Irrepressible You (31 page)

A light spring shower began pitter-pattering on the roof.

‘I had my first big ultrasound three days ago.’ Jo’s voice was unnaturally loud against the muted rain.

‘Yeah?’ Amy drew a shaky breath and added boiling water to her coffee plunger. ‘Everything okay?’

‘Yeah. Stephen was with me,’ Jo said gruffly. ‘I brought the pictures if you want to see them.’

Amy bit her lip and counted to ten. ‘Yeah,’ she said in a choked voice, still not wanting to turn around. She poured out the coffees. ‘That’d be great.’ Squeezing her eyes shut, she took another deep breath before carrying the coffees the short distance to the table, placing Jo’s in front of her.

‘So do you know who did it?’ Jo asked, playing with the handle of her cup.

‘Pardon?’

‘Your salon. D’you know who trashed it?’

Amy averted her gaze to a pile of mail she had yet to open. She ran her finger over the RSPCA logo on what would no doubt be a request for money.

‘You
do
know. Who did it? A pissed-off customer? Who, Ames?’

Amy sighed. She raised her eyes to look at her sister. ‘No. Nothing like that. It was Liam.’

Jo’s expression froze. ‘Liam?’

‘Yeah. He didn’t react too well to the news I’d reported him to the police. They must have visited him when he got home from the rigs on Saturday and—’

‘
Liam?
’ Jo’s voice rose in volume. Unlike Amy, Jo had a good voice for shouting. Amy hoped her future niece or nephew hadn’t developed little ears yet, or there was a good chance they’d just been stunned.

‘Yeah.’ Amy tried her best to keep her voice calm.

‘What
the fuck
!
Liam?
What d’you mean,
Liam
?’ Jo demanded, leaning across the table. ‘We’re talking the same Liam right? Your ex-boyfriend, my
friend
, Liam?’

‘Yeah.’ Amy’s chin came up at the disbelief in Jo’s tone.

Jo sat in stunned silence, twin flags of red riding high on her cheekbones as she processed Amy’s words. When they finally sank in, she exploded.

‘And you were going to tell me about all this when?’ She stood up abruptly, looming over Amy, her chair scraping across the floor. It toppled backwards, clattering against the wall. Jo righted it with an impatient gesture.

Amy started to defend herself and then stopped.

No. This wasn’t how it was going to go. It couldn’t work like this any more. A cool calm sensation washed over her. It wasn’t quite anger; it was something far more complicated.

‘Sit
down
, Jo,’ she said calmly and was just as shocked as Jo when her sister complied. Jo opened her mouth to speak but Amy held up a hand. ‘I need to tell you something. I’m going to talk and you’re going to listen. Alright? Some of the stuff I’m going to tell you might hurt your feelings, but you’re gonna have to deal with it.’

Jo stared at her as if she was possessed. ‘What’s this all about?’

‘There’s a bunch of stuff I should have told you about years ago . . . about Liam and what happened between us.’ Amy paused.

Jo’s mouth flattened into a grim line but she didn’t say anything, just nodded curtly for Amy to continue.

‘Liam was like Dad.’ When Jo’s features blanched, Amy had to fight the urge to stop talking right then and there, but the memory of how awful the past weeks had been kept her going. ‘I broke up with him after he hit me the first time. I didn’t tell you about it because he threatened to get you fired from your job and, more importantly, I didn’t want you to feel bad.’ She gave a dismal shrug. ‘It was silly. I know that now, but that’s how I felt. You did so much for me. I didn’t want you feeling guilty about working away and not being there.’

‘All those years ago when I blasted you for breaking up with him . . . why didn’t you say something? We didn’t talk for a year!’ Jo exclaimed in a croaky voice, her expression stricken.

‘Yeah. Well at the time–up until just recently–I thought that was better than you knowing. I didn’t want you feeling like this, feeling like it was your fault.’ Amy averted her eyes, her heart breaking at the pain mapped on her sister’s strong features.

‘So, what? So since then he’s been–you let it get bad enough that you had to go to the police?
What the fuck has he been doing?
’ Jo’s voice rose until it cracked.

Amy looked down at her hands wrapped around her coffee mug. ‘He didn’t do anything other than turn up to work. It was the last time I saw him. It was the time when you were there. I knew it couldn’t keep going on like that. He’d come in at least every month and stress me out; sometimes he’d leave notes under my door. You being there just showed me how stupid it was to let things continue. I know it was silly of me but I wanted to protect you.’

