by Fiona Harper
She gave him a self-satisfied grin. ‘A magazine for me and colouring books for the boys.’
Ben hefted the twins, who had obviously been overdosing on Christmas pudding, under his arms and set off back to the other end of the mall. One of the large chains of newsagents had a shop up that way and he could kill two birds with one stone.
As he walked into the magazine and newspaper section at the front of the shop, something very much like déjà vu made his skin pop into goose pimples. Although he was sure it was just tiredness, he took a quick look around the shop.
Jas was heading over to look at the magazines and, in one swift action, he grabbed her arm and steered her in the opposite direction. ‘Why don’t you go and look over there,’ he said, pointing to the slightly older teenage magazines.
‘Cool!’ Jas didn’t need to be told twice.
He was probably going to hate himself for buying her one of those later, but it was a far better option than letting her see the front page of one of the newspapers on the other display stand.
There, in full colour, was a picture of Megan kissing him on the cheek accompanied by the heading: ‘LOUISE FOILED IN LOVE AGAIN’. There wasn’t much text, but he could make out another small picture of Louise. She seemed to be sneering.
Of course, the main photo looked much worse than the actual event—like an intimate moment between lovers.
Hell.
He couldn’t let Jas see that. For all kinds of reasons. Surreptitiously, he wandered over to the display and pulled another paper across to hide the offending article. Then he accepted the magazine that Jas was waving at him, stopped by a pile of colouring books, grabbed a couple and headed for the till.
His blood was one degree off boiling temperature.
After paying he grabbed a twin in each hand and bustled Jas out of the shop so fast she gave him one of her ‘madam’ looks.
Problem one dealt with.
Problem two? How was he going to explain this to Louise?
Tara marched into the kitchen, where Louise was making breakfast and trying to stop herself planning another baking session this afternoon. Surely there were better ways to pamper oneself? A bubble bath or something?
‘I thought you said it was all lies!’ Tara said in a crisp voice. Louise turned to find her standing with her hands on her hips. She hadn’t seen her since their midnight chat the night before, but the uncertain, off-kilter Tara was gone, replaced by a harder and glossier version of the original. Even though it was barely past eight and the only plans for the day was a quiet pub lunch in Lower Hadwell, Tara was in full make-up and high heels. The one concession to their country location was a fur trim at the top of each exquisitely-crafted Italian boot.
‘What was lies?’ Louise asked, sensing she wasn’t going to like where this conversation was going. Tara seemed to have the hump with her. Maybe it was something to do with letting Louise seeing her so vulnerable. Tara Adams didn’t do vulnerable.
Tara walked up to Louise and presented her with her iPad, showing a newspaper website. The headline made her eyes pop. The photo beneath it made them sting.
‘I didn’t say it was all lies,’ she said, folding her arms across her chest. ‘I just said some of it was lies, and that was the truth.’
Tara’s mouth dropped open. ‘Some friend you are! There’s me spilling my guts and all the time you’re hiding stuff from me, keeping secrets.’
She really didn’t have an answer for that. She had kept Ben a secret from Tara. It had seemed the right thing to do at the time. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, ‘We haven’t told anyone.’ She smiled a weak smile at her friend. ‘And you know what it’s like in our world … New romances are tabloid fodder, but once the media has eaten them up and spat them out again, they don’t always survive.’
Tara’s nose wrinkled. ‘Romance? Seriously? With a gardener?’
Louise lifted her chin. ‘He makes me happy.’
The other woman closed her eyes. ‘It’s worse than I thought. A hot, dirty fling is one thing, but you can’t seriously be falling for this guy?’
Louise stopped breathing.
Was she? Was she falling for Ben?
‘Oh, God, you are, aren’t you?’ Tara let her hands drop. ‘Are you nuts?’
Louise shook her head. No. In fact, she felt the sanest she’d ever done since she’d moved to Whitehaven.
