The Things I Know(35)
‘After your parents have died?’
‘Yes.’ She cursed the sting at the back of her throat. ‘And that’s assuming my brother Jonathan doesn’t come home. Which I hope he will.’
‘Do you think he will – come home, that is?’
She shook her head, recalling the tone of his postcard: happy, settled, home . . . ‘I don’t know. I kid myself that he will. I talk as though he will, but truthfully, I think he’s made a life in the sunshine and that’s where he might choose to stay, more’s the pity. I don’t like the set-up at Waycott Farm right now.’
‘So it’s all about Emery?’
‘Not all, no, but it’s a lot about him. He doesn’t deserve Waycott and he’s such a pig to me. I see the way he laughs behind my dad’s back and I could thump him!’
‘Do your mum and dad know how you feel?’ he asked.
Hitch closed her eyes briefly and could smell the cranberries bubbling away on the top of the range, her mum stirring the vast, blackened pot with a wooden spoon and tipping in cups of brown sugar with her spare hand. She saw her ten-year-old self twisting her good foot into the flagstones as she sought out the words.
‘Mummy . . .’
‘What?’
‘I don’t like Emery.’
‘Don’t be daft, little one, he’s your cousin and he’s not going anywhere. He’ll pop up like a bad penny every Christmas, birthday, Easter, wedding and funeral, so you’d best get used to him!’
She tasted the salt of her tears, which clogged her nose and throat, speaking quickly, looking over her shoulder, lest he should be lurking.
‘He’s mean to me.’
‘All boys are mean. Just ignore him!’
‘But . . . he . . . he’s really, really mean to me, Mum. He calls me names and he does an impression of my voice . . .’
‘For the love of God, Hitch! Go and play nicely! He’s your cousin and we don’t get to choose our kin, and when all is said and done he would stand up for you, he would! I’ll have a little word with him if you want . . .’
She blinked away the memory of that day when she had tried to explain just how much it hurt her to hear Emery’s jibes and how every moment in his company was spent with a knot of ugly anticipation in her gut, waiting to see what he said or did next. It was one thing to hear the cruel taunts of the kids at school and strangers, but quite another to hear it from Emery, kin, in her home, her refuge.
‘I think they know how I feel – I find it hard to lie about my feelings – but I don’t think they fully know how much it bothers me.’ She sighed deeply. ‘I just want more, Grayson.’
‘More what?’
Hitch shook her head and concentrated on the road, wary of another vehicle coming in the opposite direction, which would mean she had to pull into a lay-by or mount the verge.
‘Just more. My own life. My own kitchen. It’s as if my parents have set my boundaries, and I know they mean well, but . . .’
‘It can be stifling.’ He finished the sentence with a faraway look on his face and she wondered about his mum, who was not ill, but needy.
Quiet filled the car and, for the first time since Mr Grayson Potts had arrived, she wondered if this was a good idea – what had Emery said about ‘fraternising with the guests’? What did she think was going to happen? By this time tomorrow he’d be gone and she would be alone again, walking, pacing, working and thinking, and the loss of him, this man who had all of her attention, this man she was opening up to, well, it might just be harder to live with the gap he was going to leave behind than if he had never arrived.
She swung the Subaru into the car park and jumped down from the cab. Chew Valley Lake was peaceful, even the water calm. Birds pecked for morsels in the shallows, shaking their feathers like preening ballerinas to keep dry. Gulls squawked overhead and the air was heavy with the threat of rain brewing in the clouds that gathered ominously overhead, spreading a dark bruise over the day. It threatened to further dampen the mood.
‘This is incredible!’ Grayson’s enthusiasm rekindled the bright spark of happiness within her. There was something intoxicating about his excitement. It made her forget her maudlin reflections and enjoy the moment.
‘Look – a fish just jumped! This place is brilliant.’ He walked with a slight skip to his gait.
‘I can’t imagine not having places like this to come to when you want to clear your head. Can’t imagine living in a big city. I bring Bud up here sometimes.’
‘There are places to walk in the city – lakes, ponds and a path along the river. And out where I live, near the Isle of Dogs, there’s been a lot of regeneration because it’s where some of the Olympics were held.’
‘Of course.’ Hitch remembered the velodrome and the swimming events that she had watched on the small, temperamental TV in the kitchen. ‘But you still don’t go out walking?’
‘No, I have a very different life to this usually. I keep my head down and I get on with it.’
‘Same. My mum couldn’t believe it when I told her I was having a couple of hours off!’ She smiled at him, as thunder rolled in the distance and a fork of lightning split the dark sky, flashing bright and orange, like a brief flourish of peach flesh. ‘D’you want to go and get fish and chips or carry on walking in the rain?’