Jo made a quiet keening noise. ‘Ames—’

‘You didn’t know, so don’t go there, sweetie,’ Amy said gently.

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ Jo asked, her expression pleading, her eyes watering. ‘I would have done something. I woulda warned him off. I can’t believe you kept this to yourself.’ If anything, she looked more hurt than before. ‘Did Scott know? He always told me to back off over this. He knew, didn’t he?’

Amy nodded reluctantly. ‘Yeah. But only because he saw me after Liam—’ Her words bled into the stream of profanity Jo rained down on the kitchen.

Flinching every now and then, Amy just waited until Jo drew a breath.

‘It’s over now, Jo. I saw him last night and it’s over.’

‘
Last night?
Is this
after
he trashed your shop? Fucking hell!’

Amy abruptly stood up. ‘Enough! I’m a big girl, Jo. I dealt with it. I’m not five any more, okay?’

‘I know but—’ Jo began but Amy interrupted her.

‘And if you respect me and love me, you’ll trust me and believe me.’ Amy’s voice wobbled but she kept going. ‘And don’t you dare be angry with Scott, because he wanted me to tell you about it years ago.’

‘Too bloody right you should have,’ Jo said, but her words didn’t have the bite they had seconds before. Instead she looked defeated, her shoulders slumped, her wide mouth turned down at the edges.

‘I needed to stand up for myself this time. It took me ten years, but I did it. I don’t want you trying to see Liam. I’ve talked to him already and the police are more than likely going to take care of him. You didn’t do anything wrong.’ Amy tried to keep her voice firm, but the tears running down her cheeks probably diminished some of her authority. She didn’t care. If she couldn’t cry in front of her own sister, she might as well be dead.

‘Amy.’ Jo shook her head, eyes damp with her own tears. ‘I . . . Just give me a bit to process, alright? I can’t believe . . . How badly did he hurt you?’

‘Not as bad as Dad used to hurt you,’ Amy said softly. ‘And you always kept that a secret.’

‘But that was different.’

‘No, it wasn’t. You didn’t want me to worry about you. I didn’t want you to worry about me. Same thing, m’love.’ Amy expected Jo to object, but she kept quiet, studying Amy with large, shadowed eyes until the silence in the room became unbearable.

‘I don’t know what to say,’ Jo said eventually in a low, husky voice. ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘So am I.’ Tears fell in earnest now as Amy launched herself towards Jo, who met her halfway. ‘I don’t want us to fight like this again.’

‘Neither do I. I hate it.’ Jo pulled Amy tightly against her. ‘I wanted you there at the ultrasound but I was too bloody stubborn. I’m so sorry. I told Stephen the other day and he–he was so happy. I wanted you there too, but I didn’t know how to call or what to say. I need you. Please don’t keep shit like this from me again.’

‘I won’t, but I need you to trust me. I’m a big girl. I don’t need you trying to protect me any more. Yes?’ Amy pulled back far enough to look Jo straight in the eye.

‘Yeah.’ Jo inhaled shakily before continuing. ‘There’s something else we need to talk about before we settle this fully. I know you don’t want to, but it’s about this guy you’re going with.’

‘Ben?’ Amy abruptly pushed away from Jo’s grip. ‘I told you I didn’t want to talk about this.’

‘I know, but this is important. Please,
please
, check out what his ex-girlfriend’s written in the papers. I don’t want you hurt again.’ Jo’s voice was devoid of any of its earlier over-protective self-righteousness.

Amy felt herself soften. ‘Ben’s already told me all about it. I trust him.’

Jo grimaced. ‘Alright. At least I know I tried.’

‘You really shouldn’t have bothered.’ Amy shook her head. ‘Just leave it, okay?’

Jo bit her lip, obviously torn. ‘Alright. Still, I really wish you’d—’

‘No.’ Amy’s voice sliced through the air. ‘Leave it. And sniff your coffee.’

Jo’s mouth curved into a half-smile as she sat down. ‘Yeah, alright. I won’t bring it up again. Sorry, Ames.’

‘Apology accepted.’ Amy took her own seat, reaching across the table to put her hand over her sister’s. ‘Let’s change the topic to something much more important. Am I having a niece or a nephew?’

‘Dunno yet,’ Jo said with a genuine, tired grin. ‘I told the radiographer I didn’t want to know. Stephen wants a girl because he reckons it’d be hilarious since I’m such a tomboy, but I want a boy. What would I do with a girl?’

