‘Ben, I-’ she started, but he turned on his heel and walked away. ‘Wait, where are you going?’ she spluttered, going after him as he made his way to the front door.
He didn’t reply as he crouched down to shove his feet into his boots.
‘You don’t have to go,’ she said as he tugged on his laces so hard, she thought they might snap. ‘It’s not as bad as it sounds.’
‘Don’t say another word,’ he replied without looking up at her. ‘Don’t say another fucking word.’
She reached out to put hand on his shoulder. ‘But-’
He shrugged her off as he stood back up. ‘You’re fucking mental, you know that? I mean, what kind of person does this?’
‘But if you’d just let me explain…’ She moved out of his way as he grabbed his jacket.
‘I don’t want to hear it. I don’t even want to look at you.’ He snatched his keys and shook his head. ‘Do you have any idea how fucked up this is? How fucked up you are?’
Seph’s heart raced. Why was he getting ready to walk out? That wasn’t part of the plan. Why didn’t she have a remote control that could let her press pause? She needed to take a minute to gather her thoughts. She needed to regain the clarity she’d found, to explain it to him so he could understand where she was coming from and react the way she’d expected him to.
‘Ben, please. Don’t go.’
He stopped in front of the door but didn’t turn to face her. His shoulders rose and fell, anger seeping from his pores. When he finally turned to look at her, the look of hurt in his eyes was so strong that she struggled to hold his gaze. She hadn’t meant to do this. She hadn’t meant to hurt him.
‘I suggest you go to a doctor,’ Ben said, keeping his voice level. ‘I suggest you go there and tell him you’re not sleeping, not eating, spending money like it grows on trees and fucked someone else.’
‘I don’t need a doctor.’
‘You know, I spent most of my spare time in Cannes on the internet trying to figure out what the hell’s been going on with you.’
Seph frowned and swallowed, shrinking away a little as if she could somehow escape the spotlight-like beam of his eyes.
‘You said Nico has bipolar,’ Ben said. ‘I think you might have it too.’
What? He was being silly. Of course she didn’t have bipolar disorder, she’d know if she did. But the words dried up in her throat and all she could do was shake her head.
‘You know what? It doesn’t even matter. I’m out.’ Ben lifted his hands before dropping them back down again. ‘I’ve had just about all I can take.’
Tears sprang to her eyes, but Seph was rooted to the spot, her feet unable to move, her mouth unable to speak. Ben walked out, slamming the heavy metal door behind him, and all she could do was watch him go.
LAUREL
Twenty-Six
A couple stood locked in a passionate kiss next to one of the ticket machines in London King’s Cross station. Laurel tried not to stare. They couldn’t be any older than her and Tony, and they looked like they’d just stepped out of a boardroom. She spotted the rings around their fingers.
I’ll bet they’re having an affair.
An unexpected stab of disapproval made her tear her eyes away to focus on the departures board instead. Her mind had been so quick to assume they were doing something wrong. Why? Had she really turned into one of those old biddies with nothing more to do than be critical and judgemental about people she didn’t even know? There was nothing to say that the couple weren’t happily married, to each other. Laurel thumbed the gold band of her wedding ring, twisting it around her skin. She wasn’t betraying Tony. He knew what she was doing, why she was here, but she still felt as if she was about to do something wrong.
She found herself looking at the couple again. When was the last time she’d kissed Tony like that in public? Years ago, probably. They were so used to their homely cottage nowadays, with date nights being in the local pub or restaurants. Their universe was a cosy one, contained in a quaint, idyllic little village instead of a sprawling city. Kissing like a pair of teenagers in the middle of Oxley would most likely raise a few eyebrows and besides, it had never really been her and Tony’s style. Their passion ran deep, deeper than she could ever have imagined, but it was a passion reserved for the two of them, not dozens of strangers.
A horde of people descended from a train that had just pulled in, and swallowed the couple up. Laurel shifted her weight from one foot to the other and pulled down the hem of her crisply ironed shirt. She looked down at her watch for the seventh time in as many minutes and clenched her jaws. Nico was late, just like always.
