sUnwanted Truthst (24 page)

She walked slowly up and down – the sign squeaking as she passed under it – unsure whether or not to go inside. On unsteady legs she stepped into the tiled entrance and pushed the door into the saloon bar. She caught her breath. He was standing and smiling at her from behind a small round table at the end of the room.

‘Hello Jenny, sit down, I was wondering whether you might have had second thoughts about coming.'

So he had thought that too
. Her mouth was parched. She couldn't find the breath to speak, so smiled, and took her coat off, draping it on the back of the chair.

‘What can I get you? A drink, or would you rather have a tea or coffee?'

‘No, I think I'd rather have a drink,' she gulped to moisten her mouth, ‘a lemonade shandy please.'

Her heart slowed and she noticed there were only two other people in the bar. She stared at Martin as he waited to be served. His straight dark hair rested on the collar of his jacket, while a side-parting forced his hair to flop over his forehead. He was slim, not too tall – about five eleven. Under a dark cord jacket, his shoulders were broad and slightly hunched. He had the look of an academic. The more she stared, the stronger her body reacted. It screamed for her to reach out and touch him. It was hard to carry on a normal conversation. She had been attracted to men before – including Robert – but it had a gentler quality, not this frightening intensity. Was that why she had run away from the churchyard last November? Was this love or lust? How would she know? Men always said they knew the difference. As he carried the drinks to their table, she noticed a dark polo-necked jumper and blue jeans.
He doesn't look as if he's come straight from work.

‘Here we are.'

Her hand shook slightly as she took her glass.

‘So, where have you got to go for your class?' He sat opposite her.

‘Oh, farther down the High Street, at St. Michael's church, where the large clock overhangs the road. Apparently there's a hall there.'

‘Yes, I know it. Not far away then.' He started drinking from his pint glass.

‘No, I've brought a notebook and pen to make some notes.'
Oh my God
,
that sounds so childish
.

‘That's very industrious of you.' The skin around his eyes crinkled as he teased her. ‘I only realised after you'd driven away last week, that I didn't know your married name.'

So he had thought that too. ‘It's Maynard – my husband's Robert – Robert Maynard. His family come from Brighton. We lived here in Lewes when we were first married. Then when Robert went to work for Brighton Council, we moved. We live near Preston Village now. What about you? You said that you changed your job.'

‘Yes, about a year ago. I'd been at the same bank since transferring from Brighton. Financially life was good. The low staff interest rates meant that we could easily afford a large house. But, my heart wasn't in the job. I didn't want to feel like that for the next thirty years, staying there, just for the benefits and a pension. That would have been a living death. So about seven years ago I started an open university course, studying in my spare time. I'd always been interested in the countryside so, once I graduated I applied to be a countryside ranger.'

‘Where?'

‘The Seven Sisters Country Park.'

‘Oh,'
so that explains the Land Rover
, she thought.

‘You look surprised.'

‘Well, it's certainly different from working in a bank.'

‘Yes, it is. The money's a lot less of course, and our house is tiny compared to our old one. But I'm much happier. I don't work nine to five, and I'm virtually my own boss. Also I was pleased to come back this way. My father's on his own since Mum died, so I can see him more often. Anna – my sister – she still lives in Southampton. Marilyn was marvellous about the move. She comes from the New Forest. Her family are all still down there.'

Jenny winced at his mention of his wife.

‘You don't look any older to me, Jenny. I've always thought about you and wondered what you were doing.' Martin smiled and put his glass on a beer mat that advertised a local brewery.

Jenny updated him on her life since leaving school and then added, ‘I've just finished a part-time course in accountancy and law at the technical college,' her voice trembled.

‘That's good. Is that what you do at the moment?'

‘Well, yes, I suppose I do, only part-time though. I'd like to do more once Nicky, our youngest, is a bit older.' Jenny sipped her drink.

‘How old is he?'

‘He's nine, and Lorna's nearly twelve, she starts high school in September.'

‘You know Jenny, I probably shouldn't say this, but I was hoping that I might see you again – in the churchyard.'

Her spirit leapt. She smiled and wondered if she should say something similar, but decided not to.

‘Who's taking your class tonight, I might know him?'

‘Andrew Jones.'

