Suppose she went back to Hugo. There could never be another Nattie. Life without her would be unthinkable, unendurable, and not to have Lily and Thomas around to love and tease and entertain . . . Ahmed was confident he could open their young minds to so much. They were receptive, he could bring them on, stretch and encourage them. He was getting morbid. It wouldn’t do. But he loved the children, they mattered to him; he wanted them always in his life now.
He could pay for Hugo to come out to California to see them. Should he tell Nattie that? But it would be additional pressure and only draw attention to Hugo’s plight.
It was no good, and not in his nature, this defeatist thinking. He loved Nattie and he was right for her. However long it took, however many bumps and twists and disappointments, he had set his heart on marrying her and one day he was going to do so, come what may.
26
A Visit from Jake
Lily’s eyes were closing. Nattie kissed her cheek, whispered, ‘Sweet dreams,’ and tiptoed to the door. She was feeling every sort of emotion: welling love, naturally, and disbelief. It was a constant marvel to her that Ahmed had returned, that he was even alive – and to have been living with him now for almost six weeks seemed unreal. Guilt and anguish about Hugo never left her, but nothing could snuff out the conscious bliss of every hour of every day spent with Ahmed.
It was Saturday. Tom was coming round for supper – alone, since Imogen was on hospital duty – and a happy evening lay ahead with her stepbrother and the man she loved. The children seemed outwardly settled and fine. Lily adored Ahmed, no question. She hung on to his hand, hugged him at bedtime, kept him up to the mark with all her questions. And Thomas too, was pouring out new words at seventeen months, which Ahmed understood even if Nattie didn’t. His love of her children was genuine. He was hooked. It was difficult to know how much Lily missed her father. She was always more subdued after seeing him, but that was inevitable, wasn’t it?
Nattie knew she and Ahmed were living in a bubble, floating about like fairy people, she thought, as she went along the landing to her bedroom. The realities of life would soon call time. She was under no illusion; bubbles exploded with a silky pop and decisions had to be taken. She went into the bathroom and stared at herself in the mirror, worrying about tired lines on her face. Organising meals, running after toddlers, sorting children’s squabbles, was she ageing before her time? She combed her hair, washed in a rush that morning, no blow-drying, and stopped thinking wistfully about all the time her single friends could spend on themselves. She wouldn’t swap with them for the world. Ahmed had a knack of smoothing away tired lines.
She sprayed on a splash of scent, turned to go and hesitated; she had things on her mind, Hugo in her thoughts, and didn’t feel ready to go downstairs. It was his turn to have the children next weekend, from lunchtime on Friday too, since he was taking them to stay with his parents. For once Nattie didn’t mind. Hugo’s parents were a comforting safety net and she could ease up – unlike that first terrifying time she’d left the children in his charge.
Her father, Barney, was an alcoholic. Nattie had memories of some violent, frightening scenes, and they’d been in the forefront of her mind when she’d seen the state Hugo was in, arriving at the house for the handover that first morning. She’d been shocked. Hugo had been hardly able to see or speak, let alone look after two small vulnerable children, and she’d almost felt desperate enough to keep them with her, whatever ructions it would cause.
She had phoned Jasmine, begged her to go early in the afternoon and call when she left. Jasmine had clearly been shaken, but after much discussion and cluck-clucking – whether at Nattie for leaving or disapproval of Hugo was hard to say – she’d managed to get across that Hugo was just about surviving and unlikely to drop Tubsy on his head or put whisky in Lily’s apple juice.
He’d looked slightly revived next day as well, when she’d collected the children from her mother’s. He’d been quite friendly on the doorstep, but then Victoria had been beside him and Nattie had seen beyond the chat, seen the pain and agitation in his eyes. He’d stared at her like a doomed, desperate prisoner-of-war, begging for reprieve. She sensed he’d actually wanted her to see him that way.
It had got better, she told herself. He’d been more in control on later weekends, hadn’t seemed quite as abjectly desolate. She imagined – he was certainly showing every sign of it – that extreme jealous hatred for Ahmed had clicked in, which made her sad and distressed. Still that same plaintive wretchedness reflected in his eyes, though, still his trembling hands, the palpable tension whenever she stood near. The tension cut two ways.
