‘And what I said about Lou . . . it was out of order. The whole thing was utterly unforgiveable, but I know why I did what I did now. And now that I know, I can control it. I can work through it. I have to. I don’t want to be that person anymore.’
‘What do you want me to say, Olly? You can’t just come in here and apologise and expect everything to be okay again.’
‘I know.’ He nodded. ‘I’m taking responsibility for what I did. All I ever wanted was for you to be happy, and I’ve had to come to terms with the idea that it might not be me who can do that. But if it is . . . if it ever was . . . I really want to try again.’
Effie sucked in her breath. He sounded so honest, so true, so sincere. What if he really had changed? What if they could get back to how they used to be?
‘I get that it’s a huge, huge ask, and I know I’ve probably killed any trust you had in me, but I had to try. You’ve changed my life in so many ways. Even now, you’re fixing me without even knowing it.’
His voice broke, and when the tears finally fell from his eyes, it was all Effie could do not to lean across the gap between the loungers and hug him. It was an automatic response because, even after everything he’d done – the things he’d said, the physical pain he’d caused – she couldn’t bear to see him cry. She kept her hands where they were, refusing to give in.
‘You’re magical and amazing, and I love you.’
Her barriers started to crash to the ground, one by one. She thought back over the past month. She’d felt like she was finally coming out of a shell she hadn’t even known she’d been under. It had been scary and liberating at the same time. She’d operated at her own pace, in her own rhythm, and other people had noticed it too. She thought about what Smith had said, about her being like the sun. She’d half dismissed it at the time, but nobody had ever said anything like that about her before.
‘Olly . . .’ She shook her head and rubbed her eyes.
‘You’re my whole life. Please. Just give me one last chance, just one.’
‘I think . . .’ She looked at him, at his trembling chin and watery eyes, and her stomach flipped over. ‘I think you should go.’
‘Effie . . .’
‘Please, Olly. Just go.’
25.
There were two simple, but non-negotiable rules:
He had to continue his anger management course.
She could spend as much time away from him with her friends as she wanted, no questions asked.
‘One 99 Flake and chocolate sauce.’ Oliver handed her the cone filled with ice cream and sat next to her on the bench. The obvious rule of no violence was clearly implied.
When Effie had stood in front of him at the altar on their wedding day, he’d smiled at her – a smile of pure, complete happiness and love. He had that same smile on his face now.
She took the ice cream and returned his smile. ‘Thanks.’
In all the time they’d lived in Clapham, they’d only been to the Common once before, a few days after she’d moved in. On a beautiful, crisp autumn day, they’d wandered around, wrapped up in thick, woolly scarves and gloves as they held hands, kicking up the crunchy rust-coloured leaves scattered on the ground. The smell of burnt wood had floated in the freezing air, and Oliver’s nose had felt cold against hers when they’d kissed. They’d returned home to a sumptuous roast dinner. It was one of those perfect long days when every moment had created new memories.
‘What do you want to do tonight?’ Oliver asked.
Effie shrugged. ‘The cinema, maybe?’
‘Good idea. We haven’t been to The Picturehouse before, and there are some nice restaurants nearby too. I’ll book us a table, if you want.’
Effie licked her ice cream and nodded. It was Oliver who’d suggested they have at least one night a week where they did something together. A date night. She’d cringed when she’d realised that’s what it was, but she hadn’t wanted to say no. It wasn’t like she had a problem with the principle; it was just that it sounded so forced. It reminded her of when Oliver had insisted they try for a baby.
She looked at him eating his ice cream. He was being so nice that, on the surface, she couldn’t find fault with him. After he’d gatecrashed the garden party and she’d sent him away, he’d called round again a few days later to collect more clothes. He hadn’t tried to reason with her or begged for another chance. Instead, he’d quietly headed straight upstairs to pack, and Effie had sat on the sofa as he moved around the house, realising that she was counting down the seconds to when he would leave again. Only, it wasn’t because she wanted him to go. It was because she’d wanted him to stay.
