The Runaway Year

by Shani Struthers

  Probably, she thought miserably. Probably.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  THE TRECASTLE INN WAS HEAVING. Layla had never seen it so packed. Nonetheless, she and Penny managed to push their way through copious crowds to the bar, the music from the jukebox completely drowned out by the cacophonous sound of chatter and laughter. All the while, Layla searched for Joseph, but he was nowhere to be seen. It would be impossible to talk to him in this environment anyway. She’d spend her whole time shouting at him, something she hoped to avoid doing this time.

  “Layla!” Mick said, coming up behind her and spinning her round. “Glad you could make it.”

  “Hey, Mick, happy birthday,” she yelled back, hugging him tight.

  “And, Penny,” he continued. “You look stunning. A bit like that actress, what’s her name…?”

  “Yeah, yeah, Scarlett Johansson,” said Penny, obviously sick and tired of the comparison.

  “Anyway, glad you could make it. Jim and his band will be on soon. They’re just in the back warming up.”

  “Where’s Hannah?” shouted Layla.

  “She’s around somewhere. Oh, look, it’s Kevin—hey, Kevin!—I’ve got to go. Catch you later,” he said before ambling off.

  Layla retrieved her purse from her back pocket and dug out a ten pound note. Noticing Penny looking around in keen anticipation, she asked, “What’s the matter?”

  “Oh, nothing,” replied Penny airily. “Just wondering where Joe is.”

  Amazed at how downright obvious Penny could be sometimes, Layla turned back to the bar, waving her ten pound note at Tom.

  Whilst he fetched their drinks, Layla scanned the room again as furtively as she could. She was getting impatient, however, and feared she looked just as obvious as Penny in trying to locate her quarry. Tom was just handing her back her change when the crowd at the other end of the bar parted. Through the gap, she spotted him. In a white linen shirt and black jeans, talking to, of all people, Clare.

  “You okay?” Penny asked. “You’ve gone all funny.”

  “I’m fine, fine.” Layla turned round to face Penny, hoping to effectively block her view. Far from feeling fine, she felt incredibly faint, overwhelmed by what she had just seen as well as the noise and the heat that so many bodies in close proximity could produce.

  What was he doing talking to Clare? Had they made up, got back together again? They certainly looked cozy, Clare staring adoringly into his blue eyes, him laughing at whatever gem happened to be falling out of her mouth.

  Where was Hannah? Layla had to find her; maybe Hannah could enlighten her as to what was going on.

  Leaving their drinks behind, she said, “Come on, Penny. Follow me.”

  Layla threw herself back into the crowd. She saw Hannah standing to the left of the entrance, talking to Hilda from May’s.

  “Hey, Hannah, over here,” said Layla, waving frantically.

  Hannah looked as if she’d been rescued from the jaws of death. She made her excuses and hurried over. “Oh, thank God. I love Hilda to death, but all she talks about is her husband’s lumbago. I feel like I’ve had a medical lesson, which is all very well, but in the middle of a party?”

  “Never mind that,” said Layla, trying to be as discreet as possible. “At the bar. Joseph. He’s talking to Clare.”

  “Who’s Clare?” shouted Penny before her attention was captured by Jim, Curtis, and Ryan, shuffling onto a makeshift stage.

  A raucous cheer accompanied their arrival, and everybody clapped. Then there was silence, almost as deafening as the noise had been, everyone waiting eagerly for the band to start.

  “He’s really cute, your Jim,” Penny had time to whisper to Hannah before the first strum of guitar, followed swiftly by the beating of drums, and then finally, Jim’s low and gravelly voice.

  Everyone was enraptured, everyone except Layla. All she could think about was Clare and Joseph. As the band continued to play, she couldn’t resist looking behind her, her eyes desperately seeking him out. And there he stood, a few rows back, side by side with Clare, looking straight back at her. There was no steel in his eyes this time as he held her gaze, just sadness. If Hannah was right, she had caused that sadness. If it were true, it counted as the single worst thing she had ever done, to hurt someone like that. Desperately she wanted to leave the crowd behind, to drag him somewhere quiet—to talk to him, touch him, kiss him. To atone somehow for what she had done.