Tara pulled one of the chairs from round the table out and motioned for Louise to sit down while she sat opposite her. She placed the iPad on the table in front of them. ‘It’s never going to work, Lou. Can’t you see that?’
Louise sat in the chair. Tara was wrong, and she was going to tell her exactly why. ‘Why can’t it work? He’s a nice man. He’s kind and caring and…. everything Toby isn’t.’
Tara’s nose creased again. Louise was starting to find that really irritating. ‘Nice? What a description! Since when have women like you and me ever wanted nice?’
Since Toby, actually. Cool and dashing were seriously overrated. And Ben was way more than just nice, but Louise didn’t have Tara’s gift with words, especially when she was put on the spot.
‘You make that sound like it’s a bad thing,’ she said. ‘But I’ll take decent and honest over filthy rich and adulterous any day!’
Tara swung the iPad round so it was up the right way for Louise. ‘Yup. Honest and decent. What a catch.’
Louise shook her head. There could be any one of a hundred reasons for a photo like that. Okay, ninety-eight of them were making The Feeling creep up her arms and chill her stomach, but the remaining two were still a possibility.
‘Ben’s not like that,’ she said stubbornly. ‘You know how they can make things look.’
Tara stopped glaring and her posture softened. ‘Okay, maybe I do know that, but it doesn’t change anything. A relationship with a civilian spells disaster, you know that.’
Louise’s knee jiggled under the table. In her dreams it had worked, and so far her wishes had been coming true. Why couldn’t this one?
She stared at her friend, and realised there was a self-satisfied gleam in Tara’s eyes. In some twisted way she was enjoying this, enjoying that she was the one in control, who knew what to do, and Louise—as always—was the one who needed rescuing.
‘I’m a “civilian” too, now,’ she said quietly. She’d always hated the way Tara used that term.
Tara shook her head. ‘And that’s why your picture is plastered all over the front of the Daily News, is it? Ted and Marjorie from their council flat in Wapping get that kind of attention when Ted strays, do they? Don’t kid yourself, Lou. You’re famous, whether you want to be or not, and there’s no going back. You can’t undo it.’
She stared at the swirling grain of the wooden table, at a big knot in front of her, a perfect circle.
Tara reached across and laid her hand on top of Louise’s, just Louise had done to her the night before. Her fingers felt cold and bony. ‘Women like us need a certain kind of man,’ she said calmly and far too reasonably. ‘He can’t possibly give you what you need, you know that.’
Something inside Louise’s stomach started to flutter. No, that was wrong. So far Ben had given her everything she’d needed and more. He had to be the one for her. Had to be.
She pulled her hand away from under Tara’s and placed it in her lap, out of reach. ‘You’re wrong.’
Tara’s lips pursed. ‘I don’t think so.’
‘I’ve been nothing but nice to you,’ she said, narrowing her eyes. ‘Why are you being so … so … critical, so unsupportive?’
Tara pulled face that said she was shocked and hurt to be considered anything of the sort. Never mind the constant nitpicking, the endless flow of ‘advice’ Louise had had to put up with over the years.
And then it hit her. She knew exactly why Tara was being this way.
‘You’re jealous,’ she said, and folded her arms again.
Tara did a very passable impression of outraged hilarity,
letting out a tiny bark of a laugh and pulling her lips into a shape that was half-smile, half-sneer. She pushed her chair back from the table and stood up. ‘And you’re deluded.’
Louise stood up too, shaking her head. ‘You’re just scared. You’re too invested in the whole WAG thing to leave it behind, to do what I’ve done, even though your husband is cheating on you, so you just want to rain on my parade instead, to make yourself feel better.’
‘My husband is not cheating on me!’
Louise just raised her eyebrows.
‘He’s not!’ Tara said. ‘I spoke with him this morning and he explained it all. I’m driving back after lunch so we can sort it out. It was just a silly mix up!’
