by Sofia Grey
The afternoon drifted into evening. They ate bacon & egg toasted sandwiches, snacked on Adele’s chocolate-biscuit cake-thing, and smoked some very good weed Nick had been saving in his wallet. After a couple of spliffs, they were both chilled out, listening to Massive Attack, and reminiscing about their student days.
For the moment, Lara and her pregnancy were pushed to the back of Nick’s mind.
After ringing for a Chinese takeout and getting very silly with a pair of chopsticks, Adele produced a bottle of vodka, and they settled down to a lazy night of boozing and smoking. She made no suggestions about Nick going home. It was worth wearing pink-tiara’d kittens, for the sense of peace he had.
****
Sylvie spent another few blissful days away with Alex, and they toured the Welsh coast, exploring the tiny villages and tourist attractions. The nights were turning cooler, and they dropped into B&B’s, eating in local pubs and behaving like the honeymooners they were. On Saturday night it clouded over, by Sunday it was grey and overcast, and with a sense of regret they headed home as a storm front swept in from the Atlantic. They were back in Rhosneigr after lunch and managed to unload the car before the rain started in earnest.
Alex was itching to get back to the studio, so Sylvie settled down to the more mundane tasks of sorting out the laundry and writing a shopping list to restock the almost empty fridge and larder. As an afterthought, she checked her phone. Shit. There was an anxious message from Lara.
So much for their peace and quiet. She needed to talk to Alex.
Sylvie trailed down to the studio, armed with a pot of fresh coffee and a packet of Jaffa Cakes, and lurked in the doorway until Alex noticed her.
“Hey,” he said. “Come listen to this. I’ve been tweaking the lead break on Sun and Moon. If you use the chorus pedal, it sounds awesome.”
This was his newest song, about Sylvie, and he’d been playing around with it for months, unable to get it right. Being a total perfectionist, he refused to let it go public until he was happy with it. Now he experimented with a bank of effects pedals, to refine the sound. Sylvie settled down to listen. He was right; it changed the tone completely and made it haunting, soothing, and ethereal.
Alex sang along to the delicate chords.
You light up every room
You are my sun, you are my moon
When you smile, my world spins faster
My heart beats to your tune
You are my sun, you are my moon
Tears pricked at her eyes when he crooned the words. It was beautiful. When he finished, she slipped her arms around his neck and kissed him, enjoying the scratchy feel of his beard against her chin.
“You like it, huh?”
She could tell he was pleased, and she smiled back. “Yes. Very much.” She hated to break the moment, but she had to. “Alex, can I ask you something?”
“You know you can ask me anything.”
“This is a big something. I’d like to invite Lara to stay. Would you mind? I feel bad about suggesting it—it’s our private time—but she needs some space from Nick for a little while. It would only be a few days.”
Alex gazed back at her, then put his guitar down and gathered her in his arms. “I seem to remember another young woman arriving on my doorstep for a few days, and you’re still here.” A teasing smile hovered on his lips. “You know I don’t mind. And that’s one of the things I love about you—you care about everyone.” He nudged her lips for another kiss. “So when does she arrive?”
“How about tomorrow?”
“I can live with that. We’ve plenty of room.”
“She can help get the party organised. She’s a programme planner.”
He wrinkled his brow. “What’s that?”
Sylvie rolled her eyes. “I keep forgetting you know nothing about corporate stuff. She works where I used to, in the Programme Office. You see, a big company has a programme of work, different activities, and the planner makes sure they’re all on track. Basically chasing a whole bunch of people for updates, and keeping on top of a million things at once. Lara is good with detail.”
“Mmm. So am I.” He deftly unbuttoned her shirt and slid his hand around, to unfasten her bra. He looked at her with bright eyes. “I’m good at planning, too.”
“Yeah? What are you planning right now?”
He gave her his cocky, sexy smile—the one he used on stage. “Come with me, babe, and you’ll find out.”
He led Sylvie into the lounge and laid her gently on the sofa, to undress her slowly and with infinite care. “If this is the last day we have the house to ourselves,” he whispered, “I want to take advantage of it.”
