by Karen Swan
They watched him as he stormed out of the kitchen, doors slamming behind him in the distance.
‘What is bugging him?’ Kelly asked, palms up. ‘It was an innocent enough question. He nearly bit my head off!’ She looked back at Cassie, who replied with a ‘who knows?’ shrug. ‘It has to be something to do with Lacey. Men only get like that over a woman,’ Kelly mused.
‘Mmm, probably,’ Cassie agreed nervously. He looked ready to explode. ‘Don’t worry about it today. He’ll be fine. They’ve probably just had a fight. They’ll patch it up.’
‘I guess. By the way, did you see Anouk when you were upstairs?’
Cassie shook her head. ‘No. Has she not been down for breakfast?’
‘Not while I’ve been in here.’
Cassie thought for a moment. Hearts didn’t heal in a day – she knew that better than anyone.
‘I think I might know where she is,’ she said, getting up and pulling on a pair of wellies that were standing by the door. ‘Get Bas started on your hair and I’ll bring her straight up to you.’
‘Would you? Because she hasn’t tried her dress on yet, and if it needs to be taken in . . .’
‘It’ll be fine. Hattie makes all her own clothes – she can help with last-minute alterations, as long as she gets back from the hospital in time. I’ll send Anouk up,’ Cassie said, shooing Kelly out of the kitchen.
She waited a moment before picking up the phone and booking a taxi to deliver the flowers from the station. She didn’t want Kelly overhearing her. The prospect of no flowers was up there with no groom in Kelly’s perfectionist world.
Five minutes later, she was wandering past the greenhouse and rose garden, up towards the small hillock that bumped up like a rucked-up rug in the far corner of the estate. There was an ancient oak tree at the top with a giant swingseat strung from one of the huge branches which had been ‘their place’ when they had escaped here for home weekends. It sat right at the boundary of the Sallyfords’ land and swung out over a sudden drop that made you feel like you were being catapulted across to the other side of the valley.
She listened to the chatter of the swooping swallows above her, trying to talk herself into a lighter mood. Henry’s coldness, Wiz’s barbed comments . . . the animosity directed at her in the past twenty-four hours had sapped her, when all she really wanted to do was enjoy this day with her friends.
Everything else was in order. It was an idyllic summer’s day, pale blue skies dotted with whipped clouds and just a hint of breeze to make the women’s skirts rustle and the feathers quiver in their hats.
As she approached, she saw Anouk’s slight figure on the swing seat. She was leaning forwards, her head in her hands, and looking just like Cassie felt.
‘Mind if I join you?’
Anouk looked up and Cassie saw instantly that she’d been crying. ‘Oh, hi,’ she said, quickly wiping her face with her sleeve. ‘Sorry, I was miles away.’
‘Yes, I could tell,’ Cassie said, sitting down on the bench. ‘Kelly’s sent me after you. She wants to check your dress still fits.’
‘Ah . . . I’ll go in a minute. I just need to . . .’ Her voice trailed off.
Cassie nodded, understanding completely. The tears hadn’t dried yet.
‘How is she this morning, anyway?’ Anouk asked, dabbing her nose lightly with a tissue.
‘Eerily calm.’
‘Scary.’
‘Yes.’
They fell into rhythm, kicking their legs in unison, and the bench swung a bit higher.
‘You will get over him, you know,’ Cassie said quietly after a while.
Anouk looked at her hopefully. ‘You think so?’
‘I know so.’
‘Are you over Gil yet?’
Cassie hesitated. ‘Not fully. It’s difficult not having answers to the questions in my head: When did it start? Did he ever love me? I only know what I’ve pieced together myself, and that’s just assumption. It leaves room for doubt.’ She looked at Anouk. ‘Which is dangerous.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Doubt allows you to still have hope.’
‘And the only way to really get over him is to lose all hope?’
‘I think so,’ Cassie nodded.
‘Well,’ Anouk said in a flat voice. ‘I’ve definitely lost that.’
Cassie looked away and they sat in silence for a few moments, watching a herd of Jersey cows grazing in a field on the opposite side of the valley. Low, intermittent moos could just be heard on the breeze.
Anouk’s phone buzzed in her pocket and she checked the caller before pocketing it again.
