Gritting her teeth and longing to shout I didn’t write that bloody email, she said instead, “Oh, we had a falling out, Alex and I. I lost my temper, hence what happened. It was stupid of me. I’m very sorry.”
“Of the two of you, I wouldn’t say you were the stupid one.”
She was taken aback by this, unsure how to reply. Thankfully the waiter appeared, saving the day as he placed an appetizer in front of them, a tiny espresso-sized cup of fish soup that really did whet the taste buds. The main course arrived soon after, also delicious. Jack tucked in too, their conversation thankfully switching to more mundane matters such as the beautiful weather they’d been having lately.
As soon as he had finished eating, however, he started again.
“I see Alex has got you to do his dirty work for him. He wants you to plead with me for the merger to go ahead, doesn’t he?”
Feeling really quite defensive, she said, “It’s not dirty work. I caused this trouble in the first place. I’m just trying to put it right.”
“But I’m actually grateful to you, Layla. I want to make that clear. That email was a godsend. It gave me the excuse I needed to distance myself from Alex, to buy some time. Everything was going ahead far too quickly for my liking. He’s a good businessman, I’m not denying it, but his integrity as a person, now that I find suspect.”
Ruffled by his words, Layla replied, “He has great integrity, I can assure you. He’s held in very high esteem by those in the industry.”
“Not me,” said Jack, reclining in his chair.
“Why?” she asked, not knowing what else he expected her to say.
“Because of the way he pestered my secretary, that’s why. A young girl, barely out of college, she was. Alex couldn’t seem to get it into his head she wasn’t interested. Every time he visited my office, he made a pass at her. The poor girl was distraught. Nearly ended up resigning.”
Whatever reason she’d expected him to give, it wasn’t that. “When?” she breathed, the impact of his words causing her hands to tremble. “When was this?”
“All last year.”
All last year? “That can’t be,” she protested. “We were together last year. That thing with Sarah-Jane, it was a one-off. He wasn’t unfaithful any other time. He couldn’t have been.”
“Ah, so it was Alex having an affair that prompted that email. I thought as much,” replied Jack, almost triumphantly. “And no, he might not have been unfaithful otherwise, but it wasn’t through want of trying.”
She looked up sharply at this, cut to the quick. “Why are you telling me this?” she asked, her voice low but even.
“Because I like you, Layla. Because I think you’re a talented young lady with a great future ahead of you, and because I think you’re blinded by him. Totally. He’s asked you to marry him, hasn’t he?”
“How do you know?” she asked, taken aback.
“He sent me an email telling me, that’s how. Perhaps he wants me to think he’s put his lecherous ways behind him—get me to reconsider the deal. I was pretty angry about his treatment of my secretary when she finally told me about him. I confronted him about it at the time.”
“And what did he say?” she asked, bracing herself for the answer.
“He laughed, said it was just a bit of fun, that’s all. Dismissed it, just like that. Harassing a member of my staff is not, however, in my opinion, a bit of fun. I told him if he continued, I would call the police.”
The police? That was going a bit far, wasn’t it? Then again, maybe not. The poor girl sounded terrorized. But Alex wasn’t a sex pest. There was no way she, Layla Lewis, would fall in love with a sex pest. No way.
“He’s changed,” she said. “He’s different now. He wants to settle down, have kids, the whole works. Yes, he’s asked me to marry him, but I haven’t said yes. I’ve told him to wait for me. If he can wait and wait faithfully, I’ll consider it.”
“Don’t do it, Layla. Don’t marry him. You’re too good for him.”
“Why?” she asked, her eyes blurring at his vote of confidence in her. All those years she had thought Alex was too good for her, and now someone was saying the opposite. “Why am I too good for him? And why do you care?”
“I care because I’ve got a daughter only slightly younger than you are. In fact, you remind me of her. I don’t know what your father thinks, but I’d be horrified if she brought home someone as flashy and arrogant as Alex. And if I knew he had cheated on her to boot, I’d take my shotgun to him, I swear I would. Have you ever cheated on Alex?”
