Then she ran down the stairs to greet her friend. Ted was already taking Autumn’s coat.
‘Hey,’ Chantal hugged her. ‘The fridge is stocked. There’s wine. Some treats from the deli and plenty of chocolate.’
‘I should babysit more often,’ Autumn joked.
Chantal glanced at her watch. ‘Our table is in ten minutes. We’d better get a move on.’
‘I’m ready,’ Ted said.
As her husband hung up Autumn’s coat with one hand, he passed Chantal’s to her with the other and she shrugged it on.
‘We won’t be long,’ she said to Autumn.
‘I’m not going anywhere,’ Autumn said. ‘I’m yours for the evening. Take as long as you like.’
‘Call me if you need to. Don’t hesitate.’ It was the first time she’d left Lana and she knew that she was panicking unnecessarily.
‘Everything will be fine. Go.’ Autumn shooed them towards the door.
‘She’s fast asleep.’
‘Then I’ll resist the urge to wake her up for a cuddle as soon as you’re gone.’
‘There’s a bottle ready to warm in the kitchen if she does wake up.’
‘Get out of here,’ Autumn said, waving towards the door. ‘Don’t fuss.’
Chantal kissed Autumn’s cheek. ‘I love you.’
‘I love you, too. Have a lovely evening. Relax. Drink wine.’
‘We will if we ever get out of the house,’ Ted said.
Chantal held up her hands. ‘I’m outta here.’
A few seconds later, Ted ushered her out onto the street. The wind was biting and the weather forecast was for a dusting of snow again. It was looking more and more likely that a white Christmas was on the cards.
‘Cold?’ Ted asked.
‘Freezing. Let’s hurry.’
He tucked her arm into his and together they set off at a good pace. That would soon get them warm. A hard frost was settling on the trees along their street.
When they reached the restaurant, it looked inviting with candles flickering in the window. As they opened the door, the scents of garlic and herbs wafting towards them were equally appealing. It was warm inside, slumber-inducingly so. It was a long time since she’d had an unbroken night’s sleep and she wondered if they had a couch in here that they’d mind her using for a pre-dinner nap. Holly and mistletoe hung from the beams in the ceiling and a Christmas tree that was really too large for the space was crammed in the corner. She remembered why she’d loved this cosy place.
As it was a week night, the restaurant was relatively quiet with only a few other couples already seated. Thankfully, it was too small to host the office parties that normally started with a vengeance at the beginning of December. They were fussed over by the owner and shown to what had once been their regular favourite table. It felt as if they were turning back the clock.
‘This is nice,’ Chantal said.
‘We should do it more often,’ Ted agreed.
‘Once a month. Without fail.’ They both knew that it was highly unlikely, but the sentiment was there and that was a good start.
When they’d ordered, she and Ted chatted about nothing in particular until their food came. Her husband had two glasses of Prosecco, which she eschewed as she was mostly still breastfeeding Lana and no one liked a drunk baby.
She toasted her husband’s birthday with a Diet Coke. ‘Happy birthday, darling.’
They clinked glasses.
As she tucked into her pumpkin risotto topped with crispy sage, Chantal broached the subject that always hung between them when they were alone now and asked, ‘How are Stacey and Elsie?’
Most of the time she could simply blank out the fact that her husband had another child. He disappeared during the day on Saturday to visit them and, a couple of nights of the week, called at Stacey’s house on the way home from work. On Wednesday evenings, he tended to stay late and surely it must be time spent alone with Stacey as Elsie, presumably, would be long in bed. She wondered what they talked about, what they did. Perhaps the reason she and Ted weren’t sleeping together was that he was still actually having a relationship with Stacey. The thought had crossed her mind more than once, but she really tried not to dwell on it. Was there still more between them than Ted admitted to? Somehow, it was only when she and Ted were sitting quietly together that she felt she had to face it.
The fork he was holding stalled on its way to his mouth and Ted cleared his throat. He dropped his food back to his plate. ‘It’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about.’
