The Runaway Ex

by Shani Struthers

  “I understand.”

  She knew he was telling the truth. He did understand. He always had understood her. Perhaps that’s why he’d been able to let her go so easily—he understood her dreams. Suddenly she felt like the luckiest girl alive. She had loved two good men in her lifetime. And they had loved her right back. Some people never experienced that.

  “We’d better go,” she said at last, still worried about Layla. If they were gone for any length of time, she’d notice.

  “Yeah, sure,” he replied.

  They walked only a few steps before she stopped again. Slowly, she turned her body round to face him.

  “Thanks for being here for me, Joseph.”

  He was silent, his eyes holding her this time, not his arms. She hesitated before speaking again, but she had to tell him.

  “I never stopped loving you, despite leaving you. I…I still love you.”

  “I love you too, Tara.”

  As she turned away from him, he caught her arm.

  “You can do this, you know. We can do this.”

  “I know.”

  “If you want me, I’m here for you, every step of the way.”

  Caught between bittersweet emotions, she turned to face the world again.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “YOU CAN DO THIS, you know. WE can do this.”

  “I know.”

  “If you want me, I’m here for you, every step of the way.”

  Oh. My. God! Penny’s hand flew up toward her mouth. Had her ears deceived her, or had she really just heard Joseph utter those words? And not to Layla, either—Layla was back in the pub, deep in conversation with one of Tara’s friends. It must be Tara deposited down that dark alleyway with him. He was saying those words to his ex. What did they mean? They could do what together? Elope? Back into the wilds of Australia, somewhere the world would never find them? She must be dreaming. Quickly she pinched herself, readily affirming she was definitely not dreaming. She knew Joseph and Tara had once been a couple, but that was all over, had been for several years. Joseph had Layla now. He was loved up to the hilt. They were loved up. You only had to look at them to see they were smitten. Well, Layla was smitten, certainly. And Joseph had been. Wasn’t he still? Or had Tara come back and eclipsed her?

  Penny sensed movement—oh no, they were getting closer. She looked wildly around her. Hide, quick. But where? They were on one side of the honey shop—surely Joseph’s workshop once upon a time? She’d go around to the other side. Propelling herself forward, she threw herself into the gap, nearly knocking herself out in the process. It was so small she had to turn sideways to fit, something she wished she’d known pre-hurl. They were still talking as they walked away, their voices low, conspiratorial, in the thick of devising some cunning plan, perhaps? Working out how they were going to break the news to Layla that she was now superfluous to requirements. A cold sweat broke out on her forehead at the thought.

  A vibration coming from her hip distracted her. Damn, it was her phone! Quickly, Penny reached into her pocket to retrieve it. As she answered, she poked her head round the wall to see whether the deadly duo were still beating a hasty retreat or had been alerted to her presence. With great relief, it was the backs of them she saw, rather than startled, angry faces stomping toward her, demanding an explanation as to why she was stalking them.

  “Richard, what do you want?” she practically hissed.

  “Charming. It’s nice to speak to you too, Penny. I’ve been trying to get in touch with you all night. Why haven’t you picked up?”

  Because she had wanted a break from his incessant questioning, that’s why. She was fed up with being asked, “How many scoops of formula do I add to the water again? Six or seven?” and “She really doesn’t like that so-called ‘scrumptious lasagna.’ and I don’t blame her. It smells rank and looks even worse. I wouldn’t feed it to my dog if we had one. Does she like fruit?” If he’d bothered to help out a bit more at home, he would have known the answers to these questions and more.

  “I’m picking up now, aren’t I?” she replied almost begrudgingly.

  Earlier, she had crept out of the party to buy cigarettes. How she wished she hadn’t. And why she was craving them again, she didn’t know. She hadn’t smoked for years, had given up the habit in her mid-twenties. But some cravings, she was learning, never go away. Having purchased them from the mini-mart, she’d headed over to where she remembered Joseph’s old workshop to be to have a sneaky puff. Again, she wished she’d steered clear. What she’d just heard, she didn’t want to know.

