The Secret Art of Forgiveness Page 12

  ‘Oh, you have got to come now. I want to hear all about your man. Let’s have a proper catch-up.’

  ‘I can’t leave The Judge any longer. Really.’ She couldn’t just leave him because she’d had another offer. No wonder Tamara was so stressed if she couldn’t go about her normal life without considering what she had to do to protect him at every given opportunity. ‘No. I’d love to, but I really can’t.’

  ‘Call Tom and see how they’re getting on. Do it.’

  Emily hesitated. ‘I feel terrible asking him. I can’t phone him.’

  ‘Well, I can.’ Sally was tapping on her phone. ‘Tom’s a sweetie. He won’t mind. Honestly.’

  Chapter Seven

  The pub wasn’t too crowded, so they easily found a table in a quiet corner. Almost as soon as she’d agreed to come, Emily had had second thoughts; she’d made amends with Sally, yes, but there was a long way to go before they could consider themselves mended friends. The last thing she wanted was a long evening with even longer gaps in stilted conversation.

  She needn’t have worried, though. The two Little Duxbury women were like all her regular New York friends with the same worries and interests. Greta arrived back from the bar with a second round of drinks and sat down on the banquette with a bump. ‘It’s so nice to get out of the house, but I don’t think I should have much more to drink than this. Getting up with the kids is going to be hard with a sore head.’

  Sally smiled. ‘Oh, poor you. I forgot it was a school night.’

  ‘Honey, with kids, every night is a school night. Plus, no more lie-ins, like, ever. In fact, I can’t remember when I had a full night’s sleep. Mind you, sometimes I can’t even remember my kids’ names.’

  ‘It sounds a bit like having someone with dementia shuffling about the place,’ Em joined in. ‘I’m always alert to the slightest noise. Who needs an alarm clock, right?’

  ‘I wouldn’t be without them, though. They’re hard work, but with just one look, or a smile, they get you, right here.’ Greta tapped her heart, and laughed. ‘Or that could just be indigestion. Actually, we try to take it in turns to get up to them in the night. Sean’s so great, he never misses his turn, not like some dads who have selective deafness. Two Saturdays ago he suggested I have a me day. I got to half past nine in the morning and I didn’t know what to do with myself. I ended up going to find them at Aldi’s. I’ve forgotten the art of being selfish. Who’d have thought?’

  ‘It sounds like you’re a great unit. A great mum, too.’ There was a pang, low in Emily’s tummy. A quiver of envy at Greta’s settled life; the kids, being surrounded by people she’d known all her life. A support network of love, a beautiful place to live. An unswerving, unshakeable knowledge that there were people she could rely on, whatever befell her or her family.

  And Emily was carving that out for herself with Brett. It would be the same, the same but different. It was everything she’d worked towards – everything fitted into her blueprint. The guy, the job, surrounding herself with people who supported her – in her work, anyway. She had no doubt they’d be just as supportive if babies came along. She’d created the hub she’d missed out on from the age of eight.

  The panic started to fizz along with the low murmur of that feral, instinctive tug in her tummy. Everything had worked out exactly as she’d wanted. But she hadn’t planned to feel like this. Panicked.

  God, she needed another drink.

  ‘I am so glad I live on my own and I can please myself and lie in whenever I want, and have me days every day.’ Sally shook her head. ‘How’s The Judge doing these days? Really? Poor guy.’

  ‘Oh, you know, much the same. It’s hard to reconcile the man he is now with the man who held people’s lives in the balance for all those years.’ The man who’d shaped her life to the extent she’d purposefully cut people out of it, had run away, lost friends. And yet, who she’d grown to respect a little these last few days, even with the blips.

  ‘God, I hope I don’t end up like that.’ Sal shuddered. ‘Sorry, Em, but it’s a terrible way to go. A reasonably working body, and a mind that’s forgotten all the amazing things you’ve done, all the places you’ve been, the people you’ve known. The fun you had. It’s too sad.’

  Em stared into her glass. ‘To be honest, I’m quite glad he hasn’t remembered who I am. Makes things a little easier.’

  ‘He doesn’t know who you are?’

