by Susan Lewis
All these thoughts, and so many more, were whirling through his mind as he left his car in the long-term car park at Heathrow airport to make his way to the Crew Report Centre in Terminal 5. It seemed that no sooner had his decisions formed than a rush of doubt would send him spinning again, and by the time a new way forward started to show itself, the cracks in his conscience were opening up to destroy that too. He felt sure that if he weren’t flying to Cape Town today his confusion wouldn’t be fraught with such immediacy, as though a decision had to be made now and adhered to, or he’d end up … End up what? He couldn’t say with any kind of clarity, it was simply a pervading sense of having to do something soon before it was too late for them all.
This was definitely not rating as the most successful honeymoon of all time. In fact, it was so far from achieving such a lofty status that it might be coming close to ranking as the worst. Almost nothing had seemed to go right from the minute they’d turned off the M6 on day one, when David had lost his temper because he couldn’t remember where they were going. How could he not remember where they were going on their honeymoon?
‘But you must have a record of it somewhere,’ Lisa had protested, irritable enough already thanks to the rain, which had started around Birmingham and hadn’t stopped since. And if it turned out they didn’t have somewhere to stay for the night, she was going to be royally pissed off.
‘If I did then we’d know where we were headed, wouldn’t we?’ he snapped back. ‘I must have left it in my briefcase.’
‘So what are we going to do?’
‘I don’t know.’
Biting back a choice retort, she turned to stare out of the window as they continued in the direction of Windermere.
‘Are you sure that’s where you booked a hotel?’ she asked after a while. ‘There are a lot of lakes …’
‘I’m aware of that, thank you very much.’
‘Don’t speak to me like that. It’s not my fault you’ve screwed up.’
‘So you think it’s mine?’
‘You were the one in charge of …’
‘All right, all right, I’ve screwed up. Having my face rubbed in it isn’t helpful.’
In the end he’d called the local MP, who had apparently recommended the hotel. The Miller Howe turned out to be exactly what she’d asked for – a small and romantic hotel at the edge of Lake Windermere with no fuss and frills, just an intimate atmosphere and an excellent restaurant.
As soon as they were alone in their room he’d apologised for his outburst, and accepting that they were both tired after the long journey and huge adrenalin rush of the wedding, she’d readily forgiven him. However, they hadn’t made love that night, a disappointment she’d put down to tiredness again, but the following night there had been no kind of intimacy either. By the third night she was no longer in the mood anyway. The dismal weather was getting her down, and sightseeing in driving rain was no more her idea of fun than being stuck in endless traffic jams, or jostling with a bunch of fat, anorak-clad tourists to get off a cruise boat. The way they trod on her toes and elbowed her out of the way, anyone would think they were trying to chuck themselves off the Titanic.
In truth, she could probably have stood it all, possibly even laughed it off, had David not been so short-tempered and, it had to be said, maddening. It turned out it wasn’t only the name of the hotel he’d forgotten, he’d left his phone charger at home so they’d had to go out and buy another; and for some unknown reason he’d padlocked his holdall and no longer had the key, meaning they’d had to rip it open with a penknife. There was still, in her opinion, a chance all could have been rescued with humour, but he’d flown off the handle at both mishaps, and had then promptly decided to punish himself – because that was how it seemed – by refusing to speak for almost a day. Or maybe he’d been trying to punish her, it was hard to tell when he was being so uncommunicative and childish, and it had really started to get on her nerves.
‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry,’ he said when she demanded an explanation. ‘It’s not you, it’s me. I don’t know where my head is these days, and I should have insisted we go somewhere hot for our honeymoon, because this wind and rain in the middle of November …’
‘August.’
He chewed air. ‘August,’ he repeated, ‘is … Well, it’s not what you’d expect.’
A banal tailing-off like that wasn’t what she’d expect from him either, and to her mind the weather seemed a pretty lame excuse for so much impatience and intolerance, but since she’d already guessed that Rosalind and her pathetic suicide threat was behind it all, she’d done her best to go along with his charade.
