The Real Katie Lavender (42 page)

He shrank away from her. ‘You can’t help me. Nobody can.’

‘Why? What have you done?’

‘I’ve ruined everything.’ He groaned and started to rock, backwards and forwards, backwards and forwards. He still hadn’t looked at her. He was crying now.

Oh God, what had he done? What could he possibly have done to reduce himself to this awful state? Frightened, Gina could only think that he was having some kind of breakdown. ‘I’m going to call for a doctor,’ she said firmly.

He stopped rocking. ‘No!’ he cried.

‘But you’re ill.’

‘No! Please. No doctors.’

‘But I’m scared, Stirling. I don’t know what to do to help you.’ She put her arms around him. He started rocking again. She moved with him, gentling him as if he was a baby. She rubbed his back, trying to soothe him. Confused and frightened, she began to cry as well. How had they reached this awful point? How had they gone from heaven to hell in one such easy step? She felt Stirling’s head raise and then it came to rest on her shoulder. He slipped his arms around her. ‘I’m so sorry,’ he moaned, ‘so very sorry. Forgive me, please.’

Rosco hadn’t heard his mobile ringing when he’d been in the car – he’d hiked up the volume on the CD player to block out any thoughts of his father – but now, at home, a second large glass of Jack Daniel’s in his hand, he saw that he’d missed three calls, all of them from Laura. Oh shit! They were supposed to be having dinner, weren’t they? He’d forgotten all about it. He pictured her patiently waiting for him at the restaurant he’d booked, then giving up, mad as hell. He didn’t dare check his voicemail.

He threw himself down into the nearest chair and drained his glass in one long mouthful. Now he definitely couldn’t drive to the restaurant to put in a late and apologetic appearance. In all probability he’d just thrown away any chance of seeing Laura again.

He leant back into the chair. In his mind’s eye, he saw his father shuddering and bawling like a child. Repulsed by the sight of him, he’d been unable to do anything but walk away. He just couldn’t stand to see his own father reduced to such a pitiful state. That wasn’t the father he’d known.

But then nothing about Dad now bore any resemblance to the father he’d known. That man on the kitchen floor was a stranger to Rosco. He would never be able to respect or admire him in the way he once had.

Always he would think of that pathetic creature begging him to keep quiet about his affair with Simone Montrose.

Always he would think of him sneaking around behind their backs, keeping secrets. Not just his sordid affair, but the relationship that he was encouraging between Katie and Lloyd. Encouraging it because then, if they were serious about each other, the family would never be rid of the girl.

On the coffee table in front of him, his mobile pinged. This time it was a text. He picked it up and read the message. It was from Laura:
Have gone home. Hope all is OK with you. Speak soon. Goodnight. X

He read it again, searching it for any sign of thinly disguised subtext, such as
Sod off! Don’t ever think of getting in touch with me again!
He found none. To all intents and purposes, she didn’t sound angry with him. Perhaps he hadn’t blown it with her after all. He’d give himself a few more minutes to fully calm down and then he would ring her back and apologize. He would explain that he’d had a family crisis to deal with and that he would make it up to her.

‘We should get up.’

‘Really? Says who?’

‘Says I, the one and only Katie Lavender!’

Lloyd laughed. ‘Sorry, you’re overruled by a massive majority. As I told you before, I’m bigger than you, so therefore my say out-says your say.’

‘Say there, you’re making the rules up as you go along.’

‘Is there any other way?’

‘Hmm . . . remind me not to play Monopoly with you.’

‘I can think of plenty of other games we could play instead.’

She pushed his hands away, laughing. ‘Oh no you don’t.’

‘But you know you like it.’

‘I’ve been pretending. I’m a world-class faker.’

‘In that case, I need to up my game. I’d hate for you to miss out on one of life’s greatest pleasures.’ He kissed her and rolled her on to her back.

‘Well,’ she said later, when she lay exhausted and content with her head resting on Lloyd’s chest while he traced languid circles on her back with his hand, ‘ten out of ten for effort; you did indeed up your game.’

‘But you still faked it, right?’

She sighed. ‘I’m afraid so. I really can’t see what all the fuss is about with this sex lark.’

‘I know what you mean; I’m beginning to go off it too. If we’re going to continue seeing each other, we’ll have to find something else to amuse ourselves with.’

‘Just not Monopoly.’

‘How about Scrabble?’

