The Things I Know(66)
I know I feel better for saying the words out loud, as if I don’t own them any more, as if they’ve been sent out into the universe.
I know the farm will go and I know we’ll all survive, because, after all, it’s only bricks and animal shit.
I know that I stood up to Emery and, if I stood up to him, I can stand up to just about anything.
I know I will forge a different life.
I know I’m strong enough!
TWELVE
Thomasina closed the chicken run and stood watching her girls, who were about to settle down for the night. They seemed a little morose and she more than understood. The weather on this gloomy evening suited her own mood perfectly, with a dark bruise of a cloud spitting fat droplets of rain like watery bullets that danced on the flagstones and cobbles. It had irked her that her confession to Grayson, summoned from a place where words did not come easily, had been met with silence. It was the opposite of what she thought a boyfriend would do and the disappointment rankled – another sharp reminder that this love business was all well and good but, ultimately, the only person she could really rely on was herself. And Buddy, but he didn’t really count.
Her phone rang in her pocket as she pulled up the collar of her Barbour and shivered at the encroaching chill. It was Grayson.
‘Hello, you.’ She spoke with as much enthusiasm as she could muster.
‘Hey, Thomasina.’
‘I’m glad you’ve called. I’ve felt a bit . . .’ She struggled with how to phrase the complex knot of thoughts that bothered her.
‘A bit what?’
‘I don’t know. But thank you for listening earlier. I feel better that I told you all that stuff, I really do, and it’s okay that you don’t feel the need to comment. I get it – it’s not a pleasant topic, and I’m fine, or at least I will be.’
‘That’s good.’ He paused. ‘I wanted to ask you something.’
‘Ask away!’ She hated the mock-enthusiasm she used; it felt shallow, insincere. And she hated even more the fact that it was Grayson whom she was trying to convince that everything was ‘absolutely fine’.
‘Does Emery still call you names?’ He spoke slowly and with a gravitas that removed the smile from her face. ‘Because when he said those things he was no more than a kid himself, really, and that’s no excuse, but it might help explain it – ignorance, fear, trying to impress his friends . . . I don’t know, Thomasina, I really don’t, but what I’m trying to understand is if he has been any kinder to you over the years since?’
‘Not really,’ she replied bluntly. ‘It’s as if he set a pattern of behaviour that he doesn’t know how to break free from.’ She remembered when he’d come down the stairs in the morning with the words, ‘Morning, ugly dog. Morning, Buddy!’ ‘I think he might find it funny, but I don’t.’
‘Because it’s not funny and it’s not okay. I hate bullies,’ he spat.
‘Me too,’ she whispered, thankful for his show of emotion at last, which felt a lot like support. ‘It’s cold here, grey and miserable.’
‘Yes. At least you’ve got your Barbour on, but a hat wouldn’t go amiss.’
‘How do you know I’ve got my . . .’ Before she had a chance to finish her sentence, she looked up towards the yard. Her heart booming with a fierce mixture of happiness and excitement, she saw Grayson leaning casually against a wall with his satchel over his chest, chatting on the phone.
Thomasina ran to him and, in those seconds, it didn’t matter that it was raining or that the sky was a dull, dull grey – she felt full of sunshine!
‘Oh my God!’ She jumped up and flung her arms around his neck. ‘What are you doing here?’ she squealed, before smothering his face with kisses.
‘I wanted to see you.’
Thomasina let her arms slide from his neck. ‘You wanted to see me?’
‘Yep.’ He nodded, as if it really were that simple. ‘I wanted to see you and hold you in my arms and tell you that I hate what Emery and his friends said and did and that you’re not to give them one more day, not one. Put it out of your head, because you’re perfect. Perfect for me.’
Reaching up, she smoothed his wonkily cut, overly long fringe from his forehead. ‘You have no idea, Grayson. It means the world that you came all this way.’ She felt quite overwhelmed at his gesture. ‘Come on, let’s go inside. I’m wet through.’
She led him by the hand across the path towards the house. The kitchen was empty. They left their wet boots and coats by the door next to Buddy’s basket, who now beat his tail on the floor to greet his new friend. She liked how Grayson bent to pet his head without the reticence that had initially bordered on fear. The two went into the dusty snug with its lingering scent of a real fire and an abundance of squashed cushions and discarded newspapers. Thomasina struck a match to the fire Pops had laid and they settled back on the tapestry-covered sofa that was older than she was – another relic of family history, part of the fabric of life on Waycott Farm. Again she felt the bite of nostalgia, missing every bit of the place before it was even sold. As the flames took hold, the kindling fizzed and the logs began to crack and pop, the two stretched their toes towards the flames and Thomasina leaned her head on Grayson’s shoulder, sighing with a deep and new-found sense of well-being.