Falling in Love Again (24 page)

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 believe 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

Usually, 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.

‘September?’

Her back was turned away from him in the ergonomically designed swivel chair he’d had installed for reception. ‘Smith and Dad,’ she was saying in that lovely, bright voice which made him feel that the sun had just come out. Usually, Ed got a real thrill when he heard someone saying those words. After his death, he hadn’t wanted his father to go so the name change seemed right.

‘Certainly, sir. I’ll just put you through.’

He hovered uncertainly, waiting for her to swivel round. Bugger. She was taking another call now.

‘Smith and Dad!’

What could he do? Cough! Good idea. Now she must know someone was standing there. It actually looked quite rude speaking with her back to him. Supposing he had been a visitor?

‘I’m afraid he’s not in yet. May I take a message?’

Was it his imagination or was she turning the chair even more away from him. He could look at her back all day with that gorgeous glossy auburn hair that made him want to run his hands through it; breathe in the smell; run his tongue round the nape of her neck . . .

‘Smith and Dad!’

That’s when he noticed!

She wasn’t talking to anyone at all! The little minx was using the spare phone. Look! It was actually unplugged. September was just doing this to avoid him.

Clever!

Whipping out his mobile, he rang the main number. Immediately, the right phone rang out – the one in front of him which meant she had to swivel round and pick it up.

Yes. She was answering while at the same time managing not to look in his direction, which was pretty difficult considering he was standing right in front of her.

‘Smith and Dad!’

‘It’s me,’ he said down the line.

Her smile vanished and her eyes, he noticed, with a thud of apprehension, lost their sparkle.

‘No, don’t put the phone down. Please. I want to talk to you.’

‘I’m afraid I can’t take a message at the moment!’

‘September, please. Look at me. Lizzie isn’t – or wasn’t – my girlfriend. She just happened to be with me when I got the message about my stepbrother. So she came to the hospital as support.’

‘Support? Just happened to be with you?’

This was said in a lower tone without the Smith and Dad lilt.

‘Honestly. We were together at a sort of meeting.’

He paused as one of the young men from the post room went past.

‘Certainly, sir. Would you like to give me details about the ‘meeting’?’

Was this for the post boy’s benefit or his?

‘OK.’ He studied the crack in the wall behind her for support. ‘I’ll tell you. Every month, I go to this meeting at this woman’s house where a load of single people meet up for…’

She’d cut him off.

‘September, let me finish!’

He grabbed her wrists before he could stop himself. They felt wafer thin but warm at the same time. ‘We meet up for support. To help each other get over broken marriages. It’s not a dating group. I promise.’

‘You are hurting me.’

‘I’m sorry.’ He dropped her wrists. ‘I just need you to understand.’

She laughed. Not the lovely tinkly laugh she’d entranced him with before but a bitter laugh which didn’t sound as though it was natural. ‘I understand all right. I understand that I let myself fall for someone who everyone else warned me against when I joined. Did you know that, Ed? Did you know that you are known as the serial husband who can’t stop getting married but then moves on whenever he thinks it’s not working out. Your dad was the same apparently. A perfectionist who got rid of people or things if there was the slightest flaw.’

‘No. No. You’ve got it wrong . . .’

‘Smith and Dad!’

This time, it was the correct phone. Besides, Garth, his PA, was walking past giving him a meaningful look. He knew exactly what that meant. Board meeting in five minutes. Don’t be late. He might be an unconventional boss but there were some things that couldn’t change.

‘Garth!’ He rushed to keep up as he made his way down the corridor; a lovely glassy, airy corridor that was festooned with pot plants and apple juice machines to keep everyone happy. Except him.

His PA, with that immaculately groomed hair which tried to compensate for his dress sense (too-short trousers and collarless shirts with ties), had worked for him from day one. If anyone was going to tell him the truth, it was him. And Nancy of course. ‘Does everyone think I’m the serial husband who can’t stop getting married but then moves on when he thinks it’s not working?’

Garth patted him kindly on the shoulder. ‘Sure they do, Ed. But don’t worry about it. It’s part of your eccentricities. We love you for it. Just like we loved your dad. Now buck up or you’ll be late for the meeting.’ His eyes flickered. ‘And judging from the minutes, you’ve got something rather important to talk about.’

