The Summer We Loved Page 6

  “Have you looked around the park? It’s just a thought, but he did hang around there a bit when he was a teenager.”

  “No, I’ll take a look, but if he’s not there, I really don’t know what to try next.”

  “Jamie will be home in an hour. If you haven’t found him by then, come back here and we’ll reconvene over tea.”

  “Right-oh.”

  Jenny put her phone back in her pocket and looked for the town plan on a billboard she had spotted close by, to find her way to the park. There were two, on opposite sides, but she had to make a choice, so she headed off in the direction of the largest one and kept her fingers crossed for a result, but on the bus back to Teak, Jenny’s hope was fading. The last bus from Upper Conworth was leaving at nine o’clock that night and it was already past four. Three hours was all the time she had left to find him before she would have to start making her way back home, defeated, having failed him.

  James and Rachel met her at the door as she walked up to the house, her stride slowing with her approach. She looked up at them, deflated. “I’m sorry,” she said and they hugged her. They brought her in to sit down and within minutes she had a hot cup of tea in her hand and a couple of Jammy Dodgers in her lap. Jenny looked at them and made a small smile.

  “I’m sorry; they’re all I had,” Rachel told her.

  “No, they’re great. I haven’t had a Jammy Dodger in years. I’d forgotten how nice they were.”

  At tea, they sat together, trying to come up with an idea of where Pete could be.

  “What about any other family?” Jenny asked, very aware that this might be a difficult subject.

  James answered. “Well we used to live around here when we were little, but Mum moved away not long after Dad left. She’s in Oxford now. She works at the university. She’s a lecturer in Classics.”

  Jenny could see the sun rising in James’s eyes as his pride in his mother shone through. She smiled. “She sounds like a clever woman.”

  “She is.”

  “And your dad?”

  His expression faded. “I wouldn’t know.”

  Silence weighed heavily on them as Jenny regretted her last words. She tried to think of something else to say. “Was there someone who would look out for him living near your old home? Somewhere else he would want to go?”

  “No. We generally kept ourselves to ourselves. There were friends, but they’re all grown up and gone now.”

  And then Rachel had an idea. “Didn’t you tell me there was a place you used to go to when you wanted to get away?” she asked quietly.

  “Yes, but… that was just a den, really. A hut in the woods where we hid when…”

  Rachel looked at him and then at Jenny.

  “You don’t think…?” he asked. “It probably fell down years ago.”

  “But it’s worth a try.”

  Twenty minutes later Jenny and James were in the car driving towards his old neighbourhood. Anticipation held their thoughts as they approached the house that had been the family home.

  He pulled up by the kerb and they got out. As Jenny watched, James just stood on the pavement, saying nothing, his eyes empty, like a door leading nowhere. She touched him on the arm. “I’ll go and ask if anyone’s seen him, shall I?”

  Jenny walked up the garden path to the front door and knocked. A minute later a woman appeared carrying a toddler covered in food. “Can I help you?” she asked.

  Jenny grinned and the woman noticed the state of her child.

  “I’m sorry. We were just finishing tea.”

  “I won’t keep you a second,” she said and pulled out a photo. “Could you tell me if you’ve seen this man around recently?” The woman looked concerned. “Don’t worry; he isn’t dangerous. We just need to find him.”

  The woman reached for the photo. “Yes. I have. Or at least I think I have. It looks like him, but he was in a bit of a state. Frightened me a little, if I’m honest, but I’m pretty sure it was him. He stopped by here earlier today. He said he used to live here.”

  “Yes, he did. Do you know where he is now?”

  The woman’s face fell. “I’m afraid not. But he walked off in that direction, if it’s any help.” The woman pointed off to one side.

  Jenny thanked her and returned to James, still standing on the pavement.

  “Well?”

  “He was here. Today. He went that way,” she said, pointing down the road.

  James nodded. “He’s there.”

  At this revelation, Jenny was expecting a sudden burst of energy, but instead they walked sedately down to a pathway and into another street. From there they walked out until they came across a gate. “We can’t go in there,” Jenny said as she noticed James beginning to climb over.