She hadn’t been able to ignore his sincerity when he’d explained himself out in the garden. It was as if she’d seen a side to him she’d forgotten about. She’d seen Olly, the real Olly. He’d laid himself bare, stripped away his ego and put himself on the line. He’d explained that his anger and the battle to control it was like a disease. He had to work to control his anger in the same way an alcoholic or a gambler had to work to control the lure of their addiction. It could be fixed. There were men who’d moved on from being abusive to developing loving relationships, and there was no reason he couldn’t be one of them, at least, that’s what she’d told Lou.
She’d urged Effie not to take him back, not to fall for his spiel, and she’d even come round to try to talk her out of it, but Effie’s stubborn streak had stood its ground. She couldn’t turn her back on him. For better, for worse – she hadn’t said those vows for fun. He needed her help, and she didn’t want to be questioned about her motives for taking him back – not yet. Despite him being a picture-perfect husband since his return, there was a part of her that was still on red alert, and she didn’t want to be reminded of the possibility of it all blowing up in her face.
‘Maybe we could tackle the garden when we get back?’ Oliver said. ‘It’s starting to look like a jungle.’
It wasn’t. With its decking and super manicured lawn, it looked like something from the pages of a home and garden magazine. It was one of the things she loved about the house the most.
‘It’s too hot to be gardening,’ Effie replied.
She leaned back against the bench and stretched her legs out, watching a mother and daughter walk past with a Dalmatian on a lead.
Oliver leaned back too and bit into his cone. ‘That’s true. It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?’ He looked at her. ‘You’ve got chocolate sauce on your chin.’
‘Bloody stuff gets everywhere.’ She laughed and wiped it away with the back of her hand.
‘Like rice?’ Oliver grinned.
‘Yeah.’ She nodded, smiling, remembering their wedding day and how they’d clung to each other on the dance floor. ‘Like rice.’
‘You know, I was thinking. Maybe we should look at flights to Corsica soon. I haven’t seen Mum since the wedding, and it might do us some good to get away from it all.’
She’d been so excited when he’d suggested it on her birthday, but now she wasn’t so sure. Celeste Barton-Cole was razor sharp. Effie would bet money that she’d pick up on the underlying tension between her son and daughter-in-law, and the fact that they weren’t sleeping in the same bed wouldn’t help. Effie would either have to face questions about why or give in and take the step she was still reluctant to take. She might have taken him back, but it was conditional, and she wasn’t ready to be that close to him again yet.
‘What do you think?’
Effie puffed the air out in her cheeks. ‘I don’t know. It would be nice to get away, like you say, but it might be a bit too soon.’
Oliver looked away and nodded, his jaws twitching as he clenched them together.
‘Maybe in a few months?’ Effie added.
‘I guess you’re right.’ He looked back at her. ‘It’s just difficult, you know. I don’t w
ant to crowd you and make you feel under pressure, but I want you to see how serious I am about making this work.’
‘I know. But the best way of doing that is to let me take things at my own pace.’
‘Things are better, though, aren’t they? I mean, I know it’s early days and everything, but it feels right, doesn’t it?’
Effie looked away from his hopeful, cornflower-blue eyes. ‘It’s just going to take time.’
‘They told me that, at the classes. It’s really been amazing. It’s made me see myself in a whole new light. Crazy how something that happened half my lifetime ago could have had such a profound effect, isn’t it?’
‘It sure is.’ Effie nodded. She could understand that. She was still feeling the effects of her mum leaving, even now. ‘You know, I just realised. We were both fifteen when our family shit hit the fan.’
Oliver raised his eyebrows. ‘That’s right. It’s such a pivotal age too. It’s a surprise we’ve turned out to be as normal as we have.’
Effie laughed with a hint of irony. Normal was about as far away as it could possibly get. ‘I’ve never known what normal is like.’
‘I thought I did,’ he replied, draping an arm over the back of the bench and lightly stroking her arm. ‘I thought it meant just dealing with it, working, dating, going through the motions. Now I know I was just burying it.’
