Pastures New (2 page)

Jamie strode ahead of her through fields of golden corn
,
with Josh on his back. The sun shone, but the air was
crisp and bracing, a fresh wind coming from the sea
.

‘
Isn’t this perfect?’ Jamie shouted into the wind as it
whipped his hair, his eyes alight with laughter
.

‘
We should come and live here,’ Amy said from behind
a camera, taking a photo to capture the moment
.

‘
We’d need a big house,’ Jamie said. ‘For all of Josh’s
brothers and sisters
.’

‘
And a big garden,’ Amy laughed. ‘With a vegetable patch
.’

‘
And we’d have to have a dog
.’

‘
We could keep chickens,’ offered Amy
.

‘
I’d rather have a goat,’ replied Jamie with a smile
.

‘
Now you’re just being silly.’ Amy punched him on the
shoulder, and he grabbed her hands and pulled her to
him
.

‘
Still, it would be nice,’ she said
.

‘
Wouldn’t it just,’ said Jamie, kissing her. ‘One day, I
promise you, one day
…’

It was the photo from that day, which she still kept beside the bed, that had made her determined to make this move. In the early days, when she had cried herself to sleep every night, she could hardly bear to look at it. But of late, she had found the picture comforting. As if he were still with her, somehow. She couldn’t live the dream with Jamie, but maybe she could do it for him.

Amy had havered for months before taking the plunge. It was Auntie Grace who finally proved the catalyst. Actually a great-aunt, Auntie Grace had lived grumpily alone for many years in the depths of Suffolk. She wasn’t an easy person, but Amy didn’t have much family, so she had dutifully visited from time to time, though admittedly after Jamie had died, when every day had been such a trial, just getting up was difficult on some days, so the visits had tailed off. On the last occasion, a year ago, Grace had fixed her with a beady eye, and said, ‘It seems tough now, you know, but it will get better. Remember my motto: Always look forward. Never back.’

Amy had taken no notice of her at the time, but when, after Grace’s not unexpected demise at the age of eighty-nine several months earlier, she learned that her aunt had left her a considerable sum of money, it seemed like a sign. Jamie had died so suddenly, so
young, he had left no will, and Amy had struggled to keep up with the mortgage payments ever since. Mary had been fantastic, prepared to babysit Josh at the drop of a hat, helping out so Amy didn’t have to pay childcare fees for the whole week, pushing Amy to carry on with the gardening course she had started before Jamie’s death, coming to the rescue when money was especially tight. Amy owed her a huge debt, both financial and emotional. Guilt flared in her chest once more at depriving Mary of Josh.

But now, fortunately, she had enough money to pay off the debts Jamie had left behind and even have some left over. Amy had finished her course, and she could actually afford to stop teaching and forge out a new career as she had always planned to do when Jamie was alive. Maybe it
was
time to look forward and not back. Living round the corner from Mary, whose grief had taken the form of a kind of suffocating blanket covering both Amy and Josh, she’d never be able to do that. Besides, she and Jamie had always talked of coming out this way. If only she could persuade Mary it was the right thing for them to do.

Apart from her brother Danny, who lived in Surrey, and Auntie Grace, Jamie and Mary had been her only family for years now. Her own mother had moved to the States when Amy was at college, and she and Danny had no idea where their father was. Amy’s parents had split up when she was fourteen. Her dad had just walked out one day, and though she and Danny had tried over the years to contact him, their efforts had been in vain. They’d both given up now. Although Amy and her
mother Jennifer had never been close they had always stayed in touch, but Jennifer had remarried. Amy had long held the suspicion that her mum’s demanding new husband, who had several children of his own, allowed her little room for her own offspring. It hadn’t seemed to matter when Amy had had Jamie. He’d been all the family she needed.

Mary had been like a second mother to her – particularly since she had lost Jamie. Leaving her was going to be much harder than Amy had thought, and not just because of Josh.

Mary had made her displeasure so blatant that Amy still felt churned up about the decision she was making. What if she had got it wrong? But then again, what if she stayed and did nothing? Amy knew she was stifled where she was. She was frightened if she didn’t seize this moment to make some changes in her life, she never would.

‘And I’m doing it for you, Jamie,’ she vowed silently. ‘Josh and I will do this for you.’

Josh. A minute ago, he was playing at her side, and now he was nowhere to be seen. Where was he? Amy knew she could be neurotic about Josh, but after the fright he’d given her that morning she wasn’t taking any chances. What if the hairy man she’d seen as she entered the allotments was some kind of weirdo? Then Amy heard the sound of a child yelling, followed by a dog barking. She started to run.

