by Jill Mansell
She was off again, breaking down completely this time. Bryn, doing his best to comfort her, said to Jack, 'We've been going through a tough time, see. It feels like everyone's forgetting about Rose. They used to ask us how we were, and talk about her. But now it's as if they think we should be putting all that behind us. Moving on, like. But they don't understand. We can't put it behind us and we don't want to forget her. And new people are moving into the village who never even knew her—it's like she means nothing to them. Well, I suppose she doesn't. But she means everything in the world to us.'
'That's why we had to come and see you today.' Still tearful, Dilys shook her head and wiped her red-rimmed eyes. 'Because you're the only other person who loves Rose as much as we do. You're the only other person who understands, because you miss her too. I mean, I know they can't help it, but it's like she's f-fading away, being rubbed out, getting fainter and fainter. And everyone else is just moving on as if she'd never existed.'
Jack escaped from the kitchen and went upstairs. It was eight thirty already and he could no longer even remember whether he'd been meant to pick Tilly up at eight o'clock or nine. Bryn and Dilys Symonds' grief had had that much of an effect on him. What's more, it was catching. At this moment, he was riddled with shame and guilt.
Having ensured the bedroom door was firmly shut, he took out his phone. What other choice did he have?
What was going on? Jack had said he'd be here at eight. From not having had the slightest twinge of anxiety that he might not turn up, Tilly was now in knots. Eight o'clock had come and gone and she hadn't been able to stop pacing the kitchen since. All dressed up and nowhere to go. This was like being sixteen again, beginning to realize that the boy you'd fancied for months, who'd said he'd meet you at the bus stop, had stood you up.
Disbelief mingled with misery as, slowly and sickeningly, the hands of the clock slid round to eight thirty. Every few minutes she'd been compelled to check that the phone was still working. By eight thirty-one, she was pinning all her hopes on a car accident. Not too serious, just enough to result in Jack being trapped in his car, unable to reach his mobile. As soon as the firemen managed to cut him free, he'd call her, maybe a bit battered and bruised but otherwise unhurt, and he would be so apologetic, and she would tell him not to be stupid, he was OK and that was all that mattered, but he'd keep saying he was sorry, even while the paramedics were telling him he had to get off the phone now because they needed to check him over, then she'd hear Jack say to them, 'There's only one person I want to be checked over by, and she's on the other end of this line.'
Bbbbrrrrinnnggg. Back in the real world, the phone on the coffee table rang at last and Tilly launched herself at it like a rugby player. Of course he'd rung, of course he had a genuine excuse, he was probably calling to say he was on his way and would be here in two minutes…
'Hello?'
'Hi, it's me. Look, sorry, but I'm not going to be able to make it tonight. Something's come up.'
It was Jack's voice, but it didn't sound like Jack. He was dis tracted, distant, not himself at all.
'Are you OK?' Tilly's palms were slippery. 'Are you ill?' As she said it, she heard a door opening in the background, a female voice saying apologetically, 'Oh… sorry…'
'No. I'm fine. Um, I can't talk about it now. Sorry about tonight. I'll call you tomorrow. Bye.'
'Wait—' But it was too late; the phone had already gone dead. She stared at it, trying to imagine what could have happened to cause him to do this.
Except…
Except she knew the answer to that, didn't she? It had to be something to do with another woman. Or women, plural. Because let's face it, women were the focus of Jack Lucas's life. He sur rounded himself with them, amused himself with them, and broke their hearts.
And she'd nearly, so very nearly got herself sucked into the madness. Had been on the verge of surrendering herself, joining the harem, making a complete and utter fool of herself. Because Jack was programmed to hurt the women who passed through his life; it came as automatically to him as breathing. While she'd been busy fantasizing that this time it would be different, he'd been metaphori cally ticking her name off his to-do list.
Because that was the thing; he wasn't interested in any kind of proper, meaningful relationship. Rose had been his big love and he'd lost her. Since then, he'd immunized himself against the risk of ever letting it happen again. Safety in numbers and all that. Which was fair enough, sensible even. In theory. So long as you weren't one of the poor gullible females on the receiving end.
As she had so nearly become.
Oh God, and she'd wanted it to happen so much. This hurt.
This was miserable.
Tilly closed her eyes. And if she was miserable now, well, then she'd really had a narrow escape.
Chapter 34
EVERY TIME THE DOORBELL rang, Erin's stomach contracted with fear that it could be Scary Stella. When it happened at ten o'clock that evening, she looked at Fergus.
'Oh God. Is that her?'
'Leave it to me.' Fergus rose from the sofa and went downstairs.
He was soon back. 'It's someone slightly less scary.'
'Tilly!' Relief turned to concern. 'God, what's happened? You look awful!'
'You're too kind. I brought wine.' Flopping down onto the sofa and letting out a groan of despair, Tilly passed the bottle to Fergus. 'Big glass for me, please. Oh sorry, have I taken your seat?'
'That's fine.' Erin patted Tilly's arm. The lovely thing about Fergus was, when a friend in need turned up unexpectedly, it wouldn't occur to him to resent the intrusion.
