by Fiona Harper
He nodded. She knew he understood. All of it. And that he agreed.
‘What next?’ he said lightly, taking the out she’d given them.
‘Waitress,’ she said, picking a job out of the air.
‘I have some contacts,’ he added. ‘Wedding professionals get to know each other after a few years on the circuit. I’ll talk to some of them, give you a call.’
‘Text me,’ she replied hoarsely. That way she wouldn’t have to hear his voice.
Alex looked at her for a long moment. Then he looked towards the exit. ‘It’s late, and it looks like this party is going to keep going for a while longer before bride and groom are ready to leave. I think it’s time for you to call it a night.’
It felt like a dismissal, even though she knew it was an escape. She nodded, not knowing what else to say.
He pulled a battered leather wallet from his back pocket. ‘I’ll pay for a cab to take you back home.’
She shook her head. ‘Are you insane? That’ll cost a fortune!’
He shrugged. ‘To answer those questions: probably, and seeing as you’ve pulled two twelve-hour days with hardly any breaks, all without pay, it’s the least I can do.’
It made sense. And he was right. They were finished here. But the irony wasn’t lost on her that the last time a man had paid for a cab like this, she’d been feeling pretty much the same way.
He handed her a wad of notes and she accepted them then went to fetch her coat. He followed her to the door. ‘It was nice working with you, Nicole.’
Her head bobbed up and down in lieu of a verbal response. She concentrated on breathing properly so she didn’t make a noise that would give her away. Then she opened the door and let it swing closed behind her, cutting her off from him. She felt sick.
She tried to distract herself from the sensation by copying the number of a local minicab firm pinned onto a cork noticeboard into her phone.
Sick for having unwittingly poached her best-ever client’s boyfriend. Sick for having to walk away from him. But most of all, sick because she knew that even if she could have him, Alex was a man who looked for the truth, who valued what was real. And she’d been lying to him in one way or another from the first moment they’d met.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Sunday morning always had its own brand of quiet, Nicole thought, as she crept to the front door with her shoes off. There was a completeness about it that made every noise she made a hundred times louder. She tried putting her toes down first and walking like a ballerina.
Peggy always described this tiptoeing through a flat at the dead of morning, careful not to disturb the other occupant, as ‘the walk of shame’. It really shouldn’t count in Nicole’s case, since she had woken up in her own bed. Alone. That didn’t stop her feeling the weight of the previous night’s events as she reached the front door and pulled her boots on.
It was nine-thirty and she really needed to get moving before Peggy woke up. There was no way she could face another inquisition like last week, so she’d decided to go and grab breakfast at a local cafe, and then she’d text Mum and see if it was okay to crash Sunday lunch. A day hidden behind Mum’s sparkling white net curtains in the suburbs was exactly what she needed.
Once she’d reached the cafe and bought a cappuccino and yogurt, she fished her phone out of her handbag and sent a quick text off to her mother. It dinged only moments later with a rather enthusiastic reply. That only served to heap more shame onto Nicole’s shoulders. She knew it had been a long time since her last visit, and they only lived an hour or so away by public transport. She’d been meaning to go, she really had, but she’d been so busy…
And going home wasn’t the same as it used to be. She’d grown up on the fringes of London in Orpington, in a nice middle-class area with tree-lined streets and well-kept front gardens in front of the 1930s semi-detached houses. Mum was a teacher, and her father—Nicole’s grandfather—had been a police inspector, but Dad was from decidedly more working-class roots.
He’d always used to joke that his wife was too posh for him, and Nicole had smiled at that growing up, liking the fact that he thought her mum was special. And she’d felt special too. Some of her friends had even teased her for being posh when Dad had bought his Mercedes, even though it had been a few years old and previously loved. She’d felt lucky, privileged.
Securing a scholarship to Hurstdean had been the icing on the cake. But when she’d got there, she’d realised that there was posh and then there was posh. Having one Merc didn’t qualify. Two or three, maybe, along with a Ferrari or an Aston Martin, not forgetting the obligatory Land Rover. It had been a whole different world. One she’d had to do her best to fit into. Or at least not stand out too badly in.
