No Turning Back

by Susan Lewis

  Livvy was still looking at her. ‘OK, I will,’ she said.

  Eva turned to her with a smile that covered the ache in her heart. In spite of discovering an inner strength during these past couple of months that she’d barely even known she had, the loss of her sister and her husband was something she knew she’d never really get over. Not even having Richie back in her life was going to make up for what had happened. However, he was already filling up her world with another kind of happiness and a love that was so different, and so special, that she couldn’t imagine anyone or anything ever mattering as much as him.

  ‘So Jake’s plane has landed?’ she said, understanding for the first time how much it would mean to Patty to have her son home for Christmas.

  ‘Apparently,’ Livvy replied. ‘I’m dying to hear how he got on in Cartagena. He hardly sent any texts and now Mum’s decided to take him on into London for a couple of days’ Christmas shopping before they come back here. I just hope he hasn’t got himself involved with a Colombian, because that will just about do her head in.’

  ‘Why? Do you think he has?’ Eva gasped, thinking drug cartels, kidnapping, torture …

  ‘No, not really,’ Livvy responded, clearly wondering what had happened to everyone’s sense of humour. ‘Anyway, when exactly are you going to London this week?’

  ‘Wednesday and Thursday, so back in plenty of time for the weekend. Do you think you’ll come and watch Richie play again next Sunday?’

  ‘Yeah, I’d definitely like to. I expect Jas will want to come too. And Jake, knowing him. Remind me what you’re doing in London?’

  ‘Meeting with the publicity people again, and a couple of German agents. And actually,’ her heartbeat was starting to slow, ‘between us, I’m hoping I might meet up with Richie’s father.’

  Livvy’s jaw dropped. ‘No way,’ she murmured. ‘Oh my God. That is major. Does Richie know?’

  ‘No, I don’t want to say anything until I’ve had a chance to find out how Nick wants to play it.’

  Livvy nodded agreement. ‘I guess that makes sense. So how are you feeling about it? Oh my God, this must be totally blowing your mind.’

  Since it was starting to, Eva said, ‘I admit I am feeling a bit nervous, but more for Richie’s sake than my own. If it turns out that he doesn’t want to be part of Richie’s life, and I have to break that to Richie … Well, I’m not sure what I’ll do, but I can tell you this much, I won’t be letting him get away with it as easily this time around as I did the last.’

  Livvy was frowning. ‘Do you reckon it’s likely he’ll want nothing to do with him?’

  Forcing herself to relax a little, Eva replied, ‘Actually, not from what Bobbie said, but who knows what will happen. I guess we just have to wait and find out.’

  Nick Jensen was sitting at his desk staring thoughtfully from the window of his fourth-storey office, with one hand still on the telephone he’d just put down, the other folded into a fist that he was tapping against his chin. To say that Bobbie’s call had come as a bolt out of the blue wouldn’t have been entirely true, since she’d told him when they’d met up in New York last week that she had some news for him. It hadn’t been appropriate to go into any detail at the time, she’d said, since there were others at the table whose discretion couldn’t be relied upon. And another opportunity hadn’t arisen for them to get together again before he was due to fly back to London.

  After returning he’d spent so much time in meetings, or in editing suites, or on the sets of various projects he had in production, that he’d had little time to wonder what Bobbie’s news might be. If it had crossed his mind at all it had been only fleetingly, and had left him feeling hopeful that she might be about to put a new client his way. What hadn’t occurred to him was that she was about to turn his entire life upside down.

  ‘I’m sorry to do this on the phone,’ she’d said, ‘but I’m flying out again tomorrow and I promised Eva I’d speak to you this week.’

  Simply hearing Eva’s name had brought him to a standstill. What Bobbie had told him next had caused his head to spin.

  ‘She wants you to know that she’s in touch with your son. In fact she’s starting to build a relationship with him, and there’s a chance, she tells me, that he’ll go to live with her when everyone feels the time is right.’

