You and Me, Always

by Jill Mansell

  Lily, who had been bracing herself all evening—all week, if she were being honest—saw that it was essentially a nonstory. Having scanned Keir Bourne’s words, she felt the tension seep out of her body, all the pent-up anxiety magically receding.

  “Oh, thank God. I thought he was going to say all sorts of horrible things.” She took a glug of Dan’s wine, because her own glass was empty. “But he hasn’t badmouthed me at all.”

  Now that Keir hadn’t, she almost felt guilty for having thought he might.

  “Well, what would that have made him look like? Anyway”—Declan raised his own glass to her—“good news. Here’s to you.”

  “Cheers.” Lily clinked and took another glug.

  “I’d say cheers too,” Dan said mournfully, “but someone stole my drink.”

  Lily studied the photos accompanying the article more carefully. The first, of the reunion itself, looked every bit as uncomfortable as it had felt: two strangers awkwardly encountering each other on the street. The second, presumably taken afterward, showed Keir Bourne looking sad, and the accompanying text quoted him as saying, “It wasn’t the outcome I was hoping for, but I respect Lily’s decision not to want any further contact with me. There’s nothing more to be done. I just wish her and Eddie Tessler all the very best for the future.”

  The third and final photograph was of Keir Bourne’s ex-wife and teenage daughter, neither of whom spoke to him any longer. The ex-wife, Tanya, had told Shaz, “You want my honest opinion? Sure about that? OK, Keir Bourne was a lousy husband and father who was capable of turning on the charm when it suited him. He had several affairs that I knew of, and I’m sure there were plenty more I never got to hear about. Our lives are far happier now without him around to mess us about, and I don’t blame Lily one bit for not wanting anything to do with him. That kind of hassle has to be the last thing she’d need.”

  The daughter, Sasha, was equally blunt. She said, “Lily’s well off out of it. Trust me, she hasn’t missed out on anything, not having our father in her life. I’m fifteen years old, and last Christmas, he gave me a teddy bear he’d bought in a gas station on Christmas Eve. I know this because he left the receipt in the plastic bag it was wrapped in.”

  Finally, asked if she was curious to meet her older half sister, the girl had replied, “To be truthful, I’m not interested. I mean, Lily’s pretty and everything, but the two of us don’t look anything alike. Seeing photos of her doesn’t make me long to meet her just because we happen to have the same biological father. Especially when we both wish we didn’t. Still, she seems like a nice person, so good luck to her. And if she happens to read this, here’s a message from me: Hi, Lily, you had a lucky escape!”

  Lily finished reading. “That poor girl. She sounds great, though.”

  Dan smiled. “She sounds exactly like you.”

  Ha, she hadn’t even realized it, but of course he was right. Studying the photograph more closely, Lily saw the clean angles of Sasha’s face, the bright, defiant gleam in her blue eyes, and the determined tilt of her chin. She was small and pale, with poker-straight dark hair. There might not be any physical similarity between them, but Sasha’s comments were undoubtedly the kind Lily herself would have made at that age.

  “Good for her,” she said with affectionate empathy. “She’ll be fine.”

  “You could contact her if you want to,” Declan said. “Write a letter; tell her you’d like to meet up.”

  But Lily was already shaking her head. “It’s OK. She’s not interested. You can’t force these things. She knows where I am if she changes her mind. And there’s no hurry. Maybe she’ll be in touch a year from now, or ten years. She’s only fifteen. Let her do it in her own time.”

  * * *

  Declan walked Lily back to Goldstone House, then returned to the cottage and helped Dan clear away the dishes on the living room table.

  “Thanks for offering to put me up,” he said as Dan poured them both a nightcap.

  “No problem. It’s good to have you here.” Dan raised his tumbler of Scotch. “You haven’t mentioned Gail all evening. Is she going to be coming down any time this week?”

  Declan paused; he hadn’t told Lily his relationship with Gail was over. But that was at least partly because he hadn’t wanted to detract from Lily’s own current issues. He shook his head. “She’s not coming down. We’ve called it a day.”

