The Runaway Bride, page 10
There wasn’t much else I could get done that day: things like contacting bookshops and journalists would have to wait for the official working week to start. When I’d read through some of the documents, I borrowed Jack’s laptop to draft a quick press release I could post out with review copies of his latest book, Tilly and Billy Go to Sea, then pushed it away.
‘All right, think I’m spent for now,’ I said to Jack, who’d long abandoned his drawing and was deep in a book.
‘Productive day?’
‘Think so. You?’
‘Yeah, pretty good. Some preliminary sketches for the new one done.’
‘Which is?’
‘Tilly and Billy in a Hot Air Balloon.’
‘Okay, that’s got marketing potential.’ I had a sudden brainwave. ‘Ooh! We could do a book launch in a balloon. How awesome would that be? Bet I could get you a bucket of press.’
He smiled. ‘Oh, Di is going to love you.’ He patted the seat next to him. ‘Okay, come here. Staff appraisal time.’
I went to join him on the sofa.
‘So, how’d I do on my first day?’
‘Not bad. Seven out of ten for enthusiasm—’
‘Pfft, what? I was Miss bloody Enthusiasm!’
‘Exactly. Right over the top of my Sunday lie-in. But nine out of ten for competence. Well done.’
I beamed. ‘Thanks. How do I get a ten then?’
‘Less humming while you read the post. Distracting. Also, the penis photos tend to take me out of my drawing a bit.’
‘You asked to see that!’
‘PA lesson one. Never let me have what I ask for. I’m a bad influence on myself.’ He stood and went to the fridge. ‘All the same, I think you earned this.’
He took out a bottle of something alcoholic and poured us both a glass.
‘So what’s next?’ I said.
Jack took his seat again, handed me my glass and stretched an arm around me as usual. ‘I thought we’d head off next week. Up to Scotland.’
‘To your parents’ place?’
‘That’s right,’ he said. ‘The puppies’ll be happy there till they’re ready for rehoming. We’ll pick you up a laptop and mobile on the way so you can really get stuck in. And you’d better sort out a bank account too so I can pay you.’
‘Yeah. I really want to do that asap. It feels kind of symbolic.’ I laughed. ‘My first bank account, how grown up am I?’
‘What will you need to get it set up?’
‘Good question.’ I grabbed Jack’s laptop and googled the bank’s website to find out what I needed. ‘Passport and proof of address. Shit! Address, didn’t think of that.’ I glanced up at him. ‘How do you manage?’
‘I use my parents’ address, when I need to apply for anything, and they forward the post on. Sure they won’t mind you doing the same.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘I’ll ask my mam when we get up there, but yeah, can’t see it being a problem. What about your ISA money? Do you know what you need for that?’
‘I’ll need the current account first so they can transfer the cash. Just a sec.’ I pulled up the building society’s website. ‘But – oh, typical. They want two proofs of identity, either driving licence or birth certificate as well as my passport. And I don’t drive.’
‘Where’s your birth certificate again?’
‘At Mum’s, I’m assuming.’ I shuddered. ‘And I’m not going there for it.’
‘Well, I’m sure you can get a copy. We’ll sort it out tomorrow.’ He took the laptop from me and stood to stash it back in the overhead compartment where it lived. ‘How come you never got your driving licence then? Didn’t take to it?’
‘Never had a lesson. Ethan didn’t see the need for us both to be drivers. Said it was a waste of money when he could drop me anywhere I needed to be.’
‘Hmm. He did, did he?’
I frowned. ‘That’s not unusual, is it?’
‘And he stopped you opening a bank account?’
‘Well, no, he never actually stopped me. It’s just, when me and Ethan moved in together I was only seventeen. He said I could use his until I was an adult, then we’d upgrade to a joint account.’
‘But you never did.’
‘No. Ethan said his credit rating was better than mine so it’d be best to leave it in his name. In case we needed to get a loan or anything.’
‘That’s not how it works, Kitty.’
‘Isn’t it?’
‘No.’
He was staring at me. I felt my cheeks start to heat.
‘What?’ I said.
‘So every penny you ever earned went into his account.’
