So here they were, her sister and her nephew. And although the affair was supposedly over, the situation with Jeff was hardly going to be resolved overnight, if at all. At least Layla had her bed back; a blow-up mattress had been turned into a bed for Finn in Mum’s room, and Rowan either slept in with Mum or on the sofa, if she’d been out.
Tonight, April was down at the Maybridge Arms, giving her all to the karaoke. She’d said she wouldn’t go but Layla had insisted; Mum needed a break from all this melodrama. Jadine was out with Smart Alec – or in, if his parents were out – and Rowan had gone somewhere unspecified. Layla hoped she hadn’t lied and was seeing her lover, whoever he was. She wouldn’t put it past her.
Whatever the truth of it all, Layla didn’t much care – her own problems weighed heavily enough without taking on other people’s. That wasn’t the case, though, was it? Of course she cared, mainly about April. She really didn’t need to be involved in her daughters’ lives to that extent, and poor little Finn must wonder whether he was coming or going.
Layla nipped upstairs to check on him. He was still fast asleep, arms thrown out against the pillow, and wearing a puzzled frown, as if he was in the midst of solving a difficult problem.
Back downstairs, she poured a glass of Shiraz and went outside to sit on the back doorstep. Mid-May, and the days were lengthening. The evening air had a summery feel about it. Several motorbikes roared along Warbler’s Way. Disturbed by the noise, next door’s chickens squawked, bringing Foxleigh and the Morlands to her mind – not that they were ever far from it.
Was it really only last weekend that she’d made such a terrible mess of everything? There were only two words to describe it: unmitigated disaster. It was all her fault – the tension; the scene in the pub; Melody’s tears; Reece’s exasperation; all of it. The crazy part was that she’d planned that conversation, rehearsed those questions about Danni in her head as if they were lines in a play. She’d even chosen the backdrop – the pub, away from the house. Well, she’d certainly created a drama; she’d got that bit right.
Last Saturday, she had still been awake when Melody came to her room around midnight – how could she sleep? She’d felt afraid of what was to come, while at the same time a tiny ray of hope shone, hope that Melody was going to ask her not to come back to Foxleigh again. But it wasn’t that. Instead, she’d been dry-eyed and calm, speaking to Layla in a soothing voice, like a mother comforting a child after a bad dream.
‘I tried, Layla, truly I did, when you brought…her into the conversation. It was too hard and I’m so sorry,’ Melody had said.
And Layla had said she was sorry, too; sorry that she’d overstepped the boundary and tried to make Melody do something she wasn’t ready for.
This was true; it was how she felt. At least, she had at the time. And now? Everything had got so confused in her mind that she no longer knew what she thought, or how she felt, or where she was supposed to go from here.
Then Melody had said something else, something that turned Layla’s heart inside out.
‘I do talk about her, all the time. I talk about her in here,’ – Melody had tapped her temple – ‘and in here.’ Her hand strayed to her chest. ‘Just not to anyone else.’
They’d shared a hug then, and had a little cry together, and then it was over and Melody went off to bed. In the morning, everything had seemed normal – normal for them – except that Reece’s jollity was a bit lacking in credibility, and Melody’s ‘See you soon’ was weighted with unspoken appeal.
This was never going to stop. Never. She’d stuck pins into them, thinking that if she drew a little blood it would provoke some sort of allegiance between Melody and Reece, even if it meant turning them against her. Instead, they’d reacted singly, barely glancing at one another across the great divide, and she’d been left feeling worse than useless and totally out of her depth. All she’d wanted was to steer them back to one another. She wasn’t in charge of the boat, though, was she?
Suddenly, she wanted to be five years old again, being rocked on April’s lap, with the rhythmic scuff of her tweed skirt beneath her legs and the breath of Estée Lauder on her face. But Mum wasn’t here, and even if she had been, there was nothing she could do or say that would help. Not if she hadn’t been told the truth.