  “You have?” Dan was interested. “Why?”

  Well, he wasn’t going to tell him that. Declan shrugged. “Just wasn’t working out. You know when it’s right…”

  “And it wasn’t right,” Dan concluded with a nod. “Same with Anna.”

  “I haven’t told Lily. She’s got enough to think about at the moment.” The other, somewhat less altruistic reason had to do with him wanting to be the one who told Coral so he could see her reaction face-to-face.

  “Fine, it’s just between us.” As Declan began filling the sink with hot water and dish detergent, Dan said, “I’m not great at doing the dishes, but I can put stuff away.”

  “No problem. I’ll do this bit. Can you pass me those plates?”

  Limping across the kitchen, Dan carried the plates over with his good hand, and Declan plunged them into the soapy water.

  “We’re like Jack Lemmon and Walter Matthau in The Odd Couple.” Dan grinned. “Two single men living together. Can I be Walter Matthau?”

  “Definitely.” Unable to resist asking, Declan rinsed a plate and said, “What caused the split between you and Anna, then?” Not that he’d ever met her himself, but Lily had told him all about Dan’s revolving-door attitude toward dating the opposite sex.

  Dan glanced at him, then shrugged and looked away. “Like I said, pretty much the same as you. When I was younger, I’d just go out with whoever I liked because they were easy enough to spend a bit of time with. But I’m getting older now, and it needs to be more than that. It needs to mean more. If they aren’t someone you know you definitely want to spend the rest of your life with…well, it just seems kind of pointless.”

  From the look on his face, Declan guessed that Dan had surprised himself with this confession. At a guess, it wasn’t the kind of thing he’d find easy to admit to work colleagues and friends his own age.

  “I think you’re probably right. Good for you.” Declan nodded easily. “It’ll happen one day. How about Lily?” he continued, changing the subject to what had been uppermost in his own mind tonight. “What do you think’s going to happen when Patsy comes back? Do you suppose they’ll be able to sort themselves out?”

  When there was no reply, he turned to look at Dan and saw how very much it evidently mattered to him. There was heightened color in his tanned cheeks and tension visible in his jaw. Finally, he exhaled and said, “Bloody hell, I hope so. But I really don’t know.”

  Chapter 39

  “Hey, how are you?”

  Lily experienced a fresh pang of guilt at the sound of Eddie’s voice. “Um, I’m fine, but a bit, you know…”

  “Let me guess. Busy.” His response was good-natured but resigned. Which was hardly surprising, since this was the third time today he’d called her and she’d been unable to speak to him.

  “I’m sorry, it’s just been chaos here. I’ve been rushed off my feet. And there are people lining up now… Can I call you back later?”

  “You said that three hours ago.”

  “I know. We haven’t stopped for a minute. Look, I’ll definitely call you at six o’clock.”

  “Fine,” Eddie said. “Let’s hope I’ll be free then.”

  “Sorry.” Lily lifted her hair away from where it was stuck to the back of her neck.

  “It’s OK. I know what it’s like.”

  “Excuse me,” snapped a tall woman clutching two cast-iron door knockers and a handful of doorknobs. “Could I possibly buy these, or shall I just put
them in my handbag and leave?”

  “I have to go,” Lily told Eddie.

  “Don’t work too hard,” he said in the moment before she hung up.

  At five thirty, Lily closed the yard for the day. Once she’d locked up the office and said good-bye to Marty, she headed over to the house, where she found Dan waiting for her on the doorstep.

  He grinned at her. “Hi. Looking hot.”

  “In a fabulous way or a sweaty way?” Since her hair was once again plastered against her neck and her T-shirt was dusty and damp, Lily suspected she knew which.

  “Stop fishing for compliments, you.”

  “What’s that?” She pointed to the cooler at his feet.

  “It’s an ambulance.”

  “Ha-di-ha. I mean, what’s in it?”

