Got You Back

by Fallon, Jane

  Katie was overwhelmed. ‘Owen, that's great. That's such a positive step. I'm really pleased for you. And you wait, other good things will follow. They always do.’

  ‘I'm going to pay you back. It'll only be a bit a week but I'll do it. Eventually,’ he laughed.

  In fact, he had come straight from work to tell her he would no longer be able to keep his Wednesday-morning appointments. It was a luxury he simply couldn't afford any more and he was no longer prepared to keep taking something for nothing. He owed it all to her, he said, this new change of outlook. Maybe, once he had paid off his debt to her and saved up some money, she would rethink his invitation to take her out to dinner. Katie, delighted though she was by the proof that what she did could make a difference, had no intention of saying yes. The last thing she needed was to hook up with another man, especially one whose insecurities and failings she already knew intimately.

  ‘You really don't have to,’ she said now, politely. ‘But it's very kind of you to ask.’

  Owen flushed red. ‘I didn't mean like a date or anything. The invitation's for both of you, you and James,’ he stuttered.

  ‘Honestly, Owen, save your money. Thank you, though. It's a really lovely thought.’ She kissed him on the cheek as if to signal that their chat was over. ‘Good luck,’ she said, ‘with everything.’

  Sally O'Connell's uncle, Paul Goddard, had always had an amiable working relationship with the local vet. He found James to be reliable and prompt, even when called out in an emergency. There was no doubting his sensitivity and compassion when it came to handling animals but with none of the sentimentality that Paul had no time for. If you were a farmer you had to believe your livestock were a commodity. Treat them well, by all means — a happy cow was a healthy cow after all, and healthy cows produced superior milk, in Paul's mind — but remember that they were, above all, your livelihood.

  He had always sent round a bottle of whisky for James on Christmas Eve, in appreciation of his services and because they came cheap due to the arrangement they had whereby Paul would pay James in cash. This had always seemed like a sensible way to do business to Paul: there were no losers, both parties came away up and, besides, everybody did it. He barely even gave it a second thought.

  When the man from the Inland Revenue turned up at his front door one afternoon and started asking questions, Paul's first instinct was to deny everything. After all, if he didn't admit to it and neither did James then no one would ever be able to prove them wrong. Then he remembered the look on his niece's tear-stained face the night before, when she had told him about her visit from her old boss and the accusations he had thrown her way, and suddenly he didn't feel like protecting this man.

  ‘It's easier for me to pay him in cash,’ he found himself saying to the suited man with the clipboard. ‘That way I know exactly where I am. I don't like bank accounts,’ he added, playing the role of simple farmer to perfection. In fact, Paul not only had a healthy bank balance but also an ISA, which he topped up once a year. Since he'd turned the farm organic, things had really started to look up financially.

  ‘What he does with it then is his business, isn't that right? Whether he tells you lot about it or not, well, that's nothing to do with me.’

  The man had thanked him for his time and his candid answers and had gone off happy. That'll teach the fucker, Paul thought. Sally had always been his favourite niece.

  By the time James got back to London on Wednesday afternoon he felt like he wanted to go into the bedroom, close the curtains, crawl into bed, pull the covers over his head and never come out again. He was feeling besieged, run ragged by trying to keep the surgery going without a receptionist and sure they were losing custom. He had heard on the grapevine that when one of Paul Goddard's cows had calved in the middle of the night Paul had called in a vet from the next village over. James, who had had his phone turned on as always, waiting for Paul's call, which he knew was imminent, had been both bemused and hurt in equal measures.

  He had barely seen Katie in the evenings because of all her new work, and her little cottage had started to feel like a prison, no longer a place where two people were content to ignore the fact that it was tiny and poky because they were so happy to be playing house together. It struck him now as a ridiculous place for a man of his age to be living. If you stood in the living room and turned round you could touch all four walls. Was this what he had worked hard for all his adult life? To live in a Wendy house with a woman who was hardly ever there?

