Page 25 of Escape to the Country

Chapter 9

Tom drank his coffee on the sunny back patio whilst sitting on a rusty bench, looking across the grounds at the back of Willow Tree Hall.

He had woken up in his guest bedroom and been astonished to find it was late afternoon. The painkillers he was on had completely messed up his head and body clock. But his foot was still too painful not to be able to function without them.

So, despite feeling drowsy most of the previous day, he had then found himself wide awake until almost dawn, watching rubbish on his iPad.

It was also a bit strange sleeping in such a large place. In a way, it reminded him of growing up in the children’s homes. Aware of people sleeping all around him in different rooms. And of him being different, as usual. Standing out. A loner.

Except this was a family. Which was also new to him. And that they were kind and affectionate towards each other. And to him too.

But during dinner last night, he had found the questions and chatter almost too much to bear. And the food too.

‘How’s the mash?’ Annie had asked. ‘No lumps, are there?’

‘It’s great,’ Tom had replied. ‘I haven’t had a home-cooked meal like this since…’ Then his voice had trailed off as the only lump had then been in his throat as he remembered being at his gran’s house.

The silence had stretched out across the table. He had glanced up briefly to see Arthur looking at him. Then the Earl had suddenly said, ‘Do you know, I think we have cygnets down by the river?’

‘Do we really?’ Rose had replied. ‘How sweet. I must go and see.’

‘Not in your high heels,’ Arthur had told her, with a soft smile.

‘I do have wellington boots, you know,’ she had countered. ‘They just happen to be leopard-skin-patterned.’

The conversation had swiftly moved on and Tom had felt himself relax once more. He knew that Arthur had spoken to take away his embarrassment and he was grateful. They were generous with their hearts and spirit towards him.

It was all a stark contrast to his own family experiences.

It was hard growing up knowing that your own parents didn’t want you. But he had learnt the lesson so well that the walls he put up around himself kept out everyone else. Including people wanting to foster or adopt him. He rebelled hard against any kind offers, thinking that strangers would only let him down even more so than his own kin. His gran had suffered ill health ever since her husband had died and wasn’t able to bring up him by herself much to her dismay. So he battled and raged against everyone else until he was old enough to fend for himself.

And that’s how he’d lived his life ever since, which made this new living arrangement even more strange.

Tom was only intending to stay at Willow Tree Hall a few more days, but in the meantime, it was a welcome refuge. The press was still going crazy trying to get hold of him. Even suggesting that he was probably drying out at rehab. He just needed to hide out in the countryside and wait for the hubbub to calm down.

Sam had placed him in the only guest bedroom that had been completed. It was Annie’s old room and had thick carpets, a comfortable bed and a sweet fireplace.

‘Six months ago, you would have been sleeping in a hurricane of a draught,’ Sam had told him. ‘The house really was in a shocking state. It’s taken us this long to drag it into being weatherproof.’

‘Trust me, I’ve slept in a lot worse,’ Tom had said, thinking of the occasional nights’ sleep on the streets when he was young and life became too much.

‘I know,’ replied Sam, softly.

He was the only one that knew. The only one that perhaps understood. But Sam’s parents hadn’t abandoned him. They had died. But the hole left by a lack of parents in both of their lives had ramifications that had rippled out beyond that time and into the present.

Tom blinked away the memories and took refuge in the view of the grounds. Huge wild rhododendron bushes grew at the far boundary, smothered in pale lilac and bright pink blooms. The whole ground was green and fresh with the new growth of summer A little too much growth, he added to himself, looking at the overgrown hedges and bushes. Nature was running rampant as far as the eye could see. But the birdsong and buzz of insects was a welcome change to the hum of heavy traffic. He glanced back to the huge stately home. So, here he was. On a large country estate belonging to an ancient ancestral family. If only those that had known him when he was younger could see him now.

‘You’re nothing.’ He could hear the taunts now in the playground. ‘Nobody wanted you, did they? Your dad walked out. Not even your mum liked you.’

The smug mocking face had soon become bloodied when it came into contact with Tom’s fist. He had learnt from a young age that it was fight or flight. And he had never been one to run away.

What had happened to the spoilt, rich boy who had picked on him all those years ago? Tom didn’t care. Because Tom was now the one with money. The one with the fame and fortune.

So why did he feel so unhappy? Why did he feel like he had the whole world and yet felt empty?

‘I suppose you smashed your own face against a wall, did you?’ He could see his gran’s concern as she looked at yet another black eye. She had known. Of course she had. ‘Or did you fall off your bike again?’

‘Got any cherry cake?’ he would say, ignoring her question.