“No, of course not,” she whispered, upset by the reference to her father. “I never would.”
“And that’s why you’re too good for him. I know men like Alex. In my line of work, they’re a dime a dozen. Drunk on their own power, believing the hype. I’ve seen them take impressionable young girls, chew them up, and spit them back out again, not once but over and over again.”
An impressionable young girl? Is that what I am? Another throwaway comment of his that stung.
“I’ve told you,” she shot back. “Alex is different now. He’s changed. His old ways sicken even him.”
“Layla—” Jack started, but she cut him off. She’d had enough “fatherly” advice for one day.
“Look,” she continued, “I’m grateful for your concern, really I am. I know you mean well, but I haven’t come here to discuss my private life. I’ve come here to discuss the merger. As you said, Alex is a good businessman. FarScapes stands to benefit as much as Easy Travel from the merger. Give him a second chance. Speak to him, at least. Please.”
“I don’t know,” he replied, looking, indeed, thoroughly perplexed.
“Jack?” she prompted.
Sighing heavily, he eventually answered. “Let’s get one thing clear: If it wasn’t sink or swim in the travel industry right now, this merger would not be going ahead. But as that’s the way things stand, maybe it will.”
“Maybe?”
“Maybe.”
“You’ll talk to Alex.”
“Get him to call me.”
“I will.” Then grappling for an excuse to leave, she said, “Gosh, look at the time. I have to go. I’m working a shift at the pub this afternoon.”
“The pub? But Alex told me you were in Cornwall conducting research into the holiday market.”
Oh, did he now? “Well,” she said, as bright and breezily as she could manage, “what better way to conduct research than from behind the bar of a pub. The locals, they’re a goldmine of information, you know.”
“Ah,” he said, nodding his head enthusiastically. “That’s what I mean when I say you’re a talented girl, Layla. You think outside the box. I like it. Are you sure you won’t stay for coffee?”
“No, thanks,” she replied hastily. “I really do have to go.”
And with that she backed away before turning and literally throwing herself out of the restaurant doors and into the street where she stood for a few moments, breathing in deep lungsful of air. Afraid he’d come after her if she lingered any longer, she started walking, slowly at first and then faster when she knew she was out of sight, finally kicking off her shoes and breaking into a run. It was not until she was behind the wheel of her car that she felt safe again.
Pulling out of the car park, the irony of what had just happened was not lost on her. Far from being a letch, as Penny had worried, it seemed Jack’s primary intention was to warn her of one.
Alex had pestered Jack’s secretary to within an inch of her life? Could it be true? Alex liked the ladies, but she had never witnessed sexually aggressive behavior before on his part, and she had worked with him for eight years. Then again, she hadn’t witnessed rejection, either. The women he set his sights on succumbed willingly. Her included.
No, Jack had to be wrong about this sexual harassment thing. But what if he wasn’t? Who the hell was she marrying—if she married him, she quickly reminded herself—a monster?
She almost choked on
the thought, and she strived to calm down. It wouldn’t do to become too emotional when driving, especially when trying to negotiate notoriously twisting, turning roads. Jack had to have got it wrong. Perhaps the secretary had been oversensitive or something, didn’t understand Alex’s sometimes cheeky sense of humor. Why believe them so readily over the man she loved?
Eighteen miles seemed like eighty. All she wanted to do was throw herself upon the sanctuary of The Outlook. She should phone Alex when she got in, tell him she had spoken to Jack as he had asked her to, that his answer regarding the merger had been maybe—the story of Alex’s life at the moment. Perhaps she’d hint about the secretary, test his reaction. Perhaps she wouldn’t. Even if it were true, it was the old Alex who was guilty, not the new Alex, the one who had come to her door so recently, cap in hand, begging her to take him back. The old Alex would never bow to anyone. It proved how much he had changed. That she had changed him. It went to show that no one was beyond hope.
Alex had said to put the past behind them, and that’s what she would do with this latest bit of information: leave it in the past, where it belonged. She wouldn’t confront him at all. She would give him the second chance he asked for. But no more, definitely no more.
