Trust Me Page 10

“Rubbish.”

  Mam and I chuckle as Callista grabs her son, ignoring his dirty clothes, and covers him with mother-hen kisses.

  “I’ve missed you so much.”

  He gives in to her and lets her drag him into the house. Bringing in the shopping, there’s a pair of large wellies with the waterproof over-trousers tucked into them at the porch door.

  “Sorry, I stink of silage,” he apologises, grabbing the shopping bags from me to put on the table.

  It’s the only spare space. The kitchen unit tops are stacked with boxes full of sponges and fruitcake. The window ledges are filled with cards, and there are three bunches of flowers in the kitchen alone.

  “Ah, no bother. I’m used to it. You and Sion have gotta help me out with this cake. People are so kind, but I’m gonna have to freeze most of it. I’ll drop some off at the cottage later.”

  Callista helps me unpack too, while she chats to her son.

  She’s threaded her long grey hair with colourful lacing since I last saw her. And her waist-length dreadlocks are held off her face and tied back with a pastel-striped headscarf.

  She looks great, and I’ve always admired how effortlessly well she layers. Today she’s wearing a tubular grey skirt with a floaty white cotton shirt over a tight black vest top. For warmth, she’s paired it with a grey boyfriend cardigan. And she’s covered in lots of chunky silver jewellery.

  Her clothes are Bohemian and expensive. As the daughter of a successful oil executive from a wealthy family, she’s lived off trust funds and inheritance her whole life. She’s never had to earn a crust like the rest of us.

  She told me how, as a youngster, she’d rebelled. Rejected university and went off on a year-long road trip in a hippy bus. It lasted far longer than a year. She ended up travelling around the world, then living with a group of like-minded friends; going to festivals and getting involved in political activism. Eventually, she settled down so Jac could go to high school, living off-grid here.

  Many would be right when they argued that it was easy for her. Money had never meant much to Callista because she’d always had it. She wasn’t flashy, but you could tell that she never had to make choices about what she could afford.

  What I like most about Callista, though, is that she’s passionate. She always fights for what she believes in. And, I’ve not met anyone with a more generous heart than her’s.

  Standing side by side with Jac, I’m taken by their similarity. Both are tall and striking. And both have those same dark, unfathomable eyes.

  ◆◆◆

  The crematorium service has been well attended, and Maureen has held up well.

  It was only me that heard her sigh of relief when the coffin disappeared behind the curtains. She gripped my hand tightly and I squeezed it back. I didn’t want to ever let her go.

  Afterwards, The Cross Keys is jam-packed with friends, family and neighbours. Some that we haven’t seen in years. Everyone likes a funeral tea around these parts. It’s a chance for a good catch up.

  A handsome man with sandy hair approaches me purposefully through the funeral-goers, with a cup of tea and a plate of food in his hands.

  “Alun.”

  “Annie. I’m sorry about your father.”

  I nod back in acknowledgement.

  I haven’t seen him in twelve years. Alun Lewis, my neighbour. Lizard Man.

  He’s looking well. Very well, in fact. Muscular and trim.

  We make small talk, mainly about his large farm, that lies next to ours. He’s running his own machinery contracting business from there, too. His quick eyes flick over me, making me bristle. Or, maybe the hairs on my neck are standing up because I can feel Jac’s eyes on me the whole time that Alun and I are talking together.

  He’s with Sion, chatting to some old school friends.

  I turn around for a second, glancing towards the bar, and my eyes slam into his.

  He nods back at me.

  Dammit! It was like I was checking him out.

  Feeling my cheeks burning up, I switch my attention back to Alun.

  Thankfully, Alun is oblivious. He’s wrapped up in a long conversation about himself. And by his manner of speaking, it feels like an opening gambit.

  He’s laying his cards out for me. How many acres he’s farming. How many cows he’s milking. The number of sheep he has. Ask any farmer, and with that kind of information, their heads will be instantly filled with calculations of how much he’s earning.

