‘But surely she can’t blame you for Paul leaving?’ Piers said reasonably.
‘She does,’ said Penny.
‘But … he’s gay. He left you for another man, for heaven’s sake.’
‘Yes. And Emma would say I drove him to it.’
‘How? By having a vagina?’ asked Piers.
It was the funniest thing Penny had ever heard him say, not to mention the rudest. For the first time all evening she threw back her head and really laughed, then immediately regretted it when the throbbing in her temples returned with a vengeance. What on earth is wrong with me?
‘You’re terribly pretty, you know. When you smile,’ said Piers. ‘You should try it more often.’
It was a clumsy chat-up line, but Penny appreciated it all the same. For a fleeting moment, she wondered if he might be about to lean over the table and kiss her. But, instead, his slight forward motion turned into a wave towards the waitress.
‘Bill, please,’ he said briskly. ‘You know, I’d be happy to talk to her if you’d like.’
‘Emma?’ Penny looked at him incredulously.
‘Yes. You know, as an older man. It might help.’
Penny tried to imagine anybody Emma was less likely to listen to, or respect, than Piers. Both her children wore their loathing for the only man she’d spent any time with since their father left on their sleeves. Was it possible that Piers hadn’t picked up on this hostility? Did he – could he possibly – imagine that Emma would accept him for one split second as a substitute father figure?
‘It’s a very kind offer,’ she said carefully. ‘But I don’t think it would help. In fact, I’m sure it wouldn’t.’
‘Really?’
He looked crestfallen. But there was no way around it. Any attempt to foist his advice on Emma would end in abject disaster. Blood injuries couldn’t be ruled out.
‘Really,’ Penny said firmly.
‘Perhaps I could have a word with the irksome Argie, then. Get him to back off,’ Piers offered helpfully, resting one hand lightly on the small of Penny’s back as he escorted her out to the car park.
‘Something tells me that wouldn’t work, either,’ she said with a sigh, climbing into the driver’s seat of her battered old Renault Clio. ‘But I do appreciate the offer, Piers. Truly. Sometimes I have no idea why you’re so kind to me.’
As soon as she said it, she regretted it. It sounded horribly as if she were fishing for a compliment; or, worse, some declaration of Piers’s intentions. Perhaps thinking the same thing, Piers cleared his throat awkwardly and leaned in through the window to plant a clumsy kiss on Penny’s cheek. ‘You’ll be all right to get home?’ he mumbled, more for something to say than anything.
‘Of course,’ said Penny blushing. ‘Thank you for a lovely dinner.’
In her eagerness to get away, she shot out of the car park far too fast, then promptly got lost in Lewes’s complicated one-way system. One of Paul’s biggest bugbears in their marriage had been her nonexistent sense of direction. Feeling his invisible vibes of disapproval now, Penny got more and more anxious, turning the wrong way down a one-way street and almost hitting the wall of one of the narrow, cobbled alleys that led out of the old town. By the time she emerged onto Heywoods Lane, the familiar back road to Fittlescombe and the other Swell Valley villages, sweat had soaked through the back of her dress and adrenaline was still coursing unpleasantly through her veins. The headache that had come and gone all evening had now reached epic proportions, as if all the stresses of her family life were trying simultaneously to drill their way out of her cranium.
Suddenly, she began to feel dizzy. She wound down her window for some fresh air, but it didn’t seem to help much. Forcing herself to focus hard on the road, she tried to grip the steering wheel more tightly, but her palms were so sweaty they started sliding around everywhere. Shooting out her right foot in search of the brake pedal, she accidentally hit the accelerator instead, sending the little car jerking forwards like a broken toy. After that, everything happened at lightning speed. She saw another car in the distance, coming towards her. Then, like some awful surrealist nightmare, the hedges on either side of the lane seemed to rear up and enclose her. Penny swerved, and felt the steering wheel slip out of her hands completely. Then everything went black.
*****
From the top of the hill, Santiago de la Cruz watched in shock, then horror, as the little red Renault swerved across the lane for no obvious reason before plunging at some speed into a ditch.