This morning, however, she’d come close to the end of her tether when, on the first fine day they’d had so far, she’d managed to trip on the front step as they left the hotel, possibly spraining her ankle, and now here she was, fed up, in pain and marooned on the balcony of their room with her foot propped up on a facing chair while she waited for Amy to come back on the line.
It was the middle of the afternoon, and though no rain had doused the lake yet today, the bulbous clouds forming overhead were clearly threatening a magnificent performance. She just hoped David managed to get back from his walk before the storm broke, because the last thing they wanted was both of them laid up on their honeymoon – at least not with a mildly sprained ankle and man flu.
Sipping from a glass of lemonade as she continued to wait, she tried entertaining herself with another soaking-up of the stunning vista, and being so spectacular it was really quite uplifting. With the lake stretched out before her like something from Avalon, winking and shimmering in the misty sunlight, and the trees roaming and foaming down to the water’s edge, it was no wonder so many poets had chosen to live here. Her eyes moved over to the far shores, where cloud shadows were gliding over the mountains like giant birds and glistening bands of sunlight were bathing them in a vaporous glow. Amongst their rise and fall were two craggy peaks known as the Lancaster Pikes. According to her guidebook, when you could see them it was about to rain, and if they weren’t visible it was already raining. She’d enjoyed what she’d assumed was typical northern irony, until David had asked her to repeat the folklore no less than three times this morning, at which point she’d started to wish she’d never mentioned it.
‘Are you just not listening, or are you trying to wind me up?’ she’d demanded, managing to throw the book down instead of at him.
He’d frowned as he looked at her. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. Then, sighing heavily, ‘It’s amusing, of course, but I … Well, I had a call earlier from Rosalind. She sounded quite low.’
Failing to hide her exasperation, she said, ‘Has she forgotten you’re on your honeymoon? Oh, no, that’s right! She’s in her own little world where nothing matters but her, and we haven’t happened.’
‘Actually,’ he said, looking away, ‘I think she’s rather lonely at the moment. Jerry’s not due back till the weekend, and Dee’s at her apartment in Spain with Wills and Daisy.’
‘So why doesn’t she call one of her friends? She must have them, she’s lived there all her life.’
‘Of course she does, but sometimes …’ He shook his head, indicating that it was probably best they didn’t discuss it any more, but Lisa was able to guess what he’d been about to say, that sometimes only family would do. And it wasn’t that she begrudged Rosalind’s call on her father, or at least she was trying not to and starting to fail miserably, she’d just rather it wasn’t happening during what was already proving a very sorry excuse for a honeymoon.
Hearing Amy click back on to the line, she said, ‘And about time, I thought you’d forgotten me.’
‘As if. So, where were we?’
‘I’ve completely forgotten, but something I keep meaning to ask you is if anyone’s still staying at the house.’
‘You mean your house? Of course you do. Sheelagh and Baz left this morning, so the place is now officially guest-free and the cleaners are blitzing i
t tomorrow. Theo and I are going over most evenings to make sure everything’s watered and taken care of, or that’s our excuse, because the landscapers are clearly in charge of all that, but we’re doing a stellar job of testing the pool to make sure it’s up to the right temperature and I have to tell you, it’s a hard slog having to do all that swimming.’
Laughing, Lisa said, ‘We haven’t even had a chance to use it ourselves yet, which is making me wonder why the heck we’re here, but don’t let’s get started on that.’
‘I take it the weather’s still bad.’
‘Actually, it’s better today, if you can call a few escaped sunrays and one degree rise in temperature better, but I suppose we should feel lucky it was so gorgeous for the wedding. It’s getting us both down, though. I’ve never known David this tetchy. I’ve even started to wonder if we shouldn’t just give up and come home.’
‘Seriously?’
