Trying Not to Love You - Part Eleven

Chapter Eleven

When Sonny knocked the kitchen door he was met by Martha an apron over the pale t-shirt she wore. A bottle of red wine sat on the table along with a few slices of hand cut buttered bread. The smell in the kitchen was divine. Who’d have thought that a casserole would be so appetising? His only other memory of chicken cooked that way was the slop that got served up in the children’s home he’d been in, not great memories, and not great food.

Smiling he followed her into the warm kitchen.

                    “It smells amazing.”

She finished washing the dishes at the sink, nodding in the direction of the wine, “help yourself. It should be white with chicken really, but I love a Spanish red.”

Ten minutes later they were eating in silence, only the radio cutting through the quiet.

                    “You are some cook Martha,” he sat back; his hands linked across his full stomach and watched her as she finished her food. “Who taught you?” He knew her mother had died when she was young.

Martha let out a laugh, “duh! My father runs a restaurant.”

                    “So you spent time there? He’s not a chef is he?”

She shook her head, “he can manage a bit more than beans on toast, but no, he’s no chef.” She watched Sonny as he refilled her glass with more of the wine. “I learned from Mario Mancuso, he was a Sicilian chef who worked for my father.”

He watched her blush and knew there was more to the story, “culinary education?”

                    “You could say that,” she offered coyly. Suddenly her mind was flooded with memories of a time when she’d been young, innocent and completely besotted by the flamboyant and extrovert man who had arrived from nowhere and set the town alight.

                    “Soft spot?”

She laughed, “he was amazing, and yes I fancied him.”

Sonny ran his finger around the rim of the glass and she found herself watching his hand intently, “how old were you?”

She paused for a moment, “sixteen, fresh faced and very naive. He was very worldly, thirty, and damn handsome.”

                    “Italian accent, a chef - great food, way to a woman’s heart hey?” He was winding her up, she knew that, and it was working.

She blushed again, and Sonny leaned forward suddenly his humour more subdued, “you slept with him? A man nearly twice your age?”

She swatted at his hand, “you question me that when you’ve shagged all and sundry in this town?”

                    “We’re not talking about me, we’re talking about you! I would never do that.”

She was defensive of Mario, they’d been good friends, “it wasn’t like that Carter, we spent time together, he worked here for eighteen months, I helped out on weekends, after school. We spoke a lot, we were friends first.” He raised his eyebrows theatrically and she laughed, “don’t judge me or him! I didn’t choose to take things further lightly, and it was me that pushed him.”

                    “I bet you did. The perv fought it every step of the way no doubt.” He was trying so hard to keep a straight face, it was so pleasingly normal to tease her. It was a long time since he’d been so relaxed with someone. And it was encouraging to know that Miss Holier-than-thou was anything but...though the thought of such a predator getting his hands on a young Martha wasn’t a pleasant thought.

                    “You sit there reaping the rewards of his teaching!”

Shaking his head he tried not to laugh, “it’s not his culinary skills that I’m talking about, you know that!”

She giggled, “you’re not about to reap the rewards of any other lessons!” Then blushed at the sudden outburst, immediately regretting it, looking up she saw that Sonny was seemingly equally as awkward.

                    “Oops!” She offered with a laugh.

Sonny threw his head back and laughed like he hadn’t in ages.

                    “So who did you lose your virginity to?” she asked once he’d calmed again.

                    “He was your first? The bastard chef? Lucky I didn’t grow up around here, I’d have taken him down for that!”

She shook her head, “it wasn’t like that. And I suppose I could have had some torrid turbulent affair with some other teenager...god knows where that would have gone.”

He laughed, “but you look like such a good girl.”

                    “I was...I was working while everyone else was partying. Maybe that was the appeal? Anyway, you’re changing the subject. Who was your first?”

He took a long slug of wine then sighed, “Michelle, she worked at the kids’ home I was in.”

Her eyes widened, “hang on...she WORKED in a CHILDREN’S home? That is wrong on a whole different level. You were under sixteen I presume?”

He nodded, “fourteen and three months. Though I’d have passed for seventeen, that was half the problem.”

