The Runaway Year

by Shani Struthers

  Walking into “Penny’s Room,” as Layla had dubbed it from the start, she said, “Right, there’s plenty of hot water. Why don’t you relax in the bath whilst I pop down to May’s to stock up. I’ve only got one bottle of wine left. I think we’ll need more than that.”

  “One bottle of wine?” said Penny in mock outrage. “Layla! You’d never have allowed stocks to run so low in Brighton. This country air, it must be addling your brain.”

  “You could say that,” mumbled Layla before plastering a big smile on her face. “Is pasta okay tonight?”

  “Pasta is perfect, and don’t forget to grab a ton of chocolate as well. I’m on holiday. The diet can go to hell.”

  The light was just beginning to fade as Layla walked down to the village, although complete darkness, that strangely still Cornish darkness that she was still getting used to, was some way off yet. Buoyed by Penny’s arrival, she was feeling slightly more optimistic. She and Joseph were adults; surely they’d be able to put what had happened behind them. Yes, it had been intense, she couldn’t deny it, but it had been a fleeting intensity, and she’d probably exaggerated the whole thing in her mind afterward anyway, her newly-revived creative streak going into overdrive.

  They hadn’t parted on the best of terms, though, that was the problem. He’d seemed distinctly pissed off, but hopefully he wouldn’t be for long. He had told her several times being single suited him. Why change his mind now? Being single suited her too. If she couldn’t have Alex, she didn’t want anyone.

  Passing the local primary school on her right, its tiny playground silenced by the weekend, she entered the village proper, turning left toward May’s. In the air, the smell of fish and chips reigned supreme, Uncle Davy’s Cabin gearing up for the supper-time rush. As she walked along the narrow pavement, she was unable to resist, yet again, mulling over the previous night’s events. What had possessed her to kiss him? She hadn’t even known she was going to do so until she found her lips locked on his. She’d also been the one to drag him to the bedroom, having her wicked way with him before promptly declaring the whole episode one big mistake. Even by the most liberal of standards, she’d behaved badly. And she couldn’t even blame the drink; she hadn’t consumed so much as to warrant her brazen behavior. But why had she behaved so badly? That was the question. A question she had asked herself hundreds of time since but still had no answer to.

  Completely lost in thought, it took a while to register someone was calling her name from outside the shop. It was Jim, a carrier bag of groceries cradled in his arms. Always happy to see him, she started to wave, her hand freezing in midair when she noticed someone else coming out of May’s and falling into step behind him. Joseph!

  “Layla, hey, how are you?” cried Jim as he rushed up to greet her.

  “Fine,” she managed to croak.

  Seeing Joseph had thrown her into turmoil. She knew she had to see him again—of course she did—but this was too soon. Way too soon. She could feel his eyes on her, searing her, but try as she might, she could not meet them, memories of their encounter last night too vivid in her mind. Praying she was the only one to notice she was shaking like an alcoholic denied his life’s blood, she honed in on Jim instead.

  “So where are you off to?” she asked, attempting nonchalance.

  “Just grabbing a few beers and heading back to the flat. Fancy joining us?”

  “No,” she replied far too quickly and far too loudly. Forcing herself to remain calm, she endeavored to explain. “My friend Penny’s just arrived. I’m picking up a few things from the shop, and then I need to get home. She’s waiting for me.”

  “Oh, right, Penny’s here at last,” drawled Jim. “We’ll probably be moving off the sofa later, going to the pub. Hannah’s working tonight. Bring her down. We’ll all be there.”

  She had intended to do that very thing, take Penny to the pub on her first night and introduce her to everyone. Not now, though. Now she wanted to get as far away as possible from the pub and everyone in it.

  “No, we can’t, not tonight,” Layla said, desperation building up inside her again at his persistence. “We haven’t seen each other in ages. We need to catch up. Soon, though.”

  “You bet. We’re having a bit of a gathering tomorrow night. Has Hannah told you? Herald the start of summer, that sort of thing. Bring her then. It’ll be good to meet her at last.”

  Layla realized resistance would be futile. “Yeah, Hannah did mention something about it. That would be great. Tomorrow night is great.” Remembering her manners, she added, “She’s looking forward to meeting you too, of course.”