Rowan didn’t come home all night. April was obviously worried. She pretended otherwise and concentrated on distracting Finn, who hadn’t yet asked where his mother was but surely would as soon as the penny dropped.
Jadine and Layla took it in turns to make furtive calls to Rowan’s mobile. They found it switched off every time. There was no point in trying the salon because it was closed on a Monday, as was Jadine’s. They left messages, but their sister’s own message was only too clear. Leave me alone.
Nothing awful had happened to Rowan, Layla was convinced of it. They would have heard by now. Convincing her mum was another matter. April was all for calling the police until Layla reminded her that Rowan was a grown-up, supposedly, and, as such, an unlikely candidate for the missing persons’ list.
The phone rang at half past nine and everyone jumped. Layla picked it up. It was Nan. ‘Where’s Rowan? Is she there? She said she was coming round to do my hair. I’ve already washed it!’
‘It’s all right, Nan. Jadine’s going to do it instead… No, no, don’t get a taxi, not with wet hair. She’ll come to you.’ She put the phone down and turned to her sister. ‘Jadine…’
‘Bollocks I will.’
‘Jadine, will you please just do it?’ Why did her sister have to argue about the least little thing?
‘Yes, go on love,’ April said. ‘You can’t leave Nan dripping.’
Jadine sighed theatrically. ‘I am getting a lift, right?’
‘Wrong,’ Layla said, before Mum could offer. ‘You’ll walk it in ten.’
‘But…’
‘Go!’ Layla pointed towards the door.
Jadine went. A moment later, the front door banged shut. April and Layla raised their eyes at each other, then both of them looked at Finn, who was gazing down at his jeans and trainers with a perplexed look on his face.
‘Aren’t I going to school then?’
April took Finn gently by his shoulders.
‘No, darlin’, it’s half term and I’m having a half-term, too, so I can look after you, remember?’
‘I’ll have him today, Mum,’ Layla said. ‘You put your feet up and stop worrying. You-know-who will be home before you know it.’
‘Where’s me mum? Has she gone to the shop?’
‘That’s right, love.’
April’s voice was lazy with tiredness and stress.
‘Sometimes me mum’s not in bed in the night but it’s all right ‘cos Jeff makes me breakfast,’ Finn said, giving them a bright smile.
Layla’s heart squeezed. She daren’t look at Mum.
‘How about you and I go out somewhere, Finn?’ she said.
He looked doubtfully up at Layla. ‘Where?’
‘Oh, I don’t know. We’ll think of something.’
Finn did a little skip and a jump. ‘Orright.’
They drove to the city centre and left the car in the cathedral car park. Finn liked looking in the windows of the souvenir shops, and The Spice Emporium was close by; she could pick up some bits to go with tonight’s chicken.
Raj, the owner, knew Layla as one of his regulars, though not by name.
‘Ah, at last!’ he cried, as they entered the shop. Raising his eyes, he clutched the broad drum of his chest dramatically. ‘A real cook! Professional, yes? And today you come with your assistant.’
He beamed at Finn, who looked down shyly at his shoes. Layla smiled, and began to scan the nearest shelves.
‘Where you work?’
Raj knew full well the answer to this, but that never stopped him asking. Layla gave the familiar response.
‘Tidehall Manor. You should try it sometime. Bring your wife for a nice dinner.’
Raj’
s black eyes narrowed to slits, his head rolling to one side, as he pretended to give serious consideration to this suggestion.
‘I might, I might. She’s very busy with the children. We have five. Did you know that?’
She did. Wandering along the aisles, she chose harissa paste, cumin seed and sun-dried tomatoes. More cosy banter as Raj placed her purchases in a brown paper carrier as reverently as if they were the Crown Jewels, and they were out in the sunshine again. The narrow streets were beginning to fill with other shoppers and tourists. Visitors to the cathedral were making their way across its grass frontage towards the ornate arched entrance. A green-and-gold painted signpost stood opposite the Emporium. Layla’s eyes were irresistibly drawn to one of its fingers: To the river.