Chapter Ten
Lara caught the train to Holyhead station, then gathered her bags as the train slowed on the approach. Although she spoke with Sylvie and texted most weeks, she hadn’t seen her for months. The last time was back in June, well before the U.S. tour started. She still found it hard to believe that her closest friend was playing in one of the world’s top rock bands and was married to Rock God AJ.
As promised, Sylvie waited on the platform. Her long dark hair was tied back in a rough ponytail, and she wore no makeup. In jeans and a zipped fleece top, she looked every inch the Sylvie Lara’d known for so long.
They hugged, and Sylvie insisted on carrying Lara’s suitcase to her car.
“Is Alex with you?” Lara was nervous at the prospect of meeting him again.
“No. He stayed at home. We only got back yesterday, and he’s ploughing through a ton of emails and updating his blog. He promised Frankie, our manager, that he’d do his admin on a regular basis, but he’s hopeless at it. He finds a million excuses to put it off.”
Lara saw the amusement on her friend’s face. She looked good, confident, happy, and glowing with health. Married life suited her. They arrived at a black Audi SUV, which Sylvie unlocked. The back was full of Tesco carrier bags.
“We had no food,” said Sylvie, “so I did the shopping on the way here.”
Lara stared, bemused at the huge pile of bags. “You got enough there?”
Sylvie laughed. “I hope so. Charlie and Mick are due this weekend, to rehearse for the next leg of the tour. Once they arrive, we’ll be busy in the studio, so I’m stocking up the freezer now.”
Lara tried to remember what she knew about the tour. “I didn’t think you performed again until after Christmas?”
“That’s right. But we’ve a load of new tracks from the album we need to work on. And Alex has a couple of new songs too.” She smiled and touched Lara’s hand. “Don’t worry. We’ve got a few days to catch up. So tell me, what’s happening with you and Nick? Are you okay? Really?”
Lara’s eyes filled with tears at Sylvie’s sympathy, but she brushed them away. She refused to cry any more. Instead, she talked about going home to Mum’s for a few days and how her fussing was too much to cope with. How Lara was avoiding Nick and hadn’t replied to his texts or emails.
“Did you tell your mum about the baby?”
“No.”
Sylvie looked surprised. “You’re not thinking about getting rid of it, are you?”
“Hell no. I’m hoping Nick comes around to the idea. And if he does, I don’t want my parents to hate him because he wanted to abort their first grandchild. And if I told them I was pregnant, they’d be upset that Nick isn’t with me. They adore him. So it was easier to say that I was having a break by myself.” She gazed out the window at the passing countryside. “I told them he was in Europe for the week.”
“Oh.” Sylvie managed to convey a lot of sympathy with one small word.
Lara watched as sheep, fields, and grey-stone buildings flew by. It was starting to rain, great fat drops splashing against the windscreen, and she shivered. “Is it far? To your house?”
“No.” Sylvie laughed. “It’s in the middle of nowhere—by London standards, anyway. The nearest village is probably twenty minutes away on foot, and that doesn’t have much of anyth
ing. Tesco is up here in Holyhead.” She paused, and then spoke softly. “I love living here, the privacy it offers. You know, with Alex and all that.”
Lara nodded. She couldn’t imagine what it felt like, to be featured in the press on a regular basis.
They arrived at a pair of shiny metal gates. Sylvie pressed a remote on her keyring, and they swung open and closed neatly again behind them. Lara stared in awe, as the car crunched up a long, curving, gravel drive that bristled with security lights, and up to a huge house. It was built in the same grey stone she’d seen on the way here. Smoke curled invitingly from a single chimney. The rain fell steadily now. Sylvie backed the car as close as possible to the front door, and then they worked together to unload the bags. There was no sign of Alex.
He appeared in the kitchen a little later, while Lara helped Sylvie put away the mountain of shopping.
“Hey, Lara.” He smiled, but it looked awkward.
“Hi, Alex,” It was hard not to feel shy in his presence. “How was your honeymoon? Sylvie said you toured Wales.”
