Lucy Gordon - A Convenient Wedding

‘I suppose so. The trouble with being a hothouse flower is that you lose track of the seasons.’

‘Here the seasons are everything. This one’s the best, when spring is just turning into early summer. The lambing’s over and the sowing is ready to start.’

Rusty and Jacko were sniffing about in the grass, the picture of canine content. Their master threw a stick, but they ignored it and came to Meryl to have their ears fondled.

‘I don’t suppose there’s any money in farming, is there?’ she said thoughtfully.

‘Hey, how did you ever work that out?’ Jarvis still spoke amiably, almost teasing her.

‘I didn’t,’ she admitted. ‘It was something my father used to say.’

What Craddock Winters had actually said was, ‘Only fools waste their time trying to get things out of the earth by growing. The way to do it is to bore in and wrench out what you want. That’s how you get rich.’

Meryl had never thought about it enough to question his judgement, but now she realised that her father had never stood in a field in spring, listening to the silence. In fact-it dawned on her like a thunderclap-he’d hated silence almost as much as he hated his own company-and had made sure there was never any around him.

If only he could see her now! She could just hear his scathing tones. But there was a lot he hadn’t known.

‘Why are you smiling?’ Jarvis asked.

‘Talking about my father made me remember things-he thought cities mattered, and outside cities only oil wells counted. To him the rest was unnecessary.’

‘Where did he think the food came from?’

‘From the supermarket, of course, Cellophane-packaged.’

‘Why, of all the-’ he began angrily. Then he saw the demure mischief in her eyes and knew an odd feeling of pleasure. ‘Of course!’ he said. ‘Forgive me, I have no sense of humour.’

‘Nonsense! You must have.’

‘I don’t often see the joke. Except right now I think it might be on me.’

‘But it can’t really be a joke for you, can it?’ she said, serious again.

‘No, it can’t. The reality is always there in the background, making jokes futile. And that’s all I’m going to say. It’s time we were getting on. I have people I need to see.’

‘Will I be in the way?’

‘If I said yes, would that stop you?’

‘Let’s get going.’

WHEN they were in the Jeep Jarvis began to turn it back the way they’d come.

‘What about the people you have to see?’ she asked.

‘That can wait for another day.’

‘You mean because I’m here. You don’t want me to see too much, do you?’

‘You’ve already seen too much. I didn’t ask you to come with me but you insisted, the way you’d always insist if I was mad enough to- Never mind.’

They were approaching the village again. This time, instead of driving through, he stopped at an old timbered building whose sign proclaimed it the Running Dog. He bought himself a beer and, at Meryl’s insistence, the same for her. Then sat watching her cynically as she drank it.

‘It’s good,’ she said, meaning it. ‘Don’t look like that. My dad taught me to drink beer.’

‘This isn’t just beer,’ he said, scandalised. ‘It’s best Yorkshire bitter.’

‘I must have some sent back home. It’ll blow their minds.’

‘Back home,’ he echoed. ‘Your home’s thousands of miles away. Go back to it, Meryl. Take the beer. Take every drop in Yorkshire, but go back where you belong.’

‘I think someone’s trying to get your attention.’

Jarvis looked over his shoulder and swore. ‘That’s Andrew Carver, my solicitor,’ he muttered.

A harassed-looking middle-aged man bore down on them. ‘Jarvis, what a bit of luck. I gave up waiting for you at the office.’

‘I’m sorry, that was rude of me. Andrew, this is-’

It was clear that Andrew already knew. His greeting to Meryl was effusive, and he couldn’t keep his eyes from darting to her again and again.

‘Just a few things-’ Carver said hurriedly.

‘This isn’t a good time-’ Jarvis began.

‘Ten minutes. I promised Bates an answer today-you remember, about that guarantee with the bank? I know what we said but it’s only to tide him over for three months-’

‘Let me get you a drink, Mr Carver,’ Meryl said, rising.

She would have preferred to stay and listen, but she could sense Jarvis on hot coals, and suddenly she pitied him. He was like a man tied down with chains, forced to watch as more and more were laid on him.

She set Carver’s drink beside him and wandered out. The pub was built near the top of a gentle slope, and from the rail she could look down at the sunlit dales, dotted with woolly sheep who seemed so still that they might have been part of the landscape.

I belong here.

She looked around sharply to see who’d spoken, but she was alone. The words had flashed into her head without warning, and then out again, floating away on the gentle breeze.

Nonsense! she thought. Of course I don’t belong here. Ask Jarvis, he’ll tell you. He’ll probably shoot the messenger, too. It’s a lovely place and I’d like to stay awhile, but I don’t belong here because-because I don’t want to belong here.

She tried to picture her fun life in New York, and her even more fun life in Los Angeles. The parties, the expensive clothes, the glitter, the adoring men.

But the pictures wouldn’t come, and the men were hardest of all to get in focus. Who were they? What did they look like? The only face she could see was that of a tense angry man who needed her but couldn’t wait to be rid of her.

‘I don’t want to belong here,’ she said aloud.

A goat, contentedly grazing nearby, gave her a disdainful look and returned to work.

It might be destiny, but she’d always felt in charge of her own destiny, except for Larry Rivers’ unwelcome interventions. People were so eager to oblige Miss Winters.

Except one.

‘OK, he’s gone.’ Jarvis had appeared behind her. She wondered how long he’d been there, watching her. ‘Ready to go?’

‘Let me finish my beer. This is beautiful.’

‘You should see it when it’s under snow.’

‘I’ve already seen it when it wasn’t friendly. I can’t believe that was only two days ago.’

‘Surely-?’ He frowned. ‘No, you’re right. It is only two days.’

Two days and a hundred years.

‘By the way,’ he said as they returned to the Jeep, ‘thank you.’