  “You can stay here if you want,” he said. “I need to find Pete.”

  Jenny didn’t need too many seconds to decide on her course of action and quickly hopped over the gate to catch up with James. The pace was picking up now and Jenny clambered over fallen trees and past deep fern gullies until they came upon an old tumbledown wooden shack.

  A few paces off, James stopped and stared. He seemed miles away. Jenny arrived beside him and cautiously moved ahead. James reached out and held her back. “No. I need to do this,” he said. His words were soft, but full of warning, and suddenly Jenny was afraid. What was she about to see? What could be so bad that she needed to prepare herself to see it? She held her breath as James approached the decaying cabin and carefully leant in.

  James disappeared inside and Jenny was left to wonder at what he’d found within. Moments became minutes, minutes, hours as Jenny waited for the verdict on their search for Pete. When she could bear it no longer, she took it upon herself to go and look. There, inside the dingy, damp cabin, she found James, squatting in front of his brother, with tears slipping silently down his face.

  Fear gripped her, as her gaze swept over Pete’s hollow form, sunken eyes and dry, cracked lips. Jenny crept quietly in. The heat radiating from him in that rotten, damp hole gave her grave cause for concern. He might not be dead yet, but if they didn’t get him out of there soon, he could be.

  Jenny noticed a slight twitch of his hand and she stepped closer and touched his face. He was burning up. The smell of alcohol was pungent in the muddy, sweating melée that had become the man before her. Slumped in the corner of the den, with his long coat wrapped around him, Pete was drawn and pale and had lost a lot of weight. She called his name, softly at first. “Pete. Peter. Dr Florin. Peter, we need you. Wake up for me, Pete. Wake up.”

  She squeezed his hand. There was little response, so she dug her knuckles into his chest, as she had been trained to do. He winced and opened his eyes. He looked around, obviously trying to make sense of things.

  “Jimmy,” he murmured as his brother wiped his face on his sleeve and tried his best to smile. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” Pete’s face filled with concern, but then his eyes began to close again.

  James managed to pull himself together. “Oh, no you don’t! I’m fine, Pete. Come on. Open your eyes. We need to get you out of here.”

  Pete’s gaze focused again. It moved over to Jenny and his brow furrowed, seemingly unable to place her.

  James tried to hoist him up as Jenny did her best to ignore the hurt his wary look was causing her.

  “Come on, mate. Let’s get you on your feet.”

  Pete tried to stand up, but fell back against the side of the cabin in pain. The wood creaked and clods of dirt fell down around them and Jenny feared for their safety. James asked her to grab Pete’s other side and they tried again. “Up you get,” he said.

  Pete wobbled to standing as, with a body under each arm, they stooped to fit under the door. Somehow they managed to wriggle him out without completely demolishing the cabin and helped him slowly back to the road. James left them then, while he ran to fetch the car and Jenny held on to him, afraid to let go.

  Jenny had seen people in far better shape oc
cupying hospital beds and she was shaken to see him in such a bad way. Too heavy to hold on to, as his legs gave way beneath him, she let him slip to the ground and sat with her back to a fence post, propping him up as best she could.

  Once they’d hauled him into the back seat of the car, Jenny phoned Rachel with the news and James drove them home as fast as he could. Jenny asked her to make up the settee again and have a doctor on route to tend to him.

  They arrived back home just as Rachel finished. At the front door she met them. She looked at the car, where Pete was lying fast asleep across the back seat and turned to her husband. “Joshua’s got chickenpox,” she said.

  James looked at her with a gaze already laden with worry. “Is he all right?”

  “He’s got a temperature. I said I thought he was a bit off the last few days. He’s been a little sod, hasn’t he? Now we know why. He’s had some Paracetamol and I’ve been fanning him.” James stepped past and hurried upstairs to see his son and Rachel looked over at Jenny, standing beside the car. Waiting. Weary. She walked over.