It was only a quick hop on the Tube and a train out from Charing Cross before she arrived at a virtually deserted Orpington Station. Her dad was waiting for her in the car park with the motor running—the same Mercedes—and he leaned over and gave her a peck on the cheek as she slid into the passenger seat.
‘Hello, love. How’s tricks?’
She gave him her best smile, the one she usually reserved for nervous clients. ‘Oh, you know…The business is growing. Life is busy…’
He nodded, put the car into gear and pulled away. Nicole exhaled. She’d got very good at that, being vague with her parents about the actual details of her life.
When they pulled up on the drive outside her parents’ house, her mother opened the door wearing a Laura Ashley apron. Nicole walked up the path smiling and went happily into her embrace. She closed her eyes. There was something about Mum’s hugs that always made her feel better. When she’d been little, Dad had always joked they were magic, but Nicole wasn’t sure he was far wrong.
‘It’s lovely to see you,’ Mum said as she pulled back and took a good look at her daughter. ‘You look a bit tired. Late night?’
Nicole tried not to give anything away in her expression. ‘Something like that.’ And then, because she really didn’t want to delve any further into that subject, she added, ‘Sorry about the short notice.’
Mum shook her head. ‘You know there’s always plenty for Sunday lunch. You should do it more often, even bring Peggy with you, if you wanted to. Or a man…’
Oh, they were back to that again, were they? Mum’s not-so-subtle hints.
‘There’s no one special at the moment,’ she said. Only that wasn’t quite true, was it? Another lie. They seemed to come so easily at the moment, as if they were a habit she hadn’t realised she’d developed. ‘I mean, I’m not seeing anyone.’ She smiled brightly back at her mother. ‘I’ll bring Peggy next time, I promise.’
Peggy loved coming here. She went gaga over the original features that Mum had stopped Dad ripping out of the house, like the fireplaces with their ceramic tiles and the picture rails on the walls. Peggy called her mum ‘Mrs H’ and flirted with her dad shamelessly. Not that Dad complained.
‘Anyway, come inside. It’s perishing out there.’
Mum turned and walked down the hall, leaving Nicole and her dad to follow. The scent of roast lamb and home-made mint sauce hit her squarely in the nostrils. It was such a warm, comforting smell, reminding her of long, rainy Sunday afternoons and board games round the dining table after lunch. She’d always wished she’d had a sister or a brother to make up a foursome, but one had never arrived. For some reason she’d never asked her mother whether it had been out of choice.
‘So…how’s the agency going? Any exciting proposals recently?’ her mum asked as they started tucking into their roast dinner.
Nicole smiled and told them all about Warren popping the question in true 007 style, and then she went on to tell them about the steampunk wedding, casually fudging over the details of why she’d been there and whom she’d been with.
Her mother looked over at her father across the mint sauce. ‘We didn’t make such a fuss over that sort of thing in our day,’ she said, and a smile blossomed behind her eyes
. ‘Your father proposed to me on a park bench after we’d been out for a Sunday afternoon walk. No fuss, no flowers. Didn’t make it any less romantic.’
Dad snorted. ‘Just as well. There’s no way I’d get dressed up like ruddy James Bond and work my way down the outside of a windy building. I do enough of that in the day job.’
Mum leaned over and patted his hand. Her father maintained his scowl, but Nicole saw the answering warmth in his eyes as he stared back at his wife.
Mum shrugged. ‘Sometimes you just know,’ she said, returning to her dinner and chopping up a piece of broccoli. ‘It’s that simple. Just didn’t need a lot of fanfare to prove it to ourselves and everyone else. Didn’t make it less real.’
‘Just as well not everyone thinks like you do, or I’d be out of a job,’ Nicole said, laughing.
Mum smiled across the table at her. ‘I think so too. It’s not our cup of tea, but we’re very proud of you for setting up your own business and making a success of it. And you make lots of people happy. I’m really glad you’ve found something you love to do.’
