Retracting his hand, he scoured it down the side of his leg, and shoved it in his pocket. He jiggled his head, attempting to dislodge the pictures, as the shifting shingle behind him alerted him to Victoria’s presence.
She spoke. ‘If you loved me, why did you leave?’
Chapter Sixteen
Victoria positioned herself between Chris and the stonework. ‘Was it something I did? Am I a poor lover?’
It hurt Chris to know his actions had left Victoria unfulfilled and insecure. That wasn’t who he was. He was not a user, and he hadn’t set out to damage her. He loved her.
There was that word again. He had loved her, but that was a long time ago, and it was Victoria who’d called a halt to their relationship. That fact didn’t help him understand her current distress, or why she was asking questions to which she knew the answers. He needed to start from the beginning, pick through the story and find out at which point it unravelled.
‘I had no choice,’ he said. ‘I had to go.’ He took a deep breath. ‘Before I met you, I’d applied for a summer job in the States. A small film studio offered me six months’ work and the chance of some acting lessons. I was looking to build that into something more, maybe get into an American uni—’
‘University?’ Victoria’s shock was evident. ‘You never said …’
‘My father didn’t explain?’
‘Your father?’ The news further perplexed Victoria. She retreated into the cold statue.
‘Perhaps he was sparing your feelings, the same reason I never mentioned it.’ That was the probable explanation. ‘The thing is, I’d fallen in love, and decided LA could wait. But Dad thought differently. Without me knowing, he’d posted my acceptance and arranged everything, my flight, my apartment, my acting classes. He said he was proud of what I’d achieved, but I had the ability to do more, and this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. He told me not to let him down.’ Chris hesitated, still confused by Victoria’s response. ‘I really thought he’d explained this to you.’
‘So, your father sent you away?’
In a spontaneous move, Chris grabbed Victoria’s hand and pulled it to his chest. ‘It could look like that to outsiders, but I didn’t see it that way. Wheels were in motion. Money had changed hands. And this is my father we’re talking about. I’d not seen him with hope in his eyes since Mum died. He’d had eleven years of misery, but that night … that night, a spark appeared. I couldn’t snuff that out.’
Victoria slipped from his grasp, and the cool air rushed to take her place. The loss was tangible. Chris braced himself, as he realised he’d held another woman’s hand, and he’d done it without a second thought for Lacey. Guilt was bound to feast on his insides. But before he had time to indulge his conscience, Victoria sidled away.
‘Why didn’t you call me?’ she said, scuffing a path over to the edge of the cliff. ‘Why cut me out of your life like I was a malignant cell?’
‘I … didn’t.’ Chris faltered over his words as he mentally replayed the telephone conversation he’d had with his father seventeen years ago. His dad had been very clear about Victoria’s take on the whole true love thing. He’d told Chris she was glad to be shot of him.
He glanced at Victoria. She was wiping her palms across her eyes. Her tears revealed a different story to the one he’d been led to believe.
His head pounded as he tried to take in the enormity of the situation.
He took the spot beside Victoria and looked to the English Channel for assistance. The light was fading fast, and the grey water was reflecting the cloudy sky. It offered only one solution: his father had lied.
With both hands in his pockets and his back hunched, Chris opened his mouth. At first, nothing came, but as he straightened up and breathed in, like a fresh mountain spring, a stream of clarity poured out. ‘I didn’t want to go. I didn’t want to leave you, but when I got home that night, Dad was so happy. He smiled as he told me he’d sold his shares to pay for my expenses in America. All of his shares, even the ones he’d put by for his old age. He’d sold his car too, and I knew how much he loved that. It was a classic. But he wanted me to have the chance to live my dream, and he was prepared to go without for my sake. How could I not go?’
Chris stopped to catch his breath, not daring to look at Victoria. ‘He told me the flight was at six the next morning, and he took me to my room and pointed to my rucksack. He’d packed it. He said we were leaving in ten minutes. Ten minutes! That’s all I had. I spent eight of them throwing up.’