‘Sure.’ Louise nodded. ‘And Toby is the patron saint of faithful husbands …’
‘You bitch!’ Tara said, almost spitting the words out. ‘I always knew you had a nasty side, Louise Thornton, but I put up with it because I knew you needed a friend. But if you want to moulder away in this draughty old house, wasting your life, then it’s your choice. I can see there’s no point in trying any more. My first assessment of the situation was definitely the right one: you’re nuts!’
Her heel squeaked as the turned and marched out the kitchen. A moment later Louise heard her heading up the stairs.
She didn’t know whether to rant and rage, sit down and have a good cry or just burst out laughing. She was nuts? Louise wasn’t the one about to go back to her obviously cheating husband.
Tara was jealous. But not in that girls’ school, mean-to-you-because-you’re-prettier-than-I-am-way. She was scared, and Louise supposed she could understand that. She’d spent half her marriage feeling the same way. And Tara had invested in the whole WAG thing way more than Louise had done. If she admitted Louise had done the right thing by leaving Toby, by moving away and trying to have a normal life, then Tara’s life would collapse around her like a house of cards.
She emerged from the kitchen to find Tara winging her way down the stairs, case in hand. She ignored Louise, stalked out the front door—leaving it open—then jumped in her sports car and zoomed away. Louise watched her go, a heavy feeling growing inside her.
Whitehaven hadn’t worked for Tara. But then Tara hadn’t let it. She was still too stuck in her old fears, rooted in her old ways.
Maybe she’d be back one day … When the next text message, or phone call, or front page news story came. Because Gareth would do it again if he thought he’d got away with it this time. He was every bit as clever as his wife, and he probably knew he held all the power, that she wouldn’t leave until pushed to her absolute limit.
And if Tara let him do it? If she let him carry on like that in front of her, make a fool of her like that …? Well, sadly, Louise thought she might just deserve him.
Ben lugged his holdall through the front door and kicked it closed with his foot. He’d had to come back to see Louise after finding that article, even though he’d planned to be away another day or so. Thankfully, his sister had been understanding and had agreed to keep Jas until after new year. It meant he could deal with whatever cropped up in Lower Hadwell over the next few days without having to worry about her.
No sooner had he dropped his bag on the floor than there was a knock at the door. He paused and frowned. He wasn’t expecting anyone, and no one—save his sister—knew he was back. Did this mean it had started already? That there were journalists camped out spying on his house?
His first thought was to open the front door and give them a piece of his mind. But then he remembered what Louise had said about unflattering pictures when a person was in mid-rant. And that last photographer had managed to make something innocuous seem seedy; he certainly didn’t want to give them any more ammunition.
Whoever it was wasn’t standing on the step, but back a bit, so he had to creep close to the door to try and get a look.
‘Mr Oliver?’
It was a woman’s voice. Sharp and slightly acerbic. She certainly didn’t sound as if she wanted to butter him up to get an interview out of him. Not like the others who’d called his mobile while he’d been away.
‘Yes,’ he said through the door.
‘I’m Tara Adams—a friend of Louise’s.’
Undoubtedly, Jas would know whether that was true. She kept up with all the celebrity gossip via her mother, but Ben had no clue. He turned the lock and cracked the door open slightly. One look told him she was far too well dressed to be a journalist. He opened the door wider and looked around. Anyone could be out there. And the last thing he needed was another photograph that needed explaining.
‘You’d better come in,’ he said warily, and opened the door wider.
Tara Adams didn’t seem to want to be here any more than he wanted her here. She looked down her nose and marched into his house.
‘Would you like to come into the kitchen? Have a coffee?’
She shook her head and looked around the panelled hallway of his cottage. ‘No. This will do fine.’
He folded his arms. ‘How can I help you, Ms Adams?’
She blinked slowly and a slight smile spread across her lips. ‘Actually, it’s how I can help you—and Louise, of course.’
His lids lowered slightly. ‘Go on.’
She inhaled. ‘I thought I’d better warn you that you’re heading for trouble by seeing her.’
