by Melissa Hill
Was she pushy and needy and bunny-boilerish?
Well, she thought huffily, as she applied Clarins Beauty Flash Balm to her face, if trying to show somebody how much you cared about them by booking them on a luxury holiday was being a bunny-boiler, she wished she knew a few more of them herself! Then she shook her head dejectedly. She’d really thought that doing something extravagant like that for Steve would make him happy, especially as he’d been so thrilled when she’d organised prime seats for him and his mates at Stamford Bridge that time. But maybe an exotic holiday abroad had been too much too soon. After all, they had only been together a few months.
And why oh why had she sent him so many texts while she was away? Why had she been so stupid as to think that they had a real future together? She remembered Tara’s surprised expression when she’d told her that she was expecting Steve to propose any day now, especially after confessing they’d only been together six months. But she had been so sure Steve was the one for her, the one who’d finally deliver the fairytale she’d longed for since she’d watched her very first Disney video.
Natalie wiped away a stray tear from the corner of her eye. Now she was further away from that than ever, and considering the fact that she was getting older by the minute, she was getting further and further as time went on.
Was it ever going to happen? Was she ever going to find someone who wanted her as much as she did them? How many more frogs did she have to kiss before she found her Prince Charming? It was so bloody frustrating.
Natalie began to apply a thick layer of mascara onto her eyelashes, hoping it would obscure her still redrimmed eyes. With her naturally long and dark lashes, she didn’t normally need much, but today she needed to pull out all the stops to ensure that nobody in the office realised she was upset. Appearances were everything in the PR business and it wouldn’t do for one of Blue Moon’s most trusted publicity managers to come across as anything other than composed and in control. Given that she knew all about the holiday and Natalie’s hopes of a romantic week away, no doubt Danni would notice something, but hopefully she would know better than to ask.
Natalie sighed. So much for the romantic week away. How had she got it so badly wrong? From the first minute she’d laid eyes on him at that book launch in Soho, and particularly after they’d seemed to get on so well, she’d decided they were meant to be together. And then after a few dates, things had been so going so well that she couldn’t help but start picking out their children’s names and . . .
Suddenly, her eyes widened but this had nothing to do with her industrial strength mascara. Was that it? Had she been going about this all wrong? What if all the men she’d met over the last few years were perfectly suitable, yet she was the one who’d kept messing things up. Each of them had been all over her at the beginning, some of them admitting that because of her supposed good looks they’d almost been afraid to approach her. But despite their early interest in her, the ensuing relationships never seemed to progress any further than a few months.
And now that she thought about it, the same excuses tended to keep popping up over and over again: “I need some space . . . you’re too forward . . . no, I haven’t thought about whether I prefer Habitat to Ikea . . .” It was all the same stuff.
Natalie finished applying her lipstick and stared at herself in the mirror. She wasn’t that much of a nightmare, was she? Granted, she was so used to being aggressive in orchestrating things at work that perhaps she was unwittingly just as full-on when it came to her personal life.
Before Steve, there had been Gary, and he’d seemed fine at the beginning too until she’d . . . Natalie blushed at the memory . . . until she’d phoned up his mother after they’d been a few weeks together and asked if she could call round and meet her. Gary had gone apoplectic. But he’d been so full-on with her in the early days that Natalie had been certain they had a real future together. He was always staying over at her place and the sex, to the say the least, was pretty intense. So as far as Natalie was concerned this had to mean Gary was crazy about her, didn’t it? She grimaced. Once again, she’d got it wrong.
But now that she had the benefit of hindsight, Natalie could admit truthfully to herself that it wasn’t so much Gary she’d been interested in back then, but more the possibility of settling down and getting married like Freya and the rest of her friends. And if she was being totally honest with herself, didn’t she feel much the same way about Steve? Was she really heartbroken that he’d dumped her yesterday, or was she more upset about the fact that her dreams of domestic bliss had been cut short once again?
She didn’t know, she decided, picking up her briefcase and leaving the flat. All Natalie knew was that today she felt doubly eager to get back to work, back to dealing with the kind of problems she understood and therefore knew exactly how to control.
Chapter 10
Despite her determination not to let Emma’s comments get to her, over the week that followed Liz discovered that this was way more difficult than she’d thought.
On Friday evening, shortly after he and Liz had finished dinner, Eric announced that he was thinking of going out for an hour or two.
“I thought I might give Colm a ring – see if he fancies a few pints in The Bridge,” he said. “You don’t mind, do you? I haven’t seen him in a while.”
“Of course I don’t mind,” Liz had replied easily.
It was Eric’s first night off in a while, and even though she was a little put out that he’d chosen to spend it elsewhere instead of with her and Toby, she didn’t blame him. And after their argument about his going out in Dublin a few days earlier, she wasn’t about to start behaving like some overprotective shrew. “He was only saying the same thing the other day, actually.”
“Yeah, it’s been a while since we had a few. And of course, what with the café being so busy, I think he needs to get out and relax a bit.”
“I know, the place was packed to the gills the other day when I was in. He really needs to take on more staff.”
“Well, he’s tried, and apparently they’re easy to get but impossible to keep.”
