It wasdark when I left the restaurant, heading to the studio where Lauren was taking lessons in tap, trying to build her skills for the auditions she had coming up for different schools. It was the first time she’d properly taken part in something since her uncle had died and she’d asked if I could get her after I’d finished work.
My car was parked a little further from the restaurant than usual, my normal spot taken. The walk was needed though, the air cool with a bite that reminded me of the seasons and that the world still turned. I wanted to see Jack, to ask him more about Rebecca, but I wasn’t sure that now was the right time. He was grieving.
My man was grieving.
My man.
I thought about him as I walked; how he was hurting because of Robert, how he loved his daughter, his parents, me. How I’d never felt so settled and happy with anyone else. How he put me on a pedestal I didn’t need or deserve, because I wanted him to want me for me, not because of what I had created with the restaurants.
Going home and knowing he was there made me want to leave work, something I’d resisted. The large monstrosity of a house seemed more like mine when he and Lauren were there; now I wasn’t sure about how I’d feel when they went home.
I didn’t see it coming; didn’t notice anyone near my car, so when a something smacked the back of my head I didn’t have time to react. Shock didn’t even have time to register, my head hitting the cold metal of the car and everything fading to black.
Chapter 16
Jack
The stone bench felt exactly as I needed it. Fucking stable and solid. Everything around me was swimming and fluid and I felt that if I stood up I’d end up on the floor, trying to hold on to anything. Something.
I wasn’t waiting for the phone call anymore.
Robert was gone and he wouldn’t be turning up in a week’s time, half-smiling and avoiding questions about where he’d been like he had the bullets while he was on tour.
And he’d left me a fucking fortune.
I’d left the solicitor’s an hour ago, having been read the contents of his will. A will I’d never known he’d made. Money I’d never known he had. Money he didn’t want.
There were two things I had to do with it: put some into a trust for Lauren’s dance school or a deposit on a house or both, and make a donation to the centre. But he’d specified an amount I had to keep for myself. For me. So I could live for both of us.
My brother hadn’t wanted to live after what he’d experienced. I knew sleep tortured him; being within four walls made him want to curl up into a ball and scream and he lived on high alert. He’d died protecting someone and he wouldn’t have wanted it any other way, but he didn’t want us enough.
I knew I’d never understand.
I shouldn’t be in the middle of a park, the starless night an uncomforting blanket. I needed to go home, to see Lauren and Simone, to hear their conversation and hopefully their laughter.
My phone vibrated in the pocket of my jeans, a tune that I barely heard echoing through the empty air. Lauren never phoned me. My daughter communicated by message only.
“Lolly?”
“Dad, Simone’s not here.” She sounded panicked.
I glanced at my watch: Simone should’ve picked her up half an hour ago. It was too far for her to walk back to Simone’s.
“Has she texted to say she’s running late?”
“No. I’ve tried phoning her three times and I phoned all her restaurants. I thought she might’ve forgotten the time or something, but they said she wasn’t there.” Lauren was close to tears, her voice fracturing.
“She was at Mount Street. I’ll head over there. We need to get you in a cab. I’ll Uber you one. I want you to text me when you’re in it.”
“Do you think something’s happened to her? Is it the person who’s trying to hurt her?” Lauren hadn’t heard anything about the cab.
I was practically running by now, knowing I was around fifteen minutes from Mount Street. “Lolly, I’m calling you a cab. Get yourself home. You have to look after yourself while I find Simone.”
There was the chance she’d gotten cold feet, that she’d realised she’d taken on too much with a single father and his fifteen-year-old daughter, but that didn’t sound like Sim. Something had happened. My stomach started to retch into my throat, my fingers hurriedly organising a taxi for Lauren.
London never seemed so vast. Streets that were a stroll away were continents apart. The Mount Street Social was three-quarters full when I barged in and yelled for Simone, not give a flying fuck about disturbing diners.
“She left half an hour ago,” one of the bartenders told me. “She had to get to her car – she couldn’t park in the usual space…”