  And then, of course, there was this business with Sally and the Inland Revenue and the planning department. Plus the fact that Malcolm and Simon hardly seemed to be talking to him any more. When he had tried to confide in Katie about his worries she had blithely told him that everything happened for a reason, it would all work out for the best in the end, and he had found himself cutting the conversation short. What was the point in talking to someone who was only ever going to tell you what they thought you wanted to hear?

  London, by contrast, held no terrors. He could do his job and then spend quiet evenings with Stephanie and Finn. He could relax and not feel as if everyone was out to get him. He could just be at home. When he first walked through the door at five past four — he no longer bothered to stop off on his journey down, he just wanted to get to Belsize Park as early as he could — and smelt the familiar smell, a mixture of coffee and polish and Finn's particular small boy odour that mixed shampoo and guinea pigs and trainers, he felt a lump come into his throat. This was his real life. This was his family.

  Finn came bowling out to meet him, full of stories of school and David and his friends, and things that James, away half the week and, he thought now, absent in his head much of the time when he was physically there, couldn't make head or tail of but the details of which made him laugh. His son had a great sense of drama when he was telling a story.

  He had found Stephanie in the kitchen and, as she turned to greet him, he was struck by the distance that had sprung up between them. When they had first come down to London she would throw herself into his arms whenever he walked through the door on a Wednesday evening and then, on Saturday nights when they were curled up in bed, she would cry about the fact that he had to leave again the next day. It had got on his nerves at the time. He so resented the fact that he had been forced into this dual existence that he had been sceptical about her tears — if she cared that much then surely she would give up her work again and move back to Lincolnshire. Now, as she smiled coolly and asked politely how his journey had been, he felt he would have given anything for an indication that she was happy to see him.

  She looked beautiful, he thought with a jolt. Well, he had always known she was stunning physically, but in the past few years Katie's earthy softness had seemed so much more arousing than Stephanie's willowy angles. Katie's need for protection had drawn him in whereas Stephanie's independence had pushed him away. He went to hug her and felt her stiffen for a split second before she relaxed and, half-heartedly, patted him on the back. A wave of utter misery swept over him and he squeezed her tighter, burying his head in the silkiness of her hair. She allowed him to stay there for a second before she gently pushed him away and turned back to the vegetables she was chopping.

  ‘Finn, come and sit down and do your homework,’ she called, effectively cutting short any moment of intimacy they might have had.

  29

  With the BAFTAs only a few days away Stephanie hadn't really been putting the effort into planning James's party that she should have. She had sent out the invitations, and received mostly acceptances, and had hired the caterers — a Japanese firm who would come to your house with their bags of big scary knives and prepare sashimi in the kitchen while the guests stood around, admiring their skill — but that was about it. She decided to phone Katie to see how her preparations were coming along. At least, that was the pretext for her call. In reality, she was starting to worry about Katie. James had told her that Sally had tipped off the planning
department about the extension he had had built at the back of the surgery but she had her suspicions. Katie seemed to have had some kind of epiphany since they had first met and agreed on their plans. As if she was transforming from a sweet, hurt woman into some kind of vengeful crusader. Stephanie, who knew that the whole idea of their taking revenge had come from her, was now afraid that she had created a monster she couldn't contain.

  Katie answered on the second ring. Her voice, Stephanie thought, sounded as sweet and unthreatening as ever.

  ‘Stephanie, hi, how's it going?’

  ‘Good,’ Stephanie said. ‘I just wondered where you were, you know, with the party and stuff.’

  Katie told her about the decorations she had planned for the village hall, the yards of white muslin that would transform the inside into a kind of Bedouin tent and the white tablecloths and crockery offset by the green foliage of the white lilies she had selected. It all sounded a bit like a wedding, Stephanie thought, hardly James's taste at all. She realized she had stopped listening when she suddenly heard Katie laugh and say, ‘Mind you, I doubt he'll have any friends left to invite by then.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Stephanie said.