‘Yes, we've spoken on the phone a few times. He works for the R.S.P.B. at Shoreham. It should be interesting.'

‘So, you live near Lewes then?' Jenny blushed as she recalled how she had looked in the telephone directory.

‘Yes, at Ringmer, on the main road, I cut over the Downs by Glyndebourne. Then it's about twenty minutes to the Country Park. Daniel's at the community college, in the village. We would have preferred the school here, in Lewes, but there were no vacancies. He's doing well though, so we're pleased.'

Jenny bit her lip, she would have to leave soon.

‘My sister always does that when she's worried.'

‘Does what?'

‘Bites her lower lip.'

She blushed as she thought he might know what she was thinking. ‘I'd better go.' Jenny lifted her glass and drained the last few drops. She stood up and lifted her coat from the back of her chair.

‘Yes, you can't be late for the first class.' Martin smiled sardonically and took her coat, holding it open for her. She was aware of him behind her as she put her arms through the sleeves. She didn't want to move.

They left the warmth of the bar, and met the chill of the spring evening. ‘I'll walk you to your car.'

‘I'm just over there,' Jenny pointed to her car. ‘Where did you park?' she asked, thinking how unnatural she sounded.

‘There's a small area at the back. I managed to get a space,' he paused, ‘Jenny, how do you feel about meeting up again, same time next week? I'd be interested to hear about your class.'

He does want to
, she thought, relieved that he had spoken the words she was unable to.

‘Yes, I'd like that too. The time went too quickly, didn't it?' Jenny said as she rummaged in her handbag for the key.

Martin grinned and held the car door open. ‘You should be able to park down there, this time in the evening. I'll see you next Tuesday then, same place.'

*

‘What's happening to me?' Jenny asked herself. She whispered the words while washing the breakfast dishes, while driving to work, while cooking the evening meal, and thought it when she sat beside Robert on the sofa and watched the evening news. She wondered how she could prevent her excitement from bursting forth. Jenny had on her own admission, always been a “news freak”, thinking that women who didn't take an interest in anything outside their domestic world, were shallow and parochial. Now, here she was, watching the escalation of war in the South Atlantic, men and boys being killed, families mourning their losses, and all she could think about was another man – she was no better than the women she had always despised.

*

When Jenny entered the saloon bar the following Tuesday, her face dropped. The corner table was empty. Oh, no, what should she do? Leave, or order a drink and wait? Glancing quickly at the barman, who had his back to her, she turned on her new heels and walked towards the door. She would wait in her car until she could see him arrive.

‘Jenny, where are you going?' Martin's darkened outline appeared in the doorway.

‘Oh, I left something in my car, but it doesn't matter.' Relief flooded through her. She smiled at him, and turned around.

‘I'm sorry I was late, there was an accident on the A27. I was worried I'd be even later. The tailback went right back to Firle.' He wiped the palm of his hand across his forehead. ‘I could do with a drink.'

‘I'll buy them this time,' said Jenny.

‘No, you sit down. I'll get them, same as last week?'

‘Yes please.'

‘So how did the first class go?' Jenny felt his fingers gently brush against her own as she took her glass. Martin stood and gulped a quarter of his glass before sitting opposite her.

‘It was good, I enjoyed it. There's about fifteen of us. Andrew spoke a little about the various habitats, and how they were formed. Then he showed us a few slides. He plans to go into each habitat in more depth, it's downland this week.'

‘He's bound to mention the Seven Sisters, although he might leave it until he covers the coast.' Martin took another gulp of his drink. ‘That's better.' He smiled across the table at Jenny and fumbled in his coat pocket. ‘Do you mind if I smoke?'

‘ Jenny was taken aback. She had assumed that he didn't smoke.

‘No,' she said, remembering how she had pestered Robert to give up when the children were small.

‘I don't smoke a lot, just socially, normally with a drink to relax. Daniel hates it. I've promised him I'll give up soon.' He offered the open packet to Jenny.

She had a vision of a boy – a younger version of Martin – vehemently taking his father to task.

‘No, thank you, I don't, not now. I did for a while when I was younger – everybody did didn't they? But I gave up when I was expecting Lorna.'

She thought of her daughter's indignation at anything she decided was an unsuitable activity for parents. She certainly wouldn't approve of her mother sitting here.