  That was when Nick’s heart rate had gone up.

  ‘She wants to see you,’ Bobbie continued. ‘She’ll be in London tomorrow and Thursday, and she’s willing to rearrange her meetings to suit you.’

  For a moment he’d felt himself spiralling back to the time of the attack, the screams, the blood – so much blood – but then he’d regrounded himself and was able to breathe again. ‘What does she know about me now?’ he asked, trying to keep his tone neutral.

  ‘I thought I’d leave that to you,’ Bobbie replied. ‘What she probably won’t tell you is that her marriage has recently broken up. It’s been a particularly difficult time, because he’s gone off with Patty.’

  Nick couldn’t believe it. The shock was so great that even he had felt the whip of betrayal. ‘Patty, her sister?’ he said, needing to be sure.

  ‘Indeed. Please don’t say I mentioned it, because I’m sure she won’t want you to know. The only reason I’m telling you is so that you don’t make the mistake of thinking Don will be bringing any influence to bear on whatever relationship you might choose to have with your son. I’m presuming you’ll want one, but of course I could be wrong.’

  Though he’d opened his mouth to speak, no words had emerged.

  ‘His adoptive father is dead and the mother’s somewhere up north. He’s been living with an aunt and uncle for the past year or so. Now, if you’ve got a pen handy I’ll give you Eva’s mobile number.’

  After jotting it down he’d managed at least one sensible question before Bobbie rang off. ‘Does Eva want me to have a relationship with him?’

  There was a moment before Bobbie said, ‘I think I’ll let her answer that. You know how to get hold of me if you need to.’

  ‘Bobbie!’

  ‘Yes?’

  He hadn’t been ready to let her go, but had no idea what he wanted to say. Then, realising for the moment there was only one thing, he said, ‘Thank you.’

  Now, minutes were ticking by and he still wasn’t picking up the phone to call Eva. Nor would he until he had himself under full control, and considering the emotions Bobbie’s call had aroused, he was aware that could take some time.

  Getting to his feet he went to stand at the window. At six foot two with short, silvering hair and deep-set brown eyes he was still a striking-looking man, with the kind of smile, it had been remarked, that should have been in front of the camera rather than behind. Since it was not a place he’d ever wanted to find himself, either as a photographer or as an exec producer as he was now, the comments always slid past him like strangers in a crowd.

  Fifty feet below his suite of offices the river appeared dull and lifeless in the afternoon gloom, with only a couple of booze cruisers offering the odd glimmer of seasonal cheer. On the far embankment a stream of headlights inched and stopped, then inched and stopped again. He watched the progress through his ghostly reflection, feeling as though he, not it, was the metaphor. He was aware that at any moment someone could come bursting through the door behind him demanding an answer, or a decision, or needing to pass on information he’d requested. He’d react on cue, give them what they wanted and they’d go away again. It would happen several times, he felt sure, before he’d feel ready to pick up the phone and make the call to Eva.

  It was pitch black outside and most of his staff had gone home by the time he poured himself a stiff drink and punched in the number Bobbie had given him.

  Her voice was slightly hesitant, but breathtakingly familiar as she said, ‘Hello?’

  ‘It’s Nick,’ he told her.

  Long seconds ticked by and he couldn’t even imagine what must be going through her mind. Was she experienc
ing anything of his apprehension and anticipation? Such shallow and immediate emotions were only scratching the surface for him, but right now he could go no deeper. It would be delusional to think they were anything like the same people who’d once loved each other, yet they were still connected and always would be through their son.

  ‘How are you?’ she asked.

  Answering truthfully, he said, ‘I’m not sure. Shocked, I guess. Bobbie only called me today.’

  ‘Yes, she rang me a while ago. I was beginning to think I wouldn’t hear from you.’

  ‘I’m sorry. Where are you?’

  ‘At Carrie-Anne’s apartment in Chelsea. Where are you?’

  ‘At my office – in Chelsea Harbour.’

