by Kathy Jay
Layla tried to raise a smile, and failed.
‘What’s wrong love? Is there something you’re not telling me? Something about Paris? And you-know-who? I can’t remember when I last saw you so down-hearted.’ Shelly dunked her biscuit in her tea.
‘I’m a bit blah. Being in magazines is a shock.’
‘Silliness sells newspapers. Daft headlines on the cover. And half-baked stories inside. Nick could breathe half a dozen unconnected words in as many different languages and it would be news. It’ll blow over soon.’
‘He’s hard to forget. Especially as it didn’t end well. I miss the person he was when he was with me, but he wasn’t the real deal. And thinking about him every day makes me sadder than I thought possible.’
‘Is that why you’re not speaking to him?’
She studied her beloved charms – pixie, heart, four-leafed clover, horseshoe, padlock, key. And the star … Deep sadness flooded her heart.
‘When he gave me this, he wasn’t the same Nick. He was cold. Couldn’t wait for me to leave. And condescending. As if I was a bad smell under his nose.’
‘Adding a new charm to your bracelet doesn’t strike me as the action of someone who thinks you smell bad.’
She sighed. ‘Believe me, it’s how I felt.’
‘You smell lovely, like summer flowers.’ Shelly kissed the top of her daughter’s head. ‘Sweetheart, you were both on the same page, neither of you expected the weekend to turn into anything more, I don’t see how he could have behaved any other way. He had to work.’
‘You think I’m being unreasonable.’
‘I think you got in out of your depth.’ She finished her biscuit and took another one out of the packet. ‘When you and him were getting on so well I was happy for you. I hoped he might blow away the cobwebs – after Joe.’
‘It went sour very quickly.’
‘He seemed smitten to me, but with all that’s been written about him over the years, there’s no smoke without fire. I can’t lie – I doubt someone like that can change, not unless they really want to.’
‘The thing is, it’s possible I might be pregnant.’
Shelly dropped the biscuit into her mug, sloshing milky tea onto the counter top.
‘It’s possible? Have you done a test?’
‘No, not yet.’ Her voice trembled, and not for the first time since she’d walked away from Nick, she wanted to cry, afraid of the way he’d reacted to Beth, how easily he’d rejected his daughter. ‘I’m scared. I don’t want to find out, because if it’s a yes, I’ll have to tell him, and then it’s all going to kick off.’
Shelly emptied the unfinished mugs of tea into the sink. ‘We’re going into town, right now.’ She ran the tap, flushed the biscuit mush down the plughole, then set about closing the kiosk.
‘It’s probably a false alarm.’
‘That’s what I thought, and I ended up with you.’
‘I know. And Granny Rivers made sure I knew it. And now look.’
Shock registered on Shelly’s face. ‘She told you?’
‘Uh-huh.’
‘About the …?’
‘Condom failure. Yes.’
‘The witch. When?’
‘The day after I turned sixteen.’
‘Let’s go.’ Checking the time on her mobile, Shelly grabbed her keys and Layla slung her handbag over her shoulder. ‘If we leave now, we’ll make it before the chemist in town closes.’
Shelly marched her to the car and gently ordered her into the passenger seat. She drove the car in silence weaving along the lanes to the main road. She turned the radio on and pop music, all love songs as luck would have it, filled the loaded silence in the car.
By the time they arrived in town Layla felt ill. As Shelly parked the car heavy rain began to fall.
‘Have you got an umbrella?’
Layla shook her head.
‘Me neither.’
They waited for the shower to ease off, aware of the minutes ticking away on the dashboard clock. Incapable of getting out of the car, Layla watched rivulets of water trickle down the windscreen. Making their watery descent, the trickles divided and forked, creating new streams, setting off down the glass in new directions.
‘You’d better go.’
‘I can’t. I feel sick.’
‘Well if you can’t, then I will sweetheart.’
Her mum hurried across the market square in the rain holding a magazine over her head. Layla’s mind whirred, struggling with the big what-if. Her mum had put her well-being ahead of her own since the day Layla had been conceived. If she was pregnant, more than anything in the world, she’d strive to do the same thing. She’d put her feelings for Nick aside, and first and foremost figure out what it meant to be there for a child; something he’d proven he wasn’t capable of.
