by Maggie James
As for Scott, first I would wrap up the situation with Liam and then tell him the truth. Dread gripped my gut at the prospect of unveiling my deceit, but it needed to be done. All I could do was pray ridding Ellie’s life of one man wouldn’t wreck my chance of happiness with another.
A solitary bright light burned on my horizon. Tomorrow evening I had a date with Scott.
And what a night it turned out to be. We met at seven o’clock outside the Arnolfini for our walk, the air still warm after the heat of the day. Scott seemed more confident when he greeted me, although I glimpsed an occasional flash of the shyness I found so charming. Especially when he caught sight of the bracelet of gold beads around my wrist. He didn’t comment, but his soft smile spoke for him. As we strolled past the M Shed towards the SS Great Britain, we laughed and chatted, and I never wanted our time together to end.
Once we arrived on the other side of the harbour, we stopped to gaze at the boats bobbing on the water, the night air cooler by then. Neither of us spoke for a while, the evening perfect without words. Then, emboldened, I decided to chance my luck. The suggestion left my mouth before I could rein in my impulse.
‘Would you like coffee at my place? It’s only a five-minute walk from here.’ Heat flushed my cheeks. Had I been too pushy?
He nodded. ‘Great idea. I’d love that.’
Relief flooded through me. I’d been afraid he’d say no, despite how well we’d been getting along. A prickle of nervousness stirred in my gut, though. Might Scott want, or expect, sex? However much I liked him, our relationship was too new for me to take that next step. We barely knew each other, I’d not slept with a man since Richie, and ... oh God. Lynnie Connor, my alter ego, would have jumped into bed with Scott Champion in a nanosecond, her initial nervousness around this man long gone. Lyddie Hunter was a different matter. Since I’d put on weight, I had lost confidence in the bedroom, insecure about my cellulite and stretch marks.
His next words diffused my anxiety. ‘I can’t stay long, I’m afraid. I need an early night.’
‘Are you going somewhere tomorrow?’
His expression clouded. ‘I’ll tell you about it over coffee.’
We set off in the direction of my flat. To my surprise, Scott reached for my hand once we’d gone a few paces, his fingers warm against my own as we walked towards Millennium Square. My heart thrilled at his skin touching mine, the sensation electric and filled with promise. I wrapped myself up in the cosy silence, happy beyond words. Without warning, Scott stopped abruptly, a frown on his face.
‘What’s up?’ I asked.
He didn’t answer at once, his gaze directed somewhere behind us. Then: ‘I think we’re being followed.’
My mouth turned desert-dry. ‘Are you sure? Where?’
Scott gestured in the direction of the city centre. ‘Over there. He took off once he caught me staring at him.’
‘What did he look like?
‘Just some guy, dressed in jeans and a hoodie. I didn’t get a chance to see more.’ He shook his head. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.’
‘It takes more than that to rattle me. Probably just some dope-head.’ My voice sounded more confident than I felt. We continued the rest of the way in silence.
Once inside my apartment, I busied myself with coffee, kettle and mugs while Scott leaned against the door jamb to the kitchen. ‘Nice place you have here,’ he said.
‘Isn’t it great? I only moved in recently, which is why it looks a little bare.’
He moved closer to the wall on which I’d hung some of my early work. ‘Wow. Are these yours? You’re really talented.’
My cheeks flushed with pleasure. ‘Thank you.’
He smiled. ‘You must come to my house soon. It’s not as smart as this, but I like it. You can check out my crappy paintings while you’re there.’ He gave a self-deprecating laugh.
A visit to Scott’s. I approved of the idea. A lot.
We settled on one of the sofas in the living area, facing each other. ‘So where are you off to tomorrow that needs an early start?’ I probed.
Again that clouded expression. He sipped his coffee, clearly considering his answer. When he spoke, his voice shook a little. ‘I need to collect Darcy, my sister. From hospital.’
Then he said the words that made my soul ache for him. ‘She has cancer. An aggressive form of leukaemia.’
No wonder he looked so bereft. Concern squeezed my heart. I set my coffee mug on the floor, moving closer. We stared at each other, tension crackling through the atmosphere. Then I reached out my hand, took one of his and wrapped my fingers around it. Ah, skin on skin again. Perfect.
