With a groan, Emma rolled over to the edge of the bed, which hadn’t seemed so massive when she’d shared it with Max, and grabbed her water bottle and the box of painkillers that now lived permanently on her bedside table. She popped two from the packet and swallowed them with a few gulps of water, before forcing herself upright.
She frowned at her scary reflection in the mirror—she’d have to plaster her face with make-up before Max and Chanel arrived—and vowed to finally make an appointment with the doctor. Her headaches and dizziness were getting beyond a joke and if she was going through early menopause, there had to be something stronger she could take for it.
‘Mum?’ Laura screamed again, this time from Emma’s bedroom doorway, and she realised she hadn’t gotten around to screaming back yet.
‘Have you looked in the bathroom cupboard?’
‘Yes.’ Laura rolled her eyes and flounced her shoulders in a manner both twins had perfected in the last few months. ‘I can not go to Hawaii without it.’
Emma stifled a smile. If she’d known that’s all it would take she’d have hidden the damn thing somewhere even she couldn’t find it. Of course, Max would just buy them another one duty free. ‘Let me have a look,’ she said as she walked past her daughter and almost ran smack bang into Caleb.
‘Oh hey, Mum. Can you believe this? We’re going to Ha-wa-ii!’ He pretended to surf down the hallway and she forced enthusiasm into her reply.
‘I know. You kids are very lucky.’
Caleb dropped his arms to his side and a serious expression came over his face. ‘I wish you could come with us. Will you be okay here all on your own?’
He made her sound like such a sad case. She’d been trying not to let her feelings be known to her children, because she didn’t want to dampen their excitement.
‘I’ll be fine. I’ll probably be so busy out partying every night that I’ll hardly miss you.’ Hah! The closest she’d get to a party would be ordering her favourite Chinese takeaway and eating it in front of the TV.
Caleb laughed, a smile returning to his face. It kind of hurt that he didn’t believe her.
‘Um, mother.’ Laura perched her hands on her hips. ‘My hair straightener?’
‘I don’t know why you bother with it,’ Caleb said, nodding towards his sister’s head before Emma could reply. ‘You’d look better if you just put a paper bag over your head.’
Laura gave him the finger, but Emma ignored it, not wanting to be any kind of grouch during their last minutes together.
‘I’ll find it,’ she said and headed for the bathroom. Find it she did. Exactly where she’d said it would be—sometimes she wondered if her children were blind.
The next hour passed in a blur of breakfast, excited conversation and last-minute reshuffling of things in suitcases. Caleb had a medium-sized backpack, but the twins had a large suitcase each, so overstuffed with clothes that Caleb had had to sit on them in order to zip them up. Emma didn’t say a word. If they were over the weight limit, that was Max’s problem.
And then the doorbell rang—her heart slammed into her chest—and she had no more time to dread saying goodbye to her babies because it was time to actually do so. Part of her had wanted to go to the airport but Max had made it clear she wasn’t needed and although she wanted to hang onto her kids till the last possible moment, she didn’t want to play the spare wheel. The way Max and Chanel carried on in public, it would be obvious what her role was and she’d rather pull her own toenails out with tweezers than put herself through that.
‘Morning!’ Max boomed as Caleb opened the front door. ‘Caleb, my main man!’ He high-fived his son and then leaned forward, peering inside and glancing around him as if assessing whether or not Emma was taking care of the house. She didn’t invite him in.
‘Hello,’ she said, smiling through tight lips as she looked past him for Chanel. She saw the other woman sitting in the front seat of the car and lifted her hand to wave.
Hey, she could be civil when she wanted to.
Chanel hesitated a moment and then waved back.
‘She’s not coming in?’ Emma asked, turning back to look at Max, smiling as though her heart wasn’t about to shatter into a million pieces.
He looked sheepish. ‘We want to get to the airport and get checked in. Got anything exciting planned for your kid-free fortnight?’
