A Walk in the Park (2 page)

The offices smelled exactly like lawyers' offices always did: dry, serious, and papery with undertones of dust and Pledge. Arriving with five minutes to spare, Lara was directed to a seat in the waiting room and offered a selection of magazines only a lawyer could love.

Her mind was occupied anyway. So much had already happened. Seeing Evie again and retelling the story had stirred it all up again.

Well, retelling half the story. Lara closed her eyes, her stomach clenching as the old feelings came crashing back. In the days leading up to that fateful night, her life might not have been perfect but it had been manageable. On the downside, her mother's death from cancer three years earlier had been horrendous, leaving her with a father who'd never been much of a father in the traditional sense. Less than six months after the funeral,
allegedly
, he had met Janice. In no time at all she'd been installed in the house, filling it with the cloying scent of her perfume and a vast collection of china ornaments. In no time at all, Lara had become the gooseberry, the third wheel, the unwanted extra. When she overheard Janice talking on the phone, saying, “She's just in the
way
, why can't she just join the army or something?” it hadn't come as a surprise. It wasn't as if Janice was pleasant to her face and moaned about her behind her back. From the word go, she hadn't bothered to pretend to be nice.

So life at home had been pretty grim, basically, but it hadn't mattered as much as it might have done, because at least she'd had Flynn. And when you were sixteen years old, with the best boyfriend in the world… well, that made up for a lot. At the time, it had meant pretty much everything. Having Flynn in her life had made the awful stuff bearable. As a couple they could get through anything; together they could cope.

Until the day of the argument.

Lara could recall every last second of that day, from the moment she'd been gripped with fear at the realization that her period was late, all the way through to the following morning when she'd finally fallen into an exhausted sleep on the train.

It had been a Friday afternoon and she'd been in double math, wrestling with trigonometry, when the date had nudged her with its significance. Normally as regular as clockwork, she was five days overdue.
Oh
God, please no. They'd been so careful…

After school, numb with terror, she had stood in the pharmacy, gazing at the pregnancy testing kits and discovering she couldn't afford to buy one.

Then meeting up with Flynn, actually voicing her fears aloud was easier said than done. The words twisted themselves into knots inside her chest and refused to come out. Flynn would be appalled. He was seventeen years old. This wasn't part of the plan.

By ten o'clock that evening she still hadn't been able to pluck up the courage to tell him. Maybe she'd wake up tomorrow and everything would be all right, the problem would be resolved. Leaving it for another twenty-four hours wouldn't hurt.

That was when the phone had rung and Flynn had taken the call inviting him to spend the next few days at a skiing tournament in Austria. It was also the moment Lara realized she was on her own. Thrilled by the opportunity to take part in the tournament, Flynn said yes without even checking first that she was fine with it.

He put the phone down, and that was when the argument had begun. At first he thought she was joking. Amazed by her reaction, he assumed she was upset because his parents could afford to pay for him to fly over to Austria and her father would never do that. The fight went on and on, spiraling beyond all reason because Lara now knew she couldn't tell him what might be wrong. He was Flynn Erskine, the boy all the other girls fancied, the gilded sports star with his life ahead of him and a genuine talent that was already getting him noticed in the world of downhill skiing.

She called him self-centered, he told her she was turning into a crazy person. She yelled that he only cared about himself, and Flynn, gazing at her as if she were a complete stranger, said, “My God, I can't believe you actually think that.” She bellowed that she couldn't believe she'd wasted the last eight months with someone like him, and he shouted back that if he'd known she was going to turn into a neurotic basket case, he'd never have got involved in the first place.

The argument had culminated with her announcing that she never ever wanted to see him again and storming out of his parents' house. But having lost track of time, she'd already missed the last bus. Being late home had been a bone of contention for months, filling her father with rage and bringing with it the threat of, “If you can't abide by our rules, you can get out.” She'd never imagined he'd actually see it through, but it turned out she'd underestimated him. When she let herself into the house forty minutes later, her father and Janice had had plenty of time in which to plan their own line of attack.

Not to mention haul the suitcases down from the loft.

Lara jumped as her mobile phone rang, bringing her crashing back to the present.

“Hi, it's me. How's it going?”

“Everything's fine.” She relaxed at the sound of Gigi's voice. “I'm just waiting to see the lawyer. Bought anything nice?”