Chantal felt her stomach clench. She tried to be cool about this. Families took many different shapes and forms these days. Blended. Wasn’t that the word? Besides, she could hardly blame Ted for this. Her own copy book was hardly blot-free. Shouldn’t she embrace the other half of the Hamilton family as best she could?
‘Shoot,’ she said as calmly as she could.
‘It’s Stacey, really.’ He faltered slightly as he said her name. It wasn’t often that they spoke of her. Their conversations, when they had them, tended to focus more on Elsie.
She waited, silently, until he found the words to continue.
‘I’m worried about her.’ Ted pursed his lips. ‘She has very little help with Elsie. There’s no family nearby to pop in as Stacey’s folks live in Scotland. And Elsie seems to be a bit more . . . demanding . . . than Lana. She doesn’t sleep all that well. So I believe.’
Chantal tried to remain impartial, but it was at times like this when she couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy. ‘Doesn’t she have any friends?’ The first people she’d turn to in a similar situation would be the girls of the Chocolate Lovers’ Club.
‘Most of her friends are high-fliers,’ he said. ‘I’m not sure that they empathise with her current situation. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but I feel as if Stacey’s going downhill.’ Ted avoided her eyes. ‘She cries a lot.’
‘That doesn’t sound good.’ Yet Chantal wondered whether she wouldn’t cry herself in the same situation. ‘Has she spoken to her doctor or the health visitor?’
‘I don’t think so.’ Ted sighed heavily. ‘I have a big favour to ask you, Chantal, and I could fully understand it if you said no.’
‘You want me to go and see her?’ It wasn’t hard to work that out.
Ted’s face sagged with relief. ‘Would you? I don’t know what else to do. I thought if you could find out what’s wrong it might help?’
Perhaps it was simply because she was on her own with a baby, and the man she loved – even if it was as briefly as Ted insisted – is now back with his wife. That was never going to be easy.
‘It’s a big ask, Ted.’
‘I appreciate that. If you don’t want to . . .’ He looked as if he had no idea what else he would do if she said no.
Chantal sighed to herself. ‘Will Stacey even want to speak to me?’ She wasn’t sure how she’d feel in Stacey’s situation.
‘I think so. I’ll ask her to. She needs someone and I’m completely useless.’
Chantal tried a smile as she teased her husband. ‘You’re a guy. Of course you are.’
Ted laughed, the tension dissipating. ‘I knew you’d help.’
‘I can’t promise to make things any better,’ Chantal said, ‘but I’ll do what I can.’
He reached across the table and squeezed her hand. ‘Thank you.’
So she’d agreed to a face-to-face with Stacey. Who’d have imagined it? And, though she managed to smile and chat throughout the rest of the meal, there was a tight knot of anxiety in her stomach.
Chapter Fourteen
Autumn noted that it was still early when Chantal and Ted returned from the restaurant – not yet ten o’clock. She knew that their relationship was still on a shaky footing, though Ted had his arm round her shoulder, so that had to be a good sign.
Chantal came in and threw her handbag down. ‘How has my little angel been?’
‘Disappointingly well-behaved,’
Autumn said. ‘I thought about prodding her awake just so that I could have a cuddle.’
‘Oh, bless,’ Chantal said. ‘It probably means that she’ll be bright-eyed and bouncy for half the night, though.’
Autumn stood up and stretched. ‘I’ll leave you to get to your bed then.’
‘Stay,’ Chantal urged. ‘At least have a cup of tea with us.’
Autumn shook her head. ‘I should go.’ She punched a number into her phone and requested a cab. ‘They’ll be here in five minutes.’
‘Perfect.’
‘Goodnight, Ted,’ Autumn said and headed for the hall. Chantal followed her and closed the living-room door behind her. She lifted Autumn’s coat from the rack and helped her to shrug it on.
‘Did you have a good evening?’ Autumn asked, raising an eyebrow.
‘Yes,’ Chantal said, but there was a noticeable hesitation. ‘Sort of.’ She pursed her lips and then lowered her voice. ‘Ted asked me to go round and visit Stacey.’
‘Wow,’ Autumn said, matching her tone. ‘For any particular reason?’
