by Jill Mansell
‘Nothing at all from Venice?’
She shook her head. He’d had copies made of those magical snowy night-time photos, and she’d treasured them, keeping them safe in the back of her purse so she could gaze at them whenever she wanted . . . until she and Shay had broken up and he had abruptly left town, and it had been just too painful to remember the night it had all begun in St Mark’s Square.
‘Let me guess, you tore them into a hundred pieces and threw them away?’ He was watching her, half smiling now, because he knew so well what she’d been like.
Didi smiled too. ‘I was going to do that, but Layla persuaded me not to. So they stayed in my purse. Until a few weeks later, when she took me to Cheltenham on a shopping trip to try and cheer me up. While we were queuing in Burger King, someone accidentally tripped and fell against me. Well, I thought it was an accident, but when we went to pay, my purse was gone from my bag.’
‘Were you devastated?’
‘It was OK, Layla paid for my burger.’
Shay laughed. ‘Well thank goodness for that.’
She’d always loved his laugh, had loved being able to make him laugh. After a moment she said, ‘But yes, of course I wished I hadn’t lost the photos. They were a part of our past.’
Shay took out his phone, keeping the screen angled away. When he showed it to her, there it was, the photograph that had existed only in her mind for the last thirteen years. It was slightly yellowed and worn around the white edges, with a diagonal crease across the bottom left-hand corner, but otherwise exactly as she remembered. There they were, two teenagers, standing pink-cheeked and sparkly-eyed alongside a snowman just a couple of hours old, laughing at each other whilst the elderly Italian man took their photo and snow fell like fat swirling feathers around them.
Seeing it again was surprisingly emotional. For a long moment Didi had to concentrate hard on willing her eyes to stay dry. When she trusted herself to speak again, she said, ‘I never thought . . .’
‘You didn’t think I’d keep them? I almost didn’t,’ Shay admitted. ‘I left them behind when I went to Australia. Then eighteen months later, while Dad was out of prison, I asked him to send me my five-year diary. When it arrived and I unlocked it, there were the photos.’
She remembered the diary, fat and padlocked, which he’d kept beside his bed. He had filled it with little cartoons, random thoughts, addresses and phone numbers, funny stories and plans for the future.
‘So I kind of followed you all the way to Australia.’
The creases deepened at the outer corners of his eyes. ‘You did. It was good to see you again. After that, I took you along with me wherever I went.’
Didi was touched to hear it. And now, thanks to technology, there were digital copies of the photos that would last forever. Tapping a key on her desktop, she pointed to show him her email address. ‘Can you send them to me?’
Shay nodded, and a couple of seconds later the photos arrived in her inbox.
Just like that, and just as they could have done all those years ago whilst they’d been on opposite sides of the world, if only they’d been speaking to each other.
Didi swallowed the lump in her throat. ‘Did you hate me?’
‘No.’ He shook his head slowly. ‘I didn’t hate you. I just realised you didn’t completely believe me, and that was the worst part of all, the biggest kick in the teeth. I couldn’t handle it.’
It was terrible to hear him say it and she couldn’t even attempt to defend herself, because it was the truth. His departure had broken her heart and she couldn’t blame him for disappearing.
Oh, but how different their lives might have been if the thing that had driven Shay to leave had never happened.
Chapter 18
It had taken the others on the Venice trip less than a morning to work out what was going on. So much for believing they were being discreet.
‘What’s up?’ Layla had demanded as they ran upstairs to collect hats and coats before heading out for their trip on a vaporetto. ‘You were being all weird during breakfast and now you’re looking all . . . zingy.’
If she looked zingy, she felt even zingier on the inside. ‘It’s the snow, it’s exciting! It’s your birthday and we’re in Venice! Who wouldn’t be zingy?’
But Layla wasn’t the only one who’d noticed something was up. The more normal Didi tried to be, the more impossible it became to remember what normal felt like. And Shay Mason had evidently found it just as tricky. All it had taken in the end was for their covert glances and resultant fleeting smiles to be intercepted by the rest of the group. By lunchtime their cover was well and truly blown and the inevitable torrent of teasing ensued.
