Come Back to Me (18 page)

Mark had been silent for most of the drive so far. Chloe watched him as he concentrated on the road, and sighed inwardly. She couldn't help but think that he was making it worse, for himself most of all. She was desperate to ease the atmosphere.

‘Mark, last weekend …'

‘I don't want to talk about it,' he snapped.

‘But –'

‘Chloe, DON'T.' She almost jumped in her seat. ‘What makes you think I want to relive any part of it?'

‘But it wasn't that bad,' she said meekly. ‘It was only –'

‘Bloody hell, Chloe!' Mark roared. ‘Just leave it, will you.'

‘Okay, okay,' Chloe capitulated. Then added snippily, ‘Just stop sulking then.'

But Mark didn't respond to this, and the silence continued to pollute the car.

By the time they arrived, Chloe didn't know whether to fume or get upset. She was regretting inviting Mark now, seeing as he barely seemed able to hold a conversation with her.

As they pulled into the driveway her mother came rushing out to the car. ‘My darling, it's so great to see you. You look so well. Have you put on a bit of weight? It suits you. And you must be Mark. Lovely to meet you. Another lawyer, eh? How exciting. Come on, then, everyone's inside …' And she headed off still talking over her shoulder. At that moment Chloe was very grateful for the distraction of her mother's effusive greetings, and they both followed her inside.

By the time Mark had been introduced to Chloe's aunt and uncle from the Lakes, her aunt and uncle from Ireland, her brother Anthony, her stepfather Charlie, her seven cousins, and their various young offspring, as well as Great Uncle Bill in the corner and a number of family friends, the party was in full swing. Mark immediately got talking to some of the men, and Chloe was distracted by her cousins, particularly Mikaela, who was showing off her new navel piercing and hinting in far too loud a voice that she'd had something else pierced as well, but she'd better not get THAT out or her mother would have a fit.

‘Is it your nipple?' Tom, the fourteen-year-old Irish cousin, yelled.

‘That would be telling, and you're too young,' Mikaela replied, to which Tom squirmed and blushed but looked excited.

‘You're disgusting, Mikaela,' said Danielle, Tom's nineteen-year-old sister, but she still looked intrigued.

Mikaela just smiled at them. ‘Come on, Chlo, let's leave these kids to it,' she said, ushering Chloe over to the food table.

‘So are you having them on?' Chloe asked, loading her plate and taking a bite of a chicken wing.

‘No,' Mikaela said, heading straight for the desserts at the other end of the table, ‘it's my … you know.' She indicated downwards with her eyes.

Chloe choked and spat a disgusting blob of half-chewed chicken out onto her plate. ‘Oh my god. Why would you do that?'

Mikaela laughed. ‘It's pretty good actually. You only have to move and it sets things off. You should try it.'

‘Bloody hell, no thanks. I can't believe you let someone do that to you.'

‘Well now, I must admit that bit wasn't so fun.'

‘What wasn't so fun?'

Chloe turned to see Mark standing behind them. She felt herself blushing and couldn't think of what to say. However, Mikaela, while spooning jelly onto her plate, said, ‘I've had my labia pierced. I was just telling Chloe about it.'

Chloe was unsurprised to see that Mark reddened at this. ‘I see,' was all he said, then stood there seeming lost for words. Mikaela turned around, looked at both of them, laughed and said, ‘My god, you two are hilarious,' then sauntered off, doing a little shudder as though an electric pulse had run through her as she disappeared, which her cousin was sure was solely for effect.

Chloe was uncertain what to say next. ‘Do you want some food?' she asked, gesturing at the plates.

‘No, I'm okay. Look, Chloe, do you mind if … if I head off?'

Chloe laughed. ‘Head off where? We're in the middle of nowhere.'

‘Back to London.'

She stopped laughing. ‘You're not serious. We've only been here a few hours. It took us five bloody hours to get here!'

‘It's just I've got a lot of work on, and I need to get through it before Christmas.'

‘I see.'

‘Sorry.'

‘No, don't be … Okay, well, I suppose I can get a lift back with Iris. I'll walk you to your car.'

They made their way out to the front of the house in silence. As Mark opened the driver's door, Chloe said, ‘Mark?'

He turned and looked at her.

‘Us … this … is it … are we … ?' She didn't seem to be able to add the final word.

‘No … I don't know … Look, right now I just need to get a bit of space, get my act together, you know. But I'll see you on Monday.'

‘Oh, okay. Right.' She stood with her arms folded, and watched Mark get into the car, start the engine and drive away, all without looking at her.

Once he had gone she turned to walk back towards the party, but then sank down on the front step of the house and dissolved into tears. As she sat there she felt a pair of comforting arms around her, and heard Mikaela's voice whispering in her ear.