People wandered all around her, dragging suitcases, swinging briefcases and unfolding maps, and her gaze flicked from face to face. Finally, it settled on the one she’d tried so hard to forget over the years but could still recognise anywhere. Her stomach leapt up and down, from side to side, just as it had when they’d met again after he’d first made contact a few months ago. Her instinct told her to turn around and leave before he got any closer but she stood rooted to the spot. She imagined the heels of her shoes driving into the ground, holding her firm and steady. Nico’s eyes caught hers and he nodded in an advanced greeting as he weaved his way through the crowd.
‘I’m not late, am I?’ he asked as he closed the gap between them.
‘Yes, you are.’
‘It was a long wait for the Tube, sorry.’
He ran a hand through his hair in a move that took her right back to the very first time she’d seen him, when she’d stared at him through her camera lens in her childhood bedroom. Laurel clutched the strap of her handbag as a recorded message played out across the station advising about unattended luggage. The slicked back hair, leather jacket and trendy jeans Nico used to wear had been replaced by perfectly respectable chinos, a shirt and tie. But a change of clothes couldn’t change a man. She didn’t trust him and wanted nothing more than to go back to the village her life was contained in and the husband her life had been built with.
‘So, you said it was urgent?’ she said curtly, not quite meeting his deep brown eyes.
Nico twisted his neck to glance behind him at the entrance. ‘We can go for coffee, if you want?’
‘I don’t have much time, I’m on my lunch break.’
‘How about a sandwich, then?’ Nico smiled a little and Laurel shook her head.
‘I’d rather not.’
His eyes flickered down to the ground and for a second, he looked unsure of himself. It almost made her feel sorry for him, but she had to keep her resolve.
When he’d contacted her months ago, she’d made the mistake of agreeing to meet in a café. She wasn’t about to repeat it this time around. She didn’t want to sit at a table with him, sipping on a latte macchiato as if he were an old friend. It had bred a feeling of familiarity she’d rather forget and even though she’d walked out after only a few minutes, it had been enough for him to feel bold enough to make contact with Seph. Laurel had often wondered what would have happened if she’d have ignored him. If she’d have told him he’d got the wrong number when he’d called and filled her ears with a voice she hadn’t heard for twenty-seven years. Seph might be intent on meeting up with him and building bridges but as far as she was concerned, it was better to keep him at a distance. This meeting was going to be short, formal and to the point.
He looked at her and his eyebrows pulled together an inch. ‘I was really sorry to hear about George.’
Laurel’s breath caught in her throat at the mention of her brother’s name on his lips. The backs of her eyes stung as she shook her head a fraction. ‘What?’
‘Seph told me the other day. I can’t imagine how it must have been. I know you two were close.’
She looked down at his tanned leather shoes and blinked the tears away. Back when they’d been together, her closeness with George had become a bone of contention between them. George had always been critical of him, especially after th
eir flat had been emptied out by loan sharks. And the night Nico had said those awful things about him in the salon certainly hadn’t helped.
‘He was a good guy,’ Nico added.
‘Yes, he was,’ she replied, still looking at his shoes. Would he say the same thing if George were still alive, or was he being polite by not speaking ill of the dead? Laurel looked back up to see genuine sympathy in his eyes, but she shook her head a little. ‘I didn’t come all the way to London for you to tell me that though, did I?’
‘No.’ Nico rubbed a hand across the beard on his chin and cheeks. ‘Are you sure you don’t want to go somewhere else a bit more…’
‘More what?’
‘I dunno.’ He shrugged. ‘Private.’
Laurel glanced around at the people walking past them, seemingly oblivious to their presence. ‘I don’t think anybody’s interested in what we’re doing. That’s one of the great things about London, isn’t it?’
Nico smiled a little in response, but it quickly fell from his face as he jammed his hands into his pockets. He looked down at the ground and frowned before looking back up at Laurel.
‘I’m worried about Seph.’