  “About nine, then, round at ours?”

  “About nine,” she agreed, defeated.

  Satisfied, Jim continued on his way, but Joseph didn’t move. He simply stood where he was, blocking her escape route into the suddenly comforting depths of May’s. Knowing she couldn’t stare at his chest any longer, she managed, with monumental effort, to lift her head and acknowledge him. “Hi,” fell rather pitifully out of her mouth.

  “Strange,” he said. “I thought you wanted to remain friends.”

  “I do,” she replied, hoping she sounded suitably earnest.

  “Act like it, then,” he said, pushing past her, but not before she had time to notice the hurt in his eyes and disappointment too, she was sure of it.

  As he continued walking, the word damn played on repeat in her head. She swung round to look at him, wondering whether to rush after him and try to make amends, but decided against it. She doubted anything she had to say at this precise moment in time would be constructive; she would probably just dig herself into an even deeper hole.

  She switched to autopilot and rushed round the store, throwing pasta, tinned tomatoes, a few motley looking vegetables, and a couple of bottles of wine into her basket before paying for them and sprinting home, the need for sanctuary more frantic with every step. Entering the cottage, she was relieved to find that Penny was still upstairs, snatches of the latest Kelly Clarkson song floating down from the direction of the bathroom.

  Placing the carrier bag on the kitchen table, she leaned against it, wondering what on earth she was going to do. He had seemed appalled by how she had reacted to him, and rightly so. Being ignored was horrid at the best of times, let alone the worst. She knew that.

  The party, she thought, an idea forming. I can explain then. She would seek him out as soon as she arrived and apologize profusely. Hopefully he’d understand, although understand what, she didn’t know. She understood none of this herself.

  Her mind made up, she filled two glasses of wine and took them upstairs. She’d make some excuse as to why they weren’t going out tonight, say everyone was busy or something. Maybe Penny wouldn’t mind too much. Quickly she’d announce Hannah was holding a party tomorrow, which would go some way to appeasing her. Penny had never met Hannah before, or Jim. She hadn’t been around the week they came to Brighton; she had been in the Maldives with Richard or perhaps it was Mauritius, somewhere exotic, anyway. Penny was always saying how much she wanted to meet them, but it could wait. Just another twenty-four hours. That’s all she needed. Another twenty-four hours to plan what she was going to say to Joseph, to rehearse it in her mind and then deliver it to him pitch perfect.

  Chapter Ten

  “LIEBFRAUMILCH?” PENNY LOOKED AT THE BOTTLE in horror. “What the bloody hell are you doing buying Liebfraumilch?”

  “Did I?” replied Layla, surprised. “Sorry, I wasn’t concentrating.”

  Quickly downing the first glass of wine, she advised Layla to do the same. “The next one will be better,” she promised. “By the time we’re on our third, it’ll taste as good as Chablis.”

  Penny gulped whilst Layla sipped.

  Muttering almost to herself as much as Layla, she added, “Never mind, at least we’ve got plenty of chocolate.”

  “Oh, chocolate!” Layla’s hand flew to her mouth. “I forgot.”

  Forgotten chocolate? Crikey,
things were bad.

  Penny had been at the cottage a mere couple of hours, but already she could tell something was wrong with Layla. It was as though she were only half present, the other half trapped in a dark and distant place. Penny had asked if everything was okay, and Layla assured her it was, but Penny could tell she was lying. She always could with Layla.

  Strange, she thought, taking another gulp. Layla seemed really happy when I spoke to her yesterday.

  Penny knew Layla had taken the split with Alex badly; it was why she was here. Because of that idiot, she had to travel nearly three hundred miles just to see her best friend. But lately, it had seemed as though Layla were on the mend. She was starting to sound increasingly upbeat during their phone calls; it seemed country life suited her. But something had happened in between speaking to her on the phone yesterday and seeing her today. What, though? And why wouldn’t she say?

