The Catalyst (5 page)

Chapter 5

Jenny Lawrence had had enough. In reality she had had much more than enough. She had suspected Jimmy was messing around as usual but finding an explicit email describing a gasp-by-gasp cyber-sex session in the business mail from yet another over-sexed tart would not have been how she would have wanted to have her worst fears confirmed.

Desperate to get away from his lying face she had driven into Dehwelyans in a fury of red-hot blood and ragged breathing, frightened by the intensity of her anger. She had never remembered feeling quite as furious as this before, even in the early days of their relationship when she realised what living with Jimmy Fisher was really all about. When his ‘flings’, as he called them, had started.

In the early days she had usually been distraught rather than angry at his callous openness, his lack of willingness to hide the fact that he would be away for a night or two. Although he never said where he was going the smell of cheap perfume was the giveaway and he would never take the trouble to deny her accusations.

Gradually she became aware he felt he was behaving respectfully to her if the other woman was not actually sitting down to breakfast with them but leaving him had somehow never seemed to be a viable option even though she could not have explained why.

So she had waited for the years to pass and for him to settle down into staid middle age and it was true that in time he had become a little more sensitive to her feelings. The affairs had not stopped but he had learned to be more discreet for her sake and, pathetically, she had welcomed his obvious lies and clumsy subterfuges. She wondered now if she would ever have gone to live with him if she had known he was a serial seducer when they first met.

Her loneliness had been so overwhelming and she had loved him so much that she suspected she would still have wanted to share his life. Judging by her anger today she guessed her feelings were still the same, unless it was a sign she had finally reached the end of her tolerance of him.

She just really could not analyse how she felt about him at this moment but she was uncomfortably aware he might think nothing of trading her in permanently sometime for a younger, prettier model.

Just as she was thinking she dare not let herself think about that she felt an ominous jolt as she reversed into a parking space in the narrow street outside Sacha’s coffee house and realised she had hit the kerb. Embarrassed, and knowing she should really have been concentrating on her driving, she pulled out again to get a better line and was immediately aware of a car horn, sharp and peremptory, behind her.

Glancing over her shoulder she saw a momentary blaze of headlights on a silver Mercedes and realised she had pulled out without looking. Hot-faced and hating the way she felt she had been caught as the stereotypical woman driver she waved and mouthed her apologies before reversing neatly into the space and turning off the engine. The mistake had ruffled her even more and she sat there struggling for calm.

A knock on her window made her jump and she was aware of a man standing beside her car. What in the name of arse does he want, she wondered, correctly suspecting it was the driver of the Mercedes. The last thing she felt she needed today was a smug dressing down about her driving from some patronising man but she forced herself to get out of the car to confront him, aware of a strange weakness in her knees.

‘I’m so sorry … I ...’ She tried to rein in her rising temper even as she apologised, anticipating his reaction. She fumbled with her car keys, trying to put them in her handbag but dropping them in the road instead.

‘I’m not...’ the man replied.

It was not the response she was expecting and startled she looked closer at him as he picked up her keys for her and handed them back. There was something instantly familiar about him and a tentative hope took hold of her, one she hardly dare acknowledge in case she was mistaken. He smiled mischievously at her as he watched her puzzle with the memories.

‘Perhaps you should try to remember who I am somewhere where we won’t get run over?’ He took hold of her elbow and gently edged her onto the pavement.

‘Jasper? Is it really you?’ For no good reason she could fathom, her eyes filled with tears and she hastily dashed them away. ‘Sorry … it’s been a bad day so far.’

The shock of seeing him so unexpectedly after all these years had brought on the tears and immediately she was angry again, this time with herself. What a stupid reaction, she thought, I have so much to ask him and all I can do is cry.

‘It’s lovely to see you, Jen.’ Although he tactfully said nothing about her tears his kind words brought even more to her eyes and she tried to blink them away to stop them falling.

‘Oh, Jazz, you too … you have no idea.’ She wished she could think of something cool and amusing to say instead of weeping like an idiot. She was also uncomfortably aware that he looked very prosperous. It didn’t take a fashion designer’s eye to realise the childhood friend standing in front of her had done very well for himself since he left to work in London. Everything about him shouted money in the discreet way of the seriously wealthy.

‘You look … just wonderful.’

Realising belatedly she had spoken her thoughts aloud, she covered her mouth with her hand as if to stop any more gauche remarks escaping. He looked down at his feet and chuckled and she was suddenly aware her heedless comment had pleased as well as embarrassed him.

‘As you can see, I still haven’t grown any tact whilst you’ve been away,’ she said with a grimace.

‘Wouldn’t have it any other way, Jen … your outspokenness was always one of your best assets … along with those amazing …’ he paused and looked obviously at her chest before looking into her face again, ‘ … eyes.’

She laughed and the emotion in the air eased a little. ‘You’re still a cheeky bugger then, Jasper Carne.’

‘And you’re still a beautiful girl, Jennifer Lawrence.’

The smoothness of his flattering comment somehow shifted the delicate balance of the old familiarity between them and there was an awkward pause. She tried not to acknowledge a vague disappointment at this change in him, hoping that making flippant and suggestive remarks was not commonplace to him now.

She knew she was far from beautiful and his flattery had made her uncomfortable. He doesn’t need to do this with me, she thought before getting annoyed with herself again for analysing something so trivial.

For his part, Jasper had instantly berated himself for his mistake. The now-habitual flirtatious patter he used with the sophisticated women of his acquaintance felt totally inappropriate with Jenny. He was relieved by her next suggestion.

‘Come on, let me buy you coffee.’ Eager to get back to some much lighter level she grabbed his hand and impulsively pulled him into Sacha’s.