By the time he reached the scene, screeching to halt and leaping out of his Maserati, the driver was already starting to come to. He saw at once who it was, and felt a stab of real fear when he saw how close she’d come to hitting an oak tree. Had she lost control just a second later, she could easily have been killed.
‘Mrs Harwich.’ He leaned in through the open window, trying to keep his voice steady and reassuring. ‘Mrs Harwich, can you hear me?’
Penny opened her eyes. She was still in the car, with her head resting on the dashboard. Bizarrely, the passenger-side airbag had inflated but not the driver’s. Instinctively, she put a hand to her temple and felt warm, sticky blood against her fingers. Panic welled up inside her, followed by nausea.
‘Let me help you.’
‘It’s you,’ she mumbled drowsily.
‘Yes.’ Santiago smiled. He did not look or sound the way he had yesterday. In jeans and an open-necked shirt, he looked to have lost all the arrogance and hostility that Penny remembered from their earlier encounter. His voice was no longer angry and disdainful, but gentle and kind and full of concern.
‘You’re following me,’ she joked weakly.
‘Someone needs to,’ said Santiago. ‘You drive like a lunatic. Is anything broken?’
Gingerly, Penny leaned back in her seat, wiggling her toes and fingers and moving her neck slowly from side to side.
‘No. I don’t think so.’
‘Can you move? If I help you out of the car?’
She nodded. The car was at an angle, head down in the ditch that ran along the side of the lane, and with the driver’s-side headlight smashed against a young ash tree. There was no way to open the door. Thankfully, Penny was tiny enough to fit through the open window. Once she’d removed her seatbelt, Santiago reached in and scooped her up under the arms, pulling her out onto the grass verge as easily as a child retrieving a rag doll.
She was bruised, but the worst thing was still her headache. Her confusion at running into Santiago again only seemed to make it worse. ‘What are you doing here?’ she asked, frowning. ‘Where were you going when you saw me?’
‘Never mind that,’ said Santiago. ‘Where’s the nearest hospital? I’ll drive you to A & E.’
‘There’s no need.’ Sitting on the grass in the gathering twilight, Penny pressed her fingers over the gash on her forehead. The blood was thick and coagulated enough to tell her that the bleeding had stopped. Barring a few scrapes and bruises, her headache and some wounded pride, she was fine. ‘I ought to go home and call the insurers, though. And the AA, to come and pick this up.’ She gestured towards the car that was hissing quietly next to them.
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Santiago said, very firmly. ‘Of course you must go to hospital. Head injuries are no joke, you know.’
‘I wasn’t joking,’ Penny protested meekly. ‘It’s just that—’
‘No more talking. We’re going.’
Scooping her up into his arms like Ivanhoe, Santiago marched over to his waiting Maserati, deposited Penny gently into the passenger seat and drove off, before she had a chance to protest. Growing up in Argentina, Santiago had always seen it as part of the man’s role to take charge. Latin women expected it, but here in England it was seen as something of a novelty. Some girls objected, but Santiago had found that most appreciated his brand of macho Argentine confidence. Not that he would have changed it, even if they hadn’t. Decisiveness, like arrogance, was hard-wired into Santiago de la C
ruz’s DNA.
‘So where’s the hospital?’ He kept his eyes fixed on the road.
‘Chichester,’ said Penny. Resistance was clearly futile. ‘Go to the A27 and turn right.’
Santiago drove on in silence. Watching him lean back in the seat, completely relaxed, barely moving except for the occasional twitch of a jeans-clad thigh as he gave the car more gas, or flick of the wrist as he changed gear, Penny thought what a good driver he was, and what an awful one she was by comparison. She imagined him on horseback, as fluid and graceful in the saddle as a ballet dancer; or on ice skates, gliding across a frozen lake, swift and silent and—
‘Is something the matter?’
To her profound embarrassment, Penny realized she’d been staring at him. She’d been thinking how glamorous and attractive he must seem in Emma’s eyes, how impossible for an impressionable girl her daughter’s age to resist. But that wasn’t what it looked like.
‘I’m fine,’ she blushed.
‘You’re still in shock, I suspect,’ said Santiago. ‘Do you remember what happened?’
