by Carrie Stone
‘Horse-drawn carriage?’ Megan scrunched up her nose. ‘I’d rather arrive on the back of a goat.’ She laughed, watching as Michael tiredly rubbed his face with his hand, his expression grim.
Sighing, Megan rose from his lap, changing position to sitting upright, tucking her legs underneath her and folding her arms across her chest.
‘What’s wrong, grumpy?’ She poked his bare chest with her index finger, chasing the trail of hair down to his groin with her other hand.
‘Don’t.’ He moved away from her slightly, his tone severe.
Picking up the television remote from the side table next to her, Megan pointed it at the large screen, clicking it off. The room sank into silence as she turned to face Michael. ‘Right, what’s going on? You’ve been off with me all evening and now you’re being plain rude.’
‘I could ask you the same thing, Megan.’ He stared her down, unflinching. He knew there was something wrong – he could tell from the way she behaved every time he raised the subject of their engagement and from the lack of contact they’d had in the past week due to her mysterious ‘unavailability’, but mostly it was obvious from the way she refused to be serious on any matter of importance concerning their relationship.
Her heart pounding in her chest, Megan knew that this was the perfect moment to be honest – the moment to tell Michael that she’d been having doubts and felt she needed more time to consider things. ‘I don’t feel I’ve been any different. It’s you who’s the one with the problem,’ she retorted defensively.
‘You’re sure about that, are you?’ he challenged, noticing a blush spreading across her cheeks. ‘There’s nothing that’s bothering you about us?’ He stared at her intensely, daring her to open up to him. She lowered her eyes, picking at her toenails.
‘I don’t understand what you’re getting at, Michael. If there was something bothering me, I would tell you.’ She stared up at him again, mustering as much conviction as she could, willing herself not to crack and allow everything to come tumbling out. His eyes were kindly, but there was an air of defeat about him, as if he knew already that he’d lost the battle. She couldn’t tell him yet. She wasn’t ready. She’d been going over everything in her mind for the past two days and it was all so confusing….
His shoulders relaxing, he softened his tone. ‘Okay, as long as you’re sure.’ He pulled her towards him, resting her body against his chest and putting his arms around her. ‘I just want you to be happy.’ He stroked her face with his finger and she felt herself shiver at his touch.
‘I am happy.’ It wasn’t a lie, because on one level, she was happy – very happy. She’d never felt quite this optimistic about the possibilities for the future. Yet it wasn’t entirely Michael giving her that happiness – it was also Marcus; Marcus and the possibility that he felt the same way as she did. Tomorrow she would know, finally. Tomorrow she would have her answer. She tried to concentrate on Michael again, the secure, stable and solid Michael who was now gently stroking her hair. She really did appreciate him; it felt so natural and comfortable here with him – but something was missing.…
‘I spoke to my mother earlier, she’s looking forward to our visit at the end of the month.’
Trying not to stiffen, Megan forced her breathing to stay calm. She’d forgotten entirely about spending the weekend in the Yorkshire Dales with Michael and his parents. It seemed completely inappropriate now that she was in quandary with her feelings toward Michael. She couldn’t possibly spend the weekend with his parents, knowing that her heart might lie with another man. It was all the more reason why tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough. She had to know Marcus’s reaction. ‘Great. I’ll have to check again with Jonnie, he’s probably forgotten.’
‘Jonnie? You want Jonnie to come with us?’
Megan sat up slowly, noticing the consternation in Michael’s tone. ‘Not particularly, but you were the one who invited him, remember? You told him that he was welcome – given that he wanted to learn to clay-pigeon shoot and your father can teach him.’
Groaning, Michael closed his eyes tightly. ‘Ohh, so I did. I forgot I’d mentioned it to him.’ He chewed on his lip thoughtfully, a mischievous smile appearing. ‘What if we pack him off to rehab or something instead? Solve two problems at once.’
Appalled, Megan flinched, backing away from him. ‘How can you talk about my brother like that? His addiction isn’t a joke, you know.’
The smile rapidly disappeared from Michael’s face and he reached out for her, grabbing her hand. ‘Oh, come on, gorgeous, I was only kidding around. Of course he’s welcome to come.’
