Into The Rough by Maggie McIntyre

Author:Maggie McIntyre [McIntyre, Maggie]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Published: 2021-02-09T00:00:00+00:00

Downstairs, Jane soon tired of watching the cricket, which was proceeding at a snail’s pace, and then just as it was picking up pace, the umpire declared a break for tea and refreshments. Even in Sri Lanka, it seemed the old British traditions of cricket teas were sacrosanct. She turned off the TV and then gave herself a better treat, looking again at the photos of Jenni on her phone. Nice. Perfectly lovely.

She was filled with a simple desire to look after this woman, to give her love and care, and everything she needed, to be the sweet, rather magical person she was. Jane had never met anyone quite like her. She knew her head was being turned, but just couldn’t resist much longer. Her first idea of booting Jenni out of the door as quickly as possible seemed to have disappeared. Now she wanted to capture her and hold her close for ever.

Then she thought she could hear something, a distant mewing sort of sound. She wondered if a neighbour’s cat was crying at the window outside. But as her ears adjusted, she realised with horror, that the sound was coming from upstairs, and it was of a woman crying. It was Jenni!

Without any hesitation whatsoever, Jane hurled herself up the stairs and threw open her bedroom door. Of course she should have respected her guest’s privacy and not invaded her space. But Jane didn’t act like that when she was in full impulse. She didn’t have the nickname Buzz Lightyear among her colleagues at school for nothing.

“Jenni! Darling! What’s the matter?”

(Well, if Isabel could call Jenni ‘Darling’, why couldn’t she?)

She ran across to the bed, and tugged Jenni up into her arms, rocking her like a baby, and tried to console her.

“Sshh, Sshh. What’s the matter? What’s upset you?”

Jenni just sobbed into Jane’s shoulder even harder.

Jane remembered how she herself had cried at Isabel’s wedding, how the tears had simply poured out of her against her will. This bout of uncontrollable weeping from Jenni, though, seemed even more passionate and heartfelt. Jenni clung to her, as if she were a sturdy tree in a howling hurricane, and seemingly could do nothing but sob into her shirt.

Jane just held her, and rocked her, back and forth, until eventually Jenni was all cried out. She shuddered against Jane’s firm, fit torso, and let Jane rub her back and the tense muscles in her neck and shoulders.

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry,” she whispered.

“Hey! Remember what I told you about all that apologising? Never, ever say you’re sorry to me again. You don’t need to, and I don’t want to hear it, OK?”

She hugged Jenni fiercely. It seemed the most comforting thing she could do, and thankfully Jenni wasn’t complaining. They stayed like that for several minutes.

When she thought it safe, with one hand, Jane pulled out some tissues from the box on the bedside table and passed them over. Jenni took them, and wiped her eyes.

“I guess that was something you needed to do,” Jane said, trying not to pry.

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