An Autumn Affair

by Alice Ross

How many times had they done this as teenagers? Too many to recall, Julia decided, as Max trailed kisses down the side of her neck, turning her insides to warm honey.

  ‘Just tell me when you want me to stop,’ he murmured softly.

  How about never? Julia wanted to reply.

  ‘Tell me if I’m going too far.’

  Nowhere near far enough, Julia resisted saying.

  Despite her shaky start to the evening, she’d never felt more languid in her entire life. Max had typically put her at ease. More than at ease. Every one of his kisses had melted another part of her body, making her feel wonderfully languorous. And horny as hell. And the best part was, she didn’t even care. She felt wonderful, sexy, desirable. Like she was twenty years old again and had the world at her feet.

  ‘Let’s go to bed,’ she purred, in a voice that sounded nothing like her own.

  Max jerked up his head and looked her straight in the eyes. ‘You sure?’

  Julia opened her mouth to tell him she’d never been more sure of anything in her entire life, when the sound of ringing detonated the moment.

  What the hell was that? And of all the moments it could have gone off, why did it have to pick this one?

  ‘I, er, think that’s your mobile,’ muttered Max, rolling off her.

  Shit. She’d meant to switch it off. But she’d been in such a state when she’d arrived that it had completely slipped her mind. She looked from Max – all gorgeous and dishevelled, whose clothes she wanted to rip off that very instant – to her handbag on the coffee table from which the ringing emanated. The only people who called her were Paul and the twins, and she had no desire to speak to any of them. She could just ignore it. Flick it off. Pretend it hadn’t rung at all. Let Max lead her to his bed and carry on where they’d left off. It was unlikely to be anything urgent after all. Probably Leo asking where his mini Mars bars were. But what it if wasn’t? What if somebody had died? Or had an accident? Damn. If she ignored it, she’d be wondering all evening. And, even if it was something completely anodyne, it had already broken the wonderful moment. Furious that she couldn’t even enjoy one evening of peace without her family spoiling it, she snatched up the bag and whipped out the phone.

  ‘Hello.’

  ‘Hi, Mum. It’s me, Faye.’

  Julia rolled her eyes. ‘This had better be important.’

  Chapter Thirteen

  Julia had almost dropped the phone when Faye told her what had happened. That she was in Spain had been a shock in itself. That she’d been drugged, almost raped, and admitted to hospital with suspected concussion was quite another.

  Julia had immediately headed home and booked herself on a flight out that evening. Naturally, she’d tried to contact Paul. But his phone had been switched off. Obviously he was far more adept at this adultery game than Julia. She didn’t want to think about what he’d be doing. On a business trip. With Nat-bloody-alia. Then again, she couldn’t talk. She’d been on the verge of hopping into bed with Max. With two philandering parents, Faye had been lucky to get hold of one of them. Not that she would feel lucky when Julia got hold of her. Furious didn’t come close to describing how she felt. She had no idea how her daughter had managed to book the flights – but she harboured a strong suspicion her credit card may have played some role in the proceedings. She should’ve known better than to let her have the details a few weeks ago. She’d probably made a note of the number and used it for God knows what since.

  In the back of the taxi, en route to the airport, Julia sighed. She had no idea where she’d gone wrong with her kids. Faye, in particular, had never been easy. Even as a toddler, she’d been truculent, moody and awkward, always kicking off in the most public of places. Her ‘Terrible Twos’ had lasted until she reached seven. Since the move to Buttersley, though, or, more precisely, since Faye had befriended this Josie one, the girl had become more churlish and self-centred than ever. Which was precisely why Julia had no desire to strike up a conversation with Josie’s mother, sitting right beside her. That, and the fact that she was still fuming with the woman for the state Faye had arrived home in after Josie’s party. No, the sooner she got Faye home and ended the friendship, the better it would be all round.

  ‘Would you, um, mind if I wound down the window a little bit?’ she heard Miranda Cutler asking.

  ‘Not at all,’ replied Julia, without even bothering to look at her.

