When You Walked Back Into My Life

by Hilary Boyd

  Flora threw her arms in the air. ‘But what can I do? Short of breaking off with the man I love, I can’t see how to pacify her.’

  They both looked at her sympathetically, but neither came up with any suggestions.

  ‘And don’t say she’ll come round. I’m sick of hearing that.’ Her voice rose in frustration.

  ‘I’m sure you are. But the truth is she probably will.’

  ‘Whatever.’ Flora knew she sounded like a sulky teenager. ‘So … your professional advice is to ask him and hope for a light sentence?’

  ‘Yup,’ Philip replied with an encouraging grin. ‘That’ll be two thousand pounds please.’

  ‘Cheque’s in the post.’

  *

  ‘I’m not bloody coming to your sister’s birthday just to be her whipping boy. Forget it. Not going to happen.’

  Flora had met up with Fin at the supermarket after his physio appointment. He looked flushed and exhausted, gulping from a bottle of water as they walked along the aisles.

  ‘So you want to be left out of all family gatherings, despite the fact that we live together now?’

  Fin twisted his mouth, wiping his hand back over his unruly hair, still damp with sweat.

  ‘No, but what’s in it for me? She’ll just give me the ice-queen treatment; Philip will make jolly conversation about suicidal sopranos while treating me like one of his defective clients; Bel will look tortured. What’s the point? They all loathe me.’

  Flora stopped pushing the trolley and turned to face him. ‘The point is that they’re my family … for better or worse. And at some stage you and Prue are going to have to make it up.’

  ‘Tell her that. I have no problem with any of them. It’s her who’s digging her heels in.’

  They stood looking at each other for a moment.

  ‘Anyway,’ Fin went on, ‘I don’t have any clothes to wear. You can’t go to some poncey gaff in a ten-year-old T-shirt and frayed jeans.’

  Flora laughed. ‘Oh, I don’t know. Nobu’s kind of rich international blingy types: Russian oligarchs, Saudi princes … they often wear jeans.’

  ‘Yeah, designer ones, with a naff crease down the front and a pink sweater tied over their shoulders.’

  ‘Can’t wait to see you dressed like that!’

  They both began to laugh.

  ‘But seriously, you could go to the charity shop on Notting Hill Gate and pick up a good shirt for a fiver.’

  Fin pulled a face. ‘Loathe charity shops. They smell of old people.’

  ‘Don’t be cruel. Anyway, there aren’t any old people in Notting Hill, except the rich, scented variety.’

  She began pushing the trolley again and they walked in silence.

  ‘Please … please come. I don’t want a situation where Prue thinks it’s OK to leave you out of everything.’ She picked a couple of tins of plum tomatoes off the shelf. ‘I don’t want to go on my own.’

  Fin harrumphed. ‘OK. I’ll come. But I’m warning you that I’m not going to make nice if she starts to pick on me. I don’t care if it’s her birthday, I’ll just get up and leave.’

  ‘And the shirt? I’ll come with you if you like. We can go after this.’

  ‘If I must,’ he gave her a grin as he pulled her against him and ran his hand down over her bottom, bending to kiss her on the lips.

  ‘Stop it,’ she hissed, trying to wriggle out of his grasp, looking to see if anyone had noticed.

  ‘Relax, Flo. Nobody’s looking.’

  He held on tight, kissing her again, a deliberately long and lingering one.

  CHAPTER 12

  31 October

  ‘So. I spoke to Dominic. And he says the sewing table had water damage along the back. That’s what made it sell for so little.’

  ‘Water damage?’

  ‘Did you notice it? All along the back panel, he said. It was quite badly warped.’

  ‘Sorry, I didn’t look at it closely. He never mentioned that at the time. But it was crammed by the window, so I suppose, if someone left the window open, it could have got wet. He took it so suddenly …’

  She heard Rene give one of her long-suffering sighs on the other end of the phone.

  ‘I wish you’d stopped him. I could have checked it myself.’

  ‘I can’t really challenge him,’ Flora replied, stung by the criticism.

  ‘No, no. Of course not. I didn’t mean to get at you, Flora. I just don’t like him making off with her things like that.’

  ‘Maybe there was water damage?’

  ‘Maybe. Anyway, there’s not a lot I can do about it.’