Before she could admit that she had nothing to look forward to besides eating too much, missing the kids and feeling sorry for herself, the twins came charging out of their bedroom, ran down the hallway and hurled themselves at Max. ‘Daddy,’ they both shrieked, as if they were five years old, not almost fifteen. For a few months after the split they’d refused to talk to him, but when he started buying them everything they wanted, they’d quickly forgiven his sins. Sometimes they even made an effort with Chanel; although to Emma’s secret joy, they mostly hated that a woman barely older than them had the power to twist their father around her little finger.
‘Sweethearts,’ Max said, in a voice that had once made Emma’s insides liquidise but now sounded like nails down a blackboard. ‘Are you all ready to go?’
‘Born ready.’ Caleb bent over and hitched his backpack up off the floor and onto his shoulder.
‘Dad, we might need some help with our luggage,’ Louise said, gesturing to the suitcases lined up on the front porch.
Laura nodded. ‘They’re a little bit heavy.’
Max looked back to Emma and frowned. ‘You didn’t tell them there was a weight limit?’
She shrugged and summoned the most innocent expression she could. ‘I figured you’d just pay for extra baggage.’
Max looked like he had something to say about this but he opened his mouth and then closed it again; he’d never admit to anything that could be seen as a weakness in front of the kids. ‘Say goodbye to your mother then,’ he said eventually.
Caleb swamped her in his embrace. ‘We’ll miss you, Mum. Have fun without us.’
She swallowed a snort as he pulled away again.
Laura and Louise were next—hugging her as one, their conflicting body sprays wafting together to create a sickly aroma. Emma didn’t care; it was the closest they’d got to her in months and having them in her arms was almost worth the disappointment of them going away.
When Louise said, ‘Mum, we’ve got to go,’ Emma realised she was clasping them a little tightly, but she didn’t ever want to let go.
As her hands dropped to her sides and the girls sprang away, panic rose within her; not because she was worried anything would happen to them in Hawaii—she was a travel agent for goodness sake—but because she couldn’t help stressing that after two weeks of the high life the kids might decide they wanted to live with their dad permanently. However much they drove her insane on a daily basis, that would really push her over the edge.
She tried to banish this thought from her head as she watched Max go back and forth to his car with the suitcases. He had one of those flashy four-wheel drives that city people bought because bigger was better. And her heart had a moment of happiness as he struggled to lift the bags off the ground.
‘I’ll help, Dad.’ Before Max could object, Caleb had lifted them into the boot.
Emma stood a few feet away as they all climbed into the vehicle, every bit of her focused on not crying. Somehow she held onto her composure as Max reversed out the driveway and slowly drove out of sight.
Only then did she finally let out her breath and a great big sob.
The couple of weeks since Max had announced the trip had gone by in a flash, but she knew their time away would drag like months rather than days. Especially because their holiday coincided with Neve and Flick’s trip to New York. Keeping herself busy with work was the only way she’d ever get through it, but right now she couldn’t summon any enthusiasm for heading into the travel agency. Patrick had given her the morning off to farewell the kids but now she wished she’d taken the whole day.
She thought of the
tub of chocolate chip ice-cream she’d bought on special last week, then buried at the back of the deep freeze so the children wouldn’t find it. She’d been saving it for a rainy day, and sending her children halfway across the world with her wanker of an ex-husband and his infuriatingly perfect wife definitely qualified as stormy weather.
Chapter Eighteen
Genevieve
Passport. Check. US dollars. Check. Power adaptor. Check. Sexy lingerie? Perhaps not. Her bare necessities make-up kit. Check. Picture of Will to show James. Well, she’d have her phone with her and that had plenty.
At the thought of James, Neve’s fingers shook as she tried to zip up her suitcase. She could manage her anxiety perfectly well as long as she pretended this was a girls’ trip overseas with her two closest friends, but whenever she remembered the real reason, her usually competent self turned into a bundle of nerves. She’d even caught herself biting her nails, which was unforgivable in her profession.