  *****

  Right. So that was the state of play, was it? Faye’s mother obviously had no intention of speaking to her unless absolutely necessary. Well, that met with Miranda’s approval. She was in no mood for chit-chat herself, her head feeling like it consisted of cotton wool. She’d been in such a deep sleep when the phone jolted her awake, interrupting a dream about her parents. Which was more than a little weird. She’d never dreamt about her parents before, but she had – in her trance-like state – resolved to visit them, just as soon as this termination business was over.

  Of course, this unexpected Spanish development meant it would probably be another couple of days before she called the clinic. Josie was her priority at the moment. The girl had been so upset when she’d called that, through her sobs, Miranda could scarcely make out what she was saying. When she had eventually grasped the gist, she’d thought she must still be dreaming. Never, in a million years, would Josie ever have done something so outrageous. Or at least not before Faye Blakelaw appeared on the scene. Josie hadn’t said anything on the phone, but Miranda would have bet she’d tagged along under duress – probably because she didn’t want Faye to go alone. Anyway, whatever the reasons, they’d find out soon enough. And, for all Faye Blakelaw’s uppity mother was the last person Miranda wanted to spend time with, she had to admit the woman seemed to have everything under control. Just as well given how incapable Miranda felt at the moment.

  *****

  Despite the lateness of the hour, the hospital in Malaga buzzed with activity. Not that Julia wasted time observing the goings-on. She was on a mission: to find her daughter, and get to the bottom of what had happened. She imagined her Spanish made the process a deal smoother. To be in this situation and not have a clue what anyone was saying would have been a nightmare – a fact Josie’s mother seemed to greatly appreciate.

  ‘Goodness,’ she’d uttered, after Julia issued instructions to the taxi driver in Malaga in his native tongue. ‘It must be great to speak another language like that. It’s something I always thought about doing when I worked for the airline. Somehow, though, I never got round to it.’

  Despite her annoyance with the woman, Julia had actually found herself engaging in conversation. And the more they engaged, the more she wondered if she’d got Miranda Cutler all wrong. Rather than the vacuous bimbo she’d first imagined, she came across as a caring, self-deprecating woman, who obviously thought the world of her daughter. And, having now met Josie, Julia thought her a lovely, unassuming girl, who she doubted had played any part in Faye’s shenanigans at the party. Rather than Josie being a bad influence on Faye, Julia strongly suspected it might be the other way round. Not that Miranda had cast any such aspersions. Indeed the woman had been extremely gracious about both the party incident and this fiasco.

  Julia, on the other hand, remained livid. Just thinking about Faye’s scheming made her blood boil. And, to rub salt into the wound, this debacle had ruined what she suspected could have been one of the best nights of her life. If Faye wasn’t her own daughter, she would happily have strangled her. Thankfully, to avoid the temptation, the hospital intended keeping both girls in overnight for observation, and recommended a nearby hotel for Julia and Miranda.

  ‘She’ll be fine, you know?’ said Julia, as she and Miranda wandered down the hospital corridor after bidding the girls goodnight. ‘There’s no need to look so worried.’

  ‘I know,’ replied Miranda. ‘Sorry. I just don’t, um, feel too well.’

  ‘We can grab a coffee or something if you like, before we go to the hotel.’

&nbs
p; Miranda nodded. ‘Okay. But would you mind just waiting here a second? I need the loo.’

  Miranda disappeared into the ladies’, and Julia plumped down on the row of plastic seats outside. Her thoughts immediately turned to Faye. When the wails of a passing child started her back to the present, she glanced at her watch. Crikey. Miranda had been in the loo for twenty minutes.

  Julia dashed inside. One of the cubicle doors was locked.

  ‘Miranda, are you all right?’ she ventured.

  ‘Not really,’ came back the reply. ‘Could you get me a doctor, please?’

  *****

  ‘She says you’ve had a miscarriage’ had been Julia’s translation, following the Spanish doctor’s examination of Miranda.

  Not that Miranda needed a medical opinion. She’d known the minute she’d dashed to the loo and seen the blood. Lots of blood. She should, she supposed, have been grateful. At least it saved her the trauma of a termination. But, for some reason, relief didn’t factor at all in her emotions. Instead, she felt incredibly sad, very empty, and more alone than she had in her entire life.