Slapping his hand away, her earlier feeling of uncertainty was replaced with intense dislike as she looked into his eyes. ‘Is that how you see him, then? The “inconvenience” that can be shoved into rehab in order to suit your requirements?’ She knew she was being unfair, but she didn’t care – she thought he’d been different to all the others – that he’d empathised with Jonnie’s addiction. But he wasn’t any different; his comment had just proved that. He was exactly like the others.
Michael grew wary looking at Megan’s thunderous expression, confused as to how she could react so harshly over a flippant comment. He hardly recognised her of late; not only was she being distant but she was overly temperamental - this wasn’t the fun, easy going Megan that he’d asked to marry him.
‘You’re over-reacting and it’s ridiculous. You know, I appreciate that Jonnie has an addiction – but he also has issues he needs to deal with.’ He gently touched her shoulder, feeling hurt when she moved away from him. ‘It’s time you faced up to it, Megan – Jonnie needs to get himself sorted. Maybe rehab would be good for him. We can help him with it.’ Encouraged by Megan’s silence, he continued, on a roll now and wanting to get the issue that had – subconsciously – most been worrying him, off his chest. ‘Any celebration that we arrange to do with our engagement, Jonnie’s going to be tempted to drink – you know that.’ He watched her for a reaction and was pleased when she looked away, feeling that he was finally getting through to her. ‘We need to get him sorted out before then. We don’t want to risk him falling off the wagon again, especially if it’s our special evening or party. He could ruin it for us.’
Megan felt physically sick. She hadn’t expected Michael to fully understand Jonnie’s addiction, neither had she particularly wanted him to – all she’d hoped for was that he understood her part in the matter. Yet, his suggestion had confirmed things. He did view Jonnie as a liability – as a potential threat to his perfectly thought-out engagement party plans. So his answer was to pack Jonnie off to a week’s or month’s retreat and hope to ‘cure’ him – in order to save them the embarrassment of the drama Jonnie could bring to the evening. She turned away from Michael, seeing a side of him that she didn’t particularly like.
‘Let’s not talk about Jonnie any more. I’m not sending him anywhere.’ She stood up, slipping on her shoes, which were beside the sofa.
He looked at her in alarm. ‘Er, where are you going?’
Ignoring him, she reached for her jumper tossed across the back of the dining chair. ‘You just don’t get it, do you? You can’t force an alcoholic to stop drinking. They have to be ready to. It has to be their choice – their decision.’ She took in Michael’s perplexed expression and the way he was running his hands, agitatedly, through his hair and continued. ‘It’s not for us to “fix” Jonnie.’
Michael stood up angrily, grabbing Megan’s arm. ‘To hell with Jonnie, I don’t care about him. I was trying to be helpful.’ Forcing her to stand still and listen to him, he grabbed her other arm. ‘I don’t know what your problem is, Megan. I’m trying here – really trying – and all you’re doing is pushing me away. You’ve been like this all week. What the hell’s going on?’
She stopped struggling against him, feeling deflated and lost. It wasn’t fair of her to take her confusion out on Michael, but it was becoming glaringly obvious that they didn’t share the same id
eals as she’d initially thought. Megan knew that although he thought the suggestion of rehab was helpful, he’d ultimately distanced himself even further from her. It wasn’t his entire fault, though. She too had been playing with fire.
‘I’m sorry.’ And she was, truly sorry. ‘I’m tired, emotional and everything’s getting on top of me this week.’ She looked up into his eyes and took a deep breath, knowing she had to be fair to him; he was a good person – he didn’t deserve to be kept in the dark. ‘I’m not sure things are working, Michael. Between us, I mean.’
He dropped his hands from her arms. ‘I knew it. I knew there was something wrong.’
She reached out for him, wanting to reassure him, seeing the crestfallen look on his face and feeling immediately guilty. ‘I’m so confused about everything. I need time to think, time to see if this is really what I want. I can’t help but feel that maybe we’ve rushed into this engagement too quickly. I’m not sure if it’s right for us.’
