Trying Not to Love You - Part Five

Comments? Anyone? Am so in love with this story would love to know if people are as intrigued as me? Thanks for reading!

Chapter Five

Sonny hated to see Carl Mansell looking so dreadful. His shock he hid well, but then he had had a lifetime of hiding his emotions, he was an expert. Perching a hip on the end of his bed he grinned, “they treating you well?”

He hated to see the sallow face, the drooping jaw and the way that dribbles of saliva escaped his lips when he tried to speak. Carl was the only man who had given him a chance, and over the months they had become friends, more than that in some ways.

                “So your daughter’s home, kicking everyone in to touch.”

Carl was distressed by that, so he reassured him, “she seems a sensible girl,” and he went on to explain with great humour the incident with the horses. Carl smiled, but there was the underlying worry between them both. Carl tried to speak, but it was a struggle.

                “Oldbury?”  Sonny anticipated the word. Despite Carl never mentioning her previously being with the man, they both knew that Oldbury was behind a lot of things going on at the moment.

The slur of confirmation meant that both men met the other’s eyes, and realised the implications of the situation. “Nowhere to be seen. I promised you I’d keep her safe, and I will. Trust me?”

Sonny knew that the older man did trust him, he had no qualms about that, Carl Mansell wasn’t like everyone else. The day he’d wandered into town, five months earlier he’d been hell bent on revenge wanting to avenge the man who he felt had controlled his destiny. Carl had found him as he was about to do something stupid, something that would have sent him back inside, and talked him down. He’d done what no one else had ever done for him before, he gave him shelter, and over the months so much more than that. Helping the sick man to protect his daughter was no contest. Not when he wanted to see Oldbury burn in hell himself.

Martha had been through what felt like living hell. Aunt Lucy managed to deposit the entire contents of her handbag under the seat of the Land Rover, which meant that once she’d got to town, Martha spent ten minutes fishing under the seat for Murray Mints and bingo pens, all the while the older woman shouted commands from the street. Aunt Lucy had then been suitably dispatched to her strictly timed schedule - she didn’t understand the words improvise, or spontaneity, she was all about rigour and times.

Now as she fell onto the ward from the lift trying to juggle bags and not drop anything, the sister on duty smiled, “do you need a hand?”

Martha shook her head, “unless you can create three more hours in the day then no! I just don’t have enough hands.”

The nurse laughed, “call if you need anything?”

With a nod she headed for her father’s bed, then froze. Sat at the foot of his bed, laughing, and making her father laugh was the lodger.

Both men looked up when she arrived and she dumped two full bags onto her father’s bed, “spare pyjamas, toiletries, and a sneaky half litre of whisky. Never say I don’t give you anything! Now I have to go, your sister-in-law has kept me busy far too long today. Are you ok?”

Her father smiled, nodded then reached for her hand, squeezing it softly.

                “I’ll come tomorrow Dad?”

“Don’t go Martha, I’m about to leave.” Sonny stood behind her, and she hated the all knowing quality to his voice and the sound of her name on his lips, “Carl was just saying how much he wanted to speak to you.” He turned to her father, “Carl, I’ll speak to you soon?”

And then he was gone.

Her father looked better, the drooping side of his face seemed a little more animated, and he was trying to move in bed. He was sixty, normally so strong and healthy, she couldn’t begin to imagine how he was feeling about all this.

                “So you feeling better?”

When he nodded she smiled, he didn’t need to know about her antics, that since she’d come home there had been the escaping horse issue, it was dealt with, he did need to know how hard things were for her...but not today. Instead she sat down, made small talk and whipped his arse at chess one of the only things he could do one handed.

In times of stress there was only one thing for Martha to do...cook. For her it was cathartic. She was literally up to her eyeballs in flour and herbs when Aunt Lucy appeared in from outside laden with bags, her day out complete.

                “Something smells divine.”

Martha smiled, “I’ve made fresh pasta.”

Aunt Lucy slumped into a chair and turned up her nose, “you know I don’t like pasta. I’ll have toast.”

Shaking her head Martha sighed, “toast? That’s going to be your main meal? Since I’ve come back all I can see is fast food and ready meal packaging, pizza boxes, frozen lasagne...do either of you eat proper food? He runs a restaurant for god’s sake. It’s no wonder Dad’s ill.”

Lucy chuckled lighting a cigarette, “we get by.”

