Marshmallows for Breakfast (33 page)

“You're going away for four days,” Summer reminded, holding up the number of fingers by turning down her little finger. I smiled to myself, wondering at what age children realized it was easier to hold down the thumb instead of their little finger when doing that. “And you might not come back.”

“I'll come back,” I reassured them, dressing-gown clad, hair still scraped under my protective night scarf. “Apart from the fact I've got nowhere else to go, don't I always come back?”

“Won't you miss us?” Summer asked.

Ah, she'd dragged out the big guns. Nice, effective tactic.

“We'll miss you,” Jaxon added. He paused and looked down at the space on the floor by his right leg, nodded, then looked at me. “Garvo says he'll miss you, too.” Manipulation in stereo, excellent. I looked from one earnest face to the other. Now they were backing up their quiet assault with patient, innocent silence.

“I'll go get dressed,” I replied. I had no defense against these two hustlers.

Once I'd taken them both inside the gates, hugged them, promised I would indeed return to them and got back to the flat, I was too awake to go back to bed. I showered, got dressed and got into my car.

It was my car now. I'd bought it from Kyle for the same price as I would have bought it secondhand. It'd given him some much- needed cash, and it'd given me another sense of
home. I belonged here and I was staying. Every time I got into it, it felt different. Like it was mine now. I'd put new mats on the floor, I'd put pictures of my nieces and nephews on the dashboard, I'd hung a crystal from the rearview mirror. I'd made it my own. Will had a silver car. And it was silly, but every time I got into my car I remembered him driving me back to Sydney city center the morning after we spent the night together. I remembered him reaching out to help me clip in my seat belt, his thumb stroking over the back of my hand as he finished. It was the only time I could think about him nowadays. I'd regressed somewhat in that respect. It was probably Ashlyn's solicitor's letter that did it, but I had big fear now whenever I thought of Will's letter. I couldn't take it out and look at it; I had palpitations if I accidentally came across it when I took underwear from the drawer where I kept it. And if I thought of him too long everything else would fade away and his cry when he heard what she'd done would fill my mind. No, the only way I could safely think of Will was in the moment when I got in the car. Nothing more.

As I steered my car up the M1, I thought again of my meeting with Ashlyn last weekend. Nothing had been resolved. She'd rung the kids and said she was back in England “forever and ever and ever amen,” as Summer said, so she'd see them this weekend. She'd told Kyle that she wanted to see the kids and nothing else. No mention of him sending me in his place. No mention of solicitors. I guessed that meant that she was going down the court route. Which would unleash a whole new set of unpleasantness upon the family.

Unpleasantness. Ha!
I thought as I moved out of the fast lane. Court was going to unleash a new and previously unexperienced type of hell upon all those concerned. All their
dirty little secrets, scurried away into the smallest, remotest spaces of their lives, would become public knowledge. Would become weapons to use against each other.

The thought of this troubled me for most of the journey. What I should have been doing is worrying about how I'd lied to the kids. Despite my best intentions, the Kendra they knew was not going to be coming back.

The conference was being held at a vast country manor estate set in blankets and blankets of Yorkshire greenery. For the next two days delegates from all over the country would hear about all the latest developments in the recruitment industry, changes in employment law and how to increase profits.

I arrived early. Gravel crunched under the wheels of the car as I drew up outside the hotel. The estate had been beautifully and meticulously restored. When I'd showed Kyle the Web site he'd pointed out that wherever possible the original, sand- colored, roughly hewn bricks had been used, the original dark slates had been relaid on the roof, and most of the beams were original or wood from the same period. He'd told me to look for lots of nooks, some of which would be hollow behind because they'd once been entrances to secret passages. He'd also recommended looking down in the cellars if I could get the chance. “I don't think so,” I told him. Damp, musty, confined spaces might be for some people, but not me.

I couldn't check into my room until after two, so I gave my car keys to the concierge to park, gave my bags to reception and went for a wander. I wanted to explore the hotel before it became full of noisy, uptight delegates in their pristine suits all gagging to make everyone believe they were confident and successful.

The wide reception squelched with the footsteps of my flat driving shoes as I walked over the polished stone slabs. To the right and opposite of the dark wood desk was a dark wood staircase with ornate banisters that swept up to the first floor. Coming down the stairs were two people. A couple.

They weren't holding hands but had the air of being “together.” It was most likely their first holiday together. They'd probably spent the morning breakfasting in bed, and now were going to go for a walk to work up another appetite. I smiled at them. He was telling her a story that involved gesticulating wildly, which made her laugh at every other word. My smile widened. After living in the midst of a divorce, it was nice to see two people at the other end of the spectrum who were doing the good stuff. Dating, holidaying, making love. It did work, it was worth it.

As I continued to openly stare at the happy couple, another person appeared at the top of the staircase.

He seemed to occupy the whole space behind the couple. He seemed to fill up the entire first floor. He seemed to be capable of filling up the entire hotel with his presence.

Him. The man from every one of my nightmares.

“I like you, Kendra, I like you a lot, but it's not going to work out between us.” Tobey, my first boyfriend, the first man I'd ever kissed, was finishing with me and part of me didn't quite believe it. We'd been in love these past six months and now he was saying this.

