Starting Over - Chapter Twenty Two - What becomes of the broken hearted?

Twenty-Two : What becomes of the broken hearted?

                “So what do you do now?” Ellen was sat opposite her sister Sara and sighed. They’d just been to see Charlotte perform an outdoor ballet in Hyde Park, now they were waiting for her in the hotel bar, sharing a bottle of wine. Sara had been dying to find out the gossip on Ellen’s abrupt return from Majorca since her mother had told her she’d arrived last week.

                “I’m still hoping to find a job. I need some routine! Unfortunately I’m not getting anywhere at the moment. Saying that, I’m not desperate....yet!” She tried to break into a smile, but failed rather dismally.

Ellen was struggling to hold it together, so far everyone believed that this was her choice, that she wanted to leave, needed to get back into the real world, but it wasn’t true, every day her heart broke a little more and she really didn’t know what to do. She was financially secure for the next year or two if she was sensible, she had no commitments, she should be planning a huge trip or buying a house or car, instead, she was staying at her parents’ home, hiding her distress from them. 

They’d been stunned to open the door to her six days ago, by that point she’d done all her crying, all she had now was a huge void in her life, in her heart. She told them she’d got bored of the lifestyle, wanted to settle down, get a job, and when they’d asked after Jan, she assured them he didn’t feel the same way, that he still wasn’t ready to give up on what he had.

If they were surprised they hid it well, but then everyone in her family were good at hiding things, they spent a life time controlling what the others knew about themselves, all except her father...the open book. She’d spent days talking to every contact she still had from her last job, hoping that someone would look favourably on her. But it was the wrong time for anyone to hire her, hadn’t she heard there was a recession happening?

So here she was with one of her sisters waiting for the other, bereft of her best friend and the man she loved. And not having a clue what the future held. Thankfully she had the guilt money from Richard’s partners; otherwise things would look a lot bleaker. As it was she figured she could last a year without work financially, but mentally she was desperate for something to occupy her mind.

Suddenly in a burst of attention Charlotte floated into the restaurant the epitome of all that was graceful and elegant. Despite her being only five foot two her petite stature and heeled shoes meant she carried her height well and she courted the attraction of the whole room.

                “Char you were wonderful!” Ellen jumped up to congratulate her sister, Swan Lake from the centre of the Serpentine was magical, viewable from 360 degrees, the crowds were huge, the applause frenetic. Her sister was serene and the whole event was a success.

                “Thanks Ellen, it was so exciting.” As she sat beside them she looked distracted.

                “What is it?” Sara asked, filling the third glass on the table with the ice cold chardonnay.

Charlotte sighed sinking into her seat, “nothing, just housekeeping issues! Jean just called to tell me she can’t house sit on Wednesday. So I’m struggling to know what to do.”

Ellen wasn’t au fait with this topic, “you’re away Wednesday?”

She nodded, “We go on a US tour, doing this ballet in twenty different cities. But Jean my friend’s aunt always house sits. It’s not just the dog and cats, they’re easy, it’s Champagne, she’s pregnant, so I need someone on site to keep an eye on her. I’ll have to call the agency that Sophie uses, but I’ve only got three days.”

                “Well I’ll do it! Why not? I’m at a loose end. I can still get to London if I manage to get an interview for a job, but otherwise I’m out of Mum and Dad’s hair. Isn’t that the perfect solution?”

Charlotte stuttered, “You don’t know the routine...”

                “Neither would an agency worker. Can’t you write it down for me? I mean how hard can a Newfoundland, three cats and a pregnant Exmoor pony be?”

Charlotte’s face lit up, “do you mean it? I mean what if you get a job in the next six weeks?”

Ellen chuckled, “I’m reliable, you know that. It’ll take the pressure off me to look. I’ll feel like I’m doing something worthwhile. So come on, stop stalling and start celebrating!”

It was like a breath of fresh air for Ellen, time away from her family. She’d come back to her parents because she had to, not because she wanted to, and she’d honestly envisaged some sort of job materialising within two weeks. So as she caught a train down to Brighton, she was looking forward to some time alone, without the constant concern and observations of her mother and father. She was almost twenty six, the last thing she needed was their over enthusiastic parenting. As the train surged through the countryside she opened the Financial Times, she needed to get back into the groove, and that meant getting up to speed in the business world.

Charlotte had a house that didn’t really seem to suit her lifestyle; it was a detached cottage in a few acres of land a decent stroll from the beach. She was rarely there due to her travelling, but when she was, she loved it! Ellen had only been there a couple of times, and she was looking forward to exploring the house and the area. The implications of the pregnant horse and the other animals were something she chose to ignore for the moment!

The house was a remodelled farm house, on a small cliff just above the beach, it had a small garden, walled and protected from the coastal walkways, and a large open plan downstairs. One end opened with folding French doors onto a stone patio, the other a modern kitchen with a window that overlooked the driveway. There were two bedrooms and a bathroom upstairs.

Ellen was greeted at the door by Arnold, a huge two year old Newfie, the cats Penguin, Basil and Matilda were nowhere to be found, but then it was a lovely day. She scratched Arnold’s head as she dragged her suitcase inside, then unfolded the three pages of neatly hand written instructions that Charlotte had given her and magnetted them to the fridge door.