Nicole nodded. Her smile stayed in place, but her insides sank. While she hadn’t been planning on going into profit and loss statements, she’d wondered if Dad would be a good source of advice when it came to running a small business. Now they were looking at her with that ‘glow’ again, the kind of glow they’d developed when she’d got her scholarship, the kind of glow she’d seen every half-term and every holiday when she’d returned home. It made it very hard to tell them things weren’t as rosy as they thought, as they needed them to be. She turned her attention to her carrots instead and stacked the orange discs onto her fork.
They’d been so proud of her when she’d got her scholarship. She hadn’t been able to tell them in those first few years how much of an outsider she’d felt. Even when she’d established a group of good friends and felt as if she was fitting in, something would happen to bring everything sharply back into focus again—usually a trip that she couldn’t afford to go on—and the differences, the boundaries, between her and her friends would be drawn again. But she’d refused to ask Mum and Dad for more. They’d given her more than enough already. Besides, making her way in the world was her job, not theirs.
After the roast lamb came her mum’s famous apple pie. Nicole wolfed it down with relish. She might have eaten in a top London restaurant or two in her time, but she hadn’t yet met a dessert that could beat it. She was just scooping up the last crumbs, along with a healthy serving of cream, when her mum spoke. ‘Are you okay, Nicole darling? You seem very quiet today.’
Nicole stopped chewing and looked up at her mother. For a few seconds she didn’t do anything, but then she swallowed and put her spoon down.
No, she wanted to say. I’ve got myself into a terrible mess and I don’t know how to get out of it.
But she didn’t say it. As much as she wanted to curl up on the sofa with a cup of tea and tell her mum some of what was going on, she realised she couldn’t. It was such a disaster that even telling a small part of it would mean the rest of the story would unravel around it. Part of the reason for all her hard work, all the changes she’d made to her life to make herself better, was to show her parents she was worth all the sacrifices they’d made for her over the years. They didn’t need to know their only daughter was on the verge of dismantling everything she’d worked for bit by bit.
‘I’m fine,’ she said eventually. ‘Well, mostly fine. But it’s a long story. Perhaps I’ll fill you in another time. I realise I have to get back and do some prep for tomorrow.’
Her mother nodded, even though she didn’t look entirely convinced.
And maybe Nicole would tell her, when it was all over, and she’d managed to salvage as much as she could, knew how to spin the bad bits so it didn’t sound so awful.
She did stay for the obligatory board game. Dad insisted, saying he’d drive her back to the station and make sure she caught the four o’clock train, so she’d be back home by teatime. At least working out if Professor Plum or Miss Scarlet had committed a heinous crime left her out of the firing line.
It was almost dark by the time her mother waved her goodbye on the doorstep and she climbed into her dad’s car. When she said goodbye to him outside the station, she gave him an extra squeeze.
Thank you, it said, for everything. And sorry for a lot more.
Her dad just squeezed her back and kissed the top of her head. ‘Hurry up,’ he said, sounding a little gruff. ‘Or you’ll miss it, and it’s a half-hour wait for the next one.’
Nicole nodded and hurried away, but as she disappeared from view inside the station, she slowed. She had plenty of time. And she wasn’t even sure if she cared if she did miss the train at six minutes past. She had some thinking to do, and sitting on a windy platform watching the sky darken to a murky grey-blue seemed to be a fitting location.
Her plan for today had failed. Like most of her plans were failing at the moment.
She’d wanted to visit her parents to escape the things plaguing her in London, but all she’d done was bring it all with her. And being back home had brought some new truths she didn’t want to know about sharply into focus.
Most of her life she’d been trying to fit in, to feel part of something, to feel like an insider rather than the perpetual outsider, but she had to face facts that, despite all her attempts, sometimes she felt lonelier than ever.