                “I wish you wouldn’t smoke in here, it’s SO unhealthy.”

                “Food, fags...next thing you’ll be telling me not to drink either.”

She looked at her gaunt aunt who didn’t look the healthiest, or the fittest, but she was in her seventies and had a better social life than most and sighed. You couldn’t win every time.

                “I’ll just put the bins out, then I’ll drop you into town, what time is your bingo?”

Her aunt looked up, “Cynthia is collecting me in about ten minutes. Thanks for the offer though.”

                “OK.”

Her father didn’t recycle and not doing it was a pet hate of hers, so she was trying her best to change that as much as she could. Taking the bags to the utility room she separated them out into several compartments, then took the general waste to the industrial bin that sat near the entrance to the farm. Something that should have been an easy job became a mammoth task. And as she was locking up the outhouse her aunt called a goodbye. It was then that she spotted Sonny, out of the corner of her eye. At the far end of the stables, he’d hung a punch bag from the hay bale hook, and was punching hell out of it, the sleeveless t-shirt and joggers he wore were soaked from sweat and his short hair stood up in damp spikes.

                “Have you eaten?”

Sonny stopped dead, hearing the familiar voice to his right, and grabbed the bag to steady it; he turned to see Martha stood there, the evening sun throwing out a million different highlights in her glossy hair.

                “You what?”  He offered her a customary snarl as was the habit.

He watched her shake her head gently, “why bother?”

As she made to turn her away he called out, “Ok. Ok.”

                “I’ve made fresh pasta; Aunt Lucy thinks it’s abhorrent so ate toast. There’s far too much for one, and I’d rather not throw it out.”

His stomach rumbled as he hadn’t eaten all day, not because he couldn’t afford it, money wasn’t THAT tight, but it was habit. He’d never really sat down to eat food, he was more likely to get a bag of chips or a takeaway pizza, today he’d had to travel so he’d not had the time to think of even that.

                “Why don’t you eat it tomorrow?”

She rolled her eyes and he wanted to laugh, “I’m away all day tomorrow, it won’t keep beyond that...are you not hungry?”

He laughed, “I’m bloody starving.”

She eyed him suspiciously for a moment, then nodded, “I’ll bring it over in a bit.”

                “Cool, I’ll just take a shower.”

Twenty minutes she was walking across the yard with the bowl of ravioli, she had to make some sort of effort, after all he was visiting her father, the two men looked close. It pleased her that her father had someone looking out for him. She shouldn’t judge him on gossip, or the fact that he seemed to sleep around. That was nothing to do with her. Knocking on the stable door, it was a few moments until he pulled the door back; he was wearing just a pair of tracksuit trousers and was drying his wet hair with a towel.

As he thanked her and took the plate, she could barely drag her eyes from his chest, she’d had a glimpse of him the previous day, but close up she couldn’t look anywhere but at him.  He was broad yet not overly muscular, defined but not ripped, and there was only the slightest sprinkling of hair, around each of his flat nipples, she glanced down then blushed, there was a light trail from his belly button down to the waist band of his trousers too.

                “I said thank you!”

His voice caused her to jump, and she was mumbling incoherently as she backed away, mortified that she’d been caught gawping at him like that, she hadn’t even heard him speak.

Ideally she’d have driven back to London the following day, but her car was still not playing ball, so she had to travel first to the hospital, then on to the station to get a train to London. She had to go back, she’d promised when she left, but she had no idea it would all be this difficult. It was almost ten when she finally got back to the farm Sunday evening. She couldn’t do this every week, it was exhausting...but she had to, there was no choice in this.

Sighing she collapsed in through the front door, tired and emotionally challenged, wanting nothing more than her bed. There was a light still on in the kitchen and a note on the table from Aunt Lucy hoping everything was ok.

Ok?

She looked up to the ceiling not wanting to let the tears that threatened, fall down her cheeks. This was all too much, she couldn’t be pulled in so many directions, it was ridiculous, and she couldn’t run the farmland and restaurant, she wasn’t cut out for it.

A knock-knock at the back door disturbed her. Blinking furiously trying to regain composure, she made for the door and pulled it open. Stood on the doorstep, holding out a clean bowl was Sonny.

“I saw you come back, I wanted to return your bowl...” he stared at her, “you ok?”

She nodded, “long day.”

Sonny watched her from the door as she placed the bowl onto the kitchen table, her misery was palpable. “Is your father ok?”