‘Here, let me help,’ Will said as he wandered into her bedroom, smartly dressed in his school uniform and so much like how she remembered James, her heart hurt.
The first time she’d laid eyes on James Cooper had been at a cast party, following the successful opening night of Cats. It was one of the few times the production crew, the cast and the head honchos like the director and the producer got together. Everyone in the theatre was on a high, drinking, dancing, laughing and schmoozing with the key sponsors who liked to be praised and acknowledged for their commitment to the arts. Fancy caterers had been hired in for the occasion, the expensive wine flowed freely and everyone had dressed up to the nines.
It wasn’t that Neve didn’t like parties, but as a mere entry-level make-up artist, the only people who ever seemed to pay attention to her were some of the young male actors. They were unbelievably good-looking but their egos—which she’d experienced first hand when doing their make-up—turned her off. But James was different. Although just as good-looking—more so in her opinion—his flirtations had been much more subtle.
‘What are you doing hiding over here in the corner?’ he’d said by way of greeting as he arrived beside her with a sparkling flute of champagne.
Her fingers instinctively reached out to take it as she replied, ‘Just people-watching.’ Biding time until I can go home to bed probably wasn’t the right answer.
He nodded and leant back against the wall beside her. ‘I like a bit of people-watching myself.’ Then he offered her his hand. ‘I’m James.’
‘I know,’ she replied, trying not to blush at the reaction his hand touching hers caused inside her body. Of course she knew who he was; everyone knew the directors.
‘And you are…?’ he asked with a grin, taking longer than necessary to let go of her hand.
She smiled back. ‘Genevieve Taylor. I’m a make-up artist.’
‘No wonder our cast looked so fabulous on stage tonight. How long have you been working in the theatre?’
She’d given him her answer—a year, but this was her first major production—and he’d delved deeper with his questions. Instead of talking about himself, he wanted to know about her. How she’d gotten into the theatre side of make-up artistry. Whether it was her dream job or merely a stepping stone on the way to something else.
His interest had been intoxicating, as had his smile, his masculine woody scent and the way he looked at her as they chatted—like he might lean forward and kiss her at any moment. And when he had, she’d reassessed her whole thoughts on kissing. A simple four-letter word didn’t seem enough to describe the way James’s mouth—his lips and tongue—had made her feel. No one had ever kissed her like that. Not before. Not since.
‘Mum? Are you coming?’ Will’s voice jolted Neve back to the present. She sucked in a quick breath and smiled at him standing before her carrying her suitcase. ‘Thanks, hon. Are you all packed to stay with Nan and Pop? I’ll drop your stuff at their house after I take you to school.’
‘Yep.’ Will started towards the door but paused as he reached it. ‘Mum, I know you’ve been preoccupied with this big job but have you had any more luck trying to track Dad down?’
The word dad sounded alien coming from his lips, but she made a concerted effort not to flinch. ‘Well, I’ve sent emails to everyone I know who might have an idea of where James is now. I’ve had a few leads and I promise I’m following them through. Try and be patient. You’ve got to trust me on this, sweetheart, and concentrate on your school work.’
‘Yeah, yeah. I will,’ promised Will, his tone petulant as he stalked out of her bedroom with the suitcase.
Neve sighed—although she’d heard plenty of horror stories of moody teenagers, hers had never been one. She guessed it was his right to be sulky and bad-tempered when things didn’t happen immediately. She herself hadn’t possessed an ounce of patience until she’d had a toddler who refused to be rushed in anything. But that toddler had been her world and she’d learnt to adapt, and as he’d grown, they’d become closer. She hated the way this thing about James had changed the dynamics of their relationship.
Whereas they used to hang out together in the evenings—talk about their days over dinner—for the last couple of weeks every conversation had been strained. She’d been constantly on edge, terrified that Will would demand to know more about his father. She’d had the feeling he’d been trying not to say too much, so as not to upset her. But his reference to dad showed that James had been on his mind as much as he’d been on hers. And that was unlikely to change until he knew the truth.