  “Do you think it’s teething that’s giving her the bad nappies? I can’t believe how many times I’ve had to change her today.”

  “What? Er, yeah, maybe. Give her some of those teething drops, the ones I got from that new ethical supermarket in town. Teethease, I think the drops are called.”

  “Oh, right. Where can I find it?”

  Where can I find it? He defied belief.

  “You’ll find it where we keep all our medicines, Richard. In the cupboard above the washing machine.”

  Richard sighed. “Penny, you seem distracted. What’s the matter?”

  Of course she was bloody distracted; her best friend appeared to be in the process of being dumped—again. Poor Layla. Joseph had asked her to trust him. And, to her detriment, she had. First Alex, now him. This second betrayal would be enough, she was sure, to send her friend running to the nearest nunnery.

  “It’s nothing, Richard. I…I…” I what? she wondered. She didn’t know.

  Richard went back to his favorite topic. “So, it is teething upsetting her poor tum?” Worry entered his voice. “It’s not…You don’t think she’s ill, do you?”

  A cold trickle of fear ran through Penny at this thought too. “How is she otherwise?”

  “She’s fine. No temperature or anything. Just red cheeks.”

  “You say she won’t eat the food I’ve left. What is she eating then?”

  The phone went silent.

  “Richard,” Penny persisted. “What is she eating?”

  “Well—” and it was a sheepish well, Penny noted “—I was tired last night, too tired to cook, so I got us a curry.”

  “A curry?” What the…

  “It was only a korma,” Richard rushed to his own defense. “It’s mild.”

  “It’s still a bloody curry. It has all sorts of things in it—nuts for one thing. Babies under a year old aren’t allowed to go anywhere near nuts. It can lead to anaphylactic shock.” Blind panic seized her. “Oh, no, she’s not having trouble breathing, is she?”

  “Her breathing’s fine,” Richard assured her.

  Penny sighed in relief. “But spices, cream, not to mention copious amounts of saturated fat—it’s not good for her. How much did she eat?”

  Again a pause before replying. “Quite a bit, actually. Practically all of it, to be honest. I was only left with the rice and a few bits of chicken.”

  Penny rolled her eyes. Above her, she couldn’t help noticing the stars had dimmed, as though they too had joined Joseph and Tara in hiding.

  “And that’s why you’ve got the disastrous nappies. Stick to food suitable for a baby. She needs to be built up to new tastes, not assaulted with them.”

  “Perhaps you need to be more adventurous about what you give her, then,” Richard retaliated. “Not just food out of jars.”

  Penny could feel her nostrils flaring. That cigarette, she needed it now more than ever.

  “It’s organic food, Richard, meant for babies. There’s time enough for chicken bloody korma in the future.”

  “I don’t remember my mum ever feeding me or my brothers out of jars,” he continued imperiously. “She made everything from scratch, she did. Everything.”

  “No wonder she didn’t last long.” The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. She immediately tried to make amends. “Richard, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…”

  “No, it’s fine.” Th
e indignation in Richard’s voice grew stronger still. “You’ve made yourself quite clear. You’re not the type of mother my mother was, I know that. My mother would never have left her child, for a start.”

  “I haven’t left the baby, Richard. I’ve just come to stay with friends for a few days. I’ll be back soon.”

  “Her name is Scarlett,” Richard suddenly yelled down the phone. “Why can’t you bloody well say it?”

  Penny was too startled to speak.

  In the ensuing silence, Richard ended the call.

  Whoa! What a night this was turning out to be. Once again, she and Layla were on the brink of losing everything. By rights, she should go home, this very night. Rush back to Hannah’s, pack her stuff, and get in the car. Resume her motherly and wifely duties. But she couldn’t. Not tonight, anyway. She’d drunk too much.

  Frustration and despair fighting for supremacy, Penny slumped against the honey shop’s newly whitewashed wall. Almost mechanically, she went through the process of lighting up a cigarette. Taking a puff from it, she choked. It tasted disgusting. She tried the same thing again, hoping for a different result—the definition of madness, some would say—but she was disappointed when the next drag provoked the same reaction. She threw it to the ground and stamped on it, grinding it with her foot for much longer than was strictly necessary.