Then she started to feed the animals, the trio of cats soon appeared once they heard the opening of tins and the rattle of biscuits. The four house animals happy, she went in search of Champagne. Dartmoor ponies are stocky and quite small and usually dark, Champagne as her name dictated wasn’t, she was almost palomino in colour, which made her desirable, coupled to that Charlotte had won many competitions, cross country, point-to-point on her, so her foals sold for rather more than the average. This was her fourth pregnancy since retiring from competition, and she was huge. Charlotte had noted that she had another eight weeks to go until she was due to deliver, she was pregnant for almost a year, but Charlotte assured her she’d be back in time for the foal’s arrival. She was stabled now at night, but let out during the day, Ellen grabbed a bale of hay and filled her hay net, Champagne took that opportunity to nuzzle at Ellen, and got a nose scratch in return.

Back inside, she warmed the lasagne she’d brought with her, and once she’d unpacked her bags, Ellen settled in front of the TV on the antique sofa to watch some TV and eat. She’d got out of sync with the soaps during her time away, so she scrolled through the channels for a drama. A thriller set in the London Met started, just her cup of tea.  She was so glad to have time to herself, she’d been pretending that her heart wasn’t breaking for over a week, and maintaining that facade was almost as hard as the heartbreak itself.

Ellen woke at half eleven, the house was in darkness and the late night news blasted out casting eerie lights around the room. Groaning, stiff from her awkward sleeping position, she turned off the TV and headed for bed.

Arnold woke her early the next morning, and despite wanting to stay in bed, she succumbed to his pestering and made her way down the cliff path to the beach. It was typical British weather, an August day, yet there was a harsh wind and an overcast sky.  Arnold being a Newfoundland dog LOVED the sea, and several times he shook the weight of his wet coat over her as they walked the beach, him diving into the breaking waves time and time again. The fresh air was exhilarating and they were both panting from their exertions when they got back to the house.

Sipping on coffee, she started on breakfast, she had to get to some form of supermarket that day, Charlotte had literally left enough for one meal in her fridge, and now that she was here, Ellen was regretting not bringing a car.

She walked into the village later that day; it was a two mile stroll. Her mind was overactive, Jan....she hadn’t let herself think the word, but now, as she walked in the warm sun, there was nothing else to occupy her mind. Since flying home she’d been busy, overly bus as she tried to block him out of her thoughts, but now as she strolled along the track that linked this house to the small village, flanked by rolling hills, she couldn’t draw anything else into her mind. She closed her eyes briefly, and saw him, though his face was blurred, his features unclear. A painful bolt of sadness hit her chest like a blow, and she almost gagged on the sensation that she was choking on the plethora of emotions. There was a small shop there, that was extortionately priced, but her only option, so she bought several bags full and managed to carry them home. It was mid afternoon when she got back, and after a sandwich found she was shattered, so lay on the sofa for a nap.

It was darkening evening when she woke, the second day written off to sleep, but she felt better for it!

For three days she relaxed, slept, ate and fed the animals, when the sun shone she sat in the garden and read her book, when it was cloudy and colder, she sat indoors and watched the waves crash onto the rocks below. She had plenty of time to think, she had so many memories of Jan, when two of the cats were chasing each on the lawn, falling over and leaping like idiots, she almost turned to him to laugh, but he wasn’t there. The smell of coffee in the morning reminded her of him, as did a Pink Panther film that appeared on TV out of the blue one evening, they’d watched Inspector Clouseau in Majorca, and he had the perfect accent for a week after. Being completely alone was difficult, nothing to distract her, but if she burst into tears, or didn’t get dressed, it was only Arnold and the cats that witnessed it, and she felt safe that they wouldn’t be phoning her sisters or parents!

On the third evening the rain was torrential, winds swirling around the house. She visited Champagne several times a day, but because of the weather had left her in the stable.  At six o’clock she made her way out to check on the mare. Immediately she panicked, Champagne was pacing, throwing back her head and trying to bite her own flank. Ellen couldn’t get close to her and she was obviously distressed. Ellen’s knowledge of horses was limited, but adding the fact that she was pregnant, she couldn’t take any chances, so she called the vet immediately. Charlotte had provided every possible contact number and within a few seconds the young on call vet was on the other end of the phone.

The vet bandied the words, ‘colic’, ‘dangerous’ and ‘fatal’ around, that was all she needed to hear to cause panic. The vet promised he was on his way, immediately.

Stood by the window she waited patiently for the vet to arrive, it was typical that this would happen on her watch; she prayed to anyone who would listen to not let anything happen to the horse, or the foal, her sister would be devastated, and she’d feel guilty forever. There was no passing traffic and the weather was worsening! Some summer! Three weeks earlier she’d been basking in beautiful sunshine, now she had this! No wonder she was so tired, she’d read about seasonal affective disorder, she definitely had that! Her body and mood missed the sun!

At last headlights appeared at the end of the drive and a large black range rover, pulled across the gravel outside the house. She’d kept her rain gear on, so dived straight out in to the driving rain. Running out to meet the car she gasped, “Am I glad to see you! She’s in here!”

As she turned to lead the vet into the stable, a voice, a familiar voice replied, “I’ve imagined this moment so many times, and I have to say, not one scenario was anything like this!”

Jan.....