The Summer We Loved. Wendy Jones Lou
back in the drawer, Jenny slumped back down onto her bed. One of her friends had remarked once that her love life was rather akin to the rhyme for King Henry VIII’s wives: ‘Forgot to get divorced, should have been beheaded, lied, forgot to get divorced, should have been beheaded’ and now she was determined to survive. No more married men conveniently forgetting to tell her about their other halves; no more players. No one. She was through casting her net and coming up with jelly fish: all softness and beauty on the surface, but with barbs that stung you underneath. What she needed now was all or nothing. Love. Deep, meaningful, overwhelming love that took hold of you by the guts and dared you to feel the pain. Love that sucked you in and devoured you whole, while releasing you to evolve into something bigger, something… wonderful. Until that happened, she was not going to fall again.
Jenny hugged Mr Rochester, her old, worn, and much-loved teddy bear, to her chest. For now he was going to have to be enough. And she turned out the light and settled down to sleep.
At ten o’clock the next morning, Flis appeared at the kitchen door for breakfast. She was also on a late.
“Lover boy not eating with us this morning, then?” Jenny asked.
Flis shook her head. “He’s got a meeting in London today, so he didn’t stop over.”
“Anything important?”
“I’m not sure. He was a bit cagey last night, but I’ve got a feeling it might be a promotion.”
Jenny looked up from her cereal. “Do you think he might have to move there?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Would you go with him if he did?”
“In a heartbeat,” Flis said, excitement lighting up her eyes. “Of course. And be a kept woman in the big city? Sounds pretty good to me.”
“Sounds hideous, I’d say. Wouldn’t you miss work?” Jenny asked, not at all convinced she could give up her independence so easily.
“No way. Why, would you?”
Jenny thought for a second. “Sadly, I think I would,” she said. “I think I’d miss feeling like I belonged, that I mattered. I’d miss the people.”
“Some more than others.”
Jenny raised an eyebrow and Flis shot her a meaningful look.
“Oh, come on. You’re not still harping on about Peter Florin, are you? That was years ago, Flis. You’ve got Robert now.”
“I know, but Connie from Goodwood Ward got fooled by him the other day; it just reminded me. She’s only been in the hospital a few weeks. Someone should definitely warn them. It should be part of the welcome pack: “Welcome to St Steven’s Hospital. We hope you enjoy working as part of our team, but please, ladies, don’t let the seductive charms of Dr Peter Florin fool you.”
Jenny chuckled. “Look, forget about him, Flis. Pete was never going to be a keeper, you knew that. He’s a womaniser. You need to get over it.”
“I am, really.” Flis gave Jenny her best ‘sincere’ look and then rested her cheek back down on her hand. “I had hoped for more than one desperate shag, though.”
“Yeah, well, join the club. I’m sure there are a hundred nurses who all feel exactly the same way as you. And not just here, all over the place.”
“You’ve never got caught by him, though, have you?” Flis said.
Jenny winced inwardly, sore at having been reminded of her virtually leprotic allure. Was she the only one left out in the cold? “Nope.” She tried her hardest to sound smug. “He’ll have to be quicker than that to catch hold of me. I’ve gone man-vegan.”
Flis looked at her.
“Yes, I decided I’m done with manipulative, self-centred men.” Flis looked at her, with eyebrows almost on the ceiling. “And, no, that doesn’t mean I’ve gone the other way. I’m just not going to waste any more of my life dating losers.” She picked up her bowl, washed it and placed it on the rack to drain. “I’m going for a run,” she said. “See you in a bit.”
Under the clear, blue sky, Jenny stepped out into the garden and started to jog. She felt the sun warming her shoulders. It was going to be a good day, she thought.
Closing the back gate, she made her way along the alley and out into the sun. Houses passed by as she headed off along her well-trodden route. She picked up the pace, winding through the streets, until she found herself out in the countryside, quiet and alone.
Jenny sucked in deep breaths, filling her lungs with the fragrant air of the soft summer breeze as she let her mind wander. Her feet beat a rhythm on the ground and she wondered about a holiday. She had thought about going on a writers’ retreat in her time off at the end of the summer. It was something she had wanted to try for a long time, but had never quite found the courage to take the next step. Maybe one day, she thought. Probably just a pipe dream, anyway. Perhaps she’d just have a couple of weeks in the sun.
The daydream called out its want for a partner and Jenny remembered the look in Pete’s eyes the first time he had said hello and spoken to her on the wards, almost six years before. She had thought he liked her back then, maybe he had, but ever since that day at Adam and Kate’s wedding, things had changed. She should think herself lucky that he’d avoided her, having seen how little others got from him. But deep down she wanted to believe there was more to him, and to be honest, her vanity was smarting.
Her fondness for Pete had begun at the start. But in the early days Flis had been so besotted with him that she hadn’t felt able to try. With the disaster at the wedding, everything changed. Pete would check on her often, but his eyes never looked at her the same after that. At home, with Flis now feeling bitter, they had barely been allowed to mention his name, and then he had gone, off to other hospitals to gain experience in his job. And Jenny had thought that was that. Men had come and gone, but nothing remained.
But with Pete’s return had come a rekindling of an old ember and a yearning to be loved… by him. Sadly, the words ‘loved’ and ‘Pete’ seemed such a laughable contradiction that she was resigned to the fact that it was a lost cause and she would just have to wait it out until he was gone once more, which, if rumour was true, would only be a matter of months now.
As field merged with hedgerow, fence post with stream, she drifted into a world of fantasy, allowing herself to imagine scenarios still unexplored. A first date, a first kiss, an evening spent hand in hand, arm in arm, touching, holding, feeling… She tripped and stumbled on a root sticking out of the ground and looked up. Where was she? Realising she must have lost her way, Jenny headed back the way she had come and rectified her route, finally continuing on her trail, relieved to have been alone and unobserved.
With her new resolution echoing in her mind, she decided to clarify her plan with the hope of easing her pain. “He. Doesn’t. Want. Me. He. Doesn’t. Want. Me,” her thoughts sang back as her feet fell hard on the ground. And when the reality of that had finally hit home, she changed tack with a new voice. “I. Don’t. Need. Him. I. Don’t. Need. Him.” It was something she had to learn, however hard the bite, for it was in her power to determine the rest of her life and she was not willing to be a doormat for anyone.
Staggering back home from a pace a bit more ambitious than usual, Jenny hit the shower and got ready for work. It was a double-edged sword, working on a surgical ward and being smitten with an emotionally stunted anaesthetist. The upside was that she got to see him far more than if she had worked on any other ward, but the downside was the same. Agony and ecstasy in equal measure.
Jenny stood at the nurses’ station, listening to handover. All around her, work carried on as usual: trollies wheeled about, rattling cups and saucers, instruments and trays, and patients pressed their buzzers. Incessant demand. And then Dr Peter Florin breezed past and the world about her stopped. Jenny’s heart trembled and she forced herself to focus back on the job in hand, but not before noticing the heaviness of his