‘I knew there was more to that particular madness.’
‘We just fell into hanging out with each other.’ I make it sound as if it was the easiest thing in the world and, in truth, it’s hard not to be at ease with Ned. ‘I got drunk with him and we built sandcastles on the beach.’ That night is etched so clearly in my memories that, if I think hard enough, I can still feel the sea breeze on my face and taste the salty night air. ‘I went to the Spring Oasis festival with him.’
Bill looks at me, blankly.
‘It’s a big deal on the Isle of Wight,’ I assure him. ‘Ned’s a lot of fun and made me laugh when there wasn’t a lot to find funny.’
‘I feel quite jealous,’ Bill says. ‘It seems he made quite an impression on you.’
‘He was there when I needed someone to take me out of my misery.’
‘Where I’d failed?’ My brother sounds sad.
‘No one failed,’ I correct. ‘Least of all you. It was just a horrible, horrible time.’
‘Did you . . . ?’ He looks at me, pained. ‘I can’t even bring myself to ask my little sister.’
He doesn’t have to spell it out. ‘Just the once.’ I’ve never hidden anything from Bill and I don’t want to start having secrets from him now.
My brother frowns. ‘That’s really unlike you, Jo.’
‘I know. I didn’t mean it to happen, it just did. He was there right when I needed someone’s arms around me.’ It was so much more than that, but how do I begin to explain that to Bill, or to Chris, or even to myself for that matter. ‘I like to think that I’m not the cheating kind and this is the one and only time I’ve ever strayed.’
‘You’ve been under a lot of pressure. It’s not hard to understand why you’re acting out of character.’
‘I don’t even know what my “character” is any more.’ I rub my fingers over my forehead. ‘I think it would have gone further, but then Chris turned up to bring me home.’
What would have happened? I know we’d have spent another night together and then what? Would I have begun a relationship with Ned? I like to think that I would never do that to Chris, but I honestly don’t know.
‘Have you spoken to him . . . this guy . . . since?’
‘Ned.’ I shake my head. ‘No.’ I let out a long, weary breath. ‘Since I’ve been back, I’ve done my best to forget him. I’m really trying hard with my marriage.’ And I am. It surely must be easier for Chris and me to work on our marriage than to throw it all away and start again? That’s not to say that I’m not beset with doubts. ‘I thought I was dealing with it.’
‘Until you saw him again?’
‘I didn’t expect it. I was so shocked to see him. And yet Eleanor Garten is right. Ned would be perfect for the project. I should have thought so myself.’ I think I’ve been trying so hard to push him out of my mind that it didn’t click until now. ‘His work is truly amazing. I’d love you to see it. You’d fall in love with it too.’
Bill gives me a wry glance.
‘Stop it,’ I admonish. ‘I’ve behaved very badly and I’m trying to making amends.’
‘Chris suspects, though?’
‘Yes. He’s said as much. We’ve both decided to put it behind us. I’m pretty sure he’d been seeing someone else at work – for quite some time. Meg’s my prime suspect. He hasn’t mentioned her at all and he used to talk about her all the time.’
‘A sure sign,’ Bill agrees.
‘We haven’t actually discussed anything properly, but I think that’s over too. He’s been very attentive since I got back. I couldn’t ask for more.’
‘You think you can patch it up.’
I look at Bill, bleakly. ‘I thought so.’
‘Can you work with this guy if we get him to do some stuff for the hotel?’ Bill asks. ‘His work did look like a brilliant fit. Or will it be too complicated? I can deal with him or there’ll be other sculptors we can approach.’
But no one quite like Ned. ‘Let me think about it,’ I say. ‘We’ve got time.’
‘You’ll be blown away by the site.’ Bill’s back in business mode. ‘I can’t wait for you to see it.’
‘Are we nearly there yet?’ I tease. He was always the one to be saying this as a child. He was the one impatient to be at our destination, just as he is now.
He keeps his eyes on the road when he says, ‘One last question. Do you love this Ned?’
‘I don’t know,’ I admit.
