When You Walked Back Into My Life (29 page)

‘What will you do about Prue?’

Flora shook her head slowly.

‘For Bel’s sake …’ He stopped, knowing, perhaps, that he was on dangerous ground.

She didn’t say anything. The scale of the betrayal from
the two people who were supposed to love her more than anyone else in the world – except Bel perhaps – was too huge to comprehend.

‘Can you go away please,’ she begged him, knowing that she couldn’t hold on much longer with him in the same room.

‘Go away? Don’t say that. If I go, I know you’ll never speak to me again. We have to talk this through, Flo. Look at me. It was three years ago, a lifetime. It was just a sort of madness, a stupid mistake, not anything important. And we didn’t mean to hurt you … we both vowed you’d never ever find out. All of us had too much to lose.’ He paused. ‘We still do.’

But Flora barely heard what he said.

‘Please …’

‘I don’t want to leave you like this.’ He stood up. ‘I’ll come back in a couple of hours.’

‘Don’t.’

‘Are you chucking me out?’ The disbelief in his voice made her look up.

‘You really think I can be with you now that I know what you did with my own sister?’

He sank to his knees in front of her. ‘Flora, please … please don’t say that. You’re upset. You can’t throw away everything we’ve got together for some stupid mistake three years ago. We love each other. We’re having a baby together.’

At the word ‘baby’, Flora let out a long howl. Feral and tortured, the sound was foreign to her ears. But once started, she had no control over it. It was like a solid force pressing up through her body and out of her mouth. Fin shrank from it, staring at her in horror.

The silence that followed echoed with her cry. He got up.

‘Come on. I’m putting you to bed.’ He lifted her bodily off the sofa, cradling her like a baby and carried her through to the bedroom. The touch of his arms around her was an agony – it felt like the last time she would ever be held so close by him. Because, while half of her wanted to kill him for what he had done, the other half longed to sink against him and be safe, forget everything that he’d just told her.

*

Flora woke from a drugged sleep to the stark reality of Fin’s – and Prue’s – betrayal. She looked at the clock: ten past four. She’d slept for over two hours. The flat was silent. Heaving herself out of bed, she tiptoed, shivering, into the sitting room. It was suddenly much colder, nearly dark outside. She poured a glass of water and drank it straight down, then just stood there, propped against the draining board, with literally no idea what she should do.

Normally she would have called Prue. But she couldn’t do that, couldn’t even confront her sister about her betrayal until she got back from the country. And then only if she
could talk to her without Bel hearing. That was one thing she did know. She had no desire whatsoever to break up her sister’s marriage and ruin Bel’s life. Neither Philip nor her niece would ever hear it from her.

Where’s Fin? she wondered. Had he taken off, as she’d requested, maybe to Inverness? If he came back, could she face him? She lay on the sofa in front of the TV, the duvet tight around her cold body. She didn’t care what she was watching – some old cowboy movie – she just wanted to get rid of the silence and stop herself from thinking.

Later, she made herself some toast, but the food choked her. She heard Prue and the family arriving back from the country, Bel shouting to her father as he went to park the car to bring her scarf from the back seat. She hoped none of them would drop in.

Round about ten o’clock, the door opened. Fin was standing in front of her, his face pink with cold, his hair shining wet from the icy drizzle that had been coming down all day.

‘Hi.’

She sat up, pleased, despite herself, to see him. Her solitude had begun to frighten her, to remind her of the days after Fin had left her before, when she had done just as she had today: lie almost immobile under the duvet, speaking to no one, for hours at a time.

Fin hovered, not even taking his pea coat off, obviously unsure of his welcome.

‘Can I stay tonight?’ he asked quietly.

She nodded, and saw the immediate relief on his face. Then, for the first time, she began to cry. Her sobs tore into the silence. Fin was beside her in a second, wrapping her in his arms, holding her head tight against his chest, rocking her to and fro as he too cried.

The ‘sorry, sorry, sorry’ that dropped into her hair meant nothing to her. Of course he was sorry – sorry for everything all the time. But he could say it till doomsday and it would never alter the fact that he loved himself and his mountains more than he loved her. Nor would it change the fact that she wanted more from a partner than he would ever be able to give. His affair with Prue might be the final nail in the coffin of their relationship, but she had to accept that it was only the last in a long line.

