Someone Else's Conflict (23 page)

‘Vinko?'

‘Uh-huh?'

He turned, his expression open, but Jay's mind was blank.

‘I… Nothing.'

‘Why are we stopped?'

‘It happens sometimes. It'll move soon.'

They waited.

‘Why don't you tell me one of your stories?'

‘What?'

‘Like in the marketplace. Why not?'

They exchanged a smile and the relief was as good as any talking. But Jay tried in vain to find the words, any words, a key to unlock the gate to his well-trodden escape route. He was saved by the ringtone of Vinko's phone, which seemed to announce the train lurching into movement. Vinko looked across apologetically, glanced at the screen and edged out of his seat as he answered. He made for the connecting door speaking quietly. ‘Hello? … No, nothing … I haven't heard a word from you. Really. But it doesn't matter. I was mistaken and anyway I've changed my mind—'
The door swished shut on his voice.

Jay stared after him for a while before reminding himself he had an important call of his own to make. He hoped he'd be able to find the right words.

Chapter 19

Marilyn found it hard to concentrate the following morning, even though her temporary workshop was at the back of the craft centre, which meant she was cut off from any comings and goings. She was on edge, listening for a knock on the door. Even though that usually meant Matt, and she knew it was highly unlikely that Jay would just appear here, the irrational hope persisted. She was missing him, waiting for him to return, and not only because she'd have a thing or two to say to him about leaving her in the lurch.

It was almost lunchtime when she finished applying the glaze to a batch of mugs and left them to dry. They would keep their final appearance secret until they'd dried and been fired, but that was part of the magic. She was pleased with her morning's work; the warm feeling of inspiration Jay had kindled in her continued to smoulder despite his absence.

Following her clearout she had a bag of things for Matt, including the clothes she'd lent Jay, and before settling down to her sandwiches she decided to get the visit over with. Although her own situation had taken a turn for the better during the past week, she still felt the same mix of nostalgia and jealousy as she entered the shop. Lucy looked fully at home behind the counter, with her wavy hennaed hair, nose stud, butterfly tattoo on the back of her hand and floaty blouse that was a bit flimsy for the time of year despite the efforts of the portable gas fire Marilyn could smell above the shop's air of patchouli. The woman Matt had left her for gave her a friendly smile and didn't seem at all perturbed at seeing Marilyn. She silently wished them well, despite herself. Lucy phoned up to the flat and told her Matt said to go up.

‘He's just doing some accounts. We were having a big stocktake when you came last week, you know? I think he was also going to look at the figures on that spare workshop. Between you and me, we're doing OK and as far as I'm concerned I think you should stay as long as you need to, yeah? I mean, seeing as your place was damaged in that storm – something like that's no fun, is it?'

She smiled as if to add
no hard feelings?
to her flow of questions. Marilyn smiled back and was surprised how easy it was. She was also surprised at how calm she felt as Matt let her in and offered her a coffee.

‘No thanks, I won't stay long.'

She noticed that the room hadn't changed much; the pile of decorating materials was still in the corner. She felt a flush of self-satisfaction at the amount she and Jay had got done on the barn in the same time.

‘Did you get anywhere with the insurance?' Matt asked.

‘These things take time. Still no phone. I was going to pop across and check it out later.' She walked over to the window and gazed down on the car park. ‘Anyway, whether or not I can get payment for this, we're doing well with the preliminary work at Stoneleigh. A good start so when I can get Alan, or whoever else, going it shouldn't take too long. Unless we get finished ourselves in the meantime, that is.'

‘That friend you mentioned still around to help you, then?' he said, obviously trying, but failing, to keep his voice neutral.

‘Yeah, we've got quite a lot done,' she said non-committally. She turned to face him in the ensuing pause. ‘Anyway, I've been having a clearout. Found some stuff of yours.'

She handed two large carrier bags over and watched him rummaging through.

‘There's nothing here that couldn't have waited.'

‘It's OK, it needed doing.'

He smiled as he held up a hand-knitted, multicoloured jumper. ‘The one your gran knitted me. Hadn't thought about it in years. Till…till I met this guy in the builders' merchant last Tuesday.' He waved his hand towards the pile of decorating materials. ‘Needed a new roller. Time flies. It's been a week now; can't believe I haven't used it yet.' He looked back at the jumper. ‘So I guessed right – the stuff he was hiring was for your place?'

‘No secrets in a small town like this.' She laughed as the phrase reminded her of the first conversation she'd had with Jay.

‘Seemed nice enough. Not that we spoke; just that hello-sorry-to-keep-you-waiting kind of thing at the counter. How do you two know each other?'

‘We met.' She shrugged. ‘Around. He…called by on the off chance last week just after the storm. On a walking holiday in the area. Saw my problem, decided to make it a building holiday instead.' She laughed awkwardly; gestured to the jumper. ‘His own clothes were wet.'

‘No probs. Well, I hope it works out.'

‘You're assuming rather a lot, aren't you?'

‘No need to be so defensive. I could have meant the work on the barn. I take it that means you're not an item?'

‘He's a good friend.'

‘Whatever. Would that be him I saw busking on Saturday?'

She nodded. ‘We've concreted the floor, needed to give it time to dry. I had to sort my stuff out and he came to town.'

‘You've done the floor already?'

‘Only the base.'

‘Impressive nevertheless – you're certainly getting on with it. That lad I saw him with helping you too?'

‘What lad?'

‘Obviously not. Teenager, dark hair? They were crossing the square, looked like they were heading for the Black Bull. Don't worry, I wasn't eavesdropping. Couldn't anyway; I think they were talking some foreign language.'

