‘There is nothing to explore, for a million reasons, but right up there is what it would do to Aiden and Iris. I could not, would not do that to them. It’d be ghastly.’
‘I think you might have a million reasons lined up, but none of them can account for how Ifeelwhen I’m with you.’
It was as she opened her mouth to respond that she heard Aiden call out.
‘Mu-um!’ her son yelled and she jumped, sloshing the water over the side of the tub.
‘Just a minute! I’m in the bath!’ she yelled, fearful of discovery, a reminder, as if it were needed, that this was not a good situation to be in. It felt sneaky, deceitful, and she was right, nothing good should ever feel this way. She held the phone close to her face, whispering now, ‘I’d better...’
‘Yes, of course, of course.’
Without any lingering goodbye, she ended the call. And hopped out of the bath.
‘Everything okay, love?’ she called through her bedroom door, which she held ajar, doing her utmost to keep her voice steady.
‘Yes,’ her son shouted across the landing, ‘have we got any crisps?’
She almost laughed at the request, thinking how their call was ended prematurely. Which was, she decided, probably a good thing.
‘In the larder. Hidden from myself behind the breakfast cereal.’
Wrapped in her towel, her hair wet, she sat on the corner of the bed and tried to calm her flustered pulse, unsure what to make of her late-night caller and the unsatisfying way they had left things. So he had signed the lease on a flat, did that make a difference? Her phone beeped, a text.
Hope You Didn’t Drop Your Spaghetti In The Bath! I Joke. It’s Laugh Or Cry, Right?
Dominic...She had quite forgotten her lie and, not for the first time that evening, hung her head with something close to shame. It felt akin to being on a roller coaster, thrilling and terrifying in equal measure. Since Jonathan died, she had been waiting for her life to start, but knew no matter how strong the attraction, she could not easily jump from being Jonathan’s widow, could not find pleasure if it was to be at the expense of another woman’s happiness, and could not get involved with the man who was to be her son’s father-in-law. It was sticky, complicated and unpredictable, none of which she needed right now, as she battled to heal the rift with Jenny and tried to advise Aiden on how best to proceed.
It was only when she looked up that she saw her husband standing by the window, facing the road, his back to her; his stance spoke of disappointment, and it was like a punch to the throat.
‘I’m sorry...’ she whispered, ‘I’m so sorry.’ But still he didn’t turn around.
Chapter Sixteen
It was a busy day as ever in the offices of Greengate and Greengate, the two elderly proprietors who wore similar dark suits. No doubt expensive and tailored to fit when first made, but which now hung on their hook-shaped frames and were shiny on the arms and knees. They also both sported grey wiry hair that had barely thinned, with equal amounts of matching nose and ear tufts. As if their whole heads were full of the stuffing that found any old orifice from which to sprout.
Theirs was a fusty office with wooden desks, and creaking chairs with sharp mechanisms to adjust the height and tilt that could sever a finger with the merest glance. Chairs, like the men themselves, that were assembled long before the advent of health and safety. There was minimal technological intervention to their tried and tested processes. Paperwork was meticulously filed and crammed into dented filing cabinets. Here too, an overly loud clock, which required winding, ticked on the mantelpiece. It was now strangely silent to her, as if her brain had filtered it out or got so used to it; either way, it no longer troubled her.
Enya was at the beck and call of every request, every enquiry and at the mercy of the many letters, parcels and documents that needed signing for and distributing. Not that she minded the hectic work pace today, glad of the distraction from the distressthat walking past Jenny’s florist’s had caused, the beautiful shop that she had thought would be her new home. Not only was her retirement now something she feared without any clue as to what came next, but it was hard to see how they moved forward when Jenny was avoiding her. Enya hoped her words had not been in vain when she said that time would help, that things would seem better when the dust had settled.
She had eaten her lunch at her desk, as was customary. Not that she had time for a break, but, spurred on by hunger, had unwrapped the food while she worked. One quick bite and she’d turned up her nose at the rather unappetising hummus and cucumber sandwich, which had been made in such a hurry with items grabbed from the fridge that she had given inadequate thought to the sog factor. Relief was to be found in the crunch of her Squares crisps, her one indulgence that went some way to restoring her mood. Aiden had, thankfully, left one packet. Not that there was much fun to be had in a break of any kind without catching up on funny texts from Jenny or letting her know an idea or a thought for the florist’s. There they were again, those darned tears hovering so close to the surface. She missed her friend more than she could say, and had walked with uncharacteristic caution past the florist’s, trying not to look in, wary of catching her friend’s eye and having to cope with the rejection, knowing she was too tired to deal with it in a composed manner today. Her life would, she knew, be so much easier to understand if she had Jenny to comb over the facts with in the way they used to.
The phone rang non-stop. Only twenty minutes left until she clocked off and she was already picturing a gigantic mug of tea and a packet of custard creams. It was one of the few advantages of her widowhood, not having to consult anyone about supper plans. She was, if she so chose, able to snaffle biscuits on the sofa in lieu of a decent vegetable, like a teenager who’d been left alone to fendfor herself while her parents were out of town. She would be lying if she didn’t acknowledge a certain restlessness to her spirit today, as she replayed her conversation with Dominic over and over...
‘... knowing you are out there in the world is filling my crappy life with joy!’
‘Mine too.’ She whispered the admission, knowing it wouldn’t help in the long run to harbour these feelings she could never act upon, for what, a fling? Yet she couldn’t help the smile that crept across her face, a visceral reaction to the memory of him saying these very words. To be wanted by someone, anyone, was flattering; to be wanted by someone like him, even more so. It was a lovely, secret distraction when she needed it most. All the glorious possibilities of what it might or could be were, however, elbowed out by the sharp reality of their situation. It was bittersweet even to contemplate.
The bell above the office door rang and she jolted, as if caught out, thankful that her thoughts were just that. She looked up to see Jenny and Holly standing in front of her. Her smile widened as a flare of happiness exploded inside her, flooding her with sweet relief! Jenny! Her best friend! Her heart lifted at the sight of her as she let her thoughts rush ahead; reunion followed by forgiveness. It was only as she imagined it that she understood how much she truly longed for it!
‘Oh! Holly! Jen!’ Jumping up, she walked forward and pulled the girl in for a tight hug. ‘Oh, love.’
The young woman’s demeanour had changed little since she’d last seen her only days ago.
It was hard to know what to say, how best to comfort the girl who sobbed against her. It was galling to see anyone so distressed, let alone Holly, who she had loved for the longest time, and who had for the last decade been as much part of her family as anyone else. Only she wasn’t. Holly shared no blood and only had a seat at thetable by invitation. An invite that Aiden had abruptly withdrawn. She caught Jenny’s eye and felt the instant stab of dismissal as her friend blinked and looked away, as if they were strangers. Having misjudged the visit, Enya fought the desire to cry, to howl. This was not the kind of reunion she had envisaged. It made no suggestion of forgiveness, and the realisation left her quite bereft.
‘She wanted to come and see you, but didn’t want to risk coming to the house, in case...’ Jenny let this trail, her tone laced with bitterness and anger that Enya wanted to address, to remind her friend that it was Aiden who had caused this, and yet it was she, Enya, who was suffering. There had to be a way to work it out, there absolutely had to be a way! But not in front of Holly, the girl had enough going on.
‘I understand.’ And she did. Letting her go, she studied the face of the girl who only a blink ago had been little Holly Hudson who lived two doors down. ‘How are you?’ It was a silly question, vacuous and inconsiderate, but just seemed to slip out, habit.
