The Longest Holiday (32 page)

‘I love you, LL,’ he says into my ear.

The anxiety returns and I smile awkwardly at him as I pull away. He can’t help but look dejected as we wander back to my mum and Marty. They smile warmly at us, unaware the mood has taken a downturn.

‘You look like such a lovely couple,’ Mum says, putting her foot right in it, as usual. Marty notices something is up, though, and she comes to my rescue.

‘My turn!’ she shouts, dragging me back onto the dance floor. I’m relieved to know that she’s still got my back, even after everything that’s happened.

There’s a knock on my door the next morning.

‘Come in.’

The door opens to reveal Matthew.

‘Oh, hi,’ I say. ‘I thought you must be Mum.’

‘No, it’s me,’ he replies with a smile. ‘How are you feeling?’

‘Not too bad, actually, considering all the champagne I drank.’

‘You want some ibuprofen?’ he offers.

‘No, I’m okay. How about you?’ I notice he’s dressed. ‘You up already?’

‘I’m going to head off shortly.’ He’s taking the car back so I can get the train to work first thing tomorrow.

‘Really? So soon?’ I feel oddly disappointed.

‘I wondered if you wanted to come into Cambridge with me to get some brunch?’ he offers.

‘Um. Yeah, sure.’ I sit up in bed. ‘Give me twenty minutes.’

‘Okay. I’ll drive.’

We go to Côte on Bridge Street. It’s a bright, sunny morning but with a distinct chill in the air, so I borrowed Mum’s black trench coat to wear over my jeans and jumper. We sit at a table by the window and watch people on bicycles whizz past. Matthew orders a full English breakfast, while I go for French toast.

‘Good time last night,’ he says, his brilliant blue eyes piercing in the morning sunlight.

‘It was fun,’ I agree. ‘Jeffrey getting stuck in the mud at midnight …’ I start to laugh. ‘Your hands were covered in muck! Do you remember?’

‘Of course I do.’ He laughs, too. ‘I wasn’t that drunk.’

Dad’s friend Jeffrey got his car bogged down. Matthew had to help push him out.

‘You poor thing.’ I smile. ‘How does your suit look this morning?’

‘It’s a mess. It looks like I’ve been playing in the pig pen.’

‘We don’t have any pigs.’

‘It was a funny night,’ he says.

‘Dad enjoyed himself.’

‘Do you think so?’ he asks.

‘Oh, definitely. All that attention? He was right in his element.’

Matthew smiles. ‘I like your parents.’

‘They like you, too.’

‘I’ve always known how lucky I am to have them.’

That comment rids me of my giggles. We fall into an uncomfortable silence, before both speaking at the same time:

‘Matthew …’

‘Laura …’

We flash each other awkward smiles, but I speak first. ‘I’m sorry. It was a nice night, but nothing’s changed.’

‘Come on,’ he pleads, reaching across the table to take my hand.

I shake my head, wanting to extricate myself, but trying to resist because I feel too mean.

The waitress delivers our food and thankfully he lets go of my hand. We start to eat, but the interruption has done nothing to alleviate the tension.

‘Have you spoken to him?’ he asks me after a while, his features hardening.

‘No.’

‘Why not?’

‘I can’t get hold of him,’ I admit.

He stares at me for a long few seconds.

‘Maybe he’s lost his phone or something,’ I mutter.

‘What if that’s not it?’ he presses, sawing into his bacon like a man possessed. ‘Excuse me for chucking in my two cents’ worth, but he didn’t look like the sort to go in for long-term relationships.’

‘How can you say that?’ I ask. ‘You barely even spoke to him!’

‘I know his type.’

‘No, you don’t!’

He doesn’t answer, but his expression is soured. We finish the rest of our meal in silence. I cradle my coffee in my hands and look over my shoulder out of the window. The waitress returns to clear our plates.

‘Can we have the bill, please?’ I ask her.

‘Laura,’ Matthew says hesitantly when she leaves again. I regard him uneasily. ‘Do you have any idea how hard it has been for me to keep working at this?’

‘At what? At our relationship?’

‘Yes,’ he says firmly.

‘I’m not asking you to—’

‘Just answer my question,’ he cuts me off. ‘Do you appreciate how hard this has been?’

I take in the tautness of his features. ‘I imagine it has been very hard, yes,’ I say gently.

‘Very hard is an understatement.’

I swallow.

‘You’ve been shagging another man!’ he exclaims quietly under his breath.

‘Matthew, please.’ My eyes dart around the restaurant, but I don’t think anyone in the vicinity is listening in.