  ‘Unless there’s proof,’ Flora said.

  ‘Unless, as you say, there’s proof.’ There was another heavy sigh. ‘Tell me about Dorothea. How is she today?’

  *

  The shirt that they’d found in the charity shop was a Ralph Lauren. It appeared to be almost new: a fine, soft cotton, very pale blue with a button-down collar.

  ‘You look great,’ she said, as Fin emerged from the bedroom looking self-conscious.

  ‘Well, I feel a dick,’ he said, pulling at the sleeve to do the cuff button up.

  ‘Why? It’s just a shirt.’ Flora had also tried to persuade him into a pair of black trousers in the charity shop, but they were way too short for his long legs. He had on his newer pair of jeans now, the bottoms of which were not yet frayed.

  He finished doing the button up and suddenly noticed Flora. ‘Wow! You look stunning.’

  She smiled shyly. It was only the black dress again, but Fin hadn’t seen it before.

  ‘Are we sharing a taxi with them?’

  ‘No, they’ve gone on earlier. Philip’s taking Prue to the new cocktail bar at Brasserie Zédel. I think we’re all hoping if she downs a couple of martinis it’ll grease the wheels.’

  When they arrived at the restaurant, the other three were already there. Philip got up when he saw them and pulled out the chair next to him for Flora.

  ‘Happy Birthday,’ Fin said to Prue as Flora bent to kiss her sister.

  ‘Thanks.’ Prue eyed them both up and down. ‘You look smart.’ The surprised note in her voice wasn’t entirely flattering.

  The swarm of chic, grey-uniformed staff hovered around them, pouring water, swishing napkins onto knees, handing menus.

  ‘How was the journey?’ Philip asked, a look of concern on his face as if they’d trekked from Outer Mongolia to be there.

  ‘Fine, we got the bus.’

  Silence.

  ‘Great.’

  Bel’s head was buried in the menu.

  ‘What’ll you both have to drink?’ Philip again.

  ‘What have you got?’ Flora asked her sister, checking out the pink, fizzy concoction in her tall glass. ‘Looks good.’

  Prue waved her glass at her. ‘It’s delicious … have a taste.’

  ‘Love the necklace,’ Fin smiled charmingly at her sister, who patted her new necklace lovingly.

  Prue had obviously had enough alcohol to make her forget she should be cross with him, and she smiled back. ‘Can’t go wrong with Tiffany. I love every single thing in that shop.’

  ‘Pity I didn’t know that earlier,’ Philip said. ‘I’d have settled on a key-ring and saved myself a whole heap of money.’

  Prue pouted at him. ‘Meanie. No one sees a key-ring.’

  ‘I’ll have your Ralph Lauren one then, Mum.’ Bel giggled as she sucked her Coke through a straw.

  ‘In your dreams.’ Prue looked at Fin. ‘But I see Mr McCrea has upped his game and gone for a touch of Ralph himself this evening.’

  Fin looked down at his shirt. ‘Like it? Cost a fortune.’

  ‘Yes. Suits you. You look quite handsome.’

  Is she flirting with him? Flora caught the look that passed between Prue and Fin with disbelief.

  ‘The climbing industry must be doing well,’ her sister added.

  ‘That, or the charity shop business,’ Fin replied, and they all laughed.


  ‘So far, so good,’ Bel said, as she and Flora made their way to the Ladies’ later.

  ‘I know. Not quite what I expected.’

  ‘Mum’s drunk.’

  ‘That doesn’t always make her so benign.’

  ‘True. And it may not last.’

  Bel was right, it didn’t. When they got back to the table, the three were sitting in total silence. And it wasn’t a companionable silence; each face was rigid and constrained.

  ‘Pudding anyone?’ Philip asked, waving the dessert menu at his daughter. ‘Bel?’

  ‘Er … I’m OK Dad.’

  ‘What? Not even an ice cream?’ her father cajoled her, but she shook her head.

  ‘Couldn’t.’

  Prue wasn’t even looking at the menu, just fiddling with her BlackBerry – a rudeness at table that Flora knew she abhorred, and was always nagging Bel and Philip about.

  Fin suddenly got up. ‘I think we should get going Flo.’

