Lucky? I had been when Nikki had been with me. I smiled politely. Whenever I mentioned being from Whitsborough Bay, the response was always the same: gushing childhood memories like Tania’s or complete oblivion as to where it was.
‘My grandparents used to do the same,’ said another of the nurses. Ellen? Helen? Helena? Something like that. ‘I remember there being this pool when I was little which filled with seawater. It was freezing in there.’
‘I think it had closed down when we started going,’ Tania said. ‘I remember the slide pool, though.’
And then they were off, reminiscing about holidays spent in my hometown whilst I sat on the periphery wondering what the hell I was doing there.
It was a Friday night and nearly two weeks had passed since the wedding that wasn’t. That had been one seriously tough weekend. I’d always be grateful to my brother for being there and helping support me through it. I’m not sure what I’d have done if I’d been on my own. I’d known it was going to be hard but the outpouring of grief had been unexpected and overwhelming. And probably long overdue.
On the Sunday night after Jack left, I’d laid down on the sofa holding onto a framed photo of Nikki and me that I’d taken with a selfie stick shortly after I proposed. Nikki was holding her hand up, flashing off her ring. The campervan was behind us and the sea behind that, capturing everything we loved in one shot. We adored that photo. We both looked so happy and in love which, of course, we were. After telling our immediate families, we’d used it to announce our engagement on social media, then had a copy printed and framed. We’d even discussed having a muted version of it as the background for the seating plan at our wedding.
Running my fingers lightly across her beautiful face, I realised one thing: Nikki would have been heartbroken to see me like this. She’d been such a vibrant person who’d embraced spontaneity and had lived every moment to the full. She’d have wanted me to continue to do the same and I was going to. It might take time and there’d be several setbacks, but I’d get there eventually. The starting point was to stop turning down invitations from work colleagues. I was lonely in London but that was my fault. My colleagues had tried to get to know me and I’d turned away from them all. Not anymore. Which was why I’d found myself surrounded by doctors, nurses, consultants and admin staff packed into The Dog and Duck around the corner from the hospital. One of the doctors was going on a one-year sabbatical to Africa. I didn’t even know which doctor it was so felt like a right fraud attending his leaving do.
I finished my pint and wondered whether I could slip out quietly. I doubted anyone would notice. The conversation about Whitsborough Bay continued around me but I wasn’t part of it. To my right, a few colleagues were having a conversation about the latest Marvel film. A long-time fan, I itched to join in the discussion. But what if they started talking about Thor? What if one of them decided, like Nikki, that I looked like Chris Hemsworth. Would I be able to hold it together?
I picked up my empty glass and headed towards the bar, trying to convince myself to stay for one more. The queue was three people deep and there were only two very fraught-looking staff members serving. I looked back towards the seat I’d just vacated. Someone was already in it. I recognised several colleagues but they were all engrossed in conversations with people I didn’t know. Nikki would have barged in and started chatting, but I wasn’t Nikki. I’d made a start. I’d accepted an invite out, and I’d had one drink. That would have to do for now. As I always told my patients, it was about making adjustments, one step at a time. I’d taken my first step.
Opening the heavy wooden door, I slipped outside, hoping nobody would notice and call me back. I was still looking back, when I reached the corner and smacked straight into someone, knocking them to the ground.
‘Shit! Sorry! Are you okay?’ I dropped to my knees beside the young woman.
She looked up and smiled. I clocked the streak of cerise pink in her long blonde hair and recognised her immediately as one of the nurses from the hospital. She reached out her hand and I gently helped her to her feet.
‘Nothing broken,’ she reassured me, brushing her uniform down. ‘Although I reckon I’ll have a huge bruise on my arse after that.’
‘I’m really sorry. I wasn’t looking where I was going.’
‘No shit! Where were you off to in such a hurry? Pub’s that way.’ She pointed in the direction of The Dog and Duck.
I shrugged. ‘I know. I’ve already been.’
She laughed. ‘That good, was it?’
I wasn’t sure how to respond. They could be her closest friends and, to be fair to them, it had only been crap because I’d let it be.