  Penny stared surreptitiously at her friend. She really did seem to be lost in a world of her own, sipping at her wine and looking really quite despondent. Was it Alex? Was he on her mind? Was he ever not on her mind? How would she react to what Penny had to tell her? She’d keep quiet about FarScapes, that much was decided. But what about Alex’s insistence he cared for Layla. Should she labor the point or gloss over it?

  Penny wasn’t even sure she believed him. She still thought he seemed far more concerned with his company than Layla. Maybe his fancy words were just a ploy, to get himself back in Layla’s good books so she could dig him out of whatever trouble he was in with Jack Thomas. And once Layla had fulfilled her function, he might very well abandon her again. Then what? How would Layla react a second time? Three hundred miles might not cut the mustard then. She might move three thousand miles away, maybe more.

  Then again, Penny admonished herself, perhaps she was being overprotective. Layla was a big girl, capable of making her own decisions. She really shouldn’t take it upon herself to decide her future. Trouble was, there was a vulnerable streak in Layla. A vulnerability that brought out Penny’s otherwise dormant maternal side. Oh, God, what should she say?

  “What is it, Penny? What’s the matter? Is it Richard?”

  Bugger, thought Penny, here goes.

  Pushing her wine glass aside, she answered, “No. No, it’s got nothing to do with Richard. Nothing at all.” After a brief pause, she continued, “Guess who came to see me a few days ago?”

  Layla shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly. “Who?”

  “Mr. Big Boss Man himself, that’s who. Alex Kline.”

  Splattering a mouthful of wine everywhere, Layla demanded, “Alex came to see you? Why?”

  “To find out where you’d gone, of course,” she replied. “Why else?”

  “You didn’t tell him, did you?” squealed Layla in alarm.

  “Of course not,” countered Penny. “What do you take me for?” Nervously, she asked, “That was the right thing to do, wasn’t it?”

  “Absolutely.” Layla banged her glass down on the table, wasting yet more of its contents. “I want nothing more to do with him.”

  “My thoughts exactly,” said Penny, relieved she had guessed right.

  Layla dragged the back of her hand across her mouth and looked at Penny, her green eyes intent and a slight catch in her voice as she said, “So, come on, then, what did he say?”

  Fiddling with her rings, Penny hesitated once more. She really didn’t want to be the one to stir things up between them again. Alex was no good for her, but it was obvious Layla’s love for him hadn’t diminished, judging by her dramatic reaction. Love was a strange thing; Penny didn’t need telling that. Never black and white, it came in so many shades of gray, something making itself crystal clear to her lately.

  Richard and she hardly talked any more. Sometimes “pass the salt” was the only communication between them for days. Their relationship was at an all-time low. Which was why she had been stunned when, last night, he had woken her in the middle of the night, like he used to do so often once upon a time, and they had made love, sweet and tender, without words or the need for them. She had been going to refuse him at first, push him away, say something like I don’t bloody think so, but changed her mind as his arms wrapped round her, the need to hold him close a surprisingly desperate one. When she had woken the next morning, he had already left for work, leaving her wondering if she had dreamed the entire thing.

  Soon after, she had left for Trecastle, which was just as well. It would give them breathing space. Clearly he still felt something for her, deep down, under layers and layers of anger and resentment. That had been the first time they had come together since Dylan. Was he finally beginning to forgive her? More to the point, could she forgive him? Not for Diane Tyrrell—she didn’t believe he was having an affair with her any more than she believed England could ever win the World Cup, but for making her suffer so badly for one mistake, one really-not-that-big-in-the-whole-scheme-of-things mistake.

  Taking a deep breath, she started to reiterate to Layla what had happened, being careful to leave out any references whatsoever to Easy Travel and FarScapes. She told her Alex had split with Sarah-Jane Johnson, that it had been a “moment of weakness”—his words, not hers—and that he missed Layla dreadfully. That one day soon he would find her, he had been adamant about it, to explain his behavior, saying that “she would understand.” Again his words, she pointed out, not hers.

  By the end of Penny’s account, Layla’s face was the color of milk. When she finally spoke, all she said was, “He’s got cheek!”

  “So what are you going to do about it?” prompted Penny gently.

