A Walk In The Park

by Jill Mansell

  So Harry just stood there feeling helpless, listening to the racking sobs, increasingly torn. Finally he went through to the bathroom and returned with a silver box of tissues. Pulling out a handful, he passed them to Enjay and gingerly patted him on the arm.

  ‘Here. Sorry. It’s OK.’

  Enjay shook his head. ‘I suppose you’re disgusted with me.’

  ‘Don’t even say that.’ If only he knew.

  ‘You just touched me like I’ve got some infectious disease, man.’

  Harry looked at him. ‘That’s because I thought you wouldn’t want to be touched.’

  ‘Oh God, my life is a nightmare.’ Wiping his eyes, Enjay said, ‘You can’t begin to understand how this feels.’

  Harry exhaled, steadying himself. Finally he heard himself utter the words he’d never thought he’d say. ‘Actually, I think I can.’

  Running the shop on her own had been keeping Lara busy. But how could she complain when it had been her idea that Don should take a holiday? He was stressed and unhappy, in need of a break. She’d suggested he get away for a few days and to her surprise he had agreed. On Monday morning he’d flown out to the Algarve to join Wilhelmina, his ardent admirer, at her villa overlooking the sea in Albufeira.

  ‘She’ll be after you,’ Lara had warned. ‘She’ll have designs on your body.’

  Don had shaken his head. ‘I’ve already told her I’m too ill for any of that malarkey. I’m there for rest and recuperation, that’s all.’

  And much as she loved him, Lara had found the first half of his week away oddly restful. Don’s absence allowed her to relax and feel guilt-free. They both knew it was illogical and Don would never dream of saying as much out loud, but she was aware all the same that he felt she’d let him down. His faith in her had been irretrievably shaken. Before, she’d always been his insurance, his lucky charm. If the unthinkable were to happen, he had her there to save the day and keep him alive.

  But since James, all that had changed. Don felt, she knew, that she could no longer be trusted to do whatever needed to be done. She’d failed in her mission and he no longer had confidence in her. Which in turn caused her to feel insidious creeping waves of guilt. As if it hadn’t been bad enough berating herself for not being able to save James’s life, she now had to feel not good enough in her boss’s critical eyes too.

  No wonder the last week, while he’d been over in Portugal, had felt like a holiday for them both.

  Oh dear, poor Don, that was hardly fair, was it?

  At three o’clock her heart did its habitual leap as the buzzer went and she saw Flynn on the other side of the glass. She’d tried so hard to get it under control but like an overexcited puppy, it refused to be sensible and calm down.

  Flynn went to open the door and Lara buzzed him in. She knew he’d just got back from visiting a family who owned a vineyard in Languedoc-Roussillon.

  ‘Hey, did you have a good trip?’

  ‘I did.’ He was gazing into her eyes, clearly eager to share some plan or other. ‘Listen, I’ve had an idea and I wanted to run it by you before saying anything to Gigi. She’s never been skiing.’

  ‘I know.’ Duh. ‘Me neither.’

  ‘So I was wondering about the first week in January, once all the chaos of Christmas and New Year is out of the way. A week, maybe ten days if we can swing it, in Val-d’Isère. What d’you think? Would she enjoy that?’

  ‘I think she’d love it.’ Lara beamed; how fantastic. ‘And she’d be unstoppable too. You’d have your work cut out keeping her off the black runs.’

  ‘I can imagine.’ He was smiling too. ‘So anyway, you’re OK with that, are you? Me and Gigi taking off on a skiing holiday?’

  Just for a moment, when he’d started talking about the first week in January, Lara had thought she was included, that the three of them might all be heading off together. But he hadn’t meant that at all. Anyway, it was probably just as well.

  ‘Of course I’m OK with it. Why would I mind? You’ll have an amazing time throwing yourselves down mountains. Really, she’ll be thrilled.’

  ‘Good. I’ll book a chalet and get the flights organised.’ Flynn paused for a moment then said, ‘You know what would make it even better? If you came along with us.’

  Snow, après-ski, magnificent mountains! A gingerbread-house chalet, fabulous restaurants and vin chaud!

  And more temptation than she could reasonably be expected to handle, in the form of Flynn Erskine.

  Lara conjured up a series of mental images, each more adrenalin-pumping than the last. Basically, it was hard enough resisting him here in Bath. Being on holiday in Val-d’Isère would only make things a thousand times worse.

  She knew her limits.

  ‘Well, this is encouraging.’ Flynn raised a playful eyebrow at the hesitation. ‘Does this mean you’re actually considering saying yes?’

  Do the right thing.