Nothing more had happened that weekend, but everyone continued to be aware of the electricity crackling like invisible fireworks between the two of them.
‘See?’ Layla was gleeful and as proud as if she’d engineered the situation herself. ‘Aren’t you glad I invited him now? I told you he was nice!’
And when they flew home on the Sunday afternoon, as the snow was melting in Venice, the situation between Didi and Shay was unmistakably heating up.
So that had been the start of it, and the following months had turned out to be the best of Didi’s life, a giddy whirlwind of first love, revising for A levels, brilliant sex, more revising, loads more sex, spending every possible minute together and basically feeling sorry for everyone else on the planet because they couldn’t possibly be as happy as she was.
It just didn’t get better than this. Didi had never expected to meet the love of her life at the age of eighteen, but it had happened anyway and there wasn’t a thing she could do to stop it. She loved Shay Mason with all her heart and every atom of her being. Nothing was ever going to tear them apart.
If her parents had been less than thrilled when they first discovered that their only daughter was involved with Red Mason’s son, any concerns were soon allayed once they got to know him. Shay was warm, intelligent, charming and trustworthy. He took his father’s reputation in his stride and was even able to joke about it, which in turn enabled other people to relax and stop worrying about mentioning the elephant in the room.
By mid June, A levels were behind them and school was over. With his pick of unconditional offers, Shay was all set to head off to university, but in the meantime he took a job at the hotel, helping out wherever he was needed, either as a porter or behind the bar. Everyone loved working with him; he was cheerful and efficient, calm in a crisis, capable of dealing with any problem that arose. So when Dominic, the assistant manager, was knocked off his bike by a van and was signed off work for six weeks, Didi’s parents decided to offer Shay the position.
The offer was made with one proviso. When David and Maura Laing called him into the office, they explained that they trusted him implicitly, of course they did, but they did require his assurance that he would never at any time let the assistant manager’s set of keys out of his sight, either on or off the premises. It had been an awkward moment, but under the circumstances it needed to be said and they hoped he understood.
Shay did, and he gave them his word that the keys would never be left unattended.
For the next ten days he made himself indispensable, taking over Dominic’s duties and making sure the Wickham Hotel ran as smoothly as it ever had.
Until the night an intruder entered the hotel and emptied the safe in the office, getting away with wads of banknotes, several passports, and jewellery and watches worth almost fifty thousand pounds.
This was before CCTV had been installed. The police dusted for fingerprints and eliminated the staff one by one, concluding that the burglar, unsurprisingly, had been wearing gloves. The hotel was in uproar, a hotbed of whispering and accusations. Antonia, the pursed-lipped housekeeper, was the first to come out with it. ‘So is it up to me to say what everyone else is thinking? Just after Shay Mason gets his hands on the keys, this happens. I mean, it’s not rocket science.’
When D
idi heard what was being said, she hit the roof, but rumours were rumours and there was nothing she could do to stop them spreading. To make matters worse, her mother had lost a significant item of jewellery in the burglary; David had bought her the fabulous emerald necklace the previous Christmas. Maura had been overcome with emotion when she’d opened it on Christmas morning; it was a stunning piece and by far the most extravagant gift he’d ever given her.
Now it was gone, and she was devastated. All they could do was hope and pray that at some stage the stolen items would be tracked down and returned. The fact that the necklace was insured was of no consolation to Maura; as far as sentimental value was concerned, nothing else could begin to compete with the original item chosen for her by her husband.
Whilst sympathetic to her mother’s loss, Didi had more important things to worry about. Her father was now paying extremely close attention to Shay, and not in a reassuring way. Much as he liked Shay as a person, he evidently still found the coincidence and the timing suspicious. As did the police. Shay was spoken to on several occasions, along with his father. Red Mason flatly denied any involvement in the burglary. His house was searched and friends who were known criminals were questioned too. Nothing was found, but Didi began to experience a creeping unease, because other people’s suspicions weren’t going away. And deep down, scarcely able to admit it even to herself, she found herself beginning to suspect that Shay wasn’t being entirely truthful either.