Layla pulled up outside the cottage just as the rain began to fall. She hurried inside, praying she wouldn’t bump into Joseph and Clare en route. That would be the final straw, watching them disappear hand in hand into his cottage, ready to spend another cozy evening together, whilst she, as usual, faced the night alone. Hurling herself onto the sofa, she curled into a tight ball, trying not to think how complicated her life—and that of those around her—had become. How nothing was ever straightforward. At least Penny and Richard seemed to be okay again. That was one thing to be grateful for.
Finally deciding to switch on the TV, some Channel Four reality show in full swing, she felt her mind go numb and was thankful.
Chapter Twenty-One
THE REST OF THE SUMMER MONTHS passed quietly enough. Layla kept a low profile, mostly seeing Hannah, hardly seeing Joseph, and continuing to work hard at the pub. Both her twenty-ninth birthday and Joseph’s had been celebrated during this time, but not in each other’s company, something Layla couldn’t help feeling sad about. In between work and play, she continued to write. As well as having a short story published in an anthology entitled Where Spring and Centuries Begin… thanks largely to Rachel who seemed to be championing her at the moment, she’d had a poem, “The Awakening,” published in an online literary magazine. She was buzzing with her achievements, but when she told Alex about them on the phone, he had been dismissive to say the least, hardly commenting at all before returning to talk of Easy Travel. So different from Joseph’s reaction all those months ago.
If her writing wasn’t real to Alex, however, Easy Travel wasn’t real to her. It belonged to another lifetime, making it doubly hard to believe she’d be working there again in the not-too-distant future. She had just a few months left in Trecastle, not even three really, as she planned to leave mid-December so she could spend her second Christmas with Alex. Lenny hadn’t given exact details of his return date yet, but it was bound to be in January, a year from when he’d left, so The Outlook wouldn’t be empty for long. She would miss these four walls, though. Having felt so alien on her first night, they were familiar now, homey.
As Jack had promised, he had indeed spoken to Alex, and they were currently “in negotiations.” She didn’t probe further. She wasn’t really that interested, to tell the truth, which was strange, considering her future depended upon it. Alex seemed pleased with how things were progressing, though. She didn’t need to know much more than that. In fact, the less she knew about it, the better.
They were enjoying an Indian summer in Brighton, but in Trecastle the early autumn days were distinctly chill. Alex kept trying to tempt her back, especially over her birthday weekend, but she had said no, she was too busy. “I’ll compensate you for lost wages,” he had replied. Typical of Alex, no thought toward the people she’d be letting down if she didn’t work, just the money aspect.
And it was Hannah she’d be letting down if she didn’t work. Her paintings were selling really well, stunning seascapes in colors Layla didn’t even know existed in the artist’s palette, they were so vibrant. Layla was covering her shifts at the pub as much as possible, enabling Hannah to let herself be absorbed completely in her creativity. An absorption so all-encompassing, it was beneficial in a number of ways, she was sure.
Penny, she must phone Penny. They hadn’t spoken for a few days.
Dialing her number, she said, “Hey, Pen, it’s me. How are you?”
“Hi, Layla, great minds think alike. I was going to ring you later. I’m fine, thanks. A bit stressed but otherwise okay.” She did indeed sound stressed, her usually chirpy voice held a distinct edge.
Concerned, Layla asked, “Why are you stressed? Is it work?”
“Yeah, yeah, it’s work. You know how it is, a pain in the arse, as usual.”
Layla had no reason not to believe her. She knew Penny was sometimes just as bad as Richard, taking on board too much with work, so why was she doubtful? “Are you sure it’s work, Penny? Is everything okay with Richard?”
“Yes, things are fine with Richard, really,” Penny insisted, the edge getting sharper. “I’ve just got a lot on my mind lately, that’s all. Don’t worry, I’m dealing with it. Anyway, I don’t want to talk about me. How are you? More to the point, how is that delectable neighbor of yours?”