She sighed heavily. ‘No, I suppose not. It would be a bit defeatist to write off the entire two weeks when we haven’t even been over to Ullswater yet – and I think the forecast is quite good for when we’re there.’
‘You’re not sounding very enthusiastic.’
She sighed again. ‘Frankly, it’s hard to get worked up about anything while I’m stuck here with a great big fat ankle and feeling ready to wring Rosalind’s neck for the way she’s getting to her father. Or maybe it’s his neck I should wring for allowing it. You probably won’t be surprised to hear that there’s been no more mention of that awful text she sent. It amazes me the way he can put these things out of his mind, as if they’ve never happened.’
‘It’s probably best that you do too.’
‘Maybe. In fact, what else can we do? And I suppose I have to take some of the blame for things not going well, because I’m the one who chose to stay in England for our honeymoon. What the hell got into me, I want to know? Why did I imagine it would be fun to be here when I know what the weather’s like? At least if I’d bust my ankle in Lampedusa, which was where I really wanted to go, I’d be getting a tan and cocktails on tap as it healed.’
‘If that’s where you wanted to go, why didn’t you say so? You know he’d have taken you.’
‘Why do you think? Tony flew me there for my thirty-fifth birthday, and it was hardly going to seem right taking David somewhere I’d already been with another man. I know I wouldn’t like it if he’d chosen somewhere that had been special to him and Catrina – except I’m going to be living in the very valley they called home for the last thirty years, and having a very intense non-relationship with their daughter. Can you remind me how I ended up agreeing to that?’
‘You fell in love with the house, and the man, and it’s in his constituency.’
‘Oh yes, and it’s close to you, which frankly sealed it. Actually, I never thought I would say this on my honeymoon, but I wish you were here now to keep me company, because I’m starting to get the feeling my new husband is doing his best to avoid me.’
With one of her sisterly groans, Amy said, ‘You’re so prone to exaggeration. He’ll be back soon.’
Lisa glanced at her watch. ‘Well, let’s hope so. He left over two hours ago, and surely even Rosalind can’t keep him on the phone for that long, because I know that’s what’s really going on. I should probably give him a call, just to remind him I’m still here, because the way he’s been carrying on lately there’s a good chance he’s forgotten.’
Amy chuckled. ‘OK. So, if I don’t talk to you before, I’ll see you when you get back. Actually, I have some news, but it can wait till then.’
An hour later Lisa was sitting on the bed, wondering who to call next, because David still wasn’t back and his phone was right here in the room. She’d only realised that when she’d tried his number and heard it ringing on the chest of drawers next to the TV. Now she was stuck here, unable to go and look for him thanks to her foot, and the storm outside was already sluicing the landscape with such fierce needles of rain that it had to be painful to be out in it.
Deciding he must be taking shelter somewhere until the worst of the weather had passed, she picked up a book to carry on reading, but her concentration was so poor that she soon put it down again. Why hadn’t he taken his phone, she wanted to know. It didn’t make any sense, when the whole purpose of him going out was to call Rosalind, or so she’d thought. Even more baffling was why he hadn’t rung. It couldn’t be that difficult to find a phone, there were sure to be boxes in Windermere and Bowness, or in one of the water-sport kiosks along the lake.
Her irritability was growing by the minute, along with the throbbing in her ankle, and because she was starting to become nervous about another explosion of temper when he got back, as though whatever was keeping him would somehow end up being her fault, she found herself wondering if this was the life she really wanted to lead. Was it always going to be like this, him running off to deal with Rosalind every time she threw the least little tantrum, constantly putting her first no matter what other commitments he might have? Maybe she’d made a mistake in marrying him – or at least she shouldn’t have let him rush her into it. As it was, she’d been so caught up in the excitement of the wedding for the past few months that she hadn’t allowed herself to believe anything could go wrong, while Rosalind had apparently been making sure it would.
Except he wasn’t talking to Rosalind now, because his phone was here, and over three hours had passed since he went out, which was two more than he’d said he’d be, so what the heck had happened to him?