Within seconds, they heard the cork being popped out of the bottle. Fergus returned from the kitchen with two brimming glasses.
Tilly took hers. 'Thanks. You're allowed to have some too, you know.'
'I was about to go and pick up the food. We've ordered Indian. Want me to get some for you too, or will you share ours?'
'I'm too churned up to eat.' Tilly took a glug of wine. 'Well, maybe some poppadums. Seeing as I've been stood up.'
Erin said, 'Who by?'
'I've been stupid.'
'Who by?'
'Gullible.'
'WHO BY?'
'It's my own fault. Should've known better.'
'I'll take your wine away if you don't tell me.'
'Don't.' Tilly whisked the glass out of reach. 'OK, OK. Jack.'
'Jack Lucas?'
'You aren't allowed to say I told you so. I already know that.' Tilly looked over at Fergus, hovering awkwardly in the doorway. 'Big mistake, right?'
'Sorry. Jack's a good bloke, but…'
'Maybe not ideal happy ending material.'
Fergus gave her a sympathetic look. 'He does have that reputation.'
'You didn't even tell me!' Erin was stunned. 'I can't believe you didn't tell me!'
'That's because there hasn't been anything to tell. Nothing's… you know, happened.' Oh well, no point in being coy. 'It was sup posed to happen tonight,' said Tilly. 'But he phoned and cancelled. Just when I was starting to worry that he'd crashed his car. And to think, I thought I was different from all the rest. I honestly believed we had a connection.'
The look on Erin's face told her all she needed to know. Every single one of Jack's conquests believed they were different from the rest. His seduction skills were so finely tuned they all thought they had that connection.
'What did he say when he called you tonight?'
'Nothing. That he couldn't make it, that's all. That something had come up. Tuh.' Tilly laughed bitterly at the old double entendre. 'He hung up pretty quickly too. Couldn't get off the phone fast enough. And I heard some girl's voice in the background.'
'He might have had a good reason.' But they both knew Erin was only saying it to make her feel better.
'I've just driven past his house. He's at home. The lights are on and there's another car parked on the driveway.'
Fergus said, 'What kind of car?'
&nb
sp; 'A red one. Anyway, it doesn't matter. I just needed some company. And you two drew the short straw. Bad luck.' Tilly took another swig of wine. 'Now you're stuck with me for the next couple of hours while I bleat on about myself like a ninny.' She waggled a finger at them both. 'And you can't tell anyone, either. I don't want the whole of Roxborough knowing what a prat I've made of myself. Cross your heart and hope to die. This is classified information.' At that moment her stomach gave a huge rumble of protest. Disgusted with her ability to be simultaneously heartbroken and ravenously hungry, Tilly said, 'OK, better get me a bag of vegetable samosas.'
The headlights lit up the road ahead as Jack drove. Bryn and Dilys had left at eleven thirty. All the emotions he'd thought he'd finally managed to get under control had been churned up again by their visit. When Dilys had gazed around the living room and said in a quivery voice, 'Oh Jack, where are the photos of Rose?' he'd felt like an axe murderer. Attempting to explain why he didn't have any out on display only in creased their bafflement and hurt. Guilt skewered him time and time again as thoughts of Tilly intruded into his brain. There was no way he could tell Dilys and Bryn he'd finally met someone who mattered to him; they would regard it as the worst kind of betrayal of their daugh ter. And as he listened to them talk on and on about Rose, the old feel ings had surged up again until Jack found himself agreeing with them, realizing they were right, and that the relationship he'd been about to embark on with Tilly would have been very, very wrong.
By the time he'd shown them out of the house, the pain and grief was as fresh as if Rose had just died all over again. Saying good bye to them, Jack had promised to come and visit her grave soon.
But sleep was beyond him. Exhausted and emotionally wrung out though he was, he couldn't relax. Guilt about having failed Rose fought inside him with guilt about the way he'd treated Tilly tonight. She must be wondering what the hell was going on. He owed her an explanation at least. Even if, just now, he barely under stood it himself.
Jack knew he was driving too fast but the road was deserted. As he approached Beech House, he still had no idea what he was going to do. This so wasn't how tonight had been meant to turn out. He'd tried calling her, but the phone hadn't been answered, and she deserved more than a phone call anyway. Braking sharply, he swung the car up the drive. Chances were, Tilly wouldn't be too happy with him either.
Shit, life was so much easier when you didn't get emotionally involved.
And after all that, Tilly wasn't even here. Having rounded the bend, Jack saw that the top of the drive was empty. Her car was missing. She could be anywhere, and could he blame her?
He swung the Jag round in a circle. Right, so much for that idea. Maybe it was better that they left it for tonight anyway, given the current state of his brain.
Time to go back home.
'There he is! That's him. That's his car!' Tilly let out a shriek of recognition and threw herself sideways.
Fergus, struggling to fend her off, said, 'Don't beep the—'
BEEEEEEP!
'Bastard,' roared Tilly. 'Stop the car!'
They were just driving over the bridge on the Brockley Road. Fergus braked, as did Jack.
'Oh great.' Fergus sounded resigned. 'Now he'll probably throw me into the river.'
