The Runaway Year

by Shani Struthers

  Wrapping her cardigan around her, as it was slightly cooler than the clear skies suggested, she walked along the water’s edge, too. Salt spray stung her lips, and gulls circled round or rested on the rock named after them. As usual, childhood memories engulfed her. She had walked this route so many times with her mother, the two of them holding hands or pushing playfully at one another.

  Despite the sadness that had shrouded her heart since her father’s death, she had felt happy on those occasions, close to her mother. Away from here, though, back in the real world, back in Brighton, she had felt anything but. Angelica spread herself too thinly amongst too many people to be truly close to anyone. Being widowed so young seemed to have only temporarily taken the wind out of her sails. She had picked herself up with a vengeance, her suddenly massive appetite for life attracting the hordes, all eager to bask in her warm and inviting glow.

  Even now, coming up to her fiftieth birthday, she hadn’t slowed down, living it up in Milan with Giorgio, her paramour (as she dubbed him) of nearly three years. Angelica loved Milan, the ebb and flow of it, the sheer dynamism of the place. It suited her perfectly. Layla had flown out to visit her once, when her mother had first moved there, but the trip hadn’t been entirely successful, not for her anyway. New to Milan, Angelica had dazzled all Giorgio’s friends and family, her diary quickly becoming filled with social engagements. When Layla arrived, Angelica had barely a window left, and so, by and large, she was left to her own devices, a repeat performance of childhood. One afternoon, though, whilst her mother was busy lunching with some wives of Giorgio’s business associates, Layla at least had the chance to spend time with him. He, too, seemed slightly exasperated by how much Angelica managed to pack into a day, but fondly so; it was clear he adored her.

  A merchant banker, he was well off, and the apartment they lived in was wonderful, right in the heart of the city, just steps from the famous Piazza del Duomo, with cool marble floors, pristine white walls, and opulent furnishings. She had enjoyed her stay there but had come home having barely spent an hour alone with her mother in a week.

  They had spoken several times since, on the telephone, but they were only ever snatched, unsatisfactory conversations—Angelica was always en route to some function or other. The only time Layla had managed to garner her mother’s full attention was when she mentioned the move to Trecastle and even then, only for a few short seconds. Staring at the endless sea, Layla wished the mother that populated her holiday memories was here with her now. She missed her mum, but more than that she missed the relationship they could have had. She felt like an orphan and had done so for a long time. But she wasn’t an orphan. She had a mother, and she must remember that. Perhaps invite her to stay for a few days. Envisaging her mother dressed in clothes made for her by some young Italian designer and strutting down the streets of Trecastle made her smile. The village might never recover! Angelica would probably balk at the idea of coming back, but then again, she might not. It wouldn’t hurt to ask.

  Layla returned home just after five to find Joseph and Penny pulling up in his Land Rover.

  “Hey, Layla,” Penny yelled, winding down the window. “Have you finished working yet?”

  “Er, yeah. Yeah, I’ve been down at the beach, scribbling away,” Layla replied, her eyes slightly averted.

  Although the sandwich and crisps had made it out of the basket, the notebook and pen certainly hadn’t.

  “Great, ’cause I’ve got plans for tonight. We went for lunch after the waterfall, and it was okay, but the portions were miniscule. We’re starving, so I’m cooking dinner.”

  “What, for all of us?” inquired Layla, her heart sinking. Not at the prospect of Penny’s cooking, although that was bad enough, but of being in such close proximity to Joseph.

  “Absolutely,” laughed Penny, hopping down from the car. Turning to Joseph, she said, “You’re not busy tonight, are you?” It was more of a statement than a question, and before he could answer, Penny said, “Right, that’s settled. Let’s go inside, open some wine, and let the evening begin.”

  Layla entered her cottage first, followed by a reluctant Joseph and an exuberant Penny. Once inside, Penny went straight to the fridge, took out a bottle of white wine, opened it, poured two large glasses, and handed one to Joseph and one to Layla.

  “Aren’t you having one?” inquired Layla.

  “I most definitely am, but I need to pop down to the village first and get some ingredients.”

