She’d printed out the opening chapters that morning, admiring the way the jet black letters covered the page so authoritatively, each word perfect in itself; so different from her earlier manuscripts, which had been covered in sticky blobs of Tippex. And although she knew she shouldn’t, because it was unspeakably naff, she tied it up with a big pink ribbon, then added a label, writing on it with a thick fountain pen: ‘To Harry – Part One. Only fifteen years overdue – love Henty.’
Resisting the urge to kiss the parcel for good luck –nearly as naff as the ribbon – she paid the cashier and left, retrieving Thea and Lily from the magazine rack, where they were drooling over photos of boy bands, and hoicking Walter and Robin away from the sweet counter.
When she got back, Charles was already home, sitting in the kitchen in his jeans. He looked very pleased with himself.
‘What is it?’ asked Henty, intrigued.
‘I’ve decided you deserve a treat.’
‘Oh.’
‘I mean, bugger it, if you can’t spoil your wife every now and again, then what’s the point? And if you can’t really afford it, so what? It’s only money’
‘Goodness,’ said Henty.
‘We can go out and choose it tomorrow. Whatever colour you like, whatever extras – it’s a big investment so I want you to have exactly what you want.’
Henty’s eyes were shining with excitement. Charles felt hugely gratified.
‘Is it what I think it is?’ she asked.
Charles nodded.
‘It’s long overdue, but I think it’s time. We’ll go round the showrooms tomorrow.’ He beamed. ‘Like I said, whatever you want. It’s your treat. A brand new, state-of-the-art kitchen.’
Henty’s face fell.
‘Kitchen?’ she echoed. ‘I thought you meant a sports car.’
Charles looked perplexed.
‘Sports car? What on earth would be the point of that? It’s totally impractical.’
‘I kind of thought that
was
the point.’
‘I thought you wanted a new kitchen?’
‘Yes – but not for me. Not as a treat. Because we need it.’
Charles looked thoroughly crestfallen.
‘I thought you’d be pleased.’
‘Well, I suppose I am… pleased. But it’s not something I can get excited about.’
‘Forget it, then. I’m not forking out twenty grand if you’re not interested.’
He pulled open a drawer sulkily to find the corkscrew. Henty sighed.
‘Of course I’m interested. I’m sorry. I just got the wrong end of the stick, that’s all.’
She didn’t want Charles in a strop. Charles in a strop all weekend was hard work. Travis ambled in, and Henty tried to inject some enthusiasm into her voice.
‘Hey, Travis. Guess what? Charles is going to buy me a new kitchen.’
The expression on Travis’s face said it all.
*
Honor was going to spend the night at the hospital. Guy drove her back home to get her night things and the toy monkey that Ted couldn’t sleep without. He felt rather subdued. The incident had shaken him. How could he ever have forgiven himself if Ted hadn’t been all right?
He pulled up outside Honor’s house. He had to speak.
‘Honor – I’m just… so sorry. I don’t know what to say.’
She smiled at him wearily.
‘It was an accident.’
She spoke automatically. It was probably easy for her to say, now she knew Ted was all right. But what would she have said if he’d been killed? He could have been. Fifteen feet… Guy put his arms on the steering wheel and leaned his head on them for a moment, overwhelmed now it was all over.
‘Hey…’
He felt her soft breath on his cheek, her arm slide round his shoulder. He felt something wet on his cheeks, and realized they were his tears. They were being brushed away gently.
‘It’s OK,’ came the reassuring whisper, and as he turned his head and opened his eyes, their lips met. The kiss was intense, a moment of healing and forgiveness and relief that soothed both their hearts, wiping out the trauma. Shakily, they parted, and looked at each other.
‘I shouldn’t have done that,’ said Guy. ‘I’m sorry – it was just the relief…’
‘I shouldn’t either,’ said Honor, flushed with embarrassment. ‘I don’t know what I was thinking of. It must have been the shock.’ She opened the car door hastily.
‘I’ll go and get my stuff. Don’t worry –I can drive myself back to the hospital.’
‘No – you’re in no fit state to drive.’
‘I’ll be fine. Honestly. You’ve got guests to see to. I can drive myself back in the morning.’
She insisted, and Guy had to accept that perhaps she didn’t want him in the vicinity, not if he was going to pounce on her at every opportunity. Cursing his weakness, he drove off down the road, unable to believe what a complete and utter prat he’d made of himself. He should know better at his age.