‘I’m sorry.’ Such inadequate words, yet I hoped my tone conveyed my feelings.
‘We thought we had it beaten. She’d been in remission for two years. Then ...’ He shook his head. ‘Seems we were wrong.’
‘Will she ...’ I stopped, aware I couldn’t ask Scott whether his sister would live or die. He understood what I meant though.
‘Maybe she’ll pull through,’ he said. ‘Darcy’s young, and the survival rates for leukaemia are better than many other forms of cancer. I can’t deny I’m scared though. She’s not in a good way. Who the hell is when undergoing chemotherapy? She’s just completed another round of treatment, and looks like shit.’
‘I wish I could help.’ Anything to wipe that haunted expression off his face.
He shrugged. ‘All I can do is hope. If I lost Darcy, my whole world would collapse.’
Selfish it might be, but I had to ask. ‘Is now a good time for you to be dating? With your sister so ill?’
‘Probably not.’ He sighed. ‘It’s been hard, though. Watching her hair fall out, seeing her so drained, so pale. Apart from my art, I’ve precious little in my life. I don’t care about my job - it’s a means to pay the bills, nothing more. I just wanted ...’ His expression grew troubled, and I yearned to lean in and kiss him. ‘Some hope for a better future, I guess. Which is why I joined Premier Love Matches.’
‘I understand.’
Scott got to his feet. ‘I should go.’ A hint of nervousness crossed his face. ‘Listen, do you fancy coming round to my place sometime next week? This weekend is out of the question, what with making sure Darcy’s all right.’
That sounded a great idea. As well as spending more time with him, I’d get to see his paintings. ‘I’d love to.’
We edged closer to each other. Sex might be off the menu, but other things might prove possible. Much as I yearned for our first kiss, I was worried. Was my breath still fresh? Should I have gargled first?
Then Scott pulled me to him, our mouths met, and my brain melted.
Liam was late again on Wednesday evening. Only by five minutes, but such rudeness annoyed me. Scott had always been on time, his punctuality added to the list of things I liked about him. While I waited, I went into the bedroom to check my appearance. Wariness hung in my expression as I stared in the mirror. I knew full well that, had I been cooking for Scott, I’d have appeared far more radiant. God, that kiss ...
The piercing sound of the buzzer made me jump. Liam had arrived.
When I opened the door, I spied a bouquet of yellow roses in his right hand before he enveloped me in a hug, his cologne heavy in my nostrils. Despite my best efforts, I tensed, my body rigid in his arms. He drew back but didn’t say anything. Instead he thrust the flowers at me. ‘These are for you. You look lovely, by the way.’
I buried my nose in the roses, inhaling their heady scent. ‘Thank you. They’re beautiful.’ I busied myself with finding a vase, gesturing towards the dining area. ‘Make yourself comfortable. The food will soon be ready.’
Liam plumped himself on one of the fat sofas, his gaze roaming the room. He whistled under his breath. ‘Wow. This apartment is stunning. You’ve not lived here long, I take it?’
So he’d noticed the lack of personal possessions. ‘I only moved in recently.’
‘Do you own this place? O
r rent it?’ He shook his head, the movement accompanied by a laugh. ‘You don’t have to answer that. It’s none of my business.’
‘I bought it. A couple of months back.’ My bullshit radar was on full alert again. So the prick was probing into my finances, was he? Yeah, he was Steven Simmons all right. As well as Rick Montgomery and Michael Hammond.
I found it damn hard to put on a convincing act that night. My anger over Ellie burned hot while we ate. I listened while Liam talked about himself, making comments where appropriate, careful to preserve the façade of Lynnie Connor.
We’d finished the beef and started on dessert by the time I decided to raise the stakes. So far Liam hadn’t mentioned his business, which didn’t gel with how I’d expected him to play things. Unbeknown to him, I had activated the recording function on my phone before I served up our first course.
‘So how’s work?’ I injected concern into my tone. ‘When we went for that French meal, you seemed so down about everything.’
