I Remember You

CHAPTER FIVE

Tess had been looking for some confirmation, a sign that, a month down the line, she had made the right decision moving back to Langford. She was due a good time, and that night was it. There was nothing her still-raw single state hated more than feeling like a gooseberry, but as they sat down she promised herself she’d leave early, citing preparation for the new job, leaving Adam to make his move. As darkness slid over the old building, and the lights behind the bar glowed at their backs, the welcome fire leaping in the grate, they sat down at a table and intently studied the menu.

‘Mm,’ said Adam, after that awkward pause that always joins the group of diners with menus who aren’t quite sure what to say to each other. ‘Looks great. I love the food here. It’s the best.’

‘Yep,’ said Tess. She glanced down.

‘You hungry?’ Adam asked Francesca.

‘Not sure,’ she replied, seriously. She looked at the menu again, a curtain of hair falling about her shoulders. ‘Deep fried local brie with cranberry sauce? Or chicken liver pwith onion marmalade? What is this?’ she said, laughing. ‘Caf?Rouge circa 1997?’

Adam looked astonished, and Tess stifled a laugh, not wanting to agree with her, but at the same time she felt a stab of loyalty. Almost as if, by dissing the Feathers, Francesca was dissing Langford, Adam and thus Tess’s decision to live here. She caught this train of thought and shook her head. ‘You can have a special,’ she said, pointing to the board where ‘Chicken Pie’ and ‘Lasagne’ were starkly scrawled. Francesca looked at them, sadly, as if she’d expected more. Adam gazed expectantly at her. He seemed worried she might be about to drop dead of starvation.

‘Hey,’ he said. ‘We can—’

‘No, no,’ said Francesca, hurriedly. ‘It’s fine! So.’ She put down her menu and smacked the table. ‘You two have known each other for—what? How long?’

‘Thirty years,’ Tess said at the same time as Adam said, ‘No idea,’ and they broke off, laughing.

‘And you grew up here?’ Francesca said. ‘That’s so cool. I bet it must have been a lovely place to grow up.’

‘It was,’ said Tess. ‘Just—it’s a lovely town. Small, friendly. Very…’ she trailed off. ‘We could pretty much do what we wanted, couldn’t we?’

‘Were you near each other?’

‘Opposite houses,’ Adam said, rolling his eyes. ‘Tess and Steph used to throw mud at me over their garden fence. Lovely children. My mum…’ He paused. ‘Mum was always having to tell them to stop bullying me.’

‘What a load of rubbish,’ Tess said, feigning indignation to cover the pause that always happened whenever anyone mentioned Philippa.

‘Do they still live there?’ Francesca said.

Tess opened her mouth, but Adam said quickly, ‘No. Mine—don’t really know who my dad is, he was Irish and my mum met him at college in Dublin. My mum’s dead. And hers,’ he jerked a thumb in Tess’s direction, ‘moved to the seaside.’

Francesca laughed, awkwardly, at the contrast, and looked embarrassed. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to—’

‘S’fine,’ Adam said quickly. ‘I was being—yeah.’ He smiled at her. ‘Anyway,’ he said, turning to look at Tess. ‘Langford is a beautiful town. Bit quiet sometimes, but I like it that way.’

There was a silence. All three looked down at their menus again until Adam broke the slight tension, gently touching Francesca’s hand.

‘How about you, then?’ he said.

‘Well, I’ve come here for peace and quiet, so that suits me fine,’ said Francesca. ‘Just some time somewhere new, some fresh air, chilling out, getting some perspective, walking, reading, you know.’ She spoke slowly, and gazed into the fire.

‘Sounds like a great idea,’ said Tessa, sympathetically, whilst thinking at the same time, Chilling out and getting some perspective? Who are you, Deepak Chopra? ‘Just a week or so, then?’ she asked, smartly. ‘How long will you be here?’

‘Bit more than that.’ Francesca dropped her mellifluous voice. ‘I need to not be me for a while.’

‘I know,’ Adam was murmuring, staring into her eyes. ‘But you’re here now, and you couldn’t have come to a better place.’