‘I’m Tiff, by the way,’ she said, holding out her hand. ‘I’ve seen you around but there’s never been the opportunity for a proper intro. Dr Jones, I presume?’
I shook her hand. ‘Yes, but please call me Sam.’
‘Sam? That’s a shame.’
‘What is?’
She gave me a cheeky wink. ‘I was kind of hoping it was Indiana. Oh God! You’ve probably heard that loads, haven’t you?’
I smiled. ‘Once or twice perhaps.’
Tiff visibly cringed. ‘Sorry.’
‘It’s fine. It doesn’t bother me. My brother’s a consultant neurologist too and so was our dad before he retired so we have three Dr Jones’s in our family. Makes me feel quite special having an action hero’s name. The connections don’t stop there, either. Sam Jones played Flash Gordon in the 80s classic and my fiancée thinks I look like Chris Hemsworth’s Thor so I’ve–’ I stopped dead. What was I saying? This was the longest non-medical conversation I’d had with anyone since moving to London and I’d just spoken about Nikki as though she was still alive.
‘Are you okay?’ Tiff asked.
I frowned and ran my hand over my stubble. ‘I’m fine. Sorry. I’ve got to go. It was nice meeting you, Tiff.’
‘And you. You’re sure I can’t tempt you back for another drink?’
‘I’d love to but I’m meeting someone and I’m already late.’
‘Your fiancée?’
‘No… She’s er…’ I couldn’t just blurt out that she was dead, especially after I’d just spoken as though she was very much with us.
‘Another time then,’ Tiff suggested before the silence became awkward. ‘My cousin, Drew, and I like to make it our mission to help newbies settle in, especially when they’re new to the big smoke. He’s a nurse too. He’s also a superhero geek and Flash Gordon is one of his favourite films so he’s going to be gutted he missed you. Drinks another time?’
I nodded. ‘Thanks. I might take you both up on that. See you.’
‘See you, Indi.’
We set off in opposite directions. I stopped and turned round. ‘Tiff,’ I called. ‘You want to know the real reason I left the pub early? It’s full of snakes and I hate snakes.’
Tiff laughed at the film reference and waved.
I smiled as I made my way towards the tube station. Human interaction. A proper conversation. And a joke. Another small step.
Chapter 12
Jemma
I lay on the sofa on my back with my laptop resting on my stomach, staring at a slideshow of photos of Scott and selfies of us together. Every so often I paused the slideshow and clicked onto his company’s website or LinkedIn, shaking my head at the photos of Adam.
It was nearly two weeks since his text announcing the birth of Adam’s twins and just over a week since I’d discovered that he was actually Adam and concluded that the twins were his. I couldn’t make sense of it. Who was the man I’d fallen in love with 18 months ago? The man I’d given my heart to? The man who I’d planned to spend the rest of my life with? Had any part of our time together been real or had I just been a bit of fun between work commitments? But if that was all I’d meant to him, why propose? Why take it to that next step?
Mum had stared at me, ashen-faced, when I’d told her my news after her appointment. She kept saying, ‘There must be some mistake.’ I recognised the denial as I’d been there myself.
The work photo proved nothing because it had no names against it, so I’d logged onto Adam’s LinkedIn profile and showed her that. Feeling irritated at her doubt when I needed her to be focused on helping me get through this, I Googled ‘Adam Hannigan’ to see what else I could find. I wished I hadn’t. It turned out my social media-hating ex-fiancé had a Facebook and an Instagram account under his real identity and wasn’t very careful with his privacy settings. I uncovered images of his house (pretty three-bed semi in a village outside Nottingham), his wife (Fiona, married for four years), his dog (a Pug called Bracken), and his new twins, as yet unnamed. I saw nights out with friends, holidays, and Christmases. When I clicked on a Facebook photo album entitled, “Our Wedding”, Mum leaned forward and closed my laptop. ‘Enough, Jemma,’ she said. ‘You don’t need to see those.’ She’d wrapped her arms around me and we’d cried together.