  But before she had a chance to respond, a waiter appeared, phalanxed by three more, bearing a plate with an exquisite meringue cake, decorated with delicate sprays of fruit, candles lit in a circle around the centre. As he placed the cake in front of Prue, all four waiters began to sing ‘Happy Birthday’.

  Flora wished the floor would swallow them all up, but she’d underestimated her sister. Prue’s expression was instantly transformed to one of surprised delight. She held her hands clasped before her like a child, her eyes sparkled, she beamed at the waiter and his pals, at the family round the table, as if this was the most thrilling moment of her life. The rest of them joined in weakly, sheepishly – even Fin, who had no option but to sit down again. Flora kicked him under the table to get his attention, but he just shot her a blank look.

  Prue blew the candles out and handed the cake back to the waiter to cut up.

  ‘Thank you so much. How wonderful. It looks completely delicious,’ she crooned. But as soon as the table staff had moved away, her face shut down again.

  ‘Lucky we didn’t order pudding,’ Philip said.

  ‘Well, presumably you knew they were bringing a cake.’

  Philip looked at his wife, raising his eyebrows just a fraction. ‘I didn’t, actually. Darcy booked.’

  ‘Who’s Darcy?’ Bel asked.

  ‘The woman whose house your mother’s doing up. She’s friends with the owner of Nobu and got us the table at the last minute. Normally you have to book months in advance,’ Philip told her.

  The cake was served. They ate in silence. Prue didn’t even touch hers. Flora struggled with a few mouthfuls, but the atmosphere turned the feather-light meringue to dust in her mouth.

  Prue suddenly pushed her chair back, gathered her bag from the floor. ‘I’ll meet you downstairs,’ she said, and swept out of the room.

  Once they were out on the pavement, Fin offered an abrupt thank you to Philip, nodded good night to Bel, and, grabbing Flora’s arm, dragged her off down the street towards Piccadilly.

  ‘Bitch,’ Fin muttered, still clutching her arm. ‘She waited till you and Bel weren’t there, then just laid into me.’

  ‘What did she say?’

  ‘Usual snippy bollocks … “Why can’t you just leave my sister alone … you’re just using her because it’s convenient … as soon as your bloody leg is OK, you’ll be off, breaking her heart again … she’s totally in thrall to you, you realise that, don’t you, so it has to be me who speaks out … she never will.” That’s what she said.’

  Flora, appalled, digested this for a moment. ‘That’s … horrible,’ she said, subdued.

  ‘Flo, we should just get away. Bugger your sodding job, I can’t stay another night under that woman’s roof. She sees me as some ligger, taking advantage of you, and you’re my poor abused victim. I just can’t stand the sight of her.’

  ‘Calm down, please, Fin. We can’t just leave—’

  He interrupted her. ‘Why not? Why can’t we? The old lady will be fine. If you were ill she’d have to find another nurse. Say you’re ill, just leave. We could get an early morning train and be out of here for ever. Sod your fucking sister.’

  Flora pulled him to a standstill. They were outside the RAF Club on Piccadilly, in amongst the tourists milling round the Hard Rock Café on the corner. She pushed him to the side, against the railings.

  ‘Fin, I am not leaving my job. And I am not just walking out on my family.’

  He stared at her coldly. ‘OK. Well, I guess that tells me. Your sister’s never going to accept me, so if they’re more important to you than I am, then I don’t reckon we’ve got much of a future together.’

  Flora felt her heart lurch uncomfortably in her chest. ‘Stop it. Don’t say that. You know how I feel about you.’

  ‘Do I? Do I really? I say I love you a hundred times a day, but you haven’t said it once. Not once. You’ve said you’re “committed” to me, but that’s not the same at all. Do you love me, Flo? Do you?’

  A couple walked past, the man eyeing them curiously. She stared him down and he turned away.

  She swallowed hard. ‘Yes … yes, I do. You know I do.’

  ‘But? I hear a but.’

  ‘But nothing. Except I feel … just that it’s all happening so fast.’

  ‘So you agree with Prue, that I forced you to let me move in? Christ!’

  ‘No … no, that’s not what I said. I just mean I’m not ready to leave my entire life yet. It’s too soon.’

  Fin shook his head. ‘Well, I’ll tell you this for free. I’m not staying in this fucking city a second longer. There’s nothing for me here.’