Chantal looked to check that the door was fully closed and dropped her voice further to a hushed whisper. ‘He said he thought that she was struggling. It sounds like she’s depressed.’
‘Baby blues?’
‘Maybe. Apparently she has no family locally and all her friends are high-powered businesswomen who don’t seem particularly interested in her predicament. I think she’s a bit out on a limb.’
‘That must be hard with a new baby. Perhaps she’d be glad of a visit then?’
‘And perhaps she’ll want to stab me in both eyes. It could go either way.’
‘Maybe she’ll be too exhausted to launch a physical attack.’
Chantal smiled. ‘Ah. So true. You think I should go?’
‘If Ted has asked you to, then it would be nice to find a way to reach out to her.’
Her friend tutted. ‘Has anyone ever told you that you’re far too nice for your own good, Autumn Fielding?’
‘I could come with you.’
‘If she’ll agree to see me then I should do it one-on-one. I couldn’t cope if she rocked up here with a mate for back-up.’
‘If she had someone like that to call on then I don’t think Ted would be asking you to go and see her.’
‘True enough. Maybe I should sleep on it.’ Chantal kissed her cheek. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow? Chocolate Heaven?’
‘I’m sure. Text me what time you’ll be there.’
‘I love you,’ Chantal said. ‘Thanks for looking after Lana for us.’
‘I did nothing except watch Notting Hill and eat all your chocolate.’
‘That’s what babysitters are supposed to do.’
A text pinged in to let her know that her cab had arrived and Chantal opened the front door. A few flakes of snow fluttered in the air.
‘Don’t wave me goodbye, go inside and close the door,’ she said to Chantal. ‘It’s really cold. Give Lana a kiss for me.’
Autumn knew that she should ring Addison. He was at a conference tonight in Brighton but, for some reason, she didn’t want to call. She’d told him that she was babysitting for Chantal and would be late home. If it was anything like the conferences he usually went on then he’d be in the bar at this hour, ‘networking’. Probably better not to disturb him.
Then she was gripped by a need so visceral that it startled her. She didn’t want to be alone tonight. She missed Rich desperately and had to find some way to be close to him. So Autumn knocked on the glass partition and, when the taxi driver slid the window open, she gave him Rich’s address.
The traffic was light, the streets of London quiet as the cab made its way to her brother’s apartment instead of her own. The windscreen wipers swatted the snow away lazily and she let her eyes close, allowing the cabbie’s chatter about the state of the weather drift over her.
A few minutes later he dropped her off. She stood on the pavement, watching him drive away and, as the cold crept up her legs, she wished that she’d worn boots instead of shoes.
Rich’s apartment was in a salubrious area of London. It had been funded partly by him – though she had never wanted to acknowledge exactly where his money came from – but mostly by their parents. What their mother and father lacked in emotional support for their offspring, they made up for by throwing wads of cash at them. They’d known that Rich had been seriously ill, his immune system compromised by years of drug abuse. They’d also known that when he returned home he still wasn’t out of the woods, but they weren’t so interested in that. They’d made a few hospital visits and stumped up some money. As far as they were concerned, that was all their involvement needed to be. Though they were prepared to pay the bills, she didn’t think they’d even been to this apartment since he’d moved in. And now it was too late.
If they hadn’t paid for Rich’s accommodation, then he might have been forced to return home and, quite frankly, they wouldn’t have been able to cope with that. As children, both of them had been shipped off to boarding school as soon as humanly possible, so they hadn’t lived permanently at home with their parents since they were about eight years old.
Perhaps that’s why Autumn felt that she needed to over-compensate. Every transgression from Rich had felt like a failure on her own part. He’d been her responsibility. She’d been more like a mother to him than their real mother and she’d let him down. Now he was gone and it was as if her own reason for being here had disappeared along with him.