‘We are still married,’ he adds in a fraught tone.

‘I know.’ I shift in my seat, then calmly say, ‘But that’s a technicality.’

‘How can you say that?’

I know he’s trying to keep his temper under control. Now is not the time or the place to let it all fly.

‘I would never have cheated on you under any other circumstances,’ I say in a low, strong voice. ‘When Leo and I first …’ I don’t elaborate. ‘You and I were over, in my mind.’

Matthew just stares at me.

‘We were,’ I say awkwardly.

Neither of us speaks for a good few seconds, then he says, ‘Do you know your mum talked to me, hoping to convince me to give you another chance?’

A bad feeling washes over me, to add to the already unpleasant emotions I’m experiencing.

‘No, I didn’t know that.’

‘Well, she did. She practically begged me not to give up on you, to forgive you for this … fling,’ he spits. ‘I didn’t think I could do that, but she convinced me you were worth fighting for. ’

‘I don’t know what to say …’

‘Tell me you’re worth fighting for!’

The couple at the table next to us halt in their conversation.

He continues. ‘I keep trying to tell myself that it’s not over between us, but you’re not giving me anything here.’

‘I think it is over between us,’ I say, putting my cup down on the table.

‘I thought—’ He breaks off and looks away, his eyes suddenly filling with tears, then he looks back at me. ‘You came home. I thought maybe we had a chance. And you came with me to see Evan … Before all this, before I screwed it all up, we were good together. Weren’t we?’

‘Yes, we were.’ I nod, overcome with misery at the situation. ‘But I can’t do this anymore.’

‘Don’t say that.’

‘It’s the truth.’ I meet his gaze full on. ‘I need to ask you for a divorce.’

‘No.’ He shakes his head quickly. ‘No. I don’t believe you’re incapable of forgiveness. You’re a good person. You’re not that evil.’

‘I am capable of forgiveness,’ I say quietly.

‘You’re just not capable of forgiving me.’

I stay silent for a long moment as this sinks in. ‘Matthew, why did you do it?’ I ask finally. ‘I mean, I know you said you were drunk and it just sort of happened, but that can’t be all of it, surely? Did I do something wrong? Was I not enough?’

‘Oh, LL,’ he says sadly. ‘Of course you were enough.’

‘But clearly I wasn’t.’ I try not to sound bitter because I just want the truth.

He stares past me, out of the window. ‘I don’t know, that night …’

‘Did you freak out?’ I press. ‘About marrying me?’

He thinks for a while, still looking past me. ‘That would be the simplest answer,’ he replies. ‘But that’s not it.’

‘What is it, then?’

He sighs and shrugs. ‘I know this is bad, but I liked the attention.’

I stare at him.

‘She was …’ He frowns, trying to explain it in a way that will hurt me least, I think. ‘We were flirting. It felt nice to flirt. I didn’t want anything to come of it. Honestly,’ he adds strongly. ‘But I kept on drinking, we kept on dancing, and suddenly we were kissing. I don’t even know how that happened. I wasn’t being rational, I wasn’t thinking at all. It just felt …’

‘Good,’ I finish his sentence for him.

‘Yeah.’ He looks embarrassed. ‘We were by the loos and it might have been her, it might have been me, it might have been both of us thinking and acting at the same time, I seriously can’t remember, but somehow we ended up in a cubicle and things got out of hand.’

I feel sick, but I asked him to be honest.

‘I’m so sorry for hurting you. For all of this.’

‘Don’t be sorry for Evan.’

He looks helpless.

‘It’s not true, what you said,’ I say softly. He gives me a confused look. ‘I am capable of forgiving you.’ And then something changes in me. Slowly but surely, the weight begins to lift from my shoulders. ‘I do forgive you,’ I say. ‘I forgive you,’ I repeat, surprising even myself at this revelation.

Hope lights up his face as he reaches across to take my hand. In his eyes I’ve finally turned a corner.

‘But it’s too late,’ I continue, putting my hands underneath the table.

‘It’s not too late,’ he says quickly.

‘It is,’ I say simply. I know these next words will really upset him, but I have to be honest. ‘It’s too late because I’m in love with someone else.’

‘Please don’t say that.’ He shakes his head hopelessly. ‘You can’t even get hold of him!’ He’s suddenly full of frustration about this crazy situation.

‘I don’t know why that is,’ I admit. ‘But it doesn’t change things. As soon as I can get organised, I’m going to go back to America. I need to talk to him, to find out what’s going on. I don’t believe he doesn’t love me.’

