A Walk in the Park (9 page)

Low, low, as low as she'd thought she'd ever go. But, realistically, he was a virtual stranger. After a gap of almost nineteen years, how could she tell what he was really like now? He could be all talk and ruthless self-absorption for all she knew. Back in school he'd always been convinced he knew best, had hated conceding defeat in any aspect of life, whether in or out of the classroom or on the sports field. Tall, confident, the one with all the opinions and answers, that had been Flynn Erskine. He was the biggest achiever of their year. Of course, if he hadn't been so competitive by nature, he would never have made the British downhill team…

“Oh
God
.” Lara exhaled and realized from her tingling fingertips that she'd been hyperventilating with frustration. She was still so mad she could throw something. In the kitchen she switched the kettle back on, by now desperate for tea. Gazing at her reflection in the shiny stainless steel side of the kettle, she saw a white smudge on her upper lip. Great, toothpaste, so she'd looked like an idiot too. Not that it mattered.

Bastard.

“Hi.” Evie came downstairs in her pajamas as she was wiping the toothpaste off. “Did I hear you talking to someone?”

“Flynn. He just left.”

“
Really?
” Evie's eyes widened. “Wow, quick work!”

Talk about jumping to the wrongest conclusion imaginable. “Not like that.”

“Oh, shame.”

“He and Gigi stayed up all night talking. She's asleep now. Flynn and I have just had a massive fight.” Lara's hands were still trembling; the mugs clattered as she took them out of the cupboard.

“Here, let me do that. Why did you fight?”

“He had a complete go at me because he's so sure he knows best.” It was the unexpectedness of the attack that had caught her off guard and left her so shaken. All the emotions stirred up by seeing Flynn again had been sent into a reverse tailspin. It was like the ultimate betrayal, mingled with her own inward guilt. Lara said, “Everything's my fault, apparently. I've deprived Gigi of having a father, I've cheated him out of having a daughter, I'm a selfish, spiteful cow…”

“Did he
call
you that?” Evie looked appalled.

“Yes!” Had he? When she was this wound up, it was hard to separate the actual words spoken from the ones implied. “Well, kind of. That's pretty much what he was saying. And he's never going to forgive me for not telling him before now, because if he'd known, he'd have dropped everything and devoted his whole life to being the World's Best Dad.
Obviously
.” Lara exhaled noisily like a punctured dodgeball. “I'm so mad I could explode. Thanks.” She took the tea from Evie and drank too much too quickly. To add insult to injury she now had a scalded mouth. “Right, I'm going to paint the living room.” She may as well make good use of all this fired-up energy. “What are you planning on doing today?”

“Um… I thought I'd go and fetch my stuff from Joel's later.”

Since returning to Bath, Evie had been gearing herself up for this task. “And before I do that, I need to visit Bonnie and Ray, talk to them. Apologize, I suppose.”

Bloody
men.

“You don't have to apologize. You did exactly the right thing,” said Lara. “Everything'll be fine.”

Evie managed a smile. “It'll be fine if I still have a job.”

***

It had been a weirdly dislocating experience, spending the last week and a half without her own things around her, not even her phone. But the time had come to get them back. And seeing as Joel would be at work and her key to his flat was in her handbag, which was in turn at Bonnie and Ray's house, this was Evie's first port of call.

She'd been bracing herself all the way here on the bus. Now, heading up to the house at eight thirty, Evie double-braced and mentally prepared herself for the worst.

The last time she'd crunched across this gravel she'd been climbing into a limo, about to be whisked to the church…

Anyway, don't think about that now. Evie licked her lips nervously and rang the bell. Joel's parents had appeared to be understanding and supportive on the day of the wedding but who was to say they hadn't had a rethink since then? What if Bonnie opened the door and threw a bucket of ice-cold water over her for wrecking her precious boy's life?

“Oh my goodness, you're back! Ray? Ray! It's Evie, she's here! My darling, come along inside, how are you? I'm so sorry! Are you OK?”