  And with that, she was off, leaving Layla in a state of abandoned horror. Whilst Joseph stared fixedly at the floor, she flicked through a magazine she had already read cover-to-cover, both of them keenly aware that the last time he’d been in this cottage one thing had led to another. After a while though, she couldn’t stand it; she had to speak.

  “So did you have a nice day?” she said, pleased at how nonchalant she sounded.

  “Yeah, it was good, thanks. And you?” he replied, also impressively casual considering the atmosphere was as taut as a stretched rubber band.

  “Yeah, I got quite a bit of work done,” she lied. “Almost finished another story for Izabel. Then I went for a walk along the beach. It was nice.”

  “Sounds good. Hopefully the sun will stick around for a while longer. There’s nowhere else in the world I’d rather be when the weather’s good.”

  “Me neither,” she agreed, their shared view easing the tension slightly. Taking advantage of the moment, Layla said, “Erm, look, if you’re busy working at the moment and Penny’s stopping you, just say, won’t you?”

  “It’s fine. She isn’t. I deserve some time off anyway.”

  “Yes, but if it’s a problem, let me know, and I’ll have a quiet word with her,” Layla insisted. “She won’t mind, not in the slightest.”

  “Like I said, it isn’t a problem,” he replied, equally as insistent. “I like spending time with Penny. She’s fun, uncomplicated.”

  Drawing out the last word of his sentence more than she thought was strictly necessary, Layla was incensed. She turned away, suddenly glad she had left some dishes in the sink earlier that she could attend to now. If he meant that in contrast to Penny she was complicated, she felt very insulted indeed. She wasn’t, not really. He didn’t know her well enough to imply such a thing. Besides which, he was hardly a walk in the park.

  Having finished the washing-up, she turned back to him and said, “Penny’s very friendly by nature, but that’s all she’s being: friendly.”

  “If you say so,” said Joseph, his manner irritatingly cool.

  Riled further, she continued, “And she’s married. You’d do well to remember that, too.”

  Looking directly at her, he said, “I know, but for how long?”

  Layla was stunned. Obviously Penny had wasted no time at all in telling her newfound confidante all about her problems with Richard.

  “She’s confused, that’s all. She and Richard are going through a bad patch, but they’ll make it. I know they will. He’s a lovely guy, perfect for her,” she emphasized. “She doesn’t need any more distractions.”

  “I think Penny should be the judge of that, don’t you?”

  Layla stared at him, the fury in her eyes more than a match for the defiance in his. Some part of her said he was baiting her, testing her reaction. There was no way he could be serious about hitting on Penny. But another part of her just wasn’t sure. Whatever his game was, she wanted none of it. She wished she could evict him, tell him to leave, but if she did, she would have to explain why to Penny, and that could prove problematic. Instead, she turned away again, banging and crashing pots around her, making it obvious she didn’t appreciate his remarks.

  Penny arrived back shortly after, out of puff from hurrying up the hill. “Right, pour me a glass of vino, Layla. I’m in dire need.”

  Without a word, Layla did as she was asked, pouring some more into her own glass whilst she was at it but pointedly ignoring Joseph’s. Her head was starting to hurt, and
she wished she could go and lie down, leave the pair of them to it, but that was the last thing she should do and she knew it. The frustrating thing was, deep down, Penny did love Richard and vice versa; they were just having trouble admitting it. And one good thing, he had been texting an awful lot lately. Her phone beeped almost relentlessly. If Joseph contributed in any way, no matter how small, to their marital problems, Layla would never forgive him.

  Penny busied herself, announcing with great flourish she was making spaghetti carbonara. Layla had no desire to tuck into a hearty bowl of pasta, but she’d have to make a token effort, keep Penny happy. And happy Penny was, laughing and cracking jokes, completely oblivious to the fact that neither of her friends were responding in kind.

  Halfway through dinner, which was surprisingly good, the telephone rang. Layla went to hunt down the cordless phone, eventually located it, said hello and came back into the kitchen, holding it out to Penny.