A frown. ‘Sorry about that. I’d had a rough day.’
‘Want to share?’
He shook his head. ‘I shouldn’t dump my issues on you.’
I leaned forward, the epitome of a supportive girlfriend. ‘I’m interested. Really.’
‘Like I said, money’s always a problem. I’ve just completed a new development site and need to sell the houses as soon as possible. Several creditors are threatening me with court action and have frozen my accounts in the meantime. I’m behind with paying the men’s wages as well. That’s how it goes in construction … cash flow’s often erratic.’ His mouth tightened. ‘I should be used to it, but it stresses me out big time.’
‘Can you talk to your bank? Get an overdraft, perhaps?’
A snort of derision. ‘That ship sailed a long time ago.’
‘Sounds like you need an injection of cash. And soon.’ I kept my voice concerned, watching him all the while.
He grimaced. ‘Don’t I know it, especially with the house renovation costs escalating. Wish I had a hotline to the money genie, that’s for sure.’ His eyes roamed the apartment for a second time, no doubt assessing its understated luxury. I could almost hear the cash registers singing ka-ching! in his head.
Liam ate the last bite of his cheesecake. ‘Can we talk about something else? Please?’
‘Of course.’ The certainty inside me grew. He’d planted the seed, and had started to water it. The bastard would attempt to harvest his crop soon. Bring it on, I told myself, as I prepared our coffees.
The evening ended with his hands seeking my breasts, his lips clamped to mine once we’d moved to the sofa. Had he given me enough warning, I’d have dodged his mouth before it landed on my own, but he didn’t grant me that luxury. Liam was no match for Scott, not even close. I endured the kiss while removing his fingers from inside my bra.
‘It’s too soon,’ I said after I pulled away.
His eyes narrowed. ‘Are you seeing someone else? Is that why you’re so goddamn standoffish?’
‘No!’ The denial flew from my mouth, followed by guilt at my deception. ‘I told you that already.’
‘I won’t be lied to, Lynnie. If you can’t keep your legs shut around other men, I deserve to know.’
‘Don’t be so bloody crude.’ I shot off the sofa, putting distance between us. ‘There’s no-one else, I swear.’
We stared at each other, anger written large in my face, suspicion dominant in his. Then he gave me a weak smile.
‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you.’ He grabbed his jacket, his expression contrite. ‘I should get going, I guess.’
Before he left, I promised to see him again in a couple of nights’ time, just to get rid of him. Once I’d shut the door, I wiped my hand across my mouth. Yuk. I’d just kissed the bastard who had swindled Ellie, who’d creeped me out with those weird texts, maybe even by stalking me. What the hell was I playing at?
I reminded myself what was at stake. Justice for my sister.
8
Ellie remained a concern. She’d sounded stressed the last time we’d spoken on the phone. Mum and I were in contact with her every day, our worry being she might still be suicidal, yet burying her feelings. She operated as though it were a sin to appear anything other than perfect in front of her family. Whether she’d always been so devious, I couldn’t recall. I’d known the damaged version of Ellie for so long I barely remembered how she’d once been.
The morning after my date with Liam, I drove to my sister’s flat in St George. When she opened the door, her appearance did little to reassure me. The shadows under her eyes had returned and an air of worry clung to her, evident in the frown she wore. Something wasn’t right, and I prayed this time she’d confide in me, rather than seek solace in a bottle of pills.
‘Lyddie,’ she said. ‘You should have called. The place is a mess.’
‘Doesn’t matter.’
She stood aside to let me pass. The air in the hallway was stale, a faint odour of old cooking increasing the closer I got to the kitchen. Papers and files lay strewn across the dining-table. From the glimpse I got, most were bank statements, the rest being invoices. Some had ‘overdue – please pay at once’ red-stamped on them. Ellie pushed past me, sweeping everything into her arms before I had a chance to speak, and exited the room. When she returned, I pulled her into a hug.
‘I’m here for you,’ I said.
She shoved me away, her eyes not meeting mine. ‘For now, sure.’
It wasn’t her style to sound so resentful. ‘What do you mean?’
‘You’ll be off to Spain before long.’