  Ooh no, go on, do the wrong thing!

  And what would it lead to, hmm? Don’t pretend you don’t know the answer to that question.

  ‘You two go.’ Lara shook her head; it was the only way. ‘Skiing’s not my thing. I’d only end up breaking my legs.’

  ‘But you don’t have to—’

  ‘And Don needs me here,’ she went on firmly. ‘Really, thanks for the offer, but you and Gigi’ll have a brilliant time without me.’

  ‘Lara.’ His expression was unreadable. ‘You know why I want you to come too. You and me . . . are you ever going to give us a chance?’ As Flynn said it, he reached for her hand; instinctively, heart hammering, she flinched and pulled it away.

  ‘No.’ There, said it. Shaking her head, Lara murmured, ‘No, it’s never going to happen.’

  ‘OK.’ Another pause. ‘And you’re not going to change your mind?’

  Oh God, oh God. ‘No.’

  ‘Right.’ Flynn moved back a fraction. ‘In that case you can relax, I won’t be asking you again. So you don’t need to worry. From now on, I’ll leave you alone.’

  Wow, where had that come from? Lara nodded, inwardly taken aback, externally cool. ‘OK. Fine. Well, thanks for that.’

  ‘No problem. I’m sure you’re relieved to hear it. Hopefully it’ll be easier for both of us.’ Flynn gave her another long enigmatic look, then turned to leave. ‘Anyway, good news about the skiing. I’ll let Gigi know.’

  It was Saturday, bonfire night, and the crowds had poured into the Rec, home of Bath Rugby Club, for the city’s biggest firework display. And it truly was a spectacular sight; everyone was gazing up, enthralled, as explosions of colour like giant chrysanthemums burst out of nowhere to fill the night sky.

  Next to her Gigi was rapt, but Lara was finding it hard to concentrate on the fireworks. On the way into the Rec she’d seen something that made no sense at all. Two small boys wrapped up against the cold in stripy bobble hats and puffed-up coats had been play-fighting with each other, using glowsticks as their weapons of choice. Inevitably one of them ended up getting jabbed in the head and, letting out a howl of protest, launched himself at his brother. The tussle had been broken up by an elegant lady in a fur Cossack hat, presumably their grandmother. The next moment, getting a clearer look at the woman’s face, Lara had done a double-take and realised it was in fact Wilhelmina.

  As in, Wilhelmina the glamorous widow with whom Don was meant to be holidaying in the Algarve . . .

  Then the crowds shifted and Wilhelmina and her small charges disappeared from view, leaving Lara to puzzle over what she could possibly be doing here in Bath.

  Once the fireworks reached their dazzling, noisy crescendo and concluded with an ear-splitting finale, everyone applauded then began to move towards the exits.

  ‘I’m hungry.’ Lara linked her arm through Gigi’s and said, ‘Can you smell sausages? Shall we find out where they’re selling hot dogs or give that new Mexican place a try?’

  Gigi’s nose was pink with cold, her breath clouding in front of her as she rubbed her hands t
ogether. ‘Brrr, I can’t feel my fingers. The thing is, Mum, I’m meeting Dad at Aqua in twenty minutes, so we’re going to be eating there. Sorry.’

  ‘Oh right, I didn’t realise. Darling, that’s fine, no problem at all. I’ll grab a hot dog on the way home.’

  ‘You’re sure you don’t mind?’

  ‘Why would I mind you having dinner with your dad?’

  Gigi hesitated and blew on her hands again. Avoiding Lara’s gaze she said, ‘Well, it’s not just me and Dad . . .’

  Clannnngggggg went the penny as it dropped.

  As they left the rugby ground, Lara spotted Wilhelmina again ahead of them, and insinuated her way through the crowds until she caught up with her.

  ‘Hello!’

  With a grandson clutched in each leather-gloved hand, Wilhelmina recognised her and said cheerily, ‘Oh hi, darling. How’s Don? Is he here too?’

  Hmm.

  ‘No, he isn’t, he’s gone on holiday for a few days,’ Lara said casually. ‘For some reason I thought you were away this week too, staying at your villa in Portugal.’

  ‘Me? No, my daughter’s expecting her third child soon, so I’m not going anywhere. Staying right here doing Granny duty, eh boys?’ She swung their arms cheerfully. ‘While Mummy stays at home and gets some rest.’

  ‘Mummy’s having a baby.’ The younger grandson looked mournful. ‘She’s really fat.’

  ‘We wanted a meerkat,’ grumbled his brother. ‘But we’ve got to have a sister instead.’

  ‘Babies are really boring.’