Rich’s apartment was on the ground floor. It was small, one bedroom, but this was London and a good area, so it was ruinously expensive nevertheless. The snow was coming down heavier now. She wondered what she’d do for Christmas this year. Addison had made it clear that he wouldn’t want to go to her parents’ house again after last year’s disaster. Rich had turned up drunk and high and had behaved very badly. They’d all ended up wearing Christmas dinner rather than eating it after Rich created a scene at the table. Now she’d brought it to mind, she wouldn’t be that keen herself. She wondered whether her parents would insist on seeing her, but it was unlikely. She realised that, no doubt, her parents would prefer to be at one of their many homes in the sunshine or at their ski lodge. They never had been the biggest fans of Christmas or of family get-togethers.
It was late and she was doing no good standing here getting chilled down to the bone. She should go home. Yet, despite her logical reasoning, she still took the key out of her pocket, punched in the code to allow her access to the building and, with a deep breath, went inside. Rich’s apartment was the first door on the right. Her heart had started to bang in her chest now. There was still a feeling that she would open the door and he’d be there sitting waiting for her or, worse, with the motley crew of druggie friends that he gathered around him.
When she let herself inside, the apartment was still exactly the same as it had been on the night of Rich’s death. Of course it was. What else had she expected? Yet it broke her heart to see it. She wandered through the rooms, all of them empty, untouched, a shrine to Rich. If her parents wanted to sell this place then they hadn’t mentioned it.
In the bedroom, his medication still stood on his bedside table. Along with his watch, his phone, some change in a shallow dish, a half-read novel. This was where he’d died. Quietly slipping away in his sleep, all alone. Why hadn’t he waited for her to say goodbye? She’d forgiven him for all that he’d done in the past, but she felt that she’d never forgive him for that. He’d seemed fine when she’d left him a few hours earlier. Weak, tired, but not close to death. His heart had just given up, the doctor said. The effort of keeping Rich’s damaged body alive proving far too difficult a task. She would have given her own heart to him if that’s what it would have taken to keep him alive.
Autumn picked up the book, a crime thriller by a writer she’d never heard of. Rich had never been much of a reader. It was only since he’d been sick and frail, spending most of his days in bed, tha
t he’d seen it as a worthwhile pastime. She turned the book in her hands, wondering if he’d ever managed to finish it, whether this story ended as badly as Rich’s own had. As she did so, she caught a small packet of marijuana as it fell out from between the leaves of the book. She stared down at the drug in her hand. This inoffensive-looking packet of dried leaves had been the thing that had caused all of the disruption and pain in Rich’s life. If she’d put it in her tea caddy you’d barely be able to tell it apart from her green tea.
Autumn slipped it into her cardigan pocket, cleared a space on Rich’s bed and lay down. She hoped that the covers might still smell of him and that it would help her to feel closer to her missing brother. She buried her face in the pillow, but it just smelled fusty and unwashed. Soon she’d clean the apartment from top to bottom, strip the bed, dispose of Rich’s possessions. Soon, but not yet.
She had good friends, a job, no money worries, all of her life before her, yet she’d never felt so depressed. It was as if the darkness was coming to consume her and the tears flowed.
‘I miss you, Rich,’ she said into the silence. ‘I don’t know what to do without you. Why did you leave me?’
But her words hung, unanswered, in the air.
Chapter Fifteen
Nadia and Jacob were watching a film. She wasn’t even sure what it was. A thriller – supposedly – of some kind. She’d long since lost her grip on the plot, but Jacob still seemed pretty enthralled. However, Nadia was aware that she’d become more conscious of Jacob sitting close to her on the sofa than the action on the screen.
They’d been out a few times together in the daytime over the last few months. Nothing very exciting. A handful of trips to the park or to McDonald’s and always accompanied by Lewis. Jacob seemed to be really good with her son and was always up for a kick-about with the football. That was something that Lewis really missed Toby for. Apparently, it simply wasn’t the same playing football with his mum.
Jacob had been all-round brilliant with her since Toby had died. He’d really been there for her, keen to help with any of the small jobs that were more traditionally done by men. He’d taken her car to the garage for her when it needed new tyres. Sorted out the computer printer for her when it had decided, without warning, to stop working. It wasn’t that she couldn’t handle these things if she had to, but it was sometimes nice not to have to deal with them. There was something comforting about knowing there was someone there who’d got your back.
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