Back to the Farm Ch. 10

She wasn't. She suddenly felt about as far from okay as it was possible to feel, Jason's voice seeming to fade into the distance, her vision abruptly darkening. The next thing she knew, his arms were around her, holding her firm, steering her into the flat and straight towards the sofa.

"Huh," she groaned weakly as he eased her down, experiencing an unpalatable mixture of gratitude and humiliation. "Why did it have to be you? It's always you. Seen me naked, seen me sick..."

Jason crouched in front of her, his brown eyes solemn. "What can I do? Glass of water? Bowl?"

"Water would be good," she admitted grudgingly.

He nodded, springing upright again and crossing her small living room in three long strides. "Wow," she heard him exclaim as he disappeared into the kitchen. "This place is amazing. It's tiny but..."

She closed her eyes, allowing her head to drop against the back of the sofa. Over the years she'd tried hard to make best use of the space but at the end of the day, it was what it was, a glorified attic with a galley kitchen in the eaves and an even smaller bathroom. It'd been all she could afford after her mother died, though at least she'd managed to get it at a knock down price, thanks to the contacts she'd made through her job. But even then it'd needed a vast amount of work. For months on end, she'd spent every evening and weekend doing it up, stripping the walls, ripping out cupboards, painting. It'd been exhausting, but she'd been grateful for that. After years of worrying about her mother, it'd been a relief to have had no trouble sleeping for a while.

Not that she was having trouble sleeping at the moment either.

"Oh no." Sitting up with a jerk, she scoured the room for the bag she'd brought home from the pharmacy. Where the hell was it? Had she dropped it?

"What's up?" Jason asked, returning with a glass of water and the bowl she hadn't asked for. "Oh, that?" He gestured towards the coffee table where, much to her relief, she saw her purchase. "I expect there's something in there you want to take?"

He knew what was in there?

"Want me to pass it to—?"

"No!" Melissa shook her head violently as he reached forwards.

He looked taken aback. "Okay, okay. You're probably right—if you're still being sick, it might be better to wait. No point in taking anything if you're going to bring it straight back up."

Too late, she realised he'd assumed it was medicine. Accepting the glass he pressed into her chilly fingers, she took a cautious sip. "God," she murmured, feeling foolish. "I'm sorry. I just hate being ill."

"No, it's me that should be sorry. I shouldn't have come."

She managed a small smile. "But here you are anyway."

He looked sheepish, placing the bowl on the table before motioning at the sofa. When she raised no objection, he perched on the edge of the cushion, twisting to face her. "It's just I promised Archie I'd try to talk some sense into you."

"Archie?" Her heart sank at mention of the solicitor. So he hadn't come at Matt's behest? Not that she'd really wanted that to be the case, had she? Or had she?

He retrieved an envelope from his pocket. "He sent you a cheque, and you sent it straight back."

She frowned, feeling uneasy. "I told him I didn't want anything from Charlie's estate. It's not mine. Not rightfully mine, anyway."

"But it is," Jason responded, leaning forward to put the envelope on the table. "Look, I know how you must be feeling."

"You do?"

He winced. "Okay, maybe I don't. But I do know that Charlie wanted you to have your share."

"Don't tell me," she sighed, her tone laced with sarcasm. "You were there?"

"Actually..."

Melissa stared, a familiar pain stabbing her solar plexis. "Well, of course you were," she mumbled at last. "Everyone was there, right? Except me."

"Lissy—"

She shook her head. "S'okay. I'm getting used to it."

There was a silence before Jason spoke again, and when he did, she knew he'd spent the time choosing the right words. "It was a pretty tough time for Matt. He really did try to tell Charlie that you needed to know. About him being his Dad, that he was dying. But the old boy wouldn't have it, no matter what he said, no matter how hard he tried. Just got upset every time. So in the end, he always had to drop it. Charlie was dying—what else could he do?"

Melissa bit her lip. "How is he?"

"Matt?" Once again, Jason's gaze was solemn. "He's a fucking mess. You didn't call him. And you never answer your phone either, do you? Not even to Archie—why do you think I had to track you down?"

She felt another pang. "I—"

"Whereis your phone, anyway?" he carried on, looking around the room with a frown. "Archie says all he's getting now is a number unobtainable tone. Came to the conclusion there must be something wrong with it, asked me to check."

