The cycle of life, he thinks. With every ending, there’s a beginning. Nancy is gone, but the future is theirs. Momentarily he shuts his eyes, sees tiny hands, a little face staring back at him, a baby full of love and neediness. It was denied him last go-round, but this time…maybe in a year or two…he’ll have his wish. He should get a ring maybe? Now that the charm necklace has been approved, maybe she trusts his jewelry choices. There’s that place in London with all the posh diamonds. Hatton something? Hatton Garden. He digs out his phone and makes a note, when all this is settled, to speak to Aggie about ring ideas.
Obviously he should start by introducing himself to Jess’s father, man to man.
“Mr. Barrow,” he says, aiming for sleek geniality. “I’m Tim.”
“Call me Richard.”
“It’s excellent to meet you at last, in spite of these sad circumstances. You’re probably already aware, but I’m dating Jess. We’re moving in together. Perhaps we should sit down, have a chat some time? Share a pint?”
He’s not quite the in-law Tim imagined—golfing days, family lunches, walks in the forest. But there you go. Jess is the important one. Keep things upbeat, pull these tenuous family ties together.
“So.” Tim stands up. “Another round, everyone?”
“No, no,” says Richard. “Allow me.”
“No, please, my turn,” Tim insists.
“Honestly, it’s my turn,” says Richard.
“Yes,” say Jess and Aggie together. “It’s definitely your turn, Dad.”
***
Guy paces, runs his hands through his curls. Timing. Perhaps the timing is wrong. Or completely right. How can he know? He just has to go for it. He stares at the pub door. Jess is in there. She’s captive—although that’s a terrible word—but the point is, he has to get her on the spot, grab her attention, and open her eyes. He can’t let her make excuses and run away again. They could be great together. He knows it. And he’s pretty certain, beneath the bluster, that she knows it too. He sighs, takes a breath. What is this? Butterflies? For the first time since childhood, he actually has butterflies. She—Jess of the bloody Doughnuts—is giving him butterflies. He can only hope she likes big, embarrassing displays of heartfelt honesty.
He twiddles his leopard ring, draws strength from its presence. He sighs again, then with a now-or-never push, he makes his way into the pub, spies her through the crowd.
***
Jess is weary. Her father, her sister, Tim…all of them seem hell-bent on crowding her today. She knows they mean well, but if they could see inside her head, they’d understand how scrambled it is. She just needs space, time to breathe. She gets up, clatters from the table, heads for the toilets, then halfway across the pub floor, she is stopped in her tracks…
Guy stands square in front of her, takes hold of her arms.
“Jess,” he says, eyes more sparkly than ever; that impish, impulsive smile bursting from his face.
“Wha—what are you doing here?”
“Don’t talk,” he says, still smiling. “Just listen.”
She glances around her, aware that everyone in the room is now looking in their direction.
“I’m really sorry about Nancy,” he says. “I realize what she meant to you. Is that your family?” He nods to the table, the opened mouths. “They look like a good bunch.” Then he lowers his voice. “Except for your sister, with the judgy eyes, which are boring into my back right now. Not convinced she’s a fan, but…the thing is, Jess, what I’ve come to say is this—”
He fumbles in his pocket, pulls out a purple box. He stares at it, then offers it to her.
“Of course, if you’d rather stick with high-street replacements…” he says, scrutinizing the silver charm necklace dangling from her neck. “I mean, really, Jess. After all we talked about, please tell me you’re only wearing that because your niece and nephew gave it to you.”
“It was Tim, actually,” she says, hoping he’ll take the hint and keep his voice down. “Tim gave it to me.”
Guy gives her a look, such a look, then blows a rush of air through his mouth.
“The thing is,” he says, fingers trembling as he opens the box, “I made a mistake. I got all petulant and demanded the necklace back when I shouldn’t have, because what I truly understand now is that this butterfly is meant for you.”