  ‘And stinky.’

  ‘Stop it, you two, she won’t be boring for long and you’re going to love her to bits.’ Rolling her eyes, Wilhelmina said, ‘Come along then, boys, let’s get you home.’ She smiled a little wistfully at Lara. ‘Give my love to Don when you see him. Who’s he gone on holiday with, do you know?’

  Poor lonely widowed Wilhelmina. Poor allegedly lonely Don.

  Lara said, ‘No idea, he didn’t tell me.’

  ‘Oh well.’ Another brave shrug. ‘So long as he has a nice time. Bye.’

  Together Lara and Gigi made their way across Pulteney Bridge, up Northgate Street and along the Walcot Loop Road.

  ‘Mum, you don’t need to walk with me. It’s out of your way.’

  ‘No problem, it’s fine. I’m in the mood for a walk and I’d rather know you’re safe. So . . . tell me about this new girlfriend of your dad’s, then.’ The subject had been buzzing around inside Lara’s head like an angry wasp since Gigi had first mentioned it. Now, broaching it aloud for the first time, Lara kept her tone super-casual. ‘How long’s it been going on?’

  ‘Only a couple of weeks, I think. He was running a private wine-tasting at a house on the Royal Crescent and she was one of the guests.’

  ‘What’s her name?’

  ‘Annabel.’

  ‘Annabel.’ Lara didn’t know what kind of name she’d been expecting, but it hadn’t been that. What did an Annabel look like? Was she a cool blonde? Or did she have smouldering gypsy eyes and wild curly hair? What kind of clothes would she wear? ‘And he just . . . asked her out, did he? At the wine-tasting?’

  ‘No idea,’ Gigi said patiently. ‘He’s my dad, I’m not going to ask for all the gory details, am I?’

  They reached Aqua on Walcot Street and Gigi gave her a kiss. ‘Bye then. They’ll be waiting for me at the bar. I’ll see you later, Mum.’

  ‘You know what? It’s going to look really unfriendly if I leave you here without even popping in.’ Lara heard the words come tumbling out; the timing might not be great but she couldn’t not do it. ‘I’d hate Flynn to think I was being rude.’

  ‘Oh but—’

  ‘No, I should.’ She nodded vigorously at Gigi. ‘I’ll just come in and say hello, then whiz off again. It’s only polite.’

  The restaurant was busy, buzzy and full of life but Lara spotted them instantly. There they were, waiting over at the bar. Flynn was saying something to Annabel, who burst out laughing so it must have been funny.

  Unless they’re laughing about me . . .

  OK, of course they weren’t doing that. Anyway, no time for a crisis of confidence, Gigi was already leading her over.

  ‘Hey, sweetheart.’ Flynn greeted Gigi with a kiss on the cheek. ‘This is Annabel. Annabel, meet my beautiful daughter.’ He paused while they shook hands before adding, ‘And this is Lara, Gigi’s mum.’

  ‘Hello!’ Keen to show how friendly she was, Lara heard herself using too many exclamation marks. ‘Don’t worry, not gatecrashing! Just wanted to make sure Gigi wasn’t going to be stood up!’

  ‘She knew we’d be here,’ said Flynn. ‘I wouldn’t stand her up.’

  ‘Anyway, hi.’ Annabel, who appeared to be in her mid-twenties, beamed and shook Lara’s hand. ‘I’m Annabel. Lovely to meet you. Are you joining us for dinner?’

  ‘Ooh, well . . .’

  ‘No,’ said Flynn and Gigi simultaneously.

  Oh.

  ‘OK, well at least stay for a drink.’ Signalling to one of the barmen, Annabel claimed two more glasses and reached for the already opened bottle on ice. ‘This is delicious, you must try it.’

  Goodness, she was pretty. Her hair, black and straight and cut in a geometric bob, was as shiny as glass. Her eyes were brown, her mouth a perfect pink rosebud and she had the neatest little nose Lara had ever seen. Plus, she was wearing a dove-grey body-con dress that screamed class. It also screamed, ‘Look at me, I’m a size eight, aren’t I chic, aren’t I fabulous, aren’t I dinky?’

  She was also right about the wine, which tasted amazing. Lara nodded in appreciation and said, ‘So you’re a wine connoisseur too?’

  ‘Hardly.’ Annabel pulled a face. ‘Just putting on a show to impress Mr Expert here. I’m more of a pint-of-lager girl, to be honest.’

  Oh Lord, pretty and nice.

  ‘Lager?’ Gigi looked impressed.

  ‘When you’re a med student,’ Annabel confided, ‘it’s pretty much a rite of passage.’

