Dressed, cleaned, now send him back
Jenny, youre honestly a saint. I mean it
Oh, am I? Funny, because youre not marrying this supposed saint, are you? No, youre marrying Amythe one who betrayed you and stomped your poor old heart. Care to elaborate? Jennys voice cracked just enough to betray that irritation was sitting on a pile of disappointment.
Davids gulp was loud enough to belong in an advert for tea. His eyes darted everywhere but Jennys face, as if the pattern on her mums tablecloth had suddenly become fascinating.
Its complicated, Jen. Youre likemy sister. Or my very best mate, honestly. But Amywell, its a mess, isnt it? Thought I hated her, swore Id never forgive her, but I justcant get her out of my head. Sorry
Jenny sat perfectly upright, the epitome of British composure, but under the table her hands fidgeted with the napkin, fingers freezing in a storm of nerves.
Fascinating, she muttered. So when you said you couldnt imagine your future without me, that was strictly mate-zone? When you whispered you loved me, was that brotherly affection then?
Jen, you know that was different! You know what state I was in. It was only you back then, everyone else had vanished. And youre strong, you know? Brilliant, even. But Amyshes different. Shes fragile. I let her down and she justran off.
Jennys eyebrows soared. It was a revelation to discover that patience and kindness, it turned out, were red cards on the relationship field. While shed kept a steady ship, the grand title of beloved went straight to the one who legged it at the first sign of bad weather.
Still, life plodded on, as British life is wont to do, dragging Jenny along with it, heartbreak and all.
Right. Got it. Well, gather your things and off you pop. Not much I can do, is there? She stood and briskly left for the hallway.
Jenny, wait! David sprang up. Youre not angry, are you?
She felt like the very next word might set her off into either tears or an EastEnders-level yelling matchor perhaps both.
Not angry. Justdone. I got you back on your feet, you took off. Thats the story, isnt it?
A flick of the wrist, and Jenny disappeared into the sitting room, shutting herself away. No point in arguing; after all, there was no one to blame but herself. Shed waded into this emotional bog willingly, Wellington boots and all.
It had all started, as these things do, quite by accident. Jenny had popped round to her mums little semi in Chesham, only to find the formidable Mrs. Greenmums oldest friend since theyd both dodged gym class together. Mrs. Green perked up instantly at the sight of Jenny.
Ooh, Jenny love, youre all grown up! Last time I saw you, you could barely peep over the table. Such a looker now Mrs. Green beamed. Hows life, any grandbabies in the works yet for your poor mother?
Jenny was used to this line of questioning; it was practically a hobby among her mums friends. Shed learned over the years to view it less as nosiness and more as eccentric British small talk.
No rush, Mrs. Green. Im quite happy as is.
Really? No one in your sights, then?
Not right nowa bit busy not to mention selective
She sighed, You know, youd be wonderful for my David! Hes in a right state. His wife cheated, left him for some chap with a flashier car the minute the landscaping company sank. Now hes drowning his sorrows in whisky, bless him. Im at my wits end. Hes such a sweet lad, but these younger women todaythe minute life goes pear-shaped, they leg it. Hell waste away at this rate
Jenny was no stranger to attempted matchmaking, but this story somehow struck a chord. Maybe because she, too, had recently weathered betrayala boyfriend turned out to be cheating, and Jenny was still patching herself up.
She pondered all night, and, come morning, asked her mum for Mrs. Greens number.
Jenny, sweetheart, dont be daft. You dont need to get involved in this. You ought to focus on yourself right now, Mum chided.
But Jenny was nothing if not stubborn.
I just think we need to help people sometimes, Mum. Not everyone has someone like you. Remember when you cried with me over those photos I found on Matts phone? Some people arent that lucky. And its not that hard for me to pitch init could mean the world to someone else.
Mum argued as only mothers can, but in the end, she gave Jenny the number. She knew resistance was futile; otherwise, Jenny would have done some light internet stalking and gotten it anyway.
Two days later, Jenny arrived on Davids doorstep, bursting with shopping bagsfruits, a bit of chicken, veg, nothing boozy. David opened up straight away, surrounded by the twin scents of aftershave and despair.
Rescue service for lonely hearts, is it? he quipped, lopsided smile in place. Jenny, right?