The time passed quickly and Jenny was aware people were looking, not at her but at Jasper. He looked out of place in his city suit amongst the ripped jeans and baggy fleece tops. The close-cropped steel grey hair and rimless glasses added to his air of expensiveness as much as the outrageous masculinity of the heavy-duty watch that glinted from beneath a crisp white cuff. There was no sign now of the scruffy, anxious teenager with the abusive home life she had befriended as a girl and she felt inordinately proud to be his friend.

She was well aware of the stares of the other women in the coffee house as well as the studious ignoring of him by the young men who were also there. Beneath their youthful nonchalance the envy was almost palpable. She allowed herself a small smile as she rested her elbows on the table and cradled her cup with both hands. The smile had been seen and was, apparently, infectious.

‘So ... ’ he grinned at her over the top of his cappuccino, ‘are you married with lots of kids, Jen?’

She was sure he would have noted the ringless fingers on her left hand but she answered lightly.

‘Me? No. You?’

His laugh was no more than a private breath of hidden secrets.

‘Noooo … plenty of women, I suppose you could say … but none of them seemed right somehow.’ He gave a faint shrug. ‘I do live with someone … mainly because she wants it that way … she’s a nice girl ...’ A ‘but’ lingered in the air between them and he was aware of her look of enquiry, ‘but I don’t think it’s ... lurve.’ The heavy mockery covered his embarrassment at the word.

It had been many years since they had confided closely in each other as teenagers. They had needed each other then. She had tended the wounds from the casual brutality he received from his father and older brother and he had held her hand as she cried over dead pets and her parent’s indifference to her.

‘But what about you, Jen? Surely someone must have snapped you up?’ His eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled at her and she wanted to stroke the kindliness of his face. Why couldn’t he be Jimmy? Why couldn’t Jimmy be this kind?

‘Well, yes, I do live with someone, Jazz. It’s not someone you know though,’ she said, anticipating his next question. ‘He is … he’s...’

She thought about Jimmy. Yes, just what was he? His total lack of concern at the emotional pain he repeatedly caused her renewed her anger. More than that she became aware she was embarrassed and ashamed of herself for staying with such a man and letting him treat her like some sort of inconsequential drudge.

All of a sudden, as she struggled to find something positive to say about Jimmy, she was aware of her own collusion in her situation, aware of the times she had allowed herself to be deluded into thinking he cared for her.

Now, knowing Jasper was watching her expression thoughtfully, she wanted to tell him about her life with Jimmy. She could never have told anyone else the truth of how she lived, and indeed she had never confided in anyone since Jasper had left all those years ago. Only now was she was suddenly aware of the burden she had carried ever since she had met Jimmy bloody Fisher.

‘Do you think we could go somewhere more private?’ She was aware her request could be misread and she was annoyed to feel her face redden. She was grateful to him for the fact that even if it sounded as if he was being propositioned he did not let it show.

‘Okay, how about my place?’ He read her face and laughed. ‘Sorry ... I’m confusing you. I meant my home down here ... not my home in London. You know … the farm.’

‘What! The farm? You’ve got to be joking!’ She frowned at him in confusion.

‘Nope ... it’s true. I own it now ... it came to me after Jem died.’

A brief silence between them acknowledged that they both knew Jeremy Carne, Jasper’s elder brother, had recently died a totally predictable alcohol induced death but Jenny was also wondering how Jasper could bear to go back to such a place of remembered violence and unhappiness.

‘Well, the fact is the farm was always mine, not Jem’s. Dad left it to me when he died and I let Jem live at the farm and run it ... or rather, run it into the ground. It wasn’t a good move, but I couldn’t be bothered to come down and fight with him about it. So he let it get run-down. The poor old place is a bit of a wreck now, I’m afraid. I think Dad left it to me because he knew Jem would ruin it. I don’t think he expected me to let Jem stay on there.’

‘Or maybe he felt he owed you that much after driving you away!’ Even after all this time her indignation could still be roused on his behalf. He smiled at her ruefully.

‘I used to love the place when Mum was alive. It was a wonderful home then. You know, it struck me, once I’d got away, it was just that Dad couldn’t run the farm and look after Jem and me as well after Mum died. When Jem got too big to take his anger out on … and would probably have given as good as he got anyway there was only me to get mad at.’

He laughed shortly but there was little genuine humour in it. Jenny said nothing, thinking only of the mental and physical pain Jasper had endured there and wondering if such a cool and simplistic explanation could really ease his emotional pain. He seemed, on the face of it, to have come to terms with his past but it was hard to be sure. His words seemed nothing more than some form of Band-Aid to stop the reopening of an old stab wound to the heart.

‘Anyway, I thought I would renovate it and use it for holidays ... maybe let it out to holidaymakers.’

Even as he spoke his mind had already moved on to wondering why Jenny wanted to talk to him in private. He was shrewd enough to know she needed to tell him something important to her and he guessed it was something to do with the brittle state she was in at the moment. Her easy tears of earlier spoke of some sort of extreme distress and he had hidden his alarm at the sight of them.

The Jenny Lawrence he remembered had long since given up on tears, finding refuge in anger instead. He suspected she needed to talk through some sort of crisis with him and wondered if he would still feel the need to help her as he had done when they were young.

He knew the answer to that almost before he had finished thinking it, knowing that if she needed help he would help her. That was how it would be, it was how it had always been between them and despite the intervening years he knew he wouldn’t hesitate. He had let her down long ago by defecting to London, he wouldn't let her down now.

He had been stunned to see her again, not liking to admit to himself he had been cruising the narrow streets of Dehwelyans at length in the hope of seeing her. He had had no need to linger in the town once his meeting with the family solicitor was concluded and he hadn’t needed to get out of his car when he saw her. He knew she had not seen him but everything within his chest had constricted at the sight of her and he had known he could not just pass her by.