Time to go downstairs; she could hear Ahmed busy in the kitchen. He was no cook and she reckoned that the aroma of sautéing onions flooding the house was a cunning ruse to get her to hurry on down and take over. She smiled and went down feeling slightly guilty.
‘I’ve been slaving over a hot stove down here like one of your actual house-husbands,’ Ahmed complained. ‘Not that I don’t enjoy the role, just setting the parameters.’
‘That’s an induction stove, not hot at all. Okay, what are we doing for Tom, what am I taking over?’
‘I wondered about a Spanish omelette? I found some cooked potatoes in the fridge. Or whatever you fancy making with the onions.’
‘There are some steaks in the freezer. I’ll sauté the potatoes and make some ratatouille – your onions won’t go to waste.’
She assembled the cooked potatoes on a chopping board and Ahmed reached round her for the knife, keeping her trapped in his arms while he chopped. She put her hand over his and stopped him. ‘You’ll do us both an injury. How about laying the table?’
Tom arrived. He tucked into his steak and spent all evening quizzing Ahmed about the putting together of a television series. He seemed fascinated. ‘So what happens? I mean, you’re here, battling away at future scripts, but surely, if there’s filming going on, you’re needed there. Don’t scripts need constant tweaking? Don’t storylines evolve?’
‘Sure they do,’ Ahmed said. ‘I’m pushing my luck, being here, just about getting away with it, but only because it was all my original idea. There’s a writing room out there, with ten bright brains beavering away on the scripts, and I should be in with them. I’ll have to show my face sooner or later, but for the moment the moneybags bosses are humouring me. They’re keen to keep me sweet.’
Nattie didn’t pay much attention; she knew the scene and had private worries. She absorbed Tom’s fleeting looks of soulfulness, her intimacy with Ahmed putting Maudie in his thoughts, and she longed for Hugo to be as accepting and resigned. He was far from that, agonised, raw and bleeding.
Tom didn’t stay late. Ahmed had been slipping looks that weren’t difficult to read.
‘You made that a bit obvious,’ she remonstrated as Tom left. ‘You could have tried harder.’
Ahmed grinned and gave her a kiss. ‘I booked our weekend away while you were upstairs. I was saving up telling you – and impatient for a kiss or two.’
‘So where are we going? Tell me.’
‘Sidmouth. The Victoria Hotel there looks a splendidly stiff-backed sort of place, very jacket-and-tie, more for golfers and colonels than Islamist extremists, and a safe bet, I’d say. I feel dreadfully irresponsible putting you at risk, but it would be good to get away.’
‘It’s your safety that keeps me awake at night,’ Nattie said. ‘It’ll be fine. And what could be better? Walks on a windy rainy beach in November and you!’
She wanted to get away for a number of reasons, not least the stress factor of Lily’s party the following weekend. It made geographical sense to have it in the Queen’s Park house, as most of Lily’s little schoolfriends lived nearby, but that meant being with Hugo all day. Blowing up balloons, filling goodie bags, sandwich-making, carrot sticks, laying out tea, wrapping prizes. She and Hugo would be meeting and greeting, standing side by side, chatting to the parents for all the world like a happy cohab
iting couple. Something was bound to go wrong.
Ahmed made more coffee and put on a CD. He loved cool jazz, Miles Davis, and they settled in, Nattie with her legs up over his on the kitchen sofa. ‘Nobody at the office knows I’ve moved,’ she said, worrying about the secrecy. ‘I picked up some mail from the house last week. It’s just as well I don’t get much, I’m sure Hugo would never send any on.’
‘Isn’t it all circulars? Any office stuff would be on email, surely? I shouldn’t give it a thought.’
She did, though. Friends emailed and texted, she had taken Tubsy to tea with those who had babies, but hadn’t asked them back, just come up with excuses about work. She hadn’t even told Maudie that she was on a trial separation. Oldest friend or not, Maudie couldn’t be trusted not to talk. She’d ask way too many questions and want to come round to see Ahmed. No one knew, except Tom, her mother and William, Jasmine and Mrs Cruikshank too, and Hugo of course.
Nattie reached across the table for Ahmed’s plate and caught his eye. ‘Any news on when Jake might want his house back?’