A key turning in the lock jolted me back to the present. Leah was away for the weekend on a hen do, and Tiff and Drew had been out to a leaving do for a work colleague which had obviously been a good night given the late hour.
‘How was it?’ I asked, peeking over the top of the sofa.
‘Jemma! You scared the life out of me.’ Tiff snapped the light on as she pushed the flat door closed. ‘What are you sitting in the dark for?’
I shrugged. ‘Thinking.’
She headed into the kitchen area and flicked the kettle on. ‘About your lovely mum or about that lying, deceiving, two-timing twat?’
I put my laptop down and sat up properly so I could see her. ‘Both.’
She spooned coffee into a mug and held up the jar and spoon as a question, but I shook my head. I was finding it hard enough sleeping as it was without giving myself a caffeine rush at 1.00am.
‘No Drew?’ I asked.
‘Lucky bugger pulled. He’s gone clubbing.’
‘It wasn’t Dr Jones, was it?’
She laughed. ‘He wishes, but the gorgeous Dr Jones has a fiancée.’
‘You’ve been doing some detective work?’
‘Nope. Didn’t have to. Got it straight from the horse’s mouth.’
‘He was there? You spoke to him?’
‘Only because he ran into me and knocked me flying.’
‘Seriously?’
‘Seriously. I have a bruise and everything. Anyway, we had a brief chat and first impressions are good.’
‘Shame about the fiancée thing,’ I said.
Tiff shrugged as she poured boiling water into her mug. ‘I’m not bothered. As I’ve said to you before, I wouldn’t date anyone from work. It’s not worth the hassle. Besides, Dr Jones may be hot but he’s far too immaculate for me. Give me facial hair, tattoos and piercings any day.’
She tossed the teaspoon towards the sink. It bounced off the rim and skidded along the worktop. Shaking her head at it, she left it where it was and joined me in the lounge area.
‘So, your mum and the twat. Tell me more. I take it he hasn’t been in touch.’
‘No, although unless he’s checking his work emails while he’s on paternity leave, he won’t know he’s been rumbled.’
‘I still can’t believe he lied to you like that.’
‘Neither can I. I keep going back over conversations we’ve had, wondering if there were clues that he was living a double life but I can’t think of anything. I’m so confused, Tiff. He seemed so genuine. I’m sure he loved me. There must be an explanation. When we were at the races and I saw him holding a pint, I got a bit upset thinking he might be drinking and driving. Turned out it was Drew’s drink. Karen said that things aren’t always what they seem. Maybe this isn’t what it seems. Maybe he–’
‘Jemma! Stop it!’
I flinched at Tiff’s sharp tone.
‘Sorry,’ she said, ‘but you seriously need to stop it. I know you loved him so this is going to sound really harsh but it has to be said. Scott or Adam or whatever his name is lied to you for 18 months. He lied about his identity, he lied about where he lived, he lied about his wife, and he lied about her pregnancy. He seemed like the genuine article, but he wasn’t. Stop trying to give him the benefit of the doubt. He lied to you about who he was, Jem, and he was good at it because he had us all fooled. If he’s that good an actor, it’s highly possible that he lied to you about his feelings too.’
‘Then why ask me to marry him?’
‘Why not? In all likelihood, a proposal was a continuation of the fake world that he’d created. He’d bought himself time by saying it would need to be a long engagement due to his work situation. Face it, Jemma, he was never going to leave his wife and twins for you. I’ve seen the photos. I’ve seen how happy they are together.’
I opened my laptop and clicked onto the slideshow, thrusting it into her eye line. ‘Are you saying we’re not happy in these photos?’