He removes the True Love necklace from its insert and offers it out. Jess’s mouth falls open, part shock, part wonder. The necklace, back where it belongs. She knows that everyone, including Tim and Aggie, and her father at the bar, are all watching; that a tide of outrage is about to descend on her. And yet she feels caught in the rare, alluring magic that the necklace imbues—the interplay, the spark it ignites between observer and observed. Not just a body ornament, but an enchantment.
“I’ve sorted things out with Stella,” Guy explains. “I’ve told her I’m done, quitting the trap I’ve been in. I gave her back the money for the necklace. She thinks I’ve gone insane, and judging by her last few messages, she’s pretty pissed off, but if that’s what it takes to prove that I want to start something—”
“Start something?” Jess blinks, glances at Tim. “What do you mean?”
“I want to start an adventure. With you, Jess.”
Before she can articulate a sound response, he cups her cheeks in his hands, takes his lips to hers, and kisses her with such passion and power that her eyes are forced shut and her body feels weightless. The rest of the room blurs. The smell of him, the feel of him; she tingles all over, melts into his touch, unable and unwilling to resist. His lips are so soft, his body warmth so soothing, but…
“Stop!” she cries, shaking her head. “You can’t just turn up here with all this…fanfare. You can’t come at a person, out of the blue, kiss them in the middle of their grandmother’s wake, with all their family watching, and their boyfriend and—”
“Is that the bit that bothers you?” says Guy. “That your family are watching, because—”
“Oh, there is so much about this that bothers me, Guy. Don’t you get it? We can’t do this. It’s not meant to be. I don’t trust you. You’re not the trustworthy type. And that’s no good for me. We can have all the sparkly, doughnut-based moments we like, but if the foundation isn’t there—”
Guy throws his head back, exasperated, but still smiling.
“Why are you so determined to shove me into a ‘type,’ Jess? I’m just…me. Sure, I’m kind of flawed. And, yes, I’ve got some questions to answer, but give me a chance. Get to know the me I am, versus the me you think I am. I can’t promise we’ll live happily ever after. I can’t make assurances that we’ll spend the next twenty years setting ourselves up with a mortgage, marriage, mini-mes, and life insurance. I won’t guarantee that it’ll be roses every minute of every day, but what I can tell you is this… From the moment we met, something clicked in my head. And I think it clicked in yours too. Am I right?”
“I–I—”
Her instincts curl and coil—that fear in her soul, so deep and primal, telling her she cannot, must not be fooled again.
“I am indeed Guy Davis.” His eyes are wide and purposeful. “Which is a really bland, crappy name that I decided I didn’t want, but that doesn’t mean I’m not capable of being truthful. I mean, if you want the truth, Jess, the fact is, I started calling myself Guy van der Meer because it gave me confidence. With a name like that, I became important. I felt important. Suddenly, I was a diamond heir with a rich history, rather than Guy Davis from Ramsgate.”
He holds up his leopard ring.
“It’s not an heirloom, Jess. I bought it in a junk shop six years ago. My parents were nasty, penniless fuckups, so I grew up in foster homes. By the time I was sixteen, I’d had fourteen different addresses, six different schools, and no qualifications. But I wanted better for myself, so I moved to London and I made it
work. I bought this ring with my first decent paycheck, then I made up a whole story in my head about how it had been left to me by my wonderful father.”
He stares at it and laughs.
“Silly, really, but you know what? Sometimes when I look at it, I almost believe in that father.”
He looks at Jess, eyes pained.
“I promise I’ll tell you the truth about my life, about the games I’ve played, the mistakes I’ve made, and the ways in which I’ve risen above them, if you’ll just give me the time. Because you’re the one, Jess. You’re the one I can be myself with.”
She senses he’s about to kiss her again. But there is Tim, lurching toward them with the most furious deputy head glower on his face.
“Mate,” he says, coming between them.
Guy steps back.
“She’s had enough, all right? I’m not sure what you think you’re playing at here, but—”
“Oh, I’m not playing,” says Guy. “I’m deadly serious.”
“Wise guy, are you?” Tim sneers.
“Just Guy, actually.”