‘Wouldn't surprise me. Jay's travelled,' she said, distracted by the memory of the youth she'd accused of stealing her purse and the attempt to convince herself this was someone else. ‘I don't know anything about any lad; must just be someone he bumped into.'

‘Must be. Listen, did you say Jay? That reminds me, I've got a message for you – got a phone call the other day.'

‘You weren't going to tell me?' The strength of her feelings made her snap it out.

‘Give us a chance. I'd have called down at the workshop if I'd known you were there.' He held his hands up in that characteristic gesture of mock innocence she'd once have found humorous. ‘Yesterday, Sunday morning of all times, this guy phones saying he's trying to get hold of you, can't get through, must have the wrong number for Stoneleigh, could I give it to him? I told him you were ex-directory so, no, I couldn't, and in any case your phone was down. So, cool as you like, he asks if I could perhaps give him your mobile number instead?' Matt laughed as if it were the most ridiculous request in the world. ‘Needless to say I told him if you'd wanted him to have your mobile number presumably you'd have given it to him. I did the right thing, didn't I?'

She sighed. There had been a series of nuisance calls shortly after she'd come back to Stoneleigh from Ireland, so she'd changed the number and had her listing made private. Even so. ‘Did you have to be so obstructive?'

‘Your phone's been off anyway – what difference would it have made? I'm telling you now.'

‘So did you get his number?' she prompted.

Matt plucked a piece of paper with a mobile number from a noticeboard by the desk. He frowned as he passed it to her. ‘Strange thing is, he said it was Jay, claimed you'd be expecting him. I assume it's that friend of yours. So how come—'

‘Thanks, Matt.' Marilyn took the paper from him calmly, determined not to betray her perplexity. She also wanted to ask if he'd said anything else, but didn't want to reveal that she knew nothing about where he'd gone. ‘Well, I'd better be getting back. Pots won't fire themselves.'

‘Look, is everything OK?'

‘Of course.' As if she'd tell him if it wasn't.

‘I just want to say…this guy had better be all right, is all. Seriously, I hope things work out – you deserve a bit of a break, Lynnie.'

‘Thanks.'

She got up to go. For Matt to say something like that was as good as an apology for the way he'd treated her. He went with her to the door and clapped her on her shoulder; she turned and gave him a brief hug.

She made herself wait until she was back in the workshop with the door closed behind her before whisking the scrap of paper from her pocket and dialling. She got the standard network answering service and her eager anticipation plunged into negativity. What was he up to? Why had he disappeared? Who was he with? She left a brief message, trying her best to sound matter-of-fact.

On her way home later that afternoon, Marilyn stopped at the last possible moment to try the number again before she lost signal. The recorded message politely informing her that the person she'd called was not available made her feel like throwing her phone out of the car window.

Passing the farm, she noticed the Harringtons were back; she called in to let Dorothy know she was fine, but didn't stop long. Her own place was deserted. Marilyn parked the car and looked into the barn; it seemed worse now than it had before the storm. There was still a long way to go; the new floor with its ugly concrete over the damp-proof membrane made the place look soulless even though she knew the underfloor heating and stone flags would be in place eventually, and the window openings knocked into the walls gave the building a derelict air. She thought of what Jay had said about sleeping in barns the day they first met and wondered where he was now. She instinctively drew her phone from her pocket as if the strength of her feelings were enough to give her a signal.

She was in the porch contemplating the contents of her freezer, wondering what she could make to cheer herself up, when an unaccustomed sound reached her from inside the house. Dropping the freezer lid with a whump that sent Genghis skittering through to the comfort of the kitchen before her, she rushed to the phone.

‘Polly?'

The sound of his voice made her realise how futile any attempts to convince herself she wasn't missing him had been.

‘Good to hear you.'

‘Got your message, thanks. I'm sorry I couldn't get in touch before. And I'm so glad you got mine. I wondered if you would – that Matt's a difficult one, isn't he?'

‘Can be. So what's going on? Where'd you get to?'

‘Last Saturday…I met an old friend. Well, an old friend's son. So I missed the bus home Saturday night, and then… I'll explain when I see you.'

‘And when's that likely to be?'

‘Tomorrow, hopefully. Wednesday at the latest. Listen, Pol, he needed my help; I had to… I'll explain…'

She wanted to fill the silence by reminding him he was supposed to be helping
her
, but told herself not to be so self-centred.

‘Where are you now?'

‘Winchester. Where my house and stuff are. I
will
explain,' he said for the third time. ‘It's a long story. Too long for now. Please trust me. I'll be back as soon as I can. I've got a confession to make.'

‘Confession?'

‘I… I soon realised how much I'm missing you.'

She smiled with relief, savouring the moment, then realised he couldn't see a smile down the phone. ‘Me too.'

‘I feel really bad about just disappearing. I know we've got loads to be doing. You OK?'

She told him she'd been at the workshop, playing down the annoyance and frustration she'd been feeling.

‘You can't believe how relieved I am,' he said. ‘To speak to you. That you understand.'

‘I can't say as I do, Jay. But I'm glad to speak to you too. You'd better be back soon, though, or that bag of yours is going on the bonfire with my old stuff.'

‘You wouldn't.' As he laughed she heard the muffled sound of a door down the line, a male voice in the background. ‘Look, I'd better go. I'll tell you all about it when I see you. Only a day or two, yeah?'

‘I hope so. Thanks for ringing, anyway.'

‘My pleasure. It's lovely to hear you. See you soon, Polly.'