  Into her mind popped a picture of Richard, standing there in their kitchen, possibly feeling as distraught as she was right now, or maybe just plain angry. Questions reeled through her mind, one tumbling after the other. Why did she say that about his mother? Why did she always refer to Scarlett as the baby? What was wrong with her? Should she go and see Doctor Walker and get herself checked into the local asylum after all? Amazingly, she giggled at the thought of her in an asylum, Layla in a nunnery. An insight into the future, perhaps? And not the dim and distant future either; the likelihood seemed more immediate than that.

  The giggling turned into slight hysteria—she certainly sounded insane. Is this what motherhood had done to her? Was the responsibility of another life more than she could cope with? Reaching up one hand to her mouth, Penny tried to stifle the giggling. Her upper body was literally shaking with laughter, but it was not a joyous laughter; it was anything but. Eventually and with considerable effort, she managed to gain a semblance of control over herself, only to find she’d given herself a nasty case of hiccups.

  Like most men, Richard had adored his mother. The eldest of three sons, he was probably very special to her too. She had been a devoted mother, from what Penny could make out. Richard didn’t talk much about his childhood.

  “Don’t see the point,” he had said once by way of explanation. “It’s over and done with. It’s now that matters.”

  His mother had died when he was in his early twenties, before Penny had met him. His two younger brothers had been late teens and coming up to twenty respectively. Her death had hit them all hard. Their surviving parent, Bill, hadn’t handled things well at all, depending on alcohol to deal with life. His dependency on it had been what pushed Richard’s mother, Peggy, into an early grave, Richard was sure of it. But despite his resentment toward his father, he still did his duty by him. Especially since his father had landed in the hospital a couple of years back with a suspected heart attack. That had made them both see sense. Richard visited when he could, made sure the man was comfortable financially, but there was still that resentment there, she knew—resentment that his mother had tried so hard to give her children a “normal” upbringing and in doing so had worn herself out. Penny wished she had met Peggy, wished she was still alive. She could have picked up some great mothering tips from her. Her own mother lived in Slough, and although they got on well enough, she was unfortunately too much like Penny for Penny’s liking—no mothering tips there, then.

  Brushing away a rebellious tear, Penny tried with the cigarettes again. She was determined to have at least a few puffs from the white stick. But it was no use. As she had rejected smoking all those years ago, it now rejected her. Admitting defeat, she leaned against the wall and closed her eyes instead, waiting for the worst of the hiccups to subside. Eventually, she felt composed enough to return to the pub.

  As soon as she entered, Layla spotted her and came hurrying over.

  “Hey, where have you been? I’ve been looking for you.”

  Good job you didn’t find me, then, thought Penny wryly. Or rather, us.

  Instead she answered, “I needed some fresh air and to speak to Richard.”

  “Oh, how is he?” Layla looked cheery enough, cheerier than she had when she had torn her off a strip for suggesting this get-together with Tara in the first place. “How’s Scarlett?”

  “They’re fine,” Penny lied. “Look, tomorrow I think I—”

  Layla interrupted her before she could get any further. “Tomorrow I’m going to meet Tara. I’ve decided. I think you and Hannah are right; I should make an effort to be friendlier toward her.” She hung her head slightly, as though in shame. “I’ve been a bit of a bitch, actually. I’ve let my insecurities get the better of me.”

  “Layla, everyone has insecurities,” Penny countered.

  “I know, but the way I’ve behaved lately, I’m not proud of myself. I don’t want to be that sort of person.”

  You’re a better person than Tara, Penny wanted to shout. She’s a scheming, manipulative bitch. As for Joseph, well, what a disappointment he turned out to be.

  She turned her head from side to side. Where were they, anyway, the low-down, conniving pair of schemers? She should go right up to them, confront them, tell them in front of everyone that they were rumbled, that she had heard them and their sickening pledge. But wait a minute…Could what was said really be considered a pledge? Or was she blowing it out of proportion? She had to admit, she had a tendency to do that—quite often, when she thought about it. Were they merely words of support? She didn’t know. That was the trouble. She just didn’t bloody know!