  ‘No. He puts his own spin on it. Every day I’m someone different. Sometimes three people in one day.’ She didn’t mention the scene in the café, and neither did Greta, thankfully. ‘I imagine he’ll be glad when Tamara gets back and he won’t have me telling him what to do all the time.’

  ‘You think Tamara doesn’t boss him around? What? Is she having a personality transplant in Paris?’ Greta bit her lip. ‘Oops. Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.’

  At least it wasn’t just Emily who had a hard time with Tamara. She couldn’t help smiling. ‘So she hasn’t changed much then?’

  ‘If anything, I’d say she’s got worse,’ Sally said. ‘She’s on the summer fête committee and no one can get a word in. It’s all… do it her way or no way.’

  Em knew how that could be. ‘I’m so out of touch, I feel terrible. We haven’t really talked much over the years. None of us. Or rather, me and them. It’s mainly my fault. I should have rung them, checked in every now and then.’ It had always been a me and them situation, though. It was nothing new.

  Greta smiled softly. ‘Hey, we all remember, you know. We know what she can be like and what you went through. I’m sure she could just as easily have contacted you. Anyway, it was probably better to let the dust settle over everything.’

  That made Emily feel so much better – although a little disloyal to Tam. Surely she’d mellowed? Surely she couldn’t be the same as she was? ‘I don’t suppose there’s been a man around? Boyfriend?’ Fancy having to ask people she hardly knew about her stepsister’s love life.

  ‘There was one guy. Once. Tall, older guy. Looked like a country gent in a tweed jacket and moustache. They used to come in for drinks every now and then, or go hiking – you’d see them in all their outdoor gear and with two huge Great Danes. But he disappeared after a year or so, never to be seen again. We all wondered whether she’d pushed him off some mountain.’ Sally laughed and lifted her hand. ‘Seriously, as far as her private life goes, she keeps herself to herself.’

  A family trait, one way or another. So, Tamara was just a more intense version of her teenage self, whereas Em had worked hard to recreate a softer, different Emily. Instead of being the tormented teenager, she’d moulded herself into someone she’d wanted to be. Dress not for the job you have, but for the job you want… She’d heard that and adapted it to her life. Trouble was, now she didn’t know who she really was: the quietly confident, successful, independent woman or the vibrant, fired-up emotional soul she’d been ten years ago.

  She liked the new Emily… even if her life did seem to be too good to be true sometimes. Even if it felt as if she was wearing a heavy coat that she occasionally wanted to throw off, and just be wild, just be herself, just for the hell of it.

  ‘So, this fiancé of yours… What’s his name?’ Greta was staring at her ring, her eyes lit by excitement and genuine interest.

  Emily looked at it and waited to feel excited. She didn’t. ‘Brett. Brett Fallon.’

  ‘Oh, that sounds so exotic. So American.’

  Emily laughed. ‘I’ll tell him that; he’d think that was very funny.’

  ‘Any pictures? You must have some?’

  ‘Sure.’ She found her phone and scrolled through the photos, not wanting to think about the weird feelings whirring through her whenever she thought about the wedding. No, not just the wedding, but the marriage. The whole giving of herself to someone else. To Brett. She most certainly didn’t want to talk about it.

  And she’d clearly had too much wine.

  Sal nudged her as her eyes widene
d. ‘Oh, my God. He’s gorgeous… wow.’

  ‘Yes, he is. He’s actually very lovely and I know he’d do anything for me.’ And now she felt guilty for even thinking about doubts. But she couldn’t ignore them, either.

  ‘Hey, are you okay?’ It was Sal, giving her a strange look. ‘You’ve gone a bit sad. Aww, are you missing him? All this talk about him and you’d much rather be there than here.’

  ‘No. No, I’m fine. Sorry.’

  Greta was watching her, too, with a concerned frown. ‘You sure?’

  ‘Absolutely.’ Without further ado she flipped her phone back into her bag and shook her head. Don’t ask. Please, don’t ask.

  She asked. ‘They all look good on paper, right? Everything okay in fiancé land? Second thoughts? Trouble in paradise?’

  ‘No. It’s nothing. Nothing. We’re great.’ But she knew it didn’t sound convincing. Not wanting to analyse anything any further she deflected. ‘The guy at the bar… the barman, Liam. He keeps looking over. Any reason?’