Honor barely slept a wink that night at the hospital. She was on a deeply uncomfortable camp bed next to Ted’s. Apart from feeling the need to check he was all right every fifteen minutes every time she shut her eyes she remembered kissing Guy, and cringed inwardly. He must think she was absolutely sex-starved, especially when she’d admitted getting embroiled with Johnny only the day before. Even now she didn’t know what had got into her.
She fled the hospital as soon as she could on Saturday morning, once she was happy that Ted was a hundred per cent and had been discharged by the doctor. The atmosphere in there reminded her all too grimly of what might have been. She wanted to get the pair of them home, into a hot bath each, into their comfort clothes, in front of the telly.
At eleven o’clock the doorbell rang and she answered the door sheepishly, praying it wasn’t Guy, even though she was fairly sure he would steer clear of her after her
wanton behaviour. To her relief it was Marilyn, who’d come up to fetch a few things from her freezer.
‘Madeleine says you’re not to worry. She’s cheated by buying a load of stuff in from the deli in Eldenbury, and Suzanna from the Honeycote Arms has sent over some puddings. She thinks we’ll get away with it.’
‘I’m so sorry to leave you in the lurch.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous. You can’t leave Ted.’
‘Actually, he’s fine. He wants to go and play football with Walter. I’m the one that feels a bit shaky,’ admitted Honor.
‘You don’t feel as bad as Guy, I can tell you,’ said Marilyn knowingly.
‘It wasn’t his fault,’ insisted Honor.
‘I know, but you know what a lovely bloke he is. I can tell he’s gutted.’
Honor didn’t reply. She didn’t want to talk about Guy. In fact, the sooner all the events of yesterday were eradicated from her memory bank, the better. She couldn’t bear the thought of facing him again on Monday. Maybe she should resign? But perhaps that was making too much of it. No, she’d just keep her head down and keep out of his way. Keep things on a businesslike level.
‘Honor?’ Marilyn was looking at her, concerned. ‘Are you OK?’
‘Yes, I’m fine. Sorry. I didn’t get much sleep in the hospital.’
‘By the way, he sent these down for Ted. With lots of love.’
She held out a carrier bag. Honor peeped inside.
Beano
annuals. His old
Beano
annuals. For some reason this made her want to cry.
‘Say thank you to him, will you?’ she asked rather shakily.
The two of them spent the rest of the morning devouring the annuals. After lunch Honor tucked Ted up in bed for a proper nap, then fell asleep herself on the sofa. She woke two hours later to find Johnny standing in front of her. She sat up, confused for a moment, then realized that of course he was there – they’d agreed he would come over again to look after Ted.
Aren’t you going to work?’
He looked her up and down, bemused. She was still in her tartan pyjamas and slipper socks.
‘I haven’t been at work. They’ve had to manage without me.’ She sat up and stretched. ‘Ted fell out of the tree house yesterday and broke his collarbone.’
‘What?’
‘He’s fine. He’s got his arm in a sling, that’s all, and he’s got to take it easy –’
‘What do you mean, he fell out of a tree house? Where?’
‘At Eversleigh.’
‘Well, who the hell was watching him? You don’t let six-year-old boys into tree houses unsupervised.’
‘He wasn’t unsupervised. Guy was watching.’
‘What – watching him fall out?’
‘It was an accident.’
‘Why didn’t you call me?’
‘Because… ‘Honor stopped for a moment. She’d remembered thinking she should call Johnny, and realizing that he was the last person she wanted to see. And
now realized how selfish she had been. Of course she should have called him. ‘It all happened so quickly. And once I knew he was all right – there didn’t seem any point.’
‘No point?’ Johnny was shouting now, his eyes blazing with anger. ‘Jaysus, Honor. What were you thinking of? I’m his bloody father!’
Honor flashed him a warning look, but it was too late. Ted was standing in the doorway, looking backward and forward between the two of them.
‘Is it true?’ he demanded. ‘Are you really my dad?’
A deathly hush hung in the air for a moment. Honor looked at Johnny, aghast. He mouthed ‘Sorry’ to her, equally agonized, knowing that his outburst had brought the moment of reckoning. Honor gave a small, helpless shrug, mouthing back ‘What do I do?’ He gestured to indicate it was up to her. He wasn’t avoiding responsibility, merely deferring to her. Meanwhile, Ted stood uncertainly in the doorway, clutching his monkey, hopping awkwardly from one foot to the other.
