by Susan Lewis
‘Here, let me,’ Tom said, easing her aside to raise Peter back to his feet.
‘Silly old thing,’ Peter was chuckling, though his ashen face showed he’d had a bit of a fright. ‘I’m sorry, don’t want to be a nuisance.’
‘You’re not a nuisance,’ Lainey assured him. ‘Were you trying to go somewhere, or were you intending to sit down?’
Peter only blinked.
‘He needs changing,’ Tom murmured. ‘I’ll take him upstairs.’
‘No, you go,’ she said, holding on to her father’s arm. ‘Obviously your sick girlfriend can’t manage without you, but we can.’
As his face tightened she turned away, already wishing she hadn’t said that, but it was too late to take it back.
A few minutes later, the sound of Tom’s car starting down the drive made her want to run after him, but even if it didn’t mean leaving her father in a vulnerable state, she’d never catch him now.
He was coming back, though, she reminded herself firmly. He’d said at the end of the week and it was Tierney’s birthday on Saturday, so he surely wouldn’t miss that.
The problem was he was going to be with another woman until then, a woman who’d had his child.
Dear God, how could he have led a double life all these years without her knowing?
Chapter Eight
‘WHERE ARE THE kids?’ Stacy asked, putting a glass of wine in front of Lainey and pouring another for herself.
‘Zav went to feed the ducks with Alfie,’ Lainey replied, ‘and Tierney’s up in her room. She couldn’t wait to get there, barely even said hello as she came through the door.’
Stacy’s eyes rolled. ‘And Max?’
‘I’m not sure what time he’s finishing. I guess we’ll find out when he gets here.’
‘Then you don’t have to drive again today,’ Stacy decided, ‘so drink up.’
Though Lainey felt she needed it, when she took a sip she found the taste turning bitter on her tongue.
‘So you haven’t heard anything from Tom since he left?’ Stacy said, going to close the hall door.
‘We’d better keep it open,’ Lainey told her. ‘I want to be able to hear Tierney coming down the stairs.’
Returning to the table, Stacy glanced at Peter who appeared engrossed in an old movie, though whether he was taking anything in only he knew.
‘To answer your question,’ Lainey said, ‘no, he hasn’t rung, and I don’t think he will.’
‘He has to, eventually.’
Lainey only shrugged, and took another sip of wine. ‘I’m still trying to get over the shock of it all,’ she confessed, wishing she could block out the image of a serenely gorgeous Kirsten Bonner with her dazzling smile and killer intellect. ‘Never in my wildest imaginings . . .’ She broke off, shaking her head as her heart caught on the dread of it. ‘Except why not her? She’s exactly his type. Tall, willowy, blonde, every man’s dream, mother of his sixteen-year-old daughter who’s no doubt a perfect copy of her perfect mother . . . It’s all so bloody . . . perfect isn’t it?’
Stacy’s smile was wry. ‘You remind me of your mother when you’re angry.’
Lainey didn’t smile back. ‘Do you think she really is sick?’ she asked, not sure whether she wanted to believe it or not. Before Stacy could answer, she went on, ‘If she is, why didn’t he tell me straight away? No, he was lying, I know it. I think it’s that he can’t make up his mind who he wants to be with, me or her, so he’s making out she’s sick to buy himself some time with her.’
‘Did he say what’s wrong with her?’
Lainey shook her head. ‘Just that she needs him. How sweet is that? And how bloody dare she need him? He’s my husband, for God’s sake, and he’s got three other children besides the one he apparently has with her.’ How could he have a child with another woman? She still couldn’t make herself accept it.
‘Speaking of children,’ Stacy said, ‘have you told yours anything yet?’
‘No, but I guess I’ll say he’s stuck in London dealing with problems on the set.’ Her eyes went to Stacy’s. ‘Do you think he has been leading a double life all this time?’ she asked wretchedly.
‘I’ve no idea,’ Stacy replied gently, ‘but . . .’
‘. . . it’s hard to think otherwise when the child is sixteen years old and her mother is as gorgeous as Kirsten Bonner,’ Lainey finished for her.