Now Chris was ready to face Victoria. He turned in her direction. ‘I asked him for some time to come and tell you, convince you six months wasn’t forever, that I’d be back, but he said I’d come home so late, we were already way behind schedule. I only just made it onto the plane.’ He paused. His father’s crumpled, red face appeared in his mind’s eye. ‘He promised he’d tell you himself, first thing, and I was going to call you as soon as I’d arrived.’
Victoria was shaking her head. ‘Your father never spoke to me. If he had—’
‘I’ve just worked that out.’ Chris was shaking his head now. ‘He lied to me. He told me you were relieved I’d gone, that I’d saved you the trouble of ditching me, that we’d run our course.’
‘And you believed him?’ The incredulity registered in Victoria’s pitch. ‘After everything we’d done?’
‘He had no reason to lie.’
With his father no longer alive to justify his actions, the only way Chris could handle the deception was to accept it was done with his best interests at heart. It didn’t help shake the shame and embarrassment crawling over him.
‘I don’t think he set out to hurt us, Vicky. He just wanted me to reach my full potential. Have a shot at the big time. And I think he considered you a distraction.’ He quickly adjusted the statement. ‘Not you. Any woman.’ This was going to take some working out. The ramifications of what his father had done were enormous. The what ifs colossal.
‘And then you met Lacey.’
‘And then I met Lacey.’ One of the ramifications.
‘And you fell in love.’
‘Yes.’
Victoria nodded. ‘How did your father feel about your marriage?’
‘He was angry, shocked, told me I needed my head seeing to, but he was five thousand miles away, what could he do? He didn’t come to the wedding. He said he’d spent all of his money on me, and had nothing left. Lacey and I couldn’t afford to cover his costs. I didn’t speak to him for years, not even when the boys were born, then I received a call from the hospital and was told he was in the last stages of liver failure. I managed to get home and see him before … His wish was to be cremated and scattered out to sea, like Mum.’
The conversation drew to a natural close, Chris wearied by his past. He assumed Victoria’s quiet was brought about by her taking on board all he’d said. He hoped she would understand, but above all, he wanted his explanation to take away her pain. He wished for his words to heal, as they had helped Lacey.
He backed away and watched. At least Victoria hadn’t walked off, or thrown herself over the edge. That had to count for something. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I honestly thought I was doing the right thing.’
She teetered, startling Chris into action. He lurched towards her, grabbed her waist and tugged her to safety. ‘What the hell are you doing?’
‘Seeing what it’s like on the other side.’ She wriggled free from his grasp. ‘It must be nice to have all the answers.’
Chris dropped his arms, snorted, and shook his head. ‘I have questions more than answers. What if I’d stayed with you? What if I’d ridden horses instead of motorbikes? What if my dad had left me to live my own life? Huh? Well, then I’d not have met Lacey, not had my sons, not lost half my family to the goddamn, bloody, awful accident.’
He pummelle
d his head with his fists, and collapsed to his knees, white dust pluming out in front of him. ‘This whole thing is one horrific tragedy from start to finish.’ He looked at Victoria. ‘You asked me what happened, and I told you. I even apologised. What more do you want?’
After a moment’s quiet, and with her eyes scrunched tight, Victoria said, ‘I want it to stop hurting.’
When Victoria relaxed her eyes, she saw Chris standing in front of her, his head to one side and his brow furrowed. She noticed a scar running across his forehead. It was white in comparison with his bronzed skin. An old injury. The temptation to touch it was compelling, but she couldn’t allow her fingers to go there; they might wander.
She couldn’t think like that. She had to be single-minded. She had to achieve closure, because that would bring her peace. And help Seth.
But it was impossible to focus with Chris breathing on her neck. She couldn’t think straight when he angered her, frustrated her, excited and thrilled her. She wanted to kick him and caress him, repel and embrace him. Hate and love him.