Honor made a split-second decision. She couldn’t hide it from Ted any longer. To deny it would be to actively lie to him, and she’d never done that. She put out her arm; Ted scuttled over and tucked himself underneath it, instinctively knowing from the expressions on the grownups’ faces that what was coming was important.
‘Yes,’ Honor said calmly. ‘Johnny’s your daddy. And very proud of you he is too. He’s been wanting to tell you for a long time, but I asked him to wait. Because… I wanted you to get to know each other first.’
‘So – does that mean I’ve got a proper mum and dad? Like everyone else?’
‘Yes’
‘Is he going to live here with us? Are we going to be like a real family?’
There was such a look of hope and expectation in his
face, Honor felt a pang. Had he always felt as if he was missing out? How could she deny him what he obviously so badly wanted?
‘We’re… not sure yet. We’ve got a lot of important decisions to make. But the main thing is that Johnny will always be here for you from now on.’
Johnny was hovering awkwardly, wary of Ted’s reaction. The little boy was surveying him, still a little unsure. He frowned.
‘What do I call you?’
‘You can call me what you like. Johnny. Or Dad. Personally, I like Mr Potato Head.’
Ted giggled. He took a step towards Johnny, the ice broken. Johnny knelt down and put out his arms.
‘Come here, big boy. Come and give me a hug.’
Ted slipped obediently into his embrace. Johnny closed his eyes, overwhelmed by the emotion of at last being recognized. Ted seemed to sense how important this moment was, and snuggled into him. Honor turned away, choked. She knew in her heart of hearts that this was right, that Ted and Johnny should be united. But now she had to steel herself for the inevitable onslaught, the questions, the pressure. How on earth was she supposed to decide what was best for all of them? And did what was best for her come into it? She’d never resented making sacrifices for Ted before, but getting back together with Johnny might be going beyond the call of duty.
One thing was certain: life was never going to be the same.
*
Charles was feeling decidedly po-faced. After the damp squib of his offer to buy Henty a new kitchen the evening before, things had gone from bad to worse. Henty seemed rather excitable, like a skittish mare. He’d come down the stairs earlier and heard her giggling. The sound made him stop short, because he realized he hadn’t heard it for a long, long time. It had been one of the things that had made him fall in love with her, her giggle. It wasn’t silly or irritating, like it would be in some women. It was charming, infectious.
What the bloody hell was Travis doing to make her giggle like that?
Even more disconcerting, she stopped as soon as Charles came into the room. The two of them didn’t look guilty, but he definitely got the feeling that he was an intruder. He bristled. This was his house. Henty was his wife. Why should he be left feeling like a gooseberry?
She was wearing a pink T-shirt he hadn’t seen before, and a pair of black jeans that made her look… well, not thin, because Henty was curvaceous. But she’d definitely lost weight – or perhaps it was because she wasn’t wearing one of her usual baggy sweaters. She’d tied her hair up in a butterfly clip, and a few tendrils hung down either side of her new fringe, giving her a glamorous, dishevelled look. And she was wearing lipstick. She didn’t usually wear make-up unless they were going out. Charles felt a flicker of panic. Why the sudden interest in her appearance?
Travis slid off the kitchen table where he’d been perched.
‘I’m off into Eldenbury for a few beers, if you guys don’t need me tonight?’
Travis had already made himself a network of friends. He was one of those people that made new acquaintances easily: a couple of chats with the local farrier and he’d already been absorbed into his social circle. A gang of them met up every Saturday for a drinking session followed by an Indian – a high-spirited bunch, but good fun. Travis fitted in very well.
Charles didn’t miss the look of disappointment on Henty’s face.
‘Shall I run you in?’ she offered swiftly. ‘You don’t need to worry about driving then; you can get a cab back.’
‘That would be great.’
Travis swung his battered leather jacket off the back of his chair and slipped it on, then ran his fingers through his hair nonchalantly. That was the extent of his grooming and he looked gorgeous. Charles gritted his teeth. If he hadn’t lost his licence he could offer to drive Travis. Somehow he felt the less time Henty spent alone with him, the better.
‘Aren’t we going out?’ he asked Henty.
‘I hadn’t organized anything. Unless you have?’