‘What do you mean, what offer?’
Then despite her sobbing and pleading, Ian raced down the steps and out of the front door. He’d had four large glasses of wine but still he zapped open his car and drove away whilst Stel stood in the doorway with tears coursing down her face.
Why did she have to mention Al? Why couldn’t she just have had sex with him and then gone to sleep? It wasn’t as if it would have been the first time she’d laid back and thought of England.
She cried herself to sleep like a distraught teenager, replaying the night in her head where she kept her mouth shut and had sex and a nice cuddle and then she woke up still in a relationship.
Chapter 58
Stel was late for work because it took her half an hour to get rid of the puffiness under her eyes which had resulted from a night of little sleep. She plastered on a smile at the hospice door, marched in wearing the outfit that Ian said she looked her best in and hoped she could hold it all together. She just wanted to see him and tell him she was sorry. She couldn’t bear it if he went off with Meredith. What was it he’d said, that she’d ‘made him an offer’?
‘Have you seen . . . Ian this morning?’ she asked Maria casually, when the nurse passed by the desk.
‘Meredith was chatting him up in the kitchen five minutes ago,’ laughed Maria, not realising the effect her words would have on Stel. ‘You want to watch that minx.’
Stel’s heart plummeted right down to her toes.
‘I’ll tell him you’re looking for him, shall I?’ said Maria.
‘Please,’ said Stel, the smile shaky on her lips.
It was lunchtime before Stel managed to get a break on that very busy morning, to learn that Ian was taking his lunch at the pub. With Meredith.
*
Viv’s arm was extended, food in her hand. Ursula was in one corner of her aviary, Viv in the diagonal opposite. There was an impasse though; nothing was happening.
‘What do I do? She’s not coming,’ said Viv.
‘Whistle,’ said Heath.
‘I can’t whistle.’
‘Oh for goodness sake just try. She needs some encouragement.’
Viv put her lips together and blew.
‘That’s pathetic,’ said Heath.
‘I told you I couldn’t.’
‘Good grief, woman. Why the hell did this beautiful bird pick you?’
Viv chuckled and Ursula’s head cocked to the side.
‘She can recognise your voice. Try again.’
Viv blew. It was easier if she made a staccato sound. ‘Ursula. Phew-phew-phew-phew-phew.’
After a few whistling attempts, Ursula eventually responded. Her wings lifted as her feet pushed off from the branch. For a moment the feathers fanned behind her like an angel’s. Her eyes fixed forward and she dropped down with a bump on Viv’s glove, beak to the meat, pulling it, gulping.
‘Try walking slowly,’ said Heath, advising from outside.
‘She weighs a ton,’ replied Viv with a grin, putting one foot slowly forward in front of the other.
‘That’s it, that’s it,’ said Heath, excitement rich in his voice. ‘She’s eaten. She has no reason to stay on your glove other than because she wants to.’
Viv did a full lap of the aviary and Ursula only flew off when Viv started to move too fast.
‘I just don’t get it,’ said Heath, scratching his head. ‘The most awkward, ridiculous, arrogant bird in the place . . .’
‘What about Ursula?’ Viv barked with laughter.
‘Her as well,’ replied Heath, opening the door for her. Viv stretched her back. It was aching.
‘Armstrong hurt you, didn’t he?’ asked Heath.
‘Not as much as Antonia Leighton hurt him,’ said Viv. He hadn’t come that morning to help them. He was in one of his dark places. In fact, there was a depression that seemed to have settled over them all since Antonia’s visit. A stagnant weight that even chased off the lovely mist.
The hawks and the eagles were in the arena, sitting on perches in the sun.
‘Come on, Viv, help me,’ said Heath. He was all too aware that the events of the weekend had left them under a cloud. ‘There is only one way to cheer things up on a miserable day. Bathtime.’
There were a stack of deep trays at the side of Frank’s aviary. Heath dragged them out, distributed one next to each bird. They began squawking and dipping.
‘They know what’s coming. Get one of the hosepipes, Viv, and fill them up with water.’
Viv unwound the pipe and started to fill up the tray at the side of Heath’s hawk Sistine. She tried to claw the water, stamping in the stream, pushing her head into it.