Flooded with relief, Evie found herself crushed against Bonnie's front. Being back felt like coming home. Bonnie was wearing her sky-blue MadAboutParties polo shirt, ready to open up the shop and start work at nine. She smelled of coffee and toast and soap, and the warmth of her welcome caused Evie's throat to constrict.

“Morning, Evie. Lovely to see you.” And now they'd been joined by Ray, patting her on the back. “Come along through, join us for breakfast. We've got toast.” His eyes twinkled with mischief. “Or if you like, there's plenty of leftover wedding cake.”

They sat round the kitchen table and talked. Of course she could come back to work; why wouldn't they want her? She was welcome to return as soon as she liked. As for the wedding debacle, it had been the talk of Bath. Joel was in disgrace and everyone had told him in no uncertain terms that he'd brought it on himself. They all thought Evie had been very brave. Of course she couldn't have gone through with the ceremony under the circumstances.

“He's our son and we love him,” Ray announced, “but he's been a prize idiot. And he knows it.”

Bonnie shook her head. “He's certainly heard it enough times.”

Awash with emotion, Evie experienced the first twinges of sympathy for Joel. From the sound of things he hadn't had the easiest of times. While she'd escaped to the Lakes, he'd evidently been left to face the music, finding himself ganged up on and given a hard time by all and sundry. She glanced down at her ring-free hands. “How is he?”

“Miserable.” Bonnie was blunt. “Devastated.”

Oh.

Ray said, “The thing is, he did wrong, but he does still love you.”

Oh God.

“Some people just can't resist temptation,” Bonnie went on. “And they always hope they'll get away with it. Like those professional footballers with lovely wives, but they cheat on them with girls who mean nothing at all. You'd think they'd learn, but they never do.”

The operative word being “never.”

“Sorry,” said Ray. “We're not defending him. Just trying to explain.”

“We care about you, darling. We don't want to lose you. If you need somewhere to stay”—Bonnie's eyes were bright—“your room's still here. We'd love to have you with us.”

“Thanks, but I'm OK for now. I've moved in with a friend.” Touched by the offer, Evie said, “It's really kind of you though. Actually, I'm planning to go over to the flat today and pick up my things. And I need to collect the stuff I left here too…”

***

Back at the house, Lara had already made a start on the living room. The furniture was swathed in sheets and she was energetically rollering the second coat of Vampire Red matt emulsion over walls that a couple of hours ago had been beige-with-a-hint-of-gray.

“Wow. Bit different.” Evie stood in the doorway, well away from the risk of roller spray.

“I know.” Stopping to survey her handiwork with satisfaction, Lara grinned. “If my father's haunting the house, he's going to be really hating this. How did it go with Joel's parents?”

“They're brilliant. I start back at work tomorrow. And I've got my handbag and overnight case back.” Evie held them up to show her. “Next stop, Joel's flat to pick up the rest.”

“Want me to come with you?”

“No, I'll be fine. OK if I take your car?”

“Help yourself.”

Evie collected the keys from the kitchen; she was in the mood to get everything sorted. Before leaving the house she called Joel's mobile and felt her heart flip at the sound of his voice.

“Hi, it's me. Are you at work?”

Was Joel's heart flipping over too? He hesitated for a moment before replying. “Yes. Does this mean you're back?”

“I am. Look, I'm coming over to the flat to collect my things. Is that OK?”

“Er…”

Hastily she said, “I'm not asking your permission, just being polite and giving you some warning. In case you have… visitors.”

“I don't have visitors.” He sounded hurt. “I'm at work though.”

“No problem. I can manage. Right, I just wanted to let you know.”

“Evie, I'm sorry—”

“Bye.” Pressing the disconnect button felt fantastic. For years she'd been a pushover, the person who turned a blind eye to anything she didn't want to see. Well, no more. She'd reached her limit and from now on no one was going to make her look like a fool.

I am strong.
I
am
Madonna
.

“Are you OK?” Lara was watching her.

