Forgive Me

by Susan Lewis

  Although most had already seen the place while the work was being done, Wilkie, Leanne’s mother, had not been among them so Leanne appointed herself guide and took both her and Tom on a grand tour. As they went into the sitting room for the first stop Richie plugged in his phone to play some music, and Jasmine and Abby began passing around plastic trays of canapés.

  Noticing Dan beside the Aga leafing through the album she’d put together of “before” photos, Claudia made herself go and join him.

  “You’ve done a remarkable job with this place,” he commented glancing up to see it was her.

  “I had a lot of help from Andee,” she said modestly.

  “Just so you know,” Andee called out, “all the whacky ideas are hers—and if you’re into draperies you’ll be swooning by the time you’ve seen them all.”

  “I reckon we should call Interiors magazine to get them to photograph the place,” Abby suggested. “I mean when it’s properly finished.”

  “Oh, please, no publicity,” Jasmine cried, making her genuine protest sound like mock horror.

  “Carpets!” Wilkie declared excitedly when she came back into the kitchen with Leanne and Tom. “You have carpets in the bedrooms and the bathrooms. It makes everything so cozy, so ready to be lived in.”

  “The free-standing tubs blew her away too,” Leanne announced, “especially the one in your bathroom that’s next to a fireplace.”

  “I was very tempted to get in,” Wilkie admitted. “I’m sure I would have if the fire had been lit. It’s all so beautiful, my dear, and such a long time since this house was properly loved, but there’s no doubt it will be now. Champagne, someone, let’s drink another toast to the ladies of Haylesbury Coach House.”

  As everyone echoed the lively rhythm of the words, Henry decided to swing Marcy into a dance and Richie did the same with Wilkie. There was soon so much laughter and joie de vivre in the room that Claudia felt as intoxicated as if she’d drunk an entire bottle herself. She was hoping to talk some more with Dan, but then Leanne came to join them, and when she began asking his advice about a legal case she was involved in, Claudia discreetly moved away.

  She wasn’t sure who asked Jasmine to play the violin, she only knew it was going to happen when it began. Everyone stopped to listen, eyes shining with pleasure as they were lulled into the sweetness and drama of Brahms’s Sonata No. 3. Then they were laughing as she broke into a joyous Irish jig, and marveling as she followed up with a medley of famous pop songs before finishing with Gershwin’s “Summertime.”

  She radiated so much delight as she took the applause that Claudia had to swallow a lump in her throat. Joel would have been so proud of his girl, and the fact that she’d just played his violin for the first time in front of an audience was something that only she and Marcy knew. Claudia wanted to tell everyone, but understood why Jasmine hadn’t; it might have brought a somber note to this wonderful evening of celebration.

  “Wow, am I glad that I have my ticket for the opening night of the concert,” Dan declared, coming to stand with Claudia again. “She isn’t just talented, she’s gifted.” He frowned. “Is one better than the other?”

  Claudia laughed. “I don’t know, but I understand your meaning, and on her behalf, thank you.” Then without giving herself the chance to back down, she added, “Would you like to sit with us for the opening night? It’ll be me, Mum, and Henry in our box, but there’s room for one more.”

  His eyes widened with surprise and pleasure. “I’d love to, thank you,” he replied. He seemed about to say more, but stopped himself.

  “Go on,” she prompted.

  He laughed. “I was going to overdo things by asking if you’d like to meet for dinner some time before that, but I realize . . .”

  “I would,” she told him. “Thank you. Do you have my number?”

  He pulled a comical face, and she blushed as she remembered asking Andee not to give it to him.

  “I’ll call you,” he promised after storing the number in his phone, “but I’m afraid I have to go now, an early start tomorrow. Thanks for the invite tonight, it was good to be here for this special occasion.”

  “Thank you for coming. I’ll walk you to the door.”

  “No, don’t leave your guests. Just let me know if you need help with anything as you’re settling in. You never know, I might be useful.”