“A scarf with vampires on it in H&M and a leopard-print bra from Victoria's Secret!”

“The perfect outfit for any job interview.” As Lara said it, the door to the lawyer's office opened and an elderly man came toward her. “Looks like I'm going in now.” She picked up her bag and rose to her feet. “OK, sweetie, won't be long. I'll call you as soon as I'm finished.”

***

What must it have been like for Aunt Nettie? At the age of forty-seven, never married, and having devoted her life to her animals, how must she have felt when Lara arrived on her doorstep with two large battered suitcases and a small embryo by way of baggage?

In all probability her heart must have sunk all the way down to her sturdy dog-walking boots.

“I'm really sorry. I didn't know where else to go. Don't worry, I'll think of something.” Lara's voice was muffled by the thick scratchy wool of Nettie's bright purple hand-knitted sweater. Clothes were about on a par, priority-wise, with eyelash extensions and the latest developments in pentapeptides. The sweater smelled of soap and dog. Nettie's yellow corduroy trousers had probably been donated by an ancient farmer to the local charity shop. That she had been Lara's mum's older sister seemed impossible; Barbara had been as elegant as Audrey Hepburn, the delicate whippet to Nettie's galumphing wolfhound.

But Nettie was a good soul with a heart of gold beneath the bluff exterior. Hugging Lara, she said gruffly, “You did the right thing, love. You're staying here with me.”

OK, get it over and done with. Say it now. “And I think I might be going to have a baby.”

Nettie pulled away, held her at arm's length, and gazed down at her stomach. “What, right this minute?”

Lara heard herself make a strange half sob, half laugh. “No, but maybe in about eight months.”

“Oh well. So we've got plenty of time to get used to the idea. Got a boyfriend?”

Her heart ached. “Not anymore.”

But Nettie's no-nonsense, can-do attitude was infectious. Over the course of the next day or two they walked the dogs and talked and talked about everything. Nettie went into the local pharmacy and bought a pregnancy testing kit: “Ha, that'll get the locals excited!” The test proved positive and they talked some more, coming to the conclusion that of course Lara was far too young to become a mother but between them they'd cope, and
not
having the child might make more sense but it simply wasn't an option. Neither of them could bear to do that.

And that was it. From then on there was no going back. Lara shed her old life like a snake sloughing off its skin. Two days after leaving Bath, her father called. Nettie had answered the phone.

“It's Charles.” His tone was abrupt; the pair of them had never liked each other. “Have you heard from Lara?”

“Yes, I have.” In turn, Nettie was cool. “She's here. And this is where she's staying. This is her home from now on.”

“Fine by me.” He sounded relieved. “You'd better let the police know she's still alive then. That boyfriend of hers is threatening to report her missing.”

“She doesn't want anything to do with him either,” said Nettie. “Don't go telling him where she is.”

Charles replied curtly, “Why would I?” and hung up.

“There, all done.” Nettie put down the phone. “You know what? We should have done this three years ago. I thought about it, you know. But I didn't want to drag you away from your home and all your friends.”

Lara gazed around the messy, informal kitchen with the dog bowls lined up in a row and the latest batch of puppies curled up asleep in their basket in front of the stove. Currently deep in self-preservation mode, she wasn't allowing herself to even think about Evie and her other friends. She
certainly
wasn't allowing herself to think about Flynn.

Aloud, she said with a crack in her voice, “I wish you had.”

Lara waited on a bench in Victoria Park and watched a couple of teenagers heading her way along the path, arm in arm, heads bent together and hips touching. Just like she and Flynn used to do when they had come here all those years ago. The boy whispered something in the girl's ear and she burst out laughing, responding with a playful dig in the ribs. Oh yes, they used to do that too.

As they passed by, the girl said, “…Dad was asking if you'd like to go to the soccer match with him on Saturday, because he's managed to get an extra ticket.”

The boy's face lit up. “Cool!”

OK,
that
didn't used to happen.

Then her phone rang again.

“Mum, I'm in the park now, by the playground. Where are you?”

Lara spotted her and lifted her hand. “Look higher and over to the right. See me waving? Come on up.”

She sat back and watched as Gigi made her way up the hill. With her long legs, straight, swingy brown hair, and merry silver-gray eyes, she was a head-turner with killer cheekbones and a refreshing lack of vanity. Her beautiful willful daughter, the love of her life, the happiest accident she'd ever had. And by the looks of things she'd been on a spree; her arms were weighed down with bags.