Guy offers a handshake, but it has the air of a windup. Tim puffs out his chest, plays for dignity, but refuses the shake. After a moment, Guy retracts, turns it into waggle-fingered raspberry.
“How very mature,” says Tim, then he looks to Jess. “Are you okay? Do you need me to get someone to escort this…desperado out of the pub?”
“Desperado?” says Guy. “What…you can’t take a bit of healthy competition, my quote-unquote ‘mate’?”
Tim inhales, eyes bulging.
“You’re hardly competition,” he growls. “She’s with me. She isn’t interested. You’ve teased her with her grandmother’s necklace for weeks, and now you’ve got the cheek to barge into her family wake and act like you’re some kind of jumped-up heroic Romeo. But my instinct is that you’re merely a freeloader. Always were, always will be. Leopards don’t change.”
At this, a veil of anger shadows Guy’s face. His whole body tenses. Tim stares him down.
Don’t fight, Jess wills them. Anything but that.
Too late. Guy attempts to put Tim in his place with a dismissive flick of the hand. Tim flies back at him, dignity over, fists in the air. But being of otherwise gentle character, unaccustomed to pub brawls, he misses and stumbles into a stack of chairs. He gets up, wipes his brow, has a second go. On both sides, there is some shoving, scrapping, a definite attempt to tug hair. Then they stumble apart, breathless and messy. And then, just in time, Jess’s dad returns with a tray of frothing amber pints.
“So.” He grins, oblivious. “How are we getting on? Here you go, Tim. Get this down you and—”
Suddenly he spies the necklace in Jess’s hands. The color drains out of his face and he drops the entire tray of drinks to the floor. Beer and foam and shards of glass fly everywhere, the sound reverberating around the pub. If they weren’t watching the unfolding drama before, they will be now.
“Where…where did you get that?”
“From Nancy,” says Jess sullenly. “She made me find it before she died.”
“How?” He looks aghast. “How could she have? I made sure—”
Jess cocks her head.
“You knew about it?”
“Of course I bloody knew about it!” he yells, and then without a goodbye, he storms out of the pub.
***
“Well,” says Aggie, smarting in the corner, her red lips pursed, “this has all gone how I hoped it would.”
Meanwhile, regardless of what Tim would like to do to Guy, the bar staff save him the pleasure. They pick Guy up by the scruff of his shirt and walk him toward the door.
“You need some fresh air, mate.”
“I’m not your mate either,” Guy protests, but the staff are unmoved.
As he’s carried away, he calls to Jess: “Let’s have an adventure, you and me!”
Just make it stop, she wishes. It’s too much. Too, too much. She drops her head, shuts her eyes.
“Join me!” he cries as he is dragged out of the door, the last of his dignity trailing after his feet. “Arms wide open!”
And then he is gone. And the pub is silent. And Jess feels like crawling into the biggest hole she can find and never coming out.
But first she has to face Aggie, whose big-sister scowl says: Jessica Taylor, you’ve got some explaining to do. And Ed, who has leaped into brotherhood mode, ushering Tim back to the family table, smoothing his shirt, telling him to stay cool. And Marcus who is giggling uncontrollably into his games console—who’d blame him? And then of course Steph, dearest Steph, her eyes on stalks, unlikely to ever take her aunt’s romantic advice seriously again.
Within all of the noise, however, Jess also has her father’s appearance and sudden disappearance to cogitate on. His reaction to the necklace, what was that about? Oh god. The necklace, she hugs it. A bolt of emotion strikes her—the realization that Guy brought it back for her. All this drama, just so he could give her the necklace. And now she has them both, Tim’s charm chain and the Taylor butterfly. Their twin presence is almost suffocating.
She looks across at Tim, the Taylor-Hoppit clan rallying around him, patting his back. Their eyes meet. He gives her a withering look and mouths I love you. He’ll be apologetic later, mortally embarrassed. He’ll have the good sense to admit he acted rashly, that he was an idiot, but he’ll also tell her he’d do the same again, if it means protecting their relationship. He’ll always be loyal.
Yet her heart screams to check on Guy. She owes him that at least.
