The Sun in Her Eyes (22 page)

I raise one eyebrow at him.

‘Amber!’ Tony suddenly exclaims.

I smile at Ethan’s dad as he comes towards me, even though in my peripheral vision I’m acutely aware of his son’s every movement. ‘Hello! I was in the hills. Thought
I’d pop by to say hi.’

‘Of course, of course! It’s lovely to see you.’ Tony bends down to peck me on my cheek while Ethan hastily wipes himself down with a towel. I notice his arms have been dyed
purple up to his elbows.

‘Do you mind if I take a quick break?’ he asks his dad, appearing at my side.

‘Course,’ Tony replies. ‘See you in a bit.’

I dare to meet Ethan’s eyes as we cross the dirt path to the next building, blushing at the intensity I see there. He does a 360 to check we’re not being watched before ushering me
inside. A few moments later, I’m breathing heavily in a room surrounded by oak barrels and he’s advancing on me. He’s splattered from head to foot with grape juice. I want to lick
it off him, so I do, but his tongue claims mine within seconds. He tastes fruity. God, I want him so much. I reach down to unbuckle his belt as our kisses deepen, but to my surprise, he stops
me.

‘We can’t. Not here.’

‘Why?’ I ask urgently against his mouth, my fingers resting on the hot skin of his firm stomach.

‘Someone could come in.’

The risk would be worth it.

‘And I don’t have any protection on me,’ he adds.

Oh. That risk
isn’t
worth taking. I’m not going to push my luck again. I break away from him.

‘We can go to my bedroom,’ he suggests, grabbing me around my waist and nibbling my neck.

‘What about your mum?’

‘We’ll sneak in the back,’ he replies with a grin, his eyes twinkling.

Christ, he’s gorgeous. ‘Okay.’

We reach the confines of his childhood bedroom unseen, and his actions become harried as he rummages through his drawers in search of a condom. We both sigh with relief when he comes up trumps
and the next thing I know I’m on my back on his bed and he’s hoicking my dress up to my waist and I’m dragging his grape-spattered T-shirt over his head.

He freezes suddenly, his ears pricked towards the door. Was that his mum walking down the corridor? Does he have a lock? To my alarm, I see that he doesn’t. A moment later he laughs under
his breath. ‘I feel like a teenager again.’

How many girls has he sneaked into this bed? I’m piqued with a mixture of jealousy and curiosity as I ask the question.

‘Four or five,’ he replies with a shrug, trailing kisses down my body and pulling my knickers off.

Four or five?
When he was
a teenage boy
? Presumably this was
before
he met Sadie at the age of seventeen…

He looks up at me suddenly. ‘You’re not jealous, are you?’ he asks with a grin as he undoes his jeans.

I shake my head quickly, but I’m certain he can see straight through me. ‘How many blokes have you had in your bed, then?’ he asks, hovering back over me and nudging my legs
apart with his knees.

‘I’m not going to answer that,’ I reply primly.

Two
, before I left home at the age of eighteen. And that was mainly to distract my heart from Ethan and piss off Liz, even if she only caught me once.

‘I wish I’d known how you felt back then,’ he says, lowering his mouth to my breast.

I gasp and arch my back. ‘Would it have made a difference?’ I ask him.

‘Probably,’ he replies, maintaining eye contact as he sinks into me.

‘Oh God,’ I say on a rush of breath.

I love him so much. I want to be with him. Not just now, but always.

I open my mouth to speak. ‘I love—’

But the last of my three-word declaration is engulfed by his kiss.

I don’t say it again.

On the drive home, I become aware of my mobile phone buzzing inside my bag. I let it ring out, then risk a glance at it after a few minutes to discover I’ve missed four
calls from home. I pull over as soon as I can and dial the home number. Liz answers.

‘Where are you?’ she barks.

‘Is Dad okay?’ I ask in a panic. ‘I’m on my way home.’

‘About time. And no, he’s not okay. He fell over and banged his head.’ She pauses just long enough to make me feel sick with worry, before putting me straight.
‘He’s a bit shaken.’

‘I’m
fine
,’ I hear Dad insist from somewhere in the background.

‘Bloody hell!’ I exclaim. ‘You scared the life out of me!’

‘I was supposed to go to my meeting tonight,’ she says crossly.

‘Oh.’ I had completely forgotten that her carer support group was on Thursdays.

‘These meetings are important to me, Amber! I know you’ve never given two hoots about my feelings, but I’m only asking for one evening to do something for myself!’

‘Please,’ I hear Dad begging. ‘Don’t shout at her.’