Ed’s dad had warned him about the board. ‘Load of stuck up pricks,’ he had written in one of the many notes Ed had found after his father’s death, as though he’d been preparing for this instead of being suddenly struck down by a heart attack. ‘Stick to your guns and they’ll give in. Watch out for Andrew. He’s the worst.’

Indeed, it was Andrew now who was giving him hell. ‘Let me get this right.’ He glanced at the agenda notes. ‘Some anonymous business is demanding twenty per cent of the shares in the company and their lawyers are claiming that your father agreed to this before his death.’

‘Apparently.’ Ed continued to outstare him. Don’t take your eyes away, his father’s notes had instructed. Bore him out.

‘And do we know why?’

‘Not yet. I’m working on it.’

‘How?’

‘I’ve got an investigator on the case.’

‘But is it legal?’

This question was from the latest member of the board; a woman called Eileen who had worked for his father before his marriage to Nancy. He could dimly remember her staying overnight once when he was a child but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. Not in his father’s book.

Andrew snorted. ‘You’d better find out, young Ed. Because frankly, this is looking dodgy. I’ve got an investment in this company, remember. And I can pull out any time.’

Could he?

Ed looked across to Garth whose eyes gave him a silent nod. Thanks Dad. That was one thing your notes didn’t mention.

‘No.’

He could almost see Nancy shaking her head emphatically from the sun bed in Antigua (work, she had said, although what kind of clothes did they sell out there?). ‘No I don’t think your father was having an affair with someone. He loved
me
, Ed.’

Ed took a deep breath. Maybe he shouldn’t have had this conversation on the mobile. Especially with this reception. But he couldn’t wait for Nancy to come back. Two weeks was a long time to sweat over all the possibilities.

‘But supposing he’d had an affair with someone else before you . . .’

‘Which he did, several times.’

Exactly.

‘And supposing there was a child . . .’ he hated to even say this out loud but let’s face it, it was a distinct possibility. ‘A child whom he was leaving money to.’

‘I don’t know.’

Nancy’s voice was fading either because of the implications or because of the reception. ‘Let’s talk when I’m back, Ed. I’ve got to go now.’

He almost threw the mobile onto the kitchen island – a smart marbled affair which he used as a goal post every now and then.

‘Missed!’

The Kid sauntered in, holding a mobile against each ear, looking none the worse for wear for his binge drinking the other night. Frankly, he didn’t know how they did it.

‘I hope that’s water.’

Ed nodded at the glass The Kid was carrying.

‘I’ve gotta ring back, Jess. Something’s up.’

One mobile down. One to go.

‘I said, is that water?’

‘Kerry? Call yer later. OK?’

Two down.

‘I
said
‘Is that water’?’

Jamie rolled his eyes.

‘Sure it is. Want a sip?’

If he did have a sip, it would indicate he didn’t trust him. That he didn’t believe The Kid when he’d promised not to drink so much again and that yes, all right, he’d start to work for his re-sits.

‘Are you revising?’

‘Are you chatting breeze, Ed? The exams aren’t for ages.’

‘Yes but you said you’d start early.’

‘I am. Tomorrow like. But I need a break.’

‘You have more breaks than the fracture clinic.’

‘Weren’t
you
young once?’

‘Where are you going now?’

‘Out, Ed.’

‘Not with . . .’

He stopped, unable to say  her name.

The Kid grinned. ‘No, not with Tatiana or her friend. I promised, Ed. Remember? By the way, have you got any pee I can borrow?’

Pee?

The Kid rolled his eyes. ‘Money. A fiver. Or preferably more. I’ll pay you back. And you wouldn’t want me to be stuck somewhere dangerous without any pee to get back, would you?’

Ed dug his hand into his right pocket. ‘That’s bribery. You can have a fiver but no more.’

‘Nang. See yer.’

And he was gone.

Ed waited until the door shut and then he lifted up the glass and sniffed it. No smell. Vodka or water?

Trust him.

Why?

Because he promised.

Yeah right.

‘See?’ The Kid was at the door again – how had he got back so quietly? ‘I told you, Ed. It
is
water, isn’t it? By the way, someone rang. Some woman. Claire someone. Didn’t leave a number. Said she’d ring back. Nice to see you’re back in the game, Ed.’