‘Actually two questions,’ Bill adds. ‘Do you love Chris?’
‘I don’t know that either.’
Bill reaches for my hand and squeezes it. ‘Life is short,’ he says. ‘You of all people know that. Don’t spend it with the wrong person.’
But that’s easier said than done, isn’t it. I’ve made vows to Chris, we have shared history, shared highs and lows. Our foundations have been rocked, but we can recover. Can’t we? I had fun with Ned – more than I should. I look at him, even in a photograph, and my insides liquefy, my heart yearns for him.
Yet last time I saw him, he was angry with me and I don’t know what else, if anything, he feels for me at all. Is that worth throwing everything away for?
Chapter Seventy-Seven
The site of the eco-hotel is right on the edge of the New Forest. Work has already begun and the main building is up to first floor level, so we can walk through the shell and get an impression of how the rooms will be.
The place is overrun by tradesmen and we dodge them as we go. Even though it is, literally, a building site, we can still tell where the huge windows will be, how the light will fall into the rooms.
‘It’s going to be stunning,’ I tell Eleanor. ‘You must be very excited.’
‘The place is cutting edge in terms of build and technology used to run it,’ she tells me. ‘If it goes as we plan, then we’ll roll out the same design and ethos worldwide.’
I make notes as we progress through the space. Then we go out into the grounds and walk down towards the towering, ancient trees of the forest. I remember that the last time I walked through the woods, it was with Ned at the festival. Now that my mind has been opened to him again, I can’t stop thinking about him.
‘Some of this is our land where it joins the forest. We’re planning to have tree-houses here. High-end luxury but, again, eco-friendly.’
I drag myself back to the conversation and try to concentrate.
‘They’re not on the design brief?’ Bill says.
‘No. We’ve not put that out to tender yet,’ she says.
Eleanor’s right, I think that it would be a wonderful job for Ned. I can just imagine him sculpting furniture to go inside too. ‘I’d like to have the chance to show you some ideas for those too,’ I offer. ‘My mind is spinning already with the possibilities.’
‘We’ve certainly liked what you’ve shown us so far.’ Eleanor seems very much to be a woman who knows what she wants. ‘I’ll send the details over when they’re finalised.’
My brain continues to whirr as we walk round the edge of the forest and they show us the planned sites for the tree houses – it flits from Ned to work and back until I feel quite giddy.
Thankfully, we’re soon wrapping up the tour but, before we leave, we take one final pass through the hotel.
When we return to our cars, Bill says to the directors, ‘Can we take you for some supper? We could reconvene at seven. I’ll book a restaurant of your choice.’
‘We’ll meet you back at Twitchell Grange later and eat there. Does that suit?’ It’s Eleanor who suggests it and her colleagues nod in agreement. ‘I’ll sort out the table.’
‘It’s fine by me,’ Bill says.
We all shake hands. ‘Until later.’
Bill and I watch them walk away, all smiles.
When they’ve gone, I sag against the car and Bill blows out a relieved breath. ‘I can’t tell you how much I want this project.’
‘It’s all about the chase with you,’ I tease.
He laughs. ‘You did well. Thanks, sis. Your ideas blew me away. They seemed to be suitably impressed too – as well they should be. Eleanor seems to be running the show and she’s definitely on board with your vision. I don’t know what that sea air did to you, but you’re definitely on your game.’
‘Maybe the rest did me good. You think we’ll get it?’
‘I hope so. It may come down to price, but it looks like they’re prepared to spend big bucks to achieve their concept. A project this high-end won’t come cheap. This will be their flagship eco-hotel. I don’t think they’ll cut corners. Have you done any costings?’
‘Not yet but, after seeing it all today, I have a better idea of where we’re going now. I really want to throw myself into this one. I’ve never felt so passionate about a project.’
We climb into Bill’s car. ‘We’ll head back to the hotel and work for a couple of hours until it’s time for dinner. You have stuff you can do?’
‘Always.’
