by Shari Low
‘Let me get this…’ he said, his brow furrowed in concentration. ‘The cancer could come back. And if it does, I might be able to help you by giving you my…’ he stopped.
She helped him out. ‘Stem cells. If they’re a match.’ It was close enough. He didn’t need to have the medical terminology or the specifics down pat. The general gist would do.
Her top teeth dug deep into her bottom lip again, as she waited for him to finish processing that. He was taking too long. Fuck. Bugger.
‘I’m sorry,’ she blurted. ‘I know this is a shock and I hope you don’t hate me because I didn’t tell you this up front. If you think I got you here under false pretences, I totally understand and if you want to leave…’
‘Hope!’ His interruption was calm but firm. ‘Let me tell you this, I’m not leaving.’ He was leaning forward now. ‘It doesn’t matter what you need, or when you need it, I’ll be there and you can have everything I’ve got to give. I owe you twenty-three years of love and everything else that goes with it, so you can collect in any way, any time.’
He lifted her hand, kissed it, then put it back down on the table. It was such a pure, loving gesture.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
‘And we’ll find your mom too. We weren’t together for long, but I knew her heart and the kind of person she was, and I have to believe she’d do anything for you too.’
This was all too much. Hope wanted to flop on the table, the emotional turmoil giving way to exhaustion that was now seeping into her bones.
A thought. She’d cut him off before he told her how their relationship had ended.
‘You haven’t said what happened with you and my mother. Did she just come home from her holiday and you never heard from her again? You didn’t keep in contact?’
His sigh came from the soles of his leather boots. ‘It was a bit more complicated than that.’
4 p.m. – 6 p.m
17
Agnetha
‘Dad, what are you doing here? And where’s Cruella?’
‘Isla!’ Aggs chided her daughter.
Skye and Celeste had a good relationship and Aggs was glad about that because she didn’t want any discord in the girls’ lives. Unfortunately, Isla had never quite got the memo. ‘Materialistic, shallow tart,’ was Isla’s general opinion of her stepmother, but that was only expressed to Aggs, and only on the mutual agreement that her feelings were kept between them. Thus, Isla tolerated Celeste and was perfectly civil to her on a superficial level, but couldn’t resist the odd dig when she wasn’t around.
On any other day, Mitchell would throw back a disapproving rebuke, but, thankfully, today he just rolled his eyes and stood up to give his daughter a hug.
‘Good to see you too, darling. And Celeste had a meeting today so I’m flying solo.’
Aggs winced a little inside. Poor bugger. She knew she should feel smug about his predicament, but the truth was she didn’t have the energy for bad feelings. She’d made her peace with what happened years ago and there was no point going back to the darkness. Her shiny new life was going to be lived in the light.
She was mentally congratulating herself on her positivity when Skye wandered through from the kitchen too. ‘Dad!’ she echoed her sister, then, ‘See,’ she side-mouthed to Isla. ‘He can’t keep away from me. I’m definitely his favourite.’
Aggs tried to suppress a chortle. Mitchell was one of the top lawyers in the city, he was good looking, successful, wealthy, driven, a man of accomplishment and a pillar of the community… but his daughters definitely kept him humble and on his toes.
‘So what are you doing here then?’ Isla pressed.
Sympathy rising, Aggs decided to pitch in and help him out. ‘He just popped in to wish me a happy birthday. Is that okay with you two madams?
Mitchell threw her a grateful glance, then soon discovered he wasn’t out of the woods yet.
‘What, no flowers? No pressie? You didn’t even bring her a card?’ Isla demanded, her eyes darting across the table. ‘Oh, Dad,’ she said wearily. ‘No wonder you two are divorced.’
She was obviously teasing, but Aggs couldn’t deny there was an element of truth in there. Mitchell had never been the most romantic of men, but then, when they were together, they didn’t have time. They were too busy bringing up young kids, building businesses and taking care of her parents. After he left, it had been like a physical sting every time she heard through the shared-children grapevine that he’d made some grand gesture for Celeste. Not so much the flash car he bought her, or the honeymoon in St Lucia, but it was the flowers and the dinners and the way that he was so attentive to her, watched her when she entered a room, smiled when she paid attention to him.