  Another cheer went up, and he looked away, clapping like everybody else around him. She clapped too, but inside she felt as though she were dying, one cell at a time. What she wanted she clearly couldn’t have.

  After a couple more songs including a rendition of The Waterboys’ “Fisherman’s Blues,” a personal favorite of Mick’s, Jim stopped singing and spoke into the microphone instead. “This one you haven’t heard before. It’s a new song I’ve been working on for some time now, trying to get it just right. It’s called ‘Angel’s Heart,’ and it’s for Hannah McKenzie, the most perfect girl in the world.”

  Hannah’s hand flew up to her chest at his words. She looked shocked to the core. Penny, too, looked emotional. As for Layla, she felt that cell degeneration going into overdrive as he sang out about the girl with the angel’s heart, the girl he would love until the day he died. It was sung with so much strength, so much feeling, she thought it would probably haunt her forever.

  Oh, to be loved like that, she thought, her own eyes blurring. She put an arm round Hannah, and Hannah leaned into her, tears running freely down her face. Penny, too, came closer, gripping them both.

  The song marked the end of their set, the crowd cheering wildly again before yelling their disapproval as the band exited the stage. There was a sudden mass realization of empty glasses, however, and the crowd calmed considerably and moved to the bar for refills. Laughter and chatter filled the air once more as did the tinny sound of the heroic little jukebox, rocking valiantly away despite the fact it was being steadfastly ignored.

  “You had no idea he had written a song for you, did you, Hannah?” Layla asked, smiling gently at her.

  “None at all,” Hannah sighed dreamily. A moment later, horror marked her features instead. “Oh, no, what have I done?”

  “Sorry?” Layla was taken aback by her friend’s sudden alarm.

  “Quick, outside,” shouted Hannah.

  Layla elbowed her way to the entrance, Penny once more following behind. Before she left the pub, she chanced another glance at Joseph. Not only was he still talking to Clare, but a couple of her friends too, who, like her, looked to be about twenty, giggling like the schoolgirls they so recently were.

  Although she was fuming, Layla was glad to be outside, glad to be removed from Joseph and his oh-so-young admirers, for the cold night air that blasted her and for the more subdued level of noise.

  “Is Joseph back with Clare or something?” she asked before remembering it was Hannah who wanted to speak. “Oh, sorry, Hannah, you were about to say…?”

  Clearly agitated, Hannah said, “I’m not sure, but I think I’ve given Jim the wrong impression.”

  “What impression? What do you mean?”

  “Earlier this evening, just as he was about to leave for rehearsals, I told him things have got to change around here, that we can’t go on the way we have been.”

  “And?” said Layla, thinking that actually sounded quite reasonable.

  “When I said that, he looked, I don’t know, forlorn somehow, and before I had a chance to elaborate, he rushed out of the door, mumbling he’d be late for rehearsals if he didn’t go straight away. I haven’t spoken to him since. The thing is, I meant I’ve got to change, not him. I’ve got to stop living in the past. I think he thought I might be leaving.”

  “Leaving? After he’s written you that song?” said Penny, not helping the situation at all.

  “Penny, shush,” hissed Layla.

  “I didn’t know he’d written me that song,” Hannah burst out. “He ne
ver let on. No one’s ever written me a song before, not even so much as a poem. It was…incredible.”

  “It was,” agreed Layla. “It was beautiful.”

  Sniffing, Hannah continued, “And that’s what I wanted to tell him, before he rushed off. That I’m letting Joe go. That I have a choice, and I’ve chosen to love the one I’m with, absolutely and completely. And you know what?” she said, gripping Layla by the shoulders so hard it hurt. “After that song, I think it’s true. It’s actually bloody true. I do love Jim absolutely and completely. I realize that now. I would never leave him.”

  “Oh, Hannah!” Layla hugged her close. “I’m so glad to hear it.”

  “Me, too.” Hannah was sobbing again. “Me, too.”