‘Have you eaten?’ he asked, looking down at her as he continued to hold her. She shook her head.

‘You must.’ He didn’t mention the baby, but she knew that was what he meant. ‘I’ll make you some scrambled eggs if you like.’

21 January

The conditions on Monday morning were treacherous. The rain from the weekend had turned to light snow and frozen overnight into patches of ice, making the roads and pavements like a skating rink. Flora crept along the street to the bus stop, terrified she would fall.

Fin was leaving today.

‘Good weekend?’ Mary put the kettle on as soon as Flora arrived. ‘I wasn’t sure you’d make it through. Cold as a witch’s tit it was last night.’

‘How’s the new nurse?’

‘Lakme? Yeah, nice girl. Indian, young. She didn’t say much, seemed a bit shy. But Dorothea was perfectly happy when I came on. Not like she was before.’

‘So she’s safe with her? That’s all we need to know.’

‘I reckon so. And there’s none of that sugary bollocks we got from the evil Pia.’

Dorothea was having a good day. She’d sat out for a while in the morning and didn’t seem keen to go back to bed when Flora suggested it.

‘Will you … choose something,’ she suddenly asked Flora from her armchair.

‘Choose … what for?’

The old lady waved her hand around the room. ‘I’d like you to have something … of mine.’

‘That’s very kind, but I don’t think I should.’

‘Why ever not? I may get muddled a lot nowadays, but these are my things … aren’t they?’ She raised her eyebrow, her tiny, birdlike frame suddenly animated.

Flora laughed. ‘Of course. I just don’t want people thinking I’ve been taking advantage of you.’

‘If that were true, you wouldn’t … perhaps be the only person to do so.’

Does she mean Dominic? Flora wondered.

‘But you’ve been so kind to me,’ Dorothea added.

‘Well, I would love something to remember you by … not that I’ll ever forget you.’

Dorothea gave a self-conscious shake of her head. ‘I think … I should like to go back to bed now.’

*

When the old lady was asleep, Flora went into the nurses’ bedroom and curled up on top of the polyester duvet. She felt almost calm, as if the events of the previous day had happened to someone else. Fin will be packing his things now, she thought. He was going back to Inverness that night. Going, he said, until they’d both had time to think. And she held onto this. Not the end, she kept telling herself over and over. Not …
not
the end.

When she thought of her sister, she felt a helpless despair. Prue was her mainstay, her family, her rescuer, her friend. The cowardly part of her wondered why she should even tell her that she knew? What good would it do? Her sister would just repeat what Fin had said: it meant nothing, we were in a weird place, we never wanted to hurt you. All probably true, and all complete self-serving rubbish.

The day seemed very long, but even so, she didn’t want it to end. She knew what awaited her: a cold, empty flat and the task of confronting her sister. So when she left, instead of hurrying to the bus, she dawdled in the cold air, happy to exist in any limbo that delayed her homecoming.

‘Hey, Flora?’ The shout came from across the road. She turned and saw Simon Kent weaving through the traffic towards her, wrapped in his heavy tweed overcoat and red wool scarf. Her heart sank.

‘Hi.’

‘Thought it was you. You off home?’ His breath clouded the night air between them.

‘Yes. Long day.’

‘I’m sure. I don’t suppose you fancy a quick drink, do you?’ he said, then shook his head. ‘No, stupid of me. You’ll want to get home to Fin.’

‘Nope.’ She didn’t trust herself to say more.

He waited.

‘OK, why not?’

Without another word he pulled her into a pub on the corner. The warmth and noise were bliss to Flora, a welcoming cocoon of anonymous humanity.

They found a couple of stools on the edge of a larger table, occupied by two men and a girl huddled in an intense conversation about their boss.

The doctor brought her a glass of lime and soda, and half a lager for himself.

‘I won’t be very good company,’ Flora said, eyeing the lime juice with disdain. She wanted nothing more at that moment than a massive margarita.

‘Shall I ask you why not, or should we stick to the safety of our incontinence-pad dialogue?’

Despite herself, she laughed. ‘Devil and the deep blue sea, I’m afraid.’

He shot her a cautious glance. ‘At least call me Simon.
We’ve known each other for more than two years and you always call me Dr Kent. Most colleagues these days call each other by their first names.’