  Alun Lewis is telling me that he’s quite a catch.

  “I’ll call by sometime, if you’re going to be around for a while.”

  It’s a statement, not a question.

  “For a cuppa.”

  “Yes, alright.”

  I hope he takes the hint from my non-committal tone.

  Alun Lewis is not a ‘call-round-for-a-cuppa’ kinda guy.

  I search for Mam. She must be getting tired by now, and Callista has promised me that she will take her home whenever she’s ready to go.

  Cal already knew about Mam’s diagnosis. I’m coming to realise that there are a lot of things that Callista knows, that she’s not told me.

  And it’s only me in the dark. Again.

  I hang on through the afternoon until most of the funeral-goers have drifted away. Jac is long gone. He left to check the stock. And Callista’s taken Mam home, so I give Claire a hand to clear up.

  Discarded crockery and glasses lie everywhere, and Kevin the manager is nowhere to be seen.

  “Need some help?”

  Sion pops a cold sausage roll into his mouth as Claire comes past, arms laden with a stack of dirty plates.

  “What with eating? Or clearing up?” she jokes, throwing me a look.

  “Both.”

  But, to be fair, Sion’s good. Before long, most of the dishes are in a pile on the buffet table, ready to be taken through to the kitchen. Then, he goes at it again, helping me collect the glasses.

  “She loves me really,” he whispers, nodding over to where Claire is stacking the dishwasher. “She just doesn’t know it yet.”

  “You sure about that, pal? I thought she fancied Jac?”

  Sion looks at me curiously.

  “I hope not. If she does, she’s gonna get her heart broken.”

  I shrug it off.

  “Ahh, Jac’s rule, you mean?”

  “You know about that?”

  I put the final lot of glasses onto the bar.

  “I’m gonna head off in a minute. It’s been a pretty full-on day.”

  Sion takes the last of the dishes through to Claire, then joins me as I get my coat.

  “Want some company on the walk home?’

  After he’s stayed to help, I don’t have the heart to tell him that I’m all out of conversation and want to be on my own for a bit.

  With a goodbye to Claire, he follows me out of the pub into the chilly late February afternoon.

  “They always say it gets better after the funeral.”

  I don’t reply, and we walk on in silence.

  “I’ve been there too.”

  I’ve heard more than enough ‘time heals’ platitudes today.

  “Annie,” Sion tries again after a minute or so. “I really do know what you’ve gone through. Maureen told me.”

  I stop in my tracks and stare at him.

  “She did?”

  “I saw the scars on her arm. Got a couple of impressive burn marks myself. From my old man.”

  “How?”

  “Cigarettes. You?”

  “Belt,” I shrug. “For coming back late from Jac’s one time. Another, for looking at him the wrong way. Once, for breathing.”

  He walks quietly alongside me.

  “I got in the way,” he says. “Mainly when he was going after my mam. She was too pissed to care.”

  “What happened?”

  “Social services took me from there. I joined up as soon as I could. Mam’s dead. Dad’s gone, not sure where. Jac and Jase are my family no
w.”

  I touch his arm. I can tell he understands how tangled my head is about my father. Because his is too.

  “I only wanted to tell you, that you’re not alone.”

  CHAPTER 12

  -----------✸----------

  In the end, Mam only lasts three weeks. I can’t believe how quickly everything’s happened. The funeral marked a turning point, and it wasn’t long after that she took to her bed. The doctor came out to see her, but it was palliative care that they set up, not the treatment plan I’d hoped for.

  “She made her peace once your father was gone,” Callista reflects, holding my hand as the funeral director’s van moves slowly off the yard with Mam inside it.

  She’d died in the early hours of the morning.

  A palliative care nurse has been with us too. And between us all, we’ve given Mam the dignity and care she wanted in her final days; in her own bed.

  “I don’t know what I’d have done without you, Cal. Again.”

  She hugs me.

  “Thanks for putting your life on hold for me. For being here.”

  “I’ll always be here for you, sweetie. I promised your mother that.”

