Page 63 of Wild About You

Sulkily, he broke a couple of squares off and handed them to me.

I devoured them like a wolverine. ‘I saw those women queuing up at the fete just to have a minute with you. I realise it must be difficult to be sowantedanddesired. Honestly, shall I get you a tiny violin? Some of us don’t have potential partners cantering on our heels. And, by the way, don’t worry, you’re in no danger from me.’ This was a blatant lie, but I said it as much for myself as for him.

He looked slightly interested by that. He poured a small measure of whisky into my cup. I tapped his. ‘You too. You’re not getting me drunk on my own, matey.’ Although I had a slight feeling I might be drunk already.

‘Well, as long as I’m not in anydanger,’ he murmured, helping himself to some more.

‘It’s perfectly possible for you to marry for love, like your brother has,’ I said confidently.

‘Glad that’s all sorted then,’ he muttered.

‘George is your only sibling, right?’ I knew I was being nosy but I couldn’t help myself.

He nodded. ‘I’m the heir, he’s the spare. Dad was obsessed with Stonemore, and George and I were just the mechanisms by which he could ensure it survived and was passed on. Mother kept his attention for a while but then she got bored of him, and of this place, and took off to travel the world. Then she died.’

‘I’m so sorry.’ I fought the urge to comfort him in some way. Even touching his hand seemed impossible.

‘There’s no need.’ He brushed it off. ‘Also, I realise, it’s not exactly normal to talk about it in such a blasé way.’ To me he looked far from blasé, but I didn’t want to contradict him. ‘But neither of them really gave a damn about me or George. I lost count of the times we weren’t collected from boarding school in the holidays. All packed up, sitting in the front hall with our trunks, just waiting.’

‘How awful,’ I said.

He bit his lip. ‘It sounds like I’m trying to get sympathy.’ He got up, collected more wood from the corner store. ‘I’m not.’

‘I didn’t think you were.’ Outside the windows, it was fully night now.

He put the wood down by the fire and sat down opposite me. ‘All I’m trying to say is, I had to work very hard to disengage my emotions. To try and cut them off. I learned as a child that they were unhelpful things to have. I remember, arriving at boarding school, after my parents left, saying to myself, again and again, “I don’t care, I don’t love them.” I’m not sure that’s a healthy mantra for a seven year old to have.’

‘Seven?’ He must have heard the catch in my voice, and looked at me warningly:no sympathy. ‘That’s harsh,’ I said. ‘Sorry, Jamie, it is. For your parents to do that.’

He shrugged. ‘I’ve been an adult for a long time now. I should have sorted my head out. Do you know – I’m not sure I want to tell you this, given how fucked up it is – but I can’t even remember the last time I told someone – anyone – that I love them.’

My breath caught. I saw the look on his face – hesitant, ashamed.

‘Not even Hugo?’ I said, and smiled at the laugh it drew from him.

‘Especially not him,’ he said. ‘He’d only take advantage.’

‘I mean, I agree.’

‘Sorry.’ He smiled ruefully, adding the logs to the fire. ‘You’re not my therapist. I should definitely get a therapist, right? I haven’t talked to anyone like this in years – if ever, frankly.’ He paused. ‘And now I’m sick of the sound of my own voice. Tell me about you. And if there’s nothing dark, just make something up to make me feel better.’

I laughed, and gave him the edited highlights: Dad’s departure, Mum’s struggle to put food on the table, her insistence that Rose and I concentrate on our educations. He listened carefully, asking questions here and there, drawing more out of me.

‘I was never bullied, not really,’ I said. ‘But when I started to get good results at school, one or two of the kids said things. About my background. The fact I didn’t have a dad. It was quite a theme. I’ve always felt I have to prove myself, to somehow be…’ I gave a hollow laugh. ‘Unassailable. Perfect. Everything to everyone.’

He nodded. ‘I understand.’

‘For the record, I do actually think of you as a human being,’ I said. ‘Even though you’re, you know, a lord.’

He smiled. ‘Hallelujah.’

I steered the conversation back to work.

‘And you’ve concentrated on your career?’ He was pulling a sleeping bag out of his kit bag, not looking at me. ‘Because of…’

‘My infertility?’ I said, and saw his swift glance. ‘It’s okay, I don’t cry every time someone mentions it. No, my discovery of that is a fairly recent thing. The man behind the flowers? We were supposed to get married. It didn’t work out.’

‘I know the feeling of things not working out.’ He looked me in the eyes; there was a slight shyness in his normally unflinching gaze. ‘Here.’ He swung the sleeping bag towards me. ‘Climb into this. We can’t keep the fire going all night. Are you tired? You can go to sleep whenever you like.’

---