‘Not really,’ said Penny, glad of a change of subject. ‘I remember not feeling well. I had this terrible headache and then I started to feel a bit dizzy and … that was it.’
‘From the top of the hill it almost looked like you’d fallen asleep at the wheel. Is that possible?’
‘No,’ Penny assured him.
‘Have you been drinking?’
‘No!’
Santiago raised a sceptical eyebrow.
‘I had one glass of wine,’ said Penny defensively. ‘I’d been for an early dinner in Lewes. With a friend,’ she added, unnecessarily.
‘If you say so,’ said Santiago. He sounded irritated suddenly. ‘I know your daughter is a big drinker, that’s all. I thought it might run in the family.’
‘What do you mean?’ said Penny. The reference to Emma had made her blood run cold.
‘Just that she polished off a bottle of Chablis at my place the other afternoon in less time than it took me to change my shirt.’
‘She’s far too young for you, you know,’ Penny blurted out.
‘You think so?’
‘I know so,’ Penny said crossly. ‘You’re nearly my age. Emma’s a child.’
‘I wouldn’t say that,’ said Santiago, keeping his eyes on the road.
‘That’s because you don’t know her,’ Penny said icily. ‘Please. Can’t you pick someone else’s heart to break? Emma’s incredibly fragile.’
I wouldn’t say that, either, thought Santiago. The Emma Harwich who’d barged into his house like a sex-crazed Sherman tank had been anything but fragile. On the other hand, there was a certain sadness about her, especially when she’d alluded briefly to her childhood.
‘Was she affected by your divorce?’ he asked Penny.
The question was so blunt, Penny bristled at first. ‘Aren’t all children?’
‘Probably, yes,’ said Santiago. ‘I know when my parents split up I thought the world had ended. I cried for months.’
Surprised by such an honest admission, Penny softened. ‘It was especially hard for Emma. She adored her father. Worshipped him, really. In many ways she still does. But Paul left us without a backward glance, without any real remorse. And you know, his coming out as gay was a huge shock to her, obviously. To all of us.’
‘You really had no idea?’ Santiago sounded disbelieving.
‘None,’ said Penny. ‘I know. Pathetic, isn’t it?’
‘Not at all. What’s pathetic is walking out on your family. Poor Emma. She needs a boyfriend who can restore her faith in men.’
Penny gave him a meaningful look. ‘Exactly.’
Her meaning couldn’t have been clearer: Not like you.
Santiago frowned, irritated, but said nothing. They relapsed into uncomfortable silence.
They arrived at the hospital. When Santiago helped Penny out of the car, her legs gave way completely. She collapsed into his arms so suddenly that he nearly dropped her.
‘Sorry,’ she said again. ‘I just … I feel so dizzy suddenly.’
A look of anxiety passed across his brooding features like a dark cloud.
‘Let’s get you to a doctor.’
The emergency room was busy, but when Santiago strode in, demanding attention for Penny, the crowds of patients parted like the Red Sea. There wasn’t a nurse on earth who didn’t want to help Sussex’s gorgeous star player. Penny found herself being examined within moments of arrival.
She described what had happened in the car, and again just now in the hospital car park: the headache, followed by the dizziness, nausea and sweating palms; the strange distortion of her vision.
‘We’ll do a CAT scan,’ said the young female doctor. ‘Make sure there’s no internal bleeding from the head trauma, and see what’s going on in there.’
Santiago looked nervous. ‘But you don’t think it’s anything serious?’
‘Not at all,’ the doctor said reassuringly.
‘What about the headache? And the dizziness? Those came on before the bump on her head.’
‘Probably just a migraine,’ said the doctor. Clearly she wasn’t a cricket fan. Turning smilingly to Penny, she added, ‘The husbands always worry more than we do, don’t they?’
‘Oh, he’s not my …’ Penny began. But the doctor had already wandered off to sign the paperwork, leaving her and Santiago alone.
‘I’ll wait while they do the scan,’ he said. ‘I don’t want you to worry.’
‘I’m not worried,’ said Penny. ‘And you don’t need to wait. You’ve been really kind but I’ll be fine on my own.’
‘Don’t be silly,’ Santiago snapped. ‘I said I’ll wait.’