Tess wished she wasn’t here, in the gooseberry costume she’d been afraid of donning. She cleared her throat, and said nothing, and as the silence between her two companions grew more intense, and they held each other’s gaze, Tess wanted to hold up a banner:

IF YOU’RE GOING TO SNOG…

GET ON WITH IT!

Just as she was wondering if staying for dinner was a massive mistake, Mick appeared with a notepad, humming to himself, one bandy leg tapping out a rhythm on the floor.

‘Ready?’ he said, eyes flicking from Francesca to Adam.

‘Oh, hello, Tess! Didn’t see you there. Any reply from that advert yet?’

‘None yet,’ Tess told him. ‘Thanks, though.’

‘When’s the new job start then? You looking forward to it?’

‘Week after next, Mick,’ she said.

Mick whistled through his teeth. ‘Is that right?’ He smiled kindly at her. ‘Well. You done all right for yourself, haven’t you? Langford College, eh.’

Francesca looked impressed. ‘What, the residential place? Is that Langford as in Langford, here? I hadn’t realized.’ Tess nodded, ignoring the churning feeling in her stomach.

‘That’s the one,’ Mick said. He shrugged his shoulders. ‘Good to see you, Tess. Look at you and Adam here, your little husband, eh?’ He grinned in delight. ‘That’s what she used to call him,’ he told Francesca.

Adam rubbed his head with his fingers. ‘Oh, God,’ he said, in mortification.

‘These two,’ said Mick, jabbing his pencil in the air with delight. ‘When they was little, well—you couldn’t see the daylight between them! Like a little pair of Siamese twins. Her so dark, him so blond, riding their bikes down that lane there.’ Mick’s rich, slow voice was like the scene-setting narration at the beginning of a nature film. ‘It were ever so sweet. We all thought so.’

‘Mick,’ Adam said firmly, coming up for air. ‘Leave it.’ He smiled shamefacedly across at Tess and she shook her head, smiling back at him in embarrassment.

‘Aah,’ Francesca said, and patted them both on the back. ‘That is so sweet. Now, Mick,’ she said, getting down to business. ‘This roast with all the trimmings, what is it?’

‘Chicken, did it myself this afternoon,’ said Mick.

‘Great,’ said Francesca. ‘I’ll have just the chicken, and a green salad—no iceberg please—and some of that potato salad you made for lunch if you can lay your hands on any? And I want a glass of the Chablis—shall we just get a bottle?’ Adam and Tess nodded mutely at her. ‘That’s that, then!’ she said happily, as Mick scribbled away and then turned to Tess.

‘Er…’ Tess said, at a loss. ‘Er…Same for me?’

‘No problemo,’ Mick said, scribbling it down with a flourish.

‘I’ll have the fish and chips, please, Mick,’ said Adam. ‘And a pint of Butcombe when you’ve got a minute, but I’ll have a glass for the wine just in case. Need a hand?’

‘No, you’re all right,’ said Mick, and he walked off. Francesca turned back to them.

‘That’s adorable. So you were boyfriend and girlfriend?’

‘No,’ said Tess, a little bit too quickly. Adam glanced at her.

‘No,’ he echoed. ‘Just—when we were little, five or six. That’s what some of us—’ he glared at Tess, before grinning at her—‘used to go around saying.’

‘So the two of you never…’ Francesca made a strange flapping gesture with her hands. Tess and Adam both stared at her, then at each other, in bewilderment.

‘Joined a hand puppet society?’ Adam said. ‘No. We never joined a hand puppet society together.’

‘You know what I mean,’ Francesca said.

‘No, I don’t,’ Adam said, shaking his head at her wickedly. ‘What?’

‘I don’t know…’ Francesca had the grace to look embarrassed. ‘Had a little teenage romance when you were younger. I don’t know,’ she repeated. She looked at Tess. ‘Come on, you must have thought about it, at one stage or another.’

‘Not really,’ said Tess.

‘Er—no,’ said Adam. He shook his head.

‘So you never had a moment? You’ve just always been friends?’ She shook her head. ‘That’s weird.’