‘How about we scrabble out of bed?’

‘Hey, what’s the hurry? It’s Saturday.’

‘Oh, you know, things to do, people to see.’

‘I thought you’d come to see me.’

She wriggled out of his arms and pushed back the duvet. ‘I’ve seen lots of you, Lloyd. Lots and
lots
of you.’ She widened her eyes and smiled suggestively.

‘I feel so used,’ he said, in a mock-trembling voice.

She laughed. ‘You better get used to it. OK if I have a shower?’

‘Be my guest, but only if I can share it with you.’

Showered and dressed and watching Lloyd cook breakfast – a man-sized fry-up of bacon and eggs, tomatoes and sausages – Katie set the table that was against the wall in his small kitchen. Above the table were four pine shelves that were home to a couple of cookery books – Jamie Oliver and Nigel Slater – but were mostly packed with paperbacks and CDs. Happily his musical taste coincided with hers. Right now they were listening to Arcade Fire’s
Funeral
. When he’d stayed with her last weekend, and in view of previous occasions when she’d pretended to like something for the sake of the relationship, she’d told him outright that she didn’t like U2 and if that was a deal-breaker, so be it. There would be no pretending with Lloyd, she’d promised herself. Smiling, he’d said that since he wasn’t a fan either, it wouldn’t be a problem. Just so long as she didn’t expect him to listen to Mariah Carey or Justin Bieber. ‘You’re safe on both counts,’ she’d told him.

The table set, she poured out two mugs of tea and passed one to Lloyd. ‘You don’t mind me going to see Stirling, do you?’ she asked.

‘Of course I don’t. I was only teasing you upstairs. It would be wrong for you not to see him. Whilst you’re out, I thought I’d go to the workshop and check on a delivery of timber that came in yesterday. I’m not convinced the order is correct.’

She sat down at the table and watched him cook, a tea towel draped over his shoulder. Unshaven, and dressed in old jeans and a white T-shirt, he looked as sexy and divine as he always did. She had never seen him wear anything other than jeans and a shirt, and she wondered if he even possessed a suit.

Sipping her tea, her thoughts turned to Stirling, and how surprised she’d been yesterday when, and while Lloyd was at work, he hadn’t replied to any of her attempts to contact him. Deciding he was simply too busy, she had tried not to dwell on it or admit to herself how disappointed she was. It was her own fault, she further concluded; she should have got in touch with him sooner to let him know she was coming, but somehow in all the excitement of seeing Lloyd again, she had forgotten. However, late in the afternoon, while she was visiting Cecily, the old lady had asked when she was planning to see Stirling, and her response to Katie’s reply that she didn’t know was to say, ‘We can’t have that. Why don’t we give him a little tinkle now and see what he’s up to?’ This time Stirling had answered his mobile almost immediately.

Twenty seconds into Cecily’s robust interrogation of him, it became evident that he wasn’t at work but was at home not feeling well. Cecily had then handed the phone over to Katie, and straight away she could hear he didn’t sound right. He was muted and distant, as if all the energy had been sucked out of him. Thinking that perhaps he wasn’t alone, that maybe his wife was with him, she had told him not to worry about meeting. ‘There’ll be plenty of other opportunities,’ she’d said, ‘I’m sorry for bothering you.’

‘No,’ he’d replied hurriedly, ‘it’s better that we do, there’s something I want to discuss with you.’ He’d suggested they meet in the car park at the Riverside this afternoon, and that they go for a walk along the river and then afterwards have a bite to eat or a drink, whatever suited them best.

Now, as the time drew nearer, Katie felt anxious about seeing him. What was it that he wanted to discuss with her? She hoped it wasn’t anything to do with the trust fund. Her mind was made up, so he needn’t waste his breath. She had told Lloyd about the fund and he, to his credit, had agreed that if he was in her shoes, he would feel awkward about accepting the money.

‘You’re looking very serious all of a sudden,’ Lloyd said as, with a pair of oven gloves, he put her breakfast plate in front of her. ‘Don’t touch, it’s hot.’

She immediately did what he’d told her not to. ‘Ouch,’ she said.

‘I did warn you.’ He tossed the oven gloves over to the work surface and sat opposite her. ‘So why the solemn face?’

‘I was thinking of Stirling. I have this niggling feeling about him.’

‘You said yourself that he’s not well at the moment.’

