The Nothing Girl (7 page)

Read The Nothing Girl Online

Authors: Jodi Taylor

Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Women's Fiction, #Contemporary Women, #Romance, #Fantasy, #Contemporary Fiction

Of course, that was the easy bit.

‘What are you doing tomorrow?’ he asked.

‘Finishing the dining room,’ I said, determined to put off speaking to my family for at least the next decade. I had no idea at all how I was to explain I would be marrying a man I’d known for less than a month and who was notorious for his public pursuit of their daughter. Who had dumped him. Put like that I could hardly explain it to myself.

‘OK, yes, you’re right. One job at a time,’ said my easily distracted fiancé. ‘I’ll ring and make an appointment with your uncle for … Wednesday morning. I’ll come to you afterwards and we’ll see your aunt together. I want you to try not to worry too much. It’s going to be a little difficult, but what can they actually do, after all? A few minutes’ unpleasantness and we’re done.’

We finished the dining room the next day. Russell tried to get Andrew for the weekend to help move the furniture but he said he and Tanya were going away. They did, however, agree to join us in Rushford for a small celebration on Wednesday evening.

‘We’ll need to relax a bit after spending the afternoon talking to your ghastly relatives,’ he said breezily and none of us realised that lively though that day would be, the evening was to be even more exciting.

Wednesday came and I seriously considered staying in bed all day. Thomas made me get up. I dressed carefully and sat and watched the clock, stomach churning.

Just before noon, I heard a car pull up and stood on tiptoe to peer out of the dormer window. It wasn’t Russell. It was Uncle Richard. Something was wrong. He never came home during the day.

I turned helplessly to Thomas,


You don’t know what’s happened,
’ he said. ‘
Don’t panic yet.

‘Uncle Richard said no, and now they’re going to send me away.’


It isn’t in Uncle Richard’s power to say no. You’re twenty-eight years old. You can do as you please.

‘They’ll lock me away.’


No, they won’t. The only locks are the ones inside your own head. I know this is hard, but it’s vital you stay calm. Don’t allow them to agitate you. Try and deal with things one at a time, quietly and with restraint. This may well be your only chance. Take it.

It’s all very well saying ‘keep calm’ but not half so easy to do. I was well aware of the potential for disaster and it looked as if I would be facing it on my own. Where the hell was Russell? Had he been frightened away? Had he changed his mind? Had Francesca suddenly said yes, and he’d forgotten all about me?


Stop that,
’ said Thomas, quite sharply for him
.

Stop torturing yourself. There’s any number of good reasons why he’s not here yet. Can you hold the fort until he is?

‘Yes,’ I said. And then with more determination, ‘Yes, I can.’


Good girl.

We heard a step on the stair.


Good luck.

Uncle Richard tapped on the door. It would never be Aunt Julia. The last time she was up here was to supervise the hanging of my new curtains, about ten years ago.

I threw myself into a chair and picked up a book.


Upside down.

I righted it and called, ‘Come in.’

‘Ah, Jenny, good morning.’

‘Hello.’

‘Can you come downstairs a minute please? Your aunt and I would like a quick word.’

I followed him down to the lounge, a symphony in pale blue and grey and with furniture I hadn’t realised was so desperately uncomfortable until I sprawled on Russell Checkland’s baggy, saggy stuff.

Aunt Julia was livid. Absolutely livid. I could see it in her restless pacing and the angry glitter in her eyes.

She wheeled round as I entered.


Go slowly,
’ advised Thomas. ‘
Make her wait. It will either slow her down too, or she’ll explode. Either way is good. Just don’t let her rush you into saying or doing anything rash.

I wasn’t asked to sit down. I’d lived in this house twenty years and still I felt I had to be asked to sit down. That wasn’t right. I’d never minded before, but now I did. My heart rate slowed a little, my legs straightened, and I lifted my head.


Well done.

‘What have you been doing? What on earth do you think you’ve been doing? What have you been doing to make that disgusting man think –?’

‘That’s enough, Julia. Please sit down and calm yourself. Until we hear what Jenny has to say this may be no more than a storm in a tea cup. Now, Jenny,’ he continued kindly, ‘I think you must know what this is about.’

Kind or not, I still hadn’t been asked to sit down. I was standing on the rug like a naughty schoolgirl and I was becoming a little angry.


Good for you, but use it, don’t waste it.

