Falling in Love Again

by Sophie King

  ‘Keep trying.’ Hugh indicated the phone which was by her plate. ‘No, really. I don’t think you’re rude. You need to get hold of her to try and sort things out. I do know how tricky young people are.’

  Young people? That was a phrase, Alison couldn’t help thinking, generally used by those who don’t have children themselves. Like Caroline. Any minute now and he’d be saying that he had Godchildren or nephews or nieces so he totally understood.

  ‘I have a niece who used to be a bit like your daughter. Still is, in fact.’ His face darkened slightly. ‘But it’s not her fault. We have to make allowances.’

  She waited. Suddenly the jovial, almost self-effacing man she’d met at meetings appeared to take on a different persona. Angry even.

  ‘Did something happen?’ she asked quietly.

  ‘Yes.’

  He picked up his glass.

  ‘And . . . and is your sister able to cope?’

  ‘She died.’

  ‘How awful. I’m so sorry.’

  ‘Thank you. I don’t normally talk about it so if you don’t mind, let’s move onto something else, shall we?’ His face was back to the usual polite one now. ‘Why don’t you tell me about that interview you had earlier in the week?’

  It was difficult to change the tone after that but by the time she’d described the interviewer (younger than Jules) and the job (cold calls for an IT company), she’d almost succeeded.

  ‘There were over seventy applicants!’ She drained her glass without meaning to. ‘The agency said I was rejected because of my lack of experience but they could have seen that from my CV. Personally, I think it’s because I said I had no idea how to twitter and that it was best left to the birds.’

  Her weak joke might have fallen flat with anyone else but he was smiling and managing to nod sympathetically at the same time which made her feel good. He was leaning towards her now, his eyes fixed on her in a way that made her feel both uneasy and – heavens! – apprehensive but in a nice way. ‘Excuse me for asking, but do you have to work? I mean you have a lovely house so presumably . . . I suppose what I’m really saying is that your husband must be making some financial provision and that if he isn’t, you are surely legally entitled to claim it.’

  ‘You’d get on well with my sister. She keeps saying the same thing and she’s been good enough to let me do a bit of admin for her, but it’s only temporary. I did see a solicitor but now the children are older, I am only entitled to half our assets.’ She smiled ruefully. ‘It’s not easy running a house like mine, as you put it, on that. Unless I find a job, I shall have to sell.’

  He made a sympathetic face. ‘I did the same, but in fact I gave most of it to my ex-wife.’

  ‘You did?’

  He shrugged. ‘I don’t like arguments. And besides, I have independent means.’

  She’d have liked to ask more but it would have seemed rude. ‘And do you see much of your wife now?’

  ‘She moved away.’

  There it was again. That face. That silence which discouraged any more questions. Clearly this was a private man. And why not? Who said they had to tell each other everything in one go?

  ‘Do you find the meetings useful?’

  His question took her by surprise.

  ‘I do, actually. Karen is lovely.’

  ‘A very kind woman, if slightly scatty.’ He looked as though he was going to say more but stopped. ‘Well, it’s been a lovely evening. Thank you. But I ought to be taking you home, now. Don’t you think?’

  Caroline rang the following morning before she’d even had a chance to get to the bathroom. Too late now! It was only ten minutes before seven but already someone (Clive? His rather odd-looking friend with the unshaven chin?) was in the bathroom. She really ought to think about installing a shower in her own room; but how much would that cost?

  ‘Well then, how did it go?’

  Her sister’s bossy tone made it clear she expected all the details. Briefly, she let slip that it ended more abruptly than she had expected.

  ‘Maybe he just didn’t fancy you.’

  Thank you, Caroline. Her mind went back to his goodbye on her doorstep. ‘No thank you,’ he’d said in what sounded like a slightly regretful tone. He wouldn’t come in for a coffee right now. But would she like to go out to dinner again? Good. Then he would ring her.

  ‘So are you seeing him again?’

  Her sister’s insistent questioning brought her back to the present.

  ‘Maybe.’

