Hidden Cottage (38 page)
‘Hey, Mads,’ he said, using the name she had recently given him the green light to use, ‘home from school already? I had no idea it was that time. Good day?’
‘Yep, it was fine. Mum said you’re to come down and that there’s something you want to talk to me about.’
He heard the anxiety in her voice and pushed his chair away from the desk, standing up. ‘Don’t look so worried.’
‘But something’s wrong, isn’t it?’ she said. ‘I know it. I always know. Like I knew there was something wrong that night.’
Jensen knew which night she was referring to and said, ‘You’re the smartest girl I know, for sure, but you don’t know everything. Let’s go downstairs. There’s a hot rumour doing the rounds that your mum’s promised us tea and scones.’
Her expression remained glum. ‘I don’t think I can eat anything, not until you’ve told me what’s wrong.’
He shook his head. ‘Nothing’s wrong.’
‘So why are you and Mum making such a big deal of it?’
‘Because it’s something important and we, as a family, that’s you, your mother and me, have to discuss it.’
‘You’re not leaving Mum, are you?’
He frowned. ‘Now why would you think that?’
‘Because it’s the one thing I don’t want to happen and sometimes when you want a thing really,
really
badly, like maybe too much, it’s taken away from you. Look what happened to . . . to Daisy.’
Since the accident it wasn’t often Madison uttered Daisy’s name, and hearing her do so now, so completely out of the blue, struck Jensen like a physical blow. His heart thudded and feeling lightheaded, as if the blood was draining from him, he steadied himself against the desk. He forced himself not to let his thoughts spiral out of control, not to give in to the panicky tightness in his chest. Breathe normally, he told himself, focus on what was important right now.
The moment passed. He went to Madison and crouching down he took her hands in his, perhaps more to reassure himself than her. She looked at him anxiously.
‘I’m sorry I said Daisy’s name,’ she said. ‘It upset you, didn’t it? I won’t do it again.’
‘It’s OK, and of course you can mention my sister’s name. Just because she’s no longer with us, it doesn’t mean we can’t talk about her.’
‘But you see what I mean, don’t you, about bad things happening and spoiling everything.’
‘I don’t have any real answers for you, Mads, other than to say that accidents happen; sometimes there’s an explanation for why they do and sometimes there isn’t. But we mustn’t live in fear. We have to let ourselves believe in the good things.’
She released her hands from his and hugged him. He hugged her back. Then: ‘Come on, you lead the way downstairs.’
In the kitchen, Tattie was waiting for them, the table set with plates, pots of jam and cream. They all sat down in their usual places and with a foot bouncing against the leg of her chair, Madison said, ‘Can you just get this over with, please?’
Tattie looked at Jensen and he nodded. She said, ‘Madison, JC has something to ask you. He’s already asked me but I said that it’s not just me who can answer the question – you have to as well.’
Her foot still bouncing against the chair leg, Madison looked at Jensen. ‘Ask me, then. And if it’s do I want to go back to London, the answer is no.’
‘London doesn’t come into it,’ he said.
‘What does then?’
He cleared his throat. ‘The thing is, I’ve asked your mother to marry me and she says I have to ask your permission.’
Madison’s eyes widened. ‘My permission? You mean . . . you mean—’
Both Tattie and Jensen smiled at her.
‘We mean that we can’t make the decision to get married unless you’re absolutely happy with the idea,’ Tattie said.
The corners of Madison’s mouth lifted and she began to smile. Then the smile got bigger and bigger. ‘OMG, that is just so
way
the coolest thing!’
Tattie tapped her wrist and looked stern. ‘Speak English, Madison, not this nonsense language of the verbally challenged.’
Madison sniggered and then burst out laughing.
So did Tattie and Jensen.
‘Well,’ Tattie said when the laughter had died down, ‘do we have your permission? And think about your answer; it’s very important.’
Madison’s answer was to let out a whoop, followed by ‘
Whoopididdledeedo!
’ She then jumped out of her seat and with her hands in the air, she spun round on the spot. ‘
Whoopididdledeedo!
’ she yelled again. Coming to a stop, she hugged her mother. ‘I think it’s the best idea ever, ever,
ever
in the history of best ideas.’ She then came round the table to Jensen and hugged him carefully. It was some time since he’d had the cast removed from his arm, but she continued to be ultra-cautious around him. ‘Does that mean you’ll be my proper dad now?’ she asked.