The only person she didn’t feel that way with was Alex, and soon he’d be forever out of her reach.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Early on Monday morning, Alex met Tom for a run round Weavers Fields, not far from his flat, which lay between Shoreditch and Bethnal Green. It was cold and grey, but a part of him welcomed the feeling of chilly damp air on his skin. They did a quick warm-up at the edge of the park before setting off.
‘So…’ Tom said, while grasping his foot and pulling it up behind him into a quad stretch. ‘How was it seeing Cinderella again?’
Alex looked straight ahead and pushed his heel down to lengthen his calf. For some reason everything was feeling very tight today. ‘Who?’
Tom chuckled. ‘Cinderella. Your mystery girl who disappeared at midnight. That’s two Saturdays in a row now. In your younger days that would have been considered a serious relationship.’
Nope, this calf just wasn’t wanting to give. Alex exhaled and tried to relax his leg muscles. ‘It was work,’ he said, not giving Tom the satisfaction of reacting to his dig. ‘And I’m with Saffron.’
Tom snorted.
‘You’re wrong about the six-month thing, by the way. Saffron and I are in a very comfortable groove. I could keep going out with her quite easily.’
Tom dropped his foot and picked up the other one. ‘But are you happy with her?’
Right. He was giving up on this leg and trying the other one. ‘Yeah.’ He glanced across at Tom. ‘We have fun.’
Tom shook his head. ‘That’s not what I’m talking about.’
Alex was tempted to give him a shove and watch him fall into the mud. Instead he ignored him. Tom was always a little bit feisty on a Monday morning. His low mood just needed to catch up with his high energy levels. Until then, he was often a bit argumentative.
‘Anyway,’ Alex said, ‘it’s coming up to that time when we need to plan the annual hiking trip. Jack and Phil say they’re up for it.’
‘What about Matt?’
Alex shook his head. ‘His missus is about to have a baby, so he’s grounded. I know we always stick to the UK, but I wondered about somewhere further afield, somewhere with some more interesting terrain.’
Tom stopped stretching his legs and started swinging his arms. ‘And by “more interesting”, you mean “more dangerous”.’
Alex grinned at him. ‘Of course.’
They both set off walking at a brisk pace. Tom laughed. ‘Well, we all know you’re a bit of an adrenalin junkie, and I suppose you’ve got to get your kicks somehow these days.’
>
Great. Tom was turning psychologist on him again. It wouldn’t be as bad if he came out and said what he wanted to say without just dropping big hint bombs and then watching for the resulting fallout. Alex knew he shouldn’t take the bait.
‘What does that mean?’
Eh. He’d never been one for listening to good advice. Or any advice, it had to be said. He liked to do things his own way and in his own sweet time, thank you very much.
‘It means you never used to be one for playing it safe, mate.’
Alex just gave him a quizzical look. It was that or punch him.
Tom shrugged. ‘Think about it.’ And then he picked up speed and jogged away down the path.
Alex shook his head and kept striding. With his calves the way they were today, he needed to take a bit longer to get up to speed, even if his so-called best mate was going to rib him about ‘losing’ when they got to the end of their run. To be honest, he’d had enough of Tom’s pearls of wisdom today. He could do with the solitude.
He took his earphones, which were hanging round his neck, and jammed them in his ears, then pressed play on his iPod.
Playing it safe? What utter rubbish.
He walked for a few more minutes, the pounding of a Muse track in his ears fuelling his pace, then began to pick up speed. As he ran, hardly noticing the trees and bushes, or the dog walkers clustered in clumps and having a gossip, he pushed Tom’s words out of his mind.
Unfortunately, that just left space for other thoughts to creep in, ones that were equally unwelcome, despite their allure. What had Nicole said about his work on Saturday? About him not taking the chance to follow his dreams? That wasn’t what Tom was talking about, was it? It was just a crazy schedule that prevented him from taking more time to do his landscapes. When he had a moment to plan his next trip, he would.
Then why haven’t you? a little voice in the back of his head whispered. It’s been almost a year since the last one. It’s almost as if you’re avoiding it.