‘Who was that?’
‘Guillaume.’ Anouk shrugged. ‘He keeps calling. He probably wants to arrange dinner, but I’m not ready to socialize at the moment.’
Cassie shot her a look that clearly showed she disagreed.
‘What?’
‘Nothing.’
‘No, say.’
‘Well, maybe he’s ringing because he’s got a reason to be hopeful.’
Anouk looked at her, puzzled.
‘Haven’t you ever noticed the way he looks at you? Whenever I looked at him he was always watching you.’
‘Non!’
‘Oh yes.’
‘But we are just friends.’
‘Only because you’ve probably never given him a chance to be otherwise. You’ve been so hung up on Jacques all this time, you haven’t noticed that Guillaume adores you.’
Anouk looked at her in amazement. ‘But . . .’
‘And he makes you laugh. And he’s gorgeous.’
Anouk stared at her, and Cassie could tell the idea had clearly never crossed her mind. She reached into the pocket of her silk shirtdress and pulled out a slim packet of cigarettes. Lighting one, she blew out a plume of smoke, her eyes fixing on a blackbird in the branches above.
‘Guillaume, huh?’ she murmured after a while, the smallest of smiles beginning to play upon her lips, a pink tint warming her pale cheeks, a chink of light switching on behind her eyes.
She turned to Cassie devilishly. ‘Well, if we’re going to share insights . . .’ But her expression changed in a flash.
‘Merde!’ she murmured, looking past Cassie’s shoulder.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘Over there.’
Cassie followed the line of her gaze. Henry was marching over the lawn towards them, his arms swinging like a soldier’s. He seemed angrier than ever – and from the figure hastening to keep up behind him, she knew why.
Chapter Forty-Nine
‘Here she is,’ Henry muttered as he showed Gil to where Cassie and Anouk were sitting. Henry was dressed only in his morning-suit trousers – no shirt, no shoes – though from what Cassie had seen of his mood over the past eighteen hours, she didn’t think his temper stemmed from having been interrupted as he was getting dressed.
Cassie stood up abruptly. ‘Gil . . .’
‘Cass,’ he said, his voice quiet and soft, his eyes skimming her like water. He was wearing his favourite charcoal suit and carrying a black leather briefcase. In contrast to Henry, who was unshaven, unkempt and undressed, he looked immaculate, and not a little ridiculous to be suited and booted in the midsummer sun as if he was ready for court.
The four of them stood in awkward silence, nature making all the noise around them. All eyes were on Cassie.
‘Well . . . I’d better get back to Kelly and try my dress on,’ Anouk said quickly, realizing that nothing was going to happen with an audience. ‘Are you okay if we leave you, Cass?’ she asked, touching her friend on the arm.
Cassie didn’t respond for a moment. She tried to focus. ‘Oh. Yes . . . yes, of course.’
Anouk shot Gil a withering stare and walked towards Henry, who was still rigid and highly coloured. ‘Come on, Henry.’ She took his arm but he didn’t appear to notice. His muscles were bulging with tension – rigid and rock-hard. ‘Come on,’ she said, pushing him gently.
&n
bsp; He looked down at her, then back at Cassie and Gil. ‘Right,’ he muttered darkly.
Cassie swallowed hard, clutching her arms around herself as she watched them walk away and leave her alone with her husband. It had been one thing bracing herself to see Gil when she’d had an eight-hour train ride to gee herself up and the element of surprise on her side. It was quite another being tagged back twelve hours later.
‘I didn’t expect to see you,’ she said quietly.
‘Wiz told me you’d stopped by.’
Stopped by? A twenty-hour round trip wasn’t what she called stopping by. ‘It wasn’t a social call.’
Gil looked away as though he hadn’t heard. ‘Impressive view.’
‘Yes.’
He turned back to her. ‘Could we possibly sit for a moment and just . . . talk?’
‘Fine.’
They sat down and watched the countryside play. The swallows were still diving through the sky, the cows plodding through the sweet grass, poppies and forget-me-nots swaying like hula dancers in the breeze.
‘How did you know I was here?’
‘I asked Mrs Conway.’