She’d heard his explanation, and she believed him. She remembered his father. He was a self-absorbed, balding gorilla, who pointed and grunted as his means of communication, and beat his chest whenever he was challenged. At the time, Victoria determined he must have suffered a loveless childhood, but now conceded it was more likely his way of coping with losing his wife. The sad fact was, his behaviour directly impacted on Chris’s life, ensuring his upbringing was centred on making his father happy. Chris discarded everything else dear to him, including Victoria, who, in turn, disconnected from the real world. And from her son.
Seth’s angelic face floated through her mind. He was born perfect, with no marks, no scars, and no preconceptions, and yet, he could behave like a beast. He was the result of her input. He was her creation.
Now, more than ever, Victoria knew she had to break the chain, and offer Seth unconditional love; the love she saw between Chris and Rick.
And now, more than ever, she should put the past behind her. Forgive, then forget Chris.
But a cloud of yearning didn’t evaporate into the mist; it hovered, it followed and it rained down, cycle after cycle, each downpour as heavy as the last, never washing her clean.
What a mess. ‘We need to get back.’ She balanced her weight on her front foot, and took five quick steps in succession, on the decline of a slope. It was all downhill from there.
Her hand was given a gentle nudge. Chris had fallen in beside her.
‘Tell me what it’ll take to stop the pain,’ he said. ‘And if I can help, I will.’ He brushed her fingers again.
That was three times he’d touched her hand. What he was doing and what he was saying was inconsistent, and the illogical nature of his words and actions threw Victoria into a dizzy confusion.
Then it struck her. He was in chaos. His thoughts and emotions were in conflict. It was down to Chris to decide whether to follow his head or follow his heart.
Earlier, when he explained his extreme reaction at Victoria’s attempt to comfort him, it resonated with her. She understood the desire to keep precious memories close – she had too few to throw away. She’d held onto her and Chris’s time together for her entire adult life. She’d lost hours, possibly nights to intense fantasies, imagining and reliving the mood, recapturing the sensuality and sexuality of the evening on the beach. She lived in her dreams. She connected. And she fought a very private battle to preserve the sensations and passion Chris left behind, because that was all she had.
She lost her footing and skidded down the hill, landing on her backside, winded.
‘Vicky!’ Chris covered the distance between them with one leap. ‘Okay?’
‘I would be if my hair wasn’t debuting its Lord of the Dance routine.’ She directed her cast into a chorus line, and tutted.
Chris, with one leg raised on a boulder, and his hands on his hips, smiled. ‘If you’re still bothering with that, I’ll assume there are no broken bones.’
‘I don’t think so.’ Victoria flexed her ankles. ‘At least I missed the rabbit … sorry, bunny droppings.’ Portland habits. Portland myths. No one said rabbit around the quarries. The creatures, albeit indirectly, were held responsible for quarry collapses and the deaths of workers.
Chris covered his mouth with the back of his hand and shook his head. ‘They’re meant to signify a rock fall, not Victoria falls.’ He pointed to something behind Victoria.
She followed the line of his finger. What once would have been a smattering of little black pellets now resembled a miniature cow pat, where, Victoria presumed, her bottom had squashed them together; a rabbit-dropping patty.
She could still think the word.
‘Another trail of devastation?’ Chris failed to stifle his laugh.
Victoria raised an eyebrow and produced her steeliest of stares, so much so her sockets and cheekbones ached.
Resting on his elevated leg, Chris was chuckling. ‘Come on, Vicky. It’s funny.’ He offered his hands. She refused. ‘The old Vicky would have found it hilarious.’
‘Well, she got left behind years ago.’ Victoria flipped onto her knees, pushed herself up, and brushed herself down. ‘Life got serious.’
She proceeded to the bottom of the hill, abandoning the old quarry to the distance and Chris to his rock.