They were both silent.

‘It may be, but it is true,’ said Tess eventually, aware she sounded very prim.

‘Yeah, nosy girl,’ Adam told Francesca, and she nodded.

‘I believe you. Thousands wouldn’t.’ Tess took a sip of her drink, and Adam did the same. As if realizing the conversation needed changing, Francesca said, ‘So. It’s always quiet around here, you say? No crazy rock festivals down the road or anything?’

‘I don’t knew about that,’ Tess began, and then there was a loud noise, and the door to the pub across the bar flew open, banging loudly against the wall, and a middle-aged man burst in, palming his hair firmly onto his shiny forehead as he hurried into the bar.

‘A’right, Mick!’ he called loudly to the landlord, pushing a stool out of the way and knocking over a chair.

‘A’right, Ron,’ said Mick.

‘Meeting’s starting in five minutes, that all right with you?’

‘No probs,’ said Mick. ‘Not many people in tonight, anyway, you can have the place to yours—’

‘Save the water meadows!’ Ron shouted suddenly, with enormous vigour. Francesca jumped; Tess dropped the fork with which she had been toying. Even the more stoic Adam blinked in surprise.

‘All right, Ron?’ he called. ‘How’s it going?’

Ron turned around at that. ‘ ‘Ullo, Adam!’ he said, coming forward. ‘Good to see you! It’s been a while, you all right?’ He peered, mole-like, at Tess. ‘Hullo there, Tess.’ Tess held up her hand, and Ron’s gaze moved from her to Francesca, and turned back to Adam. ‘Right you are,’ he said to him, clearly meaning, Go on, son. ‘You coming to the meeting tonight?’

‘No,’ said Adam. ‘We’re just having some food.’

‘Suggs is organizing it, Adam, didn’t he mention?’ Ron said firmly.

‘Yes, he did.’

‘You don’t agree with them building over the water meadows then, do you? Letting that Mortmain woman get away with it again, eh?’ Ron’s voice rose, his nose twitched, as he waggled a finger—benignly—at Adam.

‘You know me, I don’t like taking sides,’ Adam said easily.

He smiled at Ron, and just as Tess was looking at him curiously, Francesca said, in her charming way, ‘Ron—it’s Ron, isn’t it?’

‘Yep,’ said Ron, non-committally.

‘Sorry to be stupid, I should know this, but what exactly is going on with the water meadows? I only got here a few days ago.’

‘You haven’t heard about it?’ Ron said incredulously, as if the idea that this wasn’t front-page news across the country hadn’t occurred to him. ‘That’s strange. You know the Langford water meadows, right?’

‘I’m afraid not,’ Francesca said politely.

‘You never heard of them? That’s—’ Ron scratched his head, as if he could scarcely conceive of such a thing. ‘Only the most precious bit o’ land for about a hundred miles, that’s all. There’s more wildlife, more plants, more birds sighted only on the Langford water meadows than anywhere else in the country. And they want to fill it in, drain the land and sell it off so we can have a bloody shopping centre there!’ He was shouting again now, his burr more pronounced than ever. ‘That bloody Mortmain woman, she’s got it all stitched up! What’s she want the money for anyway? She ain’t got no one to leave it to. And she thinks she can can ride roughshod over us all. Again!’

He held a finger up to heaven and his eyes looked skywards; he reminded Tess of a Roman statue.

‘Wow,’ said Francesca. She turned to Adam. ‘Is that true?’ she asked.

Adam nodded slowly. ‘Yes,’ he said. There was unease in his voice and Tess remembered what it was that had been bothering her; the truth about Adam and the bursary, how Leonora Mortmain had always been so unpleasant to him in particular ever since. ‘Yes, I suppose it is true. But it’s done, isn’t it? The council’s given initial early approval—’

‘What does the council know?’ came another loud voice from behind them, and Adam stood up, laughing, his deep voice echoing around the pub. Beside them, Mick put down the tray of drinks and started laying out cutlery, as Adam hugged the bearded man next to Ron.

‘You bastard,’ he said fondly. ‘I didn’t know this was happening tonight.’