A little bit like the way that Will looked at her now, she thought, a warm glow spreading through her. Two days in Paris. That was the ultimate romantic gesture. It gave her a thrill to think that this time tomorrow she’d be in France. It also gave her a slight panic, because she had to dig out her passport and pack, but she’d worry about that later.
Right now, she watched with amusement as Mitchell countered his daughter’s cheek with some of his own. ‘Thank you for the constructive feedback, darling. I’ll be in touch if I need any more advice from an expert.’
The three of them – Mitchell and his daughters – were laughing now and Aggs’ glow spread a little further. This was great to see. No matter what he’d done, he was a great dad, and he’d definitely done his best to be a good co-parent when they were growing up. Watching them all together now, she suddenly felt a massive pang of longing for her own father. It happened sometimes. Grief was a funny thing. Sometimes it came in waves, other times it came in stings that lasted a second but hurt deep. This was one of those moments and it sparked an irrepressible need to be somewhere else.
She glanced around. The café was quiet and Nasim and Sandra had it all under control. Skye would be hopeless, but Isla was still here. And, sod it, it was her birthday. If she wanted to have an hour or two to herself, she was absolutely entitled to do that. Hadn’t she resolved to start living on her own terms and put her own needs first? Well, right now she had a need and she was going to do something about it.
‘Listen, troops, I’m just nipping out for an hour.’
All three of them turned to stare at her as if she’d just announced she was going to get a Bakewell tart tattooed on her buttock.
Skye clearly wasn’t thrilled with this announcement. ‘You’re what? Where?’
‘I just want to go to the Botanic Gardens and say “hello” to your gran and grandad. I won’t be long.’
Going to the Botanic Gardens was something she’d done every year on her birthday since she was a kid, first with both her mum and dad, then, after her dad died, she’d just go with her mum. This year, her first without Mum, she’d thought she might give it a miss for fear of disintegrating into a blubbering wreck in the middle of a public place. Now she realised she wasn’t ready to change the tradition. Maybe she would never be ready.
Isla softened, as she always did at the mention of her grandparents and their special place. ‘Aw, that’s lovely, mum. Do you want me to come with you?’
The girls had lived with them and Aggs upstairs in this building for many years and they’d all adored each other. Mum and Dad had been the kind of grandparents every kid should have, the ones who picked them up from school, who took care of them when Aggs was working, who turned up at every show and sports event and sat there, proud as punch.
Aggs swallowed back the lump that was forming in her throat and told herself to breathe through it. She slapped on a smile. ‘Thank you, sweetheart, but I’m fine. You two stay here and take care of the café for me. Try not to kill each other, and if blood is spilt there’s bleach in the storeroom.’
‘Can I give you a lift? Save you walking?’ Mitchell asked, with a hint of urgency.
It was on the tip of her tongue to decline the offer, but she didn’t want to seem churlish
. Maybe he needed to talk some more? She felt bad ditching him, and besides, it was a twenty minute walk and if she hitched a ride, they’d be there in five. That would give her more time to get back and get a bit glammed up for dinner with the girls tonight.
‘Erm, sure. That would be great, thanks. Give me two minutes.’
She ignored the pointed look that passed between Skye and Isla. She had no idea what it was about and that was probably a good thing.
Upstairs, she threw on a fine-knit cream cardi over her T-shirt and swapped her sandals for comfier trainers.
When she returned to the café, Mitchell and the girls were deep in conversation, but they broke off as soon as they saw her, guilty faces all round.
‘What is going on with you lot?’ she asked with amused suspicion.
‘Nothing!’ Skye protested. ‘We’re, eh, just talking about my finals.’
Aggs didn’t believe a word of it, but she let it go. Whatever it was, if they wanted her to know, they’d tell her when they were ready.