She finds him in the street. He is pacing, looking out for a cab. His lip is bloody.
“Wait!” she cries. “Oh god! Is your mouth okay?”
He turns to her.
“Bah, it’s nothing,” he says with dented pride.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “Tim was just…really… He isn’t normally like that…although, to be fair, you did kind of piss on his patch.”
“Maybe,” says Guy, half-smiling, running a hand through his curls. “But to be honest, Jess, I’d do it again. I’ve got an idea for us, you see. I was thinking—”
Jess sighs. Here he goes again. He is torturing himself, never mind her.
“One last shot,” he says. “Just listen. I’m going away—and I know it’s a whirlwind—but I think you should come with me. That tip-off I got at the Capital Gala was about an antique ruby brooch in Cape Verde. For a good old boy who wants it for his sick wife. Decent commission. I’m taking the 19:20 ship from Southampton two weeks from Saturday. I thought you might prefer a ship to a plane. Who doesn’t like to cruise? We’ll travel in style. Old school. Treasure hunter’s way.”
Jess shuts her eyes. Somewhere in her mind there is space for this, a space that says YES! But it’s not a space she can venture to right now. All she needs now…is grounding. Guy nods, as though the action will persuade her.
“I know there’s Education Tim to think of,” he continues, “but what can I say? He’s an arsehole, leave him. Except…he’s not, is he? He’s obviously a nice person—despite calling me a desperado and trying to punch me—and he gets the backing of your sister and he’s got one of those really big Fitbits, which only super-reliable, sporty dudes wear, but”—he gives her wink—“he’s not the guy for you. I’m the Guy. Hey, did you hear what I did there?”
“Everything’s a joke to you,” says Jess, exasperated.
“But you like a joke.”
“Guy, you have to leave me alone.”
“But—”
“I feel secure with Tim, secure and happy. We have plans. We have a future. Meeting you, all the chemistry between us, I kind of think it’s been a test, just a test to see whether Tim and I really are meant to work out—”
“A test? Jess, I think about you all the time. Honestly, it’s lik
e I’m addicted to you. And yet…you’re trying to tell me you think it’s just a test. Are you kidding?”
Jess tenses, looks down.
“And we passed,” she says solemnly. “I know what I need in life, and I’m sorry, Guy, but it’s not you.”
He frowns, the hurt etched into his face.
“What, Jess, what is it about me that you’re so afraid of?”
She shrugs, holds up her walking cane.
“This,” she says, suddenly teary. “Going through all this again.”
“I promise I will never pack you a parachute—”
“Not literally. Just…the hurt of being let down by someone I thought adored me.” She backs away. “You said it yourself. You’re not able to give me guarantees. But Tim is. It’s his way. So if you really care about me, if you really care, then you’ll leave me alone.”
A cab pulls up. Guy opens the door, hopeful that in the final moment she’ll change her mind. But Jess stands resolute, emotions in lockdown. Eventually he climbs in, briefly dipping his head to acknowledge the butterfly necklace at her hands, then slams the door and looks ahead. The cab moves away. And this time Jess doesn’t attempt to chase after it.
Chapter Nineteen
Jess puts the necklace in its purple box and tucks it away in a drawer. The next day, she adds the boat ticket Guy has sent her, promised passage to Cape Verde, along with a photograph of the prize ruby brooch. His presumptuousness, among several other attributes, is both his allure and his downfall, she thinks. He sends her a message asking if she received the ticket. Has she possibly come to her senses? She doesn’t respond, and whether respecting her request for space or having moved onto the next, he doesn’t message again.
Tim takes over and Jess lets him. He soothes the frustration she holds, not just toward Guy, but toward all the exes who’d promised her the earth, then only delivered the topsoil. His even temperament wraps her in comfort, and they get on with the business of selecting the kitchen countertop and appliances. He takes her on a cheer-up spa day, even though saunas make her break out in hives. He cooks for her. Lets her watch what she likes on Netflix. And in the moments he’s not with her, he bombards her with photos of Persian cats.
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