“Yeah. It was good, thanks.” He seemed distracted, and Sylvie noticed too.
She emerged from the freezer, where she’d been stacking bags of frozen chips, and pushed the door firmly closed with a sigh of relief. “Hi.” She walked to him and gave him a quick kiss, then looked at him. “Is something the matter?”
He hesitated, glanced at Lara, then said carelessly, “Nah. It can wait.” He stared at the bags strewn across the floor. “Do you need a hand with anything in here?”
“No. It’s all good. Do you want to brew some coffee, while we finish this?”
“Yeah. Umm... Do you mind if I get back? I was in the middle of something.”
“Sure.” Sylvie frowned when he left the kitchen. “I’d better go check. Come on. I’ll take you upstairs and show you your bedroom. You can come back to the kitchen when you’re ready, and I’ll give you the guided tour.”
****
There was something off about Alex, so Sylvie went to find him.
He was in his office. She expected him to be either working through the backlog of emails, or painstakingly updating his blog, but he was doing neither. He stared out the window, at the rain lashing the gardens. It felt cold, and Sylvie made a mental note to check the thermostat for the central heating.
“Hey,” she said from the doorway. “Is everything okay?”
Alex glanced over his shoulder, and alarm prickled down her spine. His eyes glittered, and he looked as stressed as she’d ever seen him,
“Can we talk?” he asked. “Where’s Lara?”
“She’s upstairs. She’ll be fine for a few minutes.” Sylvie stepped into the room and pushed the door closed behind her. “What’s up?”
Alex held a piece of paper in his right hand. It was loosely rolled, and he tapped it against his leg as he gazed at her. “I’ve had an unexpected email.” He seemed to choose the words carefully.
Sylvie stared at him, running through possibilities in her mind. She could think of nothing that would freak him like this. She stepped forwards, took hold of his left hand, and tried to smile. “You’re scaring me. What happened?”
“Look.” He handed her the piece of paper.
She unrolled it. It was a printout of an email. The name at the top—Moorcroft Investigations—was unfamiliar, and she looked up at him, puzzled. “Moorcroft Investigations? Who are they?”
“They’re a private detective agency I hired. That’s not really important.” He gestured towards the paper. “Read on.”
Subject: Callum Logan, son of Celia Logan
We can confirm the birth-certificate details of the child in question. The father is listed as being Sam David Hamilton.
Following the death of Ms Celia Logan, the child is currently being fostered under the care of the London Borough of Hackney Council.
Please advise if you wish any further work to be carried out. Invoice to follow.
Sylvie was confused. “I don’t understand. What does this mean? Who is Celia Logan?”
Alex broke away and started pacing up and down. “Celia is—or was—Sam’s druggie girlfriend. It was Celia who got Sam well and truly hooked. If he’d broken off with her, he’d be alive now.”
Sylvie waited.
Alex paced some more. “Celia had a baby,” he said. “She was pregnant when Sam died, and I always wondered if it could be his child. She approached me a few times, for handouts. I got fed up of telling her where to go, so I set up these guys, to act on my behalf.”
Sylvie kept her voice light. “What do you mean, on your behalf? They threatened her?”
“No,” he was quick to answer. “What do you take me for?” He paused. “I left a small allowance in their care, and they doled it out to her. I figured it was probably getting spent on drugs, and I have to say, I didn’t care.” Alex swallowed hard. “She OD’d a couple of months ago, and then I learned this was Sam’s baby. My brother had a son. I’m an uncle.”
Sylvie nodded, but she couldn’t see where he was going.
He stepped towards her, grabbed her hands, and stared into her face. “My nephew is living in a foster home right now, and I’m his only living relative.”
What did he expect her to say? Congratulations?
There was a hint of a smile on his face. “My nephew,” he spoke slowly, as though talking to a child. “He is my last link with Sam. Think what I can do for him. He doesn’t have to grow up there. We can take him.”
No. She must have misunderstood. “Are you talking about adopting?”