‘He’s just emailed, funnily enough. He’s coming over, flying in Tuesday, so we’ll hear all the low-down – though he says things are going great so I don’t think he’s about to come back. Can we give him supper? Wednesday perhaps, he’s only here the inside of a week.’
‘I’ll feel quite awkward, treating him like a guest in his own house. Do we have to take down the blinds and rehang Sylvia’s curtains? And there’s all the toys.’
She looked round the kitchen; the cutlery drawer was hanging open, piles of her work novels sharing the table, one splayed open on top of the fruit in the bowl. They both had iPads charging. Lily’s artwork was pinned with a donkey magnet to the enormous silver fridge; there were other magnets too, a cardboard Michelangelo who had a variety of clothes to cover his manhood. They’d dressed him in check shorts and a black leather jacket that day.
‘I’ve shared a flat with Jake, remember,’ Ahmed said. ‘He knows what to expect.’
Nattie biked to work on the Wednesday when Jake was coming to supper. She enjoyed the ride and they’d had a spell of bright weather, crisp and cold. She should have used the journey to plan that night’s meal, only Hugo, or rather Amber, was on her mind.
‘Has Daddy got a girlfriend?’ Lily had asked, after a weekend with her father.
She’d talked very early on about ‘a lady’ coming round. Nattie could remember all her chatter exactly. ‘We were nearly going to Granny and Gramps and Daddy told the lady that, but she came in for a cup of tea.’ It had to be Amber, she was thick-skinned enough to turn up unannounced – and not Lily’s favourite person if body language was any guide.
Ahmed was encouraged by the intelligence, but Nattie knew that Amber wasn’t the answer to their prayers. Not after Hugo’s confession about Istanbul, his desperate drinking and recent bitter harshness, which had to be an explosion of extreme jealousy. Lily would have talked plenty about Ahmed, she was so full of him, and Tubsy too, with his ‘Dan, Dan’s’ and all the new words. Hugo would be full of loathing.
Amber was good for a leg-over, probably helping him get by at work, with his drinking, protecting him from Brady. She was a top-flight PR executive, after all, and not unattractive.
Nattie parked her bike and went up to the office, dangling her helmet on her arm and pulling off her woolly gloves. ‘You’re looking a very happy bunny these days,’ Ian said, as she reached her desk, ‘sunlight shining out of your eyes. All your troubles behind you now?’ He was so inquisitive and snoopy.
Nattie grinned. ‘Must be my rosy cheeks with all this fresh air. I’ve taken to biking here.’
‘What? Not all the way from Queen’s Park? I call that keen.’
‘Oh, it’s not that bad.’ She kicked herself for the stupid slip and moved on fast. ‘I’m after a quick bit of cooking help, Ian. An old mate is over from Oz. He lives in Melbourne, which is very trendy and foody, I’m told, and we’ve got that late meeting today. What can I give him for supper that’s classy and quick?’
Ian gave her a mildly suspicious look. ‘I’d do a beef stir-fry with mushrooms and greens. Slosh in my favourite sauce – just a mix of oyster and soy sauce, two to one ratio – and some grated ginger, easy! Stir that in and you’re done.’
It sounded perfect; Ian knew his stuff. Nattie was thanking him when her desk phone rang. She picked up the receiver grimacing, glad of an excuse to sign off.
It was Sadia. ‘I’m back in England now,’ she said, ‘and just wanted to thank you for all your wonderful support. You kept me strong, I’d have lost my nerve without you.’
‘What news? What happened?’ Nattie felt embarrassed even to ask when it had been such an impossible mission. She dreaded hearing the worst and found herself holding her breath.
‘We did it!’ Sadia said shyly, but with an overlay of elation that she couldn’t hold in. ‘Alesha is here with me now and it feels like we’re in one of those romance novels with a happily-ever-after ending. We’d love to see you and thank you in person if you can spare the time. We owe you so much.’
‘Of course you don’t, and of course I can spare the time. I’m longing to meet your sister and hear all about it. I expect you’re in a whirlwind of literary events now you’re back and I’m only in the office two days, but let’s find a date. How’s Tuesday week looking?’
They fixed to meet at a coffee bar near the office.