‘They're all idiots, babe, every single one of them.'

The flight was proving unendurable. Alex was caught up in a revolving succession of emotions – feeling fractious, irritated, enraged and upset by turn, leaving him unable to sleep, to eat, or to numb his mind with any of the entertainment on offer.

In the past twenty-four hours his anger had been cataclysmic, without an outlet of any kind, so much so that he wouldn't have been surprised if he had worked himself up into spontaneous combustion.

He had been trying to do the right thing all bloody week. How had he got it so horribly wrong that she had wanted him to leave? And who did Ray think he was, treating Alex like some distant relative who had no place with them through all this, discarding his efforts, hogging Amy's care, not even allowing Tess in. And Tess, so compliant, so understanding, so selfless and giving in the wake of everyone else's struggle
to cope with the fallout from this horrendous, vile event. And the doctors, deferring to Ray and Tess as soon as they arrived, when they had been filling
him
in for the first thirty-six hours, treating
him
as someone important, then simply ignoring him. And Detective Thompson, with his platitudes and his excuses for having absolutely no leads whatsoever. Alex hated the lot of them, although not with half as much vehemence as he'd reserved for Amy's attackers.

He shifted miserably in his seat, aware of the space next to him – Amy's space. They should have been coming back together today, excited about the next chapter. Now what was there to look forward to?

And yet … within the restlessness that pushed and poked at him, causing him to be unable to sit still, let alone sleep, there was something else nagging at him, worrying away like a dog with a bone, trying to break free. He wanted to ignore it, to remain stubbornly livid, but it was too persistent. It came at him again and again through the interminable hours as he sat and stared blankly at the small screen above his head.

A short time before he arrived at Heathrow, he finally couldn't take it any more. He let the realisation descend on him. There was a distinct possibility that Amy had never wanted him to leave at all, that she had given him a get-out; she had made it easier for him to do what, secretly, he'd been wanting to do all along, ever since the moment he knew she'd been hurt. And, without comprehending what he was doing, he had taken the chance, and run away, without even thinking of what this meant for them long term. He had deserted her, and now all he wanted to do was to take it all
back, to start again, and just to be there for her whether he got it right or wrong.

But he had an awful, gnawing feeling that ate away at him as the plane began to descend. It was the understanding that now he couldn't go back. It was too late.

Mark's heart was heavy as he headed back towards London through the drizzling gloom, peering hard through the windscreen at endless tail-lights, trying not to let tiredness overtake him too much.

Chloe didn't deserve this. Whenever he thought of her he recalled her woebegone face of just a few hours ago. She'd been trying hard to talk to him all week, and he had been avoiding her, as he didn't want to come right out with it.

Because Henry's words had not stopped booming in his ears.

He had made his way home from Chloe's the previous Sunday with a heavy heart, to a cataclysm of repercussions before he even had a chance to get changed out of his tux. Henry had collared him the moment he walked in the door, and then ranted and raved about his behaviour, shouting so
loud that Mark's mother had taken the dog on a long walk just to get away from them.

‘You will never be a great lawyer if you can behave like that …'

‘You have disgraced yourself, and the firm …'

‘You have made a laughing stock of me …'

‘You need to pull your socks up quick smart, my boy, or you'll be out on your ear.'

At first Mark said, ‘It was one silly lapse in judgement, Dad, not the end of the world. Just one drink too many.' But his father had continued.

‘Your work has been going downhill lately …'

‘Everyone has noticed. I've had to excuse you …'

‘You can't keep up …'

‘This isn't what we took you on for. Everyone has expectations of you …'

And then:

‘Ever since you and Chloe began this little
affair
…'

‘What?' Mark was appalled. ‘I barely see Chloe at work, and she hardly forced the drink down me last night. It was my error.' A brief image of Risto and Chloe dancing flashed before him and he grimaced.

‘I've seen you,' Henry shouted. ‘Eating together in the office, always at each other's door. It's a distraction. It's leading you down the wrong path.'

Mark was floundering in the unremitting torrent of antagonism coming from his father. ‘That's ridiculous, Dad,' he said without really thinking.

‘How dare you,' Henry had replied, further incensed. ‘Let me tell you, Mark, you need to choose – Chloe or your
career. You're young, only just starting – there's plenty of time for all that later. If you let yourself get distracted now, you'll never make the top grade, never have a chance of going for the big jobs, never fulfil your potential – and all because of some little romance that probably won't even last the distance.'

