The Runaway Ex

by Shani Struthers

  Tara looked touched that she had thought to do this. “That would be lovely.”

  Wincing again, Tara turned from her. Layla watched her retreat; the girl looked smaller than ever, as though somehow she had shrunk since coming back to Cornwall. Eventually, Layla turned away as well. It would be time to meet up with the others soon, see how their day had been.

  Chapter Seventeen

  TARA COULDN’T BELIEVE IT. She had thrown up on Layla! All right, not on her exactly, but almost. She hadn’t been able to help herself. She had started feeling ill just after breakfast, had taken some painkillers, but to no avail. The smell of the lasagna had made her feel even queasier. That’s when the headache had got worse, alarmingly so, coming on like a freight train, relentless.

  Hurrying up to her bedroom, glad both her parents were dozing in the living room, she quickly drew the curtains, tore back the covers of her bed, and burrowed herself into it. She wanted to obliterate all light, everything around her, in fact.

  Nausea wasn’t done with her yet, however. Another wave came crashing over her, as forceful as any Cornish wave slamming against granite rocks, wearing them away over time as she herself was being worn away. Throwing off the covers, she ran for the bathroom, stubbing her toe against the bedpost as she hurled herself out of her room, the pain registering, but infinitesimal compared to the pain in her head. She dropped to the ground beside the toilet pan, hung over it, and retched and retched and retched, only clear fluid coming up this time. She had barely eaten anything today, had no appetite. That story she had spun about breakfast to Layla was a lie. Her mother had wanted to cook for her, but she had said no, nibbling on a slice of toast instead, ignoring her mother’s raised eyebrows.

  The retching brought tears to her eyes, tears that started to gush as hard as her stomach previously had. The only thing she had to console her was the knowledge that she had done the right thing in leaving Lyons Bay.

  God, but she missed Aiden. She hadn’t known it was possible to miss another human being so much. That grin of his, the light in his eyes, she would give anything to see them both again. To hear his voice, feel his lips against hers, a perfect match, full and sensual. But she would not see him again. She knew that.

  Gradually, she was able to push herself back up. Crawling across to the bath, she leaned against it, grateful for how cold its shell was. Again, sobs racked her. She couldn’t stand the pain, she couldn’t. The pain in her heart as well as her head. There was no way she’d be able to bear it. Why, oh why, had her world crashed and burned like this, especially when it had been so perfect? She had tried hard to live a good life, be respectful and kind to others as her parents had diligently taught her and her sister to be. She didn’t deserve this. She didn’t!

  She hadn’t realized her mother was standing at the door—looking absolutely aghast at the sight before her. Quickly the older woman rushed forward.

  “Tara, darling, what on earth is the matter?” She knelt beside Tara, her arms immediately reaching out to enfold her daughter, offering mother love in abundance.

  Now was the time. Now she should come clean, as soon as her mother released her, that is. Not that she wanted to be released. There was comfort in her arms—possibly the only real comfort Tara would find in this world again.

  Eventually Lily did pull away, her face full of concern and worry. “Tell me what’s wrong,” she urged.

  “I…It’s just, erm.”

  “Yes, darling?”

  Her mother’s eyes, how she loved them. They were the eyes she had first looked into, the eyes that had burned so brightly for her throughout the years. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t tell her. When, oh when, would she be brave enough?

  “It’s nothing. Nothing at all. I just don’t feel well, that’s all. A migraine.”

  “A migraine?” Lily’s brows furrowed in confusion. “But you’ve never suffered from migraines before.”

  “I know, but that’s what I think it is. A bad one too.”

  “Or the onset of flu, perhaps? You’re shaking terribly. Whatever it is, we need to get you back into bed, and that’s where you’ll stay until you’re better. Don’t worry about a thing. I’ll look after you.”

  “I know you will.”

  Lily had to hold on to the edge of the bath to stand up, breaking Tara’s heart all over again. Her mother had been so strong once—a force of nature. To her children she had seemed indomitable. Time was running out on all of them.

  “Mum, let me help you,” Tara began.

  “Nonsense.” Lily brushed her hand away, but gently. “I’m perfectly capable. Now, come on. Back to bed.” Looking at the toilet bowl, she added, “Have you been sick? Do you need a bucket?”

  “Yes, please.”

  “And some water. I’ll bring that too.”

  “Thanks, Mum.”

  Back in Tara’s bedroom, Lily tucked her into bed, just as she used to do every night when she was a child. Tara relished her doing it, wanting to be that small child again when the life that lay ahead of her had seemed so exciting, the world and everything in it magnificent. To be fair, it was still magnificent. That hadn’t changed.

  Before Lily turned to fetch the water and bucket, she reached down to stroke her daughter’s hair, again the way she had done when Tara was a child.

  “I love you, darling girl. You know that, don’t you?”

  “Yes, of course I do. I love you too.”

  “And your father, we love you very much.”

  “I…I know.”