  Flora felt close to tears. His cruel tone bit into her like a physical wound, made her want to run away, just leave him there on the pavement and forget she’d ever seen him again.

  ‘Can we not do this … please.’

  They both stood stiffly, two wooden statues, the solid exterior belying the turmoil throbbing beneath the surface. Then his arms were round her, holding her in a powerful embrace. His mouth was buried in her neck, kissing her skin, whispering in her ear until she was dizzy with it. ‘Oh, Flo, forgive me. Forgive me, darling. I love you so much. I didn’t mean a word of what I just said. I was angry, upset at Prue attacking me like that. Of course I’ll wait, I’ll never leave you. We don’t have to live in Inverness if you don’t want to. We can live anywhere, as long as it’s in the fresh air, where I can breathe. Flo, Flo, say you forgive me.’

  She rested wearily in his embrace, the fight gone out of her. ‘Take me home,’ she said.

  *

  Sunday morning passed without either of them saying much, both of them still shell-shocked from the previous evening. But Flora knew she had to square it with the others before she could have any peace of mind.

  ‘I’m going up,’ she said, late morning.

  Fin raised his eyes from the paper. ‘I’ll come with you.’

  ‘No … I’d rather do this alone.’

  But Fin got up. ‘We’re in this together. I’m coming whether you like it or not. Otherwise Prue will always play one of us off against the other.’

  So they both trailed reluctantly up the stairs to the main house.

  Prue was alone in the kitchen, reading the Sunday Times on the polished worktop, a cup of coffee and her BlackBerry at her side.

  ‘Hi.’

  ‘Hi.’ Flora sat down on the opposite side of the island. Fin hovered behind her.

  ‘Where are Bel and Philip?’

  ‘They’ve gone swimming.’

  ‘Can we talk?’

  ‘Fine.’

  Flora detected a slight hesitancy, an uncharacteristic nervousness in her sister’s face. There was no sign of the anger of the previous night. She wondered if Philip had given her a dressing down.

  Then Flora realised she had no idea what she was going to say. All sorts of accusations and blame that had been churning about her brain all night sprang to her tongue, but she firmly rejected them. In the end she just blurted out, ‘I lo
ve you. I can’t bear this … arguing with you.’

  She watched as her tough sister’s eyes filled with tears. ‘And I love you too.’

  Flora felt Fin go very still behind her, as if he was holding his breath. Then his hand slowly came to rest on her shoulder.

  ‘Please, can we talk this through, try to resolve our differences?’

  Prue shook her head wearily. ‘There aren’t really any differences, except that I’m terrified you’ll be hurt again. And worrying about it is making me crotchety.’

  Flora got up and went to her sister. She put her arms around her, and for a while they just stayed like that. Flora could feel the tension gradually leave Prue’s shoulders.

  Fin spoke: ‘I promise, from the bottom of my heart, that I will never do what I did to Flo three years ago. Never. You have my solemn promise.’

  Prue looked up at Fin, letting out a long breath.

  ‘You can trust me,’ he added, leaning earnestly across the marble towards her.

  Prue shrugged, gave him a small smile. ‘I certainly hope so.’

  ‘The last thing I want is to take her away from you all, that was never the intention.’

  ‘Alright …’ Prue reached for Flora’s hand, clasped it tight. ‘OK. Well … I’m sorry for being a cow, but my sister means everything to me. I was only trying to protect her.’

  ‘I understand. Really I do.’

  ‘Phew! All this soul-baring is a bit exhausting, eh?’ Prue got up. ‘Shall we celebrate?’ She opened the fridge door and drew out a bottle of the inevitable Prosecco, waving it at Flora and Fin.

  ‘Love some,’ Fin said.

  Flora would have liked to just crawl downstairs and go to sleep for a week, but she smiled and nodded, hugged her sister again and went in search of three glasses.

  *

  ‘I could do Friday … then Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday if you like.’

  Mary was checking the pages of her pocket diary.

  ‘Are you sure?’ Flora counted the days. Six. Alone with Fin. Out of London. She took an excited breath. ‘It would mean three days and four nights without going home. What will you do with Millie?’

  Mary winked. ‘I’ll bring her here. I’ve done it before, remember, and Dorothea adores her.’