Nate shook his head and put his hands on mine. “I’m not going anywhere unless you tell me to.”
* * *
Neither Nate nor I spoke on the way to the cemetery much later that day, and I was grateful he didn’t keep asking me how I felt. I wouldn’t have known how to put the tangled mess of emotions into proper words. I’d changed into a white T-shirt and my long, paisley-print skirt but still clutched the big straw hat to my chest.
I looked out of the car window and watched a kid on a skateboard weave his way in and out of the oncoming foot traffic. The flames on his shorts matched the color of the tightly wound spiral curls on his head, and his fluorescent green plaster cast on his left arm had a picture of what looked like a skull. A sudden pang of envy hit me in the chest, and I wished I could be that young again, oblivious to the shit-storm of complications that came with being a grown-up.
“I’ll be right here if you need me.” Nate’s words made me jump, and I looked around. We were already at the cemetery, and he got out and opened my door. “Take all the time you need.”
As I stood by Tom’s fresh grave I looked at the trinkets and flowers that had been laid down for him only hours earlier—roses and chrysanthemums, candles, teddy bears and angel ornaments. Many, many people, it seemed, had come to say goodbye.
A headstone would follow, although that would be something I wouldn’t have a say in, something else decided on without my involvement. Mum would probably choose an over-the-top and garish stone, with harp-carrying cherubs. She’d always picked what she thought was best for Tom, even when he’d disagreed.
Pushing the thoughts of my mother aside, I wanted to kneel down, feel the soft soil and let it glide through my fingers. But the cast on my leg stubbornly prevented me from bending over, so I stood there, listening to the birds and the wind in the trees, and feeling the sun on the back of my neck.
I pictured Tom next to me, immaculately dressed in black from head to toe, hands clasped, head down—serious at first glance, but in reality he’d have a smile on his face. He’d have charmed everyone who’d come to wish him farewell. No doubt he’d even have told a joke or two.
“This is it then, Tommy?” I said out loud, starting an imaginary conversation with my brother, my voice strange and eerie, as if it belonged to someone else. “You’re going forever?”
“Looks like it,” I heard him say in my head. “But you’ll be okay, Shabby.”
“No. I won’t, Tom,” I whispered. “I’ll never be okay without you. You were the glue that held everything together. You know that.”
I heard Tom’s laugh, pictured his wide grin. “Yeah, the Krazy Glue.”
“No,” I whispered. “The superglue.”
“Liam will take care of you,” he whispered back. “Although you know very well you can take care of yourself.”
I brushed the tears off my cheeks. “I can’t be with Liam. He’ll end up hating me for what I’ve done.”
“Then what about that guy?” Tom gestured with his head toward Nate. “He’s been hanging around you a lot. He seems nice.”
I looked over at Nate. “He is,” I said quietly. “And he’s the only one who understands, because he couldn’t save you either.”
NOW
ABBY
I WAS UP well before my alarm went off, my mind racing as I pulled away the covers. It was the Tuesday after Easter. The day on which Liam said he’d call. I shuddered, not from the chill in the air—I always insisted on sleeping in what Nate called subzero temperatures—but with a frisson of excitement. I looked over at Nate and immediately felt a lorry load of guilt being dumped on top of my head, making its way down my spine, causing every hair on my body to stand on end.
I crept into the bathroom, claiming it as mine for the next forty minutes. The house had an eerie stillness about it—quite the contrast in comparison to the last few days. Paul and Lynne had left the day before. Usually I would’ve been sad to see them go, but it had brought tomorrow, today, that little bit closer.
As I showered, lathering my body with thick, rich almond and cherry blossom shower cream, I wondered if Liam would get close enough to notice the fragrance on my skin, maybe even reach out and feel how soft it was. I told myself to stop. He’d said he’d call today, not that we’d meet. And even if we did meet, it was for closure, to get our heads straight and move on.
But as I carefully applied my foundation and blush, eyeliner and mascara, each brushstroke was a whisper about whom I was doing this for. Me, I repeated to myself, I’m doing this for me. It was to make myself feel good, more confident. That way, if Liam suggested anything, I’d be able to say no.