‘Good to go?’ Mitchell asked.
‘Sure am.’
It felt weird sitting in the car with him, new and strange, but at the same time it was like a flashback to a thousand other journeys. The ride home from their wedding, bringing the babies home from hospital, going to buy the girls their first school shoes, a dozen times they’d loaded up the car and taken off to the seaside on a summer’s day…
‘Thanks, Aggs, for listening back there. I can’t tell you how grateful I am.’
‘You don’t need to,’ she said honestly. ‘I hope you sort it out. Ten years is a long time to throw away.’ She wondered if he realised that applied to their marriage too.
He turned to her with a sad smile that told her he did. ‘It is.’
Aggs shook off the inference, changed the subject, tried to get back on to more steady ground. ‘So how are Skye’s studies going?’ That spurred a discussion that got them the rest of the way and as they turned onto Queen Margaret Drive, Aggs was almost sorry it was such a short distance. ‘Just drop me anywhere,’ she offered. ‘I can jump out and let you get on.’
‘There’s a space,’ Mitchell nodded to a rare gap in the parked cars just a few metres further along. He nipped in, accomplishing the kind of manoeuvre that Aggs knew would have taken her three attempts and a shout to a bystander to guide her in.
She unclipped her seat belt. ‘Thanks, Mitch. Let me know how things go. I hope it works out for the best.’ She didn’t say what ‘the best’ was.
Just as she was about to put her hand on the door handle, he interrupted her.
‘Look, feel free to say no, but would you mind…’
Oh, God, what now? He’d better not ask her to talk to Celeste because that was a step wayyyyyy too far.
‘… er, if I came with you?’
First reaction, relief. Second, hesitation. She loved the peace of sitting on her mum and dad’s memorial bench in the gardens and chatting to them on her own. But as she looked through the railings, she saw the lawns were packed with people, so it wasn’t going to be a moment of serenity and reflection anyway. ‘Sure. If you feel like it.’
This was turning out to be the most unpredictable birthday ever.
The gardens were heaving with tourists and locals, hundreds of them lying on the grass, loads of the men adhering to the law in Glasgow that decrees that as soon as it’s over sixty degrees, you have to take your top off no matter your shape, size or whether you’re wearing suncream. Aggs could already see a few red shoulders that were going to be agony tonight. There were kids playing, people walking dogs, elderly couples strolling along the paths. It was the very best of the city – sunshine, happy faces, and a beautiful setting.
Her mum and dad had brought her here all the time, not just on birthdays, and she’d done the same with the girls. Later, she’d brought Mum in her wheelchair, and they’d sit and watch the world go by, both of them wrapped in their memories.
After Mum had died, she’d arranged the memorial bench here, in Mum’s favourite spot, and it was where Aggs would come when she needed to feel near to them, needed to talk to them and feel their presence. This was the first time she’d brought anyone but the girls.
As they got closer, she could see that a young guy and girl were already sitting on the bench, arms round each other, smooching like there was no one around to see them. Mum would be rolling her eyes right now, Aggs thought with a smile. Just as she was about to suggest turning back and leaving them to it, the couple got up and wandered off. Mum clearly deployed some divine intervention there.
Mitchell read the plaque on the back of the bench before he sat down.
In memory of Alex and Ella Sanders, Much loved, never forgotten, always with us.
Aggs nudged him. ‘Can you move along a bit there, because if my mum sends a bolt of lightning down in your direction, I don’t want to get the ends of my hair scorched.’ Ella had made no secret of her disgust with Mitchell when they split up. Other than when the girls were there and civility demanded it, her mum and dad never spoke to him again, refusing to grant him – or Celeste, for that matter – even a hint of forgiveness.
‘Your dad once threatened to break my kneecaps, you know.’
Aggs gasped, stunned. ‘He what? Nooooo! My dad didn’t have a violent bone in his body.’
Mitchell gave her a rueful shrug. ‘He did that day. I think it was the night after he found out about…’ He shivered, didn’t finish the sentence. ‘I don’t blame him. I’d have been the same if some guy did that to one of my girls.’
