by Della Galton
Just for a second, she imagined the life she would have if she went back to Tom. She saw herself heavily pregnant, pinning an elephant mobile, like the one she’d seen in JoJo Maman Bébé, above a luxury cot in a nursery that she and Tom had chosen.
Just for a second, she imagined herself in the garden of their house on the cliff, pushing a toddler on a swing and hearing her shrieks of delight. A little girl who would totter across the grass, chubby arms outstretched, shouting, ‘Mummy, Mummy’.
There was suddenly an ache of longing so fierce in her heart that it doubled Olivia over with pain.
Oh my God, what was she thinking? Surely she wasn’t considering going back to Tom. Not even if he could give her a dozen babies. You didn’t go out with someone – marry someone, just for what they could give you. You married them because you couldn’t live without them. You married them because you loved them desperately. Yes, she had once felt like that about Tom, but it was in the past. All in the past.
In her bag, on the passenger seat, her mobile bleeped with a text. Olivia half expected it to be Tom chasing her up for her answer. He had never been big on patience. But it was Clarice.
Call me when you have a moment. I have something that might be of interest.
Clarice hardly ever got in touch on a Saturday.
Relieved to be diverted from her painful thoughts, Olivia called her and discovered her phone was engaged.
Why did people ask you to call them and then phone someone else?
She tried again several times in the next five minutes with the same result. In the end, she gave up and, gritting her teeth with frustration, she drove to the supermarket.
Clarice’s phone was still engaged when Olivia came out and loaded her bags into the back of the van. She was beginning to think there must be something wrong with the line. Then, just before five, she finally got through.
‘Ah, Olivia.’ Her agent’s voice was all sweetness and light. ‘Thank you for calling me back. I’ve got a proposition for you. Just let me find the paperwork.’
22
Olivia listened to the rustle of paperwork on the end of the line and felt as though she would burst with impatience. Then finally Clarice came back to her.
‘Right, here we are. I’ve had a phone call from a casting director from Channel Four. It’s another hospital series called Nightingales, you may have heard of it, they’ve done two series, which were well-received, and there will be another one, maybe two. They’re looking for a female administrator on the board of governors. Someone who’s immensely powerful but also messed up. I think she may be an alcoholic. Shall I email you the script?’
‘Is the Pope Catholic!’ Olivia said before remembering she was supposed to be professional.
Clarice sniffed. Or it could have been a chuckle. ‘They’re doing auditions in Bristol a week on Thursday. Start date for filming is October, so they won’t be hanging about. What’s your availability?’
‘No problem for the audition,’ Olivia said automatically, thinking about Ruby. ‘When in October?’
‘They’re starting on the fourteenth.’
Olivia gulped. Ruby’s due date was the seventeenth.’
‘That isn’t an issue, is it?’ There was a note of concern in Clarice’s voice.
‘No,’ Olivia said quickly. ‘That sounds perfect.’
She crossed her fingers mentally. First babies were always late, weren’t they?
Olivia reiterated this old wives’ tale about late first babies to Aunt Dawn when she told her the news about the Nightingales audition.
Aunt Dawn clapped her hands and jumped up and down on the spot. ‘Of course they are, darling. So I’m told. And you haven’t agreed to be Ruby’s birth partner, have you?’
‘No. She says she’s not having one. You know how independent my sister is. She said the only thing worse than having a family member kicking about in the delivery room would be having the father there. And that’s definitely not going to happen.’
‘She hasn’t said anything about the father lately. I’m taking it he is still planning to absolve himself from all responsibility, is he?’
‘I haven’t heard her say anything different,’ Olivia admitted.
‘Well, I guess time will tell what happens there.’
Phil was over the moon when Olivia told him her news. Because they’d hardly seen each other lately she had been expecting a slightly cooler reception, but he was as lovely as always.
‘That is the best news I’ve had all week.’ And even though they were only speaking on the phone, she could hear him grinning. ‘Well done, honey. You’ll get this one.’