  HE CALLED THE very next day, just as Claudia was about to tear out her hair with frustration. How could she not have realized these antiquated dining chairs, bought at auction, had such uneven legs, and how was she going to balance them? When her phone rang with a number she didn’t know she was tempted to ignore it, but just in case it was a delivery driver needing directions she clicked on with a tired “Hello?”

  “OK, I’m going to either provide a welcome break, or get my head bitten off for calling at the wrong time.”

  When she recognized the voice immediately, her irritation fled. “Hi,” she said, abandoning her impossible task and sitting up against an unpacked box.

  “Is this too soon?” he asked dryly.

  She gave a laugh. “No, it’s fine.”

  “So how are things going? Great party, by the way.”

  “Thank you, and I’m glad you rang now because I was about to stab something with a chair leg.”

  “Ouch! Anything I can do?”

  “It’s OK, I’ll work it out. So how are you?”

  “I’m good, thanks, apart from feeling as though the RJ program is taking over my life. It’s why I’m calling, because it’s going to have me pretty tied up most evenings for the foreseeable and I didn’t want you to think I was backing out of our dinner. So I thought if I rang now and we put a date in the diary, I’d make sure to work around it.”

  “That sounds a good idea,” she responded, hoping she hadn’t sounded as eager as she felt—or as apprehensive, but she wasn’t going to allow herself to dwell on that. “I’m free most of the time, or at least I can be flexible, so I’m happy to fit in with you. Oh, apart from Mondays and Thursdays; that’s when I go to watch Jasmine rehearsing with her violin teacher.”

  “Four weeks to the opening night,” he responded. “Does she suffer with nerves?”

  “Some days are worse than others, but I think she’ll be pretty wound up by the time it comes around.” She glanced up as her mother passed her a cup of tea and mouthed a thank-you.

  “Is that him?” Marcy whispered.

  Claudia raised her eyebrows—all the answer her mother needed.

  “So, how about next Friday?” he suggested. “I have a meeting at six, but I should be through by seven so I could pick you up at eight? Is that too late?”

  Disappointed it wasn’t going to be sooner, she said, “No, but to save you driving all the way here, why don’t I meet you somewhere in town? Or how about the Mermaid in Hope Cove? That would be an equal distance for us both?”

  “Perfect. One of my favorites. I’ll book it right away for seven forty-five. You should have my number now, so you can call if something comes up and you need to change.”

  “I’m sure it’ll be fine. I’ll look forward to it.”

  “Me too.”

  As the line went dead Claudia clicked off her end and continued to sit where she was, going over everything that had been said. Perhaps the best part of the call, she realized, was the fact that he didn’t appear to be trying to sweep her off her feet the way Marcus had when she’d first known him. He hadn’t been able to wait to see her, and had made it happen virtually every day until eventually he’d charmed her right into marriage.

  Sickened by the thought of it, she picked up her phone as it bleeped with a text. Mermaid booked for 7.45 next Friday. Dan. No kisses, no smiley faces or other emoticons to make her laugh or feel anxious or pressured, unintentional as that would be, just “Dan.”

  “SO,” ANDEE SAID with a smile as she joined Dan in his conference room where they often held their RJ meetings. This evening they were due to meet with a
couple whose beloved dog had been abducted when a car thief had made off with their Volvo while they were loading groceries into the boot. Andee had spent many hours with the owners over the last few weeks, discussing the effects it had had on their mental health, mainly because of what might have happened to the dog—he was safe—and the fear that something awful like it might happen again.

  At the same time, Dan had been talking to the perpetrator who’d been released on bail after his arrest.

  Looking up from the file in front of him Dan regarded her curiously, apparently sensing she wasn’t about to discuss the case.

  “Did you call her?” Andee asked, taking off her coat and hanging it on the stand beside the door.

  “I did,” he replied, making a show of continuing his annotations. “Two days ago, and we’re meeting at the Mermaid next Friday.”

  Andee’s smile widened. “Just what I wanted to hear,” and sitting down at the table, she began to unpack her files. “Are you going to ask her anything about . . . ?”