She wasn’t imagining it, that was the thing. She knew him so well by this time, it was agonisingly apparent that he was hiding something. And whilst at first she wouldn’t have dreamed of suspecting him of any involvement, the longer he refused to admit that he was concealing some small detail from her, the more she found herself worrying about what it might be.
Not that she thought for one second that he could have had any deliberate involvement, but there had to be something to explain his behaviour. Her number one suspicion was that despite his vehement denials, he’d taken the hotel keys home with him and accidentally left them out somewhere, long enough for copies to be made or for the originals to be used on the night of the burglary.
If this was what had happened and he would just come out and admit it, she wouldn’t tell anyone else and she wouldn’t blame him either, because obviously it wasn’t something he would ever have done on purpose. But his outright denial, coupled with the fact that she was categorically aware he was holding back something significant, made the sense of frustration almost unbearable. He knew who was behind the burglary, she was certain, but no way was he going to tell the police or even admit his suspicions. It was like honour among thieves, despite the fact that he wasn’t a thief.
The crack in the relationship deepened.
Didi’s father explained to Shay that he was sorry, but under the circumstances he’d be hiring a replacement assistant manager until Dominic was able to return to work.
That night, the police arrived at Hillcrest and arrested Red in connection with a smuggled shipment of whisky. Still on parole following his most recent stint inside for illegal handling of a Lamborghini, he was returned to prison to serve out the remainder of his sentence.
About to finish her shift at the hotel that evening, Didi overheard Antonia saying to her mother, ‘Don’t fret about the boy, he’ll find another job soon enough. And at least we know the culprit is out of the way now, back where he can’t do any more damage. Until the next time, that is.’
‘Maybe it wasn’t him. Red’s saying he had nothing to do with it.’ Maura still sounded concerned.
‘Well he would say that, wouldn’t he? That man’s spent his life lying to the police. And I’ll tell you who isn’t going to be happy about him being back inside.’ Antonia’s tone was both conspiratorial and disapproving. ‘I heard he’s been having a bit of a thing with Lena Barker for the last couple of weeks whilst her husband’s up in Dundee looking after his sick mother. Honestly, Red Mason has the morals of a—’
‘Mum? I’m off now.’ Didi had heard enough; she didn’t like the fact that Antonia, who was prim and endlessly judgemental, could never resist making digs at other people.
‘Oh hi, darling, yes, see you later. Will you be home tonight?’
‘Shouldn’t think so. I’ll probably stay over at Shay’s.’ She caught Antonia’s headmistressy arched brows and loud sniff of disapproval.
‘OK. Be here by seven tomorrow.’ Maura gave her hand a squeeze. ‘Busy day.’
‘I won’t be late. I never am.’
As she was leaving, she heard Antonia murmur, ‘Is that sensible, Maura, letting her spend the night in the house of a known criminal?’
Oh do give it a rest, you witch.
When she reached Hillcrest, she found Shay working in the garden and relayed Antonia’s words to him. She wrapped her arms around his waist. ‘Are you OK? Sorry about your dad.’
‘Hey. I’m used to it.’ He held her tight and she closed her eyes, wishing everything could go back to how it had been a week ago. She breathed in the scent of his sun-warmed skin and ran her hands over his back.
‘I love you,’ she said.
‘Love you too.’ But when she opened her eyes, Didi saw from the reflection in the living room window that he was gazing into the distance in that distracted way she’d seen far too often over the past few days.
She took a step back, forcing him to look at her. ‘What are you thinking?’
‘Nothing.’ He shook his head.
She hated that he was lying to her. ‘Something’s bothering you. If you love me, you’ll tell me what it is.’