Alex shrugged. “Adopting, fostering—I don’t care. Whichever is the quickest.”
Words deserted her. She leaned against the door, unsure for a moment if her legs would continue to hold her upright. “Alex,” her voice was faint, “we talked about starting a family. You agreed for us to wait a few years.”
He looked puzzled. “This is adopting; you don’t have to go through the whole pregnancy thing.” His voice softened, and he pulled her into his arms, not acknowledging her stiff reluctance. “We can have our own babies later, like we planned. I still want us to have our children, don’t think that.”
Could she say this without sounding like a heartless bitch? She pulled back to stare anxiously at him. “What if I don’t want to adopt a child at the moment? Do I get a say in this? I mean, how old is this kid?”
His expression was as though she’d kicked him. His face registered pain for a moment, then confusion. “But it’s Sam’s baby,” he repeated earnestly. “Why would I leave him in care, when he has his own family? Us? I couldn’t do that. We have so much to offer.” His gaze searched her face, and she made no effort to hide her growing horror. “I’m sorry, babe, but we’re taking him. I won’t leave him there.”
****
Nick caught up with Jason Farnley in the smokers’ yard. Nick didn’t normally smoke during the day, but it might help with the stress he was under. And there was no Lara at home, to grumble about his stinky breath.
He and Jason bitched about the TM-Tech coverage in the media, swapped feedback on the weekend sports, updated each other on the latest video games they’d bought, and joked about the girl Jason took home from the club on Friday night. She lived out of town, and it cost him a small fortune in taxi fares from Chiswick back to his place in the morning.
Jason took a drag, and then blew the smoke out in two straight trails from his nostrils. Nick watched in admiration. When he tried to do that, it made him sneeze. “That Adele is a bit of all right,” said Jason. “Does she have a bloke?”
“She’s single, mate. Fancy your chances?”
“Might.” Jason blew some perfect smoke rings this time. “Kind of handy—downstairs and all that.” He grinned. “Don’t want to tread on your toes.”
“Hey, I’m happily married. Adele is an old friend. Nothing more.”
“And how is the lovely Lara?”
“She’s lovely.”
Jason nodded, stamp
ed his cigarette butt on the floor, and they ambled back to the office together.
Nick’s mind spun back to the conversation. Would Adele be interested in Jason? He was bouncy and lively, and probably her type. Nick looked out for her at lunchtime, but didn’t see her anywhere. When he checked her calendar, she had a free slot at four, so he flicked her an instant message.
N. ANDERSON: Hey there. Fancy a coffee at 4? Got some goss for you...
She replied rapidly.
A.BISSET: Sure. Coffee always good. Starbucks or your other one?
N.ANDERSON: Other one. C U in reception at 4?
A.BISSET: Any hints about the goss?
N.ANDERSON: Soz. You have to wait and see...
N. ANDERSON HAS SIGNED OFF
Nick was a few minutes late. He watched Adele from a distance as he headed down the corridor. She was elegant as usual, long golden legs stretching out from under her skirt. Her trademark high heels tapped impatiently on the floor as Nick approached and nodded a greeting to her.
They talked about market shares as they walked past the receptionist and set off for the café.
Nick refused to be drawn into specifics until they sat in a quiet corner with their lattes served.
“Come on. What have you to tell me?” Adele gestured with her spoon, before dipping and swirling it in the creamy froth.
“You have a secret admirer. That’s all.”
She glanced up, blushing a bright shade of pink, her eyes dancing. “What? Who are you talking about?” She sounded breathless.
“How about Jase Farnley?”
“Oh.” Her eyebrows rose. She looked down at her drink and stirred the froth some more.
“He was asking if you were single. You know—fishing a bit. I think he’s interested.”
“He’s fun, but I don’t think I like him that much.” She sipped her drink, a hint of a frown on her face. “Something seems off about him. Don’t you think? Like he’s trying too hard?”
Nick shrugged. “He’s just a guy. Who did you think I was talking about?”
“I thought maybe one of the IT guys. Karl. He’s the one who helped me get you home from the club.”