I raised my eyebrows at Uncle Richard. I would make him say it.

He coughed quietly. ‘This morning I had a visit from Russell Checkland. He seems to be under the impression that you have agreed to marry him and visited my office to inform me of that fact. Is this actually true?’

I took a breath, but Aunt Julia burst in from the other side of the room.

‘Of course it’s not true, Richard. How could it be? I can’t believe you didn’t throw him out of your office.’

‘Well, he’s quite a large young man and he was perfectly polite about it. And it’s really not good for business for clients to see people pitched, willy-nilly from our premises. Besides, as you can imagine, I questioned him closely and he was very definite. He has proposed marriage to our niece and she has accepted him.’

She turned to me. ‘Say this isn’t true. Tell us he’s lying.’

Since I couldn’t do any such thing, I remained silent.

‘Do I take it,’ said Uncle Richard, ‘that your silence means he is, in fact, telling the truth?’

I took another breath, but Aunt Julia was off again. ‘I don’t care whether it’s true or not. It’s nonsense. It will never happen. She doesn’t know what she’s doing and he’s taken advantage of her. I want him prosecuted to the full extent of the law.’

‘My dear,’ he said, somewhat wearily. ‘May I point out that we still don’t know what we’re dealing with here, and until Jenny actually gets to tell us, we never will.’


Hold on – there’s a car. Yes, the hero has arrived. Better late than never, but that’s a Checkland for you. And if he stopped off to buy more buckets on the way I think you might have a legitimate grievance.

In the distance, I heard the bell ring and Mrs Finch’s voice at the door. A few seconds later, Russell walked in. He was tidily dressed although his tie was askew already and his hair beginning to escape the restraint of hair gel.

‘Hello, everyone,’ he said cheerily, apparently not noticing Defcon 1 in the drawing room, to say nothing of a traumatised fiancée rooted to the hearthrug.

‘There you are, future wife. You look very pretty today. I brought you these. Give us a kiss then.’

With these provocative words he handed me a bunch of roses and kissed me on the cheek. I seriously wondered if he was too self-absorbed even to notice the atmosphere, but I’d misjudged him. He took my hand, squeezed it tightly, and led me to the sofa, sitting beside me and letting go only to say, ‘Good God, these cushions are uncomfortable. Don’t you dare buy any like these for our place, Jenny,’ and tossed a couple of Aunt Julia’s carefully chosen scatter cushions to the floor.

As conciliatory openings went, this was a complete non-starter. Thomas moved closer.


There’s no way out of this, Jenny. He’s going for broke here. Probably a good idea but you’re going to need balls of steel for this. Just hang in there. We’ll laugh about this one day.

I was never going to laugh again.

‘So,’ he said cheerfully, ‘what are we all talking about then?’

Or maybe I would.

As you may suppose,’ said Uncle Richard, ‘we are discussing Jenny’s alleged engagement to you.’

‘Discussing? Is that what it’s called now? I suspect it’s more accurate to say that Julia has been emoting to such an extent that Jenny hasn’t been able to get a word in edgeways. Let me save everyone a great deal of time and effort. Your niece, that’s Jenny here, has done me the enormous honour of agreeing to be my wife. Sorry I’m a bit late,’ he said, turning to me. ‘I stopped off at the Register Office. They were very helpful and gave me all sorts of stuff. Here, have a look through this lot, tell me what you want, choose a date, and we’ll do the deed.’

Aunt Julia was on her feet again. I turned cold and sweaty and for a moment thought I might throw up. She looked terrifying in her rage.


Margaret Thatcher with added attitude,
’ said Thomas. ‘
Don’t let any of this distress you.
You’re going to be fine. He won’t let anything happen to you and there’s three of us and only two of them.

Russell still had a tight grip on my hand. His was warm, dry, and steady and I felt heat beginning to creep back into my body. He didn’t look in the least bothered and I began to suspect he was actually enjoying himself.

‘This so-called marriage will never take place,’ she declared. ‘As her legal guardians, we withhold consent –’

‘She’s twenty-eight, Julia, she doesn’t need your consent. She can do as she pleases.’

No, I couldn’t, and he’d obviously forgotten that. I tugged on his hand. He raised my hand to his lips and winked at me. No, he hadn’t forgotten. ‘Will you trust me?’

I nodded, but only once, still not sure.