‘I was going to say, but he’s always seemed so happy with you that it’s hard for me to believe he’s been cheating all this time. You’d know. Something would have been said, or your instincts would have picked up on it somewhere.’
‘Well, they obviously had an affair sixteen years ago that I knew nothing about, which means he was cheating on Emma with me and Kirsten.’ Her eyes closed as the guilt she still felt about taking him from his first wife closed in on her. ‘This is my own fault,’ she said softly. ‘I deserve what’s happening now for what I did to Emma.’
‘That’s ridiculous,’ Stacy scoffed. ‘It’s all a very long time ago and Emma’s been over it for years.’
‘That doesn’t mean it wasn’t devastating for her at the time, because we know it was, and now I’m starting to find out how it feels.’
Stacy was about to respond when her mobile rang. ‘Sorry, I have to take this,’ she grimaced. ‘I’ll try and make it quick.’
As she got up to wander outside, Lainey found herself overwhelmed by images of Tom and Kirsten Bonner in a rural idyll with their beautiful child and sunshine all over them. How often did he go there? Had they found the place together, three, five, ten years ago, and moved in like newly-weds? How hard did Kirsten find it when he was with his other family? Presumably she’d had enough now, hence the text. She’d wanted to make sure Tom told his wife that he had other commitments that mattered as much as those he had with her.
‘OK?’ she asked as Stacy came back inside.
Stacy nodded. ‘Just Diana wanting details of a few potential contributors. Anyway, what we need to do now is go back over what Tom said, because from what you told me on the phone . . .’
‘There’s really no point,’ Lainey protested. ‘I’ve told you everything anyway, and no matter what kind of spin we try to put on it, it’s not going to change the fact that he’s gone back there . . .’
‘For the whole week?’ Stacy interrupted. ‘Maybe he’s spending some of it in London, on the set.’
‘That’s not what he said, so I’m presuming he’s intending to be with her. Actually, he’s supposed to be writing. Maybe he’s doing it there. For all I know he has his own study at her place. He’s definitely taken his laptop, though not his shaving gear or toothbrush, which means he must already have them there . . .’ Her voice faltered as images of his life with Kirsten rose up to torment her again.
‘I have to say I’m not convinced by any of this,’ Stacy informed her frankly. ‘I mean, obviously Julia must exist, I can’t think he’d lie about that, but as for him leading a double life with Kirsten . . . It would have come out by now if it were true. Someone would have discovered it, you know what the tabloids are like. Nothing escapes them for long.’
‘Maybe this did, but even if you’re right, I can’t see how it makes it much better. He has a child with her, a child he’s never told me anything about . . .’
‘Maybe he didn’t know himself . . .’
Lainey threw out her hands. ‘How could he not know when it was all over the press at the time Kirsten was pregnant? The whole world knew.’ Getting to her feet she went to fetch more wine from the fridge, hoping it might drown some of the turmoil churning inside her. ‘Even if he does come back at the end of the week,’ she declared, ‘I can’t just roll over like some pathetic doormat saying oh do come in, Tom, please walk all over me, Tom. No, I won’t do it. He made his decision when he was here today. I told him, if he left he needn’t bother coming back, and he went anyway. I think that tells me everything I need to know.’
‘But he’s not someone who
just walks out on his family . . .’
‘He did it to Emma and Max.’
‘That still doesn’t mean he’s doing it to you.’
‘Maybe he already has. We only have his word for it that he’ll be back on Friday, or Saturday, or whenever he’s intending to come.’
‘I know you don’t believe he’s gone for good . . .’
‘How do I know what the hell to believe? These past sixteen years have clearly been a total sham . . .’
‘Lainey . . .’
‘No, think about all the time he spends at Dave Hill’s place in Cornwall for “solitude when a book’s not going well”. He’s obviously been with her, hasn’t he, at her Herefordshire retreat, or whatever the hell it is. Convenient that, isn’t it, a cosy little place at the back of beyond . . .’
‘You’re making this up,’ Stacy reminded her. ‘You’ve got no way of knowing if any of it’s true.’
‘I know she lives outside Hereford, because he told me.’
‘I mean about him spending time there.’