  “It’s Richard,” she said solemnly.

  Clearly surprised, Penny took the phone from Layla and went into the living room. Whilst she was talking, Joseph and Layla sat once again in uncomfortable silence. Penny returned a few minutes later.

  “I’m really sorry, Layla, but I’ve got to leave in the morning. Richard wants me to come home.”

  “Why? What’s the matter?”

  “It’s his father. He’s been taken into hospital. Suspected heart attack. Richard sounds upset. I think he’s been drinking. He said he missed me.”

  “Of course, he misses you.” Layla got up and hugged her. “He loves you. He’s lost without you, you know that.”

  She had directed her words as much toward Joseph as to Penny, but if they had any impact on him, it didn’t show.

  “Maybe,” said Penny, her voice quiet at first as though contemplating. Brightening after a few moments, she continued, “Still, there’s nothing I can do tonight. I’ve been drinking, I can’t drive. Let’s finish dinner, and then I’ll pack.”

  With that, she picked up her glass, shouted cheers, and loudly clicked her glass against Joseph’s and Layla’s, both of them mumbling less than heartfelt “cheers” in return. Although she was going to miss Penny—and she would—a part of her couldn’t help but feel relieved she was going, a feeling she held Joseph wholly responsible for.

  Chapter Fourteen

  IT WAS A SHAME she had to cut her holiday short by a few days, especially since she was enjoying herself so much, but there was no choice: she had to make her way back to Brighton and to Richard.

  He had sounded really upset on the phone. She prayed it wasn’t terminal with Bill. The powers that be had said “suspected heart attack,” not “heart attack.” Fingers crossed they’d got it right.

  Bill had been taken into the Queen Alexandra in Cosham, near Portsmouth, which was en route home, so she told Richard she would meet him there. His two brothers would be there also, traveling from the north of the country and the east, respectively. She had only met them once, at their wedding, and neither was as handsome as their eldest brother, one short and squat, the other with Richard’s features but more exaggerated somehow. She’d hardly met his father either, again at her wedding and once on his seventieth birthday. He seemed okay, chatty enough, a bit of a drinker she’d guessed from his reddened face and rheumy eyes. Richard had been awkward in his company, practically itching to get away. She knew he hated being quizzed about his childhood, but she couldn’t resist asking him on their second visit why they didn’t see Bill more than they did.

  “We just don’t get on,” Richard had replied curtly.

  “Do you mean you don’t get on lately or you’ve never got on?”

  “Never got on. Now leave it,” he had said, staring fixedly at the road ahead and holding on tight to the steering wheel.

  If they’d never got on, though, why was he so upset now? The news of his father’s illness had caused him to reach for the whisky, something he hardly ever did. Unlike his father, Richard didn’t drink much at all, the odd glass of red wine perhaps, a pint or two of beer on occasions. And on the nights she came home steaming, you could tell it riled him.

  As she joined the motorway at Southampton, Penny’s thoughts turned from Richard and his family to her days spent in Trecastle. It was a quaint but lively village, almost forgotten by time, although they had Internet access in the pub Layla worked in, at least. Her mobile signal had held up pretty well considering they were so rural, which was a mixed blessing. Dylan had literally bombarded her with texts.

  Hey, how’s the holiday going? Is it sunny down there? Done any surfing yet? etc., etc. One good thing: there had been no more mention of how sexy she was. They were more general texts, but it was a nuisance, having to give a running commentary of her daily activities. Eventually she had ignored him, but he still kept on sending, unable to take a hint.

  Layla had commented a couple of times on how often she received messages but believed her readily enough when she said it was Richard or a friend from work asking how she was. She’d have to have a word with Dylan when she got home, though, tell him to back off. If Richard found out, it really would be the end; she had no doubt about that.