  “Change of plan.” Having earlier volunteered to cook dinner at the cottage for the three of them, Dan picked up the cooler and followed her into the house. “Declan’s staying on at Weaver’s Cottage to get the kitchen finished before the countertops arrive tomorrow. He won’t be back before midnight. So I thought I’d take you somewhere special instead.” He gestured with pride at the cooler. “I’ve made us a picnic.”

  “Nice. And how are you planning to take me there exactly? By giving me a piggyback ride?”

  “You’ll have to drive us,” Dan said.

  As if she hadn’t guessed. “Where are we going, then?”

  “Back in time.” His dark eyes glittered with mischief. “Don’t ask. You’ll like it, though. I promise.”

  “Give me half an hour.” She kicked off her flip-flops and headed for the staircase. “I need to shower and change first.”

  * * *

  Under the stream of lukewarm water, Lily massaged her aching temples and let the shampoo suds cascade over her face. It had been a long week. She’d been working hard, keeping herself busy to not have to think about Patsy. The weather had grown steadily warmer, and today the sun had blazed down, turning the yard into a complete heat trap.

  Dressed once more, this time in a purple cotton sundress, she threw herself onto the bed and called Eddie in New Zealand.

  “Hi,” he said when he answered. “Sorry, it’s my turn to be busy now.”

  Lily’s heart sank. “Oh no, that’s a—”

  “Joking.” This time she heard the smile in his voice. “I’m fine to talk. How are you doing?”

  “Exhausted. Did I wake you up?”

  “It’s OK. I couldn’t sleep anyway. The joys of jet lag. How’s Declan coming along with the cottage?”

  “Oh, he’s been working on it nonstop. They’re going to finish installing the kitchen tonight. How about you? What d’you have planned for today?”

  “Interviews. We’re recording a talk show first, then there’s a four-hour press junket this afternoon.”

  Lily said teasingly, “And are there any gorgeous females out there?”

  “I wouldn’t notice. How about you, any irresistible male customers?”

  “God, loads.”

  He laughed. “I miss you.”

  “Miss you too.” He was currently on a tour of New Zealand, Australia, and Singapore, and from there, he had to fly back to New York. They wouldn’t see each other again until the week after next. “Sorry about today.”

  “Don’t worry, can’t be helped. Goes with the territory.” His voice softened. “We’ll make up for it when I get back.”

  Lily wiggled her toes and smiled up at the ceiling. “Yes, we will.”

  * * *

  “You said thirty minutes. You’re late,” Dan said when Lily reappeared. He made himself look disapproving, but the sight of her caused his heart to leap. She was wearing a short purple dress, silver flip-flops, and his favorite scent.

  Lily said, “I was talking to Eddie,” which didn’t make his heart leap, but he was used to putting on a brave front.

  Reaching for the cooler—cleverly, he’d worked out how to loop the handle over the gripper part of the aluminum crutch—he said, “Come along, then. Let’s go.”

  “Bossy.” Lily gave him a nudge.

  “Hungry,” said Dan as they made their way over to the car.

  Twenty minutes later, she realized where they were headed. “Are we going to the Leap?”

  “It’s possible.” Dan grinned at her. “Go on, then. You know the way.”

  They’d almost reached Hestacombe, a village to the west of Stanton Langley. Lily duly turned left and drove along the narrow farm lane.

  “Oh my God, I can’t believe we’re back here,” she marveled. “I haven’t thought about this place for so long. Remember that summer? What if there’s still a bull in the field? If there is, I’m not risking it.” She raised her eyebrows at Dan’s still-plastered foot. “And you definitely can’t.”

  “There’s no bull. I checked.” Two days ago, in a taxi on his way to a physiotherapy appointment in Cheltenham, he’d spotted the turnoff and asked the driver to make a quick detour down the lane. The bull was long gone, the field currently empty.

  Thank God.

  At the end of the overgrown lane, Lily parked on the shoulder. Hauling the cooler out of the trunk of the car, she opened the gate to allow Dan through, then closed it behind them.

  “This is exciting.” She grinned at him as he limped beside her along the perimeter of the field.