  Extracting herself from Hannah, Layla said, “Well, don’t just stand there. Go back in. Tell the poor guy. Put him out of his misery.”

  “I will,” said Hannah, turning to go. Just as she was about to disappear, however, she stopped and turned to face Layla once again. “That song was beautiful, wasn’t it?” she said, a huge grin on her face.

  “It was like you. Perfect,” said Layla. “Now go! Go and find him. Tell him what you’ve just told me.”

  As soon as Hannah was out of earshot, Penny turned to Layla. “What’s all that about Hannah being in love with Joe? Boy, he gets around, doesn’t he?”

  Layla was stopped from asking her what she meant when Penny started speaking again. “Look, who’s that in the distance, walking toward us?”

  Straining her eyes to see, Layla could just about make out two figures: one tall and slim, the other not quite so tall and not quite so slim.

  “The tall one looks like Richard, funnily enough,” said Layla without thinking, and then realization dawned. “Oh, God, it is Richard.”

  “And who’s that with him?” said Penny, her voice barely audible.

  “Alex,” whispered Layla, feeling for the second time tonight like she was about to faint clean away.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  PENNY ONLY HAD TO LOOK at Layla to see she was as stunned by Alex’s sudden appearance as Penny was by Richard’s.

  Unlike Layla, she managed to recover enough to find her voice. “Richard, what are you doing here?”

  “I’ve come to see you, of course,” he replied. “What do you think I’m doing here?”

  “But how did you know where to find me?” she asked again.

  “Layla texted me to say you were safe. At least somebody had the decency to,” he said pointedly. “I was at your mother’s in Slough at the time. I thought you’d gone there.”

  “And Alex? What are you doing with Alex?”

  “What is this, twenty questions or something? He arrived at Layla’s cottage the same time as me, looking for her. Neither of you were in, so we came here instead. Alex thought you’d be at the pub, and he was right. You and everyone else by the looks of it.”

  Before she could quiz him further, Richard said, “Look, Penny, can we go somewhere that’s a bit more private, please? We need to talk.”

  Turning to Layla, she said, “Is that okay, Layla? Or do you want me to stay?”

  “No.” Layla shook her head. “Go. We’ll be fine. We need to talk to.”

  “Okay,” said Penny, briefly rubbing her friend’s arm. “I’ll see you soon.”

  To Richard she said, “Come on. This way, down to the beach.”

  What should have been no more than a six or seven minute walk took her around three as she marched off ahead of him. When she was sure they had complete privacy, she turned round to face him. “So, have you come down here to file divorce papers or something? Want to hand them to me personally, is that it? Rub salt into the wound.”

  “No,” replied Richard, appalled. “I’ve come to say you don’t have to worry anymore. That jerk, Dylan, he won’t be bothering you again. I’ve sorted him.”

  “What?” she cried as her hand flew to her mouth. This was the very last thing she expected to hear. That Richard had “sorted Dylan.”

  “Yeah, that’s where I went, to find him. No man calls my wife a prick-tease and gets away with it.”

  Even more stunned, she said, “How did you find him?”

  “I looked him up, back at the office. I Googled him. Turns out he’s got a police record.”

  “How did you know his surname?”

  “You said it, remember? ‘Dylan Goodridge,’ you said. ‘What do you want?’”

  Did she? Then she remembered she’d shouted his name in anger when he’d showed up at their house.

  “It took a bit of digging, but I tracked him down in the end. Turned up on his doorstep. All the way over in Kemp Town, he lives. Mount Pleasant, a misnomer if ever there was one. That street’s about as unpleasant as it gets. Wasn’t so brave when the tables were turned, I can tell you. He looked like a frightened rabbit.”

  “Frightened? But he’s done time for assault.”

  “You knew?”

  Penny hung her name sheepishly. “I did know he’d done time, yes, but I didn’t know what for. He only told me that recently.”

  “Did you know it was against a girl? No, I don’t think so. You need to choose your flirting partners a bit more carefully in future, I think.”

  She was about to bite at that comment when she realized he was smiling. What was there to smile about?