Liz nodded. “I can imagine.”
“Anyway, I’m sure I won’t be too late – Colm won’t drink too many pints – you know how these fellas don’t like to let themselves go!”
Liz smiled inwardly. Despite his apparent open-mindedness about his best mate, Eric nearly always referred to his friend’s sexuality in a joking manner. Typical Irishman, she thought affectionately as Eric went off to get ready to go out.
But her affection turned out to be very short-lived when she discovered who her husband was really meeting that night.
Eric was in the shower, his deep baritone singing voice filling the house and causing Toby to look around him in wonder, trying to figure out what the awful noise was. Liz was in the bedroom, putting away some newly laundered clothing, when Eric’s mobile phone, which he’d left on a chest of drawers, beeped. She picked up the handset and nonchalantly checked the sender, suspecting that it must be Colm replying to his friend’s invitation. But when she saw the name that appeared in her husband’s inbox, Liz’s blood went cold.
“Emma”
All of a sudden, her knees went weak and, the phone still in her hand, she slumped heavily down on the bed. What was going on? Why was Emma Harrington sending text messages to her husband? And was it Colm he was planning to meet tonight – or was it her? Her hand shaking, Liz dropped the phone on the bedcovers. As much as she wanted to, she couldn’t bring herself to read the message. That was crossing a line. But hadn’t Eric crossed a line by corresponding with his ex-girlfriend behind his wife’s back?
It was obvious they had been in contact before. Emma’s name was evidently stored in Eric’s phone book, as it had been her name and not her mobile number that had appeared on the screen. So what the hell was going on?
A couple of feet away, Liz heard the water of the en suite shower being turned off and Eric stepping out onto the bathro
om floor.
Feeling like some kind of interloper, she quickly dropped the remainder of the laundry on the bed and exited the room.
OK, she thought, trying to get a grip on herself as she went back into the kitchen. It might be nothing – it might mean nothing. When Eric came out she’d mention that she’d heard his phone beep. She wouldn’t tell him that she knew who the message was from, no – she hoped that Eric would fill in that piece of information without any prompting from her. And if he didn’t fill her in, if he didn’t tell Liz that the message was from Emma and what it was all about, then . . . then she would have good reason to be worried. So for the moment, she would try to stay calm, try to stay rational and not carry on like a crazed, over-emotional, insecure wreck.
Just then Eric reappeared in the kitchen, clean-shaven and nicely dressed in jeans and a blue button-down shirt. A bit too nicely dressed for a visit to the local? Liz wondered and stopped herself before she really went crazy.
“I think I heard your phone go off while you were in the shower,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady. “You must have got a message.”
“Did it?” Eric went back into the bedroom and soon after reappeared in the kitchen with the phone in his hand. “It’s from Emma Harrington,” he said, his tone a little too wary for Liz’s liking, although she couldn’t help but be heartened by the fact that he’d told her the truth.
“Emma Harrington? Why would she be texting you?”
Eric shrugged. “Oh, that night I met her in Dublin she said something about maybe having a tip for me about a job . . . but she never got back to me about that after . . . ”
“So what does this message say?”
“Well, it’s a blank message so it’s obviously a mistake.”
Liz knew he was lying. His face had turned bright puce and he couldn’t bring himself to look directly at her. Oh, God!
“Right.” Liz’s insides burned as she tried to think of a response to this pathetic excuse. A blank message? What planet did he think she was from?
“Anyway, I’d better head away,” he said, apparently convinced that he’d come up with a convincing explanation as to why his ex-girlfriend was texting him. “Colm said he’d be there around half seven.”
“Right,” Liz replied, her brain scrambling desperately to try and explain what was going on. As far as she knew her husband hadn’t yet phoned Colm about this unplanned night out, so she wasn’t sure how Eric knew what time Colm would be there.
But deep down, Liz knew well that her husband of three years wasn’t meeting his best friend. Instead he was meeting the girl who had cast a shadow over Liz and her relationship with Eric right from the very beginning. The girl who was, at this very moment, pregnant with some unnamed man’s child.
Later that evening, Eric and Emma sat side-by-side on a wooden bench by the river in the huge but private park at the rear of the castle – as they had done many times before throughout their relationship. The secluded riverside area had always been a favourite for young and amorous Castlegate couples over the years, and although it felt very different to how it was when they were teenagers, for Eric there was still something calming and peaceful about the place.
“I think Liz saw your name come up on my phone tonight,” he told her tentatively. “Emma, I don’t think you should do that – it looks bad.”
She sighed. “Oh God, I’m sorry, Eric. I just wanted to let you know I’d be late, and to be honest I didn’t think for a minute that she’d check your messages like that. Isn’t that an invasion of privacy?”
“I didn’t say she did, I said I thought she might have seen the name,” Eric replied testily. “I don’t think she did all the same, but I had to admit to her that it was you, just to be on the safe side.”
Emma’s eyes widened. “And what explanation did you give for that?”
He shrugged. “I said the message had been blank, so it must have been a mistake.”
Emma shook her head from side to side. “She’s going to suspect something, Eric,” she said, running a hand through her long fair hair. “She’s not an idiot. And I really think you should tell her.”