‘Don’t tell me I’ve cracked your prejudice against me?’

‘Is it prejudice to say you don’t belong here?’

There was that phrase again.

‘I appreciate your making yourself scarce,’ he said.

‘Is Carver doing a good job for you?’

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘Sure, I’m an interfering busybody, let’s take that as read. But if you’re already in such hock-and as your solicitor he must know it-why is he trying to get you in deeper?’

‘It’s just a guarantee, and only for three months.’

‘And then this Mr Bates will pay?’

Jarvis hesitated uneasily. ‘He’s had a very rough time recently-he deserves his chance, and nobody will help him if I don’t.’

‘You’re really paternalistic, aren’t you? Being a father to them.’

‘They need help,’ he said emphatically. ‘And there’s only me.’

‘And when Bates can’t pay, you’re that much closer to disaster. I don’t know the details, but I don’t think it’s going to take much to tip you over.’

‘Miss Winters, understand once and for all, I will not marry you.’

She sighed. ‘Boy, I must be losing my touch!’

Silence. Then, as though the words were torn from him. ‘You know better than that.’

She resisted the temptation to say, Yes, I do. She was learning.

They didn’t speak for a while. The dogs nuzzled her from the rear seat and she tickled their ears, trying not to fall in love with them. It was hard.

Above them the sky was darkening again. The glorious sunlight of a moment ago might never have been.

‘How can it change so fast?’ she demanded. ‘And it’s raining again. I don’t believe it.’

‘If you were stuck around here you’d believe it fast enough. This area is known for its rain.’

‘Good for farming, then.’

‘Excellent, but not good for a theme park. Oh, blast!’

The engine, which had been making melancholy noises for the last mile, finally decided it wasn’t worth the effort. They came to a shuddering halt.

With a muttered, ‘Stay here,’ Jarvis jumped out and hauled up the bonnet. Meryl followed at once.

‘I told you to stay where you were.’

‘And miss the chance of being soaked to death a second time? No way! What’s the matter?’

Jarvis made a maddened gesture at the engine, which was steaming ominously. ‘I don’t know, but it’s always happening. Luckily there’s a garage in Little Grands.’

‘Didn’t we come through Little Grands on the way here? It can’t be much more than a mile ahead.’

‘Right. But we’re stuck here with our dead vehicle.’

‘Not if we push it.’

‘We?’

She had to raise her voice to make herself heard above the rain. ‘Jarvis, you can either wait here with me, trying to make polite conversation, or we can move this thing to Little Grands.’

‘But you? Push?’

She lost her temper. ‘Unless you fancy harnessing the dogs.’

He didn’t argue further but went to the back of the Jeep. Meryl followed him at once, setting her shoulder to the other corner. She had just time to think, If they could see me now! before exerting all her strength and feeling the vehicle begin to move with agonising slowness.

Inch by inch, foot by foot, they crawled along until Little Grands came into sight, although still tantalisingly far off.

‘We can rest for a minute,’ Jarvis said, breathing heavily.

‘Resting is for wimps,’ she gasped.

‘Fine, we’ll be wimps.’ He gave her a glowering look. ‘We haven’t all got big muscles like you.’

She began to laugh, and choked almost at once as the rain got into her mouth.

‘Don’t,’ she begged, going into a coughing fit. ‘Oh, heavens!’

‘It’s all right.’ He thumped her on the back. She staggered and clung to him.

‘Fine,’ she gasped. ‘I’m OK now. Let’s get going.’

‘No need,’ he said, pointing down the road ahead. ‘That truck heading for us belongs to Mike, who owns the garage. What a bit of luck that he should have been coming back this way!’

In another minute Mike was with them, whistling when he saw the engine. Meryl got into his van while Jarvis helped him set up the tow, and soon they were on their way to the village.

‘It’ll take me a few hours,’ Mike said when the Jeep was in his garage and he’d taken a quick glance. ‘Do you want to get a taxi home?’

‘No point,’ Jarvis said. ‘We’ve missed the afternoon low tide. But you should go,’ he added to Meryl. ‘I’ll call Ferdy to take you over with his boat.’

But she shook her head, teeth chattering. ‘I just need dry clothes. If I can have my bags and somewhere to change-’

Mike showed her across the road to a small inn called the Blue Gull, where she was able to hire a room with a minute bathroom. Mrs Helms, the plump landlady, brought her a huge mug of hot tea, which tasted better than anything in her life before, and half an hour in the shower made her feel almost human again.

Her elegant suitcases were largely water-tight, and she found her clothes in good condition. She picked out a heavy jersey sweater and skirt set in her favorite green, and brushed out her long black hair over her shoulders. It was still damp, so she left it hanging loose and went downstairs just as Jarvis entered the front door.

The rain was still pelting down, and in the short time it had taken him to cross the yard his hair had become soaked again. So had his jacket. Mrs Helms fussed over him, putting his jacket on a chair and giving him a towel for his hair. He rubbed vigorously and finally came up for air to find Meryl standing before him. He hadn’t noticed her before, and it gave him an unnerving feeling, as though she had appeared by magic.

‘Are you feeling better?’ he asked.

‘Fine, now I’m dry.’ She returned the mug to Mrs Helms. ‘Thank you so much for this. It saved my life.’

Mrs Helms had a fat, cosy chuckle. ‘You looked just about drowned,’ she said.

‘That’s Lord Larne’s fault,’ Meryl said wickedly. ‘I think there must be a law that says I can never meet him without getting soaking wet.’

‘So be warned,’ Jarvis growled.

‘You mean, “be off”, don’t you?’

‘If you know what I mean, I don’t need to say it.’ But he spoke without the rancour that would once have been in his voice.

‘How’s the car?’

‘It’ll be ready in time for the next low tide.’