  “That’s all I wanted to say,” Lily finished, turning at last.

  Watching her retreat, Tara had to bite down on her lip to stem the ever-ready flow of tears, stopping after a while because she was sure the metallic tang she could taste in her mouth was blood.

  Chapter Eighteen

  BUDE WAS GREAT—a town rather than a village, it was also home to another fabulous beach, Summerleaze. Such a romantic name, Penny thought. Upon arrival, she and Hannah went straight to it, discarding their shoes and relishing the feel of wet sand against bare skin, glad the weather was warm enough to allow such pleasures.

  After their walk, they had hit the shops, Penny actually doing very well on the clothes-front, stocking up on a pair of summer heels, two pair of linen trousers—one pair white, one pair black—and three tops, one tie-dye. What was it about Cornwall that made you want to buy tie-dye, she wondered. In Brighton, she’d never wear it.

  At lunchtime, Hannah suggested they eat in a small vegetarian restaurant, Martha’s Larder, apparently something of an iconic hangout for Bude’s young and hip crowd. Even though it was not the holiday season just yet, they had to wait for a table to be free, Hannah telling Penny to be patient, it would be worth it.

  Neither girl was vegetarian, but both liked the look of the menu, written not on cardboard but in swirly script on a chalkboard over the counter. Hannah chose the vegetarian chili with nachos, and Penny opted for the Greek mezze. At last a table became free, and they quickly bagged it while their food was being prepared.

  Sipping slowly at a glass of elderflower fizz, Penny cogitated as to whether she should tell Hannah what she had heard Joseph saying to Tara the previous night. If she had to keep it to herself any longer, she thought she might just burst.

  The walk home with Joseph and Layla at the end of the evening had been awkward, although thankfully no one else had seemed to notice. She didn’t want Hannah to feel awkward too once she imparted the news, but she couldn’t keep it quiet either. She didn’t know what Joseph and Tara had planned, but she was sure before long their rekindled passion would become blindingly obvious to everyone.

  “Er, Hannah,” she started, pushing her drink to one side. “I’ve got something to tell you. Something you’re not going to want to hear.”

  “Oh?” Hannah cocked her head to one side. She really was very pretty, Penny thought, her features delicate, her demeanor enviably serene. Penny felt like a train wreck beside her. Who was she kiddin
g? She was a train wreck beside her.

  “Penny?” Hannah prompted. “What’s bugging you?”

  Penny took a deep breath. “Well, last night at the pub—you know, Tara’s reunion—I popped outside briefly to phone Richard.” She wouldn’t bother mentioning the aborted attempt to smoke a ciggie. Hannah called them “devil sticks,” so she was clearly not a fan. “It was quite loud in the pub, so I walked down the road a bit, to Joseph’s workshop.”

  “The honey shop?”

  “Yes, the honey shop as it is now. It looks good in there, doesn’t it?”

  “It is good. Their fudge is delicious. It’s homemade.”

  Penny licked her lips. “I love fudge. So does Richard. I must get some to take home with me. Anyway, I was just passing the honey shop when I heard voices.”

  “Voices?” Hannah looked puzzled.

  “Yeah, voices. Joseph’s and Tara’s, to be precise.”

  At this, Hannah leaned forward. “Go on,” she urged.

  Penny was about to continue when their food arrived, the waitress placing their respective plates down in front of them. After saying thanks, Penny continued. The food could wait; this was more important. She quickly related what she’d heard.

  Hannah’s face was a picture. “And you’re sure that’s what he said?”

  “I’m positive. I can hear him now, saying exactly that.” Pausing only briefly, Penny added, “Believe me, I wish I couldn’t.”

  “‘You can do this, you know. We can do this.’” Hannah repeated the words, trying them out for size. “‘If you want me, I’m here for you, every step of the way.’” After a moment, she added, “Do what?”

  “Exactly,” said Penny, unable to resist popping a particularly plump green olive into her mouth.

  Hannah leaned back in her chair. “That’s just it. It could be anything.”

  Penny stopped chewing in disbelief. “But it’s obvious what it is; they’re planning to run away together. To leave poor Layla in the lurch.”

  “No.” Hannah was emphatic. “I don’t believe that.”

  “Not even though you’ve heard it from the horse’s mouth?”

  “I haven’t, though, have I? I’ve heard it from your mouth. And whilst I believe you’ve translated their words perfectly, it’s out of context. It could be innocent.”

  Penny pushed her plate away. “Hannah…”

  “No, wait. Hear me out. I know Joseph, what he’s like, and he’s not dishonest. All the time we were together, he gave me no reason to distrust him…or his feelings for me.” She lowered her head. “If anything, I’d say he’s too honest for his own good.”

  Penny’s frustration dissipated. Hannah was Joseph’s ex too. And, although she didn’t know much about their history together, she knew their breakup had been hard on Hannah. Apparently, Joseph hadn’t felt as strongly for her as she had for him. It looked like he’d never tried to convince her otherwise, either.

