Two Weddings and a Baby (23 page)

The kitchen was lit only by lamps dotted around and about, and the odd flash of lightning, the last remnants of the storm that Mo somehow seemed to sleep happily through, although it had still taken Tamsyn about eighteen goes to put her into the carrycot without her noticing at once and protesting, vociferously.

By two in the morning, the last of the partygoers had left and the motley crew of remaining house guests were quiet at last, most of them trying to come and take a peek at what Tamsyn was up to on their way to bed, including her mother and sisters. She’d chased her sisters away with threats of making them look fat and frumpy in their dresses, if they crossed her. At last she had the means to control them.

Putting the carrycot down, Tamsyn found a mug and a camomile teabag and waited for the kettle to boil. Which was when she saw the figure lurking below the table. She stifled her scream back into her mouth with her fingers as she realised what she was looking at. It was Jed: Jed was under the table.

Crouching down, Tamsyn couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing. His eyes were wide open and unseeing, his arms clenched tightly around his legs.

‘Jed?’ Glancing at Mo, who still slept, Tamsyn pulled aside a chair and knelt on the floor in front of him. Whatever he was seeing, it wasn’t her, and wherever he thought he was, it wasn’t under a kitchen table. He looked terrified, his teeth were chattering and he seemed to be caught in an endless moment of fear, and it was agonising to watch. Tamsyn dithered, uncertain what to do. Perhaps there was something she could do to soothe him, without shocking him.

Sliding herself under the table, Tamsyn managed to arrange her long limbs so that she was opposite him. Reaching out, she touched his shoulder, withdrawing it when he flinched.

‘Go away,’ he said. ‘Please, Tamsyn, go away. I don’t want you to be here.’

‘No,’ Tamsyn said calmly, this time talking as she touched him, keeping her voice low and soft. ‘No, I’m not going to go away. I don’t understand what’s happening, but I do know when someone needs a friend. So I’m staying.’

Jed buried his face in his knees, his shoulders shaking with dry sobs. What was this?

‘When I was a little girl,’ Tamsyn said, ‘my friend Merryn and I, we used to make camp under tables and pretend we were pirates. Once we tied Cordelia up and put her in the broom cupboard, which might be where her love-of-bondage thing comes from.’ The lightning came again, but this time there were seconds, perhaps as many as ten, before the rumble of thunder. The storm was passing, hopefully for good this time.

‘It’s OK,’ Tamsyn said, running her hand down his arm and repeating the gesture at once. ‘It’s OK, you’re safe. You are safe, and everything is OK.’

Jed looked up at her as she repeated herself over and over again; she saw the fear in his eyes recede a little, his breathing gradually eased and the tension in his muscles slowly dissipated, until finally he rested his forehead on his knees once again and closed his eyes. They stayed like that for a minute or two until she heard his breathing deepen and she guessed he had fallen into a restful sleep. Tamsyn watched what little she could make out of his face in the low light; the straight nose, the precision-cut jaw. He looked so certain, so strong, yet Tamsyn didn’t think she’d ever seen anyone, man, woman or child, as genuinely frightened as Jed had been just then. What had happened to him? What was it that he had come to Poldore to hide from?

‘Jed,’ she said, a little louder. ‘Jed, what’s happening?’

‘Tamsyn,’ He looked at her. ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘I …’ But before Tamsyn could say anything more, Jed had taken her hand from his shoulder and pulled her forward into his arms, virtually onto his lap, put his arms around her waist and held her close to him. Sensing that he needed to know she was real, Tamsyn returned the embrace, winding her arms around his neck, burying her face in his shoulder. It was by no means comfortable; her legs were cramped, her body was twisted at all the wrong angles and yet she didn’t try to move; she didn’t want to. It was impossible to know for how many minutes they stayed like that, wordlessly holding each other under the table in the kitchen of Castle House, and it wasn’t important. All that was important was, as each second passed, Tamsyn could feel Jed’s body relax around hers, and she became aware of the strength in his arms, the muscles under his shirt flexing under her fingertips. Neither one of them moved their hands or touched each other, except for the places where their bodies met, and yet Tamsyn had the overwhelming emotion that this was the most truly intimate moment of her life.

‘Thank you,’ Jed said eventually, making no attempt to release her. ‘I’m so glad it was you who saw me like this, and no one else.’