‘Don’t tempt fate.’
‘I’m not.’ A beat. ‘I have every confidence in you. Clearly, so does your agent. You just need to start believing in yourself.’
‘Thanks. You always say the right things.’ She felt her voice go slightly husky. It was true he did. Phil was unfailingly supportive, her biggest fan. And she was feeling slightly guilty because she hadn’t yet told him about Tom’s visit. She had told herself this was because it wasn’t the sort of thing she wanted to say over the phone and they hadn’t seen each other face to face, but she wasn’t sure if that was true.
She realised suddenly that he was speaking again.
‘I’ve got some news actually…’
‘Oh tell me, tell me. I need some good news. Have you got an exciting job too?’
‘No such luck. No. It’s about scuba diving. I found the skipper of a dive boat who goes out of Weymouth Harbour and he’s happy to take us along. He’s the partner of one of the waitresses at The Bluebell. I had a chat with him and he’s happy to drop us at a dive site next time he takes a group out. It wouldn’t be the private tuition we were thinking of because the instructor already has his quota of beginners, so we’d be doing our own thing. But they won’t go deep – fifteen metres max – but I thought it might be quite a good opportunity for us to have a little dip and refresh our memories while there’s someone else around. And I’ve got mates’ rates. So it’s a cheap way of doing it. What do you think?’
‘I’d love it. When is it?’
‘That’s the even better news. We can go any Sunday morning. We just need to find one when we’re both free. And obviously the time will depend on the tides.’
‘I’ll check my diary.’ She grabbed it and looked. ‘Not tomorrow. But I’m free for the next two.’
‘I can clear a space for one of them. Great. Done. I’ll see how he’s fixed. And talking of tomorrow, am I seeing you? It seems like ages.’
‘Yes, definitely,’ Olivia said, feeling ridiculously pleased at the idea of seeing him. ‘What shall we do?’
‘Let’s have lunch at a wonderful little country pub I know.’
They met at the Rose and Crown, which was midway between them both. It was an upmarket place without being snobby. More countryside pub than coastal one, it had a stag’s head on the wall and there were things on the specials board like game soup and breast of pheasant.
As they sat down, Olivia glanced at Phil’s face. He looked tired. She knew he’d been working all hours – they both had. Or was he stressed because they still hadn’t properly talked?
‘I think we should plan a holiday,’ she said impulsively. ‘What do you reckon? A nice block of time. Just for us.’
‘Yeah.’ He didn’t sound as enthusiastic as she’d hoped. ‘It’s a bit tricky at work at the moment. Clara hasn’t been there much. We tend to cover each other. But yeah – I’ll look at the rota. For the next fortnight I haven’t got time to blink. I know that.’
He picked up his menu and, feeling slightly deflated, Olivia followed suit.
They both chose chicken and skinny fries and while they waited for it to arrive, they chatted about the role Clarice had called her about.
‘Nightingales is getting some rave reviews,’ Phil said. ‘It’s got awesome viewing figures and my spies tell me they have the heads-up on at least two more series. No
t to mention the fact that they are keen on launching brilliant but less well-known British actors and actresses.’
‘That’s because we’re cheaper,’ Olivia said cynically. ‘What spies?’
Phil tapped his nose. ‘That would be telling.’
They both laughed.
‘It seems ages since I’ve seen you,’ she said, looking across at his lovely face and feeling that familiar lurch that never quite went. ‘Apart from Clara going AWOL, how are things at the Bluebell?’
‘That’s what I like about you,’ Phil said. ‘Your discerning perception and the ability to cut straight to the heart of the matter.
‘You do?’ Olivia frowned. ‘Um…’
‘It’s OK, I’m teasing, but The Bluebell is actually the source of my intel on Nightingales. We had two producers in for dinner the other night and they were talking about it.’
‘No way.’
‘Yes way.’ He looked very pleased with himself. ‘Want to know more?’
