the dog practically melt into the older woman.
‘You’ve got a friend for life there. She’s a complete attention-seeker.’
‘And why not? A dog after my own heart.’ Doris’ mouth turned down at the corners. ‘And I’m thinking I’ve made a terrible mistake.’
‘It’s all right, Doris. None of those men are right.’
‘What? I thought Ben had a lot of promise. You like dogs.’
Bets raised an eyebrow.
‘No, I’ve made a mistake with this thing.’ She pointed to her leg. ‘It’s too gloomy. Which is why you’re here.’
‘I am?’ asked Bets. ‘I thought I was here to entertain you and do your bidding.’
‘There is that as well,’ conceded Doris with a sunny smile. ‘Did you bring my newspaper?’
‘Yes, and your biscuits and your probiotic yoghurt and … the tin of rice pudding you wanted.’ Bets produced the tin.
‘Excellent,’ said Doris, holding out a hand. ‘I can keep up my exercise and my bicep curls.’
‘Hello, Bets dear,’ said Audrey appearing with a tea tray. ‘Ella’s on her way.’
‘Tea party?’ asked Bets.
‘Craft afternoon,’ explained Audrey, pulling out a box from behind the sofa.
‘This thing is going to cast a pall’—Doris emphasised the words, clearly pleased with her pun—‘on the festivities at Ollie and Anna’s wedding the weekend after next. And it won’t go with my outfit, so I need it jazzed up.’ Doris beamed.
‘I thought,’ said Audrey, more formally, ‘that we could turn Doris’ cast into a work of art and, given that Ella is our resident artist, she can be director of operations.’
‘If you’ll let her,’ muttered Doris under her breath.
‘I heard that,’ said Audrey, with a placid smile. ‘And I’m very good at utilising the skills I have at my disposal. Ah, Jack. You can pour the tea.’
Bets glanced up and saw Jack standing in the doorway looking ready to bolt.
He’d obviously wandered past at exactly the wrong moment.
Before she could look away, his eyes met hers, and there was that uncomfortable hiccup in her stomach.
Dark circles underscored his eyes and his skin looked pale.
Bets swallowed her concern. Not her problem anymore.
‘I’m…’ He waved one hand vaguely in the opposite direction.
‘Not that busy,’ said Audrey. ‘Now Doris, I thought if we brought the table to you and covered it in newspaper, we can do a really good job. Ella’s bringing some acrylic paints and we’ve got all sorts of bits to stick on.’
‘I want sparkles and some pzazzle,’ said Doris.
‘I’ve got some sequins upstairs,’ said Audrey and with that she shot out of the door.
Doris ginned. ‘I might not be able to dance, but that’s no reason for me to be a wallflower.’
Jack exchanged a quick glance with Bets and they both had to hide their smiles.
‘Life around here is never dull,’ he said, picking up the china teapot and cradling it in his hands.
Bets felt her insides contract. Jack’s hands.
Touching her. The thought brought a blast of heat to her cheeks.
How was it that every time she saw him, she remembered all over again how gorgeous he flipping was?
She studied her own hands, not able to look at him, in case the naked longing showed on her face.
‘Here you go, Doris.’ Jack handed her a mug of tea.
‘Thank you,’ she said very primly.
‘No problem,’ said Jack with a long-suffering smile.
‘Didn’t think it would be,’ quipped Doris, refusing to look at him.
Jack rolled his eyes and Bets wasn’t sure how she felt – a tiny bit sorry for him or a bit pissed off with Doris, because Bets could fight her own battles, thank you very much.
‘Doris, behave,’ said Bets. ‘Whatever problem Jack and I have, it’s between us. No one else.’
Doris shot her a startled look. ‘That’s told me. A poor injured woman, incapable of fending for herself.’
Bets snorted, pleased that she’d actually said something for a change, instead of keeping quiet so as not to upset anyone. ‘There’s nothing poor or incapable about you.’
