Trying Not to Love You - Part Twelve

Chapter Twelve

As she was climbing into Herman for a trip to London the following morning, Martha sensed a presence across the yard, looking up she saw Sonny walking towards the farm from town. She hadn’t slept, memories of the almost kiss so vivid in her mind. It was such a long time since she’d been with a man, such a long time since she’d even been kissed that she was half filled with regrets that she hadn’t taken the opportunity to bask in that attention. But he was too close, too dangerous, and she didn’t feel that way about him. A quick fling would upset the apple cart, not that she wanted a fling with him. She was happy on her own; she’d learned that a long time earlier.

And anyway, it was nine am and he was coming home, god only knew where he’d slept the night before. She was right, he didn’t care for her, she was just another in a long line of conveniences, but they were neighbours of sorts, awkwardness between them as her father was about to come home wouldn’t be the best. With a sigh she closed the car door.

Sonny was tempted to turn around, walk away, but if he did that, she’d know that it bothered him. And he couldn’t have her knowing that. So instead, he held his head high and pretended that the look of disgust in her eyes when he’d tried to kiss her hadn’t caused him pain.

He’d gone out after that half tempted to beat Oldbury to a pulp, but Martha’s words kept echoing in his head, the pub was closed, so instead he’d gone across to Northfield to a club, he’d managed to catch up with Jonny, a man he’d drunk with on several occasions. There had been plenty of women there; lots had thrown themselves at him, much to Jonny’s amusement. But he couldn’t do it, even more of an amusement to his acquaintance. He couldn’t get Martha’s face out of his head. So he’d drunk instead, though that hadn’t really worked either. The whole evening had been a torture that he’d tolerated through a haze of vodka, before finally kipping on Jonny’s sofa. He’d got the earliest bus back that morning as he couldn’t stand to be away from his own bed for another moment.

He’d hoped to sneak back home without having to see her, Martha. But he had no such luck. There she was looking like she’d had ten hours of uninterrupted sleep, hell the light shining through her hair made him wonder if she had a bloody halo.

                “Carter.” She called out, and he stopped in his tracks as she walked towards him across the yard. “About last night...”

He shrugged, “no worries. I got it wrong, life goes on.”

She nodded, “I didn’t mean to snap, I didn’t want to hurt you, I was just shocked. This won’t affect this will it, you know you living here?”

He’d heard enough, with a noncommittal shrug and a half snarl he laughed, “it was a quick kiss, hardly the end of the world.”

                “Ok.” She said awkwardly, “I just wanted to clear that up.”

He shrugged again, then gave her what she could only describe as a derogatory look, “Martha, get over yourself.”

Then he stormed off ignoring the hurt and humiliation in her eyes.

Stephanie looked at her goddaughter, sat on the swing in the garden and could only imagine how horrendous this was for her. She’d advised her to leave things, let the restaurant fold, but she knew that Martha lived a life already filled with guilt, there was no way she’d abandon her father in his hour of need. Ethan ran across the grass and threw himself in to Martha’s arms and she hugged him tightly, her eyes closed. How she must miss the four year old when she was back at the farm.

Stephanie opened the door, carrying two mugs of coffee out into the fresh afternoon.

                “You ok?”

Martha looked up, tears in her eyes, wondering how she was going to leave this house, leave her darling again in a few hours.

Ethan was now climbing the slide in the corner of the garden all the time calling to Martha, “Mum, Mum, look at me!”

Martha tried to fight the tears but was losing the battle, “I’m fine.” Then she looked at her son, “that’s amazing baby boy.” He was so unlike his father, dark hair, blue eyes, like her, and his face was cherubic, even if she did say so herself. When she looked at him she saw an extension of herself and no resemblance to the man who fathered him. From the moment she’d seen his image on a fifteen week ultrasound, she’d been besotted. And to bring him into the world, to live safely, she’d had to sacrifice everything. She barely saw her father; she had left the place she called home, just to keep this little life safe. He’d been conceived in a hell filled relationship, most of the five year relationship with Scott was blotted by the dramatic and painful end of their engagement. But when she looked at Ethan, she couldn’t regret anything. If she hadn’t been with Scott, if he hadn’t been how he was then she’d never have had the light of her life. And he was perfect.

                “What’s changed? I know it’s hard, but you seem...” Stephanie perched beside her.

                “I miss Ethan every single moment I’m there.” That was the truth, but the previous evening her equilibrium had been upset by the dark haired moody man who had driven a wedge in her life. He was making her challenge things, making her doubt her judgements, her decisions, and her desires. And upsetting what little control she had.

Stephanie nodded, “you knew it wouldn’t be easy. Why don’t you risk it? Take him back with you?”

Martha laughed, “Scott would find out Steph, you know that, you know how it is. If he finds out about Ethan it will all end there. Don’t you see that? I’m not risking this, he’s too important to me.”

                “But it’s not fair on either of you doing this, he misses you so much. He cries at night, he gets up every morning expecting you to be in bed...and you’re not.”

She nodded, tears in her eyes, heart breaking at that thought, “I assure you I miss him more, but I can’t lose him. I have to think of him.”