Arriving back at the car, Shelly slid into the driver’s seat and dropped a wet plastic bag into Layla’s lap. She opened it and peered in fearfully. ‘Six? Was it really necessary to buy up the entire stock?’
‘Best double check. What if one of them is faulty or you do it wrong?’
She held back from asking if that’s what her mother had done, checking and rechecking, hoping the first result had been a mistake. It was a gloomy thought.
Shelly started the engine. ‘You mustn’t do anything stupid.’ She’d gone into maternal overdrive. ‘You can’t tie yourself to a man who doesn’t love you back, no matter how much you think you love him.’
‘A baby’s a strong reason. It’s what you did.’
‘And we raised a lovely daughter. But if he doesn’t love you and if you don’t trust him, then keep your freedom and focus on bringing up a happy child. That’s my advice. No matter what he says.’
‘Look, we’re getting ahead of ourselves. The test might be negative.’
Her mother pulled carefully out of the square and turned towards Layla’s cottage. ‘Your grandmother wasn’t a witch. I shouldn’t have said that. But she shouldn’t have told you that thing.’
‘It doesn’t matter.’ She didn’t want to hurt her mother’s feelings, but even without the too-much-information details it had been obvious she was unplanned.
‘Granny Rivers had a difficult start in life. Her older brother was killed in the Second World War. She was evacuated from London to live with relatives at the old farm on the cliff, then stayed on after the war, didn’t go home, because her mother died in a bombing and her father didn’t want her back. He didn’t think he’d cope with a child he barely knew, he needed a fresh start. She was devastated, never really came to terms with it all.’
‘Why didn’t anyone tell me?’
‘It wasn’t talked about. And it’s not the sort of thing you tell a child.’
‘Poor Granny, I’d no idea.’
‘It affected the way she lived. She didn’t make friends easily. I think she was happiest when she met your grandfather. The bracelet was her most precious possession, a present on their wedding day. Those charms were important. She loved him with all her heart, he died much too young.’
Layla clutched the plastic bag dripping in her lap. ‘Do you think she blamed me? For Dad missing out?’
‘Why would you think that? She thought the sun shone out of your dad. She had big dreams for him. Bigger than he really wanted for himself. And she loved you to bits.’
‘She didn’t show it.’
‘That’s how she was. But she loved you all the same. On your first birthday …’
‘She didn’t come to the parties.’
‘True. But she always marked the occasion. That day she stopped in after everyone left, explained about the bracelet, said she was putting it away to keep safe for you.’ They reached the main road and drove in silence for a while until finally Shelly added, ‘She was cross with Ralph for being careless. He was too young and too fickle to settle down when he married me. She knew it. She didn’t want me to get hurt, and she was afraid to get too close to you – convinced we’d split up
. My mother loathed her. That’s why she didn’t come to your parties – because she was afraid there’d be arguments, that Ralph and I would fight and I’d leave and take you away. After what happened over our wedding, she didn’t want any upset.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Granny Rivers told us to wait until Ralph had been to university to get married. My mother said he might not come back. That’s how our mothers fell out. It escalated, got seriously unpleasant, both of them starting rumours and making accusations. Someone said she said I wasn’t good enough for her son, that I got pregnant on purpose to keep Ralph from leaving. We told her about the contraception fail in our defence. Eventually we got sick of our mothers rowing and eloped. We got married in the registry office with a barman and a waitress as witnesses then hid out in a hotel in Newquay for a couple weeks. We ran up an enormous credit card bill.’
Layla gasped. ‘No celebration?’
‘Nothing. No wedding dress. No flowers. No champagne.’
Anxious, Layla twisted the plastic bag. ‘I didn’t know.’
‘We’re not proud of it. It’s not exactly something we advertised. We tried to make up for it by making your birthdays special.’
‘It might have been an idea to explain why my grannies didn’t get along. I thought it was me Granny Rivers hated.’
‘It didn’t occur to me,’ she said, ‘Your dad and I were always papering over the cracks, too preoccupied with putting on a show to think about how any of this affected you.’ After a long pause she added, ‘I’m sorry.’
‘It’s okay.’