She looked down at Finn, now jiggling impatiently beside her.
‘How do you fancy a boat trip?’
‘Like on my birthday?’
‘Yes, like on your birthday.’
Finn thought for a moment. ‘Okay,’ he said.
The boat – Lady Tabitha again – was almost full; it was the perfect day for the river. Finn, squeezed in next to Layla on the slatted wooden seat, had his thumb in his mouth. With the other hand, he picked at a bubble in the varnish. His straw-coloured hair was pushed up into quills where his head rested against the back of the seat. He was always well-behaved with her, almost docile. Layla wished she had that effect on the rest of her family. She tilted her face to the sun, listened to the chug of the engine and the faint swish of the water and tried not to think about anything at all.
The boathouse came into view. She turned her head towards the other bank, the nearer one. Finn was pulling himself upright, pointing.
‘What’s that funny place?’
‘A special kind of house to keep a boat in. Look over there, swans with babies!’
‘I can’t see no boats.’
‘Any boats, and you won’t because they’re all gone now.’
Finn plugged his thumb back in and returned to his varnish bubble. Layla wished she could switch her own attention on and off so easily. The bend in the river had soon removed the boathouse from sight, but the image stayed with her of swaying branches mirrored in dark, abandoned glass, and another of a musty picnic rug, soldiers marching round a biscuit tin, and someone who listened so closely to what she had to say that she heard her own, exact, words repeated back to her much later in the conversation.
Had he thought about contacting her – thought about her at all since that day – or had he dismissed her, the whole thing, once she was out of his sight, like an enjoyable yet instantly forgettable dinner? She rooted in her shoulder bag for her phone, scrolled through to his name. He had entered it for her, and asked her to do the same for him. A social nicety, a way to end. She had his name, his number, and his umbrella. He’d told her to keep the umbrella. It had a hole in it, anyway.
The phone beeped, startling her. Nervously, she opened the message and saw April’s name come up.
R home safe. She’s not said where she went but never mind ours is not to reason. x.
Most of the passengers piled off the boat at the zoo, but a few remained on board for the return journey. Finn was easily coerced into staying put by the promise of ice cream as soon as they got back. He seemed tired and unnaturally quiet. The poor little guy must be worried about his mum, even though he hadn’t shown any response when Layla had assured him earlier that she’d be there when they got home. Damn Rowan.
Her phone beeped its message signal again. Her stomach swooped. Could it be…? It was Abe, with a question about shifts. She stabbed out a quick reply. This jumpiness was her own fault. It had been a mistake, coming to the river. She should have stayed well clear, even though Monday was not, ostensibly, one of Morgan’s days. Finn would have been just as happy to have gone to the model railway museum or for a ride on the mini go-karts in the park. It occurred to her that, subconsciously, she might have been hoping to bump into Morgan. If so, her subconscious had a lot to answer for.
Layla sighed. He wasn’t here; all this introspection was pointless. She watched the skipper – a tall guy with shoulder-length hair – casually handling tickets as he ushered the passengers aboard, and felt numb.
The phone was still in her hand, his name showing on the screen. She must have scrolled to it, her fingers – her brain – on automatic pilot. All she had to do was press and speak to him and say hello. She wouldn’t, though. It was too close to the edge, too much like a version of herself she no longer had any use for.
Layla didn’t know what had happened during the journey back down river, but something had. Her sight had been fixed all the time on the back view of the guy at the helm, the calm set of his head and shoulders, the laconic movements of his hands on the wheel. By the time the prow of the boat knocked gently against the jetty, a decision had been made without her being aware of having made it.
She hung back as the crowd began to disembark, moving her phone from her pocket to her bag, taking off her sunglasses, before she took Finn’s hand and tacked onto the back of the queue. When they reached the front, Finn bounded up the steps and onto dry land. Her turn. She took a deep breath, swallowed an acid-drop of fear, and as she reached the top step and the skipper dropped his polite hold on her arm, she turned round and glanced back as if she might have left something behind.