Melissa squirmed. She'd unplugged it weeks ago. Four weeks ago, to be precise, the day after Matt had left for Singapore. It'd started ringing that evening and she'd known instinctively it was him. By ten o'clock, unwilling to answer and unable to bear it any longer, she'd yanked the cord from the socket and shoved the phone in the bottom of her wardrobe. The following day, she'd unearthed a mobile phone Gemma had given her a couple of months earlier after upgrading to a newer model. Having previously never bothered with having a mobile, she'd been astonished to discover it was much cheaper to have a 'pay as you go' account than she'd thought. So much so, she'd asked the telephone company to disconnect her land line.

Jason's eyes settled on her face. "You've got a new number."

It wasn't a question, and near enough the truth for her to give him a reluctant nod.

He sighed, brushing a hand through his sandy hair. "Liss—Melissa, this is silly. He's miserable, for God's sake. He loves you."

Melissa knew he wasn't talking about Archie. "It's too late," she muttered.

"Itisn't too late. How the fuck could it be too late? You just need to talk to him, okay? You just need to—"

"What?" Deep down, she knew it was guilt spiking her anger, but the need to lash out had become overwhelming. "That's all I need to do? Who the hell are you to tell me what I need to do? Since when did you become an expert on relationships, Jason? I need to take advice fromyou? You're divorced, aren't you?"

"Yes, I am." But rather to her surprise, Jason showed no intention of rising to the bait. "I should never have got married in the first place though, should I? I did it for all the wrong reasons, I know that now. I can't believe I hurt Karen the way I did—but what's done is done. I guess I just thought that it might solve the problem, make it all go away, but boy, how wrong can you be?" He smiled then, shrugging slightly. "It never goes away. But I didn't know that then. Young, stupid. You live and learn."

Melissa gazed at him in bewilderment. "Never goes away?"

"What?" Jason's smile faded. And then his eyes widened. "You're kidding me? He never told you?"

Melissa felt an unexpected bubble of laughter welling into her throat. "Imagine that," she gulped, seeing the same flash of resigned amusement light Jason's face. "Matt not telling me something."

Lips twitching, Jason closed his eyes briefly, once again dragging his fingers through his hair. "Lissy, I'm gay."

She stared at him open-mouthed, only remembering to take a breath as he started to smile.

"You really had no idea?"

She shook her head, racking her brain, casting her mind back over the years, trying to decide whether she'd ever seen any signs. "You're a builder."

To her chagrin, he laughed. "I know. Not exactly stereotypical. Like I said, I tried to be straight. I tried really hard."

"But..." She swallowed, shaking her head again as she recalled that horrible last summer at the farm before Suzie died, remembered his constant teasing, his cruel jibes about her red hair. "When—when did you realise you weren't?"

He hesitated, sobering rapidly. "When I fell in love with Matt."

"What?"

Melissa realised the shock in her tone sounded comical when Jason's smile returned, albeit more rueful this time. "He never knew. At least, I don't think he ever knew. Then again, maybe he did figure it out—but he's never mentioned it."

He paused again, staring at the glass of water she twisted between her fingers. "I was fifteen when my parents sent me to boarding school. I think maybe they thought they'd get on better without me being around. Didn't work of course, but I can see why they did it. I wasn't the easiest of teenagers to deal with. I guess I was pretty screwed up. Knew I was different, just didn't know why. But that school..." He grimaced and Melissa sympathised. Matt had hated it there too. "It was tough to fit in. Took almost a term to make a friend."

"No prizes for guessing who that friend was?"

"None at all, no." They exchanged smiles. "But I made the mistake of reading a lot more into it than friendship. Realised pretty quickly too that I didn't stand a chance in hell, and not just because he was fairly obviously straight."

She took another sip of water, relieved when it slid down more easily this time. "Not just because?"

Jason gave her a searching look. "Lissy, come off it. He's always loved you. He loved you then. And when he came back after that summer, raving about you, how he'd finally told you, and you'd told him, and you'd had that bloody kiss in the tree-house—"

"He told you that?"

"Of course he bloody did. And I didn't take it too well, to be honest. In fact... Fuck." Once again, Jason hesitated, glancing towards the ceiling. "Look, Archie—the cheque. That's not the only reason I came to see you today."

Melissa had already suspected as much but said nothing, drawing in a slow breath while she waited for him to continue.

"I took them."

"Sorry?" She hadn't been expecting that. "Took what?"

He grimaced. "The letters."