‘She wasn’t spiteful, but she was very disapproving. What I find strange is that after so much tragedy, Ralph failing to live up to her expectations was just a disappointment, but she reacted as if it was the end of the world.’
They arrived back in the village and Shelly pulled into a parking space in front of the cottage. ‘Do you want me to come in and wait while you pee?’
‘Thanks but no thanks.’ Layla grappled with her seatbelt, opened the car door and jumped out. ‘I might need to build up to it.’
Shelly lowered the driver’s side window and gave her daughter a reassuring wave as she put her key in the lock. ‘Don’t leave it too long. And let me know as soon as you know. And remember, whatever happens don’t do anything crazy. Like say you’ll marry the man.’
‘Mum, stop! What makes you think he’d even ask me?’
‘You might ask him.’
‘In your dreams,’ she said bleakly, ‘I haven’t spoken to him since Paris. It’s over. And baby or no baby, marriage isn’t what I want. I can cope without Nick’s input.’
Her mother must have a screw loose. She was warning her off proposing? As if! If the comment was a motherly attempt at lightening the mood it fell flat.
‘A little bird told me he’d been sending you gifts. That doesn’t sound to me like a man who knows it’s over.’
‘Whoever your source is, they have it wrong.’ She wanted to bury her head in her hands. She held up the bag containing the pregnancy test selection. ‘Thank you for these.’
Once inside the cottage she let the dog out into the yard, fed her and made a much-needed cup of tea. Evidently her mum had talked to the neighbour because Nick had been sending things by courier every day. The first offering had been an irresistibly delicious Eiffel Tower made out of mini macarons. She’d allowed Ophelia to have one, but it was a lot for one person and a dog so she’d taken some across to her neighbour. The rest of the gifts were hidden under the bed in the spare room, amongst them a beautiful art book from the Musée d’Orsay and a large framed photograph of the amazing Chagall ceiling at the opera house. She wished he’d stop. She detested that he wanted to buy her off, compensation for the ridiculous media frenzy.
She flopped onto the sofa, opened her handbag and took out the magazine she’d shoved in there.
Inside, there was a zoomed in picture of her hair that appeared to have had the brightness dialled all the way up to accentuate its redness.
‘Great. Listen to this, O.’ Ophelia tilted her head to one side, eyes like a couple of shiny brown buttons. She read out loud to the dog.
‘“On the rebound, jilted playboy actor Nick Wells has been photographed in Paris with a striking mystery red head.”’
Ophelia lay down with her head on Layla’s feet, and huffed out an empathetic canine sigh. She silently read the rest of the article, rubbing salt into her wound. The ludicrous item had evolved from the old man at the restaurant’s pictures. It named her and mentioned them meeting at Maggie’s wedding. According to speculation, the journalist claimed – allegedly – wedding day shenanigans between her and Nick had driven Toni into the arms of the security guard.
She wondered if her mother had properly read the piece. It didn’t paint her in a good light. Heart-battered, feeling like a fool, she tossed the magazine onto the growing pile and set the bag from the chemist’s on top. The thought of doing a pregnancy test curdled her stomach. Given what she’d just read all she wanted was to crawl under her duvet.
The doorbell rang and her irritation bubbled up. Another pointless item? So annoying. Where were the things she’d left in the hotel? She’d borrowed the snazzy little suitcase from Maggie’s loft so she’d have to replace it. The rest was all clothes, nothing special. What would he try and pay off her humiliation with today? A chocolate model of Notre Dame complete with bells and an edible Quasimodo?
Ophelia jumped up and ran to the window with an unusually ear-splitting yap. After another nerve-jangling ring of the bell Layla got up off the sofa. Alternating between emitting nervous yelps, and turning in circles, chasing her tail, the dog got under her feet. ‘What’s going on?’ she asked, side-stepping so as not to trip over. She peeked hesitantly out the window. ‘It’s late for a delivery.’
Her heart sank to an all-time low at the sight of Joe on her doorstep. She nipped across the room and quickly hid the bag of pregnancy tests under a cushion. Bracing herself, she opened the front door.
‘Joe,’ she said frostily. She bit back remarking on the fact that he’d finally deigned to show his face and remove his belongings. ‘Your stuff’s ready. It’s in the cupboard under the stairs.’