                    “But she WORKED there! O-M-G! That is disgusting Carter!”

He laughed, “may have been a breach of trust, she’d have lost her job if I’d said, but to be honest I was never going to say anything.” Her behaviour was better than most of the workers there and at least he consented to it. Shuddering at horrible memories he tried to clear him mind.

                    “Young male hormones, hey? Only seeing the benefit in the abuse.”

He turned a little pale then, “it wasn’t abuse!” It was a snap that was uncalled for, so he followed it up with a smile, “was great though. Never looked back.”

                    “First of many!” Standing she shook her head in wonder then made for the utility room, coming back with half a walnut cake and another bottle of wine. “Wanna watch the film or listen to music?”

He shrugged, “either. Just happy chilling.”

She cut him a piece of cake and handed it to him, “you can choose a CD then. What music do you like?”

He shrugged again, “no preference.”

Looking at him she paused, “really? Not a music fan?”

                    “I hear music in pubs, on the radio...when I’m out.”

Standing she nodded towards the door, “come on. Music is EVERYTHING, a soundtrack to life. When I was a kid every Sunday we’d sit in the front room and my Dad would pick an album, vinyl you know? I’d sing the words if the lyrics were printed, my Mum and Dad would dance whilst she was alive, then maybe I would dance after...when my Dad was up to it. They are my greatest moments. Every song is a memory. Come into the music room!”

Within moments they were in the front room with the bottle of wine, Martha cross legged on the floor in front of the stereo, Sonny stretched across the arm chair beside her.

                    “Now this...” she held up a cover as she queued up the record on the turntable. “This reminds me of my seventh birthday. This was a gift from my mother...though she loved it really.”
He took the album cover off her and read it, “Tom Petty? Not sure...”

Learning to Fly started and she sang along, before taking him back into the eighties, seventies and even some sixties, pulling out albums and selecting odd tracks. Each with a story from her past. Sonny listened, completely absorbed in her world, her animated tales, her enthusiasm.

                    “So what do you like? I mean you’ve told me about your parents, what do you listen to?” He loved watching her talk, she had such enthusiasm, such vividness when it came to her childhood, and it stunned him, he couldn’t remember one thing that made him smile or wistful of his time before leaving care. Not even when his mother was still alive.

Smiling she reached in her back pocket and pulled out an iPod, connecting it to the stereo she lifted herself up to the other chair and relaxed as her favourite play list started. As they both reclined, sipping at the wine she told him about each of the songs, and why she liked them. Her taste was very varied, though he wasn’t familiar with much of it.

Later he left, heading back to his quiet room, but on the doorstep she placed a hand over his. “I’ve only ever seen you with junk food, and I doubt you eat breakfast.”

                    “Does coffee count?”

Shaking her head she groaned, “no it does not. I want you to come in, eat breakfast, and dinner here. The nights you are here that is. Ok? There’s always enough to go around.”

                    “What about Lucy?”

Martha laughed, “I gave her the God guilt talk earlier, she’ll be fine.” When he looked a little uncomfortable she smiled, “we generally eat around six. If you’re here come in, yeah? If not, no pressure.”

He nodded, part of him wanted to run away, but the other half was quite touched, no one had ever done anything like this for him, taken time, given without expecting anything back, no one but her father.

                “Come to the cinema with me?”

Martha looked up from the inch deep piles of paper making sure not to disturb the accounts that she’d spread out across the restaurant counter. There was an office out back, but as the place was empty she preferred to work in the light and airy restaurant. It wasn’t a huge place, sitting forty people comfortably, over the years it had been decorated in many ways, but now as she glanced up from the counter that ran along the back wall and was home to the bar, she smiled. The red gingham table clothes and the landscape photos that lined the walls would never win design awards, but there was something to be said for homely and comfortable. She knew that people felt at home there, and in this part of the world that was what brought people back, home comforts and good food.

Stood in front of her was Paul, Helen’s older brother, he was a part time waiter at the restaurant and had turned up early for work. Since she’d been back in town he’d been hinting at them going out.

                “I’m not really in the right place...” she offered.