  So, Katie told her the full story about Sally and her uncle Paul, and how, now, James had got to have a meeting with the Inland Revenue to explain himself and would probably be facing a fine or, at the very least, would have to pay what he owed. And how he had gone to see Sam McNeil to ask if, in her capacity at the planning department, she could give him some advice as to how to handle the retrospective permission for the extension and how she had gone ballistic and accused him of trying to get her to pull some strings for him and get him some kind of special treatment. And how even Simon and Malcolm were barely speaking to James now and several of the surgery's customers had chosen to move their business to the vets in the next village over. And Stephanie listened to it all and found that she was starting to feel sorry for him, despite everything he had done to her.

  ‘How did the planning people find out about the extension?’ she asked, knowing what the answer would be.

  ‘I told them,’ Katie said, sounding like a two-year-old who thought she was about to be congratulated for going to the toilet on the laminate instead of the carpet. ‘Anonymously, of course.’

  Stephanie sighed. ‘I thought we'd agreed not to do anything without discussing it first,’ she said lamely.

  ‘I know. I did try to ring you. It's funny, though, isn't it?’

  ‘It's just that we don't want to blow everything before the party. Isn't that the point?’ Stephanie said, although she no longer felt her heart was in this plan at all.

  ‘Well, he deserves it,’ Katie said, with venom. ‘And he's so arrogant, he'll never think it's anything to do with me. So what if a few people don't come to his party? He'll still get what he deserves.’

  ‘Maybe we should forget the whole thing,’ Stephanie said. ‘We've given him a few things to worry about. We should just dump him and move on.’

  ‘Hold on,’ Katie said. ‘Wasn't it you who said it would be a travesty if he got away scot-free?’

  ‘I know. But now I'm not so sure. It all feels a bit… I don't know… over the top.’

  ‘Stephanie, you need to do this for your self-esteem after everything he did to you. And so do I. Besides what would be the point in backing out now?’

  ‘OK,’ Stephanie said, without enthusiasm, ‘but no more surprises.’

  ‘I promise,’ Katie said. ‘It's only two weeks. We have to stay strong.’

  Stephanie found herself agreeing reluctantly. The truth was that lately she had stopped caring whether or not James got his comeuppance. She just wanted to move on.

  Luckily for Stephanie, Natasha was in the mood for giving one of her pep talks when she saw her later that day. It was Meredith's last free time before the event at the weekend so she was in the office trying on shoes to go with the hideous green dress, which she was still insisting on wearing. Because no designer in their right mind would have manufactured anything which remotely matched the nauseating bright green of the dress, Stephanie had reluctantly promised that they would dye Meredith's favourites in time for Sunday. She was trying to steer Meredith away from a beautiful pair of off-white Jimmy Choos, which she didn't have it in her to ruin, and towards a much cheaper high-street pair. Meredith, however, was having none of it and, cramming her blistery feet into the exquisite open-toed sandals, declared that these were the ones she wanted.

  ‘They're three hundred pounds,’ Natasha said, trying to put her off.

  Meredith scowled. ‘Won't they lend them to us? I am a nominee after all.’

  Stephanie shook her head, trying not to laugh. She couldn't imagine the conversation she might have to have with the Jimmy Choo press office, offering up Meredith as a walking fat-footed advertisement for their delicate shoes. ‘Not if we dye them, no.’

  In the end Meredith, who was always money-conscious and was, Stephanie knew, already resentful of the fee she was having to pay to be styled at all, had plumped for the cheaper option. Stephanie had confirmed with her all the details of the car for Sunday that would bring her to the office to get ready. Ordinarily either Stephanie or Natasha would have gone to her house, but with three clients to dress the practicalities meant that that wasn't possible.

  Once Meredith had left, Stephanie and Natasha flopped down on the sofa and resumed the conversation they had been having before she arrived.