Before he guns the engine, he says, ‘Thanks for coming back, Jo. The business is better with you in it. I don’t know what it is, but we just seem to spark off each other. Don’t run away again. Whatever you need, just talk to me, we can make it work.’
‘Thanks,’ I say to him. ‘I’m not out of the woods yet – which, I fully appreciate, is a terrible pun while we’re sitting in a forest – but I’m getting there.’
‘Good to hear it.’ Bill kisses my cheek. ‘Come on, let me buy you a huge gin. You deserve it.’
‘I’m not going to argue with that,’ I laugh and we head back to the hotel through the forest roads, dodging wild ponies on the way.
Chapter Seventy-Eight
While Bill works in the private sitting room, I go out in the garden to phone Chris. I find a bench beneath a tree that’s in blossom and settle in the shade.
‘Hey,’ he answers after a couple of rings. ‘How’s your day?’
‘Good. But we’re staying down here and taking the clients out to dinner.’
‘That means it went well?’
‘We hope so. They seemed to like our presentation.’
‘What time do you think you’ll be home?’
‘Could be midnight. Maybe we should have stayed overnight, but I haven’t got anything with me. It’s a long drive for Bill.’ I’d offer to share, but my brother is the worst passenger you can imagine. Control freak that he is, he needs to be in the driving seat. ‘You’ll sort dinner out for yourself?’
‘Yeah. I’ll probably stay late here too.’ I can hear the buzz of his office behind him.
‘I’ll see you later, then.’
‘Safe journey,’ he says and then hangs up.
I stare at my phone for too long. Sadly, I still don’t get the warm, fuzzy feeling I used to when I spoke to my husband. Now there’s just an emptiness where that should be. Will it ever come back? Can you force something like that?
Bill is focused on his MacBook when I go back into the sitting room and so I get mine out too. I try to look at work stuff, but my mind can’t settle. Seeing Ned up there on the projector has filled my brain with images of him and I decide not to fight it any longer. I wonder if he has a website. I’m surprised I haven’t done it before, to be honest, but I Google him now. I convince myself it’s work, research.
Sure enough, there’s a website and the same photo I saw earlier smiles out at me. My heart flips once more. This is bad. I manage to tear my eyes away from his face to scroll through the gallery of his work. Ned’s portfolio is more extensive and even more appropriate than I imagined. It would be great to work with him, but could I do it? Would it be wise? Even if he’ll agree to come on board, should I risk the contact with him? Should I get Bill to do it? Or, as my brother suggested, should we look at someone entirely different?
When I’ve looked through Ned’s site more times than I really need to, I Google wood sculptors and check out the top three that appear on the first page of searches. Their work is good, no doubt about it, but it doesn’t have the finesse or the magical quality that Ned’s sculptures do. Damn.
I hadn’t realised but Bill has come to look over my shoulder. ‘Not in the same league as golden boy,’ he says.
‘No.’
‘Want me to contact him?’
‘I don’t know. I’m trying to get that straight in my head. This is my project and I should be professional enough to run with it. Let me think about it?’
‘It’s just about time for dinner.’
I check my watch and Bill’s right. I don’t know where the time has gone.
So we head to the dining room to meet our clients again and have a productive and fun dinner. I like Eleanor; she reminds me a lot of Della. She’s a fun, feisty and no-nonsense person. I think I’m going to enjoy working with these guys – at least, I hope we get the opportunity to do so. The food in the restaurant is superb and the wine flows, for me at least. And, while they don’t come outright and say that we’ve got the contract, the directors of the eco-hotel are making all the right noises.
We’re both happy when we get back in Bill’s car and, accompanied by the sounds of Will Young for most of the journey, drive back to London. I close my eyes, letting the soothing music calm my troubled soul while Bill chats away, telling me of some new contacts he’s made, and I try not to think too much about Ned.
Chapter Seventy-Nine
It’s gone midnight when we pull up outside my apartment, but I see that the lights are still on.
I kiss Bill. ‘See you in the morning, big bro.’
‘I might not make it for the eight o’clock meeting,’ he says with a stifled yawn.