  As they both looked inside the car at the man lying there, filthy and in need, Jenny already knew what she had to do. “I’ll stay with him, if you’ll let me,” she told her. “I can take care of Pete and you can take care of the kids. They need you, both of you. Chances are Annabel will go down with it any minute too.”

  “But I thought you had to leave tonight to get back for work in the morning?”

  Jenny nodded. “I think I’m going to be sick tomorrow, don’t you?”

  James returned to them.

  “Jenny’s going to stay and look after Pete,” Rachel told him.

  James looked from one to the other. “Okay. We’d better get him in.”

  “We need to strip him off,” Jenny said as they laid him down on the covered settee. “He’s soaked and filthy and burning up. Feel him.”

  James volunteered to help and they peeled off his long coat, all muddy and ripped on the side. His clothes looked as though they hadn’t been changed in days and, between the two of them, they undressed him and put the whole lot in the wash. A small bottle of spirits had been smashed in his pocket, revealing the cause of the stench. He had been lying in it. Luckily for him, the glass hadn’t cut through to his skin. James fetched him some spare pants and they laid him out carefully on the settee.

  Jenny gave him the once-over to check for any injuries, and bathed him with a flannel and bowl of warm, soapy water. She noticed the cut on his face and scratches on his hands. His arms seemed otherwise uninjured. Although her gaze lingered longer than it should, she tried hard to focus on the job in hand. His brother’s presence there becoming her anchor.

  Concentrating, she quickly assessed his injuries and noticed that one of his ankles was clearly swollen. “Looks like he’s done his ankle in,” she said. “Do you have any ice I could put on it?” She placed a couple of cushions under his lower leg and waited for James to return.

  When it came to his groin, the two looked at each other, wondering who should tend to him. Neither was eager for the job, but in the end, Jenny conceded. “I’m a nurse, I’ve seen it all before,” she told him and James nodded and turned away, relief obvious in his features. She was never going to be able to tell Pete she had done that.

  That night, after the doctor had been, Jenny pulled the armchair up by the side of the settee and made herself comfortable to nod when she could. He had a nasty case of tonsillitis and a sprained ankle, nothing life-threatening, but he was dehydrated and undernourished and obviously needed taking care of. They had no idea how much or how little he had had to drink. Had Jenny not been there, the doctor was going to try and get him admitted to their busy hospital, but having found him partially rousable and with a willing nurse on tap, he was glad to let her care for him at home instead, and they were to let him know if things remained grim.

  Jenny set her watch to beep on the hour and each time she assessed his temperature and was pleased to see, by the early hours, it was improving. When it dipped, she pulled over an extra layer of blanket around him, and when it rose again, she used a damp cloth to cool his skin. He was sleeping peacefully, Paracetamol and spirits helping for now, perhaps, but he was going to hurt in the morning.

  Jenny watched him, in the quiet times, when she was alone with her thoughts and his sleeping figure, and she studied the contours of his face and arms as he drifted through the night, sleeping the sleep of the righteous, ironic but fortunate, giving his body time to heal.

  This man, who was suffering demons, was a beautifully muscled specimen. She slowly reached out and touched his arm and made contact with skin. The touch crept up her arm from the tips of her fingers to her chest as, with one eye on his expression, she stroked his forearm down as far as his hand and across the backs of his fingers. At the thought of his fingers intertwining with hers she steadied her breathing and noticed a flicker in his brow. She quickly pulled her arm away, scolding herself, as he sank slowly back into a steady rhythm. Jenny rested back in her chair and bit down on her bottom lip. She took a deep breath and quietly let it go. She was playing with fire. And fire burned.

  Pete came back to life around a quarter to five in the morning. The first rays of sunshine were just creeping across the sky, teasing the echoes of dawn, when he looked around and found himself… in Jim’s house. How had he got there? He was in the living room. He looked down and his neck hurt, everything hurt. He was on the settee, wrapped in blankets, just blankets. He checked underneath. He had someone else’s pants on, and there was a woman sitting beside him. Jen. Something distant stirred his memory. What was she doing there? How did Jenny know his brother?