‘They love this,’ replied Heath. ‘Far more than owls, who are notorious for being scruffy sods.’
‘Don’t you call my girl a scruffy sod,’ said Viv and flicked the hosepipe towards him.
‘Oy,’ he said and laughed.
When all the baths had been filled, Viv sat on the bench and watched the floorshow. The birds loved the water, tossing it over their heads, settling their beautiful feathers into it, savouring the cool respite from the warmth of the day.
Viv recalled that she had just referred to Ursula as my girl. The bird might have started bonding with her, but had Viv not realised how much she was bonding with Ursula? She was growing close to them all: Geraldine, Armstrong, Wonk, Bertie, the horses . . . She looked across at Heath holding the hosepipe so that Sistine could play in the spray and she wished she could stay in this beautiful bubble of an afternoon where the world was good to this place and the people and the animals that lived here. Heath could be stroppy and bossy and rude but he was fundamentally a good man, a kind man, a gentle man. Unfortunately, she had bonded with him too.
*
Stel was operating on two levels that day. On the surface she was performing her duties, directing people to where they needed to go, answering phone calls. She was the model of efficiency. Underneath was chaos, a mess of insecurities, jealousies, rage and sorrow. And as much as she went over the events of the previous evening, she could not for the life of her work out why the situation had flared up like it had. It had to be because she admitted to thinking about Al whilst Ian was touching her. Did he think she was trying to make him jealous? Was he hurt because she didn’t want to have sex with him? Annoyed with himself that he had invested too much too soon in their relationship? Her brain was telling her that these were signs that he liked her a lot. So then why was he avoiding her and making no secret of the fact that he had taken Meredith out?
Five o’clock could not come fast enough. But beyond that yawned an evening of loneliness and mental torture. Internally she was black and blue from beating herself up, for being the catalyst of her own misfortune. What woman starts talking about one man when she’s having sex with another? No wonder he was cross.
As she was about to climb into her car, someone came up behind her and placed a hand over her eyes.
‘Guess who,’ said a dear, familiar voice which didn’t only flood her earholes but filled her whole body with a wildly disproportionate joy. She turned round and there stood Ian, a big bunch of flowers in his hand.
‘I didn’t know where the florists were round here, so Meredith volunteered to show me where the best one was at lunchtime.’
So that’s why they’d gone out. Stel burst into happy tears.
‘What the hell are you crying for, Stelly?’ chuckled Ian. ‘I tell you, that Meredith would have me if I let her. But I made it clear, there’s only one lass I fancy.’
‘Did you?’ She would have liked to have seen Meredith’s face when he said that.
‘Stelly, I’ve been thinking. About us.’
‘Me too. All day. I am so sorr—’
‘Shhh.’ He placed a finger over her lips. ‘I love you. I want us to live together but if I’m freaking you out by moving so fast, let’s call it a trial period. If it doesn’t work, I’ll move out, but I’ll warn you, I’m an all or nothing
guy. We do this or finish. So what’s it to be?’
Stel didn’t want to finish, especially if Meredith was waiting to jump into her shoes. If it didn’t work out, they’d have to split up, but she couldn’t think long term, only about now, the time that mattered and governed her emotions. She was so relieved that he still wanted her, she thought she’d blown it and so she nodded.
‘I love you,’ said Ian, throwing his arms around her. ‘I’ll come over at seven with a suitcase. Let’s do this. We could have an amazing life together.’
‘Let’s do this,’ echoed Stel, pushing down all those little anxieties that were fast-sprouting like cress-seeds on speed in her head.
Chapter 59
Caro was just locking up her shop when she heard her mobile phone ringing. She had the shock of her life when she saw on the screen that it was Gaynor calling. Gaynor hadn’t called her for months. She pressed connect, lifted it to her ear and said cheerfully, ‘Hello, Mrs. This is a nice surprise.’
‘It’s not Gaynor,’ said an older woman’s voice. ‘It’s Paula, her mum. Look, she doesn’t know I’m doing this but she’s mentioned your name to me in the past and I think she needs her friends at a time like this.’ Then Gaynor’s mum relayed the awful news that Mick Pollock had died.
