TWENTY-NINE #3
‘Don’t think we’re going to have much luck today,’ said Oliver, starting the engine again after another fruitless stop. ‘More luck in a couple of months.’
We got back to the estate, and Noah scuffed his feet dejectedly as we entered the gatehouse.
‘Someone’s happy,’ said Dom.
‘We didn’t see any deer or cows,’ said Noah.
‘But you did get to see a Typhoon and a Merlin,’ said Oliver. ‘And get to eat burger and chips.’
‘Sounds like a good day to me,’ said Dom.
‘I’ll make us a coffee,’ said Oliver.
I followed him out to the kitchen. Oliver filled the kettle and put it on to boil. Then, after sorting the cups, he leaned his forearms on the island worktop.
‘If you want to chill at your own lodge or just need some space, I won’t be offended.’
‘Why would I want to do that?’
He shrugged. ‘You’ve been with us all day. It can be a lot.’
‘I don’t need space. You and Noah are not a lot, opposite in fact.’ His jaw relaxed a fraction. I knew he wouldn’t ask, he was waiting for me. ‘Can we talk?’ I said at last. ‘Not here. Outside. Go for a walk or something?’
‘Sure,’ he said without hesitation. ‘Is now good before it gets dark?’
‘Now would be good.’
‘Let me speak to Dom quickly.’
He left the kitchen. I heard him ask Dom if he could watch Noah for a while.
‘No problem,’ replied Dom without hesitation. Then in a lower voice, that I could actually still hear. ‘Have you got a moment? I need to speak to you about something.’
Oliver hesitated. ‘When I get back.’
Dom appeared not to argue, as the next moment he was rallying Noah to action.
‘Hey Noah, how about you come with me? I’m going over to Risk Farm to look at a horse.’
Noah was happy to go off with his uncle, and once they had left, Oliver and I headed out.
We walked around the loch, the late afternoon sun reflecting across the water.
Beyond that, Risk Point with the mountains lurking in the distance.
It really was idyllic here, and I knew I wanted to stay.
I think I’d always known from day one, but I had been too scared to admit it because that would mean commitment and that was something I hadn’t been able to do for a long time.
I slipped my hand into Oliver’s as we walked, and his fingers curled around mine. I just hoped I was making the right decision in telling him.
We carried on along the trail that made its way through the woodland and up to The Shelf, offering a view of the estate.
‘You sure you want to go up there?’ asked Oliver.
‘Yes. If you’re okay with that.’
We continued the hike up to The Shelf in a comfortable silence. Coming here with Oliver was like an exorcism.
We stood and admired the view in silence. This was the moment to tell Oliver. We both knew it. He waited. As he always did. Waited for me. Didn’t ask. Didn’t pressure.
‘There’s something I need to tell you,’ I began. ‘Want to tell you.’ I didn’t look at him. It was easier to keep my gaze fixed on the loch below.
‘Okay,’ he said. ‘Want is good.’
I hesitated just for a beat. ‘I was asked to leave the army. Told it was for my own good. If I resigned, I’d leave with a clean record. Everything would remain confidential. My professional registrations as a nurse wouldn’t be compromised and I’d still get my resettlement package.
‘Threats disguised as support.’
‘Exactly. I had already rocked the boat once. They didn’t want me doing it again.’
‘Did you fight it?’
‘I didn’t have the energy at that point.’ I scuffed the snow underfoot with the toe of my boot. ‘I’d already gone through a lengthy behind-the-scenes enquiry.’ I paused again. This was where I told him. ‘I was attacked. In my room. Henderson tried to rape me. Tried.’
I felt strangely detached as I said the words, managing to block out the emotions that went with them.
I sensed Oliver’s whole demeanour change. His body stiffened. His jaw tightened.
I carried on while I still could.
‘I fought him off somehow. I reported him that night, but they were slow. He had a father who had influence. No charges were brought. No case to answer. My word against his. He framed it like I was a spurned lover. Like I was the one who was obsessed with him and had made it up just to get revenge.’
My voice wavered, but I somehow kept hold of my composure.
Oliver still hadn’t said a word. I stole a look. I had to know what he was thinking.
He closed his eyes for a moment, and he took several deep breaths in and out. His hand clenched into a fist before releasing. It was taking every ounce of self-control to stop him from reacting.
‘Fuck,’ he said. He turned to me, went to reach out, stopped, ran his hands through his hair.
He looked up to the sky, clasping his hands behind his head.
Then he turned back to me. ‘Lexi…’ He reached for me again and this time didn’t stop, taking my hand in his.
‘I’m so sorry. So fucking sorry.’ Tears shined in his eyes.
‘It’s okay. I don’t want pity.’ I squeezed his hand in mine. ‘But…there’s something else.’
He looked almost shell-shocked, as if he couldn’t begin to understand what else there could be. ‘Okay,’ he said softly.
‘Fletcher… he’s not Fletcher. He’s… he’s Henderson.’