Nattie sat back, feeling stunned. However had they pulled it off? She remembered her interview with Sadia, the lunch they’d had in Bella Cucina, not least because it had been on the very day she’d found Ahmed’s message in Drafts, over two months ago now. She’d blurted out an awkward mention of him at lunch that day and now, with Sadia’s extraordinary coup, it was hard not to feel a sort of bond and superstitious connection. Would things go as well for her too?
Nattie had an extended afternoon meeting and by the time she biked home, Jake had already arrived. He was making Lily and Thomas’s acquaintance. A lot of raucous giggling was going on.
Jake got up from his haunches and gave her an enveloping hug. ‘Get you,’ he said, standing back. ‘Whatever you have to put up with from Ahmed, it suits you. I really hated leaving for Australia without having said goodbye, but you were with Hugo – you know how it is.’
She did. She smiled back at him, gazed happily up at his long lean face, blushing with pleasure. He was tall, lanky, had a good couple of inches on Ahmed. He had a generous mouth, crooked teeth – he’d missed out on an orthodontist, but they were part of the charm. Jake had the softest grey eyes Nattie had ever seen, the colour of a baby rabbit’s down, the kindest, most expressive look in them too.
‘There’s so much I want to ask,’ she said, ‘but I must first get these two to bed. Have you seen loads of kangaroos?’
‘You’ve seen a real, living kangaroo?’ Lily was pink with excitement.
‘Lots,’ Jake said. ‘They lollop across the country roads in Australia. There are road signs saying watch out for crossing kangaroos.’
‘Can we go there, Mummy? I’d reely, reely love to see one crossing the road!’
‘Australia is a very long way away and it’s bath time. We’ll have a kangaroo story in bed.’
Over the meal – Nattie took the credit for Ian’s stir-fry – Jake got started on Australia. ‘You have to come out. Melbourne’s a buzzy place, with great food, packed restaurants.’
Ahmed grinned. ‘It’s California before Australia for us, I’m afraid. We’re taking it one step at a time.’ Nattie flashed him a look of if only.
The clock ticked on. They rehashed old stories and memories till the candles burned down.
Jake had little to say about Sylvia. She still wasn’t pregnant. She clung to her mother in Melbourne and wanted to stay there. ‘I’m seeing out the year,’ Jake said. ‘It’s all great experience, so feel free to stay on here – the house is yours for another nine months.’ He sighed. ‘Australia’s a terrif
ic place, but my future’s here in England. It’s where I belong. Sylvia and I have a conundrum to resolve.’
It was good news about the house, but it hardly solved their long-term problems. Jake’s were compounded by a floundering relationship, and could Ahmed keep working from afar, even going to and from California? Was he safe? The authorities wouldn’t approve of his returning to England. Everything felt balanced on a knife-edge.
Jake had refused their repeated offers of a bed. He’d come over mainly to see his parents and was staying with them. Nattie hid her relief. Jake in the top-floor room that Ahmed was notionally using for appearances’ sake would have been complicating.
‘I should be going,’ Jake said, rising, pressing on the table with his hands.
Nattie and Ahmed stood up too. ‘I wish you didn’t have to,’ Nattie said.
He turned his grey eyes on her. ‘I do too, believe me. But—’ He broke off, starting a bit with the intrusive sound of Ahmed’s mobile. It had very insistent chimes.
‘Hank, Hollywood boss,’ Ahmed mouthed, and took himself off to deal with the call.
Jake smiled at Nattie, holding out his arms. ‘Goodbye hug?’
‘I’m feeling quite emotional,’ she said, as he enveloped her. ‘I’m sad your visit’s so short.’
‘I’ll be back,’ he said, separating and holding on to her hands. ‘Can’t stay away for long.’ He stared at her steadily and the expression in his eyes was hard to read.
‘What is it?’ She felt apprehensive, slight collywobbles.
‘I worry about you, Nattie, love. It’s a huge decision, cutting ties, all the responsibility you’d have to face. Think very carefully, won’t you? Don’t be too hasty.’ He gave her another quick hug and stepped back, looking slightly abashed. ‘I know you won’t, though. I’m truly not coming on heavy, don’t think that. It’s just . . . a need to share the load, I guess.’
She blinked hard, feeling shaken and confused, a little put-upon too, which she knew was unreasonable. She looked down, suddenly brought close to tears, seeing Jake’s gentle look of concern.
The Consequence of Love Page 25