He laughed, “and I am? I’ve been on my own with two kids for about three months, and to be honest it’s going to take a long time to get over Maggie walking out on the three of us with no warning.” His recent break up had been hot gossip just before she returned to town. His never good enough wife had left him for a man she met on the internet. He’d worked fulltime up until then, but since becoming a single father he’d dropped his hours considerably, and that was only one of the headaches that Martha faced.

“But we’re old friends, and it’d be nice to get away from here and just have a laugh. We always got on.”

Martha smiled, “you’re right, until I started dating Scott.”

His face contorted, “the man’s an idiot, and he never deserved you.”

What did she have to lose?

                “Ok. As long as we can see a rom-com, I hate horror.”

Sonny watched the car pull away from the house and could barely deal with his feelings, this woman! She was so far under his skin that he couldn’t cope. Everything she did irritated him, wound him up, and now he’d seen her going out with some bloke. It irked him and he didn’t know why, maybe because Miss Holier-than-thou was no different to him really?

He headed to the bookies, but despite being glued to the horses, he couldn’t shift his bad mood. In the pub James was prancing around, acting as though he was Lord of the manor, and that irked him too. He felt that familiar veil of red mist approaching, and he so wanted to control it, so wanted to NOT lose control.

                “Come and join us.”

He looked up to see Eamonn and Bill sat at a table with a pack of cards. He liked the two men, and since helping to fix Martha’s car they’d spent many an evening sitting, usually playing brag, occasionally poker. They were good company and challenged him at most games of cards. Once they got into half a dozen hands, their table was busy, and there were eight people playing. James wouldn’t let them play for anything more than chips, but the game was all about pride anyway.

Moving to the bar he waited rather impatiently as James served everyone bar him, when he had no choice but to look at him the two made eyes contact.

“Whisky, straight, large.” He spoke to James when he approached, deliberately being impolite.

They hated each other, and they both knew it.

Sliding the glass to him across the bar, James took the money then added, “leave Martha alone. She’s been through a lot and doesn’t need someone like you giving her shit.”

Sonny took a deep breath, this wasn’t the first warning he’d received about a woman, but this one was misplaced, not that he’d tell James that. “Since when have you had any control over me?” He gestured with his head to a group of girls sat in the corner, “you just don’t like it that Gemma likes me, not you...” He was rewarded with the other man flinching, and he couldn’t stop his lips curling into a smile, “taking things you desire makes them even more pleasurable, surely you’ve realised that by now? And that’s what you’re doing isn’t it? Warning me off Martha so you can have her yourself? I’ve seen the way you look at her!”

If James turned any redder, Sonny feared he might explode. So with a laugh he made his way back to the card game.

                “So how was your date?” Martha paused with her hand on the back door. She’d had a nice evening, good company. Paul had never set her world alight, but it hadn’t been about that, it had been a pleasant time with someone interesting.

Martha rolled her eyes not bothering to turn around, “you’re not my father Carter, please.”

He laughed, “too right I’m not, if I was there’s no way I’d tolerate the things you do.”

Turning she rolled her eyes for his benefit this time, “nice one wide boy! Like you’re the model citizen. What the hell have I done anyway? The other night you were laughing that I wasn’t ‘getting any action’.”

Sonny widened his eyes angrily, “Do you know anything about this bloke?”

                “Seriously? Now this is hilarious! You are like a tomcat, screwing everything that moves, is there anyone left in this town that you haven’t fucked? Yet you question me when I go out with an old friend.”

He pulled his mouth into a snarl, “at least I don’t put myself in ridiculous situations with strangers.”

She squared up to him, “I know Paul, have done a long time, he’s a nice guy. I’ve had at least a dozen conversations with him today, BEFORE I went to the cinema tonight. And that’s not a euphemism for anything else, we had dinner and watched a movie then he brought me home. When was the last time you actually had a conversation with a woman?”

He was still scowling but there was no answer forthcoming so she laughed, “exactly, DON’T judge me by your standards. Ok?”

Sonny lowered his eyes for a moment, “I feel responsible for you, ok? I worry about you.”

                “Try worrying about yourself, because from where I’m standing there’s only one person on a one way mission to self destruction, and it’s not me.”