Mark couldn't help himself. He began to listen. And Henry pressed on, with points about how it was best for both of them, Chloe too, as they could always pick things up later if they still felt the same. How Chloe didn't seem that serious anyway – just look at the way she'd flirted with Risto last night, without even a care for Mark. How Chloe wasn't right for Mark; he needed a stronger, less emotional woman. How Chloe's work was suffering – the partners were voicing concerns – if she didn't knuckle down, there might be serious repercussions for her too.

‘Finish it now,' he urged. ‘Before either of you gets too involved.'

We're already too involved, Mark had wanted to say at first, thinking of Chloe's sweet sleeping form of just a few hours before. But the image had wavered in the face of his father's onslaught, and by the time Henry had finished making his case, Mark had been utterly swayed. Only much later, too much later, would he look back at it as a supreme display of persuasive talent from the most wily of legal minds.

Amy was discharged from the hospital the day after Alex had stormed out of her room. He hadn't come back.

He will come back, she thought, as the nurses helped her dress, manoeuvring her aching limbs into her clothes; as they put her things together; as her dad hefted her backpack over his shoulder, and her mum linked arms with her; as they thanked the medical staff and headed slowly towards the exit. She looked around for him in the car park, at the sides of the road as the taxi journeyed along, in the cavernous airport check-in area, before the milling people made her feel faint and she had to sit down. But it seemed he had abandoned her. And by the time the plane lifted into the air her upset had turned to numb dismay, and she wasn't sure if she had ever really known him at all.

Christmas had been going so well. Chloe's mother had put out the turkey and a raft of vegetables with a flourish, and the four of them had delved in.

Charlie poured them all sparkling wine.

‘Cheers,' Chloe said, lifting her glass and looking round at them.

They all echoed her, and then Anthony had given Chloe a searching look. With a sinking heart she realised what was coming, but before she could do more than give a swift shake of her head, he had continued, ‘I have an announcement to make.'

‘Oh?' Margaret spoke for them all, sounding intrigued.

‘I've put my course on hold, and I'm moving to America!' Anthony grinned.

There was silence.

Then, ‘How nice for you,' Margaret murmured, stabbing her fork into a sprout and jabbing it into her mouth.

‘What?' Anthony said, half-laughing, looking round at them all.

Charlie looked irritated, even though he had made it a rule never to get involved in disputes with Margaret's children. Life was easier that way.

Chloe kept her head down.

Margaret was not to be mollified, however, and after a pause said, ‘Anthony, do you think we don't know why you're going to America?'

‘Mum, I really regret not having a gap year, and Tommy is over there at the moment working, so it's free digs – the chance of a lifetime. I'm so lucky having a US passport, and I want to see the world while I'm young.'

‘I don't believe you,' Margaret retorted.

‘What?'

‘You're going to find your father.'

‘Well, I might make some enquiries while I'm over there. What's the harm, Mum, honestly? You've had me completely to yourself so far, you can hardly begrudge sharing a bit now.'

And then, to everyone's surprise, Charlie stood up, knocking his chair back as he did so.

‘You ungrateful little tyke,' he said. ‘Your mum had bloody good reasons for leaving that man, and you should be thanking her every day, not making her life a bloody misery –'

‘Charlie …' Margaret put out a hand to try to calm him.

‘No, Mum, it's okay,' Anthony said, glaring at Charlie. ‘I think I should leave.' And he pushed back his chair roughly,
scraping it against the floor tiles, then stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

Margaret immediately burst into tears and went into a torrent of speech, with Charlie trying to soothe her. Chloe sighed, looked at her still-full plate of delicious food, and slowly got up to find her brother.

Anthony was in his room, angrily throwing things into a bag.

‘I can't believe you,' he hissed when he saw her at the door.

‘What?!'

‘Just sitting there. Can't you have an opinion? He's your dad too.'

Chloe was incensed. ‘I do have an opinion. I agree with Mum. I TRUST Mum.'

Anthony gave a bitter laugh and shook his head. ‘Well, thanks a lot. I see that becoming a lawyer has made you able to see only one side of the story.'

‘Ant, you're behaving like a little boy.'

‘Oh, and you're so grown up, aren't you, you snooty bitch.'

‘Ant! For god's sake.'

Anthony pushed past her. ‘Don't worry, I'm leaving.' He ran down the stairs, calling out a sarcastic ‘Happy Christmas' behind him, then was out the front door. Chloe heard his car rev up and spin away down the drive a moment later.

She went downstairs to find Charlie and Margaret eating silently, Margaret's face streaked with tears. Chloe tucked mechanically into her own meal, now tepid and unappetising. She didn't know what to say to either of them, and so
the only sound to accompany their Christmas lunch was the ticking of the cuckoo clock on the wall, and the distant sounds of carols coming from Charlie's permanently playing TV in the next room.