Ben was digging up spuds on the allotment. He always came here after surgery on a Friday, when he had the afternoon off. Particularly if it had been a bad morning. And today had been one hell of a morning. He had been running late for the whole of the session, and there seemed to be more than the usual number of timewasters bemoaning their lot. Sometimes he wondered if he was really cut out for this job. Doling out Prozac like Smarties and treating little old ladies’ verrucas hadn’t really been what he was thinking of when he’d decided to be a doctor all those years ago. And the only important thing he had had to do all day – find someone at his local Primary Care Trust prepared to give one of his MS patients a brand-new drug that was meant to work wonders – had met with a blank wall. If Ben’s patient, a seventy-year-old man, had lived in Essex, there wouldn’t have been a problem. But the postcode lottery of living in Suffolk meant that the patient’s particular PCT weren’t yet giving the drug out. Ben had had the unpleasant task of explaining the inexplicable to the poor man’s wife, who kept saying, ‘But Jane Merchant’s husband gets it, I don’t understand.’ Ben didn’t either. Sometimes this job made you want to weep.

Not only that, he had nearly run over a kid on the way home from work. He hadn’t been going fast, and the kid had run out in front of him – but still. Inevitably, he thought about Sarah, and as a result he had been more angry with the kid’s mum than he should have been. But then – there had been something about her that touched him. An air of vulnerability that had made
him want to protect her. He shook his head. He’d clearly been on his own too long. Perhaps Caroline was right, and he should have chucked it all in for a while and gone travelling with her.

Caroline
. Despite his best intentions his thoughts still strayed back to Caroline. Enchanting, infuriating, mercurial Caroline. Why had he let himself get involved with her again? He’d known it would lead to trouble. But it had been hard letting go of the only person he’d ever really talked to about Sarah. Harder than he’d let on to anyone. It was the sympathetic way Caroline had listened when he’d first opened up to her about Sarah that blinded him to her faults in the first place. Caroline seemed to show such intuitive understanding, and when she’d cried about the day her father had left, it seemed their shared pain had given them a lasting bond. However, it hadn’t taken Ben long to realise that although Caroline did genuinely believe herself to be caring and thoughtful, in reality she was too selfish and spoilt to think too hard about anyone but herself.

To a degree, Ben didn’t blame her – her mother had remarried a rich banker, and while Caroline had never wanted for anything materially, her mother and step-father’s lack of emotional support meant she was appallingly needy. Caroline’s response, when she and Ben had split up, had been to flaunt a variety of different men in Ben’s face. To his eternal shame, the ploy had worked, and when she’d announced that she was leaving, he’d found himself back at her place on more than one occasion. He always regretted it, but Caroline just had a way of getting to him.

It had been a great relief when she’d finally gone off travelling, presuming he would follow her. But Ben had just taken up a temporary contract working in practice, and after spending too long kidding himself he was going to be a surgeon he couldn’t afford to lose time now if he was going to make partner in the next few years.

Ben had thought that would be the last he’d hear of Caroline, but a succession of emails meant he was fully apprised of her doings. He had received one this morning, which annoyingly had caused a reaction he really thought he’d got beyond by now.

She was working in a bar in California, having a great time. Too busy to write much, she said.
Must
dash, C U!
And then a casual PS:
Attached are some
photos of me and Dave behind the bar
. There were some jpeg attachments, and he opened them to see photo after photo of Caroline with a tall, brawny bloke who had a deep tan – presumably Dave Behind the Bar.

He knew why she’d sent them. It was to make him jealous. She had always flirted with other people when they’d been together. It was one of the many things about her that had made Ben realise he had to walk away. DBtB was probably nothing to Caroline, and she had only sent the picture to get a reaction. He hated himself for having it.

He dug furiously, trying to shake off unwanted images. He didn’t want Caroline any more. If she were here now, she would drive him mad. The trouble was that Caroline, for all her faults, her selfishness and her ego, was also bewitching and dazzling by degrees. And
pathetic as he was, he couldn’t quite get her out from under his skin.

Ben vented his frustration on the ground and dug even harder, while Meg, his black Labrador, sat beside him, panting softly in the late summer heat. It was one of the hottest days of the year so far. Ben stripped off his shirt, and used it to mop his brow. He took a swig of water, and glanced, out of habit as much as anything else, towards Caroline’s garden gate. How many times had he seen her emerge from there, spade in hand, wearing her old gumboots and dressed casually in jeans and T-shirt, effortlessly managing to combine a wild sensuality with an earthy practicality? It was an image that was never far from his thoughts when he came out here.

He was about to turn back to his digging again when the garden gate opened. For a moment his heart leapt – maybe? – before his head kicked in. Caroline was unpredictable, it was true, but even
she
couldn’t make it back from California in under twenty-four hours. Maybe her rather useless letting agents had rented the place at last.

It wasn’t her. But it
was
a woman. And an attractive one at that. Her long fair curls tumbled casually over her shoulders. She was slim and wore a plain strappy summer dress and flat sandals. She had a little boy with her. It was the woman from this morning; the woman whose son he had nearly knocked over. Perhaps they were going to move in. He shook his head. He returned to his digging and dismissed them from his mind.