Trying Not to Love You - Part Seventy Four

Chapter Seventy Four

Martha held up a hand, stopping what had rapidly become a slanging match, almost unidentifiable insults being traded at a rate of knots.

                “Will you all stop? Bloody hell.”

She turned to her father, “I deserve to hear whatever is going on from you.”

Carl had the decency to look both speechless and embarrassed, “I...”

Lucy reached for her arm and Martha turned to look at her Aunt, “what happened?”
Martha dreaded the answers, she already had some of her own ideas as to what happened, and it was making her feel sick.

Lucy sighed, “these two had an affair. Before your mother died.”

Carl’s head dropped and even Stephanie had that smirk swiped from her face. “My poor sister trusted these two more than anything, and that’s how she was repaid.”

                “It wasn’t like that,” her father said.

Lucy shook her head and when Martha looked at her she saw tears in her eyes, “she was pregnant. She needed your help to deal with things, and you two were too busy screwing each other. And that breaks my heart. She was a good woman...”

Martha was gasping, she’d imagined an affair, but so close to her mother’s death, “did she know. Did she know when she died?”

The three adults stopped and all turned to her. It was her father who spoke, “it was wrong Martha, I won’t deny that. But there were extenuating circumstances.”

                “DID SHE KNOW?”

He nodded, “she found out the day she died. But it was long over by then.”

She hung her head for a while, “what she found out as she went into labour.”

He shook his head, “she hurt herself...that started off the labour, it was early, twelve weeks too soon. There’s not a day goes past when I don’t blame myself for her dying.”

                “Her and my brother.” She snarled, “you bastard. All these years you’ve lied to me. Told me a tragic story, do you have any idea how sorry for you I’ve felt? All these years wondering how you managed to get through the trauma of losing your son and wife, the PITY I’ve felt for you.”

She looked at Lucy and gave a sad smile, “I’m sorry Lucy, you’ve always hinted that things weren’t right, I should have listened to you about a lot of things in my life. Instead I’ve always listened to those two scheming bastards.”

Stephanie looked distraught, her father devastated, but she couldn’t deal with that now. She was the avenged one here; she was the one who’d had to live without her mother, virtually all her life. With a shake of the head she marched upstairs then proceeded to empty cupboards and drawers into the suitcases and bags that were stored under her bed. She had no intention of returning to the house again.

Back in the kitchen her father was crying, openly, as was Stephanie, they both looked up when they saw her laden.

                “Don’t go Martha, please.”

She shook her head, “you preach about destructive relationships, you made Sonny out to be the lowest of the low. Yet all the time you were harbouring this dirty scandal.” She shook her head, “the irony is if you hadn’t decided that you wanted to rekindle the old love, then I may never have known. You two, YOU are the selfish ones; YOU have rode roughshod over everyone in your lives. YOU two are disgraceful. Do you hear me?”

When neither answered, she stormed out.

She snuck into the pub, glad that the door to the living quarters was just inside the door that let her get behind the bar. It was heaving in there, but with her overnight bag only, the rest were in the car, she snuck upstairs.

To find Sonny sat on the sofa, Ethan almost asleep in his arms.

                “He woke up; don’t think he knew where he was.”

She sighed, “I shouldn’t have left him. It’s pretty hectic down there.”

He nodded, “need to help Pam, though one of the youngsters turned up after you left. We’ll cope.”

                “I’ll get him into bed. I’ve got his pj’s. We won’t put you out too long.”

Sonny stood up and walked towards her, “you are welcome here as long as you want. You above everyone else. Ok?”

She nodded, “I don’t know what I’d have done if you weren’t here.”

He grinned, “coped, like you always do. You can deal with anything Martha, don’t forget that.”

Sighing she followed him to one of the bedrooms, “think tonight has challenged that.”

Looking down at her he smiled awkwardly, “I’ll be up when we close, if you need me...”

She smiled, “I’ll call.”

Ethan once in his pyjama’s and a comfy bed fell asleep. So Martha made for the lounge, and whilst the TV played the second Bridget Jones movie, she was unable to focus on it; in fact she was unable to concentrate on anything. It was hell, a living purgatory.

She was sat there staring into space when Sonny appeared in the doorway, “stragglers are just drinking up, I’ll lock then be here. You want a drink?”

Her answer was a shrug, and he smiled, “I’ll choose!”

True to his word he turned up fifteen minutes later with a huge bag of kettle chips and a bottle of red wine. Tossing them down on the coffee table, he disappeared into the kitchen, coming back with two tumblers.

                “I have literally got the two beds and sofa they left here, I’m going to have to start buying wine glasses, scatter cushions and rugs.” He laughed. “You’ll have to help.”

Her response was a morose grunt; she wasn’t in the mood to discuss soft furnishings, not when her world was crashing down around her ears. Taking the hint he poured them a glass each then sat back and watched her, waiting.

The film on TV had long since finished, and they were watching a rerun of two and a half men, he quite liked the show generally, but tonight it was merely background.

                “I’m worried about you.” He finally offered when he started on their second glass of wine.

At last she looked up and met his eyes, “everything was a lie.” She shook her head, “I’ve based my life on the words of a lying man, and her.” Her tears were both anger and frustration and she ducked her eyes from his, but it was too late, he’d scooted along the sofa to pull her into her arms.

As she sobbed her heart out, he murmured words into her ear, nothing of substance, but hopefully enough that she knew he was there for her. Eventually the tears seemed to ease and he smiled, his lips touching her hair.

                “Getting a sense of déjà vu here.”

Looking up at him she groaned, “I’m sorry. I’ve ruined another t-shirt.” She pointed at the damp patch from her tears.

He shrugged, “I’ve had worse. And I’ll survive. Some people will do anything to make me take my clothes off!”