What happened next would be all down to Gigi. Was their world about to change? Who knew?

“Phew, I'm shattered!” Gigi flung herself onto the bench and produced a can of Diet Coke from one of the shopping bags. She opened the ring-pull—
tssssssttt
—and drank thirstily. “Ah, that's better. The shops here are great.” She offered Lara the can. “I found this little boutiquey place having the most brilliant sale. Anyway, how was it? What did the lawyer say? Have you got the jewelry?”

This had been the reason for coming down to Bath. When the lawyer had called to inform her of her father's death and had also suggested they meet to discuss his will, Lara had been mystified. She knew her father too well to expect him to leave her anything of value. The inevitable conclusion was that he was passing on the few items of jewelry that had belonged to her mum. Not much and nothing for Sotheby's to get excited about, but unbelievably precious nonetheless. All these years on, she could still picture her mum wearing each piece… the tiny daisy ring, the thin bangles, and the three narrow gold chains she'd always worn around her neck. There'd also been a long coral necklace, a jade pendant, and a bracelet of sheeny black pearls.

And it was just as well she could still picture the items of jewelry, seeing as there had been no mention of them this afternoon.

“No. But we're getting something else.” Lara realized she was still in shock; her hands were trembling. “You're not going to believe this. It's the house.”

Gigi choked on her drink. “Are you joking?”

“I wouldn't.”

“But why? My God, because he felt guilty about kicking you out? Oh wow, that's so—”

“No,” Lara leaped in before Gigi could start thinking sentimental thoughts about the grandfather she'd never known. “It's nothing to do with that. The house was never his in the first place.”

“What? How can that happen?” Gigi was stunned. “He's lived in it for the last thirty years!”

Thirty-two years, actually. When Lara had been born, her parents had been living in a flat in Bradford on Avon, just a few miles outside Bath. Then, when she was three, they had moved into the house she'd grown up in. Her father had worked in a bank. She had always assumed they'd bought it with the help of a mortgage. This afternoon's meeting with the lawyer had been a revelation in more ways than one.

“The house was bought in my mum's name. And it was paid for in cash. When she wrote her will she left it in trust for me. But if she died before my father, he was allowed to live there for as long as he needed to. And now he doesn't need it anymore.” Lara sat back and puffed out her cheeks. “Which means it's properly mine.”

“We've got a house. We've actually got a house!” Gigi kicked her legs in the air. “Woo-hoo! We can sell it!”

“Yes.” How much would it fetch? Bearing in mind that this was a super-pricey city. Guessing wildly, Lara estimated four to five hundred thousand pounds.

“Or we could live in it!”

Lara's heart went thuddity-thud. “You mean here in Bath?”

“I was thinking we could maybe attach it to five million multicolored helium balloons and float it to wherever takes our fancy.” Gigi rolled her eyes. “Yes, Mum,
of
course
here in Bath.”

“Why?” Did she already know the answer to that question?

“Why not? Because we can!” Her daughter's sweeping arm indicated the park, the trees, the Georgian houses of honey-colored Bath stone, the rolling hills in the distance. “You always said you'd never come back as long as your father was alive. But he's dead now, so that's that taken care of. Your mum's just given you a house. And I really love this city,” said Gigi. “I know this is going to sound mad, but being here for the first time just feels…
right
. I liked the shops. I like the people. You know when you get that squeeze in your chest, like falling a little bit in love?” She pressed her clenched fist to her breastbone for emphasis. “That's how I've been feeling all afternoon! It's like coming home.”

“But what about your friends? Wouldn't you miss them?”

“Mum, we're eighteen, everyone's heading off to different places now anyway. Universities… gap years… we're all moving on. Besides, there's phones and Facebook, and we can still meet up when we want to. It's not as if we'd lose touch.” She shrugged and said, “Plus, moving to a new place means making new friends.”

For a moment Lara couldn't speak. Gigi's instincts were a huge part of her personality; when she fell in love, whether with a piece of art, a new recipe, unicycling or kayaking or diving, it was never a passing whim. It became a passion.

And in all honesty how could she disagree with this one? She felt exactly the same way. Keswick and the Lake District had been wonderful but she had always loved her hometown, had missed it desperately for so many years.

They could do it. There was nothing to stop them.

Other than Flynn Erskine.