Evie collected herself. “Yes, great.”

“Doing the Madonna thing again?” They'd talked about it.

“Yes.”

Lara approved of this method, despite never having done it herself. “Good girl.”

The flat she was no longer going to be living in was in Bannerdown, on the top floor of a modern complex. In truth, Evie had never loved it; having bought it brand new five years earlier, Joel had furnished and decorated the place in typical minimalist man-style. The gray suede sofa had never known cushions, electronic gadgets took priority and he had only bought items that were useful. Aesthetics simply weren't Joel's priority. When Evie had attempted to introduce candles and framed photos, he'd reacted with actual bafflement.

It would always have been Joel's flat; she was able to admit that now. Even after moving in, she would never have been able to completely relax. Especially not on that hard, angular gray sofa.

The visitor feeling was strong as Evie fitted her key into the lock. The flat smelled faintly of curry, bleach, and Joel's aftershave. She keyed in the code for the burglar alarm and made her way through to the kitchen. Everything was clean and tidy. Like a nosy burglar, she checked the bin. What was she expecting to see, a jaunty stash of empty champagne bottles? Or a pile of sad little baked bean tins? There were neither. Nor did the fridge give much away: a carton of milk, a couple of cans of lager, some dolcelatte cheese, a packet of bacon, and a bottle of freshly squeezed orange juice that had been there for weeks. The use-by date was the end of July; prod it and it might explode.

OK, move on. The living room was tidy too. It looked as masculine and stark as it always had. Evie went on through to the bedroom and stood beside the neatly made bed. Had he brought the hair and makeup girl—Kirsty—back here? Had other heads lain on her pillow since the day of the wedding? Unable to help herself, she picked up the pillow and smelled it. But no, it had been freshly laundered. Joel employed a cleaning lady to take care of all the mundane chores.

They'd been changed yesterday, though. And his own pillowcase, the one on the right, smelled of him. Despite everything, the scent exerted an emotional pull. When you'd adored someone for so many years, you couldn't delete that ingrained Pavlovian reaction overnight. Evie buried her face in Joel's soft squashy pillow and inhaled deeply. Tears prickled at the back of her eyes. She'd done the brave thing but she still loved him. And if you believed his parents, he still loved her. If it hadn't been for bloody Kirsty she'd be Mrs. Evie Barber by now. For better or for worse. And maybe he wouldn't have been the best husband in the world but you couldn't say he wasn't good-looking and charming—

Oh God,
door
.

Darting back in fright, Evie threw the pillow onto the bed so recklessly it cartwheeled and bounced off the other side. She raced round to grab it and cracked her shin on the bottom corner.
Ow
, that hurt. Gasping in pain she then launched herself at the pillow on the floor, threw it back on the bed, and saw it completely overshoot again.

Basketball had never been her forte.

It was too late now anyway. Joel had found her.

“What are you doing?” He was gazing at the pillows.

OK, what would Madonna do? Tell the truth, presumably.

Then again, maybe she didn't always have to emulate Madonna.

“I was looking at the labels on the pillows. I want to buy some the same and I couldn't remember if they were goose down or duck down.”

Well, what was she supposed to say, that she'd been breathing in the smell of him and getting all emotional?

“And what are they?”

“I don't know. I didn't have a chance to look.” Evie reached for the pillow still on the bed and hastily rummaged around inside the pillowcase. “Right, here's the label. White Hungarian goose down… OK, got it.”

Joel hesitated. “Were you… sniffing them?”

“What? No! God, why would I want to do that?”

“I don't know.” He gestured helplessly. “I'm so sorry. About everything.”

“You've already told me that.” She tensed her stomach muscles, pulled them in. “Anyway, I thought you were at work.”

“I canceled my appointments and came straight over. I've missed you.”

What was he expecting her to do? Fall into his arms sobbing and tell him she'd missed him too?

OK, but this was proving harder than she'd thought. Now that he was actually standing before her, being apologetic and looking so wounded, she could feel herself start to weaken. Maybe it was the pheromones in the pillow.