  “Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Let’s see if he’s man enough to turn up on my doorstep. He certainly didn’t bother when I was in Brighton. Until then, I’m not going to waste another minute thinking about him.”

  Although Penny knew, just as Layla did, that this was a complete lie, they drank to it anyway. After finishing both bottles, they went upstairs. While she was getting ready for bed, Penny’s mobile beeped.

  “Is that Richard?” called Layla, slipping into her pajamas.

  “Er, yeah,” replied Penny quickly. “Just saying goodnight.”

  It wasn’t Richard at all, though to be fair he had texted earlier to make sure she’d arrived safely. Another sign he still cared. It was Dylan.

  Nite, sexy. Can’t wait to see you again. D x

  Penny texted back, a little uneasy.

  Nite.

  She had meant it when she’d told him she only wanted to be friends, no more kisses. He had seemed happy enough about it. She especially meant it since last night with Richard. Was “Nite, sexy” just a throwaway comment, typical of his cheeky personality, or did it signify he didn’t believe her, that he had intentions she didn’t want him to have?

  “Why don’t you sleep in my room tonight?” suggested Layla, coming up behind her and interrupting her train of thought. “There’s plenty of room.”

  Choosing the throwaway comment option, she smiled in agreement, and they climbed into the king-size bed with its antique metal frame.

  “Hey,” Layla said with a giggle, “the room’s spinning.”

  “Just like old times,” agreed Penny, giggling too.

  Chapter Eleven

  IT WAS JUST AFTER ELEVEN when Layla woke the next day. Penny was snoring softly beside her until she received a friendly dig in her ribs and awakened. They chatted a bit before heading downstairs, launching straight into lunch as breakfast was long gone.

  “I’m really excited about tonight,” Penny said as she munched happily on a cheese and pickle sandwich. “Getting to meet everyone at last.”

  “Yeah, great,” replied Layla, her lack of enthusiasm blatant.

  Wrapped up in her own thoughts, Penny was oblivious to her mood. “Are you going to eat that or just push it round your plate forever?”

  “Take it if you want it. I’m not hungry.”

  “Lovely, thanks. I’m starving.” Penny leaned over and grabbe
d it before Layla had a chance to change her mind.

  Penny needn’t have worried, though. There was no way Layla could eat a thing. If she did, she’d be sick, she was sure of it. The thought of facing Joseph again was making her want to run and hide, take refuge in one of those endless caverns down at the beach, emerging weeks later when the memory of what they’d done had faded into history. But, of course, she’d do no such thing. She would face him like the grown-up she was, keeping her troublesome inner teenager firmly under wraps.

  It was raining heavily outside, so they decided to spend the rest of the day lolling around. Later that afternoon, Layla showed Penny the short story she had sent to Izabel, shyly explaining it was for a magazine seeking to publish new talent. Penny had duly read it, making all the right noises in all the right places, but Layla could tell she wasn’t interested, her mind preoccupied with what she was going to wear later.

  “Jeans will be fine,” sighed Layla eventually, even though Penny hadn’t asked her. “No one dresses up around here.”

  “All the more reason to do so, then.” Penny smiled mischievously. “I want to make an impression.”

  “Oh, you’ll do that all right, Pen. It doesn’t matter what you wear,” replied Layla with a roll of her eyes.

  Evening arrived far too quickly as far as Layla was concerned, and Penny had spent well over her allotted time in the bathroom. Whilst Penny was soaking herself at leisure, Layla sat patiently in the kitchen, letting a mug of tea go cold as she belatedly replied to a few emails.

  Deciding enough was enough, she shut her laptop, poured the tea down the sink, and went upstairs.

  As she passed the bathroom door, she shouted, “Hurry up, Pen. I need to get ready too, you know.”

  “Just a few more minutes. This bubble bath you’ve got—Celestial something—it smells divine,” Penny shouted back.

  Layla shook her head and went into her bedroom—or the scene of the crime as she now regarded it—and studied her reflection in the mirror. To her dismay, her face was as gray as an old bed sheet. Not surprising really, considering how nervous she felt. She longed for a glass of wine to instill some bravado in her, false or otherwise, it didn’t matter, but decided against it. She needed complete control of her faculties tonight.