He wasn’t budging. ‘There isn’t anything.’
‘But that’s not true,’ said Didi. ‘You shouldn’t be keeping secrets from me . . . not any kind of secret. You know something and you don’t trust me enough to tell me.’ Her breath quickened as frustration escalated. ‘You don’t trust me.’
‘And you don’t believe me,’ Shay shot back. ‘You say you do, but you don’t, not completely. You still think I’m lying to you.’
They stared at each other, and that was the moment it happened. In a split second, everything changed. He’d never looked at her in that way before. She realised she was trembling, shock mingling with rising anger because he was accusing her unfairly, putting the blame on her instead of admitting she was right.
‘I don’t think,’ she said. ‘I know.’
‘Well if you’re so clever, why don’t you tell me what happened?’
‘Honestly? I think you’re denying everything because you know you accidentally left the keys somewhere in the house and your dad got hold of them.’
‘My dad says he didn’t carry out the burglary.’
‘Look, I like your dad, but he’s a criminal.’ The words shot out like bullets. ‘He always says that.’
‘But this time it’s the truth. And I didn’t leave the keys where he could get hold of them either. It wasn’t him and it wasn’t me. But thanks for clearing some things up for me. It’s good to know how you really feel, deep down.’
‘That’s not fair! I’m on your side!’ She could feel herself losing control now; the afternoon sun was burning the back of her neck, perspiration trickling down her spine.
Shay shook his head. ‘Maybe you think you are, but that’s irrelevant. You still think I was involved in some way, and that tells me everything I need to know about us.’ He turned away, one palm raised in protest. ‘That’s it.’
Talk about overdramatic. ‘This is crazy, you’re—’
‘No, it isn’t crazy, I’ve just learned a big lesson and it’s better that it happens now than years down the line. Go home,’ said Shay, ‘go back to your family. We’re done here. We’re just . . . done.’
He was looking at her as if she were a stranger. Didi couldn’t believe it had come to this. Part of her wanted to stay and fight – OK, not fight fight, but carry on the argument until she could finally make him see sense. The other part of her had too much pride to
continue arguing when he was the one being so unreasonable, and furthermore, she knew there’d be no changing his mind about anything tonight.
He’d lost his job and was feeling ganged-up on. This was an over-the-top reaction but she supposed he had a right to be upset. The best move now would be to leave him to think things through and let him get the pent-up anger out of his system.
But she was only human, so instead of leaving without saying anything more, Didi turned and called over her shoulder, ‘Fine, give me a call when you’re ready to tell me what’s really been going on.’
Thirteen years on, thinking back to that fateful moment, Didi could still remember every last detail of that afternoon: the dragonflies darting back and forth in front of her as she took the shortcut across the field; the long dry summer grasses whipping against her bare legs; the way her T-shirt clung damply to her torso. She could also clearly recall each twist and turn of the argument she’d carried on having with Shay inside her head. By the time she’d reached the hotel, it was an argument she’d won, and he had apologised profusely, admitting he was the one in the wrong. He’d wrapped his imaginary arms around her once more, told her he knew when he was beaten, and confessed that yes, he’d meant to lock the hotel keys away but had dozed off on the sofa and forgotten. And she’d told him it didn’t matter one bit, she was just glad everything was sorted out now and there must never be any secrets between them again. Then they’d kissed, and kissed some more, before heading upstairs to Shay’s bedroom to put the argument well and truly behind them.
Except that hadn’t happened. Instead, she’d gone over to Compton House to see Layla. They’d spent the evening out in the garden, playing music, eating pizza, drinking cider and complaining about boys. At midnight, gazing up at the stars flung like silver confetti across the sky, Layla had said dreamily, ‘I’ve never spent the night in a tent. I bet it’s brilliant fun. There’s a music festival in Bristol this weekend. Katie and Jo are heading down there tomorrow; d’you fancy going along with them? Their tent sleeps six and we could get a lift in their car . . . Oh, sorry, I wasn’t thinking.’