  Sally’s eyes nearly popped out of her head as her cheeks flushed. ‘No. No reason.’

  Greta giggled. ‘Should I wave?’

  ‘Don’t you bloody dare.’ Sal nudged her. ‘Just laugh as if I’ve told you the most hilarious joke in the world and look at me like I’m the light of your life.’

  ‘Newsflash: she’s interested. We don’t know if he is…’ Greta whispered. ‘He’s collecting glasses. Coming over… incoming… incoming…’

  This was the best distraction from her own sorry life. Finally, out of the spotlight. ‘Er… should Greta and I disappear for a minute? Leave you here on your own? That way he’s more likely to talk, without an audience.’

  ‘Great idea.’ Greta stood. ‘Epic. Bathroom, Emily?’

  ***

  ‘Is the coast clear?’ Having refreshed her lipstick, Em walked out of the bathroom and sidled up to the bar, all the better to get a good view of the Sally-Liam scenario. They were chatting. Sally was laughing. Liam was leaning closer. ‘I think we should hang here for a minute. My round, yes?’

  ‘Thanks, I’ll have a pint of bitter, please.’

  The voice in her ear was not giddy Greta’s and it made her stomach knot.

  Jacob Taylor. Of course.

  ‘Oh! You made me jump. You have a very bad habit of doing that.’

  Standing off to her right, a half-finished pint in hand, he leant against the corner of the bar. Dressed in an old grey T-shirt and faded jeans, he smiled at her with those dazzling blue eyes. They were definitely his best feature.

  And she was an engaged woman.

  Plus, he might be trying to scam The Judge out of his last pennies, according to Tamara, anyway. ‘Oh, er… actually, I’m in a round with the girls. It’s a little –’

  ‘Awkward? Yes, don’t worry – it was a bad attempt at a joke. I’m in a round with that lot over there, anyway.’ He pointed towards a group of men gathered around the darts board. ‘How’s the roof? Did you get some quotes?’

  ‘Yes, thank you. I had someone round this afternoon and Sally’s going to send her dad round tomorrow.’

  ‘Oh, so you contacted the Rigbys, after all?’

  ‘Yes, in the end.’ He had an I told you so look on his face. ‘It’s a long, sordid story of dastardly deeds. But everything’s sorted out now. Bygones are well and truly gone.’

  He nodded. ‘Glad to hear it. Not good to have bygones in a place like Little Duxbury.’

  ‘Or Manhattan. Or anywhere, really. Bygones are not a good thing.’ She was rambling. Where was the super-sophisticated Emily when she needed her?

  His eyes met hers and there was a little jump in her pulse as he asked, ‘What is it you do there? Manhattan?’

  She realised she was swaying slightly. It had been quite a while since she’d drunk this amount of alcohol. ‘I do wonderful things. With wonderful people.’

  ‘I wouldn’t imagine anything less. And this wonderful job is…?’

  ‘Advertising. Going back on Sunday.’

  ‘And leaving all this behind? How could you possibly bear to go?’

  She laughed. ‘It’s been interesting – and challenging – at times, I have to admit. But I have a life you know, I’m not …’ She gesticulated around the room. ‘This. This isn’t me. I have friends and a life. I have a fiancé.’ She held out her hand and showed him the ring her Little Duxbury friends had been going all mushy over. He glanced at it with a disturbing disinterest. ‘Yes, I noticed it the first day I met you. Congratulations. What’s he called, this fiancé of yours?’

  ‘Brett. He works with me.’

  One eyebrow rose. ‘Cosy.’

  The way he said it made her a little off guard. ‘Are you laughing at me?’

  ‘Hell, no, Emily. It sounds as if you’ve got your life all worked out. Well done.’

  ‘I like to think so. I have the job, the man, the life I always aimed for. I had a plan, you see – a road map – from the age of eighteen, and I stuck to it. And you?’

  ‘Hmmm, no, I haven’t found the man I was aiming for.’ He smiled again; it was amazing and yet gentle at the same time. He was a big, serious man with a disarming smile. ‘Or the woman, for that matter. I haven’t got life planned out and I don’t like maps. Sometimes it’s good to throw caution to the wind and explore completely new territory, you know?’