“But you said you loved me,” I whispered, ashamed to be saying the words. I had only just turned twenty, was still in college, and he was my first, but I still noticed how he flinched at my words.

“I did. But I don't anymore.”

I wanted to ask him what had changed, what I'd done wrong, if it was because I was inexperienced and I hadn't been good enough. I was also going to say I could change. Ask him to give me another chance. But I kept my peace because the words got stuck in my throat. I had some pride. Even though my heart was breaking, maybe
because
my heart was breaking, I couldn't do it. I couldn't beg.

“Kennie,” he said quietly, “it's not you. It's not you, it's Penny. We're getting back together. I like you, but I love her.” I didn't see it coming didn't know he was still in love with his ex, didn't even know he was still in touch with her. “I'm really sorry,” he said to my shock. “I've got to go.” He left, never to return a phone call again.

I cried. I wallowed. Emotionally bruised and battered, I obsessed about Tobey Was convinced that he'd see the error of his ways, would remember why he and Penny had broken up in the first place. I found it hard to understand how someone could love you one day and then not the next day. And if they were slowly not loving you, shouldn't you have some idea, an inkling that they were pulling away from you and towards someone else? Shouldn't you know?

When, a month after we finished, I bumped into Lance, Tobey's best friend since childhood, in a bookshop in Leeds city center, I thought fate was rubbing my face in it. “He's gone but here's his friend, make polite chitchat talk with him like a good girl,” fate was saying. I turned and ran out of the shop, not wanting to let how badly I was doing get back to Tobey. Lance chased after me, got me to stop by gently touching my arm. They were very different and very similar, Tobey and Lance. Tobey was quiet and reserved until you got to know him, he had the same offbeat sense of humor as I did and he was beautiful. He had the most amazing, cocoa-brown skin and big, mahogany eyes, and lips that knew how to weaken legs with a kiss—I couldn't believe it when he'd asked me to dance in the club where we met. Lance was white, was more forthright and gregarious, even with people he didn't know. Lots of women thought he was good looking and in the time I'd been with Tobey we'd gotten on well because he always made the effort to include me in their activities. He was a natural-born socializer.

“I'm really sorry about you and Tobey,” Lance said, standing in front of me and looking uncomfortable. “If it makes any difference, I told him I thought he was mad.”

“You did?” I asked. I didn't think men said things like that to each other.

“I did. You two were so good together. He was crazy to give you up. And if it makes you feel any better, I don't see much of Tobey and Penny now. I didn't like her before and she hasn't changed.” This was what I needed to hear. My flatmates had all been fabulous about it, but to know that other people didn't like Tobey's old new woman and thought he'd made a mistake vindicated me. I wasn't a bad girlfriend, he was simply going through a period of temporary insanity and he'd come to his senses soon. Lance asked for my number, mentioned that he could arrange work experience for me on the paper he worked on if I was still interested in journalism and said he was sorry again before he had to dash off to meet his girlfriend.

When Lance called me a few days later to see how I was I thought nothing of it. We'd met so many times when I was with Tobey, we'd talked, we'd chatted, we'd become friends, so it was sweet of him to care. We even met for a drink a couple of weeks later because he was over in Leeds from Harrogate where he lived.

Every morning I'd wake up wanting to see Tobey, to talk to him, to hold him, to hear him whisper that he loved me. If I couldn't have that, a friendship with Lance would do.

We talked, went to dinner, sometimes he came out clubbing with me and my flatmates. We had fun together. About three months after the breakup with Tobey, Lance and I went for a pizza and he walked me back to my place in Burley Park and we stood on my doorstep for a while finishing our conversation. As it became clear the conversation was winding down, I got my keys out of my pocket and suddenly Lance's lips were on mine and he was pulling me towards him. I was startled. I'd only ever kissed Tobey so this was different. Our lips didn't fit together like mine and Tobey's, he put both his hands on my face instead of around my body, he smelled of aftershave, his blond hair brushed my cheek, his mouth tasted of the coffee he'd drunk earlier. I hesitated at first, then let myself go with it. Kissed him back a little but in the main just didn't resist. Eventually Lance stepped back and said, “I've wanted to do that for ages.”

I smiled a closed-mouth smile back, not sure of what to say. I hadn't wanted to do that for ages. I hadn't even thought of him in that way, so to spare us both the awkwardness of me having to say that, I said good night and escaped inside.

The next time I saw him, I went over to Harrogate for an interview for work experience on the newspaper where he was features editor. Afterwards we went for a drink and he walked me back to the train station. As we stood on the concourse I said good-bye quickly, keeping my head lowered and turned to walk away.

He pulled me back, kissed me again. This time I couldn't go with it. I liked Lance, he was a friend I didn't want to alienate, especially when I had to see him every day at the paper, but I couldn't allow this to carry on. I pressed the flat of my hand against his chest and gently yet firmly pushed him back. A physical “let's not.” Actions, after all, speak louder than words. He immediately stepped back, understanding straight away what I meant. He smiled at me a little sheepishly. Of course he understood.