                “No court would take him from you Martha.”

Sighing she looked at Stephanie, her godmother was the most glamorous woman she knew, always immaculate, always beautiful, and so perfect in her treatment of her. Since she’d called her the day she was leaving town Stephanie had been a mother, grandmother, sister and best friend all in one. She couldn’t have had better support.

“Scott Oldbury does not play fair; he would snatch him, at the first opportunity. He would never wait for the law. He’d do it just to spite me, even if he didn’t want Ethan, but I know he’d want him too.”

                “What about his father? Can’t you speak to him?”

Martha had always got on with Scott’s father Michael, he was a decent human being, in fact he was a huge part of this other life. He was a titled man, a true gentleman, and his offspring at some point had become the spawn of the devil. When she’d found out she was pregnant she’d spoken to him, begged him to help her. And he hadn’t failed her. Michael Oldbury wanted nothing more than a dynasty, but instead he had a wannabe gangster son and no options for the future. When he knew about Ethan, he was ecstatic. And since the first conversation he’d sent her money, money to help her survive, to keep Ethan away from Scott, both of them knew the consequences of him finding out he had a son. And whilst it meant that the old man missed out on a grandchild, as did her own father, he had the assurance that he was safe. Previously Scott was financially dependent on his father, but a few presumably good decisions and investments had yielded his own fortune, and it meant that not even his own father could influence him anymore.

She shook her head, “Scott came to the farm, last week, threatened me...hurt me... He’s got no morals, he’s evil. I doubt even Michael can influence him now, he has his own interests, his own money, Daddy Moneybags is no longer that important, so he’s got no ability to bargain. I think Scott is capable of worse than kidnapping Ethan.”

                “Then leave, come back here. Carl will understand.”

Martha sighed, she’d never felt more like abandoning her father again. But she couldn’t do that, not until he was well.

With a heavy heart, once bedtime came around and Ethan was fast asleep, Martha got back in the MG and headed to the farm, first via the rehab unit, and the relief of seeing her father walking back and forth the ward. He was about to come home, and they were just waiting for a date, and he was starting to get excited, he'd been so flat until then.

The restaurant was full, and for once things were running smoothly, Paul was in control, the chef was calm, he’d been erratic over the last few weeks, so after talking to the staff, sorting out a few issues, she headed home, to a dark house.

Lucy was snoring softly in the armchair; Martha woke her and helped her up the stairs to bed, then headed back to the kitchen. Despite the house having two living rooms she seemed to spend all her time in the kitchen.

Cooking as usual was therapeutic, so she started on a curry, her favourite, and something her dad loved, she intended to take some to him the next day. He’d appreciate that. Despite it being after ten o’clock she had no hint of sleep in her, sadness and remorse engulfed her every time she left her son.

Her phone ringing disturbed her, looking down she saw James’ number. Calling at after ten? That surprised her.

                “Hi James.”

                “Hi Martha, can you speak to Gemma?”

Martha moved the phone from her ear and stared at it in bewilderment, before holding it back to her ear and asking “who’s Gemma?”

                “Gemma Arthur, she’s one of the regulars here, she wanted to ask you something.”

She had no idea who this was, but she was a little cornered, “ok.”

                “Hi, I’m looking for Sonny, he was supposed to meet me at lunchtime, he didn’t turn up. He still isn’t here. He lives near you. I’m worried something’s happened.”

Martha recognised the voice, realising it was the voice she’d heard giggle often enough as the owner, the fake breasted blonde, constantly wrapped herself around Sonny, and she didn’t appreciate this imposition, “look, he lives in one of our out buildings, but I have nothing to do with him.”

                “But he’s not answering his phone.”

Martha sighed, “look if you know anything about him you’ll know he would have no interest in me checking up on him, he may have changed his plans. He does that a lot.”

                “But he normally calls, honest.”

Martha shook her head, she didn’t want him in her mind, not tonight, “look, he may be over you, he changes women more often than his socks, you’ll get over it. Sorry.”

Hanging up she finished the curry, once it was simmering she fished in the fridge for some white wine and poured herself a glass. All the while she kept thinking about Sonny, a nagging worry at the back of her mind. There was no sign of him since she’d got back; normally he was lurking around somewhere.

Another glass of wine later and she was still feeling unsettled. So she decided to go with her instinct, just check his room. He’d be out, he was always out, but if she checked then she’d know.

Cutting through the utility room into the feed room, a door to her left led to the coach house. Opening the door she knocked, then called out his name.

                “Carter? Are you here?” She’d never called him anything but his surname; it helped her keep her distance from him maybe.

The ground floor bathroom was empty, so she started on the stairs, still calling his name, praying she wasn’t about to walk in on him in flagrante with one of the locals.

                “Carter?”

She pushed open his bedroom door, noticing how sparsely decorated it was, there was no sign of life and the room was dark other than the chink of light from the door. Shaking her head, she made to close the door when she heard a groan.

Reaching for the light Martha flicked it on, then gasped, lying, or rather draped across the top of the bed was Sonny, or at least she presumed it was him. His face was bloodied and bruised and his clothes ripped. He was barely recognisable.