‘Worried about her? You don’t even know her,’ she scoffed with raised eyebrows.
‘I know,’ he admitted. ‘But we met the other day and there were a few things that struck me as…I dunno. Odd.’
‘I really don’t see how you of all people could think anything about Seph is odd.’ Laurel flashed him a look of irritation.
‘I know we have our history, Lorie –’
‘Laurel,’ she interjected.
Nico held his hands up. ‘Fair enough.’
Was she being petty? It felt like it. Nearly everybody called her Lorie, but with him it felt dangerous. Her defences were set high when it came to him. They had to be – she had a family to protect, and a daughter who seemed to be impervious to the trouble that always followed Nico around. She didn’t trust him enough to let her defences come down, not even an inch.
‘I know we have our history,’ he continued, ‘but it’s a history I don’t want to see repeated with Seph.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘Look, I’m going to be frank about this. You’re right, I don’t know Seph all that well but I’ve had this disorder for a long, long time. I know what the signs are. I know what it feels like, how it manifests itself. I know what bipolar looks like.’
‘Oh, please,’ Laurel scoffed. ‘Whatever you’ve had to deal with is nothing to do with Seph.’
‘It has everything to do with her. There is a genetic link –’
‘I’m well aware of that,’ Laurel snapped. ‘I just don’t know why you think you’re qualified to make such an assumption. You’re not the one who’s been there every day of her life. You don’t know how she acts, what she feels.’
‘That’s not true.’
‘How isn’t it? You pissed off and never looked back.’
She caught herself and quickly glanced around them. She hadn’t meant to raise her voice. Despite what she’d said about nobody being interested in their conversation, it still wasn’t one she wanted to shout about. He just made her so angry. Especially because after visiting Seph yesterday, she had a few worries of her own. The look that had been in her eyes…Laurel shook her head. She’d tried reassuring herself that it was only a look. It didn’t necessarily mean anything. Maybe she’d been projecting her past hurts onto her daughter and reading too much into things that weren’t there, that Seph didn’t have bipolar disorder, or anything else for that matter.
‘What makes you think you can just show up after all these years and act like you give a damn?’
‘I’m not acting. I know you don’t want me around, Laurel. I hurt you, I know that, and I’m sorry. You don’t have to forgive me for what I did, but you need to focus on Seph. I really think she needs help.’
Laurel’s arm shot out and her hand connected with his cheek in a short, sharp slap. ‘How dare you. All I’ve ever done is focus on her, for every single day of her life. You left us. You let me think you’d committed suicide by throwing yourself off the bloody Clifton Suspension Bridge. How dare you stand there and say that?’
Nico stood still, the visible skin under his beard turning red where her hand had struck him. His hands remained in his pockets as he looked down at the ground, the muscles in his jaws twitching. Laurel’s breath left her body in short spurts, filled with frustration and pent up anger. Her chest heaved with the effort of resisting the urge to drive her fists into his chest so she could shove him away into another dimension. Tears burned her eyes as he slowly looked up at her.
‘Laurel, I-’
‘You made me think you’d killed yourself and then came back from the dead to tell me you didn’t want us anymore. I was only nineteen years old and you left me on my own with a baby. Our baby.’
‘I’m sorry,’ he said calmly.
‘Oh, well, that makes it all just fine.’ She threw a hand up in the air. ‘Do you have any idea what it was like to be with you, to be left behind by you like that? You literally disappeared out of my life overnight. Out of Seph’s. Even your parents disappeared. Who does that?’
‘I tried to explain when we met last time, but you wouldn’t give me the chance.’
‘I wouldn’t give you the chance to lie, you mean. You know what, it doesn’t matter. You made your choice.’
‘It wasn’t a choice. This isn’t a choice,’ he hissed. A little of his hair fell into his eyes and he pushed it back angrily. ‘When are you going to stop putting blame in the wrong place?’
‘Says the man who blames the fact he left on bipolar disorder.’
‘I’m not blaming it on anything. I didn’t know I was sick.’