‘So, let’s call it off.’ His tone was heavy, unyielding and icily cold. He moved away from her, picking up the empty pizza box from the coffee table. ‘I can’t be with someone that isn’t sure. I’m certain – one hundred per cent certain – that you’re right for me. But if you can’t say the same, then, I’m sorry, but that’s not good enough.’ He crushed the pizza box with one hand, the veins in his neck pulsing outwards in rage.
‘Michael, wait.’ She reached out to stop him from walking towards the kitchen. Ignoring her, he strode ahead. ‘I didn’t mean I don’t have feelings or love you. I do. I’m just saying I’m uncertain whether we should have spent more time as a couple – getting to know one another – before we rushed into engagement.’
Turning to her with a look of absolute fury, Michael banged down the empty pizza box onto the work surface. ‘Go home, Megan. You’ve said enough and right now, I’m too hurt and angry to speak any more on the matter. Go have your think, but in the meantime I’m calling things off. I deserve more than someone who isn’t sure if I’m what they really want.’ His voice cracking, he turned his back to her, feeling as if she’d opened his chest, pulled out his heart and ripped it into two pieces.
‘I’m so sorry, Michael.’
There was nothing more to be said. Picking up her bag, she made her way out of his apartment; never in her life had she felt more awful and disapproving of herself for causing someone so much heartbreak. By the time she’d reached the ground floor, she couldn’t distinguish if the tears that were falling from her eyes were from sadness, guilt, pain or pure relief. Her own heart was aching, but she didn’t know why.
She was more confused than ever before.
Chapter 24
Alf finished loading the weeds and twigs into the specially purchased garden-refuse sacks, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. He’d never been the gardening type, but given the amount of spare time he had on his hands and knowing that the overgrown mess was bound to be off-putting to potential buyers, he’d set himself the task of tackling it. It was just a shame he hadn’t factored in the unexpected heatwave the forecasters had failed to predict. The sweat was pouring off him.
‘Kate will be pleased, won’t she, mate,’ he said to Sam, who was eyeing him from his splayed position on the grass with a cocked head.
He stood back admiring his handiwork. Granted, it still wouldn’t win them the Chelsea flower show, but the garden once again looked recognisable and neat. ‘Time for a beer, I think.’
Heading into the house, he kicked off his dirty boots and opened the fridge, getting himself a cool can of lager. Pulling his mobile out of his pocket, he took a seat at the kitchen table and re-read the job vacancy email that had been forwarded by Megan. It was a great position, one that he knew he had the skills for; not a managerial role, but one where he would run his own scheme once again and be responsible for its growth. The company was an up-and-coming broker’s that was already gaining itself a name within the industry. Fired up, he decided to get working on his CV – he didn’t want a role like this passing him by without giving it a shot. He could already see the potential.
Taking a long swig of his beer, he reluctantly stood up and felt the ache of the morning’s efforts in his limbs as he moved. He switched on his laptop at the dining table and it immediately sprang to life, greeting him with his last-viewed internet search; photos of engagement rings. Closing the page, he smiled, pleased with himself that the search for the perfect ring was already as good as done. He’d seen it the previous afternoon in the local jeweller’s, of all places, antique, with a ruby and diamond centre. He’d known instantly that it was the ring for Kate – unique and one of a kind, without being flashy or vulgar. Managing to secure it with a small deposit, he’d hardly been able to believe his luck when he noticed the matching earring set. Without hesitation, he secured those too, deciding that he wanted to go to every length to ensure Kate had what she deserved.
‘Sam, get away from those.’ He reached out his leg towards the dog, who was sniffing precariously close to Kate’s stacked canvases, and pushed him with his foot. ‘No!’ Instinctively Sam scuttled away, but not before his tail had flicked against one of the smaller paintings, causing it to topple over. ‘For heaven’s sake…’
Alf stood up, walking over to where the dainty canvas lay and carefully picked it up, surprised to see the intricate detail and creativity that had clearly gone into its making. He couldn’t be sure if it was supposed to be a flower or abstract, but its beauty was captivating. ‘Not bad at all,’ he muttered to himself, replacing it against the others.
