Page 95 of A Fresh Start at Bramble Cottage
“No, Jeremy.”
“Don’t answer at once. Think about it.”
“I don’t need to think about it.”
“Vicky, please.” He reached across the table and tried to take her hand. “Don’t throw it all away, what we had. I mean it when I say I love you.”
“I’m sure you do — or at least you think you do.” She drew her hand back out of reach. “But it’s over, Jeremy. I’m not going to change my mind.”
His mouth thinned, and for a moment she thought he was going to persist with the argument. Instead he smiled suddenly, and poured himself another large glass of wine. “This is a particularly fine Merlot, don’t you think? I got a whole crate from Freddie Lester, at quite a decent price.”
“That’s good.” Hmm — change of subject. She knew him well enough to recognise his usual tactic — divert the conversation from the bone of contention, then come back to it later.
He had quickly regained his usual easy confidence. “I always get a good deal. I always get what I want, in the end.”
She returned him a level look.
“Well, I mean... most things. I wasn’t referring to us getting back together. I wouldn’t expect... I wouldn’t take that for granted. I just hope... well, just think about it.”
“Jeremy, I told you — I don’t need to think about it. I’ve made up my mind — in fact I’d decided before finding out about you and Jayde. I realised we were going in different directions — we want different things. Let’s just accept that, and settle for being friends.”
His eyes flashed with anger and he drained his wine glass in one gulp, and poured himself another.
“That’s your fifth glass. You’re not going to be able to drive anywhere tonight.” Her voice was taut with impatience. “You’d better stay.”
The glint of triumph in his eyes fuelled her suspicion that he had deliberately drunk too much so that she would be forced to let him stay. As he said, he usually got what he wanted.
But if he thought he was going to share her bed, he would learn his mistake. “I’ll make up the bed for you in the spare room. I won’t be a minute.”
She slipped away upstairs. It was late — well past eleven o’clock. It was unlikely that Tom would come now. But she would see him tomorrow. That thought gave her a warm feeling in her heart.
Tomorrow . . .
* * *
But Tom didn’t come.
Vicky had seen a hungover Jeremy off after breakfast, hoping he wasn’t still over the limit from last night’s wine. She had filled the dishwasher and done some laundry, then gone down to Debbie’s for lunch before heading to the hotel for her afternoon shift.
She was singing as she pottered around the kitchen preparing a Thai curry for dinner — Tom’s favourite. But as the evening ticked by he didn’t appear. Eventually she ate her curry alone at the kitchen table, then sat down to watch some television — alone.
It was odd — she hadn’t minded being alone those first few weeks after she had come down here. She had enjoyed being able to pick any film she liked from Netflix or being able to concentrate on her writing.
But even in the short time since that first night with Tom, she had got used to him being there, to snuggle up with on the sofa or in bed.
The film ended, and she checked her phone again — no messages. Should she ring him? No — she had promised herself that she wouldn’t be the needy girlfriend. Besides, he might be busy — there could be more than one of the cows having a difficult birth, or new calves needing a lot of attention.
Instead she settled in her workroom and turned on her computer to crack on with the chapter she was working on. But somehow she couldn’t concentrate. She was too conscious of the slow movement of the hands of the clock on the wall above her desk.
She stayed up until almost one o’clock in the morning — but he didn’t come.
The next morning she woke alone. That in itself wasn’t unusual — Tom often left for milking before she woke. But there would be a warm dent in the pillow beside her, the unique male scent of his skin lingering on the sheets.
But today there was nothing — and the scent was fading.
Maybe she should walk up to the farm and see if he was there. On the pretext of a casual visit to Pam. No — maybe not. He’d see right through that. Just be patient — be sensible.
Or... maybe he didn’t want to see her today. Maybe the initial gloss of their relationship was wearing off already and he wanted ‘space’.