Tiff sighed as she watched the photos scrolling. ‘I don’t know, Jemma. The whole thing is pretty messed up if you ask me. Either he’s acting with both of you, acting with one of you, or he actually loves you both. Whichever it is, he’s not worth another minute of your time, though. Keep remembering that when you met him, he was married. He introduced himself to you under a fake name and he slept with you that night. It could have ended there and you’d never have known he wasn’t really Scott Hastings, but he kept the lie going. All those texts and FaceTime conversations at very specific times weren’t from hotel rooms. They were probably from his bedroom in the home he shared with his wife while she was watching telly in the lounge. He was having sex with you and he was having sex with her. He has to have been. Twins don’t appear out of nowhere. I know you want answers, but you’re not going to get them, Jem. Walk away knowing that you did nothing wrong but he set out to deceive both you and his wife from the outset. That’s not a person you want or need in your life.’
I closed my laptop and placed it on the coffee table with slightly shaky hands.
‘I’m sorry,’ Tiff said, patting my leg. ‘I’m worried about you.’
‘I know.’
‘I don’t mean to lecture you.’
‘I know.’
‘Tell me about your mum, instead. How’s she doing?’
Tiff had upset me and I wanted to walk out the room, but I knew it was only because she cared. And she was right, even if I didn’t want to admit it. What a mess!
‘Good days and bad days,’ I said. ‘I didn’t warm to her consultant and Mum can’t stand him either. About the only helpful thing he did was giving her a lecture for not doing any exercise. He said that being too busy at work to find time for it would be an excuse she regretted when the symptoms worsened. I lectured her too, then Karen and Rachel came round and had a go. She’s now doing yoga and Pilates with Karen several times a week. It’s early days but Karen reckons it’s already making a difference. The next step is convincing her to cut back on her time at Bear With Me but that will be like convincing her it would be a good idea to chop off her right arm. That place is her life. I know it’ll be hard for her to walk away from it but, for the sake of her health, she needs to.’
Tiff stared at me for a moment, then smiled. ‘It’s hard when someone you care about needs to walk away but won’t, isn’t it?’ She stood up. ‘I’m off to bed. Night.’
‘Night.’
I watched Tiff go through the door to the bedrooms and nodded. She was right. I should walk away from Scott and put it behind me as a serious case of misdirected trust.
But I wasn’t sure if I could.
Chapter 13
Jemma
‘Are you expecting an important call?’ Owen paused by the display of early twentieth century teddy bears I was stock-taking, cleaning, and rear
ranging.
I stepped down from the kick-stool, my heart racing. Had Scott called the museum? ‘Why? Has someone phoned?’
‘No. But I’ve walked through here several times this morning and you’ve been checking your phone every time.’
‘Oh my God! Have I? I didn’t realise. I’m so sorry, Owen. I’ll stay late.’
He shook his head. ‘You’re not in trouble and I don’t expect you to stay late. I’m just a concerned boss and friend. Is your mum okay?’
I blushed. ‘Yes and no. It’s not Mum, though. It’s…’ I shook my head and lowered my eyes. ‘It’s Scott.’
‘That waste of space? What are you in touch with him for?’ I’d told Owen my sorry tale after returning from my weekend in Whitsborough Bay. I’d removed my engagement ring and he was the sort who’d have noticed.
‘I’m not in touch with him,’ I said. ‘He’s ghosted me, remember? The things is, he’ll be back from paternity leave today. He’ll have picked up my email to him at work and know that I’ve discovered his true identity. I’m not expecting a call, but I’m half-expecting a text or an email from him.’
Owen’s expression softened. ‘From what you’ve told me, I don’t think you’ll hear from him again. I’m sorry, Jemma.’
I nodded. ‘I know. You’re right. That’s way I’m only half-expecting it.’
‘If he did text or email, what are you hoping he’ll say?’
Good question. ‘I suppose the daydream is that it’s all been a big mistake and he really is Scott Hastings, but that’s not going to happen is it? Maybe an explanation? Or an apology? Or both?’
A small group of visitors entered the room. ‘Don’t get your hopes up,’ Owen whispered, heading off in the opposite direction.
‘Easier said than done,’ I muttered under my breath.
I moved the kick-stool aside so the visitors could see the display a bit better and hovered nearby, answering a few questions about the various bears.
‘You’re so lucky working here,’ said an elderly lady with a Cornish accent. ‘Although I’d never get any work done if it were me. I’d be stroking the bears all day, I would.’
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