  Lara did an inner double-take. ‘You’re a medical student?’

  ‘Was, years ago. I’m working as a neurosurgical registrar now. At Frenchay Hospital, in Bristol.’

  ‘Cool,’ said Gigi. ‘So basically you’re, like, a brain surgeon.’

  ‘I am.’ Annabel’s eyes sparkled.

  ‘You don’t look old enough though.’

  ‘I promise you I am. I’m absolutely ancient.’ Clutching Gigi’s arm she leaned towards her and stage-whispered, ‘Thirty-three.’

  ‘Wow.’ Gigi boggled. ‘Mum’s only thirty-five and you look loads younger than her.’

  Shin-kicking would probably be regarded as out of order. Which was a shame. Maybe she’d do it later when they were at home.

  ‘Hello.’ The charming maitre d’ approached them. ‘Just to let you know, your table’s ready if you’d like to come through.’ He added inquiringly, ‘We had you down as a three, but if you want us to add an extra place . . . ?’

  The ensuing expectant pause was broken by the sound of Lara’s stomach rumbling. Like a begging dog.

  ‘I don’t think so.’ Flynn was shaking his head.

  ‘No,’ Gigi chimed in. ‘She has to go now, don’t you, Mum?’

  Apparently so. ‘Yes I do. But thanks anyway.’ Lara smiled at the maitre d’, the only person there who apparently wanted her to stay.

  ‘It was lovely to meet you.’ Annabel’s glossy hair swung as she said cheerily, ‘See you again soon!’

  Flynn and Annabel headed off with the maitre d’ and Gigi accompanied Lara to the door.

  ‘I could have stayed,’ Lara protested.

  ‘I know, but then it’d be like a tennis match. You and me versus the two of them. That’s how it would feel, anyway. And Annabel seems really nice. I just want to get to know her.’

  ‘Why? Because she’s a brain surgeon and looks so much younger than me?’ The dig slipped out but Lara needn’t have worried; Gigi didn’t even notice.
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  ‘Well, sort of. But it’s an interesting job, isn’t it? Plus, I’ve never seen Dad with a girlfriend before. And if she ends up marrying him, she’ll be my stepmother!’ Gigi pulled an oh-wow face, blithely oblivious to the clenching in the pit of Lara’s stomach. ‘Imagine that!’

  Lara had already opened up the shop on Tuesday morning when Don appeared, as smartly dressed and with his hair as carefully gelled as ever, but with a surprising lack of suntan to show for his holiday in the Algarve.

  Alleged holiday.

  ‘Hi,’ she greeted him. ‘Fab time?’

  ‘Wonderful.’ Don beamed.

  ‘You should have called me last night. I could have come and picked you and Wilhelmina up from the airport.’

  He shook his head. ‘It was fine, we got a cab.’

  ‘What was the weather like?’

  He glanced self-consciously at his pale hands. ‘Not brilliant, to be honest. Quite cloudy.’

  ‘That’s so weird.’ Lara looked puzzled. ‘Because every time I looked on the internet it said hot and sunny.’

  Don flushed and adjusted his tie, playing for time. She allowed the awkward silence to lengthen.

  Finally he said, ‘Oh God. You know, don’t you?’

  Slowly, Marple-ishly, Lara nodded. ‘Yes, Don. I do.’

  ‘I can’t believe it. She said you would.’

  ‘She was right.’

  He half-smiled. ‘Actually, she called you a witch.’

  ‘Charming. I wasn’t stalking her, you know. All I did was bump into her at the Rec.’

  Don was visibly taken aback. ‘Hang on, what? Who are you talking about?’

  Lara blinked. ‘Why? Who are you talking about?’

  His eyebrows were up. ‘You bumped into Wilhelmina?’

  ‘Yes! At the firework display! That’s how I knew you weren’t staying with her in Portugal. But I still thought that’s where you’d gone . . . until now.’ Lara looked pointedly at his untanned face and hands. ‘Except I still don’t understand why you’d need to lie about it. I mean, I was chatting to Nettie on the phone last night and she said you’d told her how much you were looking forward to . . . to . . . going on holiday . . .’ her voice faltered and trailed off as she saw Don’s expression change, ‘to . . . the Algarve. Oh God, I get it now! This is like one of those dreams where nothing makes sense and everything gets weirder and weirder! You weren’t abroad, were you? You’ve actually been staying in Keswick with Nettie! But why would you keep it a secret?’ She clapped her hands to her face like Kevin in Home Alone and let out a shriek of realisation. ‘Oh my GIDDY AUNT, I don’t believe it!’