Jensen looked again at Tattie. Getting the go-ahead nod from her, he said, ‘Looks like you’re well and truly stuck with me, kiddo.’
‘Yay!’
Eliza was late. Not an unusual occurrence, even for a Friday, but this Friday evening was supposed to be different; this particular evening she was supposed to finish work early and be on time.
But as ever, she’d lost track of time in the office and it had only been when she’d heard the sound of a vacuum cleaner approaching that she’d looked about her and seen that the place was deserted. She’d thought of texting to say she was running late, but had decided it would only make her later still.
Taking the lift down, she said goodnight to Malcolm, the building’s longest-serving security guard, and like a greyhound released from its trap, she sped off up Shaftesbury Avenue. Infuriatingly no one else shared her urgency – rather they seemed to be deliberately slowing her down by getting in her way. Her frustration escalating, she felt like ramming them with her laptop bag to make them get out of her way. Pavement rage. She’d be the first to go to prison for it!
She checked her watch and wished she hadn’t. She was now forty-five minutes late. Her only consolation was that Simon knew her so well he would wait for her. But today of all days she hadn’t wanted to be late for him. It was the least she could do when he’d been such a good friend to her these last few awful months.
The death of her sister had shocked Eliza massively. It was the senseless waste of such a young life that got to her, that and the cruel randomness of it. She was constantly fighting the anger within her that questioned why any of them should bother to strive for happiness when it could be snatched away so brutally. Simon’s answer to this was, ‘But, Eliza, what’s the alternative? Isn’t it better to have experienced a moment of happiness than none at all?’
Eliza wondered if poor Scott would agree. At the funeral he’d been in a terrible state, had wept when he’d told Mum that he would always blame himself for ringing Daisy when he did. Mum had merely nodded and murmured vague words of reassurance. But Eliza knew that Dad held Scott responsible and that he had even said he hoped Scott never stopped feeling guilty for what he’d done. It was a wicked thing to say and God only knew how Scott would get over the accident. Eliza genuinely hoped that in time he did, if only because, as Jensen had said, surely that’s what Daisy would have wanted. Sadly it was inevitable that now Scott was living back in Australia they would probably never see him again. Understandably he would want to try and erase from his memory his brief but devastating association with the family.
Forced to stop behind a group of people who were taking up most of the pavement while they consulted a map, Eliza realized that she was now level with the restaurant where she was meeting Simon. She looked through the window at the busy bar area to see if he was there. There was always the chance he was late himself. She was just thinking that he would have texted to let her know if he’d been delayed, when she caught her breath.
She moved closer to the window to get a better look, not quite believing what she was seeing. Transfixed, she watched the way he stroked the girl’s bare arm, the back of his hand lightly brushing against her skin. It was exactly how he used to touch her. And the girl was gazing at him just as she had once stared adoringly into his face. The only difference in the situation was that he was doing this out in public for all to see, not sneakily behind closed doors as he had with her. He was leaning in now for a kiss.
Someone bumped Eliza from behind and it had the effect of instantly galvanizing her. Pushing open the door, she went inside. She marched straight up to him and tapped him on the shoulder.
‘Hello, Greg, long time no see.’ The stupefied expression on his face was priceless. ‘How’s your lovely wife and your gorgeous little boy?’ she asked. ‘Oh, silly me, I can’t remember whether your second child was a girl or a boy, but then that was probably because you never told me you were
married
and had a
family
.’
Relishing the effect she was having on him – rendering him speechless – and with adrenaline pumping through her, she turned to his pretty companion whose mouth was open in a cartoon-like oval of disbelief. ‘Here’s my top tip for the night,’ Eliza said to her. ‘This pathetic excuse of a man,’ she prodded Greg’s shoulder with a finger, ‘is about as real as a politician’s promise, so have nothing more to do with him. Take it from me; he’s a serial adulterer who will tell you he loves you. Actually, he’ll tell you anything you want to hear, and then he’ll go home to his wife and children and tell them a pack of lies as well. And I should know, because not so long ago I was stupid enough to be taken in by him. Yeah, I know, I don’t look that dumb, do I? But it just goes to show, appearances can be oh so deceiving.’