  Caroline snorted. ‘That means yes, then. Well be careful. That’s all I’ll say. David’s only been gone five seconds. When did this Hugh’s marriage break up? Not on the rebound, is he? I’ve had a few of those myself.’

  She didn’t know exactly, Alison was forced to admit. But she’d find out soon enough. Glancing down at her mobile, Alison felt a little thrill of satisfaction shooting through her at the text message which had come through just before Caroline’s call.

  ‘Thanks 4 last nt. Am away for a bit but how abt Wed in three wks time? Dinner at my place.’

  Away for three weeks? She felt a pang of disappointment combined with relief; it wouldn’t be a bad thing to take it slowly if indeed there was anything to ‘take’ at all.

  No sooner had she put the phone down, than someone came out of the bathroom. Good. Just time to . . . No. Too late. The door was closing again and someone else had gone in. Now there wouldn’t be any hot water and . . .

  The doorbell! Her heart soared with expectation, It might be Jules! She’d come back to say she was sorry. To say she knew that Mum was the injured party and that . . .

  ‘Karen!’

  Her eyes fell on a small basket that Karen was holding. From inside, she could hear little yelps. Alison’s heart contorted. It sounded just like Mungo when he’d been little.

  ‘Sorry we’re a bit early.’ Karen was breathless and clearly flummoxed. She held out the basket to her. ‘It’s very good of you, Alison. It really is. Here’s his food. He just needs a couple of walks until I’m back. You can’t exercise them much at this age.’

  All she could do was stare at her. ‘I don’t understand. You want me to look after your puppy?’

  ‘Didn’t you get the message? Your son said it would be fine when I rang. I explained I needed someone to look after Sam just for the day because no one can come in to feed or walk him.’

  ‘My son?’

  ‘I presumed it was. He had a very deep voice.’

  Clive’s friend!

  ‘Said you were out but that he’d leave a note and that you’d probably say yes.’

  ‘That’s my new lodger, actually. And he had no right . . .’

  Another yelp which made something flip inside Alison’s chest.

  ‘Oh dear.’ Karen bit her lip. ‘If it’s impossible I’ll have to find someone else although I don’t know who at this time of the morning. I’m afraid I’ve got a few problems myself at the moment – that’s why I had to cancel this month’s meeting. You did get that message too, didn’t you?’

  She hadn’t. ‘It’s all right,’ Alison heard herself saying. ‘Just tell me when the puppy needs feeding. I’ll manage.’

  32

  KAREN

  Karen felt really bad about cancelling another meeting. She was meant to be running a self-help group, for heaven’s sake! ‘It gets better’ was the message she’d been trying to put across every month.

  So how on earth could she explain that – although it did get better if you thought about the Friday evenings to yourself with the cats and the wine and the late-night chat show – it got worse in other ways which was why she’d had to shelve tonight’s meeting.

  ‘Never underestimate the long-term effects of family fall-out after a divorce,’ she’d read in one of her self-help books.

  And it was true.

  Just look at Adam. If it hadn’t been for her own experience, she would never have covered up for her daughter-in-law.

  ‘I can’t be
lieve you didn’t tell me about the abortion,’ he had roared.

  The intensity of his pain had sliced through her just as it had when he’d been three and she had felt – physically felt – the sharp searing agony of the nail going through his finger when he’d picked up a piece of wood at the bottom of the garden.

  Since the argument over three weeks ago, her son had ignored her. Refused to answer the phone when she’d rung even when she’d blanked her caller ID so he couldn’t have known it was her. Refused to answer the door when she went round although she could swear it was him behind the curtain even though the lights were all off.

  As for Hayley . . . heaven knows what had happened there. She hadn’t been able to get hold of her either. Neither of them had brought little Josh round and frankly, she was sick with worry.

  So sick that she had called into the office and said she was very sorry but something had come up and she would try to get in later that afternoon.

  ‘Great,’ her boss had said tersely. ‘On press day. Thanks very much.’