Aggs pulled her cardi round her, feeling a chill in spite of the warm day. ‘It was a long time ago, Mitch. Bygones,’ she said softly. ‘And it wasn’t all down to you. My choices were a factor too.’
‘What I did wasn’t your fault at all, Aggs,’ he argued.
‘I know that,’ she said. No victim blaming here. He was the one who broke their vows and their family and that was all on him. And Celeste, of course. But she had to acknowledge that her own actions played a part too. ‘I put you at the bottom of the pile. I was exhausted,’ Aggs said, truthfully. ‘Life was crushing me. I was too busy bringing up the girls, trying to look after Mum and Dad, and keep the café going too. You were working such long hours and I felt like I was doing it all on my own.’
Mitchell offered no argument. ‘You were.’
She pondered that some more. ‘I think it was the sleep deprivation that was the worst bit. I lived on four or five hours a night for so long that I stopped thinking, stopped feeling, just went into survival mode to get through the days and keep everything going. I wasn’t much of a wife.’
‘And I was a shit husband.’
‘You were,’ she said, nudging him playfully. ‘You were great at the start, it just all went a bit downhill after the first few years.’
‘I was exactly the same as you,’ he conceded. ‘Focused on other things. Trying to build the business. I got sucked into the other stuff too. Going out after work with clients, celebrating with the rest of the team when we won a case, commiserating when we lost, going to all those corporate functions. I became addicted to the challenge, to the money, to the need to make a success of it. Nothing else mattered. I think my ego was in charge for a long time.’
‘I don’t think it was just your ego that was running the show,’ she said archly. ‘Other parts of your anatomy were involved too.’
He had the grace to flush with mortification.
Aggs stared straight ahead, wondering if any of the other people enjoying the sunshine in the park were having the most brutally honest conversation they’d ever had, about one of the most traumatic events in their life?
Nothing that either of them said was contentious. They both remembered things the same way. Aggs felt another weight, one she hadn’t even known was there, lift from her shoulders and she realised that this was a conversation that they should probably have had before now. They needed full closure to find real peace. This exchan
ge was finally bringing resolution to an unfinished chapter. Releasing another tie to heartache and letting it drift off in the breeze. It was just a shame that it had taken Mitchell’s life running aground to get here.
On the bench there was silence, but in her head she could hear her mum harrumphing, tutting, muttering. ‘Ask him, Aggs. Ask the daft big bastard the question we always wanted the answer to. Go on.’
Aggs fought against it. She’d gone without knowing for ten years, so what purpose did it serve now to drag it all back up? Bygones, she’d said, and she meant it.
‘Agnetha Sanders, you ask him right now,’ her mum demanded.
Aggs sighed. Whether it was her mum or her subconscious, there was nothing to lose by putting the question out there.
‘If I ask you something, will you be completely honest?’
‘Of course,’ he said, like it was a ridiculous thing for her to say. Aggs chose not to point out that in their past, that wasn’t a foregone conclusion.
‘There’s something I’ve always wanted to know.’
‘What’s that?’
‘Go for it. Do it. Agnetha…’
Okay, Mum!
‘Who made the first move? You or Celeste?’
18
Mitchell
Mitchell didn’t answer immediately. The question had surprised him, and now he was waiting for the memories to untangle in his mind. Who made the first move? Maybe there wasn’t a clear-cut answer to that.
Of course, there had been no ignoring the fact that Celeste was stunning. When Aggs had first introduced them, a couple of months after they began dating, he’d had to react fast to cover his astonishment. If he hadn’t already known that Agnetha’s best friend was a model, he’d have guessed. Not only was she breathtakingly beautiful, but she carried herself with a cool, almost aloof detachment that he found both standoffish and intriguing at the same time. She also had a trail of boyfriends that she seemed to tire of quickly, claiming they all bored her to tears. Mitchell suspected that keeping a woman like Celeste happy would be a challenge too big for any one man.