‘Of course I want to know more. Tell me, tell me, tell me…’ As she jumped forward in excitement, she accidentally knocked a fork off the table, which skidded across the wooden floor into the path of an oncoming waiter, who looked startled. ‘Sorry,’ she said.
‘No worries, madam. I’ll get you another one.’ He bent to pick it up and hurried back towards the kitchen. As he opened the connecting door, the scent of roast beef and rosemary wafted into the bar.
‘Well…’ Phil said, leaning forward. ‘If you’ve finished causing chaos?’ His eyes gleamed with humour. ‘I’ll tell you. Have you ever heard of the actor Simon Caine? I don’t think he’s any relative of Michael, but he’s very up-and-coming. He’s just been given a part in the new series for starters… You could be playing opposite him.’
‘If I get the part. But yes, I’ve heard of him. Oh my goodness. Clarice didn’t mention him. This audition’s going to be even more high stakes than the last one! Now I’m terrified.’
‘Don’t be. You just have to do your best. Your best is more than good enough.’ His dark eyes held hers and she was touched. It was lovely knowing he had so much faith in her. Even if he didn’t want to go on holiday just yet. Maybe he did. Maybe he really was just busy. She should probably stop edging around the subject and just dive straight into the matter of their future. After they’d eaten, she would do just that.
The waiter arrived back with their chicken and fries and a replacement fork, and they had just started eating when a shadow fell over their table. Olivia thought it was the waiter back again to ask how they were enjoying their meal. Why did they always do that when you had your mouth full?
But it wasn’t the waiter. It was Tom. For a moment, she thought she had slipped into an alternative universe. What was Tom doing here? He was dressed casually – well as casual as it ever got where Tom was concerned – in designer chinos and one of his tailor-made jackets. Olivia caught a waft of his expensive aftershave.
‘Greetings,’ he said, giving a half nod towards Phil before returning his gaze to Olivia. ‘I don’t mean to intrude, but I thought it was you when I saw that fork go flying just now. So I took the liberty of coming to say hello.’
Phil looked at him blankly and then shot Olivia a puzzled look.
‘Phil, this is Tom. Tom, Phil,’ she said, feeling obliged to introduce them and wishing she didn’t have to.
Phil put down his knife and fork and wiped his face with a napkin. ‘Pleased to meet you, Tom.’
‘Likewise,’ Tom said. ‘Liv and I go back a long way. Always a pleasure to meet her friends.’ He was smiling, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.
‘Are you here with friends?’ Olivia asked, adding pointedly, ‘Please don’t abandon them on our account.’
Surely even Tom with his rhinoceros hide could read the code for, Please go away, we’re eating and this is a private party, but unfortunately he didn’t seem to be in any particular hurry.
‘I’m here with Mum. It’s her birthday.’ He gestured across the dining area to where a grey-haired smartly dressed woman sat. Caroline. Her face lit up when she saw Olivia looking her way and she gave a little hopeful wave.
Olivia waved back, feeling more awkward than ever. Of course it was Caroline’s birthday. She couldn’t believe she’d forgotten.
‘She sends her love,’ Tom told Olivia. ‘She was so pleased when I told her I’d seen you the other day, and now here we are again. Anyway, apologies, I’ve taken enough of your time. Enjoy your lunch.’ With one more nod towards Olivia, he moved away.
Olivia felt Phil’s eyes on her. She could also feel her face burning. ‘Sorry about that.’
‘You don’t need to apologise. I’m more than happy to meet your friends. Who was he anyway?’
‘That was Tom Boyd,’ she said. ‘My ex.’
‘Ah,’ he said and then his eyes shadowed slightly. ‘The gem dealer who went to Spain. Hence the tan.’
She nodded, waiting for the inevitable next question. Phil was no fool. He was bound to pick up on Tom’s comment about this not being the first time they’d met.
Instead, he said, ‘Has he been back long?’