"The letters?" And then she understood, her heart giving a sickening lurch.

"Matt doesn't know. I couldn't bring myself to tell him. He told me you'd found them in the loft, told me that you'd decided his mother had something to do with it. But she didn't." He swallowed, meeting her gaze at last. "Not until I sent them to her."

"No." She shook her head, confused. "The school sent them. They wrote a letter to Ruth..."

He gave a short, bitter laugh. "I typed that letter. Used the school letterhead and everything, thought I'd been really clever. Lissy, I'm so sorry."

For a moment, Melissa couldn't speak. Having given it much thought since she left the farm—God only knew there'd been plenty of time to think—she'd come to realise that the letters going missing shouldn't have caused a total communication breakdown. In all those years, she'd never had the sense to ask Matt whether he'd written, having merely assumed he hadn't. But then he'd never asked her either.

"The thing is, when you didn't write—" Jason winced again. "I mean, when I let him think you hadn't written—I told him you must've found someone else. Laid it on pretty thick, hoping he'd just give up. And of course, he did in the end. But it took him a while."

She already knew that. She'd read the letters now, could almost recall them word for word.

"I think if you'd seen him sooner, you might've had a chance. But you didn't see him until the next summer—and I was there then," he added apologetically.

Melissa had worked that out too. "Suzie was diagnosed with cancer," she said, hearing the wobble in her voice. "That's why we weren't invited to the farm at Christmas. She was having chemotherapy. They didn't want us to know."

"I'm so sorry." Jason's tone was low but sincere. "I can't tell you how sorry I am."

"Well, it doesn't matter now, does it?" she said wearily. "It's all water under the bridge."

"But it isn't." He gave her a look of astonishment. "Don't you get it? It's all my fault. You two were always supposed to be together."

"But we'renot together," she rejoined, matter of fact. "And surely if it was meant to be, we'd already be together. We'd have sorted all of this out a long time ago." She closed her eyes, releasing a shaky sigh. "No, this is the way it's meant to be. It's better this way."

"What?" Jason's disbelief was obvious. He'd thought his confession would make all the difference, she realised, rather touched to discover how much he cared. "You need to call him, okay? He's going crazy out there—he's not going to be able to get back here for months."

She shook her head. "It's too late."

"For heaven's sake." He uttered a low groan. "You're both as fucking stubborn as each other. I told him not to go, but would he listen? He said you'd have called if you didn't want him to go."

She'd almost called. She'd started to dial the number half a dozen times, only to chicken out at the last moment. "Hehad to go," she mumbled, using the excuse she'd given herself at the time. "It's his job."

When Jason sighed, she knew he was close to conceding defeat. "At least take the bloody cheque," he said, reaching for the envelope and holding it under her chin. "It's not the biggest sum of money in the world, just half of what Charlie had in the bank. You don't have to spend it. Put it away in another savings account, forget you've got it. Don't make me have to go back to Archie and tell him I failed. Please? You've no idea how upset that little guy got when you sent it back. They were close friends, you know. He promised Charlie he'd take care of the Will, take care of his family—and Charlie wanted you to have this."

Melissa swallowed, eyes cutting to the pharmacy bag on the coffee table. "All right," she said at last, taking the envelope. "But I don't want any more. That's it, okay?"

"Well, by the time there's any more, Matt'll back and he can do the arguing. Look..." Clearly relieved he'd achieved one of his goals, Jason stood up. "I think maybe I should go now. Let you get some rest." But then he hesitated, glancing at the bowl then back at Melissa. "Or maybe I shouldn't leave you like this. Will you be all right?"

"I'll be fine." She tried a smile. "I'm sure it's nothing. Just something I've eaten, I think."

He sent her another uncertain look before nodding slowly. "Okay." To her utter astonishment, he stooped to kiss the top of her head. "Stay put. I can see myself out. But please, think about what I said? Think about calling him?"

Still startled by his display of affection, she could only nod in reply.

As the door closed behind him, she stared down at the envelope in her hand, biting her lip hard. Though sending back the cheque had felt good, even at the time she'd known it was a rash thing to do. Too rash. Once again, she found herself looking at the white paper bag. It was time to face the truth, she decided at last, releasing a long, shaky breath.

Whatever that truth turned out to be...

And hauling herself to her feet, her aching body protesting all the way, she plucked up the bag and staggered to the bathroom.

*

Thank you for reading me. All votes and comments gratefully received!

Lily

-x-