‘I’m so sorry, Mr Checkland.’ Her voice dripped icy politeness. ‘Perhaps if you’d had the courtesy to consult her guardians before upsetting my niece with this ridiculous proposal then we could have explained to you and without any distress to poor Jenny, just why exactly this marriage, any marriage, can never take place.’

‘Why do you keep calling her poor Jenny?’ he interrupted. ‘She appears perfectly normal to me. She’s not deficient in any way or missing anything vital. You’re not, are you?’ he added in a loud whisper to me. ‘Because if you are then this is the moment to tell me. I can take it, I promise you.’

I shook my head. Once again, he’d defused the moment.

‘Now, anything else before we go?’

He began to make all he preparations necessary for extricating oneself from one of Aunt Julia’s sofas.

‘Bloody hell, Jenny, we may be here for life. That remark I made about the cushions applies to the sofas as well.’

‘Really?’ said Aunt Julia nastily. ‘Do tell us, Mr Checkland, with whose money will you be buying these new sofas?’

Russell grinned at her.

Her face darkened alarmingly. Thomas snorted.

‘Language,’ I said, in my head.

‘Am I to understand, Russell, that you will be supporting your wife on her money alone?’ asked Uncle Richard, and I guessed this was the crunch. If he showed any weakness now, or tried to explain, or gloss over, or lie …

‘Well, mostly yes. Although there’s the money from renting out grazing, of course. 50p per sheep, you know,’ he explained to Aunt Julia and I think we all enjoyed her expression of baffled confusion. ‘And they improve the land no end. And it’s up to them to maintain the boundaries. Not the sheep, of course, the tenants. So as you can see, it’s a sweet deal.’

Uncle Richard, in his own way, was a great deal more relentless than Aunt Julia.

‘So would it be fair to state then, that you bring nothing at all to this unequal marriage and you are marrying my niece solely for her money? Your father would turn in his grave at such behaviour from a Checkland.’

That really was the wrong thing to say.

Russell was on his feet in one fluid movement. I came up with him, ready to do what I could. His voice was far more icy than anything my aunt could never achieve. She was tall but he was taller. He looked down his nose at her, but spoke to Uncle Richard.

‘I think, sir, that in the drama of the moment you have become confused when you speak of inequality. Perhaps you have been so taken up listening to Mrs Kingdom’s unhelpful statements that you have not had time to consider the benefits to your niece of having a husband in possession of a twelve-roomed Victorian farmhouse with extensive outbuildings, stables, and thirty-three acres of prime grazing land, with a conservative estimate of, at the last count, fractionally over £750,000, fifty per cent of which is being transferred into my future wife’s name even as we speak. I know my fiancée was well provided for by her parents, but I shall be astonished (although very pleased, of course) if she brings anything like that sum to our marriage. Being in possession of these facts, sir, I would be grateful if you could indicate the areas of inequality that give you so much concern.’

I stood beside him, staunch but shaking, oscillating wildly between fear, admiration, and now, hope.

Uncle Richard sat back, looking thoughtful. Aunt Julia, however, was not done.

‘That’s as maybe,’ she said, dismissing twelve rooms and thirty-three acres with a flick of her wrist. ‘But I must inform you, Mr Checkland, that po – that Jenny’s precarious state of health precludes her from living anywhere except quietly in her own home, here with us.’

This was crunch time for me. I would be locked away. Once again, he stepped in.

‘I knew it,’ he said to me. ‘You’re a vampire and you have to come home every night to your coffin in the cellar.’

I inhaled the lovely smell of warm ginger biscuits and whispered, ‘I live in the attic.’

‘Then you’re an android and have to return to plug yourself in every night? Not a problem – we’ll get batteries. Or – how about a really long extension lead?’

He was doing it on purpose. Aunt Julia was unused to being mocked. She swelled alarmingly. I was surprised to find I was almost enjoying this.

‘If, Mr Checkland, you had taken the trouble to become acquainted with my niece instead of just meeting her at a party and then making this ridiculous proposal so soon afterwards, then you would know very well why Jenny should continue to live here.’

She turned to me and her face softened. ‘Jenny, I have your best interests at heart. We both do. This – man – has met you once, decided you can be easily influenced, and is here solely because he’s desperate for money and can’t get it any other way. Please don’t allow yourself to believe what he tells you. Far from owning a large and prosperous home as he’s led you to believe, his house is falling down – a virtual ruin. You’re his last-ditch attempt to avoid having to sell up.

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