  ‘I’m really sorry,’ said Julia, sitting alongside the bed on which Miranda had been examined. ‘Would you like me to do anything? Phone your husband or …?’

  ‘No’ snapped Miranda, panic sweeping through her. ‘There’s no need for Doug to … That is he doesn’t …’ Tears streamed down her cheeks. ‘… I couldn’t tell him. You see it wasn’t his baby.’

  And before she could stop them, the words began tumbling from her mouth.

  *****

  Julia tried not to look mortified at Miranda’s confession. Not that she was a prude or anything. But she’d only known the woman five minutes and here she was, embroiled in what had to be Miranda’s biggest secret. Without mentioning names, Miranda had explained that it had been a one-off. A stupid drunken mistake with a man who wasn’t her husband. That she’d planned on terminating the pregnancy, but, with one thing and another, hadn’t got around to making the appointment.

  And, all the while, she’d been breaking her heart. Tears pouring down her beautiful face. As the words had spouted from her mouth, Julia had been suffused by both sympathy and empathy. If anyone knew what could happen in the presence of alcohol and the absence of contraception, it was Julia. Hadn’t that very combination led to her own miserable existence at such an early age? And she certainly couldn’t criticise Miranda for sleeping with another man. Not when she had been on the verge of hopping into bed with Max. In fact, if she and Max had got completely carried away with the moment, she might have found herself in exactly the same position as Miranda.

  A hypothetical situation which did not bear any further thinking.

  *****

  Faye was mortified. And humiliated. And gutted. And her street cred had plummeted to somewhere south of Antarctica. But, for once, her street cred did not rank top of her priority list. As melodramatic as it might seem, lying in her hospital bed, she was simply grateful to be alive. Just thinking about all the horrendous things that could have happened to her – in that room with Miguel – made her want to throw up. And there’d been no chance of Faye omitting any horrendous scenarios. Not with her mother diligently rhyming off every single one.

  Usually switching off the moment her mum began one of her lectures, Faye really hadn’t minded this time. Despite her mother’s obvious – and understandable – fury, Faye had burst into tears of relief the moment she’d arrived. Never, in her entire life, had she been more pleased to see someone. And the way she spoke Spanish … Wow!

  Faye harboured a vague recollection of her mother muttering something about studying Spanish at uni and wanting to be an interpreter, but she’d never really taken much notice before. She’d had no idea she could speak the language so fluently. It was well cool. And, on top of that, she’d handled all the hospital staff, the police, and the mountain of paperwork in a brisk, no-nonsense fashion. Just as well given how ineffectual Miranda had been. No, the star of this show had definitely been Julia, which made Faye think that maybe there was more to her mother than she’d ever given her credit for.

  *****

  ‘You must’ve known she’d been out for ages. Where did you think she was?’

  With everyone safely ensconced at Primrose Cottage, Paul’s reaction to the proceedings did not help Julia’s mood at all.

  ‘For the hundredth time, I thought she was at Josie’s house.’

  Paul raked a hand through his hair. ‘And you were happy with that, were you? Given the state she arrived back from Josie’s house in only a few days before?’

  Julia closed her eyes for a few seconds before replying. ‘She’s nearly eighteen. She could be away at university next year getting up to God knows what.’

  ‘But she isn’t at university yet, is she? She lives under our roof, which means she’s our responsibility.’

  Balling her hands into fists, Julia couldn’t trust herself to reply. Instead, she spun around and marched out of the room, fury bubbling in her veins. How hypocritical could you get? Paul lecturing her on parenting skills while he was gallivanting all over the globe with a girl only a few years older than his own daughter. It was obscene. It was disgusting. It was downright …

  Leo barrelled into the hall in his running kit.

  ‘Mum, can I ask your advice on something?’

  ‘Not now,’ Julia snapped, pushing past him and haring up the stairs two at a time. Upon reaching her bedroom, she flung the door shut and sank down on the bed, resting her head in her hands. Was it normal to dislike your own family so much? Or was she some kind of freak human being; absent from proceedings when maternal instinct had been doled out?

