The Venus Trap (28 page)

‘What is it, Sean?’ I said, once we were alone. ‘Where’s Michelle?’

‘Waiting for me in there. I said I just needed a quick chat. She’s cool with that.’

‘So . . . ?’

I realised that I was standing very aggressively, hip out, arms crossed, chin jutted as if I was about to head-butt him. A tempting thought.

‘Jo, I just wanted to say, for what it’s worth, that . . . well, I would have married you, you know. Nothing could ever come close to what we had together.’

I resisted the temptation to roll my eyes. Here we go again, I thought—and he’s engaged! Is there ever going to be an end
to this?

‘Then why didn’t you marry me?’ I asked, as patiently as I could. ‘Why did you dump me?’

Sean looked me in the eyes then and just for a second I felt a deep stab of passion and regret. ‘That’s what I wanted to tell you. It wasn’t because I went off you or anything. It was because, well, I never told you this, but it was because I knew I couldn’t ever hope to compete with Richard. I know deep down you’d have gone
back to
him if I hadn’t put pressure on you to stay with me. I just feel really bad about that, and I’m sorry. I really am, Jo. I know you loved me—but I could tell you still had feelings for him too, and I just couldn’t handle it. Anyway. That’s it. I just wanted to let you know. Take care.’

He turned abruptly and loped back into the bar without a farewell. I slumped against the wall, astonished and shocked. Sean had just been more honest to me in one minute than he had through the whole of our relationship. Why had he never told me that before? Of course it made sense that he was hugely threatened by my marriage, and by Richard—but at the time, I’d sincerely believed that it was Sean I loved and not Richard, and it hadn’t occurred to me that Sean might doubt the depth of my feelings. Let alone doubt it with good reason . . . .

I sighed. Boy, that was two relationships I’d managed to screw up. I wondered, if I’d stayed with Sean, whether or not we’d have lasted the course. Probably not.

But still, I thought, pulling myself together and repeating my little affirmations like a mantra, it’s really all in the past now. I’m fine. I’m still alive, unlike Claudio. I’m on a night out with my friends. Megan’s fine. Richard seems fine, and Sean’s getting married. Good luck to him.

As I walked out of the bar, Sean had his back to me, performing a hesitant and rather clumsy sort of spin with Michelle and all the other couples. Michelle saw me go, although she was pretending not to watch. I smiled at her and she gave me a tight half-smile back. I’m sure she’s never been so pleased to see anybody leave.

Donna was on her mobile when I got outside and as she talked, I linked arms with her and Steph, and we set off, on our way to a bar in which, hopefully, there would be nobody I’d ever dated.

‘Really?’ she was saying. ‘When? Really? No!’ She unlinked arms with me and whispered, ‘Go on ahead, I’ll catch you up!’

‘What did he want?’ Steph asked me as we walked on, in step. ‘Are you still OK?’

‘I think so,’ I replied. ‘In fact, I think I might be more than fine. Wow . . . .’ I was feeling very philosophical, in the way you tend to become after several vodka and tonics. ‘ . . . I think I have actually managed to Let Go.’

‘Of what? Your grip on reality? Oh no, sweetie, that went
years ago.’

I slapped Steph’s shoulder. ‘No! Well—probably—but you know what I mean. I feel so different now, like I really have moved on. I think that seeing the consequences of Claudio not being able to let go really changed things for me. That, and having the nerve to sock him one and escape. I just don’t feel the sort of self-pity I used to, not any more.’

‘Thank God for that,’ said Stephanie bluntly. She never minced her words after a few drinks. ‘You were a nightmare.’

I thought about getting offended for a moment, but couldn’t. She was right, after all. And now that I realised it, I could do something to change it.

There was so much in my life that I couldn’t change—choosing to walk down that dark alley, Dad dying, the decision to go skating that day with John, marrying and divorcing Richard, or falling in love with Sean. But I could change how things would be in
the future.

Steph and I turned round as we heard Donna’s footsteps hurrying up behind us.

‘Guess what?’ she said, snapping shut her mobile. ‘Henry, for once in his little life, has just told me the most massive bit of gossip!’

‘Ooh, what? What?’ Steph and I chorused, philosophising
forgotten.

‘Richard’s dumped Wendy!’

We all stopped in the street and stared wide-eyed at one another. ‘Yes,’ Donna continued conspiratorially, and for a moment I felt like I was fifteen again. ‘He told Henry that he’d never loved her, not really, that it was just a comfortable sort of relationship to be in after he split up with you, Jo, but he realised that it was going nowhere and that it wasn’t what he wanted. And that she deserved to be with someone who would eventually marry her, because he knew that he wouldn’t.’

‘Wow,’ I said again, more slowly. My first thought was to hope that Richard was OK. He and I had become a lot closer since the Claudio trauma. Nothing romantic—although, strangely, I found myself really looking forward to when he picked Megan up and dropped her off again after their weekends together, and
sometimes
we shared a glass of wine or a cup of tea—but there was a bond between us, deeper than just our shared parenthood of Megan, and it was such a relief to rediscover it.

‘He didn’t mention anything to me when he came to get Megan yesterday. I wonder why not?’

At that moment, my own phone rang. Richard’s name flashed up, so it was my turn to hang back from the others as I answered it. They walked on a little way and waited for me at a discreet distance, admiring the window display in Jigsaw.