It was a mistimed and probably inappropriate joke, but she laughed regardless. Then in an almost hysterical way told him, “they were having an affair years ago...it was why my mother died, she couldn’t cope with it.”

Sonny grimaced, this was massive, even bigger than he could ever imagine. All he could do was hold her hand and shake his head in wonder.

                “I hate them Carter, I hate them for lying, I hate them for cheating me of my mother and brother, and I hate them for thinking everything is ok now.”

Slowly she told him all that had happened, Sonny fell between feeling stunned and extremely angry, he’d never felt so aggrieved for someone else. And Martha didn’t deserve it.

He dived downstairs a little later to get another bottle of wine. It was needed. By now they’d moved into the kitchen and were sat opposite each other at the table there.

                “So what do you do now?”

She shrugged, “I don’t know.  I’ve spent all my life trying to get this back.” She gestured around herself, but he knew what she meant, her family. She’d lived in exile for years dreaming of being back with her father...and now that she was it had all become a hideous mess.

                “Stay here. With me.” When she rolled her eyes he laughed, “I know you don’t love me anymore, but I’m here for you.”

She blushed at that, dropped her head.

                “You told Michael, that we’d never be more than friends again, that you don’t love me. I heard that.”

Sonny hated that he’d suddenly made this about them, but it had been eating away at him for weeks.

                “Was that before or after you repeatedly screwed Jade?”

He groaned, “don’t throw that back at me again, you TOLD me to date her, to get over you.”

She sighed, “yes I did.”

Standing he paced the room angrily, “why is this always MY fault? You push me, then pull me. You tell me to move on, then you stir things between me and Jade. I don’t understand what you want anymore, YOU stopped loving me Martha.”

She shook her head, “let me remind you that it was YOU that ended things, you that ran off without as much as a word. You have NO idea how that feels.”

                “I was wrong, I allowed people to bully me into what they wanted and I lost sight of what I wanted. What I still want.”

She laughed, “your bed is still warm from Jade Carter, I’m no one’s second best.”

Turning towards her he scowled, “I’ve NEVER said you were anything but the best, TOO good for me, that was always the problem.”

She stood, “I’m not having this discussion, not now, not when you’re so angry. Haven’t I been through enough tonight?”

He slammed the door, forcing her to stay in the kitchen with him, “I’m sorry that this is coming out tonight of all nights, call me a selfish bastard if it helps, but we have skipped around this for far too long.”

Turning back to him she squared up to him, “this is you all over, forcing things to suit you. Can’t you at least leave me to wallow in my self pity?”

                “Do you love me?”

She reached for the door handle, but he was wise to that, his hand covering hers, stopping it.

Once again she turned to him, “please.”

He shook his head, “you’re driving me insane, I don’t know what you want from me, one minute you’re pushing me away, the next you’re telling me I’m wrong. You LOVE hearing that I love you, that I can’t get you out of my mind, then you have even more enjoyment pushing me away, hurting me, telling people that you don’t love me. Did you ever?”

She snapped, “of course I loved you, it’s obvious isn’t it? I DO love you, I probably always will, but that doesn’t change things.”

                “Why not? Why can’t you stop denying this?”

Taking a deep breath she calmed herself this was too much for one night, “Carter please.”

His lips were curled into a snarl, “don’t walk away not now.”

Taking a deep breath she stared at him, “you want the works, you want what you haven’t had, family, future...I can’t be that for you. I can’t do that, ok?”

He shook his head, “what do you mean? YOU are all I want.”

She gave a sad smile, “I can’t have any more kids Carter. I can’t give you what you want. And you DO want that. I know you do. So please don’t pretend otherwise.”

                “But...” he sighed, “YOU are what I want. You are who I dream about. You are who I see in my future.”

She looked at his confused face, and reached up to cup his cheek, “I will always love you, and you will say that you don’t care about it, that it’s not a concern to you, but it is, and maybe not now, but in weeks, months, years it will be. I can’t stand by and watch you not get what you need, because if anyone wants and NEEDS a family, then it’s you. So don’t say anything else, ok? Just let me go.”

Sonny was stunned, and he watched her rush off to the bedroom where her son slept, unsure of anything anymore.

He didn’t sleep, and there was nothing more destructive for Sonny than a night of insomnia. His anger threatened to boil over, his frustration, at who he didn’t know. Carl and Stephanie for their manipulation, Martha for not trusting him, not caring enough to be honest, or Scott for being the only man who’d father a child with her. He’d not thought about the future, he never thought past the day he was living, that was a legacy of his disrupted and unstable childhood. But if he closed his eyes he saw himself with her, with Martha. That was all.

He must have fallen asleep because his bedroom was light when he opened his eyes. Then he could hear a pounding. Coming around slowly he realised it was the front door. Staggering downstairs, he reached for the door to see Carl stood there on the doorstep.

The older man looked dreadful, and so he should the voice in his head reminded him.

                “Carl.”

He wasn’t about to gush, to make things right or easy for him.

                “Can I see her?”

He sighed, “I don’t think she wants to. She’s not in a good place.”

Carl ran a hand over his eyes, “will you just ask her? Please?”

Sonny, still half asleep gave a nod, “Ok.”

Climbing the stairs he cursed under his breath, he wanted a little more sleep and then the chance to talk to Martha without her father hovering around. Instead he’d been caught on the back foot.

                “Martha?” He tapped the closed bedroom door. “Your father’s here. I told him you didn’t want to see him. Are you ok with that?”

No answer, so he tapped again. Still no answer, so he pushed the door, relieved that it wasn’t locked. But then he froze. The room was empty. Every piece of evidence that Martha had ever existed was gone.

She’d run away.