  He rubbed his hands across his face and felt the sting of injury. His head was pounding and although familiar to him, this time, it seemed worse. He tried to sit up, but he was too weak. His neck felt swollen and as he tried to swallow, his throat was raw, slicing into him. He croaked and wished he had kept his silence.

  Jenny Wren. The name kept echoing through his bleary mind. In Teak? His stomach cramped as he moved his head to look around, the room tipped and rolled and he closed his eyes again. He refused to throw up in his brother’s house. Rachel would kill him. She wasn’t a big fan of his as it was, and he couldn’t blame her.

  Noticing a glass of water on the coffee table, he reached over to lift it. The cool water flowed down into his guts and he revelled in its path until it hit his stomach. He took some deep breaths and rested his head back.

  From where he was lying on the settee, he could see his nursemaid curled up against the side of the chair. Her lashes fell long and dark across her cheek and her lips were flushed. Never in a million years would he have pictured this happening and if one good thing was going to come out of this, it was here, and now. He was going to enjoy this rare moment: waking up next to Jenny, a woman he hadn’t slept with, and feeling no shame. He hadn’t slept with her, had he? The days before were something of a blur. No. He couldn’t have. He doubted he had been in a fit state to manage anything feeling the way he did.

  Her skin was peaches and cream against the beige-coloured settee, her short, brown hair like feathers he longed to run his fingers through. She lay there, her delicate hands resting flat over the arm of the chair. Innocence, he thought, such tempting innocence. While she was asleep, that was. When she woke up, Lord help him, she would be formidable. Jenny was a strong, independent woman these days, who was not afraid to speak her mind. No, he would be in for it this morning, so he’d better make the most of the quiet time.

  Her watch signalled the hour and Jenny’s eyes fluttered open. She immediately focused her gaze on Pete and sat up in surprise. Suddenly neither of them seemed to know what to say. The intimacy of the situation seemed quite at odds with their acquaintance of before.

  “How are you feeling?” she asked him, looking more than a little uncomfortable.

  Pete raised a single eyebrow. Like hell, he thought. “Rough,” he whispered.

  She sm
iled.

  “How…?” He wanted to ask her how she had got there, but it was hurting to speak. Still, she seemed to understand.

  “We found you in the woods last night. And brought you home.”

  We? How had there even been a ‘we’? “You?” he managed to croak.

  This seemed to cause her some discomfort. “It’s a long story.”

  Pete looked at his watch and raised a brow. It was early, very early and there was nothing else to do with their time. He wanted to know.

  Jenny shifted uncomfortably and then, seeming unable to look him in the eye, she focused her attention on a wrinkle on her left sleeve and spoke. “Someone had to find you. I had some days off and nothing particular to do. You’re in quite a bit of trouble, you know?”

  He rested back. So she had drawn the short straw. Lucky old her. Having to spend her days off traipsing around the countryside after him. She probably wanted to make sure he got what was coming to him. He knew she wasn’t a fan, always giving him those disapproving looks. And she had said he was in trouble at work? He wasn’t surprised.

  Looking around, he started to wonder why his brother wasn’t looking after him. “Jim?”

  “Jim? Your brother? He’s probably passed out in one of the bedrooms upstairs. I heard them moving to and fro most of the night.”

  What was she going on about?

  “The kids are ill.”

  Pete lifted his hands to his face and groaned. “I have to go,” he whispered, more to himself than anyone else. He tried to get up, but his ankle hurt. He reached to touch it, but there was no strength left in him.

  “You’ve hurt your ankle. But you’re not going anywhere in that state, anyway.”

  She was wide awake now and her nurse’s look was on her, determined and bossy. Good. It would help him ignore the disturbance she created within him. He could manage without her. Lord knows why she was here in the first place. He didn’t need her help. He pushed off the last of his bedding and tried to stand up, but his limbs were shaking. “Damn it, woman, give me a hand here!”