‘I know, but it’s more than that. I can’t put my finger on it, but there was something in his voice on the phone yesterday. Something jarred. But what do I know? I hardly know the man.’

Lloyd looked at her thoughtfully. ‘I wasn’t going to say anything, but I know for a fact that Cecily’s concerned about him. Perhaps you could draw it out of him. He might talk to you in a way that he doesn’t feel able to do with the rest of us.’

‘Why, because I’m an outsider?’

‘No,’ he said firmly, ‘because you’re his daughter. And where the hell did that come from, you being an outsider? You’re new to the family, like Louisa-May; you’re not an outsider.’

‘But unlike Louisa-May, I’ll never be accepted by everyone, will I?’

He continued to frown at her. ‘The people who matter have accepted you. Isn’t that enough?’

Annoyed with herself for having single-handedly destroyed her good mood so thoroughly, she said, ‘It’s not nice knowing there are people who wish I didn’t exist.’

‘Three people you’re talking about: Gina, Rosco and Scarlet. Forget about them. Otherwise you’ll drive yourself crazy. Now eat your breakfast.’

‘Yes, boss.’

He smiled. ‘That’ll be the day.’

One look at Stirling as he got out of his Aston Martin and Katie could see he wasn’t at all well. He looked agitated and nervy, almost feverish. His hair, usually stylishly pushed back from his forehead, was messy and sticking up in places, as if he had been continuously pushing a hand through it. His sickly pallor emphasized how red-rimmed and bloodshot his eyes were. He looked like he should have been at home resting in bed.

‘Should you be out?’ she asked.

‘I’m fine,’ he said.

She didn’t believe him. ‘Would you rather we just had a drink and forgot about the walk?’

He shook his head. ‘No, a walk might help.’

Help what? she wondered.

He seemed reticent to talk as they walked along the towpath, and Katie found herself gabbing for England, asking about Scarlet and the baby, and how he felt about being a grandfather. His responses were clipped and lacking any real enthusiasm, as if she was tiring him. Or worse, boring him. ‘What’s wrong?’ she finally asked.

‘There’s . . . there’s something I have to tell you,’ he said.

They both stopped walking at the same time. Both looked at the other. Both quickly looked away. It was as if they were mirroring each other. And from the troubled look on Stirling’s face, it was obvious he had something awful to say. Better to let him get it off his chest, Katie thought. ‘Go on,’ she said.

A cyclist came into view ahead of them with a small panting dog running alongside, and after they’d stepped back to let them pass, Stirling started walking again, his pace faster now. Katie fell in step. They passed a pair of swans on the water, and he said, ‘The thing is, Katie, everything’s got out of hand. I’ve made a spectacular mess of things. I’ve done something so stupid I can hardly believe I did it. But I did. And please don’t ask me what it is, I’m too ashamed.’ He took a breath. Then continued. ‘The only way I can make amends and to keep everything from falling apart is to do something I don’t want to do. But I can’t see any other way round it. If I do what I want to do, I’ll destroy my family. And you must believe me, I’ve hurt Gina enough as it is.’ He took another breath. And another.

Katie looked at him closely. There was an expression of real anguish in his face. He seemed to have aged since she’d last seen him.

‘I don’t want to hurt you,’ he said quietly. ‘Truly I don’t. I don’t want to hurt anyone. But I can’t see a way out of the mess without hurting someone.’

Suddenly Katie knew what the problem was. Or rather
who
the problem was. It was her. She was what was making Stirling so ill. Before she’d come to Sandiford, his life had been happy and trouble-free. OK, she had nothing to do with his brother killing himself and the ensuing difficulties the family was facing, but she was the main cause of distress for him now. She had known that his wife had wanted him to make a choice – Katie or her – but naively she hadn’t thought the woman would force him to choose. She realized now that she had seriously underestimated Gina and what she was going through. She had dismissed the poor woman’s reaction as nothing more than a hissy fit, something she could easily get over.

But if Katie was in Gina’s place, would she really be able to behave any differently? The answer was no. Which made everything crystal clear. She knew exactly what had to be done. She had started this; she had to be the one to end it.

She slowed her step, put a hand on Stirling’s arm and stopped him. ‘Stirling,’ she said, ‘are you talking about me?

His gaze rested on hers and he nodded. ‘I know it’s unfair, but I . . .’ His voice broke, and he faltered. He turned his head to look at the river. But not before Katie saw his eyes mist over.