‘These classes sound really good for you. Have you told Izzy?’
Oliver snorted. ‘God, no. She’s so together in comparison. I just want you to know that it doesn’t matter how long all this takes,’ he said, lightly brushing a strand of hair behind her ears. ‘It won’t be easy, but even if it takes the next fifty years to prove it, you’ll see. From here on out, I’m going to be a better man.’
Cooking, cleaning, taking the wheelie bins out onto the street the night before collection day – Oliver did it all. If being a better man meant becoming the poster boy for the modern husband, he would have topped the list, and what was more, he did it all before Effie even had the chance to think about doing it herself. Later that evening, she looked at him as he came into the kitchen and washed his hands in the sink, having put the bins out.
‘You don’t have to do all the housework, you know,’ she said, careful not to sound ungrateful. ‘Don’t get me wrong – I’m not complaining. I just don’t think it’s fair for you to do all of it.’
‘I’m not. You’ve vacuumed the whole house, changed the beds, done the laundry, shopping and the cleaning this weekend.’ He dried his hands as he pointed out the chores Effie had completed on autopilot. ‘Anyway, it’s part of the programme I’ve been given.’
‘Cleaning is supposed to help with your anger?’ She raised an eyebrow.
‘It’s more that it’s a mundane task. It doesn’t take a lot of mental energy. I find it kind of therapeutic. I can think.’
‘Fair enough.’ She shrugged. ‘By the way, I’m not around for dinner tomorrow.’
‘Oh?’ He briefly looked at her before pulling some chicken from the fridge for dinner. ‘Going anywhere nice?’
He sounded like a hairdresser instead of her husband. It all seemed so formal, but at least he was sticking to the rules.
‘I’m meeting Izzy. She’s in town for a meeting, so I said we’d catch up. I haven’t seen her for ages.’
‘Oh, good. It’ll be nice for you two to spend some time together.’
‘Yeah.’ She nodded. ‘It will.’
He’d apologised for what he’d said about Lou, but Effie couldn’t help but wonder if his reaction would have been as placid had she said she was meeting with her friend instead. She’d watched his face for any hints of relief when she’d said she was meeting with Izzy, but he had a poker face that was second to none. Smith’s barbecue wasn’t far away, and Oliver most definitely wasn’t welcome. She’d find out if he’d make true on his promises soon enough.
When Izzy texted the address of the place they were to meet for dinner the next day, Effie had looked at the street name in the heart of the West End and assumed they’d be eating in a plush, high-end restaurant. After a long and frustrating day at work, she was looking forward to a bit of luxury, so when she stood outside their meeting place, she frowned, peering through the window. This couldn’t possibly be right. She double-checked the details in the text, and when she looked through the window again, she saw Izzy, sitting at a table, waving. Effie raised an eyebrow and stepped inside.
A man smiled at her from behind a glass counter holding raw diced chicken and lamb on skewers as he shaved strips from a lump of doner meat. The smell of frying onions and bacon hung heavy in the air, and Effie excused herself, shimmying past two heavy-set men waiting for their food.
‘It’s so good to see you.’ Izzy stood and hugged her before sliding back into her chair. ‘Isn’t this place great?’
Effie looked around as she sat down. The chairs were screwed down into the floor, and there were only five tiny tables, three of which were occupied by men tucking into enormous fry-ups.
‘I always come here when I’m in the area,’ Izzy said. ‘Their bubble and squeak is to die for.’
It was the last thing Effie would have expected to come out of Izzy’s mouth. For one thing, she barely ever saw her eat anything, and when she did, it was always bland. The first time she’d gone to their house with Oliver, Izzy had grilled a chicken breast with no seasoning and steamed some vegetables. It was nutritious, but it had been like swallowing cardboard. She’d since discovered that it was Tom who did the cooking in their house.
‘Bubble and squeak?’
‘It’s my guilty pleasure.’ Izzy grinned. ‘There’s nothing like a bit of comfort food every now and then.’