*
Linda, Caro and Stel were outside Gaynor’s door within the half-hour. Paula greeted them with a sad smile and led them through to the lounge where Gaynor was slumped on her French sofa with a fleecy blanket wrapped around her. A cup of coffee and a sandwich sat on a table at the side of her, neither touched.
‘Gaynor, love, your friends have come to see you,’ said Paula, her voice soft and lilting as if she were speaking to a child and not a fifty-three-year-old woman.
Gaynor lifted her head. Her Sophia Loren big brown eyes were slits from crying on and off for a day and a half.
‘You sit down,’ fussed Paula to the group. ‘I’ll make us all a nice cup of tea.’
‘Oh, Gay . . .’ began Linda, but couldn’t even finish her name. She enveloped Gaynor in a hug and kissed her cheek. ‘Oh love.’
The others followed suit, whispering in her ear that they were there for her, that they were so sorry.
Gaynor folded up the blanket and placed it on the back of the sofa, as if she didn’t want to be seen as vulnerable. She patted her hair, trying to plump some volume into it. ‘I must look a mess,’ she said.
‘You never look a mess,’ said Stel.
‘Why on earth didn’t you ring us?’ said Caro.
Gaynor shrugged in an ‘I don’t know’ way. ‘I can’t find out where he is,’ she said, the words scraping on her throat. ‘That bitch de Niro wants to keep me away from the funeral.’
‘You’re joking,’ said Linda. ‘She can’t do that. Can she?’
Caro shook her head in annoyance and disbelief. ‘When did it happen . . .?’
‘Friday apparently. Heart attack. I found out yesterday. Mick’s solicitor sent me a letter.’
‘A letter?’ Stel was incensed.
‘I’d changed all my numbers,’ said Caro. ‘They didn’t know how to get hold of me.’
‘One of them could have bloody knocked on the door,’ called Paula as she walked in with a tray of china teacups and saucers. Gaynor didn’t have mugs.
‘Mick wrote a new will and named her next of kin.’
‘What about Leanne? She’s got a right to know where her father’s body is.’ Caro was furious for her.
‘Our Leanne came up last night but she had to go back this morning,’ said Paula, with an involuntary sniff of annoyance.
‘I loved him so much that I hated him,’ croaked Gaynor. The pain in her heart was so fierce it was almost a physical one. She couldn’t believe she could survive it for much longer.
‘It’s so wrong,’ sighed Paula, pouring tea from an ornate teapot and inviting everyone to help themselves to milk and sugar. ‘But he has left our Gaynor financially secure so he must have still had some feelings for her, mustn’t he? But that trollop won’t let her go to her own husband’s funeral. Oh if I could get my hands on her, I tell you . . .’
Caro looked over at Gaynor. She might have been broken into bits by Mick’s death but Danira Bellfield’s thoughtlessness was no small thing at the side of it.
‘I know what music he would have wanted,’ said Gaynor, letting tears drip down her cheeks unchecked. ‘I know what words he would have liked. Thirty years I was with him. We have a child together. How can she not let me say goodbye to him? He was the love of my life.’
*
Eamonn was at home by the time Caro got back and she filled him in on where she had been and why. He poured her a glass of wine as they talked at the dining table.
‘I’m going to see Danira first thing in the morning,’ she said.
‘Caro . . .’ There was a warning appeal in his voice.
‘Eamonn. It’s the right thing to do, you know it is.’
Eamonn Richmond heard that tone in his wife’s voice, the one that wouldn’t brook any argument. He had married a good woman and he had no reason to argue when she was adamant that she was right. He squeezed her hand. And she knew that he understood.
Chapter 60
When Stel pulled up outside her house, Ian was already there, sitting outside in his car. He’d come early. He got out and dragged two suitcases roughly out of his boot, a strained smile on his face.
‘I thought you’d be in cooking tea on this special night,’ he said.
‘I had an emergency,’ replied Stel.
‘An emergency?’ He laughed, as if he didn’t believe her.
‘Yes. A friend’s husband died,’ she said.