Fingers trembling slightly, I tied my hair in one of those messy updos I’d seen in a copy of Good Housekeeping, but had never bothered to try. They always made the hairstyles look effortlessly chic, and, as I finally dared to appraise myself in the mirror, I had to admit it looked good. My mother’s genes had blessed me with a distinct lack of gray hair, and I still didn’t need to resort to dying it and touching up the roots every few weeks.
Nate wasn’t in bed when I returned to our room, and I let out a sigh. I pulled on the clothes I’d carefully laid out the night before, a black dress and a pair of matching shoes with a silver heel. It was a professional outfit that hugged my figure, but it wasn’t low cut or short enough to scream adulteress at the top of its silky lungs.
Not that I had any intention of doing anything with Liam. I couldn’t. If I got on that slippery slope again, this time I’d be whizzing down all the way to the bottom, without any opportunity of stopping or the possibility of catching my breath.
“Wow,” Nate said as I walked into the kitchen.
Sarah looked up. “Yeah. That dress really suits you, Mum.”
They sat next to each other at the breakfast table. Him with his Best Daddy Ever coffee mug she’d given him when she was four, her with a half-eaten piece of toast, both sharing the newspaper. Nate had claimed the sports section, Sarah the entertainment news. They seemed more like a married couple than Nate and I at times.
“You’re not going to the gym this morning?” Nate said. When I shook my head he brushed some crumbs off his tie, folded the paper and asked, “Big meeting or something?”
“A new client’s coming in, so I thought I’d smarten up.”
Sarah stared at me, and I hoped my smile didn’t betray me. I concentrated on my breathing, a technique a teacher once taught me. Focus on your breathing, and you’ll stop blushing. It didn’t often work but, thankfully, this time the warmth didn’t seem to spread much beyond my neck.
“Are you off then?” Nate said, standing up. “I’ll walk out with you.”
“Okay.” I looked at Sarah. “What are you doing today?”
“Uh.” She fiddled with her hair. “I’m going out with Claire later. She wants to look at some clothes.” She held up a hand. “And before you say no, I’ve almost finished all of my school projects for the holidays.”
“I never even mentioned—” I quickly got my tone in check. “Have fun. Don’t forget to lock the door.”
She rolled her eyes. “I won’t.”
“It was the one time, love.” Nate got up and made his way to the door. “Two years ago.”
“I know.” I smiled at Sarah, received nothing in return. “Enjoy yourself, and be back by six thirty for dinner.”
“I will. Bye.” She saluted, then waved. “Bye, Dad.”
“Shall I pick something up for tonight?” Nate said as we walked outside.
“No, it’s fine.” I unlocked my car. “There’s stuff in the freezer.”
He handed me a brown paper bag. “I made you lunch. Chicken lettuce wraps and an apple.”
Guilt and disdain flooded me in equal measure. “That’s lovely.”
“Anything for you, sweetheart.” He kissed me softly as I swallowed the l
ump in my throat. “Anything at all.”
* * *
I misfiled three sets of reports before nine thirty, and when I checked the payroll entries I got a different result four times. My mobile sat on my desk, set to silent, but vibrating at each new message and email that arrived. I kept staring at it, willing Liam to call, then checked it again to see if it was still working.
In the words of my daughter’s generation, WTF? Here I was, a grown woman in my midforties, waiting for a guy to call. Why couldn’t I pick up the stupid thing and phone him? But, I stubbornly decided, he’d said he’d call me, and I’d be damned if I caved.
When my phone finally burst into a twinkly display of an incoming call, I didn’t move, watching it slowly inch its way across my desk, flashing and buzzing instead. After it had gone quiet I kept staring at it, and when it sprang to life again two minutes later I snatched it up.
“Hello?”
“It’s Liam.” His voice was a silky smooth scoop of raspberry sorbet on a hot summer’s day. “How are you?”
My legs trembled, so I dug my heels firmly into the industrial carpet, thankful for my sturdy office chair. “I’m okay.”