‘Very sensible, I shall have to follow your example, won't I?' He smiled his teasing smile and flicked his lighter. He inhaled deeply, leant back in his chair and stared at Jenny.

‘So what does Robert do?'

‘He works in the Highways Office.'

‘Is he interested in the countryside?'

‘No, not really, but he makes an effort because of me; his main hobby is model railways – there's one in our cellar – and he plays cricket sometimes. He's in the work's team. Is, is – Marilyn interested?' Jenny forced herself to say her name.

‘Not really, she's a sporty girl. She represented Hampshire when she was younger – athletics. That's how we met. I used to do some DJ-ing in a pub in the evenings, and she and some others came in for a drink. She doesn't participate anymore, but enjoys taking Daniel to events. He's inherited her sporting ability, so she's kept busy driving him around at weekends. Most Saturdays she's gone all day. You have to do it for them, don't you?'

‘I remember when you said you were saving up for a guitar.'

‘Yes, I've still got it. I give it a strum now and then.'

‘My father taught me the names of all the capital cities when I was young.'

‘Capital cities? That's different.' Martin gave her a quizzical look.

‘Yes, I know. I've never forgotten them. I've – we've manage to visit a few – Paris; Dublin; Edinburgh; Bonn and earlier this year we went to Cairo.'

‘Cairo? That's impressive. You are well travelled. I haven't been outside the UK, Marilyn's never been that keen. I've been to Scotland though, and Ireland. You haven't been to Rome then? My dad's family come from a small town near there.'

‘I hope to, in a few years.'

‘I'm sure you will.' He gave an amused smile that implied more than the spoken words.

Jenny melted into the moment, she felt invisible. If someone who knew her had walked into the bar, she felt that they wouldn't see or recognise her.

‘Were your parents involved in an accident? Only I noticed, on their cross, that they died close together. I'm sorry, I shouldn't ask you.' He suddenly looked solemn.

‘No, it's alright; they both had cancer, although my mother was ill for much longer than my father. I think it was the shock of losing her that caused him to die so soon after. But now, I think it was for the best. He would have hated living on his own, he never had. Before he was married he was in the army. He wouldn't even cook a meal for himself.'

‘That must have been hard for you.'

‘I couldn't have managed without Robert. I don't have any brothers or sisters.'

‘My mother died of cancer too. She ignored the symptoms, said it was nothing, so by the time she went to the doctor it had spread too far. She was only in her early sixties.'

‘Did your aunt live very long?'

‘My aunt?' he looked puzzled.

‘Yes, she was seriously ill. That's why you moved back to Southampton, so your mother could look after her.'

‘Oh, yes, she did die, but not ‘til quite a few years later.'

Jenny glanced at her watch. ‘I'll have to go now.'

‘Yes, we mustn't dwell on unhappy times, must we? Life's too short. Go and enjoy your class.' He lifted her coat from the back of the chair.

His hand briefly touched her shoulder as he helped her into her coat.

‘I don't really need a coat this evening. It's warm for late April,' Jenny said as they crossed the road towards her car.

‘Yes, the swifts will soon be here. They usually arrive at the Cuckmere on May 4
^th
.'

Jenny turned to Martin as he walked by her side. ‘You mean they arrive on the same day every year?'

‘Yes, nearly always.'

‘That's amazing. I love seeing the swifts.'

*

Their next two meetings followed the same pattern. Jenny felt more relaxed in his presence, but still couldn't eat more than a mouthful of food before leaving home, and her heart still wanted to leap out of her chest as she stepped into the pub. But once she glimpsed Martin, it soon returned to a slower rhythm. He would have a drink waiting for her, and ask about the previous week's class, and she would enjoy sharing her newly acquired knowledge. They would discover a little more about each other's lives; each revelation a strand of invisible thread connecting them to each other. Martin told how his grandfather had come to London as a young man with his wife and baby son before the First World War. How he had sold ice creams from a bicycle before buying a café with his cousin. His father, born a year after they arrived in England, had met his mother on a day trip to Southampton just before the start of the Second World War. They married and set up home in Brighton to escape the bombing. Jenny then told him about her parents' early lives, pleased that she could tell him, that they too, had been brought up in London, and later moved to Sussex.