‘What if he’s had another of those aberrations?’ she said, her voice not quite steady when she rang Amy again. ‘Maybe I should start calling the local hospitals.’
‘Actually, why don’t you speak to someone at the hotel first, see what they advise?’
‘Of course. Good idea. I’ll call back as soon as there’s some news.’
After being put through to the manager, who assured her he’d come up to her room straight away, she limped over to the window to stare out at the mist. The landscape had vanished now; everything was shrouded in an impenetrable mass of cloud, as though to remind her of how hostile this territory could be when it chose. ‘Where are you?’ she murmured, using anger to try and smother her fear. ‘Why don’t you find a phone and ring?’
Hearing a rap on the door, she called out that she was coming and hobbled as fast as she could across the room. The manager, looking worryingly young, introduced himself as Phillip, and the girl who was with him as Gemma.
‘I’m sure it’s nothing to be alarmed about,’ Lisa told them, as though to forestall any premonitions of doom, ‘but there was an incident a few weeks ago …’
‘Let’s start at the beginning,’ the manager said kindly. ‘What time did he leave? Where did he say he was going? And what did he take with him?’
Doing her best to answer the questions, Lisa watched Gemma jot her answers on to a notepad, while Phillip took out his mobile as it started to ring.
‘I see,’ he said, his eyes coming to Lisa. ‘Thank you. I’ll let her know,’ and ringing off he said, ‘Apparently your husband’s on his way up.’
Relief unravelled her so fast that she started to laugh. ‘Thank goodness,’ she gasped. ‘Is he all right? I’m so sorry to have bothered you. I overreacted. I’m afraid it’s not unusual for me …’
‘Please don’t apologise,’ he interrupted. ‘You were right to call us. It’s what we’re here for, to help in any way we can.’
Before Lisa could answer Gemma was opening the door, and the next instant David came dripping into the room. Had she really forgotten how handsome he was, even when looking as drowned as the proverbial rat?
‘Darling, I’m sorry,’ he said, scraping his fingers through his hair. ‘What a fool …’
‘We’ll leave you to it,’ the manager said. ‘If there’s anything you need, just give us a shout.’
The instant Phillip and Gemma had gone Lisa said, ‘We have to get you out of those clothes and
into a hot bath. Look at you, you’re soaked to the skin.’
‘And don’t I know it,’ he groaned, starting to peel off his shirt. ‘What a bloody nightmare.’
‘Where did you go? What happened? I was so worried, and why didn’t you take your phone?’
‘I thought I had it, but it turns out I picked up the camera instead.’
Having done the same herself in the past, she gave him a kiss and hobbled off towards the bathroom to start running a bath. As soon as it was under way, she scooped up a couple of towels and took them back into the room. She found him naked with his wet clothes creating a puddle on the floor and his shoes, caked in grass and mud, dangling from his hands as he carried them out to the balcony.
‘So what happened to you?’ she asked, as he closed the door. ‘Where did you go?’
A shadow of annoyance crossed his brow. ‘If I knew that I wouldn’t have got lost, would I?’ he retorted.
Though she bristled at his tone, being unwilling for this to develop into yet another row, she sat him down on the bed and started to towel his hair. ‘I was really worried,’ she told him. ‘I was afraid you’d had another of those blackouts …’
‘Ow! You’re rubbing too hard,’ he snapped.
‘Sorry. Here, you do it. I’ll go and check the bath.’
A moment or two later he came into the bathroom behind her and turned her to face him. ‘I’m sorry if I scared you,’ he said, managing to look both contrite and guilty.
Relieved to have him sounding more like himself, she said, ‘It’s OK, as long as you’re all right.’
‘As you can see,’ he said.
She managed a smile. ‘From now on you can consider yourself banned from going anywhere without me.’
Gazing at her tenderly, he said, ‘Are you happy to be here?’