  A silence followed as their proximity seemed to speak its own words, yet he had no idea whether to suggest they get together now or later. ‘Is Carrie-Anne with you?’ he asked in the end.

  ‘No, she’s in Rio. I’m staying here because Bobbie’s flat is full up tonight. She told you, of course, why I want to see you?’

  ‘Yes, she did.’

  ‘And are you OK about it?’

  How could she even begin to think he wasn’t, except she had no reason to think otherwise? ‘She said you were willing to rearrange your meetings. I’m prepared to do the same.’

  To his surprise there was a catch in her voice as she said, ‘Thank you. Yes, I’ll do that.’

  ‘If you give me the address I can come now,’ he told her.

  ‘Actually I …’ She broke off, as though rethinking her objection. ‘If you’re sure.’

  ‘I’m sure.’ And after writing down the address he said, ‘Can I ask one thing before we hang up?’

  Sounding uncertain, she said, ‘I guess so.’

  ‘What’s his name?’

  As Eva put the phone down she stood gazing at her reflection in the huge picture windows that formed an entire wall of Carrie-Anne’s penthouse apartment. The night beyond was as black as infinity, with no sign of a star nor hint of the moon. A few raindrops were meandering down the glass like tiny lost souls and the sound of the wind was reminding her, oddly, of when she was a child and her mother used to tuck her in tightly. How strange that her memory should produce that long-forgotten feeling now. Did it mean that her mother was close by, ready to offer protection, strength, moral support? Perhaps she was trying to deliver a warning. Eva, take care of your heart. This man broke it once, don’t let him do the same to your son.

  There was no risk of that. At least she hoped not, and her own heart was safe, because the love that had all but consumed her when she and Nick were together had faded and died many years ago, proving that time really was the great healer. Would it be like that with Don, she wondered. Feeling a sudden need to speak to him, to hold on to him before she lost him for ever, she took a deep breath and waited for the moment to pass. She had to believe that these surges of panic would cease one day, or there would seem no point to going on. Except Richie was the point. Richie, her son. Even to think of him made her heart want to sing. He’d texted a while ago to wish her good luck with her meeting tomorrow. He had no idea that a far more crucial meeting had come up tonight, and it was best that way, at least until she had some idea of the role, if any, that Nick might want to play in his life.

  Though she’d had days to prepare herself for this, rehearsing what she was going to say, and how she should respond to whatever he might reply, she was finding, as she started to pace, that almost everything was deserting her. Remembering that Bobbie had given her reason to feel optimistic was only managing to buoy her for a moment, because the fear that Nick might want to enfold Richie into the heart of his family was like an undertow continually trying to submerge her. If he did, and Richie wanted to go, she knew she’d have to let him, but the mere thought of it was making it hard not to flee this apartment before Nick arrived. Yet seeing Richie at weekends, perhaps for holidays and during visits to London, would be so much better than not knowing him at all.

  ‘You’re wasting energy on a fear that has no substance,’ Elaine had told her calmly when she’d rung earlier. ‘It’s all in your mind. At this point in time you have no idea what’s going to happen, so the best way you can help yourself is to stay focused on the now.’

  ‘Except I need to prepare myself …’

  ‘Eva, my dear, if we counted up the hours we spend worrying about things that never happen, we’d probably find we’ve wasted half of our lives.’

  Speaking to Elaine was always soothing, not only because of her common sense, but because the tone of her voice always managed to convey the quiet force of her own inner calm. However, without recourse to Elaine now she was starting to work herself into a state again, so taking several deep breaths she made herself recall the mantra Elaine had given her to recite in moments of stress. I am trusting and patient; I am calm; I understand everything is happening perfectly; I have faith.

  It was amazing how effective those four short lines could be, she was thinking after the fourth time of repeating them. It was stunning, in fact, because she was already starting to breathe more easily. All you have to fear is fear itself – another of Elaine’s favourite little homilies that she often floated into a storm like a life raft on its way to the rescue.