  This loss is different. I’m exhausted but strangely calm.

  And there are no more tears.

  The few weeks I’ve had with Mam have been so precious. It’s a small comfort now that she’s gone, but I was never so close to her as I was over this past month, and I’m eternally grateful for the time we had together.

  We both go back indoors for some rest before we tell anyone. I’m not up to more rounds of visitors, tea and cake just yet.

  I need a nap, then a long walk.

  Every day, I’ve been getting out in the afternoon for a break, while Callista sat with Mam.

  I needed the fresh air and the exercise after being in the house. So, I walked the fields and footpaths around the farm.

  The first day I came across Jac fencing in the lower field.

  The second, I found him in the pens worming the sheep before they lambed. I stayed longer than I’d intended, giving him a hand moving the sheep through the holding race for him to feed them the dose of wormer more quickly. It was fun, like old times, and what I needed to clear my head.

  On the third day, I saw him early in the yard. He joked that if I bumped into him that afternoon he’d start thinking that I was his stalker, so he made points instead to meet me, so I could give him a hand with moving the sheep.

  He’s put the heaviest sheep, the ones in lamb with twins, in the fields around the cottage. He can keep a closer eye on them there over the next month. Then, he’ll transfer them into the lambing sheds once they’re closer to their due date at the end of March.

  And that’s how it’s been. Every afternoon since then, I’ve been doing farm jobs with Jac.

  We don’t discuss anything profound. We don’t do much talking at all. He lets me be and understands that I need some time out. Time to breathe.

  ◆◆◆

  Jac’s offered to cook.

  I was a little reluctant when Callista first mentioned it, but by the time we’ve both had a sleep and a shower, I admit to Callista that I’m glad to be getting out of the house. The place feels odd, and it’s our first evening without Mam around.

  And when we arrive at the cottage, things are in full flow. Jac pulls himself away from the stove to give me a hug. In the end, I slept all afternoon, and so I haven’t seen him since Mam passed this morning.

  “I needed that.”

  Jac seems to sense the rawness I’m feeling, and doesn’t mention her. He’s already said it all in that long hug he’s just given me.

  “Make yourself at home.”

  He takes our coats.

  “Mi casa es su casa.”

  I clock the look Callista throws him.

  The cottage. The farm. Perhaps, Jac hasn’t worked it out yet, but it’s all mine now.

  That’s quite a lot for me to take in too.

  What on earth am I going to do with it?

  Callista reads my mind.

  “So, what next?”

  I give her a blank look.

  “After the funeral, I’ll need to sort out my flat in London. Clear out all the new life-forms that are growing in my fridge.”

  “Did you write back to your employer?”

  An email had come through setting a date for a disciplinary hearing, and I’d agonised about what to do.

  “You know my thoughts on that. You absolutely have to fight it. It’s nothing less than sexual politics in the workplace. Why should, this Seb, get away with it? He’s used his power, and you’re rolling over.”

  But, I’ve no appetite for a fight. I don't tell Callista that I’ve already made my mind up. I'm going to resign quietly and walk away.

  The bigger question for me, is whether I’m going to try and get another job in London, or stay here in Wales?

  I haven’t made up my mind yet.

  It’s too much.

  All I can face right now are small steps.

  Resign.

  Sort my flat.

  Jac has made us a vegetable lasagne, and the kitchen is filled with the mouth-watering smell of the focaccia loaf smothered in garlic butter, that’s finishing off in the oven.

  My stomach is growling.

  Sion makes an appearance and gets everyone drinks. It’s a bit of a squash, but it feels cosy as the four of us sit down to eat in the tiny kitchen.

  “Good effort, Jac. This is delicious,” Callista declares, eating another piece of his homemade Italian bread.

  “Sion’s made the pudding.”

  “Don’t get excited, it’s only a crumble.”

  “You’re like a married couple,” Cal jokes, and Jac gives her a look that makes everyone laugh.

  “It’s true,” she chuckles, “I always wanted a gay son.”