‘But surely you can see how easy it’s been for him to lead a double life?’
‘I repeat, you don’t really believe any of this . . .’
‘Actually, Stace, I do. You of all people will remember how he neglected to tell me he was married when we were first together. If I hadn’t got pregnant I’m sure he’d never have told me. I’d have had to find out for myself, and by then I’d probably have been history anyway, because he’d have been with Kirsten Bonner. Or maybe still with Emma, who knows? No, Stace, no matter how good a case you can make as devil’s advocate, he’s still not here, is he? He’s with her. He even admitted it was where he was going, so please don’t try defending him any more. You didn’t see how torn apart he looks. This is big . . .’ Her voice fractured on the undeniable truth of that, as tears stung her eyes.
Reaching for her hand, Stacy said, ‘Don’t you at least want to try to give him the benefit of the doubt? From what you’ve said, you didn’t actually talk for long, so I’m sure there’s more to come out.’
Drying her eyes, Lainey nodded, because actually it was true, they hadn’t talked for long, and she hadn’t really given him a chance to explain anything, so perhaps things weren’t as bad as she feared.
And if she believed that she’d believe Tierney wasn’t thundering down the stairs right now and making her way into the kitchen.
‘You two on the wine already?’ Tierney commented as she dumped her school bag on a worktop and yanked open the fridge. ‘What’s to eat? I’m starving.’
‘There should be some frittata left,’ Lainey replied, ‘unless Zav’s eaten it all.’
‘I’ll bet he has, greedy pig. Oh no, here it is,’ and grabbing the last piece she stuffed it in her mouth, almost choking on a gasp as she knocked her bag to the floor.
‘Oh, Tierney, why don’t you take more care,’ Lainey grumbled, as her laptop and iPhone skidded across the flagstones.
‘It’s not my fault,’ Tierney protested, making crumbs fly as she quickly stooped to gather everything up.
‘Just a minute.’ Lainey spotted a book she recognised. ‘What’s that doing here?’
‘What?’ Tierney countered, shoving the book under her laptop.
‘Tierney, I saw what it was . . .’
‘Yeah, all right, but it’s not mine, OK?’
‘Then why do you have it?’
‘I’m looking after it for someone.’
Lainey’s eyes turned flinty. ‘If your father knew you’d as much as opened that book . . .’
‘I told you, I’m looking after it for someone.’
‘Presumably because her parents don’t want her reading it either. Give it to me.’
‘No way.’
‘I said, give it to me.’
‘And I said no way.’
Lainey’s face turned white. She snatched the book away and tore out a handful of pages.
‘Well, that was mature,’ Tierney snapped.
‘Go back to your room. You’re grounded until we go to Italy.’
Tierney threw out her hands. ‘That is such an overreaction.’
‘Tierney, do as you’re told or I swear to God we’ll both end up sorry.’
Blanching at the outburst, Tierney started back down the hall. ‘I’m going to talk to Dad about you,’ she snarled, ‘because I reckon you’re losing it.’
‘Good luck with that!’ Lainey shouted after her.
‘You’re drunk, that’s what’s wrong with you . . .’
‘Shut up, Tierney.’
‘If you want to lose weight you should give up the booze.’
Lainey’s eyes went to Stacy.
‘You’re not fat,’ Stacy mouthed.
‘And you’re taking it out on me because you’ve had a row with Dad,’ Tierney was ranting on. ‘Well, I don’t blame him for staying in London. I would too if I had to come home to you.’
‘So would I if I had to come home to you,’ Lainey shot back.
‘I hate you.’
‘The feeling’s mutual.’
‘I’m calling Dad now to tell him you’re drunk and abusive and not fit to call yourself a mother.’
‘Do it. And while you’re at it, remind him it’s your birthday on Saturday. Tell him you’re going to be sixteen . . .’
‘Duh, he knows that, and anyway, I told you, I’m going to Skye’s this weekend . . .’
‘We’ll see about that.’
‘Yes, we will and I’m going, so that’s that.’
Allowing her the last word since it would go on all night if she didn’t, Lainey went to close the hall door and took a large breath as she leaned against it.