‘That’s for sure,’ muttered Jack under his breath.
‘And you can be quiet, too,’ said Bets. ‘Just because I don’t want everyone in the village feeling sorry for me and trying to rescue me, don’t think you’re off the hook.’ She gave him a stern glare.
He held up both hands in surrender but thankfully didn’t say anything. She wasn’t sure she could cope with talking to him about anything, not when Doris was watching with avid delight.
‘Hello. What have you been doing, Doris?’ Ella’s arrival was perfectly timed.
‘Tripped over the damn cat. Which reminds me, you’ll have to go and feed her, Jack.’
‘I thought you fell off a step ladder.’
‘Shh,’ whispered Doris. ‘This is my cover story. I’ll never hear the end of it if the doctor knows what I really did.’
‘Mum’s the word,’ said Jack. ‘I’ll feed the cat.’
‘It’s all right, Doris. George is on the case and’—this time Bets’ stern glare was reserved for the older woman—‘it’s much easier for him given he lives next door and doesn’t work for a living.’
‘Hmph,’ said Doris, folding her arms with a disparaging sniff that was definitely directed at Jack.
‘Would you like a cup of tea, Ella?’ asked Jack. ‘I’m mother today.’
‘Thanks, that would be lovely.’ Ella could obviously tell there was a bit of an atmosphere in the room. ‘So, Doris, have you got any ideas about what you’d like on your cast?’
‘Oodles, Ella, but why pay for milk when you can have a cow? Not that you’re a cow but you know what I mean.’
‘I think so,’ said Ella with a peal of laughter. ‘I’ve got an idea actually.’
‘I’m all ears … and flipping cast,’ said Doris gloomily.
‘How about a dancer who’s dancing with her dance partner – they’re embracing each other around your leg.’
Doris clapped her hands in delight. ‘Superb. You see, that’s why you’re an artist.’
‘I’ve brought a sketch.’ Ella handed over a piece of paper.
‘That’s brilliant,’ said Bets and Jack in unison.
Doris gave them a narrow-eyed look and then examined the drawing herself. It was so clever that Bets knew Doris would love it. The picture showed the back of a young woman, her head turned to show her face in profile, wearing a beautiful long dress with a foamy skirt that frothed around her ankles.
‘Oh my, Ella,’ said Doris. ‘It reminds me of Tiller Girl days. It’s spot on. You clever, clever girl.’
‘I remembered the photos you showed me and I thought you could jazz it up with sequins and glitter,’ said Ella.
Ella and Doris immediately entered into a lively discussion about decoration and lines.
Bets looked at the drawing and listened to their conversation.
Ella was so talented. Doris had been a dancer in her day.
Jack was top of his class in bloody everything and always had been and Audrey was a born organiser with the managerial skills of a CEO.
In comparison, what did she offer the world, apart from a sunny nature? Hardly much to recommend her.
She stood up, fed up with being the optimistic, positive one. Painting Doris’ cast wasn’t going to change anything. The woman was stuck here on Audrey’s ground floor for the next six weeks while her leg healed.
‘I need to go,’ she announced.
‘What?’
She almost wanted to laugh out loud at the three perplexed faces staring up at her.
Tiggy raised her head and gave Bets a pissed-off I’m-snug-and-comfortable-right-here-thank-you look. Bets turned on her heel and marched out of the room. Tiggy was at her heel before she even reached the front door.
‘Bets, where are you going?’ asked Audrey from halfway down the stairs.
Bets gave her a helpless shrug and opened the front door and walked out.
It wasn’t like her to create a scene or cause a drama but she was sick of being under everyone else’s microscope with people constantly worrying about her and interfering.
Spending time around Jack was the last thing she wanted.
She was sick of everyone, everything and most of all herself.
Something had to change and she had no idea what but she was starting to think she needed to leave the village and start somewhere afresh.
If only she were brave enough. What else could she do? There had to be something.