Stop
it, don't let it happen.

Evie forced herself to get a grip. “How's Kirsty?”

“What? I have no idea.” Joel shook his head and looked pained. “I told you, she didn't mean anything.”

“She obviously thought you did.”

“Well, she shouldn't have. She knew I was marrying you. I finished with her, that's what she couldn't handle. Because that's the thing,” Joel protested, “it all happened before the wedding. Once we were married, I wouldn't have done anything behind your back. Don't you see? That would have been the cut-off point. I swear on my life, once we'd said our vows I'd have been completely faithful.”

“Well, that's very… generous of you. But it's kind of beside the point,” said Evie. “We were together. The whole idea of being in a relationship is that you're faithful all the way through. Before you get married as well as after. Anyway, I don't know why I need to explain this. It's completely irrelevant now. We're not getting back together, so why are we even having this conversation?”

“We could get back together,” said Joel. “If you wanted to.”

Evie was taken aback; this wasn't something she'd anticipated. “Why would I want to? Why would
you
? Didn't I publicly humiliate you?”

“Yes, you did. And I deserved it. I'm taking the blame for everything.”

“Good! Glad to hear it! Because it was your fault!”

“But I know now. How much I love you. More than before.” Joel moved toward her. “I love it that it mattered that much to you. OK, I'll say this now: I always thought you knew when things happened in the past, but you pretended you didn't.”

Her stomach did a little flip. “You mean other girls?”

“Yes! But I never started it. They made the first moves. I just went along with it… and I thought you were OK with that, because you never said anything. So if you weren't bothered anyway, what would be the point of turning them down? It was like you were giving me permission, so long as I was discreet. I swear to God”—Joel raked his fingers through his hair—“I thought you
didn't mind
.”

“Well, guess what?” said Evie. “I did. I really did.”

“I know that now.” He paused. “I wouldn't do it again.
Ever
.”

“I'm taking my things.”

“You don't have to.”

“I'm going to.” Did he seriously imagine she'd forgive him on the spot?

“Mum and Dad would be so pleased if we got back together, you know how much they love you.”

“They love me whether we're together or not. I'm starting back at work tomorrow.”

“You are? That's great.” He gave her a poor-me look. “You can't imagine the hard time they've been giving me since the wedding.”

“I can imagine. They've told me.”

“And where are you staying?”

“With Lara.”

“The one you disappeared with? The one who went out with Flynn years ago? I thought she lived somewhere up north.”

You see, this was Joel all over. She'd told him before the wedding that Lara was going to be moving back to Bath, but it hadn't filtered through. Basically, the information hadn't been interesting enough for him to pay attention.

“She did. Now she's back.” Evie didn't add, “With Flynn's daughter.” It was up to Flynn to make that item of news public.

“And this Lara, she's single? I don't want her being a bad influence on you, taking you out on the town…” Joel was actually looking worried now.

“It's not a matter of what you want.” It gave her a thrill to say it. Evie shook her head, relishing the sensation of being in control.

“We aren't together anymore. I can go out and do whatever I like.”

“You won't though, will you?” He searched her face, surveying her intently. “You're not the type.”

“Then again, you wouldn't have thought I was the type to call off the wedding.”

“True.” He smiled sadly, his gaze locked on her face. “God, Evie, you've turned me into a laughingstock. I should really hate you for that. But I don't. I just can't make myself do it.”

“Maybe because you know you deserve it. Anyway, we don't have to hate each other. Seeing as I'm working for your parents, it's better if we don't.”

There was silence for a couple of seconds, then Joel nodded. “You're right. Again. Come here.” He took a step toward her, opening his arms and using the tone of voice she knew well. It was his “hey-I've-been-naughty-but-I've-said-I'm-sorry-and-now-it's-time-for-you-to-forgive-me” voice.

And it would have been so easy—and so lovely—to just relax and let it happen. Not doing it felt like forcing a cranky old gearbox into reverse.