  “I told him I’m a hotshot lawyer. I said that if he set foot within one mile of you ever again, I’d throw the book at him. Get him sent down for harassment. Four years this time instead of two, it being a repeat offence and all that. I don’t know what happened to him in prison, but I get the distinct impression he doesn’t want to go there again.”

  “What did he say?” she gasped, wishing she had a chair she could sink down onto, her legs felt so flimsy.

  “He stuttered, he spluttered, and eventually he said he’d leave well alone. He was practically crying by this time.”

  “Oh, Richard,” she breathed at last. My hero.

  “Especially when I threatened to thump him.” He laughed again.

  “I had no idea,” she said, her voice catching in her throat. “I thought it was the end. That you didn’t believe me.”

  “Of course I believed you. You’re my wife; he’s a scumbag. Do the maths.”

  Laughing too, she said, “You know something, Richard Hughes? I love you.”

  “And I love you, Penny Hughes, to distraction. Always have done, always will do, even if you are an outrageous flirt.”

  “I’ll change. I won’t flirt anymore, I promise.”

  “It’s not you that needs to change. It’s me. I know I drove you into Dylan’s arms in the first place, because I was never around, because I was always at work. I just couldn’t admit it at first. I was more angry with myself than with you.”

  “It’s okay—” started Penny, but Richard hadn’t finished speaking.

  “No, I want to explain why I work the way I do. It’s because I want things to be different for us. I don’t want the life my mother had, scratching around for pennies, what little she did have being drunk by my father. That’s what killed her in the end: money worries and his drinking, I’m sure of it. And, no, don’t worry; I’m not angry with Dad anymore. He’s a frail and lonely old man now with health problems. I feel sorry for him more than anything else. I wanted to give you everything, and working hard was the only way I knew how to do that.”

  “You’re all I want.” She stepped closer to him. “We could live in a shack for all I care, foraging about in the woods for food. As long as I’ve got you, I’m happy.”

  “I’m not sure about the foraging bit. I hate mushrooms,” he said, bridging the gap between them. “But I promise to compromise, work hard, live well, but most importantly, spend plenty of time with you.”

  “Good.” Penny wrapped her arms around him. “Because the last thing I want to do is bring up this baby on my own.”

  “Bring up what?” Richard looked startled now.

  “The
baby,” said Penny, savoring the moment. “I’m pregnant.”

  “You’re…oh, my God!” Richard picked her up and swung her round. “Oh, sorry, I shouldn’t have done that. I haven’t done any harm, have I?”

  “Of course not, silly,” she said, swiping at him. “I haven’t suddenly turned into a Ming vase, you know, just because I’m with child.”

  “You’re more precious than any Ming vase,” he replied. “How long? The pregnancy, I mean.”

  “I’ve only just found out, so two weeks, maybe three at most. I’ll need to get it confirmed. Layla doesn’t know yet. I wanted you to be the first, the baby’s daddy.”

  “Daddy,” he repeated as though the word held some magical, mystical quality. “And you’ll be Mummy.”

  “We’ll be a family.” She smiled. “A proper family, our kids growing up with happy memories, not painful ones.”

  “I love you,” he whispered again, pulling her close to him.

  “I know you do,” she said, and she kissed him hard on the lips.

  The moon enfolding them in its warm glow, it seemed like an eternity before she was able to pull herself away.

  When she did, she said, “Layla. We’ll tell Layla next.” Puckering up for another kiss, realization suddenly hit her. “Oh, God, Layla!” she cried out in alarm. “I have to tell her.”

  “All in good time,” murmured Richard, clearly intent on more lip action.

  “No,” said Penny, hurriedly extricating herself from him. “I don’t mean about the baby, about Joe. About what he said to me earlier today on the headland. He wants to tell her himself, said it’s only right that he should, but he’s leaving it too late. She needs to know now. Before she commits herself to Alex, before she makes the biggest mistake of her life.” Not bothering to explain any further, she grabbed hold of Richard’s hand and, running as fast as she dared given her new circumstances, they made their way back to the pub.