‘Tess!’ said the stranger. ‘I didn’t know you were going to be here.’

‘Suggs!’ Tess said turning round. She hugged Adam’s best friend, squeezing him tight.

‘Look at you, with two ladies, you smooth bastard,’ Suggs said, sitting down happily next to Francesca. ‘I’ll join you, shall I? Meeting doesn’t start for a few minutes.’

Ron was still hovering behind Tess and Adam. ‘We need you to sort out the leaflets,’ he said, tetchily.

‘Andrea’ll do that,’ Suggs said easily. ‘I haven’t seen Tess properly since she got back. Mick, do me a favour and bring me a pint of the good stuff, will you?’ Mick shook his head, smiling indulgently. ‘Thanks, mine host.’ Suggs leaned forward. ‘You lovely ladies signed the petition yet?’

‘No,’ said Francesca. ‘Just show us where, though. They can’t do that, can they?’

‘Looks like they are,’ said Suggs, and Ron nodded. ‘It’s a right fucker. You’d think they wouldn’t be allowed—the council wouldn’t let it happen.’

‘They have, though,’ said Adam evenly.

Suggs turned to him angrily. ‘I know you love them Mortmains, because that stupid cow paid for your education and you feel like you have to crawl to her, you little sucker.’

‘She paid for you to go to school?’ Francesca said, bewildered.

‘Shove off, Suggsy,’ said Adam, tugging his hair and looking uncomfortable, but Suggs ignored him.

‘Enough’s enough,’ Suggs went on. ‘There’s a lot of people in this town who think she’s gone too far this time.’ He paused for dramatic effect. ‘You know, the Mortmains have been shafting the good people of Langford for years and she’s no better. There was Ivo Mortmain, Victorian feller, he got a girl from the town pregnant and then killed her father when he came to complain. Shot him in the face! And old Mrs Mortmain’s father, he sold a whole bit of land by Thornham and they made it into horrible box houses, not fit for a pig to live in. That were fifty years ago! And she—she turfed out the old people in the alms houses by the church fifteen years ago, just because she wanted to sell them on.’ He gripped the back of Adam’s neck. ‘Remember how angry your ma was about it?’

Adam grimaced. ‘She went round to see her.’

‘She did?’ Tess said. Adam nodded.

‘Well, exactly,’ Suggs nodded meaningfully at him. ‘His mother in a bate—you wouldn’t want to see it.’ He smiled. ‘She stormed round there and tried to persuade her, but it didn’t have no effect. Why would it? And now this. Well, we won’t put up with it any more. It’s time it stopped.’

‘Hear, hear,’ said Ron.

‘Oh, right,’ said Francesca, but Tess was looking at Adam, whose expression was set. ‘What do you think, Adam?’ Francesca said innocently.

‘I’m not saying she’s a nice woman, but I don’t take sides,’ said Adam. ‘Sorry.’ Tess and Francesca stared at him in disappointment. ‘Excuse me a second,’ he said, and got up and left.

By the time he came back, the pub was full to bursting with locals, and the mood was jolly if increasingly rowdy. Placards were being passed around, chairs were scraping on the floor, and at the front a sharp-faced woman was filling out forms, waggling a pencil at someone. Adam sat down.

‘What was that about?’ Tess started to say, but Adam held up his hand.

‘Hey, sorry. Sorry, T.’ He turned to her, and there was a look of desperation, almost, in his eyes. ‘Please, let’s not go on about it. It’s just the hypocrisy of it, that’s all.’

‘What do you mean?’ Francesca cried. ‘How can it be a good thing?’

‘I’ve lived here my whole life,’ Adam said with a twisted smile. ‘I’m just saying sometimes there are ulterior motives to things. I’m not exempt, but it’s not as simple as it seems, is all I’m saying. That development would give people jobs, it’d increase tourism. It might not be such a terrible thing.’

‘But the water meadows,’ Tess said, a catch in her voice. ‘How can you say that?’

‘Yes, and do you really want more tourism?’ said Francesca, curiously. ‘Don’t you want to find other ways of sustaining the town?’