So that was why she was hurting. ‘I might be moving back to Bristol,’ I said. Perhaps I was being premature, but so what? Before Ellie could respond, I pressed her into one of the chairs around the table, sitting opposite her. ‘I’ve met a man, Els.’
Her tired expression lifted. ‘Who? How? Where?’
Encouraged, I told her about Scott, leaving out any mention of searching for Steven Simmons, merely saying we’d met through a dating website. When I finished, she squeezed my hand. ‘I’m pleased for you.’
A positive sign. Part of me felt guilty for parading my happiness in front of her, but my aim was to reassure her I’d be around for a while. Maybe for good.
Silence fell over the kitchen. I knew I should go, but I couldn’t ignore the frown that had crept back on Ellie’s face.
‘What’s wrong, Els? I know you’re upset about something.’ I remembered the red-stamped invoices. ‘Are you concerned about money?’
Her lips tightened, but she shook her head.
‘Steven Simmons, then?’
I watched the shutters slam shut over her brown irises, saw her expression morph into neutrality. ‘I’m fine, Lyddie. Nothing for you to worry about. I’ve not been sleeping well, that’s all.’
I knew better than to argue. Ellie was lying and I intended to discover why.
On Friday evening I’d arranged to meet Liam at an upmarket wine bar, all brushed steel and black marble, in Clifton. My expectations were high he’d continue his pursuit of my money, and when he did, my phone would record every word. Loathing filled me while I waited, my urge to be with Scott fierce. The game with Liam had to end soon, and with any luck I might bring matters to a head on this date. I hated Lynnie Connor, mistress of deceit. I yearned to be Lyddie Hunter again, a woman who wanted only one man in her life, and it wasn’t the snake with whom I’d be drinking wine once he arrived.
As usual, Liam was late. He struck me as uptight the minute he walked through the door. I noticed his sullen expression as he yanked his chair out. He sat down without greeting me, his eyes averted.
‘Is something wrong?’ I asked.
When he’d didn’t reply I tried again. ‘I realise it’s a sore subject, but are things at work still bad? With your cash flow problems, I mean?’
His tone was curt when he replied. ‘Crisis averted, as they say. I sold two of the houses on the d
evelopment site, subject to the contracts being signed. With that in place, the bank agreed to extend my overdraft. My men have all been paid, along with the most urgent bills.’
‘That’s great.’ I’d not expected that, and my brain scrambled to catch up. No sob story, no hints that he might need my help. It didn’t fit with tapping me up for money, a contradiction that rendered me unsure and floundering. I still couldn’t fathom the reason for his foul mood.
‘Not that you give a fuck,’ he continued.
Alarm edged into my voice. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I saw you earlier today.’ Darkness glowered in his eyes. ‘At that Italian place on Park Street, holding hands with some guy. So much for you not dating other men.’ Contempt filled his tone.
‘You followed me?’ My visit to Caroline’s, the parking lot under my apartment. The man Scott spotted the other night. Our impromptu lunch at Bella Pasta. Liam, guilty every time.
‘Don’t make me out to be the bad guy in this.’ Fury sat in every line of his face. ‘You’re nothing but a goddamn slut.’ His voice was growing louder with every word, and people were staring.
‘For God’s sake, Liam, stop shouting.’ My cheeks flushed with embarrassment.
‘Couldn’t keep your legs together, could you? Just my luck to date two cheating whores in a row.’ He shoved the table away as he stood up, causing the wine list to fall to the floor. ‘Fuck you, bitch. We’re through.’
Back in the Harbourside apartment, I plumped myself onto the nearest sofa, my legs tucked under me, thoughts whirring through my head. One thing was obvious: Liam Tate wasn’t Steven Simmons. However hard I tried, I couldn’t reconcile the fact he’d ended our relationship with him being a con artist. A misogynist, no doubt, one with entrenched jealousy issues, but not Ellie’s ex. Whoever had conned my sister had been cool, focused, self-controlled, and that wasn’t Liam Tate, not in a million years. Especially seeing as he’d said his money worries were solved. In my haste to obtain justice for Ellie, I had targeted the wrong man.