‘Yeah. But I could get it if I wanted to. I mean, I had a bank card. He just… he thought I wasn’t good with money so he wanted to keep track of our outgoings.’
Jack nodded. ‘Soph was like that. She was always more aware of what was going in and out than me, worried we were overspending. Know what we did?’
‘What?’
‘We had a conversation. Agreed to budget more carefully between us, make sure we were putting a bit away for a rainy day.’ He came to sit by me on the sofa again. ‘That’s what couples do, Kitty. One doesn’t just loftily inform the other she can’t access her own money, then gamble it away on the stock market without telling her.’
‘No…’
‘What did your family think of the arrangement?’
‘They didn’t know,’ I mumbled, feeling ashamed without quite knowing why. ‘My dad suspected something was up, I think. That’s why he put the ISA in just my name. But Laurel, my nan, Aunty Julia… Mum. I knew they’d be worried by it. And it wasn’t a big deal, really. I could always get money – Ethan was very generous with it.’
‘Generous. With your money. How fucking magnanimous of him.’ He took my two hands in his. ‘Kit, will you do something for me?’
He was looking into my face, his eyes intense. I wondered what was about to happen. He’d promised my staying would be strictly professional, but there was still that… something, always in the air between us.
‘Um, yeah. If you like,’ I said, dropping my gaze.
‘Replay what we just said back in your head, will you?’
‘Why?’
‘Please. For me.’
I thought back on the conversation we’d just had, then shook my head, bewildered. ‘What’re you getting at, Jack?’
‘Don’t you hear yourself? Defending him?’
Defending him… Had I just done that? All I could hear was Ethan said… Ethan said. God, when I heard myself trying to justify it all, it sounded pathetic.
‘I promised not to ask what happened between you two at the wedding, but whatever it was must’ve been pretty horrific for you to end up here,’ Jack said. ‘And I’ve seen first-hand that he’s a controlling son of a bitch, not above a bit of emotional blackmail if it’ll help him get his way. You need to ask yourself why you’re still sticking up for him.’
He stood to refill our glasses while I stared blankly ahead.
‘Well?’ he said when he’d resumed his seat.
‘Yeah, maybe that is what it sounded like,’ I said slowly. ‘But it’s not really about him, not now. I know what he is. It’s…’ I looked up at him. ‘It’s me, Jack, I guess. I’m ashamed of myself for being taken in by him for so long. I mean, God! Like a child I let him… It’s pathetic. Isn’t it? I’m pathetic.’
‘You’re not pathetic. And there’s nothing for you to be ashamed of,’ he said gently, taking my hand and stroking it with his fingertips. ‘He’s conditioned you to think that way. It’s classic abusive behaviour.’
‘Abuse?’ It was the second time now he’d used that word, and both times it had sent a sickening pain through my gut. I pulled my hand away. ‘No.’
Ethan might’ve been a selfish, patronising bastard, now I tried my best to look at it objectively. He might’ve babied and cotton-wooled me until I felt like I could hardly breathe. Kept my money from me; spent it without consulting me. But abuse? Abuse was what Uncle Ken did. Abuse was ‘Oh, this? No, I just walked into a door’ or ‘Burned my hand on the iron’. After what’d happened to Aunty Julia, abuse was the one thing I’d always promised myself would mean an instant end to any relationship.
‘He cut you off,’ Jack said. ‘Isolated you, financially and emotionally. Didn’t he?’
‘Well, he… I guess he did kind of keep me to himself.’
‘They always do. Possession. That’s what it’s all about to someone with that mindset, dressed up as some sort of benevolent paternalism.’ I’d never seen such a black look on his face before. ‘It’s about ownership, in the end. The power trip of owning another human being. Pah! There’s more to abuse than a closed fist, Kit.’
I stared at him. ‘I’ve never known you to get angry like that.’
‘Guys like Ethan make me that angry. I just don’t know how people can treat other people that way and have the gall to call it love.’ He squeezed my hand tightly, and when he spoke again his voice was soft. ‘Sorry you had to go through that. You know, you’re a tough cookie, Kitty Clayton.’
I shook my head. ‘But it can’t be right. I always promised myself I’d never be a victim of that. I… I’d have noticed.’