  She’d just have to explain later, thought Karen, running down Alison’s smart street (how lovely to see daffodils out!) after dropping off the puppy. If she didn’t get a move on, she’d miss Adam.

  Just as well he’d told her where he was working. But it was certainly different from the last firm Adam had worked for. She eyed the brown door warily. The plate next to it announced that this was a financial consultancy outfit. Adam was an accountant. What was going on?

  ‘Hello?’

  She peered through a doorway at the girl sitting behind the desk. She was wearing pink trainers. Scruffy rather than the sparkly variety. There was torn lino. A funny smell.

  ‘Sorry to bother you.’

  The girl barely looked up. ‘Yes?’

  Not the kind of tone you’d use for someone who might be a prospective client, thought Karen.

  ‘I’m looking for my son.’

  Even as she said it, Karen realised this probably wasn’t a good idea. A mother looking for a grown-up son in his office.

  ‘It’s a bit of an emergency.’

  Well it was, wasn’t it?

  ‘What’s his name?’

  Maybe there were more people here than she’d thought.

  ‘Adam. Adam Davies.’

  ‘Sorry.’

  The girl was staring at her. Christ, thought Karen. Adam had been lying to her. He’d done what some men did when they’d lost a job. Pretended that he’d got another. Went out of the house every day with a briefcase and . . .

  ‘Your son’s not here.’

  So he did have a job! Karen felt a surge of relief. What had she been thinking of?

  ‘When will he be back?’

  The girl had collected all the papers together now and was putting them in a drawer in a random fashion.

  ‘He won’t.’

  What?

  ‘He resigned. Last week. Without any notice. Extremely inconvenient actually.’

  Adam had left his job? But how would they manage? And where was he? Please God don’t let him have done something stupid. It was all her fault. Why hadn’t she told him the truth instead of allowing her stupid womanly instincts to take over. There was only one thing for it. What day was it? Thursday. That meant Hayley’s shift would only have started an hour ago. With any luck she would still be there.

  ‘After you.’

  The woman behind her in the queue looked at her as though she was mad. People in this part of town didn’t generally allow other people to go first. ‘No, really.’ Karen could hear her own voice sounding desperate. ‘I’m not in a hurry and besides I’ve got more than you.’

  The woman looked down at Karen’s two tins of baked beans in her basket, shrugged and shifted past her to the till. Had Hayley seen her? If so, she was making a good job of not showing it. With any luck, she could have a quick word with her before someone else joined the queue. Good. Her turn now.

  ‘I can’t talk.’ Hayley was carefully studying the bar code on the beans instead of Karen’s face. ‘And even if I could, I’ve got nothing to say. I’m not having him back.’

  Not having him back?

  ‘He left?’

  ‘Hasn’t he told you?’

  Karen felt sick. ‘I haven’t seen him. He won’t return my calls. He’s left his job.’

  Hayley made a small snort as though that didn’t surprise her.

  The panic had turned into bile in her mouth. ‘So where is he?’

  ‘I don’t know. And frankly, Karen, I don’t care. It’s gone too far.’

  Her words exactly when she left Paul all those years ago. Four words that had turned a family upside down and sent shock waves reverberating through a generation that hadn’t even been born yet.

  ‘It’s not too late.’ She was struggling with the words like treacle, knowing as she said them that it might well be. ‘You need to talk.’

  Hayley wiped a strand of damp hair away from her forehead. ‘How can I do that if he won’t return my calls either.’

  ‘Hayley!’

  A sharp voice rang out from the back of the shop.

  Hayley’s eyes were scared. ‘Please go Karen or you’ll get me the sack.’

  She had to talk to someone or she’d go mad. For one insane moment, she almost wanted to tell Paul but that was no good. He’d promised to ring her last Thursday night when his phone card was renewed. But he hadn’t. That was commitment for you.

  But who then? It had to be someone who would understand her past – all of it. That ruled out virtually everyone then. Except Doris.