‘Oh, please.’ Laurel clutched her handbag. ‘I don’t need to listen to this.’
‘Walk away again, if you want,’ he said as she went to leave. ‘I’m trying to tell you the truth, so you can know what really happened. So you can understand why I’m worried about Seph. Because I know you’re worried about her too.’
Laurel stopped, staring straight ahead towards her platform. She’d walked out of the café when they’d met before, full of anger, unable to listen to a word he’d wanted to say. Laurel had lived with the version of the truth she’d known for so long and had come to terms with it.
She let her hand release from the bag hanging from her shoulder. Deep down, she knew that he might well be right. She shook her head, remembering how Seph had been yesterday. Laurel had never seen her like that - so skittish and unfocused. There’d been times when Seph had been talking and Laurel had struggled to follow, as if she’d been trying to say everything she’d ever wanted to say in her entire life all at once. Laurel had seen it before with Nico and hearing him express worry about Seph was only making the possibility of her actually being sick more of a frightening reality.
Laurel turned her body to face his, but couldn’t bring herself to look at him. ‘I’m listening.’
‘When the police called to tell you I’d been found, I was in a psychiatric ward in the Royal Free Hospital,’ Nico said. ‘I’d been on one of the worst manic episodes of my life. My parents left everything to come to London while I was getting treatment.’
Ahead of her, a station assistant pointed directions to a confused looking tourist. Laurel’s jaws clenched as she took in Nico’s words, still unable to look at him as he spoke.
‘I never turned my back on Seph, not willingly. Neither did my parents. I begged them not to go back. They’ve missed Seph just as much as I did, she’s their granddaughter. But they’re my parents and they did what they needed to do for me. They did what I asked them to do at the time.’
Laurel finally turned to look at him, searching his face to see if his words could really be true. She’d always wondered how an entire family could fall off the face of the earth like they had.
She remembered his mum knocking on the door of
her parents’ house, asking if he were there with her. His car was gone and he hadn’t been seen since Laurel had taken Seph and left the night before. When he didn’t turn up the next morning, they reported him missing and less than twenty-four hours later, a police car had pulled up into the street. Even now, Laurel’s heart raced as she remembered the sheer panic that had filled her as she’d sprinted across the road. She’d prayed to a god she didn’t believe in, begging for Nico’s safety. She’d bargained with him, promising not to take Seph away, to go back and erase the arguments they’d had, to forget her growing doubts about him. It no longer mattered if they were well suited or that she’d made a mistake jumping feet first into a relationship with a man she barely knew. He was Seph’s dad, and all Laurel had wanted was for him to be safe. The news that his car had been found by the bridge had almost killed her, and all she could think was that it was her fault. She’d known something was wrong with him, but she’d still left. She’d told him to leave them alone.
They couldn’t arrange a funeral because his body hadn’t been recovered and then his parents suddenly left. The family restaurant had closed overnight. They’d given no notice and left no forwarding address. For a month, Laurel had existed in a state of suspended animation, living with her parents again, swamped with guilt, heartbroken for herself and for Seph. And then she’d received a phone call from the police that had shattered what little of herself was left. It turned out that Nico wasn’t dead after all. He was alive, but he didn’t want to be found. And there wasn’t a damned thing she could do about it.
‘Laurel, please,’ Nico said softly. He reached out and put his hand on her lower arm, his fingers curling around it ever so slightly.
She stared at it. She used to know his hands inside out. She’d looked at them as they’d covered her pregnant belly, holding Seph before she’d even drawn a breath. Laurel’s eyes swam with tears.
‘I’m sorry things turned out the way they did,’ Nico continued. ‘You have no idea how much I wish they hadn’t. I’m not using the bipolar as an excuse, but I was sick. Really, really sick, and I had been for a long time. I was probably sick when we met, maybe even before we met.’ He sighed and took his hand away. ‘The day you left was when I knew something was really wrong. And you were right. At that time it was better to leave than to stay.’
What Goes Down: An emotional must-read of love, loss and second chances Page 27