‘You’re not a victim, not any more. You’re a survivor.’
I felt uncomfortable suddenly. Queasy. I wished I could be somewhere else, away from Jack and his words.
‘I’m going to bed,’ I mumbled. ‘I’ll sleep in the awning if you’re staying up.’
‘Running away?’ he said gently.
‘No. I just want a bit of space, that’s all.’
‘I’m sorry, Kit, I wasn’t trying to make you uncomfortable. I just think it’s important you face up to this. You told him where to go in real life, but he’s still there in your head. Isn’t he?’
‘He… maybe. A slice of him.’
He was still holding my hand. God, I needed to escape. I had to get away, from Jack, from what he was trying to make me face up to, from his hand around mine and his stupid kind, understanding eyes.
And then, suddenly, I didn’t. Away from Jack was the last place I wanted to be. I wanted to be as close to him as humanly possible. I wanted him to make Ethan go away for me, to push him right out of my head. I wanted him to… to…
‘Jack, can I sleep with you tonight?’ I blurted out.
He frowned. ‘With me? Why?’
I flushed. ‘I thought… I mean, a hug would be nice. Um.’
Jack blinked. ‘Okay.’ He wrapped his arms around me, looking bewildered at my sudden shift in mood.
‘That’s good,’ I whispered, drooping against him. ‘Jack?’
‘Yeah?’
‘Will you kiss me? Please.’
He hesitated.
‘No,’ he said at last. ‘Not now.’
‘But you said you wanted to.’
‘Not like this.’ He stroked my hair away from my face. ‘Not while you’re hurting. If I kiss you, I want it to be… well, I want you to be thinking about me.’
‘I am thinking about you.’
‘You know what I mean. I want it to have joy in it, Kitty. When you make that decision, I want it to be about us. Not about him.’ He tilted my chin up and planted the smallest kiss on my forehead. ‘Get him out of there. Then maybe there’ll be room for me.’
13
It was catching sight of the calendar on my shiny new PA phone on the following week that convinced me I couldn’t put it off any longer. Now we were officially living together in the camper, there was a conversation Jack and I needed to have.
I finally plucked up the courage to broach the subject while he was washing up after breakfast.
‘Jack…’ I began hesitantly.
‘Hmm?’
‘Er, I wanted to talk to you about… well, there’s this, um…’
Oh God, why couldn’t I come right out and say it? I’d tried to open the conversation a dozen times already.
I tried again. ‘It’s just, um, I’m a girl and everything.’
He smiled. ‘I had noticed.’
‘So, er…’
Arghhh! Getting embarrassed talking about periods to boys at my age was just ridiculous. And Jack had been married, it’s not like he wouldn’t understand.
Was this bloody Ethan’s fault again? He’d always been squeamish about what he called ‘women’s issues’. I could still picture his look of horror when I’d asked him to pick up some tampons from the shop one time, way back in the early days. I’d never dared ask again.
‘And girls have… things…’ I tried. ‘Times, you know, when things aren’t so great…’
He was still staring blankly at me.
I took a deep breath. ‘I mean, times of the month where I’m not so fun. To be around. Where I might feel a bit crap, you know?’
‘Oh. Oh!’ he said, the penny dropping at last. ‘I’m sorry, Kit, you should’ve said before. Do you need me to pop out for anything?’
I smiled at his attempts to be sweet. ‘I didn’t mean right now. I just thought we should have the conversation, that’s all.’
‘Okay. Um… so, what would you want me to do? Hot water bottles and things?’
‘No, what I’m getting at is – I suppose I’m just worried about being cooped up in this tiny van in the middle of nowhere, feeling all tummy-hurty and grumpy. It wouldn’t be much fun for you either. And it’d be nice if we could be somewhere with proper loos and everything, you know…’
My face was beetroot by now, but Jack didn’t seem embarrassed. He just gave an understanding nod.
‘Fair enough. If you let me know when, I’ll make sure we’re not on the road for as long as you need. And if you want a bit of space I understand. Just kick me out into the awning if you feel like I’m crowding you.’
I exhaled with relief. ‘Thanks, Jack. That’d be great.’