  Karen’s mother-in-law answered the door of her cosy flat so fast, that Karen suspected she must have been sitting on the other side like she always did; one eye on the television and another on the street in the hope someone would ‘pop by’. She ought to visit more often. She really ought.

  ‘Clear, isn’t it?’

  Doris’s eyes were startlingly clear despite the watery blue. The same went for her native Yorkshire accent. ‘The lass has got someone else. She had an abortion ‘cos it was someone else’s nipper and Adam got out. Don’t blame him really.’

  ‘Hayley wouldn’t do anything like that!’

  ‘Then who was the fella you saw her with?’

  ‘She said it was someone she worked with. A friend.’

  Even as she said it, Karen knew it didn’t sound right.

  ‘Believe that and you’ll believe anything. You ought to ask Paul what he thinks – he’s Adam’s dad. He deserves to know, love.’ Doris reached out and squeezed her arm. ‘When are you seeing him next?’

  ‘He’s coming round for lunch soon on one of his town visits. He’s allowed to go home, apparently.’

  ‘Home?’

  Doris’s eyes lit up with hope as she settled herself in the blue and pink Parker Knoll chair that Karen could remember for as long as she had known her.

  ‘Well, not home, obviously. But to see family. Lisa, his parole officer, says they approve of it in certain situations.’

  Doris nodded. ‘Good.’

  Karen felt the panic mounting. ‘But it’s no good, is it? Not if we can’t find Adam. God knows where he is. I should never have told him about the abortion. Supposing he’s done something awful? Like . . .’

  ‘Give over, love.’ Doris struggled to her feet. ‘Give your boy his due. He’s made of stronger stuff than that. ADAM!’

  Had Doris gone mad?

  ‘ADAM! Come out of there, lad. Your mother’s here to see you. She’s got summat to say.’

  ‘He’s here? You knew all the time?’

  Doris shrugged. ‘Well the lad had to go somewhere, didn’t he? He’s calmed down a bit but you’ve still got a lot of explaining to do. Adam. Out of there. Have some respect for your mum. That your phone making a funny noise?’

  It was. Karen glanced at the text message and froze. It was from Alison.

  Plse ring. Pblem with the dog.

  33

  ED

  Us
ually, Ed loved going into work every morning. Loved casually mentioning to people who didn’t know him well that he was ‘off to the office’. And from looking at his jeans and trainers, an outsider would be perfectly within his or her rights to think that he had some lowly job in an office or maybe a call centre.

  Anything except the boss.

  Not of course that Ed was a traditional boss. Not many company heads tucked into their lunchtime baguettes in the little park opposite with some of the staff, something they’d just started to do again now spring was here. The new ones found it a bit odd at first so Ed always had to put them at their ease. Offer them a bit of his cheese and pickle so they started to open up and let him joke along with the rest of them.

  ‘I don’t want them to think I’m a spoilt little rich boy who’s inherited Daddy’s business,’ Ed sometimes told Nancy.

  To give her her due, Nancy didn’t try to contradict him. She didn’t want to be known as a rich man’s widow, either. Which was why she hadn't given up her job.

  But after that awful night at Casualty, work had suddenly lost its thrill. For the first time, Ed had actually felt nervous as he’d walked in through the heavy swing door; rather like an employee who knew that the writing was on the wall.

  What would September say? Could he get her to understand that Lizzie had been a friend and not a girlfriend?

  Oh God. Her desk was empty. Maybe she was in the loo. At a meeting. Anywhere as long as it was in the building. ‘Where’s September?’ he’d asked someone. ‘I mean, Sarah?’

  ‘Phoned in sick,’ he was told. ‘Won’t be back for a bit apparently. Sounded serious.’

  It was.

  Today, however, HR (a fancy name for Jean in what used to be called Personnel) reassured him with just a hint of a knowing smile, that ‘Sarah’ was back! Just as well he’d put on a fresh pair of jeans with a collarless cream shirt topped with his brown leather jacket (that The Kid, little bugger, had tried to borrow). As he walked up to reception – there she was! – he began to sweat.