Thats me. Your mum gave me a heads up. Ive been there too, you knowrecently, actually.
Within half an hour, Jenny was whipping up shepherds pie, swapping stories, listening to Davids tales. Before long, she was dusting, clearing rubbish, scrubbing floors. David looked sceptical at first, then rolled up his sleeves and joined in.
From then on, Jennys life looked entirely different. After work, shed pop over to Davids, tidy up, cook a bit. In the evenings, theyd binge-watch telly, play chess or cards to distract him. Jenny gently dragged David to a counsellor, helped him refresh his wardrobe, and more or less took the project of fixing David quite seriously.
David didnt object. In fact, he seemed to rather enjoy being looked after.
Of course, one evening he slipped upwent on a bender with his mates. Jenny, upset, stopped visiting, hoping hed realise what he was missing.
It worked, or so she thought
Jennydont be cross. I was just feeling lonely, and they dropped by. You know how it is, cant just turn them away David rang after three days of silence.
So why didnt you call me, then? You could have come over.
Didnt want to impose. Wasnt sure if youd want that.
Of course you can, you numpty!
David visited. First once, then again, and pretty soon, they were unofficially living together. Jenny didnt object; by then, it felt like a functional little family. Both simply craving warmth and a bit of company.
Soon enough, Jenny pulled some strings and got David a job at her friends glazing firm. Not the glamour of the City, but honest work. David grabbed the opportunity with both hands andwhen his first paycheque came inbought Jenny perfume.
Thats for you. Just wanted you to knowI appreciate it. Its all down to you, he said, planting a kiss on her cheek. Youre my guardian angel. Dont know what Id do without you
For a while, Jenny wondered if he meant itif he was truly in love. Maybe he simply felt grateful. But the way he gazed at her, with such devotion, Jenny dared to hope her kindness might actually rewrite a mans destiny. She believed him. She believed in the Jenny, I love you whispered late at night.
She shouldnt have.
Because in the end, the saga played out as these things often doDavid left, and Jenny packed up what was left of her heart and trekked off to see her mum, in dire need of a cuppa and a shoulder.
Oh darling, you poor thing I did try to warn you Mum sighed, hugging Jenny.
Within an hour, Jennys spirits perked up enough to smileand so did her mum.
Dont worry, love. Theres plenty more hopeless blokes out there for the picking. Most of them sitting about, waiting to be rescued. Honestly, its like an epidemic. Therell always be more to dress, feed, and polish.
No, thank you! Jenny laughed. No more rescuing frogs for me unless they actually, well, become pets. If I feel like saving someone, might as well donate to the local animal shelterthey didnt choose their lot.
So, thats what she did.
Six months on, Jenny was significantly less inclined to leap into relationships as a one-woman lifeboat. She reserved her generosity for her nearest and dearest. Mind you, a certain someone had wriggled her way into Jennys affectionsa certain gingery little madam named Pippa, whom Jennyd adopted from Battersea Cats & Dogs Home a month before. Pippa demanded nothing more than walks, biscuits, and belly rubs; in return, she gave pure, doggy devotion.
Then, one rainy Tuesday, Jennys phone vibrated. David. She hesitated, then picked upcuriosity always did get the better of her.
Hey, JenEr, dyou fancy a chat? You always said I could ring, no matter what
Here we go again, Jenny thought.
No, David. Sorry. Saving yourselfwell, thats a job for you, not me. Good luck with it.
Once, Jenny would have chatted, at least to be polite. Not anymore. The past was a suitcase best left in the attic, and besides, present-day Pippa was whining by the door, leash ready in her mouth.
Later, Jenny heard from her mum that David had hit the bottle againno pressing reason this time. Lost his job, Amy filed for divorce all over again, and now he was lodged firmly on Mrs. Greens sofa.
Poor Mrs. Green, was all Jenny could muster.
That night, she promptly blocked his number, determined not to backslide into Saviour Jenny mode. Six months later, she was dating a colleagueone with a manageable amount of emotional baggage, thank goodness. Jenny finally realised you can help someone, but you dont have to be their life raft and their therapist and their mum. Sometimes you just need to keep your own shoes dry and your heart for someone wholl stay when the weather turns.
And in a small house in Chesham, one ginger dog would happily agree.