  She was now just minutes from the hospital. Her stomach began to flutter at the thought of seeing her husband again, something it hadn’t done in a while. He had said he missed her on the phone, a sentiment which had sounded genuine enough, not merely whisky-induced. She had missed him too, but then she had done for ages—it was nothing new. Not that she had time to dwell on it. Joe had kept her too busy for that. What a lovely guy! So open and friendly, not to mention good looking. Shame Layla didn’t go for men like him, instead of idiots like Alex. Someone grounded and decent. That was the thing that amazed her about Layla: her taste in men was awful. For somebody so down-to-earth, she was easily dazzled by a bit of glitz and glamour, failing to see the falseness that usually lurked behind it. Those romantic books she favored didn’t help, filling her head with all sorts of nonsense.

  That argument they’d had, it had been dreadful, really bad. They had never argued like that in the entire ten years they had known each other. Thank heavens Hannah had managed to chivvy them up the next day, pulling them out of their respective sulks with her determined cheerfulness. If it wasn’t for her, they might still be ignoring each other.

  She was lovely, Hannah. A gentle, arty soul, the kind of person a village like Trecastle was made for. Jim matched her perfectly in temperament. And as for Mick, he was hilarious. She’d have to go back down again before Layla’s year was up, spend some more time with them.

  Parking her car, she rushed into the hospital foyer, looking around for Richard. There he was, buying himself a cup of coffee from a small kiosk and looking, she had to admit, even in stark hospital lighting, gorgeous in dark gray chinos and a slightly lighter gray cashmere pullover—every inch the off-duty professional. He must have sensed her staring at him as he looked up, straight into her eyes. Smiling, she rushed over and hugged him.

  “How’s your dad?” she asked. “Have you seen him?”

  “Yes.” He smiled back at her, relief evident on his face. “He’s going to be okay, apparently. This was more of a warning than a full-on heart attack. He needs to quit smoking, though, or he won’t be so lucky next time.”

  “And what about you?” she asked gently. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” he replied. Then almost shyly, he added, “Better for seeing you.”

  She squeezed his hand. “Come on. Let’s go and say hello.”

  Their hands entwined, they made their way to the lift that would whizz them up to the second floor and her father-in-law. As the doors closed, she felt her phone vibrating in her pocket. Thankfully she had remembered to put it on silent, resolving to sort Dylan out as soon as she possibly could. The future was beginning to look brighter with Richard; she mustn’t allow anyone or anything to derail them again.

  Chapter Fifteen

  THE OUTLOOK SEEMED QUIET and empty withou
t Penny. Layla had her work at the pub to occupy her, though, as well as her writing, which would keep her busy until Penny returned, maybe even with Richard in tow. If anyone could use a holiday, he could. Hopefully his father would be okay. Hopefully they would be okay. For Richard to have rung and say he missed her, even if he needed a few stiff drinks beforehand, was quite something. If they did manage to patch things up, how would Joseph feel? Not that she cared, of course. He had shown his true colors last night as far as she was concerned, proving himself to be about as deep as a puddle. One minute he was disappointed because she didn’t want to be in a relationship with him, the next he was all over Penny! He had seemed like such a nice guy at first, but it just went to show, you never could tell.

  In fact, Layla was seriously beginning to question her judgment of men in general. She had thought Alex was a nice guy too, underneath his sometimes flash exterior, but she couldn’t have been more wrong. She didn’t think of herself as gullible, but the evidence to support that notion was mounting steadily.

  At least the sunshine was something to smile about. So many people went abroad in search of hotter climes, but the weather on these western shores had been more than kind lately, lifting her mood with it.

  She had stuck the Nike slogan “Just Do It” onto the cover of her laptop, hoping it would inspire her to, well, just do it, she supposed. Get on with crafting more short stories and earning herself a bit extra in the process.

  Every night she charged her laptop, and in the morning, if the rain held off, she strode purposefully down to the castle to pound away at the keyboard, glad touch-typing was one of those “extra” skills she had opted to learn at college. Settling beside a favorite crumbling wall, a wall that once enclosed the Great Hall apparently, she would take a few minutes to drink in the view before firing up the computer. On the headland, yellow gorse vied with green tufts of grass for complete coverage, and seabirds swooped high and low in their endless quest for food. The sea was always the star of the show, though, a shimmering azure blue, hugging the ragged coastline.