  It took a minute or so to realize Layla was speaking again.

  “I’ve just spoken to Tara, actually. She was by the door. I grabbed her as she came in. Like you, she’d popped out for a bit of fresh air.”

  She’d popped out for a lot more than that, Penny wanted to tell her, but then confusion got the better of her.

  “Did she come in alone?”

  “Alone? Yes, she was alone. Why?”

  The sneakiness of it! They had crept out and then crept back in separately. That was it, evidence of their wrongdoing. She was going to expose them—now.

  “Penny, I’m so glad you’re here.” Layla once again broke into her vengeful thoughts. “Tara was lovely. She said she’d like it if we met, just the two of us. But to be honest, I’m a bit nervous about it. This whole situation, it’s still so…so strange.”

  “You can say that again,” mumbled Penny.

  “Sorry, what was that?” Layla leaned closer.

  “Oh, nothing, nothing,” responded Penny airily.

  “Oh, okay.” Layla unknitted her eyebrows. “I don’t think I could do any of this without you by my side, listening to my ramblings. I know it must be hard for Richard and Scarlett to spare you, but I’m grateful they can, if just for a few days. Without you and Hannah to talk to, I think I might have gone to pieces.”

  Drat! That would make going home tomorrow harder. It would make it downright impossible. Perhaps it would be better if she stayed, just for another day or two, give Richard time to cool off. She knew he’d booked the entire week off work anyway—a miracle for him. It was difficult getting him to book time off even at Christmas.

  No, she’d have to stay. The baby had Richard; she’d be okay. Layla needed her. The thing is, she might need her a heck of a lot more if what Penny suspected was true, that Joseph was in the midst of changing allegiance. As much as she wanted to shout from the rooftops what was going on, she reminded herself that right now it was only a suspicion. What she’d heard had been damning, but not quite dam
ning enough. She’d do better to watch and wait. Things seemed to be moving fast. If something was going on between them, they’d trip themselves up soon enough. And if they did, she’d be here for the fallout—and to give Joseph and Tara what for.

  Chapter Sixteen

  AFTER THE PARTY AT THE TRECASTLE INN, Layla, Joseph, Hannah, Penny, and Jim made their way back to the flat. Despite her earlier reservations, Layla was pleased; it had been a good night, really enjoyable. The atmosphere had been electric, and Tara and Jim’s old crowd was certainly a friendly one. She’d been absolutely engrossed talking to Nico—she was someone Tara had grown up with, had been good friends with, although they had lost touch when Tara moved to Australia.

  “Missed her, though,” Nico had said, another sun-kissed babe, as diminutive as Tara. “But it happens; people go their separate ways all the time.”

  Layla was about to agree when Nico had started speaking again.

  “Tara and Joseph, though, I never thought they’d go their separate ways. They seemed as though they were made for each other. It was a shock to everyone.”

  Layla had balked at this.

  “Are you okay?” Nico had asked innocently.

  Layla hadn’t let on she was Joseph’s current girlfriend.

  “Fine,” Layla had replied, her voice slightly strangled, she knew.

  Eager to know more about her nemesis, Layla had continued to quiz Nico in an oh-so-interested way. How had the girls spent their days during the summer? What kind of things did Tara like to do, besides what everyone did around here, surfing? Was travel always something that had interested her?

  From the picture Nico painted, Tara seemed like the sort of girl Layla herself would have liked to hang out with—fun. She came across as sweet too, a staunch friend. The words sly, sneaky, manipulative, and mean were never even hinted at.

  In a way, Layla was glad. The girl whom Joseph had loved before her seemed like a truly lovely girl. Her nemesis? Perhaps she had overreacted.

  Bearing that in mind, Layla had eventually torn herself away from Nico in search of Tara. She had spotted her coming in the main entrance of the pub and headed over to her straightaway.