  ‘For what it’s worth,’ Elaine had said at the end of their earlier call, ‘I really don’t think Nick will try to take him away from you – and even if he did, I don’t believe Richie would go.’

  Clinging to that, as though Elaine had some kind of privileged connection to the future, Eva went to check her appearance in the bedroom mirror. She couldn’t think why she was bothering about her scars now, except they would remind Nick of the night of the attack. It was when he’d told her their relationship was over, that he couldn’t stay with her and be a father to their child. Only minutes after leaving he’d returned with Bobbie and become caught up in a violent struggle to save her life. How desperately during the months, even years, that had followed she’d wished he hadn’t succeeded.

  How shocking it was to know that she had once thought that way, to realise that she had allowed a broken heart to push her into an obsession so selfish and consuming that not even giving birth to her own child had brought her to her senses. Was it because she was older now that she was able, she hoped, to be more rational, or was it because she didn’t love Don as much as she had loved Nick?

  As the buzzer sounded, letting her know he’d arrived, she felt herself turn weak inside. Then, with a wry glance in the mirror, she reminded herself that though this wasn’t going to be easy, for all sorts of reasons, she was in no way going to allow her fears to get the better of her.

  By the time the private lift rose to the apartment she was standing at the door waiting for him to come through. When he did her head started to swim a little, as though the swing back in time was making her dizzy. He was exactly as she remembered, just as tall and good-looking with the same intense, even penetrating eyes, and the uncanny magnetism that she’d almost forgotten and had always found so irresistible. She could feel it now, like an invisible hand drawing her to him, but it had either lost some of its potency, or she was no longer as susceptible, because after the briefest moment it seemed to have gone.

  ‘Hi,’ he said softly. ‘It’s been a long time.’

  She found herself smiling. She knew he’d noticed her scars, how could he not, but all she could see in his eyes was a kind of tenderness, and she was surprised by the rush of warmth she felt towards him. What had happened to all the anger and resentment she’d harboured over the years, the barrier she’d deliberately erected before he’d arrived to keep him at a safe distance? She didn’t imagine any of it was far away, but for the moment at least she seemed to have no need of them, so turning aside she said, ‘Come in. Can I get you a drink?’

  ‘Only if you’re having one.’

  Going through to the kitchen where hidden lights were funnelling shadows around the glossy crimson cabinets and three discus lamps
were like small halos over the breakfast bar, she said, ‘I thought I’d have wine, but there’s everything here.’

  ‘Wine’s good for me,’ he told her, looking around at their impressive surroundings. ‘So this is where Carrie-Anne lives now,’ he remarked, with no little irony.

  Taking two glasses from a touch/slide cabinet, she said, ‘The lingerie’s been a great success.’

  Sounding amused, he said, ‘Yeah, I guess I knew that,’ and unbuttoning his coat he went to perch on the edge of a tall stool.

  ‘You can take it off if you like,’ she told him. ‘Your coat,’ she added, when he cocked an eyebrow in the way she remembered too well.

  As he got up again he held out a hand to take the bottle she was starting to open.

  In spite of wanting to tell him she could manage she passed it to him, and stood watching his hands as he pulled the cork. She’d always loved his hands, she remembered, but it wasn’t their masculine elegance that was causing her heart to quicken now. It was the scars that ravaged them.

  Her eyes shot to his, but he wasn’t looking at her. Why on earth had no one ever told her about this? She looked at him again, and remembering the tenderness in his eyes when he’d seen her scars, and how he hadn’t mentioned them, she realised he’d probably want her to do the same for him. So forcing herself past the shock, she asked, because she was interested, and in a voice she hoped sounded no more than chatty, ‘Where are you living these days? What happened to Italy?’

  His grimace was tinged with more irony as he passed the bottle back. ‘It’s a long story which I’m sure we’ll get round to,’ he replied, ‘but these days I live just across the river during the week, in Battersea. At weekends I’m generally in Hampshire. And you’re in Dorset?’