“No thanks. I just want to collect my things and go.”

Joel's hands fell to his sides. He said with admiration, “You're amazing. I deserved that. But we can be friends, can't we?”

“I don't see why not.”

“And don't forget, I still love you. More than ever now.”

“Just friends is enough.” Evie was being outwardly brave, but inside she was in turmoil.

“It's not enough for me. But it'll do for a start.” Joel conceded the point with one of his winning, heart-melting smiles. “Just so you know, though, I'm going to do everything I can to win you back.”

***

On his way back from a meeting with a major client in Kelston, Flynn encountered a backlog of traffic that had ground to a standstill on Newbridge Hill. Switching on the radio, he learned that there had been an accident on Windsor Bridge Road and central Bath was in a state of gridlock.

Luckily, it had been his last appointment of the day. On the down side, he wasn't going to get home any time soon. Instead, diverting to the left, he made his way to Victoria Park.

It was six o'clock in the evening, still sunny and warm. Families were queuing at the ice-cream van as Flynn left the car and made his way past them into the park. After last night he should be dropping with exhaustion but, if he were back at the flat now, he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep. All day, this morning's furious argument with Lara had been replaying itself on a loop in his head.

It was a situation that clearly needed to be sorted out. And he may as well do it here, in the park they'd spent so much time in as teenagers.

Hands in pockets, he followed the path leading toward the wooden bridge over the pond. This was where he and Lara had liked to come and watch the ducks.

Lara, Lara. God, the last couple of days had been utterly surreal. This morning he had said some things he probably shouldn't have said. And so had she. Their emotions had got the better of them and they had got carried away. Which hadn't been ideal, and he was regretting it now. It was like happy families being visited by tragedy; when a child died, instead of clinging together and supporting each other, the parents found themselves grieving alone, taking their anger out on each other, and eventually breaking up. It was a statistical probability, he knew that.

But this was the opposite scenario. Lara was back and he had
gained
a daughter, which was unbelievably amazing. He was a father. And Gigi was amazing too. This was no tragedy; it was a good-news story. Pretty much the best news possible.

And yes, Lara had been wrong to deprive him of his daughter for the last eighteen years, but she hadn't done it to punish him, he knew that. She'd thought she was making a sensible decision. It hadn't been a malicious one.

He could appreciate that now. Resting his forearms on the bridge's wooden balustrade, Flynn gazed down at the water. Sunlight bounced off the ripples created by a surge of activity from the ducks as an overexcited small boy hurled an entire loaf's worth of bread slices into the water, all in one go.

He'd missed out on all those precious duck-feeding years with Gigi.

“Oh, Darren, you big
wally
,” wailed the small boy's older sister. “You're supposed to do them one at a time!”

“Ow!” Darren howled, as she gave him a shove and knocked him over. Grabbing a handful of stones, he flung them at his sister, who let out a scream when one of them hit her in the face.

“OK, you two, that's enough.” Their exasperated mother dragged them apart. “If you can't be nice, we're going home.”

“I want to go home! He's used up all the bread and now there's none left for me! Darren, you are a PIG!” bellowed his sister.

Flynn watched them leave. Maybe duck-feeding wasn't always as idyllic as it was cracked up to be.

Anyway, he and Lara had hopefully got the worst of the anger out of their systems now, for two reasons. Because, as Gigi's parents, it was going to help if they were on speaking terms.

As for the second reason… well, it was pretty simple. Lara was back in Bath, back in his life. And seeing her again had only proved what he'd always suspected.

He'd never got over her. Nor had anyone else ever managed to match up. Crazy though it sounded, she appeared to have been the love of his life. God knows, he'd tried to replace her and, over the years, there'd been plenty of willing candidates, but the chemistry that had bound them together had never been equaled. When Lara had looked at him with those thickly lashed, gunmetal silver eyes, she just
knew
him, and vice versa. They had shared something he couldn't even begin to explain.