“When can we meet?”
I laughed. “Jesus, Liam. You’re not wasting any time, are you? Cutting right to the chase.”
“Sorry. I dialed a few times but hung up before it rang.” He lowered his voice. “To be perfectly honest, I’m feeling like a hormonal schoolboy. I can’t believe you still have that effect on me.” I didn’t say anything. I think I stopped breathing until he cleared his throat and said, “Abby Sanders—”
“Morris.”
“Ah.” His laugh sounded forced. “Yes. Excuse the Freudian slip.” He paused long enough for me to come up with a hundred different variations of what he was going to say next. “Mrs. Morris, may I have the pleasure of your company for coffee or lunch?”
Coffee. Of course that was the way to go. A quickish cup of decaf at Starbucks, over which we’d reminisce about our relationship, deftly avoid talking about the Cotswolds, then agree to move on with our respective partners. We’d laugh about how we would become good neighbors, how we’d help each other out with cups of sugar or a ladder to put up the Christmas decorations. We’d end the conversation with a hug that felt more like a squeeze from a relative than an embrace from a former lover.
Coffee. Definitely coffee.
“Lunch,” I said. “Lunch would be nice.”
“Oh, I—”
“Unless you don’t want to?”
“Lunch would be great, Abby, I didn’t think you’d... Anyway... Want to choose where? I’m at the Market Square office today.”
“Really? I’m on Harmony. Just around the corner.” Neither of us spoke until I said, “How about Incognito?” I almost laughed at the implication, so I quickly added, “It’s always busy at lunchtime. Can you meet at eleven thirty?” I gave him the address, heard him look it up on the PC.
“Incognito. Looks good. But...isn’t it a bit close to your office?”
“Why?”
“What if someone sees us?” he said quietly.
“Liam, we’re neighbors. We’re having lunch. No big deal, right?”
“Right.” He paused again. “I’ll see you later.”
We’re having lunch, I told myself again, trying not to think of Nate and everything he’d ever done for me. For us. “It’s just lunch,” I whispered. Perhaps if I’d repeated it often enough, it might actually have been true.
NOW
NANCY
LIAM HAD LEFT for work early, evidently unable to wait to get out of the house. Away from me.
Zac was probably still in bed, too. My hangover had spoiled the rest of the long weekend, and I really didn’t fancy continuing the renovations. I wanted to lie around, read a book and dig into some chocolate. I’d be sure to regret it later—especially when I stepped on the scales. I’d laughed with Lynne Saturday night, joking about how I’d lost at least forty kilos.
“Forty?” she’d said, her eyes wide with admiration. “Wow, good for you.”
“Yeah. Shame it was the same two kilos twenty times.” We’d dissolved into fits of giggles again. Lynne was a riot, her sense of humor as dark as mine, and we’d spent a lot of the evening talking. I didn’t often click with women. Despite the cries of “Sisterhood Unite,” I felt we could be despicable toward each other, and because of that I often preferred the company of men. But Lynne was different, and I imagined we’d have become great friends if they’d lived close enough. It was a shame Nate had married Abby instead of Lynne.
My pulse throbbed as I recalled the events of Saturday night. I’d had a cunning plan, taken extra time on my hair to ensure it fell in the softest curls. I’d applied just the right amount of makeup, and had worn the red wraparound dress I knew Liam loved. By the end of the evening I wanted him on his knees, begging me to take it off, which I would, but only after he’d begged again.
Despite looking better than I had in months, and even though I’d flirted with Nate all night, touching his arm and leaning forward when I dropped my napkin on the floor twice, neither he nor Liam appeared to notice. Damn it, couldn’t Liam see what was right in front of his nose? Had I become that much of a routine to him, such a sure thing? When, exactly, had that happened?
I’d wondered if Abby would pick up on my antics, maybe look at me with raised eyebrows, send me a firm but friendly message to back off her husband, but she was far too distracted by Zac and Sarah, watching them like an overprotective lioness.