But Tilly, emboldened by drink, was already scrambling out of the car. As she approached the top of the bridge, the driver's door of the Jag swung open and Jack stepped out, illuminated by the silvery light of the almost full moon behind him.
The fact that he looked so perfect made it easier for Tilly. How could she ever have imagined they might have a future together?
'Thanks for tonight.' Her voice carried clearly across the distance between them.
Jack shook his head. 'I'm sorry. I said I was sorry. I've just been over to see you, but you weren't there. I tried calling you too.'
'You don't have to apologize. I'm not being sarcastic. I really mean it,' said Tilly. 'Thanks for standing me up tonight; I'm glad you did. And I'm sure you had a lovely time too, with whoever it was who turned up—was it one of your regular harem or an exciting new one? Not that it bothers me.' She held up her hands before he had a chance to speak. 'I'm just curious. Actually, it must have been one of the old gang, because a complete stranger wouldn't just turn up on your doorstep, would they? Although, who knows, maybe I'm wrong. Maybe when you're Jack Lucas they do! Still, as long as you had fun, that's the important thing.'
'Hello? Am I allowed to speak?' If he'd been apologetic before, Jack now sounded less so. Evenly he said, 'It was nothing like that.'
'Ha! Yeah, right. I heard her voice, Jack.'
'Rose's parents turned up.'
Oh.
Tilly hated it when this happened, when you were all geared up for a shouting match and the other person said something that stopped you in your tracks. She closed her eyes and felt herself swaying slightly; that was another thing, she'd had too much wine to be able to argue in any coherent fashion.
'You could have told me that earlier, when you rang me.' She felt sorry for Jack and his in-laws, of course she did. But did that automatically mean she had to forgive him? He hadn't even men tioned that they'd been there.
'Maybe.' Jack nodded slightly. 'But I was distracted. Dilys was upset. It's been a hell of a night.'
'Um… sorry to interrupt,' Fergus called from the car, 'but this is a narrow road and we're blocking it.'
'OK. I'm coming now.' Tilly turned and headed back towards him.
'It's all right. I'll take you.' Jack looked over at Fergus and said, 'Let me give her a lift.'
Tilly, her back to Jack, shook her head at Fergus.
Fergus said awkwardly, 'Thanks, but that's OK. I'll drop her home.'
'Tilly. I'm sorry about tonight. I'll speak to you tomorrow.'
'No need.'
'There is. We have to talk.' He exhaled with frustration. 'I didn't want this to happen tonight.'
Tilly climbed back into Fergus's car. 'I know. But it did. I'm not trying to punish you, Jack. I'm doing it to protect myself.'
Some people were lucky; when they woke up with a blistering hang over they were able to sleep it off. They simply turned over and slid back into unconsciousness until it was all over.
It didn't work that way for Tilly. Her hangovers always woke her early and insisted she stayed awake to enjoy every minute. By the time Betty ambled upstairs and pushed the bedroom door open with her nose at seven o'clock, Tilly had already been awake for an hour and a half.
It was so unfair.
And not just the hangover.
Oh God, what a hideous night. Just when you thought your life was heading in one direction, it did a screeching handbrake turn. It was like taking center stage at the Palladium preparing to sing 'Nessun Dorma' then realizing that the orchestra were launching into 'The Birdie Song' instead.
By eleven o'clock, the ibuprofen had kicked in, Tilly's headache was gone, and her mind was made up. When the doorbell rang, she braced herself and went to answer it.
Except it wasn't Jack.
Dave the postman was standing on the doorstep clutching a large flat rectangular parcel. 'All right, love? Hello, Betty!'
'Hi, Dave.' The parcel possibly contained a king-sized box of chocolates, which might cheer her up. 'Present for me?'
Not that it was likely to be.
'Sorry, love.' Having enthusiastically scratched Betty's ears, he straightened back up and handed the parcel over. 'It's for Kaye. They've addressed it care of Max. Sent it all the way from America too.' The fact that letters and parcels could wing their way here from other countries and continents was a source of endless fascination to Dave.
'Thanks.' Taking it from him and giving it an experimental shake, Tilly hoped it wasn't a squashed Chihuahua. 'They're all away for the weekend. I'll give it to Kaye when she gets back.' Over Dave's shoulder she saw the Jag heading up the drive. At the sound of wheels on gravel, Dave twisted round too.
When he turned back, he gave
Tilly a doubtful look. 'And Max and Kaye are away? Does that mean there's something going on between you two?'
'No.' Honestly, was nosiness part of the job description? 'No, there's nothing going on. At all,' Tilly said firmly.
'Oh right. Just as well.' Lowering his voice, Dave leaned closer. 'Gets sent a lot of Valentine cards, that one does.'
'I'm sure. But not from me.'
Dave made his way back to the post van, nodding and saying hello to Jack as they passed each other. Then he glanced at Betty, who had tolerated having her ears scratched by him but was now racing across the gravel and launching herself joyfully at the new arrival like an over-excited It girl. The last look Dave shot at Tilly spoke volumes; dogs or girls, it didn't matter. They all superglued themselves to Jack.