Shame makes my face prickle uncomfortably.

‘We’ll talk about this when you get home,’ Liz says, hanging up on me.

I stare, stunned, at the phone, and then I throw it onto the passenger seat and drive the rest of the way home in a far less pleasant mood than the one I started out in.

Dad is watching television alone in the living room when I arrive.

‘Hey,’ I say softly. ‘Are you okay?’

‘I’m fine,’ he replies gruffly as I join him on the sofa. ‘Such a fuss.’

‘Were you hurt?’ I ask, touching my hands to his still slightly droopy face to check him for bumps. ‘Oh Dad, I’m so sorry,’ I say when he winces as my fingers run
over rather a large one on the side of his forehead.

‘Bit sore, but I’m fine,’ he insists.

‘What happened?’ I ask.

‘Silly. Wanted to tie shoelaces.’

I look down at his feet, but he’s wearing his usual slip-ons.

‘It will come,’ I say gently. ‘Give it time.’

‘Sick of time.’

His voice is more slurred than usual. The effort of articulating every single word is immense. He tries harder with strangers and the few friends and colleagues who have visited recently, but by
the evening, when it’s just us, he’s too tired to put much energy into being understood.

‘Would you like me to help you get ready for bed?’ I ask. I’m assuming Liz has gone out.

He shakes his head. ‘I’ll wait for Liz.’

‘Where is she?’ I ask.

‘Outside.’

I frown at him. She’s in the garden? ‘I’ll go and see her.’

‘Don’t argue,’ he begs, gripping my arm with his good left hand.

‘Okay, Dad,’ I reply tenderly, as my conscience pricks.

I smell the smoke of her cigarette as soon as I open the kitchen door, and I can’t help myself.

‘For pity’s sake!’ I exclaim incredulously.

‘Leave it, Amber,’ she warns flatly, inhaling deeply and flicking her ash onto the dahlias.

‘Liz, this is ridiculous—’

‘I said leave it!’ Her eyes flare at me.

‘Shh!’ I shoot a glance at the house. ‘He doesn’t want us to argue.’

‘No, he’s had enough of that to last a lifetime,’ she comments bitterly. When she next draws breath, I notice her hands are shaking. ‘It’s all too much,’ she
mutters, her voice wavering as she runs her free hand through her short grey hair.

‘What do you mean?’ I ask worriedly.

‘I can’t quit smoking on top of everything else,’ she says irritably, before glancing at me and raising one eyebrow. ‘You thought I meant the stroke, didn’t you?
That what’s happened to Len is all too much?’

I shift on my feet. ‘Well, I—’

‘Sorry to disappoint you, but I’m not going anywhere,’ she states with nonchalance.

It’s relief, not disappointment, that I feel.

‘I don’t want you to leave him,’ I say. ‘Not anymore.’

She lets out a sharp little laugh.

‘It’s not just because I’d be scared about dealing with this on my own,’ I say, ‘although, obviously, that’s part of it,’ I add honestly, when I see her
wry expression. ‘But you’re better for each other than I’ve ever wanted to admit.’

She gives me a good long look with her steely blue eyes and then throws her cigarette butt to the floor, stamping on it. ‘It’s only taken you seventeen years to realise,’ she
says. ‘But it’s about bloody time that you did.’

I sigh and stare back at her with resignation.

‘Have you been to Ethan’s?’ Her question startles me.

‘I, er, yes. I dropped in to see him.’ I give her a puzzled look. How did she know?

‘You have grape smears on your dress,’ she explains.

I glance down with mild horror to see that I do indeed have little segments of squashed red grapes all over my yellow dress. ‘Jeez, what a mess,’ I mutter, trying to sound casual.
‘Winemaking season,’ I tell her with a shrug.

She gives me a calculating look. ‘I see.’

‘Are you finished out here?’ I turn to go back inside.

‘No, I think I’ll have another one,’ she replies stubbornly, sliding a fag out of her packet.

I huff with frustration. ‘Did you ever quit?’ I demand to know.

‘Sort of.’

‘Did Dad?’

‘Yes.’ She nods and lights up, her face temporarily obscured by smoke.

‘If you keep smoking around him, he’ll probably start up again. You know that smoking doubles—’

‘The risk of stroke, yes.’ She finishes my sentence. ‘Oh Amber. You act like I’m the big bad wolf leading him astray. He’s all grown-up now, you know.’

‘No need to be patronising about it,’ I say in a sulk.

‘It’s true. He’s capable of making his own decisions.’ She narrows her eyes at me. ‘Why
do
you hate it so much?’

I regard her with astonishment. ‘Surely you remember that Nell’s grandad died of lung cancer.’

She screws up her nose. ‘That’s not the only reason though, surely?’

‘Isn’t it a good enough one?’ I’m getting on my high horse now.

‘No. You’re fanatical about it. There’s got to be another reason why.’

‘Alright, then.’ I ready myself for a rant. ‘You want to know why? It’s simple. I don’t see why anyone in their right mind would be so selfish as to risk cutting
their life short, especially when they’d be leaving behind people who care about them.’

She pauses. ‘Is this about your mum?’ she asks.

I flinch.

‘I get it.’ She nods. ‘You’ve always thought I was trying to take your dad away from you. You think I made him start smoking. I didn’t, by the way,’ she
clarifies as an afterthought. ‘He already smoked. I can see why you’d want to blame me for what you considered would otherwise have been an entirely selfish act, but the truth is,
Amber, there’s nothing deep about this. We used to enjoy a social smoke together. So what? Don’t read more into it than that. It wasn’t about you. It has never been about
you.’

Both of us fall silent. Eventually she throws her butt to the ground and grinds it into the flowerbed with her foot.

‘I still think it’s a filthy habit,’ I mutter.

‘And you’re right,’ she says, glancing up at me. ‘I do want to quit, you know. And I will. For now, I’ll just have to keep it outside. Goodness knows, we all need
something to take our minds off things at the moment.’

She gives me another look, one that makes me think she can see straight through me. It’s distinctly unsettling.

I almost expect her to ask me outright if I’m sleeping with Ethan, but thankfully she doesn’t. I have a horrid feeling I’d find myself confessing to her if she did.

We walk back into the house together.

‘Who are you?’

I bend down and stare into the suspicious green eyes of the person who has asked me this question.

‘I’ve already told you my name. It’s Amber,’ I reply brightly.

‘Are you Dad’s girlfriend?’

I laugh in a bright and breezy fashion. ‘No, no, no, we’re just friends.’

‘I remember you,’ the older one, Penelope, says. ‘We came to your wedding.’

‘That’s right, you did!’ I exclaim, looking around for Ethan. Why the hell is he taking so long with those blasted ice creams?

‘Don’t you have a husband anymore? Is that why you’re with Dad?’

Argh! ‘No!’ I cry. ‘We’re just friends!’

I don’t know how this happened. I don’t know how my illicit affair has resulted in me spending the day with my lover and his children. Yet here we are.

It’s Sunday – Ethan’s one and only day off during the winemaking season – and because it’s the only time he gets to spend a full day with his girls, I was invited
to join them.

Accepting the invitation may well have been a mistake.

‘Here we go,’ Ethan calls, and I sigh with relief at the sight of him wandering across the playground towards us. It’s a fairly mild day, but I think he’s being
optimistic wearing shorts and a T-shirt. Not that I mind being exposed to more of his divine body.

Rachel, his younger daughter at five years old, rushes to intercept him.

‘Hang on a minute,’ he scolds as she jumps up and down, trying to snatch the cone from his hands. ‘If it falls on the ground,’ he warns, ‘you’re not having
anoth— Oh, for fffff—
God’s sake
!’ he erupts as one of the ice creams splats onto the pavement. Rachel bursts into tears.

‘You’re not having another one,’ Penelope tells her indignantly. ‘Dad said.’

‘Penny!’ Ethan snaps, as Rachel’s wails step up a notch. Oh, my ears…

‘She can have mine,’ I say quickly. ‘I don’t need it. Here.’ I gingerly extricate it from Ethan’s hands and Rachel stops crying abruptly.

‘Thank you,’ Ethan breathes, looking drained. ‘You can have mine.’

‘Honestly, it’s fine,’ I insist.

He nods at a park bench so we go to sit down, while Penny and Rachel kick at the wood chips underneath the climbing frame, covering their shiny patent shoes and white socks with brown dust.

‘Rachel asked me if I was your girlfriend,’ I whisper.

‘Christ, did she?’ He flashes me a worried glance. ‘Sorry.’

‘It’s okay. Penelope remembered coming to my wedding. Wanted to know if I still had a husband.’

‘Jesus,’ he mutters. ‘Can you hold this?’ He jumps to his feet and I stare down at his rapidly melting ice cream. ‘Girls, can you stop doing that? Your mum is going
to go mental at me if you ruin another pair of shoes.’ His brow is furrowed as he searches the nearby vicinity for the plastic bag Sadie gave him containing baby wipes. Finding it, he sets
off with determination towards his daughters.