I didn’t blame her. I was curious about what the two of them were up to, but I got the feeling she did it in the spirit of protecting Sarah. From what, I wasn’t sure. Maybe she believed Sarah was too precious to go out with Zac. That thought pissed me off because Liam and I raised him to be a gentleman. Besides, kids were kids. At their age they were bound to experiment and try things—Lord knows I certainly had, and I’d been younger than him.
I stretched out, threw the covers back and padded to the bathroom. As I showered, I thought about Abby’s story of Sarah’s birth—which could have explained her wanting to protect her from everything—and how Nate had looked at her. His face had been full of love, tenderness, adoration. As if she were the most important human being in the world. And she was, to him, obviously, although exactly why eluded me. She was so distant and quiet, pretty but boring. Maybe she was great in bed although I couldn’t imagine it. Wasn’t she too cold for that?
In any event, Nate’s affection toward her reminded me of when I watched romantic comedies, or read love stories. I wanted that. I wanted Liam to worship me like Nate worshiped Abby. Had Liam ever looked at me that way? I wasn’t sure—if he had, it was a long time ago.
Abby had been pretty dismissive of Nate. It made me think she didn’t deserve him, not really. If I had that kind of adulation thrown at my feet I’d at the very least have acknowledged it. I shook my head. Just like Liam, Abby didn’t see how lucky she was.
I finished showering and looked at myself in the mirror, noticing the fine lines that had appeared around my eyes, as if from nowhere. I’d barely noticed the slow changes; I’d been so busy over the last seventeen years, looking after Zac, bending myself into a pretzel for Liam, giving up everything to become the dutiful housewife and mother. Not that Liam had ever put me under any pressure to do so. No, my personality had slowly been eroded entirely of my own accord.
“I need to feel alive again,” I said to my reflection. “I deserve to feel alive again.”
As I lathered my body in rich, sweet-smelling lotion I decided I would do whatever was necessary to be lusted over like the heroines in the novels I read. Fought for like the stars in the Hollywood movies.
And I decided if Liam wouldn’t extend me that courtesy, then someone else would instead...
NOW
ABBY
&n
bsp; BY THE TIME I’d walked from the office and got halfway to Incognito to meet Liam, my dress had grabbed hold of my sweaty back, my shoes felt like my feet had grown two sizes and my relaxed updo threatened to become a pathetic down-do any second. I cursed myself for getting dressed up, then swore at the foggy humidity, too. At least it had stopped raining for the time being.
What the hell had I been thinking? My usual combination of black trousers and a white shirt would have been perfectly fine, not to mention my trusty court shoes. It was penance, that’s what it was. Payback for skulking around, going off to meet an ex-lover while our respective spouses went happily and unsuspectingly about their day.
As I turned the corner and got closer to the restaurant, my heart made its way up my throat with every step I took. I wiped my palms on my dress and fussed with my hair for the fourth time in thirty seconds.
I hadn’t felt like this since Liam and I’d been going out together. It had always been this way during the six months we’d dated, and since then I’d almost convinced myself it was only because we’d been young and so carefree. But now, twenty plus years later, it felt exactly the same. If anything, it was more intense. The fluttering in the pit of my stomach, the giddy light-headedness, a smile I couldn’t quash, not even if I tried for a million years. The anticipation of seeing him had never disappeared; it had merely been buried under years of absence.
My head was screaming at me to turn back. But like an unyielding judge, my heart overruled my brain and resolutely made my feet carry me forward instead. And I kept telling myself we’d have lunch, clear the air and that would be it. Lunch. Clear air. Over.
But then there he was. And as I looked at Liam I wanted time to stand still so I could observe him for a while. He stood under Incognito’s black-and-gold awning, his gray jacket casually slung over his shoulder, and his shirt so white it could have starred in an OxiClean commercial. He spotted me and raised a hand. His gaze didn’t waver as he watched me approach, and I barely managed to stop myself from wiping my hands on my dress again. He leaned toward me when I reached him, and kissed me gently on the cheek.
The Neighbors Page 16