Tess loved her then, for not being a pushover. Adam looked at her, and nodded slowly. He scratched the back of his neck.

‘You’re right,’ he said. ‘Just—anyway.’ He cleared his throat. ‘T, how’s the hunt for a flatmate going?’

‘It’s not,’ said Tess. ‘I don’t know what I’m going to do.’

‘Where do you live?’ Francesca asked politely.

‘Just past the church, towards the old hall.’ Tess turned to her. ‘I’ve got to find someone to share the rent, otherwise I’ll have to move out.’

‘What’s the house?’ Francesca said.

‘It’s a cottage really. It’s tiny, but it’s so sweet. It’s called Easter Cottage.’

‘How many bedrooms?’

‘Two,’ said Tess. ‘In fact I—’ Their eyes met across the table.

‘Can I come round tomorrow?’ said Francesca.

Tess looked at her. ‘Francesca—you mean—’

‘And if you find someone long-term, I’ll move out straight away, we can put it in my lease. Promise.’

‘Go on then.’ Tess’s shoulders slumped, and she breathed out, smiling at Francesca.

‘Are you—sure?’

Tess looked at the beautiful girl opposite her, and ran over the evening thus far in her head. Then she looked at Adam, who winked gently at her, holding her gaze. She smiled at him, then back at Francesca, as the noise from the bar grew louder. She raised her voice.

‘Never been surer about anything.’

CHAPTER SIX

One week later, Tess nodded at the portrait of Jane Austen, as she had taken to doing before she went anywhere, and stepped out of the front door of Easter Cottage. She looked gingerly about her, and then up at the sky. It had rained for the last five days, rained as she and Francesca lugged sodden cardboard box after box into the tiny little house which was now Francesca’s home, rained all that evening as they hopefully opened the back door onto the tiny little garden, where Tess had fantasized that they’d have drinks; it rained the next day, when they stocked up on food, the day after, when Francesca bought a DVD player and huge flat-screen TV without telling Tess and Tess told her she’d have to take them back; the day after that, when they sat on the sofa all afternoon and evening, made mojitos, ate Pringles and watched My Big Fat Greek Wedding (great), 27 Dresses (crap), You, Me and Dupree (which they thought was possibly the worst film ever made) and Pan’s Labyrinth—well, the first five minutes, before agreeing that yes, it was probably a masterpiece, now was not the right contextual time to dive into said labyrinth, but they should definitely keep the DVD player and the huge flat-screen TV and watch Talladega Nights instead. And it was still raining the next day, when Adam took them to the pub on Easter Sunday for lunch.

Tess had the house. She had the housemate, she had some friends. It was spring. All she had to do now was start her job. Start the process of living her life here, in this town, seeing some sort of vista stretch out ahead of her. But still, on this, her first day in her new job, it was raining.

‘Byee!’ called Francesca, from inside the cottage. Tess turned round and looked back through the front door, which opened directly onto the cosy sitting room. There, lounging on the sofa, in an embroidered silk Chinese dressing gown, watching TV and munching on toast, was her new flatmate who, this time just over a week ago, she’d never met. Tess smiled.

‘Byeee!’ she called back. ‘Francesca, remember to call BT again about the broadband, will you?’

‘Sure, sure,’ Francesca said reassuringly. ‘Good luck! Have a great time!’

A great time. Tess shut the door behind her and opened up her umbrella. She wasn’t sure about that. Her heart was in her mouth and she was tired, not having slept at all the previous night. She fingered the brochure in her bag, already heavy with textbooks and notes. Langford College had three components: year-long intensive A-level courses, in languages, History of Art, Classical Civilization, English and so on; the shorter options, intensive bursts devoted to one specialized area, anything from cookery to flower arranging to Roman Poetry, usually over a period of a few weeks; and then finally there were visiting professors who gave one-off lectures, an open-air private theatre down by the lake, lovely accommodation—all in the dramatic surroundings of Langford Hall, one of the best and earliest examples of neo-Gothic Victorian architecture, predating even Pugin.