Mick’s voice was gentle, full of sympathy. No, not sympathy but pity. Pity? She didn’t want that. Pity was what you felt for abandoned animals or homeless people, not for wives who couldn’t get over losing you. How dare he pity her, the tramp-shagging bastard.
‘Yes, you do that,’ Gaynor said, straightening her back, reclaiming some dignity. If he hadn’t looked at her as if she’d been an injured greyhound that needed putting out of its misery she might have thrown in the towel. Now she’d fight on until the fat lady sang so loudly she damaged her vocal cords. He’d be the one that people pitied, walking about with dyed spiky hair and jeans worn hanging halfway down his arse.
She could have coped better if he had died, horrible as it was to admit to herself. Being Mick Pollock’s widow would have allowed her to keep some respectability, whereas being Mick Pollock’s ex-wife because he’d run off with a Bellfield scrubber did not.
Mick made no attempt to stop her getting into her car, fumbling with the ignition key, nearly crashing into the car behind because she slipped into reverse rather than first. She did not look into the rear-view mirror and see his expression as she drove away. In her imagination, it would have been one of forlornness that he had made the biggest mistake of his life, and the sight of her there outside the surgery had forced the scales to finally fall from his eyes.
Maybe she would have turned back and drunk in the sight of him looking at her with concern, had she known it was the last time she would see Mick Pollock alive.
Chapter 16
Geraldine threw her arms around Wonk and kissed the sweet grey fur on her head.
‘Oh, it’s so good to have you home.’ Then her face fell. ‘What will happen to her if we close? Where will she go?’
‘Any sanctuary will have Wonk, she’s rich,’ said Heath, unable to keep the bitterness from his voice.
Geraldine geed herself up. ‘What am I saying? Wonk won’t be going anywhere. We have to stay positive.’
‘Have you found homes for the animals yet?’ asked Viv, thinking Heath was insensitive at best.
‘Nope,’ he replied. ‘We were always waiting for the miracle which was going to fall on us from above. The ancient powers that be would never let this place become a housing estate, everyone kept telling me. We should all dig in our heels and everything would be okay.’ His mouth bore a smile, but his words were humourless.
‘Something will come up, I know it,’ said Geraldine. ‘It has to.’
Heath raked his fingers through the tangle of his hair, a gesture of concealed impatience, Viv thought.
‘Gerry, we are not living in a Disney film. We have to face facts that it’s starting to look unlikely and we should make plans accordingly.’
Geraldine turned and walked rapidly back to the cottage. She was upset, that was evident. Viv stood there awkwardly not knowing if she should follow. Heath was staring beyond Wonk up at the castle.
‘I know it might sound a daft question but have you asked them to come to some sort of arrangement?’ said Viv, cutting into his reverie.
‘What?’ Heath quickly turned his head towards her.
‘Have you sat down at a table with the Leightons, I mean, and . . .’
‘I know what you mean. Taken tea and cakes and asked them to rent the land back to me? No, funnily enough I haven’t. Maybe you think I should apply for a mortgage and buy it myself. Have you any idea how much this wonderful stretch of prime building land is worth?’
Viv took a stab at a guess. ‘A million?’
Heath gave a dry laugh. ‘In your dreams. So no, of course I haven’t sat down with them with a cup of tea and a packet of custard creams.’
‘Well, isn’t it worth a try, then?’
Heath’s eyes rounded and his mouth contracted to a grim line. ‘You’ve known me exactly how many minutes, Miss . . . Blackwell and—’
‘Blackbird,’ said Viv. ‘Like your name, only in English.’
‘Blackbird
‘Yes, you do that,’ Gaynor said, straightening her back, reclaiming some dignity. If he hadn’t looked at her as if she’d been an injured greyhound that needed putting out of its misery she might have thrown in the towel. Now she’d fight on until the fat lady sang so loudly she damaged her vocal cords. He’d be the one that people pitied, walking about with dyed spiky hair and jeans worn hanging halfway down his arse.
She could have coped better if he had died, horrible as it was to admit to herself. Being Mick Pollock’s widow would have allowed her to keep some respectability, whereas being Mick Pollock’s ex-wife because he’d run off with a Bellfield scrubber did not.
Mick made no attempt to stop her getting into her car, fumbling with the ignition key, nearly crashing into the car behind because she slipped into reverse rather than first. She did not look into the rear-view mirror and see his expression as she drove away. In her imagination, it would have been one of forlornness that he had made the biggest mistake of his life, and the sight of her there outside the surgery had forced the scales to finally fall from his eyes.
Maybe she would have turned back and drunk in the sight of him looking at her with concern, had she known it was the last time she would see Mick Pollock alive.
Chapter 16
Geraldine threw her arms around Wonk and kissed the sweet grey fur on her head.
‘Oh, it’s so good to have you home.’ Then her face fell. ‘What will happen to her if we close? Where will she go?’
‘Any sanctuary will have Wonk, she’s rich,’ said Heath, unable to keep the bitterness from his voice.
Geraldine geed herself up. ‘What am I saying? Wonk won’t be going anywhere. We have to stay positive.’
‘Have you found homes for the animals yet?’ asked Viv, thinking Heath was insensitive at best.
‘Nope,’ he replied. ‘We were always waiting for the miracle which was going to fall on us from above. The ancient powers that be would never let this place become a housing estate, everyone kept telling me. We should all dig in our heels and everything would be okay.’ His mouth bore a smile, but his words were humourless.
‘Something will come up, I know it,’ said Geraldine. ‘It has to.’
Heath raked his fingers through the tangle of his hair, a gesture of concealed impatience, Viv thought.
‘Gerry, we are not living in a Disney film. We have to face facts that it’s starting to look unlikely and we should make plans accordingly.’
Geraldine turned and walked rapidly back to the cottage. She was upset, that was evident. Viv stood there awkwardly not knowing if she should follow. Heath was staring beyond Wonk up at the castle.
‘I know it might sound a daft question but have you asked them to come to some sort of arrangement?’ said Viv, cutting into his reverie.
‘What?’ Heath quickly turned his head towards her.
‘Have you sat down at a table with the Leightons, I mean, and . . .’
‘I know what you mean. Taken tea and cakes and asked them to rent the land back to me? No, funnily enough I haven’t. Maybe you think I should apply for a mortgage and buy it myself. Have you any idea how much this wonderful stretch of prime building land is worth?’
Viv took a stab at a guess. ‘A million?’
Heath gave a dry laugh. ‘In your dreams. So no, of course I haven’t sat down with them with a cup of tea and a packet of custard creams.’
‘Well, isn’t it worth a try, then?’
Heath’s eyes rounded and his mouth contracted to a grim line. ‘You’ve known me exactly how many minutes, Miss . . . Blackwell and—’
‘Blackbird,’ said Viv. ‘Like your name, only in English.’
‘Blackbird
Similar Books