  “Who she really is? Of course not, unless she brings it up, but I don’t think she will.”

  Andee didn’t think she would either, and letting the subject drop for the moment she opened her laptop to the notes she’d made during her most recent session with the dog owners. They, and the person who’d harmed them (to use RJ speak), were due to arrive ten minutes from now, so there was plenty of time for her and Dan to acquaint each other with how far they’d come with other cases these past few weeks.

  The meeting went well, and by the time it was over the pet owners were much closer to believing that the “abductor” had not targeted them personally. He’d had no idea that there was a dog in the car when he’d taken it, and he had zero intention of ever doing anything to harm them again. So both sides left satisfied with the encounter, and thankful that they’d engaged in the process.

  It had been one of their easier cases.

  “How are you getting along with the girl who was stabbed?” Dan asked as he and Andee packed up their notebooks and laptops.

  “Pauline Mansfield. She’s still not sure about meeting her attacker, but her counselor’s advising it so we’re meeting again next week.”

  “OK, just keep me updated.”

  “Of course. So now, would you like to come home with me for something to eat?”

  Checking his watch, he said, “It’s late, so I’ll take a rain check if you don’t mind. I’ve got a lot of day stuff to catch up on.”

  “No problem. Email me some of the RJ referrals if you like, let me help to assess and assign.”

  As they left the room to enter his office, he said, “Going back to Claudia. I’ve been debating with myself whether or not to do some research on Marcus Huxley-Browne.”

  Andee’s eyebrows rose. “With a view to mediating between them?” she asked skeptically.

  He let out a laugh. “God no, I’d have to be insane to consider that when she’s gone to such lengths to escape him. I wouldn’t even want to admit I know his name.”

  “So why do you want to find out more about him?”

  “Natural curiosity, I guess, and maybe it’ll give me an insight into what sort of life she had before coming here.” He was looking and sounding doubtful about his own proposal. “I guess it’s a bad idea, too interfering, too . . . disloyal somehow. Forget I said anything, but thanks for listening. It helped me come to a decision.”

  THE FOLLOWING FRIDAY came around so quickly that Claudia felt slightly bemused by how slowly the time had seemed to pass until right this minute. Each day, crammed as it was with client meetings, location visits, unpacking her own home, and buoying Jasmine through her bouts of nerves, had seemed to drag endlessly. And yet here she was now, wondering where the time had gone, and what to wear, what to talk about, should she be a little late so he got there first, or slightly early so she was waiting for him?

  The problem of what to wear was solved by her mother and Jasmine, who were unanimous in approval of black jeans, pale pink blouse, and wedge ankle boots. Not flashy or seductive, perfect for the pub and a first date.

  “Get him to talk about himself,” her mother advised when Claudia sought advice on this much trickier matter. “Men love talking about themselves.”

  “That’s true,” Jasmine agreed, as if she had all the experience in the world. “But if you run out of stuff you can always talk about me, because what could be more fascinating than how I’m going off my head trying to study, sit mocks, and rehearse for the concert all at the same time?”

  “You’re doing brilliantly at it all,” Marcy told her. “Your talents know no bounds, and apparently I’m doing pretty well too, according to Leanne. Working at Glory Days two afternoons a week is suiting me down to the ground.”

  Smiling and hugging her mother, Claudia said, “She’s lucky to have you.”

  With an overly modest sigh, Marcy said, “Maybe, but she misses Klaudia since she left for Ireland, that’s for sure, and those are shoes I cannot fill unless I want to commit to three full days a week, which I don’t. Anyway, time to get yourself off. Are you sure you wouldn’t like one of us to drive you there and pick you up again later?”

  “I’ll be fine,” Claudia assured her. “This way I’ll be less likely to drink and end up saying something I might regret.”

  By the time she got to the pub it was crowded, not unusual, but Dan had already texted to say that he was at a table in the library snug, just off the main bar, so she found him with no trouble. As he got up to greet her she felt so nervous and pleased to see him that she choked on a laugh and bumped his glasses as he embraced her.