It was then that she noticed Simon sitting at the other end of the bar and that he was watching her with interest. Had he not been there, she might have been tempted to pick up Greg’s glass of red wine and tip it over his head. But that would be overly melodramatic and she didn’t want to cause an unpleasant scene for Simon.
Instead she turned back to Greg. ‘See that guy over there,’ she said, indicating Simon, ‘now that’s a decent man. That’s a man who’s kind, honest and genuine. You’re not fit to be in the same room as him.’ Her voice dripping with loathing, she then turned away in a final show of disgust.
‘What was all that about?’ Simon said, when she joined him and he stood up to kiss her on the cheek. This was a new feature to their friendship. Now they no longer worked together, things had changed subtly between them.
She took a deep breath as she sat on the stool beside Simon, the rush of adrenaline having now subsided, leaving her breathless and with a racing heart. ‘That,’ she said with great emphasis, ‘was Greg.’
‘Was it indeed? And the girl – is she his wife?’
With her back resolutely set to Greg, Eliza said, ‘No. Another fool like me.’
An eyebrow raised, Simon said, ‘Not any more by the looks of things; she’s on her feet and – uh-oh, turn round quick, you’ll like this.’
Eliza did as he said, just in time to witness Greg’s companion doing what she had decided not to. The noisy swell of the packed bar momentarily quietened as all eyes took in the scene. The same eyes then followed the girl’s rapid departure, then Greg’s, his shirt and trousers stained dark red. He looked like he’d been shot in the chest.
‘I call that a job well done,’ Simon said when the entertainment was over and the hush was replaced with the hum and buzz of people resuming their conversations.
‘Thank you,’ Eliza said. And then: ‘Sorry I’m late.’
Simon attracted the attention of one of the barmen. ‘Being as predictable as you are, I factored in the extra wait time.’
She groaned. ‘I knew you’d do that. I’m sorry though, really.’
‘Stop grovelling, Channing, it doesn’t suit you. Now what would you like to drink? And when we’ve ordered, you can tell me exactly what you said to Greg. It obviously had the desired effect. And I’ve gotta say, he looked a bit of a jerk to me. No . . .’ he lifted a hand ‘sorry – guilty of putting the guy down – he’s clearly worked at the whole jerk thing and, fair play to him, he’s pulled it off totally.’
Eliza sniggered, suddenly feeling a wave of giddy exhilaration. What she’d just done felt hugely significant.
Their drinks ordered, she gave a word-for-word account of what she’d said.
‘And how do you feel?’ Simon asked.
She let out her breath. ‘I’m OK.’
‘Really?’
‘Momentously OK. I can honestly say he’s history now.’ And she meant it. She felt sorry for his wife, but seeing Greg with another girl could not have been a more fitting way to bring about the definitive closure she needed. Not that she had given Greg much thought these last few months. Losing her sister had seen to that. It had given her a fresh perspective on her self-pity. It had made her realize how pathetic she had been to waste so much energy on feeling sorry for herself.
There were so many memories Eliza had of her sister, but recently one in particular kept coming back to her. It was the day after Jensen’s birthday when Daisy had said that Eliza had got herself fast-tracked to adulthood at far too young an age. It had always been too easy to dismiss poor Daisy as not having a real grasp on what was going on around her, but really she’d been far more emotionally astute than Eliza.
A great wave of sadness engulfed her at the thought of never seeing her sister again, of never being able to tell her that she’d been right and that Eliza was now determined to change things. She didn’t know how exactly, not yet, but she would.
Their drinks arrived with a tray of nuts and olives and, toasting Simon, Eliza said, ‘Happy birthday.’
They each took a long sip of their drinks and settled properly into the evening.
‘So how’re things back at home?’ Simon asked. ‘Your mum any better?’
‘It’s hard to say. She’s just sort of shut down. Dad’s even worse. He’s still sleeping in Daisy’s old room. There’s no talking to him.’
‘I guess that was to be expected with how he felt about your sister.’
‘I know, but it’s the extent of it that worries me. Sometimes when he looks at Jensen or me, I swear I can see him wondering why it couldn’t have been one of us who died.’