  ‘The point is,’ Natasha began, as if they had never been interrupted, ‘just because you're feeling a bit better doesn't mean you should lose sight of the original objective.’

  ‘It just feels really petty suddenly,’ Stephanie said, leaning her head back against the sofa's cushions. ‘The grown-up thing to do would be to tell him I know and that it's all over between us, and then we can separate with dignity. And that's got to be better for Finn, surely.’

  ‘OK, so you're feeling positive because you've been on a date with someone else…’ Stephanie had finally got up the courage to confide in her friend about Michael. Natasha's response had been to hug her happily.

  ‘Two dates, actually,’ Stephanie interrupted. ‘But I'll tell you about that in a minute.’

  ‘Really?’ Natasha's eyes widened. ‘Anyway, so you're feeling positive because you've been on two dates with someone else, even though you didn't tell me about the second one till now and I'm supposed to be your best friend, but… you're not assuming you're going to run off and marry Michael,’ she looked at Stephanie enquiringly, ‘or are you?’

  Stephanie laughed. ‘Obviously not.’

  ‘Exactly. So, while you may not care about getting back at James now because you've got Michael as a bit of a distraction, that doesn't mean you'll feel like that for ever. You have to remember how important it felt to you that you make him suffer like he'd made you suffer. All I'm saying is that it's still important, for your long-term well-being and all that. At least, I think it is. There! Speech over.’

  ‘OK, OK, I'll stick to the plan. Just so long as Katie does. Happy now?’

  Natasha nodded. ‘Extremely. Now, tell me about Michael. I can't believe you saw him again and didn't mention it.’

  So, Stephanie told her how Michael had called her on Tuesday morning and that they had ended up agreeing to meet up for dinner that evening. He had booked a table at the Wolseley, which was somewhere Stephanie had casually mentioned to him that she had always meant to go but had never got around to. They had talked about real stuff, she told Natasha, a proper grown-up conversation. Michael had opened up about his ex-wife and how she had announced out of the blue that she had been feeling resentful and taken for granted for years and that she wasn't going to put up with it any longer, which meant that he had very strong views on honesty in relationships. Views that coincided exactly with Stephanie's own. It had been a thoroughly enjoyable evening, and there was nothing else to report.

  ‘No kiss goodnight?’

  ‘I tol
d you,’ Stephanie said defensively. ‘Michael's got principles and so have I. As long as James and I are still together nothing's going to happen. But I am going to see him again next week.’

  ‘So you've told James about your little dates?’

  ‘Of course not. He'd go crazy.’

  ‘So Michael's OK about going out for secret evenings with you behind your husband's back as long as you don't kiss?’

  ‘What are you saying?’ Stephanie said, irritated. ‘Are you implying I'm doing something wrong after everything James has done to me?’

  Natasha cut in, laughing. ‘Calm down! Of course I'm not saying you're doing anything wrong. I'm saying in for a penny… If you're seeing him behind James's back anyway you might as well jump him. What's the difference?’

  ‘The difference,’ Stephanie said, ‘is that I don't want to be like James. I want to be able to look back and say I behaved impeccably. OK?’

  30

  It was a weekend that ordinarily James would have dreaded. Stephanie had to be at work all day on Saturday, buying last-minute bits and pieces and making sure her three clients were happy with their manicures and pedicures and whatever else they needed to have done before a big occasion like the BAFTAs and then, of course, she would be out on the big day itself. James had agreed to stay until she returned once her clients were safely in their cars and off to the event, probably at about four o'clock.

  He found, when he went to bed the night before, that he was actually looking forward to it. He could take Finn to the zoo — not just past it this time but actually inside. Finn, used to only ever seeing the wallabies and a few other random things that could be viewed for free from the park, would think all his Christmases had come at once. Or they could go on the Eye or maybe to the Tower. Or perhaps, James thought, it would be better to stay at home playing games on the computer or in the garden. Whatever Finn wanted to do.