Amy squeezed her hand. ‘You’ll do just fine. Although . . . if the kid gets your temper, you’re in biiig trouble.’

‘You saying yours is any better?’

‘I don’t have a temper,’ Amy said primly, allowing herself to forget the previous forty-eight hours for a few seconds and simply enjoy her sister’s company. ‘Anyway, where are these ultrasound pictures you promised to show me? I want to see if my new niece is going to be as tall as her mama.’

Chapter 16

‘I’ve been following your column lately,’ Alex drawled. He’d called Ben from his dressing room post-show in New York.

‘Oh?’ Ben leaned back in his leather office chair, massaging his temples to dispel the lingering hangover from his ill-advised interlude with a bottle of scotch the night before.

‘Hmm, I couldn’t help but notice how unoriginal you are. Couldn’t find your own girl so you took mine?’

‘Don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Ben protested.

‘The blonde from the bar, remember? Or “Babyface” as you refer to her. You know you’re a real asshole, don’t you?’

‘What do you mean,
asshole
?’

‘Has she
read
any of this?’

‘What’s
this,
Alex?’ Ben scowled and sat upright in his chair.

‘What you’ve written about her. It’s not exactly flattering. I would have called you on it earlier if I hadn’t been so goddamn busy this past month,’ Alex said distractedly, voice distinctly disapproving. ‘Some of the things you’ve said were just plain nasty.’

‘What the hell are you talking about? I haven’t been nasty at all. Quite the opposite. People love her. I love her.’ Ben said the words glibly, ignoring the sharp pang in his gut as they came out.

‘Huh. That’s interesting, because if she read any of this, I doubt she’d love
you
,’ Alex retorted. ‘Where was I? What did you call her in that first one that featured me? Here it is.
A comical facsimile of a nineteen-fifties pinup who would be much more attractive if she weren’t patently trying so hard.
’ He impersonated Ben’s clipped accent, making the words sound cold and harsh.

Ben winced. ‘You’re taking that out of context.’

‘Yeah? How about what you said about your visit to her house:
Slumming in a charmingly antiquated convict-built hovel
. I’ll admit you said it was charming, but no one likes to have their house referred to as a hovel. And I haven’t even started on the one you wrote about the time you slept with her.
Babyface shares the curse of all women in that they think far too much at the most inopportune moments, often resulting in disappointment for all parties present.
Dude.’

‘I was thinking that it made great comedy if you bothered to read the rest of the piece.’ Ben did his best to ignore the memory of Amy’s hurt expression the last time he’d seen her. The words
tin pot, working-class piece of shit
had echoed over and over in his mind for the past twenty-four hours. He wished he could take them back. In fact, he intended to apologise the minute he no longer saw red when he thought about his car. If his current simmering fury was any indication, that wouldn’t be for some time.

Alex emitted a noise that conveyed the maximum amount of scepticism. ‘Yeah, the rest of the piece
is
funny if you don’t know it’s written about a real person with feelings. Remember those? I hope to hell she knows about your stage act or you’re toast, my good friend.’

Ben feigned disinterest to hide the fact Alex’s words were causing small tendrils of apprehension to worm their way through his veins. ‘You’re boring me.’

‘I’m so sorry,’ Alex said sarcastically.

‘So you should be. I think this conversation would be better served if you shut up so I can tell you how my car got wrecked. Then feel free to shower me with all the sympathy I so rightly deserve.’

‘The DB9?’

‘What else?’ Ben said dryly before commencing his tale of woe.

‘Did they catch the guy who did it?’ Alex asked after sharing Ben’s opinion that the perpetrator should be shot, revived, shot again, drawn, quartered and then fed to starving dogs for good measure.

‘No. I doubt anyone will. Amy doesn’t live in a highly vigilant area. It’s more a nesting site for retired hippies and the hipster set. To make matters worse, she has a forest of trees for a front yard, which obscures the house and anything parked in the driveway from view of the street.’

‘You’re referring to the convict hovel, right?’

‘I’d really rather you didn’t repeat that out of context.’

‘So I take it this is serious?’

‘What’s serious?’

‘This thing you’ve got going with this girl, Amy, Babyface. Because you’ve featured her, or more to the point
insulted her
, for one . . . two . . . three . . . four . . . 
five
weeks out of the last three months. That’s got to be a record. From memory, you only wrote about Marcella—’