  “I thought you’d like it.” Dan was pleased with his idea to bring her here. “You deserve a break after the week you’ve had.”

  He was still slow, though getting better at moving along as the broken bone in his foot had begun to heal. It took them ten minutes to make their way in single file along the stony path that led down through the woods to the water’s edge.

  The trees thinned out, dried grass stalks whipped their legs as they approached their destination, and they finally reached the sun-dappled grassy clearing, with Hestacombe Lake stretching out directly in front of them.

  “Wow,” Lily said.

  “I know.” Dan stood beside her, and together, they surveyed the magical view. The sky was pale cobalt, the water reflecting it a pewter-tinted shade of blue. On the other side of the lake stood the picturesque village of Hestacombe. There were vacation homes visible among the trees and a small artificial beach that had been constructed by the owner of Hestacombe House. They could see several people on the beach, a couple more were swimming and splashing around, and birds were darting and swooping through the still summer air. That was the popular side of the lake, close to a road and easily accessible to all.

  This side was the better one, though; it was the secret side most people would have no idea how to reach. A group of them from school had discovered it one chilly day during the Easter holidays and made it their own. As summer had approached and the days had grown longer and warmer, they’d taken to cycling over here most weekends, hanging out together, playing music, drinking illicit bottles of cider, and inventing games to entertain themselves. Once summer vacation had arrived, it had practically become a home away from home.

  “Nothing’s changed. It’s exactly the same,” Lily marveled. She put the cooler down on the grassy bank, opened it, and shook out the thin blanket. Once the food had been arranged to her liking, they sat down and Dan unscrewed the cap on the bottle of wine he’d packed, along with two acrylic tumblers.

  “Here you go. You can have one glass.” He poured and handed the first one to Lily.

  “Cheers,” she said when his tumbler was filled too. “This is a luxury we didn’t have back then. Posh wine in glasses.”

  Dan grinned. “We used to take turns swigging Blackthorn Cider out of a plastic bottle.”

  “I always was a classy bird.” Lily tossed a cherry tomato high into the air, caught it in her mouth, and crunched it in half with her teeth.

  “See? You still are.”

 
“I know. Sophisticated me.” She clapped a hand to her chest. “Through and through.”

  God, he loved her so much. For a moment Dan found himself winded, unable to speak. He really did love everything about her, from her dancing brown eyes to the way those spirals of tawny-blond hair bounced over her smooth, tanned shoulders, to her unfailing ability to laugh at herself.

  He leaned back with his legs stretched out in front of him and watched the surface of the water shimmer as iridescent dragonflies hovered and danced over it, inches above the surface. He could so clearly remember the time Lily had been floating on her back in the water with her eyes closed and he’d swum silently up behind her. Just as he’d been about to surprise her, a huge dragonfly had darted in front of his face so suddenly that he’d let out a yell and tried to bat it away in a panic, like a complete coward. Lily, in hysterics of laughter, had never let him forget it. Ever since, during quiet moments, it had become something of a standing joke to blurt out, “Dragonfly, waaah!”

  Now, idly nudging his leg with her bare foot, she pointed half a deviled egg at the dancing dragonflies and said, “Do you remember that time you—”

  “Yes, I do.” He rolled his eyes. “Thanks so much for reminding me.”

  “Ha, that was hilarious.” Lily flailed her arms, miming his abject horror. “You were such a big baby.”

  “So you’ve told me, three or four hundred times.”

  She laughed. “Some things improve with repetition. Oh my God, look! I can’t believe it’s still there…”

  Lily was lying on her back now, pointing up into the branches of the huge sycamore tree behind them. Following the direction of her index finger, Dan saw the remains of the old gray rope fastened around one of the thicker branches overhead. Once it had been fifteen feet long; now only a short length with tattered ends remained.

  “It seemed like such a good idea at the time.” Dan was rueful; it had been his idea, after all.

  “Oh, come on. It was a brilliant idea.” Lily turned her head sideways to look at him. “What happened to Kyle wasn’t your fault, was it!”