  His gaze caught hers and there was that unsettling feeling she’d felt before with him. As if he could read her thoughts, see into her head. It was unnerving and discomfiting. And there was an undercurrent to what he was saying, but she was a little too tipsy to work it out. All she knew was that the thought of throwing everything out and charting new territory was massively anxiety-inducing and thrilling at the same time.

  ‘Well, I hope you don’t get lost without your map.’ She saw Greta beckoning to her. ‘Got to go.’

  ‘Bye, then.’ As she nudged past him she got a whiff of his scent. A heady mix of an exotic aftershave and clean man. It wove through her and she felt a very strange sensation flutter in her stomach. She turned away, shaken by the feeling. Quite shaken indeed.

  ***

  There was a warm glow in the centre of her chest as Emily made her way back towards The Hall. It had been a good night, of good things. She felt as if she’d taken a shaky step towards fixing something that had knocked the shine off her life for long enough.

  The only thing to challenge the glow was the company she was now keeping.

  Jacob Taylor.

  Obviously.

  The sky was a thick black, glittering with stars. It was cold, but she was rugged up with his jacket, and the chill on her face made her feel alive and fresh. And, she hoped, it would sober her up a bit. Somehow she’d agreed to him escorting her home; they were headed in the same direction, after all – which was the opposite one to Greta and Sally.

  Feeling very guilty about being out so late she quickened her pace. ‘I shouldn’t have stayed so long. Tom’s probably pacing the floor up there. I hope The Judge didn’t play up for him.’

  ‘He knew where you were, and who you were with.’ Jacob was being eminently reasonable. ‘If there’d been a problem he’d have rung.’

  ‘I guess.’ Despite his assurances the guilt was still there. She’d been out having a great time while paying someone else to do what she’d come here to do. ‘Is this what it’s like, do you think, having kids? The never-ending concern? Having to constantly think about someone else?’

  Jacob’s eyebrows furrowed. ‘Yes, of course, and a lot more worries besides. It’s also great fun, so I’ve heard, and worth every minute. But you’re acting as if you didn’t deserve a night off. You’ve been joined at the hip to Judge Evans since you got here – forgive me for saying, Emily, but that would be enough to drive anyone to drink.’

  She laughed. ‘You’re forgiven. You know him better than me.’

  She wanted to tell him how conflicted she’d been about going out at all. How she’d found herself caught b
etween fixing things from her past and trying to straighten out her present. How angry she’d felt when she realised The Judge had known he was hurting her and hadn’t tried to fix it. But why bare her soul to someone she hardly knew, especially when she didn’t even bare her soul to her fiancé?

  ‘How’s Judge Evans doing? When he’s not pining for you?’ There was a halting smile, a gentle tease in Jacob’s tone. ‘He hasn’t been doing his night-time wanderings recently.’

  ‘When I got here he was hobbling and bent and confused. But now his back is straighter than ever, and he’s smiling. He isn’t searching for that damned dead dog all the time. There’s something about him that’s different and it’s not just because we changed his medication, I’m sure of it.’ Who knows what more she might have achieved if they hadn’t had that shaky past to surmount?

  ‘I don’t want to burst your bubble, Emily, but it probably is just the antibiotics.’

  She hoped not, she really did. But maybe he was right; either that or just coincidence. From what she’d researched so far, dementia was unpredictable. The Judge certainly flipped back and forth between here and lost pretty frequently. ‘Okay, well, maybe it’s just because I make sure the door’s ultra-double-locked every night.’

  ‘Regardless, you’ve made a difference. He’ll miss you when you go back to your wonderful job and wonderful city.’

  ‘Well, who’s going to cook him the worst food he’s ever eaten? And boss him about and make him do laundry and jobs around the house?’ She laughed and there was a sudden strange pain in the centre of her chest. It had only been a few days and yet she felt like she’d covered decades in emotional years. The threads tying her to Little Duxbury were tugging a little tighter.

  The road was narrowing and she had to walk closer to Jacob so as to stay away from the ditch. The memory of being pushed down there flitted across her mind and she thrust it away. That was over and done with; she could finally forget that night and the ramifications that had permeated through her life. Finally, she was letting go of the guilt and the anger and the humiliation. She breathed out slowly then filled her chest with cleansing air.