  Jac shakes his head.

  “As you kept telling me. All through my teens. It was very confusing.”

  “You staying for a while?” I ask Sion, as he finishes the last of his lasagne.

  “Yes, until my next job comes up.”

  “What’ve you been up to?” Callista pursues.

  “Mainly kayaking and some hill-walking. Spent a night camping in Snowdonia.”

  “Camping? In February?”

  “Yeah. It’s a little cold at night, I‘m not gonna lie, but I was climbing in an old quarry up there. Something to do between jobs.”

  “I hear you’re pretty handy around the place?” I fish. “Any good with a screwdriver and a paintbrush?”

  “Why?”

  “I could use some help in the farmhouse. I’ll pay you.”

  “Yeah. Okay. Sounds good.”

  Draining the final drops of his red wine, Sion makes his excuses to leave.

  “You sure it’s your emails you’re checking out in The Cross Keys?” Jac teases.

  I ask him with my eyes, and he mouths the name ‘Claire’ to me.

  “I thought she liked you?”

  He pulls a face at me, to tell me how stupid I am for missing something so blindingly obvious.

  “I’m whacked,” Callista announces. “I’ll give you a hand to clear up, and then I’ll be off too.”

  “I’ll do that,” I offer. “I’ve been asleep all afternoon. I’m good to go clubbing all night, if anyone’s up for it.”

  Jac starts loading the dishwasher.

  “Not sure about clubbing, but we could watch a DVD? I’ll take you both back. We can watch it at yours.”

  “Yeah. Okay. Something mindless, with explosions and fast cars?”

  “Deal.”

  Jac drives us back to the farm.

  Callista goes off to bed, while Jac and I sit down together in the living room.

  It feels like old times again, as I snuggle down under a throw with Jac to watch the movie.

  And somehow, as we get into the action-adventure film, I’ve found that his arm is around me, as my head has come to rest on
his shoulder. And it feels so comforting lying up against him, like we did as kids, watching the movie’s set-piece action sequences and city car chases.

  “It’s strange being here without Mam.”

  He squeezes my shoulder, and his breath on my head sends a disturbing thrill through me that I try desperately to squash.

  But then, he sets me tingling again as I sense his mouth quietly brushing the top of my head, and it’s all I can do not to tilt my face towards his lips, like a flower to the sun.

  He’s only being nice to me.

  Repeating that as a mantra in my head, helps steady my pulse.

  “You’re not alone, Annie. We’re all here for you.”

  You were right, I tell myself. He is only comforting you.

  But it’s at that moment too, that I finally admit it to myself. My teen crush isn’t over.

  I’m still in love with Jac Jones.

  ◆◆◆

  “How’s my favourite bar worker this evening?”

  Claire placed a perfectly poured pint of lager onto the bar.

  “Who, Kevin?” Claire fired back with a quirky grin. “If you wanna know, he’s being his usual dickhead self.”

  “What’s he done now?”

  Pulling out the plastic bag that she’d dumped under the bar, she produced from it a tiny cutaway vest top with a beer brand across it.

  “He just wants me to wear this as my uniform. He says we need to boost sales.”

  “What? And does he wanna stick a couple of poles in the corner too?”

  Kevin was starting to get up his nose.

  “Where’s he tonight?”

  “Liverpool. Probably seeing those dodgy mates of his, who were in here last week. I’m gonna tell him to stick his job. I like it here, but there’s plenty of bar work on the coast. And I’m definitely not wearing that.”

  “I’ll miss you if you go.”

  “I thought you were only here for the wifi?”

  He took a sip of his drink.

  “But, if you did wanna go out some time?”

  “I don’t date customers.”

  “What if I stop coming in?”

  He held her gaze.

  “What if you stop working here?”

  “Go check your emails, Sion.”

  He grinned.

  She hadn’t said no.

  She looked really good this evening, in her black Nirvana t-shirt and tight black jeans. She was far too cool for this place. She didn’t need that pillock harassing her.