‘What happened?’ Tamsyn asked him, whispering. ‘You looked so …’

‘Frightened,’ Jed finished the sentence for her. ‘I’m glad it was you, but I also wish it wasn’t you. You are the last person I wanted to see me this way.’

‘What way?’ Tamsyn shifted herself back a little, touching the palm of her hand to his cheek.

‘I thought, I believed that it was over, that I was … They said that there might still be flashbacks, but it’s been so long, I thought they were gone for good. I was wrong.’

‘Jed, what are you trying to hide, because you know, whatever it is, your friends and the people who respect you will feel just the same. Well, unless it turns out you are a licensed to kill, secret MI5 agent. That might change things a little bit.’

Jed managed a small smile, and Tamsyn was so relieved to see it she found herself leaning forward, pressing her lips to his cheek and feeling for one delicious moment the graze of his stubble against her skin.

‘It was my last tour with the army before I left,’ Jed said. ‘In Afghanistan. Us padres, they went to great lengths to keep us out of harm’s way, to keep us safe. I spent most of my time on the base ministering to the troops, and security was tight. Checkpoints, double checkpoints. It was a base near Camp Bastion: the unit I was with were training the local police to take over when the army pulled out. It was a good day. Morale was high, a lot of the lads were about to go home. I was about to go home. I’d enjoyed it. Not many of them were particularly religious, but they liked having me around. They thought of me as their lucky mascot. The bomb-disposal boys would all come and put their hands on the top of my head before they went out. ‘Get a bit of God off the padre,’ they’d say. I always said prayers for them, each one of them, as they rubbed the top of my head …’

He faltered, and Tamsyn found herself entwining her fingers in his, holding his trembling hands steady as she waited for him to continue.

‘One of the guys they’d been training came on duty as usual, and nothing seemed out of the ordinary. There were no signs, none at all, that he’d turned up that day seeking to become a martyr.’

‘He was a suicide bomber?’ Tamsyn asked, her voice barely audible.

Jed nodded. ‘He killed three soldiers. There were five injured, life-altering injuries, they call them. And the noise, you think you know what a bomb is going to sound like from TV or films or news reports, but really you have no idea how very loud it’s going to be, or that the smoke will get so deep in your eyes and your lungs that sometimes you think you can still taste it.’ Jed swallowed.

‘Was it the thunder?’

‘I don’t know, or at least, not only the thunder. You never know what it’s going to be, what’s going to trigger an attack. A smell, a sound. Something you can identify. They say it’s at times of stress and upheaval that you become more sensitive, but I … I thought I was stronger than this. It’s my job to be the strong one.’

‘Oh, Jed,’ Tamsyn gripped his hands a little tighter. ‘Were you injured too?’

‘Some shrapnel, in my legs and back, which meant a few weeks lying on my stomach while I healed, but on the whole I got off lightly, except … Post-traumatic stress disorder they call it, you’ve probably heard of it. I have been luckier than most; I had the support of the church and the army. I did the therapy, took every sort of help they offered, and of course I’ve had my faith, but …’

‘What?’ Tamsyn asked. ‘You can tell me anything.’

‘I looked into the bomber’s eyes, in the seconds before it happened,’ Jed said. ‘I don’t know why, what made me do it, but I did. Our eyes met. And he … all I saw was fear and confusion. And now, if I close my eyes, any time I close my eyes, it’s his face I see, and I don’t understand it, Tamsyn. Never before in my life have I had to question my faith in this way, and what it can do. If it can drive a frightened young man to the worst possible act, then … well, it’s made me question everything. Everything that I believe in. The church sent me to Poldore to recover; they found me a parish that they thought needed some fresh, young energy to shake it up a bit, but somewhere that would be a safe haven for me. They’ve never said so, but they don’t think I’ve got what it takes to go into inner-city parishes any more, or on mission in Africa. They told me to come to Poldore and liven up the congregation, but they knew before I did that the congregation here has always been really strong. It’s one of the few places in the country where that is true. It wasn’t me that saved the people of Poldore. It’s been the people of Poldore that have saved me.’

‘But no one here knows?’ Tamsyn said. ‘About the PTSD?’

