Page 23 of Broken Country

Jimmy and Nina are having supper at the farmhouse tonight and I sense it’s a relief to us both: Since I began looking after Leo, the nightly conversations between Frank and me have become strained, the two of us doing our best not to mention Gabriel, whose name will always trigger an uneasiness in Frank, or Leo, who causes him pain, the same way he causes me pain, by the simple fact of not being the boy we want. I’m getting used to it, though: Every day Leo becomes more himself in my eyes andmyboy,ourboy, fades into the background that little bit more.

I have made a chicken and ham pie, which is Jimmy’s and Nina’s favorite, and Frank has brought home two bottlesof red wine, a gift from an old farming friend, which is an event in itself. We never normally have wine at home.

Frank pulls out the cork with a ceremonial pop and pours wine into two glasses.

We are listening toAftermathby the Rolling Stones when Jimmy and Nina arrive. Nina cries: “I LOVE this song”—it’s the opening track, “Mother’s Little Helper”—and dances into the room, her bright hair flying behind her as she executes a perfect spin. She is wearing a pink, yellow, and green minidress in a bright graphic pattern, legs clad in clashing turquoise tights, a pair of patent leather Mary Janes on her feet. I love the effort Nina puts into her appearance; she is like a rare and ornate flower in the shabby surrounds of our kitchen.

Nina hugs Frank, then moves toward me, pausing to sniff the air like a bloodhound. “Don’t tell me you made the pie?”

“?’Course I did, you idiot.”

“I love you, Beth Johnson. Did I ever tell you that?”

“Many times. And ditto.”

We embrace by the stove, her long hair whipping into my face. She smells of Pears shampoo and Nivea face cream.

“Looks like we’re going to be gooseberries tonight,” Jimmy says to his brother.

“What else is new?” says Frank.

“Tell us about the new job, Beth,” Nina says, the minute we’re sitting at the table.

She’s always been one for confronting the elephant. I catch the glance between the brothers, the quick flash of scorn on Jimmy’s face. He will hate Gabriel unless Frank tells him not to; that’s how it works with them.

“I really like it,” I begin. “It’s different, you know? I thought going to the school would be too hard but, actually, it’s helping. I’m facing things I’ve avoided for two years—the playground, the teachers, the mothers—and it’s easier than I thought. Already, I’m used to it. And Leo is not likeBobby at all. I know you were worried me spending time with Leo would bring it all back. And it does, sometimes, but I feel I’m doing something worthwhile, something that’s making a difference to him and to me. I feel sorry for Leo. His father works too hard, and his mother has begun a new life in America without him. He’s lonely.”

While I’ve been talking my eyes have never left Frank’s face, I am saying all this for him. And what I see reflected back is his comprehension. He gets it. I smile in relief, and he reaches to take my hand. We have always been good at communicating without words.

I notice, as the next bottle slips down, the tension has drifted from Frank’s face. His skin is slightly flushed and his eyes have a glitter to them. He looks happy, younger. Like his old self.

“Wine drunk suits you,” I say, and he kisses me, quite hard, on the mouth. A kiss that is really a full stop, and says,OK, enough now.

“Look at you, bloody lovebirds,” Nina says, but she’s happy to see it. Our relationship means so much to them both. “How did you know you were meant to be together? You were so young.”

“I knew from the age of thirteen,” Frank says.

No need to tell the wildflower story—my drawing is pinned up on the kitchen wall, so familiar I hardly see it.

“Beth took a little longer.”

“But once I was sold, I was sold,” I say, and I lean into him, my head against his shoulder. It’s not just the booze, in Frank I find reassurance when I most need it. He is mine and I am his and we’ve been together forever. This is the story I tell myself.

“You two know, don’t you?” Frank says. “Come on, you’ve never had eyes for anyone else. How many years is it now, five, six? What are you waiting for?”

The strangest, most unexpected thing happens.

Nina gets up from the table and kneels in front of Jimmy.

We all realize, at the same moment, she is down on one knee. Jimmy looks over at Frank—Is this really happening?—then his face slides from sheepishness to wonder.

“Jimmy Johnson, love of my life, will you marry me? I’ll be an old maid if I wait for you to ask me.”

Jimmy pulls Nina onto his lap and the two of them start to kiss as if there’s no one else in the room. Frank and I just look at each other, eyes wide while we wait.

“Is that a yes?” Nina asks, when they part. “You didn’t say.”

“Of course it’s a bloody yes! All I’ve ever wanted is you. Ask them.” He gestures at me and Frank; we are still watching them in amazement. “I’ve been in love with you since the very first time I saw you. I was too scared to ask you in case you said no.”

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