*
Jack spent twenty minutes after lunch on his mobile outside the camper. When he came back, he chucked it on the passenger seat and threw himself down next to me on the sofa.
‘Who was it?’ I asked, looking up from the press release I was tapping out on my new laptop.
‘Nobody.’
‘Come on, it must’ve been somebody.’
‘Okay, nobody important.’ He turned to face me. ‘Kit, would you be able to mind the pups this afternoon? I need to drive into town for something.’
‘Er, yeah, I guess,’ I said. ‘What is it?’
He tapped his nose. ‘That’d be telling.’
‘You being mysterious?’
‘Yep,’ he said with a grin. ‘Mystery is my middle name.’
‘No it isn’t, your middle name’s Matthew.’
‘’Tis too, it’s my Confirmation name. St Mystery of Vegas, well-known Catholic martyr. She got stoned to death with folded dollar bills for working as an exotic dancer to convert the heathens.’
I laughed. ‘Go on then, I’ll see to the doggies. How long will you be?’
‘Couple of hours should do it.’
I’d got used to Jack’s creative approach to timekeeping by then, so I wasn’t surprised that it was actually closer to three hours when he finally drove back with the camper. Sandy and me were sprawled side by side on the grass in the blazing June sunshine, reading a book. Well, I was reading a book: you could never get Sandy interested in literature, ignorant mongrel. The pups were in their bed at my feet, enjoying the warm weather.
I pushed myself into a sitting position to watch Jack park up in our pitch.
‘What the hell is that?’ I asked when he’d joined us.
Attached to the back of the van was a little orange – God, I didn’t even know what to call it. It looked like a horse box for a knee-high Shetland pony.
‘It’s a present.’ Jack sat down next to me. ‘Hope you like it.’
‘Er, thanks,’ I said, shooting the thing a puzzled look. ‘And they say diamonds are a girl’s best friend.’
‘That’s a classic, I’ll have you know; 1972 Eriba Puck caravan. Even managed to get one that matched the van.’
‘What for though? Why do you need a teeny-weeny caravan?’ I turned wide eyes on him. ‘Oh God. Tell me you’re not getting another pet. What is it this time, a womble?’
‘I told you, it’s for you,’ he said. ‘There’s a bed, bit of extra cupboard space – even a kitchenette. Home from home, if you like.’
‘You got me my own room to sleep in?’
‘Only when you want to. Or I will, once it gets cold. I prefer the awning in summer.’
‘But why?’
‘Just thought you might appreciate a sort of house extension, stop the van seeming quite so cramped when you’re feeling rough,’ he said. ‘You know, what you said this morning about needing your own girly space sometimes.’
‘Oh. Right. A little box of my own.’ I patted his arm. ‘Well, it was a nice thought. Hope you didn’t spend too much on it.’
‘Not really. It was only eight grand.’
‘Bloody hell!’ I looked at the tiny thing with new eyes. ‘What’s that, a grand per square inch of floor space?’
‘That’s a bargain, honestly. Told you, they’re classics. Some collectors pay through the nose for that sort of thing.’
I shook my head. ‘You shouldn’t spend money like that on things for me.’
‘Why not?’ he said with a shrug. ‘I’ve got feck all else to spend it on.’
‘Seriously though. People’ll think I’m some slutty retro-caravan-digger.’
He laughed. ‘Well, call it an early Christmas bonus then. Here, come take a look inside.’
I followed Jack to the incy-wincy caravan. He unlocked the door and ushered me in.
‘See? Loads of space,’ he said, joining me. ‘Look, you can get two of us in no problem.’
‘Er, yeah,’ I said, smiling at Jack’s bowed head and hunched shoulders.
I cast my eyes around the caravan. It looked like someone had attacked Jack’s camper with a shrink ray. There was a kitchenette with a hob, fridge and sink, one tall cupboard and a couple of narrow sofas that could be slotted together to make a bed, a detachable table between them.
‘I could buy you an awning for it too,’ Jack said, looking downcast that I wasn’t whooping and jumping as I examined the place. To be fair, there wasn’t really the space. ‘It’s just for when you feel like you need a break from me, I’m not moving you into the campervan equivalent of a granny flat or anything. And I thought you could use it as your PA office too, away from distractions.’