  “Aw, Hannah, all of this, it must be hard on you too.”

  “It’s not.” Hannah shook her head, a little too vigorously, perhaps? “Anyway, it’s not my feelings we’re talking about; it’s Layla’s. All I’m saying is, what he said, those words, you heard them in isolation. In context, they could mean something different.”

  Penny mulled this over, unable to resist polishing off the rest of the olives on her plate as she did so, as well as hummus mopped up with warm strips of pita bread.

  “So, what do you think we should do about it?” she asked on her last mouthful.

  “There’s a saying: ‘Fools rush in where angels fear to tread.’ If we do rush in without the full set of facts, blow it up out of all proportion, we could do damage—real and lasting damage. Layla’s feeling vulnerable at the moment, and little wonder, considering her history with Alex. If Joseph and Tara are up to something, we’ll know about it sooner rather than later. Like I said, Joseph is too honest for his own good.”

  So, watch and wait was Hannah’s advice. That was pretty much what she had decided to do last night. She was glad to have her instincts validated. But wait for how long? There was a time limit to be considered, but she, for one, wasn’t going home until the matter had been resolved. Talking of which, she’d better phone Richard. She’d been putting it off, in all honesty, not feeling in the least little bit like groveling to him. Well, she wouldn’t grovel. She’d just check on the baby—Scarlett—and then get back to what mattered right now—Layla.

  When they reached home later that afternoon, Layla was already in residence, her feet up in front of the TV and a cup of tea beside her.

  “Oh, hello, you two,” she said, immediately switching off the TV. “How was Bude?”

  “Yeah, good,” Hannah said, plonking herself down beside her.

  “Managed to buy quite a bit?” Layla continued, eyeing Penny’s shopping bags.

  “When do I not?” Penny said, smiling at her before dropping down too. Leaning forward, she asked, “So, how did it go? With Tara?”

  Layla looked pleased. “It went well. She’s nice, when you get to know her.”

  “So, she didn’t do a big reveal or anything?”

  Layla rolled her eyes. “No, Penny, she didn’t.”

  Penny leaned back into the sofa, disappointed.

  “There was one thing, though.” Layla frowned slightly as she said it.

  “Oh?” Penny sat upright again, her eyes briefly connecting with Hannah’s as she did so.

  “Yeah, she was sick. Violently sick, in fact, after we left the pub.”

  “Eww.” Penny wrinkled her nose.

  “Poor girl.” Hannah, in contrast, was full of concern. “Why was she sick? Do you know?”

  “Well, she’d hardly touched her food, so she obviously wasn’t feeling that great. She put it down to a headache. She said it had been building all morning.”

  “But she still met you?” Hannah looked impressed, or maybe it was puzzled.

  “She did, which was sweet. She could have just cried off, should probably have cried off. I would have understood. I tried to help her as much as I could, but she just needed to get home, lie in a darkened room.”

  “Some headache,” commented Penny.

  “She asked me not to tell her parents she’d been sick; they’d just worry.”

  “Makes sense,” Hannah said, nodding.

  “What’s strange, though, is she asked me not to tell Joseph either. I don’t know why. It’s not as if it’s anything to be ashamed of.”

  Again, Penny and Hannah exchanged glances. That was strange. It was clear from Hannah’s furrowed eyebrows she thought so too.

  Penny was about to quiz further when she heard movement. From the direction of the hallway, there was laughter and the rustle of bags—Jim and Joseph were home. Footsteps fast approaching, they burst into the living room, full of exuberance.

  “Right, we’ve got the menu planned. Joe’s cooking. I’m chopping. Who’s opening the wine?”

  Penny smiled. Jim was so full of fun. A fun rock god, it was a good combination, sexy. As he threw his leather jacket onto the sofa, the girls rose and followed him into the kitchen. Joseph was already in there, emptying carrier bags onto the counter. As soon as he saw Layla, his face lit up. If he was acting happy to see her, he was good at it. He grabbed her round the waist and pulled her close to him, kissing her on the cheek before announcing it was pasta he was cooking, with a chicken Florentine sauce, just in case Layla was feeling homesick.

  “That’ll be my second pasta dish of the day,” Layla remarked good-naturedly. “But, hey, I’m not complaining.”

  “I should think not,” he replied, kissing her again. “Good day?”

  “Yeah, it was. I’ll tell you about it later. Now, where’s that wine?”

  As the day had been warm, the evening was too. From Hannah’s living room, French windows led onto a paved area and the garden beyond. On the paved area was a wooden slatted table surrounded by chairs. Suggesting they eat al fresco, Hannah and Pen
ny laid the table as cooking aromas filled the air, making Penny’s mouth water. Despite eating at lunchtime, she was starving, the sea air stimulating her appetite. There was laughter aplenty as food was prepared and wine was poured, the atmosphere relaxed and happy. