With All My Love (25 page)

The waiter arrived with her crispy whitebait, and placed it on the table in front of her. ‘More wine, Señora?’ he asked.

‘Why not?’ she said.

‘Et iss holiday.’ He smiled, giving a good-humoured shrug and went to get the wine. Some holiday, she thought wryly, spearing a piece of the fish and popping it in her mouth. It was melt-in-the-mouth tender, and the accompanying salad was crisp and tasty. To her surprise she was enjoying the excellent food, but that was typical of her, she thought irritably. She never lost her appetite because of trauma or anxiety and stress. Quite the opposite, in fact; food was her comfort and companion in times of trouble. And this was surely a time of trouble. Briony sighed. She was damned if she was going to put back on the stone she’d lost through rigorous dieting before her trip to Spain. Valerie had a lot to bloody answer for, she thought viciously as she pronged another olive, buttered her crusty bread roll and took a large bite out of it. She was tempted to order a portion of chips. She could feel a full-on binge heading her way so she took another slug of wine, finished her bread and told herself that she was full.

A quartet of women at the table in front of her, who were coming to the end of their meal, laughed heartily at something one of their party said and she envied them their merriment as they clinked glasses of champagne. Obviously on a girls’ jaunt, she observed as she studied them covertly. Friends who were very comfortable with each other if the jolly slagging that was going on was anything to go by. Her waiter and a tall, elegant waitress stopped to chat and enjoy the fun, and moments later four big glasses of Baileys arrived at the table, compliments of the proprietor. Hoots of laughter rippled through the night, and Briony took another gulp of wine, wishing it would ease the knots of tension that throbbed in her temples. She finished the last of her whitebait and pushed her plate away.

‘Would Señora like anything else? More wine? coffee?’ the waiter, attentive and professional, asked moments later.

‘No . . . thank you, it was delicious. Could you order me a taxi and could you give me
la cuenta, por favor
?’ She lapsed into her schoolgirl Spanish.

‘
Sí, Señora, momento
’ He disappeared inside the glass-walled restaurant and she saw him make the phone call to the taxi rank in El Zoco. She didn’t fancy walking back across the beach in the dark, especially after drinking two glasses of wine, plus the cumulative effects of her stressful day had made her feel quite weary. The taxi arrived a few minutes later and she paid her bill and sank back into the leather seat as she gave Valerie’s address. She hoped her mother was in bed. She was in no mood to talk. She rummaged in her bag, hoping against hope that she had her key, otherwise she was going to have to ring the bell and an encounter with her mother would be unavoidable.

She was in luck. She found the spare key her mother had given her. She could let herself in, check on Katie and fall into bed.

The light was on in Valerie’s bedroom, she noticed when the taxi pulled up outside the villa less than ten minutes later. She paid her fare and opened the front door as quietly as she could. She was glad there was a side lamp on in the sitting room to guide her way. Katie was fast asleep, her silky blond hair fanned out over the pillow, her arm around Teddy Ted, her favourite cuddly toy. Briony had to fight the impulse to lift her daughter up and smother her in kisses.

She was sure Tessa had often watched
her
sleeping, all those years ago. What pain and grief to lose a grandchild on top of losing a beloved son. What had possessed her mother? How could Valerie have been so callous, Briony wondered as she lay in her bed a while later, wide awake. Well, she was going to get a taste of her own medicine because Briony was taking Katie home and neither she nor her daughter would ever return to Spain. The bond she and Valerie had shared was irrevocably damaged. Broken. Shattered beyond repair. She couldn’t wait to get the hell out of here, she fumed as she twisted and turned in her mother’s luxurious Egyptian cotton sheets, desperate to fall asleep and blot out the nightmare her life had turned into, for a few hours at least.

Valerie looked at the shadowy silhouettes that weaved through the slats of her shutters. The origami shapes undulating on her bedroom walls usually delighted her, but not tonight. It was 3 a.m. The luminous green figures on her small alarm clock taunted her as the minutes ticked slowly past.

Hours ago she had heard the taxi draw up outside the villa, and she’d waited, fingers curled tightly into her palms, expecting the doorbell to ring. And then she’d heard her daughter’s key in the front door and exhaled a long deep sigh, not sure if she was relieved or not that she didn’t have to go out and face her. She heard Briony go into Katie’s room and wondered would her daughter knock on her door and come in and talk to her now that she’d had time to cool down and reflect on their situation. Part of her hoped desperately that she would. But then she’d heard movement in the sitting room as Briony turned out the lamp, and then the closing of a door and the muffled sounds of her daughter preparing for bed.

Sudden unexpected tears of disappointment brimmed in her eyes and she had to bury her face in her pillow to muffle the sobs that followed as her heart constricted in pain. How could it all have come to this, she thought in despair as she switched off her own light. Had it not occurred to Briony that something must have caused Valerie to take the actions she did? She had been
driven
to it, Valerie thought mournfully. Tessa Egan had brought their estrangement on herself with her horrible mean-spirited words and accusations. Briony thought Tessa was the wronged one, but what about
her
? Valerie had suffered enormously at the hands of Jeff’s mother. Would this night never end, she fretted, wishing sleep would give her some solace. One day Briony would know of the anguish she had endured and learn of her grandmother’s behaviour because that letter had opened a Pandora’s box and there was no going back. Valerie turned onto her side and burrowed her head under a pillow as unwelcome memories came back to torment her, while the breeze began to increase in strength again and the shadows danced like marionettes across her bed.

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY
-F
IVE

Valerie clattered along the parquet floors of Bolton Street Tech and pushed open the heavy swing doors of the library. She walked past the queue at the librarian’s desk and turned right into the study area, giving a quick scan of students engrossed in their studies. Her heart lifted when she saw Jeff with his head bent, stuck in his books and occasionally writing furiously. The library was hot and stuffy; she didn’t envy any of the students swotting for their exams. She wasn’t sure if she would have enjoyed going to college, she reflected. She enjoyed being a career girl and her regular pay cheque. She certainly didn’t lose as much sleep over it as her father did, she thought wryly.

She made her way down between the desks, trying not to bump into anyone’s table. The rows between the desks were narrow, and her mammoth bulk made her awkward and clumsy. She hit one table and almost knocked down a pile of books. ‘Sorry . . .’ She gave a murmured apology, feeling like an idiot.

‘Hi, babe,’ she whispered when she reached Jeff. ‘Are you ready to go?’

‘Oh! Hi, Val! How did it go at the hospital?’ he whispered back, and began to gather his books together. A skinny, cropped-haired, bespectacled girl sitting at the desk beside him glared at them, her mouth pursed in irritation. For one moment Valerie thought she was going to tell them to shush.

‘I’ll tell you when we get out,’ she murmured, conscious of Skinny Minnie’s basilisk stare.

‘Who’s that little wagon sitting beside you, who was glaring at us?’ Valerie said crossly when Jeff had returned his reference books and they were walking along the corridor towards the lift. An unseasonably warm sun shone through the massive plate windows that lined the corridor and she felt hot and uncomfortable in her heavy winter coat, which was stretched to bursting over her bump. Skinny Minnie was lucky she hadn’t got the two fingers because her hormones were all over the place. She was on a razor’s edge, Valerie thought irritably.

‘Spider Legs? Don’t take any notice of her; she’s a real little swot with an attitude problem,’ Jeff derided, yawning.

‘What did you call her?’ She wasn’t sure she’d heard right.

‘Spider Legs – that’s what one of the lads nicknamed her.’

Valerie giggled. ‘You lot are
so
pass remarkable, worse than women,’ she said, highly amused at the accuracy of the description. Minnie
had
looked like a spider with the dark hair and the gangly limbs.

‘Good, though, isn’t it? It was a Dub, of course, who came out with that. The wit of the Dubs is legendary,’ Jeff grinned. ‘She should never wear jeans, that’s for sure, or minis. Not a good look. Lift or stairs?’ He cocked his head sideways and patted her bump.

‘I’ll risk the lift! I wouldn’t mind having spider legs right now,’ Valerie sighed, tucking her arm into his as he pressed the lift pad. ‘I feel like the Michelin Man.’

‘Won’t be for long now, though. What did they say at the hospital? I would have gone with you, you know that.’ He put his arm around her shoulder as they stepped into the ancient lift and it creaked and juddered slowly down to the ground floor.