  “I’m sorry,” she wailed as he straightened them.

  “Don’t be. They’re always in the way. You look lovely—if I’m allowed to say so.”

  “Thank you.” She smiled. “So do you.”

  He laughed and gestured for her to sit in the chair opposite his, which was beside a window seat where she could put her bag and, had there been moonlight, they’d have been able to watch the waves lapping the grainy shore.

  “What will you have to drink?” he asked, handing her a cocktail menu. “Some of them have quite raunchy names, so a warning here, I might blush if you suggest a comfortable screw against the wall, or sex on the beach.” Even as he said it, he was reddening, and how could she not warm to him for that?

  “Maybe wine is safer,” she suggested.

  “You could be right. They serve a great white Rioja here. Would you like to try it? If you haven’t already had it.”

  “I haven’t and I would,” she confirmed, “provided you’re having some too.”

  “Oh, I’m definitely up for it,” and signaling to a young girl whom he called by name, he placed their order and added a bottle of sparkling water.

  “You know her?” Claudia asked as the waitress took off to the bar.

  Leaning in conspiratorially he said, “She’s going through the RJ process at the moment as a person responsible for harm, as we term it.”

  “You mean she committed a crime?”

  “She did, but she’s very sorry and promises she’ll never whack a queue jumper again, not even one who calls her the n word.”

  Claudia grimaced. “And the person she whacked?”

  “Is sorry too, but to be honest, I think the racism runs deep in her veins, so I’m not convinced that word won’t blast out of her again at some time in the future. Still, we’ll have to deal with that then; right now we have much more important things on the agenda, such as what we’re going to eat.”

  As they chose their food and the wine was poured, more of Dan’s clients—from RJ cases and his law firm—dropped by to say hello, much to Claudia’s amusement and his frustration.

  “I promise, I had no idea just about everyone I know would be here this evening,” he told her, after a thickset tattooed man had insisted on shaking his hand and telling Claudia how, thanks to “this bloke here,” he’d become good mates with the lowlife who’d broken into h
is house and robbed him.

  In a quiet voice Claudia said, “I know this is unforgivable stereotyping, but if you’d asked me to guess I’d have said he was the person responsible, rather than the one who was harmed.”

  Dan laughed. “And another time you wouldn’t have been wrong, because he’s been on the other side of the table before now. It worked for him then, which is why he’s prepared to give it a go now.”

  Nodding her understanding, she asked him more about his role as a practitioner, genuinely interested to know, and he seemed quite relaxed to talk about it. It was a good way to keep the subject away from her, although it wasn’t long before he was asking how everything was going at the house. She was glad to entertain him with the frustrations and disasters of the last ten days, and to admit to how much she already wanted to change.

  They talked about Jasmine and the other acts who’d been booked for the concert; about Marcy and her new job at Glory Days; and about Leanne’s offer to let him rent the house at Ash Morley that Klaudia had left.

  “I was tempted,” he admitted, “but I need to get back on the property ladder with a place of my own.”

  “Are you looking?”

  “I would if I had more time, but I’m in no hurry. The flat suits me well for now, although living over the shop does mean I keep forgetting to take time off. I imagine it’s a bit the same for you, working from home.”

  “It is,” she admitted, “but I love my new craft room so I’m happy to spend as much time in it as I can. Unfortunately, it’s not as much as I’d like because I’ve been very lucky with all the orders that have come my way since I did the show home, so I’m often out measuring or fitting, or picking up and delivering to the machinists. I haven’t made much for the coach house yet, apart from the drapes of course, and a few other things here and there.”

  “So, what else would you like to add?” he asked.

  Not sure if he was really interested, she decided to go with it and said, “More lamps. Those I’ve made since coming to Kesterly are mostly of driftwood and pebbles, so they’re more suited to a place near the beach. For where we are now, I’d like to let myself loose on so many things I hardly know where to start.”