As Neve followed her son towards the front door, she told herself that holding certain things back was for the best, for his own good. She hated lying to him but the thought of telling him the truth terrified her. What if her quest to find James went terribly, terribly wrong? She didn’t want to get Will’s hopes up for an outcome that might not happen. Or worse, have him begging her to take him along as well.
Meeting James alone first was imperative. Without a doubt the man would be shocked. At best he’d be angry; at worse he’d want nothing to do with either of them.
‘Right.’ Neve injected chirpy enthusiasm into her voice. ‘I think we’re ready. I can take my suitcase. You grab your bags and remind me again what presents you’d like me to bring back from New York.’
Flick had said that her two hadn’t held back with their requests and Neve hoped the prospect would cheer Will up but so far he’d shown little enthusiasm.
He picked up his school bag and overnight bag from the floor by the front door. ‘You are going for work, aren’t you?’ It sounded like an accusation, as if he didn’t believe her.
‘Yes, but I’ll have some time to explore. That’s why Flick’s coming along.’ Will didn’t know that Emma would also be joining them. No one did but her, Flick and Emma’s boss Patrick.
Will made some kind of grunting noise in reply and Neve chose not to reprimand him as they locked the house and headed to her car. Usually they had their best conversations in the car, but today they passed the trip to school in silence.
Just as she stopped in the drop-off zone, she had a sudden urge to tell him the truth—the real reason why she was going to New York.
His hand on the door handle, his body poised to exit the car, Neve cried out, ‘Will!’
He turned back to look at her, his steel-blue eyes meeting hers, and all she could think about was how innocent and young he looked. A boy in a man’s body. And with that, she chickened out. ‘Have a good day, darling,’ she said, leaning across to kiss him on the cheek. ‘I’ll call you the moment I land. Be good for Nan and Pop. Love you.’
He sighed the deep sigh of a man four times his age. ‘I will. Love you too, Mum.’ And then he opened the door, climbed out of the car and joined a couple of other boys as they headed into the school.
She watched him go, recalling the first time he’d ever said those three magic words to her. He’d been twenty months old and she’d thought her heart would explode with the love she f
elt for him. Time hadn’t dulled that feeling at all. However much trepidation she felt at the thought of facing James, of telling him the truth, Neve vowed to do whatever it took to make Will’s dream come true.
Chapter Nineteen
Felicity
Her suitcase packed and waiting by the front door, Flick sat at the breakfast bar sipping her second coffee of the day and counting down the hours until Neve arrived and their adventure began. She’d kissed Toby goodbye when he left for the bus, making him promise to be good for Dad while she was away. He hadn’t appeared to notice the tension between his parents but that could be because Seb had been acting as if nothing had changed.
‘You sure you don’t want me to drive you girls to the airport?’ Seb asked now as he loaded the dishwasher like he always did.
‘No thanks,’ she said tersely. ‘I’ve ordered us a car.’
Straightening again, he leaned back against the bench and smiled at her in a manner that until recently had always made every bone in her body turn to jelly. ‘You must be super excited. I must admit I’m a tiny bit jealous. I always hoped the first time you went to America it would be with me.’
Well, we don’t always get what we hope for in life, do we?
Her hands tightened around the mug as she bit back the words. Instead she shrugged and downed the final dregs of her coffee. ‘I’ll buy you a t-shirt,’ she promised as she went to put her mug in the dishwasher. ‘Shouldn’t you be getting off to work?’
He glanced at his watch. ‘No rush. Thought I might say hello to Neve and wave you off.’
Dear God, no! She couldn’t stand another half an hour of him acting as if he hadn’t recently dropped a hand grenade into their marriage. Even though she strongly suspected his attempt at normality was for her, it made her blood boil. When he’d suggested they go to counselling, she’d told him she wasn’t ready to talk to him yet, never mind a professional, and she’d meant it. But not talking, instead letting it fester between them, was just as horrible.
The Art of Keeping Secrets Page 13