He marched in like he owned the place. ‘Lainy’s not with me. I don’t know if you’ve heard. We’re getting a divorce.’
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Nick waited for the electric gates to Fran’s chic new build to slide back, and drove across the crunching gravel with a ball of trepidation in his gut. He swung around the turning circle with a fountain and sculpted topiary at its centre, parked and cut the engine. He twiddled with the dashboard controls, stalling. He checked his phone. Still nothing from Layla. It hadn’t properly sunk in that they were over. He’d tried to make contact, she’d cut him dead. Her suitcase was in the trunk. He’d been lugging it with him, postponing sending it on because as long as it was in his possession he had a reason to continue trying to reach her.
He quickly read a text from his brother. He’d sent Nick that Shakespeare quote he was so fond of – typical. ‘It is not in the stars to hold our destiny but in ourselves.’ The irony jarred. Alex didn’t know he was in Cheshire. He’d decided to keep quiet about the meeting with Fran and Beth until it was fait accompli.
Alex’s words referred to Layla but Nick had a strong feeling that that ship had sailed. It was for the best he told himself, it’s what they’d agreed. Once he’d talked to Fran, and met Beth, he’d sort out how to deliver the suitcase.
Fran’s house had a grand entrance, mock classical pillars, steps up to the front door and a golden lion’s head knocker which stared him in the face while he steeled himself to press the doorbell, the high tech electronic chime setting his teeth on edge.
Fran opened the door, and his trepidation ramped up a notch. ‘It’s good to see you. Come in. We can hang out here for a bit, pick Beth up after school, go for pizza. How does that sound?’
‘Whatever you
think best.’ he croaked, uncertain how to handle the formalities and also relieved she was on top of it. ‘How does Beth feel? Is she okay with this?’
‘Absolutely,’ she said reassuringly. ‘Things have settled down, she’s looking forward to meeting you.’
He followed her into the vast kitchen. While she made tea, he walked over to the wall of bi-fold glass doors and pretended to admire the view of the garden.
‘I was in a spin the last time you were here,’ she said. ‘I wasn’t coping well. I shouldn’t have dumped everything on you the way I did. I’m sorry. I have a lot of apologizing to do.’
Listening with his back turned, he sucked in a deep breath and let it go slowly. He appeared calm on the outside, but beneath the surface he was an undetonated bomb. ‘There’s no need to apologize – an explanation would be nice. Why didn’t you tell me about Beth in the first place?’
He turned to confront her. Her gaze bored into him. He couldn’t have been more uncomfortable if she’d produced a high-pitched dentist’s drill.
‘What we had was supposed to be a no-strings thing, nothing serious.’ The corners of her mouth drooped sadly. ‘There are things I didn’t tell you, not excuses, but I’m hoping they explain my decision.’ She closed the space between them and handed him a mug. The heat seeped into his palms. Seething with questions, he sipped the tea and gazed out at the meticulously landscaped garden. ‘I had a broken heart. You were the cure. I didn’t tell you because you not knowing about it, well, that was kind of the point of us.’
‘For you,’ he remarked, wondering if his feelings had been taken into account at any point.
‘I’d been planning a big wedding. It was all arranged – dresses, bridesmaids, caterers, marquee on my parents’ lawn. You wouldn’t believe how thorough the details were.’
He didn’t react, suppressing the urge to say he didn’t care.
‘I’d been planning the day for over two years. I was bridezilla!’ Mirthless she laughed. ‘I’d ordered a cake shaped like a gigantic pile of teacups. I must have been as mad as a hatter.’ She took a sip of tea, and almost snorted out another unfunny laugh which she stifled just in time to prevent a disaster. She set the mug down on the kitchen table and straightened her back, composing herself. ‘Needless to say the wedding didn’t take place. The guy I was going to marry tried to get my bridesmaid into bed. She was mortified. She didn’t know what to do, but in the end she told me, and three days before the wedding I called it off. I’d already forgiven an affair, and turned a blind eye to other …’ She hesitated uneasily, and Nick sensed that she wasn’t sure if she could trust him, like she hadn’t been able to trust her fiancé. ‘Indiscretions,’ she said. ‘Anyway, when I heard he’d tried it on with my bridesmaid, I knew he’d never change.’