Ben nodded. After the last few days, he knew exactly what kind of trouble being with Louise could bring. ‘I know,’ he said. ‘The paparazzi have already done a hatchet job on me, but I can handle it.’
She stared at him for a moment. ‘I wasn’t talking about them.’ She looked away and then back at him. ‘You know she’s coming to you on the rebound, right? Lou falls hard and I’d say she bounces hard too. It’s not going to last.’
He hadn’t warmed to this Tara the moment he’d clapped eyes on her, and she was endearing herself to him less and less. ‘I’d say that’s for Louise to decide.’
She laughed. An irritating, high little laugh that got right under his skin.
‘You know, we joked about her having a hot and dirty little fling with a local yokel before she came down here. I think you’re it.’
Ben clenched his teeth together. He didn’t want to give any credence to what this woman said, but he was remembering how tempting it had been when he’d been freshly split from Megan, how he’d itched to do something similar. It was only the presence of Jasmine in his house, of how confused she’d already been, that had stopped him. But Louise wasn’t like that. Was she?
Tara stood up tall and looked him in the eye. ‘You can’t give her what she needs,’ she said airily, ‘and the sooner you realise that the better. Like I said, you’ll both end up getting hurt. You’d be better off leaving her alone and going back to that wife of yours.’
And then she just turned and walked back down the hallway and let herself out, leaving Ben staring behind her.
Cow, he thought.
He found it hard to believe Louise was using him for sex, seeing as they hadn’t actually made it into the bedroom yet, but …
She had wanted to that first night. It was because he’d thought she was vulnerable that he’d stopped her.
No. Don’t be ridiculous. Louise isn’t like that. You’ve known her for months. If she’d wanted to use you that way, she’d have pinned you up against the greenhouse wall and had her wicked way with you ages ago.
Ben took a moment to imagine what that would be like, but then shook himself. Focus. This wasn’t the time.
The Louise Thornton the tabloids had created, the frigid snob who looked down her nose at everyone might have acted that way, but not his Louise. The real Louise was warm and giving and complicated, and just didn’t know how to take like that. As soon as that thought dropped into place, he knew for certain that Tara was wrong.
But he had to admit, she might have something with the ‘rebound’ thing. It was a fairly common response after all, and Louise might be doing it without realisin
g it. She desperately needed a confidence boost after what her ex had put her through.
He didn’t want that. He didn’t want to be her rebound guy. He didn’t want to be the one she bounced to then bounced away from. He wanted to be the one she stuck with.
He went very still.
He wanted to be the one she stuck with.
For ever.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Louise tried phoning Ben after Tara had left, but she kept getting his voicemail. She didn’t really have anything pertinent to discuss; she just wanted to hear his voice, know that he still felt the same way he had a couple of days ago. She needed him.
Since talking to him wasn’t an option, she settled into one of her current daydreams …
She and Ben were living in his little cottage, and she had never been famous. No one ever knocked on their door wanting an interview. No one ever snapped their picture as they left the house looking a mess. No, they’d been teenage sweethearts, married since their early twenties, and everyone left them alone to live their lives and be happy.
But the strange thing was that the Louise in these daydreams had started to look different. Prettier. Thinner. More like the other mums at the school gate. She wore wellies instead of designer shoes and had her hair cut by a girl who came to the house.
And the more Louise crafted the fantasy version of herself into Ben’s perfect woman, the more she looked like … not someone else, exactly. But not quite like Louise, either. She tried time and time again to paste her face over the imaginary woman’s one, but it kept slipping back into what it had been before. In the end, Louise got so frustrated, she went to the study to find something else to do.
After Tara’s grand ideas about publication and syndication of Laura’s diary last night, Louise had decided to lock it in the desk in the study, just in case. She retrieved it from its secure hiding place and sat down in a winged leather armchair to read.
5th September, 1956
The sun is high, the sky is blue. I can hear a wood pigeon cooing at the edge of the woods. Down below the Dart sparkles and dances, and now and then the geometric shape of a white or a red sail floats past a gap in the trees.