Page 92 of Winter at Wishington Bay
An extra commotion from outside the shop caused me to turn and peer through the shop window’s display. Great. This was just what I needed.
‘Ned, I have to go. Thanks so much for ringing, and I’m really sorry about the disruption.’
‘No apology needed. Just look after yourself, Soph, and keep in touch.’
‘I will. I promise.’
‘Now who’s this?’ Flora said, coming to stand next to me as the cameras now focused on the silver Bentley that had double parked on the pavement opposite. The door was flung open and Jeremy, looking more red-faced than ever, hauled himself out.
‘That,’ I said, letting out a sigh, ‘is my ex-husband.’
27
I bent and kissed Flora on the cheek before hugging her close. ‘You know where I am,’ she said, as I began to pull away. I nodded against her, afraid that replying verbally to her kindness might fracture the fragile dam I had built to stem my emotions. Stepping back, I smoothed my hair again, took a deep breath and unlocked the shop door, heading back out into the fray.
For a moment the cameras and shouted questions remained focused on Jeremy. He was dressed far too casually for his own comfort, in clothes at least two decades too young for him. This was a man who had dressed his entire life like he’d stepped out from the covers ofHorse and Hound. I was pretty sure even his nappies had been tweed. And yet, here he was, attempting to discreetly adjust his too-tight jeans and looking as out of place in the clothes as he did in the village. For a moment I felt a pang of something akin to pity for him. Perhaps being without anyone was better than pretending to be something, and someone you weren’t, just to make a person like you, and want to be with you. I knew from experience that pretence wasn’t a sustainable way of living. It only took you so far – and yes, you could carry on like that for years – but it didn’t make you happy. And at some point, when you least expect it, everything falls to pieces anyway. Thoughts of Nate filtered through, and I had a feeling that he could testify to the same experience. But I was done with pretence. That had been my path for far too long and never would be again.
Jeremy was now blustering his way through the pack of media clustered round my front door, before beginning to hammer on it with the side of his fist. Suddenly one of them noticed my exit from the shop and the lenses swung towards me, clicking maddeningly. My ex looked round at this sudden flurry of activity, his eyes narrowing as he saw me. I took my time heading back to the flat, politely asking those in the way to move. Eager to see the showdown they obviously expected to happen, justifiably considering the fetching shade of plum Jeremy had now turned thanks to his exertions, they parted to let me through.
‘I can’t believe you’d do this to me!’ Jeremy hissed as I reached the door, and pushed the key I had ready in my hand into the lock.
I kept my eyes averted from his and said nothing. I didn’t want to discuss things outside where the press waited, craving gossip, and although I wanted to silence him with a look, I didn’t want to give them the opportunity to grab a shot of that look which they would then write their own caption to accompany. Besides, for all his expensive education, Jeremy could be stunningly obtuse sometimes, so probably would have entirely missed the message anyway. I twisted the key and Jeremy made to barge in the door first.
This wasn’t anything new but my time away from him had heightened my awareness of these attributes. I’d got used to them before. Just let them happen. It was too much hassle to argue and wouldn’t have done any good anyway. Money could only buy so much. If Jeremy’s parents had paid for manners at that ostentatiously expensive school they’d sent their prodigy to all those years ago, then they really ought to get a refund.
I kept my hand on the key for a few moments as Jeremy huffed and puffed beside me. Finally, he took the hint and made a small step back. I finished the turn of the key and stepped first inside my own property. Turning, I met his eyes, holding the gaze for a moment, before opening the door a little more to allow him to enter. The flicker I saw in his expression told me that even he’d got the message this time. This is my house. You’re not in charge any more.
I walked steadily up the stairs, hearing him puff and bluster behind me, clearly in a rush to get on with whatever it was he’d driven down here to say. Unlocking the interior door, I stepped through before facing him, making sure my point was made.
‘Please come in.’
He shot me a look and stepped through. His eyes took in the small, tidy flat before landing back on me.
‘This is where you live?’
‘It is.’
His brows knitted for a moment before a sardonic smirk slipped onto his face. ‘Some of the servants’ quarters are bigger than this.’
I didn’t flicker. ‘That is true. Some of those rooms are quite generous. Would you like tea, or coffee, perhaps?’ I asked, moving towards the kitchen.
‘No, I don’t want bloody tea or coffee. This isn’t a social visit.’
I gave him a quick glance. ‘No. I have to say, it’s rather a surprise to see you.’
‘Even you can’t be that stupid, Sophia.’
I gripped the jar containing the tea bags a little tighter. Had I liked it less, there was every chance it would now be sailing through the air towards Jeremy’s head.
‘Don’t speak to me that way, Jeremy.’
‘I’ll speak to you any bloody way I please!’
‘No,’ I said, turning slowly and hitting him with a direct, self-possessed stare. ‘You won’t. You’ll either speak to me respectfully or you will leave this moment. The choice is yours.’
His eyes widened a little. This was not the wife he’d been used to. The one who’d kept quiet for what she’d hoped would be an easier life – when in fact all it had been was a lonelier one.
‘Believe me, I’ll be leaving as soon as I can.’