‘I know, and thanks.’ She snuggled into him. ‘But there was no point in you hanging around over there when you could be finishing off your thesis. If I don’t go into labour by Thursday they’re taking me in to induce me. Don’t think I fancy that. It’s supposed to make it more painful, I heard.’ She made a face.

‘Don’t be listening to those ones in the clinic and their sob stories,’ her boyfriend warned as they walked out of the side exit of the college. ‘Conway’s for a chicken and mushroom vol-au-vent or the Bolton Horse for soup and a sandwich? You pick and I’ll pay,’ he offered magnanimously.

Valerie glanced over at the pub across the road and decided she wasn’t in the humour for a crowded bar full of noisy, boisterous students. ‘The vol-au-vent,’ she said, turning right into the welcome shade of King’s Inn Street.

‘You’ll turn into a vol-au-vent,’ Jeff teased, falling into step beside her.

‘I know. I’d never tasted them until I had them in Conway’s. I love them,’ she confessed. ‘You’d never get a vol-au-vent, eating out anywhere in Rockland’s. Roast chicken breast as dry as snuff is the best you could do,’ she observed as they crossed Loftus Lane.

‘Yeah, they’re tasty all right,’ Jeff agreed. ‘And I love their stew. It’s like what you’d get at home. Where did you park?’

‘In the car park. Look, it’s there in the middle.’ She pointed to a cluster of cars in the centre of the parking lot they were now walking parallel to. ‘I wasn’t sure how long I’d be in the hospital and I didn’t want to be running in and out feeding the meter. It’s so handy for us around here, isn’t it? Half-way between the college and the hospital, and our favourite pub down the road?’

‘Yup. That’s how I planned it,’ Jeff laughed.

Valerie had been able to park behind the college and waddle over to her hospital appointment in the Rotunda, before meeting up with Jeff. It seemed like ages since she’d had her breakfast. She was hungry and looking forward to their lunch together. Now that she was a lady of leisure on the second day of her maternity leave, she was enjoying the singular freedom of being off work on a weekday, knowing that she wouldn’t be back at her desk for the next few months.

They were lucky to get into the popular hostelry before the lunchtime rush and Valerie opted for a table near the door. Even though she loved the smell of smoke that wafted around the pub, and longed to smoke a Dunhill, she had stayed off the cigarettes, with difficulty, for the duration of her pregnancy. Their order was taken speedily and they sat back and relaxed, waiting for their drinks to be served.

When the young waitress placed the plate of steaming food in front of Valerie, her mouth watered and she tucked into the light flaky pastry and creamy sauce with gusto, but after eating half of it she began to feel quite full.

‘What’s wrong?’ A look of panic flashed across Jeff’s face as he saw her stop eating.

‘Stop panicking.’ She laughed. ‘There’s no room in there.’ She patted her bump.

‘I’ll eat it so; pass it over here,’ Jeff instructed, scoffing down the last of his own meal and mopping up the sauce with a forkful of chips.

‘Gannet,’ she retorted affectionately, pushing her plate over the table to him. She felt almost happy as she watched him polish off the remains of her lunch. After their more than rocky start to her pregnancy, their bond was far deeper now, nine months later. They were a team with a common goal. She was supporting him in his studies, and had typed up the main part of his thesis, being extra careful to spell all the unfamiliar technical terms correctly. He was just completing his bibliography and the index and acknowledgements, and then it was finished. She felt as much a part of it as he did. She had even suggested the colours for the binding. Green with gold lettering would be more elegant than his original choice of red and black, she proposed, and he agreed.

He needed to get a haircut, she thought, feeling quite wife-like as she noted how his dark hair flopped into his eyes, and curled down over the collar of his shirt. She hoped against hope that he would get a decent result in his exams and then find a well paid job so they could be married. As her pregnancy had progressed she had felt less insecure about her future with Jeff. He had shown he was committed to her and their baby. All he needed to do now to make her feel secure and happy was to propose.

He had come to several of her clinic appointments, even though he hated hospitals and went a strange greenish hue when he stepped over the threshold of the building. He had assured her that he would be by her side when the baby was being born, now that the father was allowed in at the birth. Valerie was torn about this and had discussed it many times with Lizzie.