‘Life got very serious, didn’t it?’ he said, as he caught up. ‘And me leaving was part of the reason.’
‘Until a few moments ago, it was all of the reason.’ What was the point in saying anything other than the truth? Victoria was responsible for opening this particular can of worms, so she might as well pick at its contents. ‘I blamed you for everything, my mistrust of men, my divorce, my diabolical attempt at being a mother. I traced it back to the night you left me.’
‘Okay. So tell me about your husband.’
That was his response to her statement of blame? Astonishing. ‘My ex-husband,’ she muttered. ‘Ben. We met at a New Year’s Eve party. He was a friend of a friend of Juliette’s. I’d shut myself away, but she nagged me to go to this wretched do, promising it would make me feel better. Even Dad pestered me, saying it was unhealthy for a girl my age to be shut away.’
‘So you went, and there you met Ben. What happened next?’
‘I fell for his charm. He was easy to talk to, laid-back, good-looking. I thought he was the one to fix me.’
‘Did you love him?’
Victoria squirmed. This baring your soul lark was uncomfortable, and she knew her answer was a little contentious. ‘Not how I expected, but I was happy to marry him. Life was steady. Everything was as it should be, but there was no magnificent spark.’ Her laugh was wistful. ‘No fireworks.’ She slowed her pace as they neared the fishermen’s cottages. ‘It was like my house; a perfect front, but a mess inside.’ She stopped, leaned against the wall of the first terrace, and sighed. ‘And then we had Seth.’
She related the story of how Ben had reneged on his word, and how she’d chosen work over Seth. Chris, his attentive brown eyes scanning her every word, responded with nods and quiet replies and promises of help, if indeed, that was what Victoria wanted.
‘It’s my fault,’ she concluded. ‘I should have taken responsibility for my actions years ago, but admitting I was failing as a mother was tough. Is tough.’ She lowered her head. ‘Life has changed me, and I don’t like who I’ve become. I’d love to have some of that old Vicky back.’
‘I’ve seen flashes,’ Chris said. ‘She’s still there. Time and experiences do change us. It’s inevitable. But the core, the very soul of who we are must remain, don’t you think?’
He stepped into the road and sat on the kerb, reclining on his outstretched arms. ‘You say we’ve both changed, but I bet our goals aren’t that far apart.’ He sprang up from the verge, reached inside
his jacket, and produced a pen and a scrap of creased paper. He examined it, accepted it was fit for purpose, and then scribbled on its reverse.
Victoria waited, enjoying his energy.
‘Tell me your greatest wish. The one thing you’d sell your soul to achieve. Then we’ll see if we match.’ He cocked a brow. ‘Be honest.’
‘To find my son,’ she said, surprised by the speed with which she’d answered, and with the reply itself. Seth was to the forefront of her mind, a place he rarely occupied. It was a peculiar feeling – a fusion of guilt and elation. ‘He’s lost, trapped in the ruins of my mistakes.’ She paused as visions of her crumbling cottage reminded her how easily he could have gone from her life. ‘I need to find a way through.’
‘I’ve had an idea.’ Chris checked his note, screwed it into a small ball, and thrust it in his trouser pocket. ‘It’s a bit radical, so don’t feel pressured to answer today.’ He pointed to Victoria’s cottage. ‘You can’t live there, because it’s a deathtrap, and you’ve said yourself, your dad’s bungalow isn’t big enough for three of you, so that leaves you with two quick-fix options – renting or moving back to London. Right?’
Victoria gave a hesitant nod, unsure as to where Chris’s words were leading. ‘I don’t want to go back to London,’ she said. ‘I’ll be sucked deep into the corporate world I’m trying to escape.’
‘So, that leaves renting.’ Chris turned to her. ‘I’ve plenty of space at the castle. You and Seth could live there. Just until you’re sorted.’
‘What?’ She choked with surprise. ‘No. No. I don’t think that would be a good idea. What will the boys think?’
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