Oh, for heaven’s sake, why did Penny have to bring up Joseph every time they talked? It was like she was obsessed or something.
“I’m fine and he’s fine, as far as I know. I don’t see him much anymore, Pen. I’ve told you, he’s too busy with his new girlfriend.”
“Still going out with her, is he?”
“I presume so. Although I never see them coming and going; they must stay at hers a lot.”
Which was, of course, a relief.
“Where does she live?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Not in Trecastle, that’s for sure. But there are plenty of villages round and about.”
“And it doesn’t bother you that he’s got a girlfriend?”
“Er, no, of course not. Why do you ask?”
“Just wondered.” Penny was a touch too mysterious for Layla’s liking. “How’s Alex? Spoken to him lately?”
“Just yesterday, in fact,” she answered before swiftly changing the subject. She didn’t want to speak to Penny about Alex either; she was too disapproving. “When are you coming down again? I miss you.”
“Hopefully soon. I’ve got a week owing, so it’s not a problem. Just got to see a project through I’m working on at the moment, setting up an after-school club for the children of single working mothers, then I’ll be down. Another couple of weeks, I suppose. I’ll let you know nearer the time.”
“Don’t leave it too long, Pen, or I’ll be coming home with you at this rate.”
“Not a bad idea,” said Penny, and Layla could tell she was smiling, looking forward to having her back in Brighton again. “Look, I’ve got to go. Speak to you soon. Say hi to Joe for me when you do see him.”
“Okay,” she replied, feeling exasperated again at the mention of his name.
Passing a momentary glance over her laptop, Layla decided to make a cup of tea. Why had Penny asked if she minded Joseph having a girlfriend? What a stupid question. Surely Penny still didn’t think she had some sort of secret crush on him. She’d done everything in her power to alleviate her of that particular notion. Good job she’d never told her what had really happened. Penny would be relentless if she had.
Just as she sat back down at the table, the phone rang.
“What?” she said crossly.
“Hello, dear, it’s your mother.”
“Oh, sorry, Mum. I thought it was Penny. We’ve just been talking on the phone.”
“I see, how lovely. Anyway, darling, jus
t a quick call. How are you?” Before she could answer, her mother continued, “Do you know, I’ve been feeling ever so nostalgic about Cornwall and the time we used to spend there. How is life in Trecastle? Do you love it or hate it?”
A bit of both at times, she thought. “It’s fine, Mum. It’s good. I enjoy my work in the pub, and I’ve been writing again, even had several short stories published whilst I’ve been down here as well as a poem, so it’s certainly bringing out my creative streak.”
“Well done, darling, well done. I never knew you were good at writing.”
Forgotten all about the competition I won when I was sixteen, then? she wanted to ask. “I don’t know whether I’m good or not, but I’ve always loved it. I used to spend a lot of time in my room writing when I was younger.” Unable to keep a note of sarcasm from creeping into her voice, she added, “Remember?”
Either ignoring the jibe or not noticing it, Angelica replied, “Good, good. You’ll be glad to know all is well in Italia. Giorgio is wonderful, spoiling me as usual. How are things with you and Alex? It is Alex, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is,” said Layla. How many times in the last year and a half had she mentioned Alex, but still her mother had to ask? “It’s a shame you never made it over to Trecastle, you know. We could have had fun. I’ve only got a short while left before I return to Brighton.”
“Oh, I know, darling, and I would have loved to have flown over. A trip down memory lane does appeal. But my social diary, it’s crammed to the point of ridiculousness. Giorgio says I’m a martyr to it all, and I am, it’s true. Still, you’re there for a few more weeks if I should find a window, aren’t you?”
“A few, yeah,” sighed Layla, thinking, You won’t find a window. Not for me.
“And how’s Connie? Do you see her much?”
“I haven’t seen her, no. She doesn’t live here anymore.”
Hannah’s mother had moved to Exeter six years ago to live with an ex-dairy farmer. They were very happy together, apparently. Hannah visited every month, and Layla covered her shift whilst she did so.
The Runaway Year Page 17