‘So that’s it,’ he says dully. ‘Christ,’ he wells up again. ‘Is that really it? Are we done? All because of some bloke in America who doesn’t give a shit about you?’

I don’t answer him.

‘If you leave again,’ he says in a warning tone, ‘and it doesn’t work out—’

‘I know,’ I interject. ‘I know there’s no going back, even if I wanted that. But I do hope one day we can be friends.’

He looks stunned.

‘Sorry,’ I say quickly. ‘But I had to say that.’

‘This is so fucked up.’ He pushes his chair out from the table. ‘You’re making a big mistake, do you know that?’ He stands up and once more I feel the pause in conversation from the people at the tables next to us.

‘I don’t think so,’ I reply somberly as he delves into his pocket and pulls out his wallet.

‘You’d better go and stay with Marty.’ He slaps a twenty-pound note on the table. ‘I can’t be near you at the moment.’

‘Matthew!’ I stare up at him in despair. ‘Please can we try to keep this amiable? Please can we—’

‘No, we can’t,’ he snaps with a glare. ‘Catch the bus back to your parents’ house.’

Then he turns on his heel and storms out.

I feel my face redden as I check the bill before hurrying out onto the street.

I don’t think I can bear to wait for the bus. It’ll cost a fortune, but I decide to try to catch a cab instead. There are none to be seen, so I set off in the direction of Magdalene Bridge.

The faster I walk, the calmer I feel. In a couple of weeks I’ll go back to America no matter what. I will find out what’s going on with Leo. I’m not sure what I’m going to do about work, yet, but I don’t have to decide now. Whatever happens, Becky will be fine – she’ll do well, in fact. It’s about time she moved up and I moved on. I really believe she can take the charity forward. I don’t know where that will leave me, but I’ll work it out. It will be okay. Everything will be okay when I see Leo. I hope he hasn’t done anything stupid, I think darkly as I reach the end of the road and turn right onto a busier street. I shake my head to rid myself of these thoughts, and then my phone starts to buzz in my handbag. I see a taxi approaching on the other side of the road and hold up my hand to flag it down, while rummaging around in my bag for my phone. I pull it out and – Oh, thank God, it’s Leo! I could cry I’m so happy! The taxi slows down and I start to run across the street, my finger fumbling for the answer button, then …

Whomp.

Something hard hits me and the impact sucks my breath away. I’m thrown backwards then forwards, hitting the ground with a thud. What just happened?

Someone screams, but it sounds very far away. A face appears above me – she looks absolutely horrified. This is bad. I sense this is bad.

Leo! I open my mouth to say his name out loud, but nothing comes out. Where’s my phone? I try to turn my head, but can’t move. Then I taste the blood in my mouth, see the crowd grow around me, notice the dented bonnet of the car that hit me. A black car … Oh no, this is bad.

I feel so numb. Why do I feel so numb? And then, suddenly, the pain is all-encompassing. It’s a welcome relief to slip away.

Brrring …

Brrring …

Brrring …

She doesn’t answer. I stare down at my cell phone and fight the impulse to stamp on it before angrily slamming it down on the side table, where it’s still attached to its charger. I lost the damn thing a week and a half ago. Wanted to send her a text a couple of days after she left, but couldn’t find it anywhere.

I hardly ever use my cell – I’ve had the same one for years. I would have bought a new one, except that I wouldn’t have had her number, so I turned the apartment upside down instead. Finally drove back down to the keys yesterday and turned the house upside down, too, before finding it between the seat cushions of the couch. Luckily I’d moved the couch up onto the porch. They had rain last week – it would have drowned. I nearly punched the wall when I realised it had a dead battery and I didn’t have my charger with me. Ended up driving through the night to get back to Miami.

It’s been a crappy couple of weeks.

God knows what’s going through her mind about me now. She’s tried calling me loads of times, left a few messages. She’s probably got herself all worked up, thinking that I’ve run back to Ashlee. Yeah, right. I’ve gone back to work at the bar, but at least she hasn’t shown up yet.

I’ve been thinking a lot about Key West. About Laura’s crazy idea to turn the place into a guest house. Being back in that house without her … It still smelled of her, of her perfume. I caught traces of it in my bed, in her bedroom, even on the couch.

Her bedroom. I don’t even think of it as my mother’s anymore. I couldn’t go into that room for years after she died, but now it reminds me of Laura. I lay on her bed for a bit, musing about how she took the darkness away. I would have stayed there for longer just to feel close to her, if it hadn’t been for that charger.