‘Talk of the devil! How are you?’

I had an awful thought—why was Richard ringing me at ni
ne thir
ty on a Saturday night? ‘Is Megan OK? Is she sick? Do you need me to come round?’

Richard’s voice, so familiar and comforting, flowed into my ear. ‘She’s absolutely fine. Fast asleep with her bum in the air and a floppy toy tucked under each armpit. Don’t worry. I was just calling to arrange when I’m dropping her off tomorrow. We didn’t say a time yesterday, did we? I was wondering if you fancied meeting up at Red Peppers for an early dinner, the three of us?’

‘That would be lovely,’ I said with real pleasure. For Megan’s sake, we were trying hard to still do some things together as a family. It wasn’t
exactly a hardship. We found ourselves slipping back into our old
routines
—sharing a bottle of the same Rioja we always used to drink,
helping Megan with the word-searches on the kids’ menu, playing I-Spy.

It just seemed really weird when Richard didn’t come home with Megan and me afterwards.

‘So, um, have you heard that Wendy and I broke up?’ He sounded embarrassed. I turned my back on the others, who were cooing over some suede boots in Jigsaw’s window.

‘Just now, funnily enough. Henry’s just rung Donna,
two minutes ago
, and told her.’

Richard laughed wryly. ‘Not that funny really—good old Henry. I’ve only just got off the phone from him.’

I laughed too. ‘Yes, well, I think he knows the kind of trouble he’d be in if he didn’t report any gossip immediately to Donna. She got it written as a clause into their prenuptial agreement, didn’t she? Anyway . . . for what it’s worth, I’m really sorry, Richard. I never met Wendy, but Megan liked her and, you know, I’m sure it was good that you had someone . . . .’

I tailed off. It seemed inappropriate, if not downright arrogant, to say ‘It was good that you had someone to take your mind off the fact that I left you.’

‘Thanks, Jo,’ he said quietly. ‘Yeah. She’s a great girl, but . . .’

For some strange reason, there were butterflies banging away in my stomach—butterflies! Richard had rarely given me butterflies before, but he was now, without a doubt. I felt mystified, and excited. Probably just the drink, I thought—although I wasn’t all that drunk. In fact, I’d never felt more sober in my life.

He was single again. I was single again. He was my most favourite person in the whole world, apart from Megan. He was always, always there for me.

I gulped.

‘Richard,’ I began. ‘Um . . . obviously, say no if you don’t fancy me—I mean,
it
; say no if you don’t fancy it, but I wondered if you’d like to go out to dinner next week? Without Megan, just the two of us, for a grown-up dinner somewhere?’

There was a pause and I found myself holding my breath. What if I’d got this all wrong? What if he’d only dumped Wendy because he had someone new? That would be so mortifying.

Steph and Donna were starting to gesticulate at me. ‘Hurry up, I’m freezing,’ called Donna, banging her arms against her sides and stamping her feet. ‘Who is it? Call them back later!’

I made a face at her. ‘Won’t be long,’ I mouthed back, and they rolled their eyes and went back to discussing the practicalities of cropped trousers when summer was long over.

When Richard finally replied, I could hear the smile in his voice, and joy flooded through me.

‘I’d love to, Jo,’ he said. ‘I’d really love to.’

‘Who was that?’ Donna demanded once I’d got off the phone and rejoined them, beaming all over my face.

‘Oh, just some hot guy I’ve got a date with next week,’ I said airily. ‘I invited him out to dinner.’

‘You tart!’ said Stephanie. ‘I thought you said you were off all men and didn’t want to date anybody?’

‘Well.’ I just couldn’t stop smiling. ‘Technically, I’m only off men that I’ve never been married to before . . .’

Acknowledgements

A huge thank you to the lovely Emilie Marneur, my editor at Thomas & Mercer, and the rest of the team, especially Sana
Chebaro
and Neil Hart. Particular thanks go to Katie Green for the heroic editing skills that have massively improved this book, and to
Jennifer
McIntyre whose copyediting comments on the manuscript often really made me laugh, as well as feel infinitely more confident
about it.

Thanks to Mark Edwards for the encouragement, for being my first reader, and for coming up with the title (knowing well how rubbish I am at thinking of good titles!). Others who have been encouraging, supportive, or helpful in some way include Martin Toseland, Rachel Abbott, Lucy Vickery, Gracie Voss, Helen Russell, and my and Mark’s excellent Facebook fans.

About the Author

Photo © 2012 Louise Voss

Louise Voss was born and raised in
Salisbury
, England. She began her writing career in the mid-1990s when, while
living
in New York, she enrolled in a creative writing course.

Her first novel,
To Be Someone
, was published in 2001 by Transworld, and was the first book to come with its own CD soundtrack. This was followed by three more contemporary
women’s
fiction novels until she switched to writing thrillers with Mark Edwards in 2011.

She and Mark were the first UK self-published authors to reach #1 on the Amazon charts with
Catch Your Death
. Their fifth co-written novel,
From the Cradle
, was published in 2014 by Thomas & Mercer.

Louise currently lives and writes near Hampton Court. She is an avid tennis player, knitter, singer, upcycler and jewellery-maker, and adds that she can stand on her head and write backwards. Although not at the same time.

She can be reached at
@LouiseVoss1
on Twitter. Her website is
www.vossandedwards.com
.