As she made to turn away he reached out and grabbed her arm, then froze as she grimaced in pain. Sliding the loose sleeves of her shirt up her arms he saw the fading purple bruises, then repeated the act on the other side. When his eyes returned to hers there was pure venom there.

                “He did this to you? I’ll fucking kill him.”

She gave a nervous laugh, “Paul? Don’t be stupid, he’d not hurt a fly.”

                “Then who?”

He stared at her, waiting for the name, wanting to rip the person to shreds, when she said nothing, dropped her eyes in what was that? Shame? He saw red.

                “Oldbury? When the...”

She lifted a hand to his lips, silenced him, “let it go. This is not West Side Story, and I have no intention of picking your broken body off the floor when whatever feud you’ve got going with him ends. I can fight my own battles. OK?”

He scowled at her, “West Side what?”

Martha sighed, “it’s a play? A film?” When he looked puzzled, she merely shook her head, “my honour is not some prize in a gang fight ok? There’s one of you, and a lot of him. He has Gripper, that ginger bloke, several more...I don’t want you getting hurt because he grabbed me a little hard. I told him to piss off and he did. Job done.” It was a lie, but it didn’t help to let him know that. She’d seen the tension between the two men when they’d met, and he obviously hated Gripper. The last thing she wanted was to see things escalate.

                “He’s out of order.”

She nodded, “that might be, but to be honest, there’s more to worry about. Dad comes home soon, that’s my priority, and keeping this place safe. What I don’t need is Scott suddenly targeting us.” The fact that she newly suspected him as the saboteur was something else that she didn’t need to share.  

                “It’s my obligation to look after you, your father trusts me...”

She smiled, he had such an earnest expression, that it was almost endearing. “Then think of him in all this, he doesn’t need a war.”

He wasn’t convinced, his face was a mix of emotions and the atmosphere between them was suddenly very tense.

                “Trust me Carter, ok?”

His hands were in fists at his side, he’d obviously never had to deal with restraint like this.

                “I can’t see him touch you again. OK? I owe Carl that.”

                “I love that you care so much for my father, very few do, but please let this go, I’m not seeing you in a hospital bed over bravado. You’re worth more than that.”

With a sigh, she turned away from him not waiting for a response, and reached for the door, but he beat her to it, pressing both hands against it either side of her head, forcing it to remain closed. His body super close to the back of hers.

                “Martha.” His voice was a warm breath on the back of her neck. Suddenly her heart was racing and she could barely function. What the hell was he doing? This was suddenly all SO wrong.

                “Carter, what are you doing?”

His answer was an exhalation, warm breath on her sensitive skin, and then she could feel him lift the hair from her neck, his fingers touched her just below the ear. Before she had the chance to deal with what those fingers were doing, he had spun her around, pinned her to the door with his body weight.

Martha tried to speak but his lips descended to hers.

At the very last moment she turned her head, pushed him away. He wasn’t expecting that, which is why it was so easy to move the bulk of a man. And she was glad when he stepped back, away from her.

                “What the fuck do you think you’re doing? I’m the only woman left in town you haven’t screwed? Is that it? Am I today’s conquest? Another notch on the bedpost? Does this give you a full house?”

                “I thought we...” For a moment he looked like a little boy, the hurt, the pain...but Martha couldn’t feel sympathy. Instead she opened the door, and dived into the kitchen, locking the door behind her.

She stood there leaning against the closed door for long seconds trying to fathom all that she felt, at the same time her pounding heart was slow to recover. It was a long time since she’d kissed a man, or been kissed, not that he had kissed her. Though he’d wanted to...but she didn’t, that was the last thing she wanted. Honestly.

It was a long time before she heard him move away, footsteps over the cobbles. And even longer before she could pull herself free of the solid support of the door and climb the stairs to bed.

Sonny stormed into the coach house and got changed; he was too wired, and far too angry to sleep. The bitch! She was being nice to him, telling him she cared; he thought that was what she’d wanted. And now? She was laughing at him. The pain of rejection was like a knife to his heart.

Pulling on black jeans and a thin knit sweater, he poured a measure of vodka, knocked it back, then headed out. He knew EXACTLY where he was going.