  Since returning from Spain, she could scarcely bring herself to look at Faye, despite the girl obviously doing her best to make amends. Then there was Paul. Acting like a superior being. Picking on her at every opportunity. Repeating over and over again how something so serious would never have happened on his watch. Blaming Julia for the whole sorry episode. And now Leo. Asking for advice. Advice on what? God! It was like living with a group of leeches. All of them feeding off her; sucking out her very soul.

  There was only one person in her life who didn’t make her feel like that.

  And that person was Max.

  *****

  God! If Paul had been guilty before, it was nothing to his feelings now. It was as though he were drowning in the stuff; so drenched in it that it oozed out of every one of his pores. And the reason for this unsavoury scenario?

  While his daughter was gallivanting around a foreign country where anything could have – and had – happened to her, Paul had been in bed with Natalia.

  His phone switched off.

  His attention focused purely on his own carnal pleasure. Well, and Natalia’s of course. Or at least he’d like to think so.

  But his guilt was not being eased by the way he’d opted to vent his anger. Directing it all – in a particularly unreasonable fashion – at Julia. Little wonder, then, that she was furious with him. He was furious with himself.

  For not being there when his family needed him.

  For sleeping with Natalia.

  For allowing his marriage to fall into such a disastrous state that he and Julia could now barely stand being in the same room.

  Well, one thing was for certain. Things couldn’t continue like this. For his own sanity – and probably Julia’s too, given the way she’d been acting lately – something had to change.

  And Paul had decided exactly what that something would be.

  *****

  ‘Well, how long are you going to be ill for?’

  On the other end of the phone, Miranda rolled her eyes. ‘I’ve no idea, Lydia. It’s a bug. They don’t come with a shelf-life.’

  An almighty sigh ensued. ‘I suppose I’ll have to go to the hairdresser’s on my own again then.’

  ‘I suppose you will. But it’s hardly the end of the world, is it? Look, I’ll call you when I’m fee
ling better, okay?’

  ‘It’ll have to be,’ huffed Lydia, before hanging up.

  Miranda curled into a ball on the sofa, hugging her knees to her chest. Honestly. A mere two-minute conversation with Lydia left her exhausted. And, as usual, the woman had shown no concern for her, viewing Miranda’s condition as nothing but an inconvenience. Of course, Miranda hadn’t revealed to Lydia the true reason for her incapacitation. She’d used the same excuse she had with Josie – that she’d caught a nasty stomach bug. But Eduardo’s involvement in her predicament notwithstanding, Miranda couldn’t imagine sharing anything so personal with Lydia. Not least of all because the woman wouldn’t be remotely interested.

  Julia Blakelaw, on the other hand, was proving an absolute rock, texting every day to check on her. Miranda couldn’t believe how much better she’d felt after sharing her troubles with Julia. Only when she’d finished doing so had she realised just how much the strain of carrying around her secret had been eating away at her. And Julia hadn’t judged her at all, even admitting she’d made a not dissimilar mistake when she’d fallen pregnant with the twins. Miranda really hoped she and Julia could continue to develop their fledgling friendship once she was feeling stronger. Although quite how long that would be, she had no idea. While her body might be healing, her head remained all over the place.

  She hadn’t wanted this baby. Or at least she’d thought she hadn’t. While not being the least bit religious though, Miranda couldn’t help but wonder if her lost child had been sent for a purpose: to force her to re-evaluate her life, make her appreciate the important things again.

  Her mobile rang. Her parents’ number flashed on the screen. For the first time ever, Miranda experienced a pang of joy at seeing it. She’d arrange to go and see them. Next week.

  ‘Hello, Mum,’ she chirruped. ‘How are you?’

  ‘Not good, dear. I’m afraid I’ve some bad news.’

  *****

  ‘So Faye’s okay?’

  Sitting at the kitchen table, her mobile pressed to her ear, Julia felt better than she had in days. Such was the effect of Max’s voice. She’d been filling him in on the Spanish escapade – omitting the part about Miranda.