‘No,’ Jed said with a look of horror on his face at the very thought, ‘no one except for you and Jeff Dangerfield. He came round for a cup of tea after he and his wife separated and he saw my photos, we got talking. He’s a good man; he’s kept my military past to himself.’

‘But why are you keeping it a secret? It’s nothing to be ashamed of,’ Tamsyn told him. ‘It doesn’t mean you’re weak, or any less good at being a vicar. If anything it makes you more qualified to do the job, because you’ve lived life. You really know about loss. I’m no expert, but I think that probably matters in your job.’

Jed shook his head. ‘I am supposed to be certain, Tamsyn, and strong and steady. I don’t want anyone to know my weakness, how much I dread closing my eyes and seeing it all again. That I spend long, long nights trying to rectify what I feel in my heart with what I know about the world. I’m not the man I should be, the man I want to be. I’m weak. I don’t deserve this town, and the belief and generosity that its people have shown me. I’m broken.’

‘Jed,’ Tamsyn said quietly. ‘You are only a man.’

They looked into each other’s eyes, two bright points of light in the darkness, for a long moment, and Tamsyn wondered what it was that was passing between them, flowing back and forth like a tidal wave of emotion, building in intensity and force with each breath that she took.

Jed reached out to touch her face, and Tamsyn found herself holding completely still as he traced the contours of her jaw with his fingertips, her eyes roaming over the planes and valleys of his mouth, such a very kissable-looking mouth.

Without really knowing what she was doing, she leant forward, pressing her lips to his, just because the longing to feel them under hers was impossible to resist, and because in that moment she felt so close to him that it seemed perfectly natural to want to feel closer still. Tamsyn waited for him to pull away, to resist, for the moment of heat to turn into one of awkward rejection, but her heat beat once, twice and a third time and the moment never came. Instead, Jed looped his fingers into her mass of hair and kissed her, pushing her lips open with his tongue. It was a kiss that Tamsyn realised she was dying to respond to, pressing her body closer against his, under the table. His hands left her hair and she felt the soft planes of his palms soar up her bare back, and her own hands tugged at his shirt to find his warm, golden skin beneath. She began unbuttoning his shirt, pausing only to allow him to lift the grey jumper over her head, and suddenly they were skin to skin, her breasts pressed against his chest, their kisses becoming hungrier and hungrier, and Tamsyn knew that there had never been an embrace like this before in the whole of history, she was certain; that this was a kiss that made sense of the world and everything in it, and that whatever was to follow next would be nothing short of a revelation.

And then Mo’s wail pierced the silence, filling the room with noise, and all of the everyday life of Poldore and reality came crashing back in.

It was Jed who broke the kiss, and at the same time the spell they had both been under, turning his eyes away from her nudity and handing her Cordelia’s jumper as he buttoned his shirt.

‘I need to go,’ he said, pushing the chair out from under the other side of the table and scrambling to his feet, presumably so that he didn’t have to slide past her.

‘Jed?’ Tamsyn called after him, caught in a complex vortex of horror and need. ‘There’s a slight problem. My leg has gone to sleep. I can’t actually move.’

But Jed had gone, rushing off and leaving her stranded, her skin singing from his touch even as it dawned on her how horrified he had been by their encounter, which she guessed was about the same amount as she had been thrilled by it. Feeling deep discomfort in the pit of her stomach, Tamsyn dragged herself and her duff leg out from under the table, as there was some feeling coming back in her toes, and got to the carrycot. At the sight of her, Mo’s cries quietened a little.

‘Oh, Mo,’ Tamsyn said, as she vigorously rubbed at her feet. ‘I know how you feel, darling. I feel like crying too.’

Screams, followed by peals of giggles from the children’s turret, echoed down the corridor. Weary as she was, Tamsyn suddenly felt that she didn’t want to be alone to think about what just had and hadn’t happened, so she climbed the cold stone stairs. She quickly realised that Meadow and the boys’ bedrooms were empty, and she pushed opened Cordelia’s door, which elicited another round of shrieks, through all of which, now full of milk, Mo slept soundly. ‘What’s going on in here?’ Tamsyn asked her. ‘It’s loud enough to wake the dead and it’s nearly four in the morning!’

‘The children were scared of the storm,’ Cordelia told her. ‘So I employed my age-old technique of taking their minds off things that scare them by telling them really, really frightening ghost stories.’