“How can I?” he cried. “What would she think of me?”
“She’s your wife.”
“I know but . . . I wouldn’t even know where to start and, to be honest, I still don’t know how I feel about this myself yet. I’m still trying to come to terms with it . . . I don’t want to have to deal with Liz’s feelings too. God, I know that sounds awful, as if I don’t care how she feels. But right now, I really don’t think I could cope with that on top of everything else.”
“But what are you going to do in the long run? This needs to be sorted out one way or the other. You can’t let it drag on forever.”
“I know that,” he replied, his voice plaintive. “And I don’t know what to do. My head is so fucked up at the moment. This is the last thing I expected, Emma, the last thing I thought I’d ever have to face. And I don’t know how to deal with it. I don’t want to hurt her . . .”
“People will get hurt whatever you do, Eric, you know that. And the more time we spend just talking about it, and not doing anything, the worse it’ll be in the end – especially if Liz suspects something.”
“I know, and believe me I’m trying to sort it out but . . .” His voice trailed off and for a long moment the two remained silent, lost in their own thoughts.
Eventually, Eric spoke again. “So what about yourself?” he asked. “How are you feeling now . . . about everything?”
She sighed once more. “It’s hard, trying to keep it all a secret when everyone is so anxious to find out who the father might be. It all seems so clandestine and I think Tara thinks I’m doing it on purpose. Still, I swore I wouldn’t tell anyone and, Eric, I’m determined to keep to that. Nobody’s going to know – well, nobody except you anyway.” She raised a tiny smile.
“How did the two of us ever get ourselves into such a mess, Em?” he said, shaking his head, realising only at the last minute that he had addressed her as he used to years ago.
“I don’t know – we’re some pair all right!” She managed a dry laugh. “Maybe we should have never split up in the first place, then none of this would have happened.”
“It wasn’t that simple,” he said, unwilling to go down that road, about how he had moved away to Dublin and the relationship had eventually fizzled out. Fizzled out because he’d met Liz. He remembered how vibrant and funny his wife had been back then, and he’d fallen head over heels in love with her, completely forgetting all about Emma Harrington. And now, years later, here he was, keeping a huge secret from his wife, keeping a secret with Emma. It was strange how things worked out.
“Tara’s trying her utmost to wrangle it out of me,” Emma said. “We keep having long chats about how tough it’ll be for me on my own, or about how the father should be involved in the baby’s life.”
“And are you planning on telling her?” he asked.
She shrugged offhandedly. “I can’t, can I? Unless . . .” She shook her head. “No, forget it, I know it’s not an issue, so I won’t even say it.”
“It’s complicated, Emma, we both know that. And if it ever came out, it would be very tough for everyone involved. Particularly you.”
“I know – which is why I swore I wouldn’t say anything, remember? It was one night – we were drunk, we were stupid. I was stupid and it meant nothing.”
“Don’t say that – of course it meant something, otherwise it would never have happened, would it?”
“Well, at least the sex was good,” she laughed. “I’ll remember that for a long time to come!”
He raised a smile, a little taken aback that she could be so candid about the whole thing. Then again, that was Emma – tough as old boots. “Trust you to take something positive out of it.” Then he looked at his watch, and his tone grew more serious. “Look, Emma, I’d better be heading away soon. I told Liz I was meeting Colm for a couple of drinks ton
ight . . .”
“Right,” she replied, a trace of annoyance in her tone. Then almost immediately she brightened. “Where are you going? The Bridge?” The Bridge was the busiest place in the village and had always been their pub of choice when they were younger. “I wish I could tag along. Any excuse to get out of that house.”
“Your parents are still giving you trouble?”
She nodded. “Well, not exactly – my mother is all over me at the moment and it’s really doing my head in.” Then she sighed deeply. “It’s my own fault for coming home, I suppose. Maybe I should have stayed in Dublin and moved in with Tara or something.” Emma giggled. “I’d say she’d love that – little sis moving in and disrupting her perfect life.”
Eric could hear the bitterness in her voice and said nothing. In a way he could understand why Emma felt hard done by in comparison. While he and Tara had been close in their younger days, he now saw her more as a friend of his wife’s than his own, and lately they no longer seemed to have that much in common. Tara was a go-getter, someone who had made a huge success of her life, with her nice career, nice car and plenty of money. Unlike her little sister, who now had to contemplate an altogether more bleak future as a thirty-something single mother living under her parents’ roof.
But no matter how badly Eric felt about that, he couldn’t let her come along to the pub with him.
“Emma, if you’re thinking of coming with me, I really wouldn’t. It’s nothing personal, it’s just . . . well, it wouldn’t be right, particularly not in the circumstances. Not to mention the fact that Colm knows and likes Liz, and the two of them could talk. Anyone could talk.”
“Of course I’m not going to tag along! I’m not stupid, you know. If I wanted people to see us together I wouldn’t have suggested we meet here, would I?”
Eric stood up, suddenly anxious to get away. “Look, I really should go. Thanks for seeing me tonight – I really appreciate it. I know things aren’t easy for either of us, but I suppose we’ve only got each other to talk to and –”