He sat back down at the table in front of his laptop, surreptitiously eyeing the forty or so canvases that were taking up most of the space along the back wall of the room. There was something about their presence that was slightly off-putting. He couldn’t be certain, but he wondered if it was because they represented a part of Kate that he no longer knew – a new Kate, one who had defined herself without his presence. The thought wasn’t a welcome one. In fact, he found himself feeling oddly envious – he’d never had a hobby that he loved and poured his heart into. Not to mention that she’d made a quite a few quid out of it so far with the offers she’d accepted from the care home. There was a pride within him that Kate was capable of such creations, but there was also a feeling of insecurity that came with it. It left him with an unsettled feeling – one that he didn’t know how to address.
Sam padded back into the room, catching Alf’s attention with a deliberate raise of one paw in the hope of a reward. ‘Enough of that, mate – I’ve got no treats for you.’ Shaking his head at the dog’s persistence, he turned back towards his laptop – his mind once again focused on the engagement ring he was planning to collect at the weekend and the best way to go about the proposal.
For a few days now, he’d been toying with the idea of asking her after the exhibition, when he knew she’d be on a high – one that he’d be able to top even further by popping the question. However, he’d decided against it; a part of him disliked the idea of their special moment being based upon something entirely linked to Kate. Besides, it wasn’t as if her artwork was always going to be a focus point in their life; it was natural they’d soon start planning for a family and Kate’s time would be taken up in other ways. He wanted to be sensitive to that.
No, the proposal needed to be special this time – a memory to look back on that was for both of them, for it marked a new era in their relationship. A completely new beginning – after all, since he’d returned from Scotland it was hard to remember a time when they had been so happy and enthused about one another. Life was giving them a second chance; he wasn’t going to let her slip away this time. This time he wanted to make everything perfect.
Opening his CV document, he put aside all thoughts of the engagement and concentrated on the task ahead. First and foremost, although he had a more relaxed attitude to his career, it was still important that he secured a role good enough to provide for their near future. After all, he
was the man of the house and it was his duty to bring home the bacon, not vice versa. On that thought, he couldn’t help warily eyeing the paintings across from him one last time, silently hoping that their potential success wouldn’t come back to haunt him.
Dialling Michael’s number for the ninth time in succession, Megan waited for him to answer. Her patience had long since waned, the irritation building inside her by the second. ‘Answer the fucking phone,’ she muttered, once again pressing his intercom buzzer before walking back onto the street and glancing up at his living-room window.
She knew he was home because the lights were on inside the apartment. She also knew he’d undoubtedly listened to her countless voice messages by now and got the message that she wanted to speak to him about the engagement. She’d hinted that she was calling it off but she had wanted to explain her reasons properly – to do the correct thing and tell him in person. He deserved that at the very least. Yet by avoiding her fully, he wasn’t even allowing her that option.
Pressing the buzzer one last time, she called his name through the intercom, begging him to give her a last chance to come and explain. She was greeted with no answer.
Left with no choice, she picked up her already damp umbrella from the porch entrance and opened it up, shielding herself from the fresh spattering of rain that was gently beginning to fall and began to walk away…
‘Are you sure you’re okay about this?’ Marcus asked cautiously. ‘Alf or Kate might pick up that we’re acting strange around one another?’
‘I’m sure, Marcus.’ Megan brushed her hair away from her mouth and smiled. ‘Besides, Kate knows we’re going in one car because of limited parking and it’s her special night – she’ll probably be too wrapped up to notice us anyway.’ He gave her hand a gentle squeeze and opened the passenger door of the car for her.
It was crazy that within the space of not even a week, things had taken a complete shift around her. The confusion that she’d felt was gone. She still hadn’t heard from Michael – it was undoubtedly his pride causing him to be silent towards her. However, the matter of her breaking off the engagement was resolved. She’d had no other option but to post the sparkling diamond that he had bought her into the slim mailbox of his apartment-block lobby, accompanied with a heartfelt letter. Deep down, she knew that she wouldn’t be receiving a response. In some ways, it made the entire situation a lot easier to deal with and experiencing his complete detachment gave her confirmation she’d made the correct decision. She couldn’t be with a man who disappeared at the first hurdle.