Cassie smiled. Of course! She had mentioned the wedding by way of excuse when the housekeeper had asked whether she’d be staying the night.
‘I brought the papers with me.’
‘I guessed. But you didn’t need to bring them yourself,’ she said. ‘You could have just posted the paperwork to my solicitor.’
Gil looked at her, his usual cool scrutiny replaced with a kernel of panic. ‘I had to see you in person. I needed to be sure that you think it’s . . . the right thing.’
Cassie arched an eyebrow, quizzically. ‘Are you saying you don’t?’
‘I don’t think it’s straightforward, no.’
She inhaled slowly. Henry had been right, then. ‘So you have been playing semantics with my solicitor.’
‘I had to. No one would tell me where you were. Kelly and Anouk and Suzy hung up on every call I made. And when you didn’t contest the pre-nup . . .’ He shrugged. ‘There was nothing to stop it all just going through. You never gave me a chance to explain.’
‘What possible explanation could there be?’ Her voice had an edge to it.
He was quiet for a minute, the way he was in court when he stood to address the jury for his summing up. But there was no clever get-out.
‘I know I can’t justify what I did,’ he admitted. ‘There is no justification. But I never set out to hurt you. It was never planned. Not me and Wiz. Certainly not Rory.’ He put his fist to his mouth and cleared his throat.
‘He’s a glorious little boy,’ Cassie said quietly. ‘You’re very lucky.’
Gil nodded. ‘Yes.’
‘So when did it begin? You and Wiz.’
He swallowed nervously and looked away. ‘When you went back to Hong Kong to stay with your mother.’
‘After Daddy’s funeral?’ Shock suffused her voice.
‘Yes.’
Cassie winced, doubly pained that he should have begun an affair whilst she mourned her father. ‘It was Wiz who encouraged me to stay out there,’ she said shortly, looking at him. ‘She must have known it was going to happen between you both.’
Gil shook his head. ‘I never planned it. I swear. It just . . . happened.’
‘Isn’t that what all adulterous husbands say?’ she asked wryly. She was almost disappointed by the cliché.
‘I took you for granted, Cass. I know that now. I underestimated what we had, and I neglected you.’ He looked at her meaningfully. ‘And it was deeply wrong of me to deny you the child you craved.’
Cassie focused on a calf following its mother around the field, but her lip trembled at the admission. Cupcake’s birth had brought all the old longings back to the surface again.
‘I miss you, Cass.’
She felt his fingertips brush her forearm lightly, so lightly it could have been a dandelion puff floating past on the breeze, and her skin goosebumped at the realization that she was back in the game. It had never occurred to her that he had seen her departure as anything but a relief, and her self-esteem had been obliterated as a result. So to discover that he wanted her still . . .
Henry had foreseen it, but she hadn’t. She’d been so sure he’d delayed the divorce because he didn’t want his ‘unreasonable behaviour’ on record, that the good Fraser name must be upheld above all else. Her taunt to Wiz had been nothing more than an opportunistic hit. She’d not for a minute thought there was any truth in it.
She looked over at him. His arm was stretched across the back of the seat, and there was a gentle smile on his face. He wasn’t some monster living a double life who’d crushed her with his careless appetite, as she’d preferred to believe during her darkest moments. He was the man she’d always thought he was – only fallible.
‘You seem younger somehow,’ he said in a low voice, taking in the swell of her bare breasts beneath her vest.
‘Do I?’ She thought back to London and Henry – just three days ago they’d been eating bacon rolls at the top of St Paul’s as London stirred from its sleep, wild swimming in gold, kissing in the street . . . It was all behaviour that you could classify as ‘younger’. Or as more alive.
‘You look incredible. So different.’
‘This is nothing. You should have seen me in Paris,’ she remarked, rolling her eyes.
‘You were in Paris?’
She smiled at the way he said ‘Paris’. Even if she ever got over him, she knew she’d never get over his voice.
‘Are you with anyone?’
The question surprised her. She stroked the bare chain around her neck and wondered if he could sense her sexual awakening. Her relationship with Luke and her kiss with Henry had left her with a certain – if, as yet, unexploited – sense of her own sex appeal. ‘I was.’
He fell silent.