She gave a sad laugh, “saw him this morning, nurses say he’s fine.”

                “That’s good. The pasta was good by the way, best I’ve ever tasted.”

She turned and looked over her shoulder, giving him a genial smile, “good.”

He felt helpless, he’d never been in situation where he didn’t know how to deal with things, but then he was no one’s saviour. “Catch you around.”

With that he closed the door, pretending he couldn’t hear her crying as he crossed the yard to his bed.

He’d been in this god forsaken town for five months, keeping tabs on Oldbury, he had no idea why the powers that be wanted him to do that, but they did. The more he learned the more he hated him, but then he’d hated him before he arrived. The first night in town Carl had found him stalking the arrogant bastard and talked him out of attacking him. Not one to share things he was amazed when the whole story came flying out. The older man had listened and nodded appropriately, then told him that revenge was best planned. All he had wanted to do was wreak his revenge on Scott Oldbury, but Carl was right. Plus he was himself involved in some very shady dealings, and if he blew their plans to shreds he could be in big trouble. He was annoying people both sides of the battle, he knew that. So now he was watching his back more than usual. He’d had a lucky escape that morning, as usual the men pulling his strings were winding him up and letting him go. And he was volatile, everyone knew that.

Shirley was behind the counter at the bookies and raised an eyebrow when he smiled at her.

                “Sonny?”

He nodded, “4.20 at Goodwood, Punters Dream, I’ve had a tip.”

Agreeably she took his form then smiled, “sure thing?”

Laughing he nodded, “hope so, for a change! Thanks Shirl. I’ll come back later?”

As it was he was fixed in front of the monitors as the race was run, came second. Without an each way bet he was out of pocket.

                “Double it on the 4.50, Lion King.”

Shirley eyed him for a moment, “if you’re sure.”

Sonny nodded, he needed the victory to boost him, that was for sure.

Martha sighed, she’d survived another night, another twenty four hours away from her life, but another day where her father survived and got stronger. That’s all she could think about really. Despite Aunt Lucy being there she was alone, she had a life that was existing without her, but she was stuck in some quasi-reality where nothing made sense.  

As she sorted out the litter once more, prepared the buildings for locking up she noticed a commotion ahead. Running towards the light she could see ahead, she started to shout, “hey! What do you think you’re doing?” As she got closer she could hear motorbike engines and see something happening in the distance.

With shouts and calls, the bikes cut off across the field and smashed through a fence. The field housed several horses, not her father’s, but some local kids. If the animals got through the fence they were only a ten minute trot from the main road into town and sure chaos.

                “Bastards!” She screamed as she watched them disappear into the dark night. It was after ten and here she was about to repair another fence. “Argh!” She screamed in frustration, then jumped up and down on the spot in anger. Looking around she saw some large branches, would they plug the hole until she dragged that roll of chain link up to this high field?

It had to.

So she managed to manoeuvre the large branches into position and made for the feed shed and repairs.

                “What the hell was that?” Sonny was stood in just a pair of sweats barefoot in the doorway when she got to the yard, “heard you shouting out, woke me up.”

She shrugged, “sorry about that, some bloody bikers just wrecked a fence. I can’t let the kids horses escape.”

He looked her up and down, “you want a hand?”

She shook her head, “I can manage. Honestly.”

                “I’m sure you can. But it’ll be quicker if I help...” as she made to protest he added, “call it payment, for dinner last week.”

It took them an hour to repair things sufficiently, and Sonny was aware how exhausted Martha looked.

                “Do you think someone’s doing this on purpose? We’re being targeted?”

Sonny hid the surprise at that comment, because that was EXACTLY what he was thinking, he’d had his suspicions long before Carl was taken ill. Instead he shook his head, “coincidence, I’m sure. How’s your father?” He asked as they dragged the fence back across the yard.

She paused to look up at him, “improving. He’s talking.”

                “I’m glad. He’s a good man.”

He helped her store the equipment, then turned to her, “you want a drink?”

                “Pub’s closed.”

Laughing he nodded towards his room, “got a bottle of whisky. You in?”

Shrugging she gave a half nod, “bring it to the kitchen.”

                “Don’t think Lucy will like me coming in. I might steal the family jewels.”

Martha chuckled, “not your fan is she?”

He shook his head, “her and half the town.”

                “She’s in bed by nine. And we don’t have any jewels.”