Yet I know that he will. It’s been a long day, but Bill has boundless energy and will be at work before any of us. I, on the other hand, might struggle a bit more.
I gather my belongings. ‘Well done. It’s been a good day.’
‘The best,’ he agrees. ‘Even if we don’t get the contract.’
‘We will,’ I assure him. ‘I feel certain of it.’ Then I get out of the car and wave as he leaves.
Letting myself into the apartment as quietly as possible, I tiptoe down the hall in case Chris has dozed off on the sofa. But there’s no one in the living room. There is, however, a bouquet of flowers in a vase on the kitchen counter – though still in their cellophane wrapping. They look like they came from a supermarket. I go to make a cup of tea and find two wine glasses in the sink, one of them bearing a lipstick stain. My heart goes cold. Meg?
‘Hey,’ Chris shouts from the bedroom as I’m staring at the glasses. ‘Come and say hello.’
I go through to him. He’s sitting propped up in bed with his laptop on his knees. ‘Sorry, I thought you might be asleep.’
‘Nah. Still working,’ he says. ‘Nearly done, though.’ He reaches for me and pulls me down to sit down next to him.
I frown when I ask, ‘Have you had company?’ I hate how suspicious that makes me sound.
‘Ah, yes. Della dropped by.’
‘Della?’ That wasn’t the answer I expected. ‘She knew I was going down to the New Forest today. Did she forget?’
‘No. She brought flowers for you as she knew today was a big deal.’
‘Oh, that’s nice of her.’ And unusually kind. Though it makes me smile to think of her in a supermarket. Definitely not her style. She’d normally get her assistant to phone an up-scale florist to deliver.
‘She stayed for a quick glass of wine. I’d only just got home.’
It’s unlike Della to pop in like that. She and Chris rub along when they have to, but they’re not exactly over-keen on each other. They both have strong personalities and tend to clash. Plus Della tends to have very little patience with the male of the species, anyway, and Chris does like to do a bit of mansplaining.
‘It all went OK?’
‘Yes,’ I say. ‘It couldn’t have gone better. We’re just waiting for them to give us the go-ahead now.’
‘You think they’ll choose you?’
‘I hope so. My designs really suited their plans. I gave it my best shot.’
‘Then you can ask no more.’ Chris’s lips find mine. ‘I missed you today. Come to bed.’
‘I’m just going to have a quick cup of tea and a shower,’ I tell him. ‘I feel dehydrated and crumpled.’
‘OK.’ Chris looks disappointed. Perhaps my husband has love on his mind, but it’s late and I’m tired.
‘Do you want some tea?’
He shakes his head. ‘Don’t be long.’
So I go back through to the kitchen and make myself some peppermint tea and down two glasses of water. The last thing I want for work in the morning is a hangover. While I drink my tea, I hold my sculpture tightly to my chest and sway with it as I look out over the street below. There are moments when I think that everything will be all right again, that I’ll slip back into my old life once more. Then there are other times when I feel like I’m living someone else’s life, when I want to be back on Sunny Days, watching the vast expanse of impossibly blue sky and feeling the sand beneath my feet.
When I hit the shower, my daytime euphoria is seeping away and melancholy has crept in once more. In the bedroom, Chris has settled down and is fast asleep, laptop still open on the bed. I tidy it away, slide in next to him and, though I know it’s wrong, I feel relieved that he’s not awake.
Chapter Eighty
Chris is grumpy when he wakes up and is stomping around the flat. Sometimes he’s best left to his own devices as he crashes and bashes his way out of a bad mood. Today it’s taking longer than usual. Every cupboard door in the kitchen is slammed. Everything is done with an accompanying huff. I find myself pussy-footing around him until I can bear it no longer.
‘Everything OK?’
He’s shovelling cereal into his mouth as if it’s his last meal while he stands at the kitchen counter. ‘Yeah.’ Furious munching.
‘Did you not sleep well?’
‘I slept fine,’ he snaps.
‘Is something at work worrying you?’
Sunny Days and Sea Breezes Page 27