‘You’re not fat,’ Stacy repeated.
Lainey almost smiled.
‘Lainey, are we going to swimming today?’ her father asked.
‘No, tomorrow,’ she replied.
‘Tomorrow,’ he echoed in a whisper.
‘Would you like some wine?’ she offered, going to fetch a fresh glass.
As she reached the cupboard Tierney came crashing back through the door. ‘I’ve been in touch with Dad,’ she announced. ‘He’s cool about me going to Skye’s for my birthday, and he wants to know is he supposed to be in the studio for his radio interview tomorrow, or is it by phone?’
Lainey looked at Stacy, and could tell by her expression that she had registered the same as she had – first, that Tierney had managed to reach Tom, and second that having been talked into letting Tierney spend her sixteenth birthday with Skye in London, he now had no pressing reason to come back.
‘Well?’ Tierney prompted stroppily. ‘Are you going to text him, or do I have to be the grown-up around here and do it for you? What have you had a row about, anyway?’
‘Who says we’ve had a row?’ Lainey countered.
Tierney shrugged. ‘Seems pretty obvious. You’re always in a vile mood when you two fall out. So, am I doing the texting?’
With a glance at Stacy, Lainey said, ‘Tell him I don’t know about the interview, he’ll have to check with the programme’s producer.’
‘Isn’t that your job?’ Tierney needled her.
‘Tierney, for heaven’s sake, will you just do as you’re told,’ Lainey snapped.
Tierney’s eyes flashed. ‘All right, you don’t have to shout! I just thought you were the one who organises everything . . .’
‘I am, usually, but in this instance . . . Oh for God’s sake.’ Snatching up her phone, she pressed in a text: Maybe Kirsten would like my job as well as my husband.
‘What did you say?’ Tierney demanded.
‘Mind your own business.’
‘It is my business if my parents are behaving like idiots.’
‘Don’t you have some revising to do?’
‘I’ve done it.’
‘Then do it again, and give this to Grandpa before you go.’
Taking the glass of wine, Tierney carried it to Peter and sank on to the sofa beside h
im. ‘Are you OK?’ she asked, wrapping her arms around him.
Smiling, Peter patted her back. ‘Yes, I’m fine. How are you?’
‘Cool, I guess, or I would be if it weren’t for Mum.’
Peter carried on smiling and patting Tierney’s back. ‘You’ve got a wonderful mother,’ he told her, reminding Lainey of when he used to say the same to her.
‘Yeah, right,’ Tierney retorted, and planting a kiss on his cheek she treated Sherman to a hug and started to the door. ‘I’m telling you,’ she stated waspishly as Lainey topped up her and Stacy’s wine, ‘that’s what makes you fat, and if . . .’
‘Tierney, why do you have to be such a horrible child?’ Lainey cut in wearily.
‘Maybe I take after you. Anyway, I’m not staying where I’m not wanted. Thank God I’m out of here on Thursday. I only wish it was sooner.’
A biting retort died on Lainey’s lips as she lost the will to fight Tierney over something her father had apparently agreed to – that she could go to London as soon as term ended. Maybe it was a good thing for her to be away next weekend, particularly if things got any worse with Tom. ‘I’ll make sure your bag is packed ready for you to take to school,’ she told her.
Tierney scowled. ‘So kind,’ she snipped. ‘If you’re making Dad feel that welcome no wonder he doesn’t want to be here,’ and flipping back her hair she stalked off along the hall.
‘She really knows how to press my buttons,’ Lainey sighed, returning to the table.
‘And you owe me for that book. I’ll have to replace it now and I don’t see why I should pay when you’re the one who destroyed it,’ Tierney shouted from the stairs.
‘You’re not getting any money out of me for something that’s going to pollute your mind and pervert your morals,’ Lainey shouted back, quoting Tom.
‘I’m sixteen, remember. It’s not like I don’t know about sex, and half the girls in my year have already done all that stuff.’
‘If you believe that you’re even stupider than you look. Anyway, if you haven’t read it how do you know what’s in it?’
‘Duh, because everyone’s talking about it. Maybe you ought to try reading it yourself, it might loosen you up a bit.’