She smiled. ‘Right … Simon it is.’

‘It’s quite odd to see you out of that flat, you know. You only exist for me in the twilight world of Miss Dorothea Heath-Travis.’

‘A strange world indeed. I sometimes think people would give us a wide berth if they knew what we’d been up to all day.’

‘You mean the pee, poo and snot issue?’

‘For me it’s cleaning the false teeth every night.’ She shuddered. ‘Old food and denture fixative … yuk.’

They sipped their drinks in silence, Flora resisting the impulse to tell him the tale of her humiliation. She couldn’t bear the flood of pity and concern guaranteed to follow.

‘Tell me something trivial and stupid,’ she said.

‘Stupid? You mean a joke? I only know one.’

‘Go on.’

Simon shifted on his seat, clearly not at ease with her request. ‘If you insist. So, a man walks into a bar with a duck on his head. The bartender looks up and says, “Where did you get that ape?” The man says, “It’s not an ape, it’s a duck.” Bartender says, “I wasn’t talking to you.”’

Flora couldn’t help smiling, not so much at the terrible joke but at the deadpan way Simon Kent delivered it.

‘Lame, isn’t it?’

‘Most jokes are.’

‘I think if you have the knack of telling them right …’

Despite wanting to laugh with him, to have a normal conversation, she found she was only half-listening to what he was saying. And he knew there was something wrong, she could tell from the cautious glances he kept throwing her way. But she was grateful to him for not pressing her.

‘Listen …
Simon
 … thanks for the drink, but I think I’d better get home.’

He nodded, making no objection.

‘If you ever want to talk … I’m not just an idiot who tells bad duck jokes and makes you waltz in your pyjamas at midnight. I can listen.’

She smiled her thanks. ‘I know.’

They stood huddled on the corner in the biting wind saying their goodbyes, but she suddenly felt unable to take another step.

‘I think I’ll get a cab.’

He peered at her. ‘You look terrible. Go back into the pub. I’ll find one.’

She didn’t argue.

Once home, she was restless, pacing around the
furniture, everywhere noticing bits of Fin that he’d left behind: a dog-eared map of the Highlands, a sock poking out from under the sofa, the cup he must have drunk coffee from that morning. And each time it brought a new pain. She looked at her watch. It was after nine-thirty. Prue might be home.

Can you come down? I need to talk to you.
She texted her sister and sat down, phone clutched in hand, to wait. When she heard the upstairs door open, she quickly stood up, not wanting to be at a disadvantage.

‘Hi, darling.’ Prue scuffed down the steps in the pink woollen slipper-socks that Flora had given her for Christmas. As her head emerged into the room she grinned. ‘What’s up?’

Flora could feel her heartbeat pounding in her ears. The words would be irrevocable, she knew that. By saying them she would seal her own fate and that of her sister.

‘Fin told me.’

Prue didn’t understand the significance at first. She plonked herself down on the sofa. ‘Told you what?’ She looked up at Flora questioningly.

‘Told me about you and him.’

Prue stared at her. For a moment their eyes locked. ‘Bastard. I knew he’d cave eventually.’

Flora watched her shoot to her feet, just as Fin had done,
coming towards her as if to embrace her. She wanted to back off, but she found she couldn’t move.

But her sister stopped short of touching her. She just peered into Flora’s face, her own frowning, mouth twisting.

‘Darling, listen. I know it sounds really terrible, and if I were you I’d be upset, of course I would. But you’ve got to realise, it was just a meaningless thing.’

‘So that’s it, is it?’

Prue shrugged. ‘I hate myself now for having done it, but at the time we just got carried away. Flora, please … it was a pointless, stupid moment. Just sex. You should never have found out.’ She looked around the flat. ‘Where’s Fin?’

‘He’s gone.’

‘Oh, darling. You haven’t split up because of this have you? That’s madness. You’re having his baby.’

‘How often did you see him?’

She saw her sister hesitate, probably wondering what Fin had said. ‘Just a couple of times. He was the one who drove it, not me.’

‘Funny, that’s exactly what Fin said about you.’

‘Well, he would. He’s never exactly been Mr Truthful, has he?’

‘He said it went on for a year. You say it was just twice. Who do I believe?’