‘I’ll need a key,’ said Ian, ignoring her words. ‘I’ve brought us a bottle of Champagne to celebrate. Hurry up, Stelly, these are heavy.’
Stel was piqued at his insensitivity. Even if he didn’t know her friend, she thought he might have asked about her. She saw Al’s head pop into his front window for a brief second and knew that he must have seen Ian and his suitcases. He would be thinking, What the hell is she doing? Again.
What the hell was she doing? Why was she letting a man whom she first went out with less than a fortnight ago move in? This wasn’t her best idea.
She really should say something, slow all this down. She opened her mouth to try. He opened his at the same time.
‘I’ll bring the rest round tomorrow. There’s not much because I’m leaving the furniture in. Pal of mine has just split up from his wife and so it’s a perfect arrangement. I’ve just left him happy as Larry watching my TV.’
‘Already?’ Stel squeaked.
‘Yep. He can’t back out now, it’s binding. Rent book signed and first month paid up-front, hence the Champagne. Let’s get it on ice and drink it in bed.’
It was a rough Cava and it hadn’t had the chance to cool properly. It made Stel feel slightly sick.
Chapter 61
Stel was woken up by the weight of Ian’s arm swinging over her body and coming to rest over her neck. Her eyes snapped open to her alarm clock reading 5.36 a.m. and beyond, Ian’s clothes hanging over the door of the wardrobe because there was no room inside for them.
What have you done? she asked herself. How could she have been so stupid?
She liked Ian but she hadn’t wanted to move this fast. And she couldn’t change her mind because now someone else was living in his house.
I thought he was having loads of work done to it? That’s why he wouldn’t invite you round.
She groped around in her brain trying to recall if that’s what he’d said. Yes, she was sure of it. So he had been lying about that, as she suspected.
Outside she heard Al’s motorbike start up. He was on an early one this morning, she thought. She suddenly longed for the life she had just a few weeks ago: being on the best terms with Al, Viv in the room across the landing and sole occupancy in her bed.
Stel moved Ian’s arm and tried to get up without disturb
ing him but he woke up anyway. He stretched, leaned up on his elbow and saw the illuminated digital display of large letters projected onto the wall.
‘Stelly, love, are you all right? It’s only half past five. Come back to bed.’
‘I can’t sleep,’ she said. ‘I’m going to make myself a coffee.’
‘Okay, love. I’m going back to sleep. I’m taking you out for a celebratory meal tonight by the way.’ He pulled the covers over him. ‘That sparkling wine was awful last night. I thought I’d picked up Champagne, I’m so sorry. I’ll make it up to you. I’m an idiot.’
‘No, you’re not. Easy mistake,’ said Stel, dismissing his need for an apology.
Downstairs in the kitchen, she put the kettle on, her mind a tug of war.
You’re just pulling back because you’ve been out of the game too long.
Don’t you think you’ve been manipulated here a bit, ‘Stelly’?
Your mum and dad met and married in four months, Stel – and stayed married for fifty years, didn’t they?
Yeah but that was four months, Stel, not two bloody weeks!
He’s a kind man. They aren’t all knobheads, you know.
You gave him an inch and he was in like Flynn.
You’re just scared, Stel. It’ll be all right.
It would be all right, she decided, dropping a sugar cube into her cup. He loved her and he was good to her. He was taking her out for a meal, wasn’t he? When was the last time she’d met anyone who liked to treat her to things like that? Of course it would be all right.
It would be all right. Really. It would.
Chapter 62
Caro pulled on the handbrake of her gorgeous Mercedes but didn’t get out of the car immediately. She sat and studied the brand new house on the estate. It wasn’t one of the extra-large ones, but it was detached, with a neat garden and a new blue Mini parked on the drive. Danira had done very well for herself. There weren’t many in her family as financially solvent as she was.
Caro flicked her long legs out of the car and smoothed down the creases in her coat before walking down the short path. The white front door could have done with a wipe down, she noticed. It had a brown mark on the bottom as if someone had nudged it open with a muddy shoe. Danira had only been in this house a couple of months, hence its relatively good state. Caro wouldn’t have liked to have seen what it would look like this time next year. It would be the eyesore of the estate.
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