‘About a month, I think. He turned up at my house on Thursday night. He was waiting for me when I got back from seeing Eric. I was going to tell you, Phil, but I just haven’t got round to it…’ She broke off. She knew she was babbling, but it was hard to stop.
She looked at his face. Phil was always hard to read. But right now, it was impossible. He certainly didn’t look cross, just maybe a little puzzled.
‘So, what did he want?’ he asked.
Oh my God – that was the last conversation she wanted to have. For one wild moment, she considered lying and saying that he’d just been passing and hadn’t wanted anything at all. But she didn’t want to lie to Phil. That was one of the things they’d both said early on in their relationship – no lies, they would always be straight with each other.
‘He wanted me to go back to him,’ she said haltingly. ‘And I told him that I’d moved on and that I was happy with you.’
There was a pause. ‘Didn’t you break up with him because you wanted children and he didn’t?’
It was the question she’d been dreading he’d ask. ‘That’s right.’
‘So why would he think you’d want him back? Or did being over in Spain – the spiritual home of extended families – cause him to change his mind and make him broody for a family of his own?’
Phil’s acute perceptiveness and his ability to home straight in on important truths was one of the things she loved about him – one of the things that made their relationship special and good.
‘He had changed his mind. Yes,’ she said finally.
For a few seconds, he didn’t speak. He sipped his fizzy water – they were both driving. ‘Were you tempted?’
‘No,’ she said and then again too quickly. ‘No, of course I wasn’t tempted.’
‘Even though you’ve landed up dating an out-of-work actor who can’t give you children.’ His voice was so blank and quiet that she felt fleetingly chilled. All of the joy and excitement that had sizzled between them before Tom had arrived had disappeared. Sucked out of the air and leaving an atmosphere that was flat and brittle.
Olivia searched frantically for something to say that would put a smile back on his face, but she couldn’t think of a single thing that wouldn’t sound patronising.
They finished their meal in an uncomfortable atmosphere of small talk and awkwardness. They didn’t order desserts.
When they left the pub, Tom and his mother had just been served champagne in an ice bucket and the waiter was making a big thing about popping the cork. Olivia was torn between going to say happy birthday to Caroline – none of this was her fault – and not wanting to make things any more difficult for Phil. Her loyalty to Phil won and she left the pub without looking in the direction of her ex and his mother.
Outside, she and Phil wandered towards their respective cars. They reach
ed Olivia’s first. There had been a space beside it when she had pulled in. This was now filled by a top-of-the-range, very shiny black Mercedes with a personalised number plate. Tom 100. He’d bought that number plate to celebrate his first hundred-thousand- pound commission.
‘Nice car,’ Phil said, glancing at it. ‘So, he’s rich, as well as family-orientated. Hard for a girl to refuse.’
There was a flicker of petulance in his voice that she had never heard before, but Olivia really couldn’t blame him. He must feel terrible. And she had lied to him, even if only by omission.
‘I don’t want my ex back,’ she told Phil, taking a step closer and touching his cheek. ‘You’re the only man I want in my life. Truly.’
Phil looked mollified. ‘I’m sorry.’ He rubbed his forehead with the flat of his palm. ‘I’m acting like a jealous teenager. Ignore me.’ He gave her a rueful smile.
‘It’s fine. I should have told you about his surprise visit.’
‘You didn’t really have the chance.’ He gave her a get-out clause, his dark eyes going serious again. ‘I know you have a lot of history with the man. I don’t know what came over me.’
‘And it is just history,’ she said. ‘Nothing to worry us.’
‘Good. I’m looking forward to scuba diving next time we meet.’
‘Me too. Very much. But that’s not for two weeks. Aren’t we meeting before then?’
‘I’m not sure if I can. What with Clara being away.’ He ran a hand through his hair. ‘It’s spectacularly bad timing. I’m sorry.’
‘Yes.’ She wouldn’t bring up the subject of their future now – the timing for that felt spectacularly bad too, but she would do it on scuba diving Sunday. They had the whole day together and the whole night and they could talk properly then.