‘So then maybe I did you a favour after all,’ he said, the jealousy clear in his voice. ‘Paris, boyfriends . . . It sounds like it’s been a good year.’
Cassie looked at him. ‘The best and worst of my life,’ she said, confirming and confounding his fears all at once. ‘I’ve known much lower lows since leaving you. And higher highs than I ever knew with you. None of it’s been easy.’
She shifted position so that she was sitting side on, facing him. He was pushing them both gently with his feet, and she felt the breeze lift her hair off her neck. In the distance, on the up-swing, she could see the caterers carrying trays of glasses to the marquee, Anouk having a cigarette on the terrace. She could see Henry on the grass tennis court, still half-dressed, hitting the bejesus out of the tennis balls being pumped out of the serving machine.
She looked back at Gil – tailored, immaculate and correct. ‘It’s so strange,’ she murmured, taking him in. ‘My life has been turned upside down and inside out. But when I look at you, you’re just the same. Same suit, same shoes, same shirt . . . I’ll bet you’re wearing the red-hooped socks, aren’t you?’ They both peered down and saw the red trim peeking beneath his trousers, and as she looked back up, she glimpsed a discreet newly bald patch through his hair. She couldn’t stop a fond smile – absolutely everything Gil did was discreet. Even balding. ‘You’re just exactly the same as I remember.’
‘I’m still the man you fell in love with.’ His eyes pinned hers, his voice laced with regret – and promise.
‘What time is it?’ she asked, quickly changing the subject. She felt unsure of herself, could feel herself inching towards forgiveness, back towards the comfort and safety of their old life.
‘Nearly eleven. Why?’
She gave a little gasp and jumped up. ‘I have to get ready! Kelly will be going frantic.’
‘But we haven’t . . . there’s so much more we need to say.’ He grasped her hand in his. ‘We need more time, Cass.’
Cassie looked down at his hand. It covered hers completely.
‘I won’t sign those papers, Cass, until I’m convin
ced that this divorce is what you really want. And at the moment – I’m not,’ he said boldly, encouraged by her hesitation. ‘We were married for ten years. We owe it to ourselves to keep talking.’
Did they? Did she really owe him anything at all any more? They had been married a long time, but what he had done could never be erased. Could she learn to live with it all – be stepmother, not godmother, to Rory, slip back into her old life and all its comforting familiarities? It wasn’t as if there was anything in her new life to keep her away. No job, no home . . . no man.
She looked at him pensively. There wasn’t time to discuss it further now; she had to get back to the house. She could contemplate her divorce during the wedding. ‘Well, you’re pretty much dressed for the occasion,’ she said finally. ‘I’m sure Kelly won’t mind if you come as my Plus One.’
He clasped her hand even tighter. ‘Thank you,’ he said earnestly.
‘Don’t thank me yet,’ she said quietly, but even she wasn’t convinced by what she heard in her own voice.
‘Where have you been?’ Kelly shrieked as she popped her head round the door. ‘We’re leaving for the church in twenty minutes!’
‘I keep telling her the church is ten yards down the lane. She’ll be far too early,’ Bas muttered, putting down his brushes and coming towards her.
‘Hello? Photographs?’ Kelly rolled her eyes with her hands on her tiny hips. She was clearly in need of beta blockers now. She was wearing a tiny La Perla bra and flimsy knickers, and Cassie sent up a little prayer, hoping to God Suzy didn’t walk in. This was the last thing she needed to see a day after giving birth.
Bas took one look at Cassie’s shaky expression and threw his arms around her. ‘How are you, Teabag?’ he murmured, squeezing her tightly.
Cassie nodded into his shoulder and they both knew it wasn’t good.
‘Come,’ he said, propelling her towards a chair in front of the mirror and spritzing her hair. ‘First things first.’
‘What happened with Gil?’ Anouk asked as Bas began tonging the back sections of her hair.
She was already wearing her mocha silk dress. It had a dropped waist and wrapped loosely around her, draping into soft, thirties-style folds. It had a Chanel chic to it, but equally was a forgiving cut for Suzy, who was still supposed to be filling it out with a bump. Suzy’s was the next tone down in caramel, Cassie’s down a hue again in butterscotch.