Bella fought a spasm of irritation. She was just opening her mouth to retort sharply when Jake spoke again.
“I’m sorry, hon. It’s just – oh shit – I really hate all this family crap, all this dysfunctional caring, sharing shit. It’s such a stupid, sordid story anyway, it’s embarrassing to talk about.”
“That’s okay,” said Bella meaninglessly, agog to hear more.
Jake sighed again.
“It’s not particularly illuminating. You know my mum died, quite young?”
“No, I didn’t. I’m sorry – “
“Well, anyway. She had cancer, Hodgkin’s lymphoma. It kills you really quickly, I’m not kidding, one minute you’re diagnosed and the next you’re in a coffin, seriously. She died and –“
“How old were you?” Bella couldn’t stop herself interrupting.
“Ten. I was ten, Carl was twelve.”
“How awful,” murmured Bella inadequately. She could picture them; two little solemn-mouthed, black haired boys, clutching a photograph of their dead mother. She felt tears prick the inside of her eyes.
“It was pretty awful,” said Jake, remotely. There was a short silence. “Anyway, about six months after Mum died, my father married again, this blonde bird that used to be a friend of Mum’s. Well, I think she was a friend of Mum’s. Probably not, that was just some plan concocted by her and Dad to pull the wool over our eyes. Angela. She’s a cunt.”
Bella pulled in a silent, shocked breath.
“She really is. Actually though, you know, she might be a cunt but Dad’s the worst. Angela’s out for what she can get but hey, so are a lot of people. It’s my father who’s fucked every memory of my mother up for Carl and me, it’s him who’s… fucking debased every family memory we had. That fucker.”
He was trembling. Bella looked at him, aghast.
“The fucker didn’t even tell us he was moving her in. We just came home from school one day and there she was, sleeping in Mum’s room, wandering around all the rooms like she owned them – fuck – “
He pulled his arm out from under her and laid it over his eyes. Below it, his mouth went square. In an agony of pity, Bella went to touch him, and then drew back her hands, unsure of what to do.
There was a horribly long moment where the sound of Jake crying was audible over the whisper of the long grass and the hum of the myriad flying insects. Bella hesitated for a moment longer. Then she took him into her arms, covering his mouth with her own. She was wrenched with pity for him, poor Jake, poor poor Jake – she rocked him in her arms, whispering to him, soothing him with her hands. He clutched at her, wet-faced. His kisses grew more urgent and he pushed her back onto the grass, fumbling at her skirt. Bella froze for a second, conscious of how exposed they were, despite the walls of high grass that surrounded them. But she wanted to heal him, she wanted to help him. She let him pull off her knickers and push himself inside her, only wincing a little as she wasn’t quite ready. She kept her arms about him as he rocked himself into her, his tears falling on her upturned face.
*
"Can we head back?"
"Now?"
"Well... soon...."
“Why's that? Getting nervous we've been spotted?"
Bella grinned. "No. I need the loo."
"So go here." Jake gestured towards the rest of the Heath.
Bella squirmed. "No way. People will see me."
"So?"
"So, I don't want them to."
"Prude." Jake pulled her towards him and kissed her. "Go on, I won't look."
"No, seriously. Can we go?"
Jake sighed. "Are you really that desperate?"
Bella looked at him curiously. She heard something in his voice she was beginning to recognise, a more sombre tone that underlay his light, bantering remarks.
"What's the matter?"
Jake was lying with one arm over his eyes. He lifted it to look at her.
"What do you mean?"
"Well - " Bella hesitated. It had been such a strange sort of afternoon; the early storm of his familial revelations, the hurried sex, the fragile calm that came afterwards. She didn't want to rock the boat but equally, she really did need the loo...
"Are you sure you're okay?"
"About what?" It could have been imagination but he sounded wary. Bella wavered and decided not to push it.
"Doesn't matter, ignore me. Can we go though? I really do need the loo, and I'm getting sunburnt..."
"Oh, alright..."
Jake heaved himself to his feet and spent some moments brushing himself down. Bella shifted from foot to foot, trying not to show her impatience. Jake picked slowly at the last remaining fragments of grass adhering to his legs.
"Come on," said Bella, giving in to her impatience.
"Alright."
He sounded annoyed. She bit down on the sharp retort she wanted to make. She was beginning to realise the danger points in their conversation, the tipping points, where a disagreement could flare into a proper argument. Bella tried to think of the strain he was obviously under, after his visit to his father. Be patient, she told herself. At the same time she was aware of her own slow rising anger, at always being the one to give in, at always being the one to try and smooth things over. She pressed her fingertips into her thigh as she stood there, hard enough to hurt.
Just as she thought she would scream if Jake took a moment longer, he suddenly held out a hand to her. The expression on his face melted her anger in a second - he looked like a lost little boy. She squeezed his hand and was just about to ask him what was wrong when he said 'let's not go home yet.'
“Oh, Jake - "
She began to reiterate her need for a public convenience when he interrupted her.
"Let's not go home just yet. I'm sick of the place. Let's go out for a drink and find you a toilet - and then, how about a meal? My treat. Let's just not go home. Come on, Bell. Please?"
They managed to find a table at the Black Horse and Jake disappeared towards the bar. Bella was left to consider her boyfriend's odd behaviour. I'm sick of the place. Sick of Fever Street? Why? Bella swallowed down a sigh. Jake was so... so frustrating sometimes. She felt out of her depth with him most of the time. She wished she had someone to speak to about him, whether she was just overreacting or whether he really was impossible to understand. Maybe Veronica...? She felt a certain reluctance at the thought and wondered why.
"Here you go."
Jake put her drink down in front of her and waved a menu. Bella took it from him, just for something to do. They both studied the laminated pages in silence.
"Jake - "
Bella had waited until their food arrived before she spoke of what was bothering her. Jake paused with a mouthful of steak and kidney pie halfway to his mouth.
"What?"
Bella hesitated. Then she took a deep breath.
"What's wrong with Fever Street?"
"What?"
"You said you were sick of it. Why? What's wrong with it?"
Jake pushed the forkful of food into his mouth. He chewed it for a long moment. Bella took a nervous sip of wine.
Eventually Jake finished his mouthful.
"You read too much into things," he said. "I didn't mean anything by it."
"That's not what it looked like to me."
Jake looked at her across the table.
"You can think what you like, then," he said coolly. "You seem to know all about it anyway."
Bella clenched her teeth in frustration.
“That's not what I - "
"Why are you so fucking interested in my life anyway? Christ sake, Bella. Why don’t you just leave me the fuck alone?"
Bella looked at him across the table, flabbergasted. Then she picked up her bag, pushed back her chair and walked out of the pub.
Darkness had long since fallen and with it, the heat of the day had dissipated. A cold wind was rattling the rubbish left on the pavements but Bella walked home lit internally by a fiery, scorching anger. What was the matter with him? Seriously, what was the matter with him?