‘All right?’ he said.
‘Yes…actually, I was wondering…’ – another breath – ‘is Morgan about today? Morgan Hampshire?’ As if there were going to be two of them.
The skipper reeled back, just perceptibly, and appraised her openly as if he didn’t know quite what to make of her. ‘Morgan? You know him then?’
‘Kind of.’
‘No, not today, sorry. Catch him at the weekend, though, most likely. Should be about then. Is there a message?’
Layla drew her gaze directly to his. ‘Just tell him I said hello, would you?’
‘Who will I say…?’
But Layla was already walking away, towards Finn and the ice-cream kiosk.
Chapter Twelve
Kate’s eleven-o-clock was late. And she’d been crying. Kate had seen her car arrive while she’d been typing up notes in the shared office. She’d closed down the computer, gone out into the magnolia-glossed hallway and stood beneath the fly-crusted striplight. It had been several minutes before her client had entered through the swing doors and nodded towards the receptionist, who didn’t need to be told her name.
Kate waited until Melody Morland had chosen her seat in the consulting room then sat down opposite her, placing her appointment book on the scuffed table between them and casually sliding the box of tissues across to Melody’s side.
‘Shall we start?’
Melody sniffed and nodded. Kate switched on her recording machine.
‘Do you know why you don’t talk about your daughter?’ Kate asked, when they’d been going for a while.
Melody was silent for a moment; her hands, which she’d been twisting in her lap, stilled.
‘We talked about her at the beginning, all the time, while there were arrangements to be made, things to be dealt with, but it felt then as if she was still with us, still there, somehow. When that part was over, I don’t know… We just stopped.’ Melody thought for a moment, biting her thumbnail. ‘It wasn’t on purpose. At least, I don’t think it was.’
‘The girl who comes to visit – your daughter’s friend – has she never spoken about Danni before, while she’s been with you?’
‘I don’t know. I don’t remember.’ Melody’s eyes cast about the room and came back to Kate. ‘Maybe once, but it would have been a long time ago. That’s why it was such a shock.’
‘And how did you feel later, Melody, after the initial shock had passed?’
Melody thought.
‘I think I felt sorry for her. Oh God, it’s all so confused! Yes, I did. I felt sorry for Layla, because she shouldn’t have to deal with…all this. It isn’t her faul
t and it isn’t fair. I tried to put it right…’
‘You spoke to her about it?’
‘I went to her room – we’d all gone straight up when we got home – and we had a little talk.’
As Melody’s voice wavered, Kate reached for her hand and clasped it between her own two hands, a virtual hug, giving her the strength to continue.
‘I know what I’m doing to her,’ Melody said. ‘I can see it in her face every time she comes to the house, every time she leaves, but I can’t stop. I don’t know how to.’
‘Do you want to stop?’
‘Sometimes I do. Then I think she must be coming for her own sake, and she needs me as much as I need her and that’s why she hasn’t walked away, because I’m not stopping her, am I? How could I?’
Melody’s expression opened up to let in the light as the justification took shape in her mind. Kate suppressed a sigh. In this situation it was hard to tell what was real and what was not.
‘Melody, have you asked Layla directly if she wants to keep up the contact with you?’
‘Oh no, I couldn’t do that. She might think we don’t want her, and that would be terrible, wouldn’t it?’
Kate released Melody’s hand and sat back in her seat.
‘Your husband – Reece, isn’t it? Does he think it’s time to stop, to let go of Layla?’
Melody’s brown eyes widened in surprise.
‘I really have no idea.’
Kate dropped the file into the cabinet and shut the drawer with a clang. Usually this signalled the point at which she cut away from the client. This time it felt as if a piece of Melody Morland was still attached to her, like a stubborn placenta.
Never Coming Back: a tale of loss and new beginnings Page 9