Penny gave him a curious look. He knew he sounded angry. The truth was he was angry. But he didn’t for the life of him know why.
‘You’ll need someone to drive you home afterwards,’ he said, more gently.
‘I can call a taxi,’ said Penny. But one look at his face told her it was futile to protest. Besides which, she didn’t have the energy for an argument. ‘I meant what I said about my daughter, you know,’ she said. ‘If you really want to help, you’ll leave her alone.’
Santiago felt his irritation return. ‘I have left her alone,’ he snapped. ‘Emma was the one who knocked on my door, not the other way around.’
‘Yes, but you didn’t have to encourage her,’ said Penny reproachfully.
‘I didn’t encourage her!’
‘Oh, come on,’ said Penny. ‘I saw the smile on her face when she got home. You’re not seriously trying to tell me that nothing happened between the two of you?’
‘Would it matter if I were trying to tell you that?’
Penny shook her head. ‘You should be ashamed of yourself. You’re a grown man.’
‘And your daughter is a grown woman,’ said Santiago, finally losing his temper. He was tired of being falsely accused. ‘You can stick your head in the sand if you want to, but that’s the truth. Emma isn’t some innocent little girl, you know. Far from it. The more you try to control her, the more she’s going to pull away.’
‘Oh, really?’ Penny said indignantly. ‘So you’re doling out the parenting advice now, are you? Unbelievable! Tell me, is there any area of life where you don’t consider yourself an expert?’
Luckily the doctor returned before the conversation could degenerate further.
‘OK, Mrs Harwich. You can come through for your scan now,’ she said briskly. ‘Follow me.’
*****
It was ten o’clock and fully dark by the time Penny got home. Santiago dropped her off at the gate after an awkward, completely silent journey back to Fittlescombe. If he doesn’t make the England cricket squad, he could try out for the Olympic sulking team, thought Penny.
A furious Seb opened the door.
‘Where the hell have you been? I’ve been so worried. Why didn’t you answer your phone?’
Penny opened her
mouth to explain that her battery had died, but Seb hadn’t finished.
‘The police were here.’
‘The police? Why?’
‘PC Scott said they’d found your car abandoned in a ditch. Half the county’s out looking for you.’
‘Oh, God!’ Clasping her aching head, Penny pushed past him to the phone in the hallway. Five minutes later, having explained everything to the local constabulary, she sank down wearily on the sofa, too tired even to make herself a cup of tea. All the hospital tests had been clear. It was a chronic, fast-onset migraine, nothing more, and probably stress-related. The gash on her head had needed only a couple of stitches.
‘Sorry I yelled at you.’ Seb came and sat beside her. Having heard her chat with the police, he now knew the bare bones of what had happened. ‘I was really scared. I thought something awful had happened.’
Penny put a silent arm around her son’s shoulder and squeezed. Thank God for Seb. Not for the first time, she wondered where on earth she’d be without him.
It was at that moment that Emma came downstairs. In a pair of ancient, striped, flannel pyjamas, and with her hair tied up in a messy bun, she looked about twelve. Penny winced again at the thought of her and Santiago together. He could say what he liked, but Emma was a child, in all the ways that really mattered.
‘Oh. You’re back,’ said Emma, a pointed lack of concern in her voice. ‘Have you seen my GHD hair straighteners anywhere? They’ve gone awol.’
‘Mum’s been to hospital,’ Seb said angrily. ‘She hurt her head.’
‘Doesn’t look too serious,’ said Emma, giving a perfunctory glance to the dressing on Penny’s forehead.
‘How would you know?’ snarled Seb.
‘It isn’t serious,’ said Penny, praying that the children wouldn’t descend into a full-scale argument. She couldn’t have stood a shouting match right now. ‘I’m fine. Santiago de la Cruz kindly drove me home. Now all I need is some rest.’
At the mention of Santiago, Emma’s head jerked back as if she had whiplash.
‘Santiago was here?’
‘Very briefly. He dropped me at the gate,’ said Penny, explaining how Santiago had come across her by chance after the accident and played the Good Samaritan.
One Christmas Morning & One Summer's Afternoon Page 13