Effie looked at the laminated menu. There was nothing remotely wholesome on the list at all. When was the last time she’d pigged out on junk food? Her mouth flooded with the anticipation of bacon, sausage, fried egg and mushrooms. When the waitress came to scribble down their order, she ordered without hesitation.
‘How did your meeting go?’
Izzy beamed a smile across the table. ‘Amazingly well. I’m not supposed to say anything to anyone yet, but, well, it looks like you’ll soon be able to buy my products in Selfridges.’
‘No way.’ Effie grinned and squeezed Izzy’s hand. ‘That’s fantastic news.’
‘I know. The pitch almost killed me, hence the reason why I need some comfort food, and there aren’t many people I could bring to a place like this.’
Effie wasn’t sure if it was a compliment or not, especially after what Izzy had said at the New Year’s Eve party about her not being typical Barton-Cole standard.
‘Seriously, you can’t breathe a word of my meeting to anyone. Not even Olly. I want to wait until it’s one hundred per cent confirmed.’
Effie nodded and crossed her heart. ‘I promise.’
It was funny how things were turning out. Oliver and Izzy were close, but it was Effie who was in the middle of them both, holding their secrets. Izzy had no idea about Oliver’s anger management classes or why he had to take them in the first place, and he had no idea about her breakthrough Selfridges deal.
‘How is my little brother? I’m so pleased you’ve worked things out.’ Izzy clasped her hands together and smiled.
‘It’s early days, but so far, so good. He’s trying really hard. He really seems to want to make it work.’
‘Well, of course he does.’ Izzy rolled her eyes. ‘He loves the bones of you. Honestly, he was devastated, moping around the place. I don’t think I could have dealt with it for much longer.’
‘Thank you,’ Effie said, although she wasn’t entirely sure what she was thanking her for.
‘Oh, it’s nothing.’ She waved a hand in front of her face. ‘He’s a pain sometimes, but he’s my brother. He knows he’s always welcome – you both are.’ Izzy looked over Ef
fie’s shoulder and grinned. ‘Ooh, yes. Here it is.’
The waitress put their plates on the table, and Effie shook her head with a slightly stunned smile. Izzy’s bubble and squeak was piled high next to a portion of cold meat and Effie’s own plate held the biggest fry-up she’d ever seen.
‘Bon appétit,’ Izzy said and picked up her knife and fork. She took a mouthful and sighed, looking up at the ceiling. ‘Simply divine.’
It was all Effie could do not to laugh. With her super sharp suit, flawless hair and cut-glass accent, Izzy stuck out in the cafe like an inkblot on a white shirt.
‘So, what was it that made you change your mind?’ Izzy asked.
As far as Effie knew, Oliver hadn’t told his sister the real reason behind the rift in their marriage. She sliced into her sausage, skewered it with her fork and shrugged. ‘He came round and we talked. Or rather, he talked and I listened. I guess I just couldn’t give up on him. On us.’
She shrugged again, and Izzy nodded.
‘Marriage is for life,’ Izzy said. ‘Even after Mummy and Daddy divorced, they still tried to impress that on us. I think she’d suspected he cheated for a long time, but she let it slide until it got too much. After seeing how their divorce ripped the family apart, I decided I never wanted to be a divorcée, and I expect Olly is the same. Being married isn’t easy.’
Effie looked at Izzy as she loaded her fork, and wondered if she really did find it hard. As far as she could see, Izzy and Tom had the perfect life. They had great careers and a fabulous house, took multiple holidays a year and were more than financially stable.
‘I’d have thought it was easy for you. You and Tom seem to be in a permanent state of bliss,’ Effie said.
Izzy laughed. ‘God, no. Don’t get me wrong; we love each other, but sometimes he drives me insane. We’ve tried and failed to get pregnant, he’s got promotion after promotion and now he spends more time in the office than at home. My business has taken off better than I could ever have expected, and all my energy seems to go there right now instead of into my marriage.’ She shrugged with a smile. ‘There’s only so much a relationship can take before something has to give.’
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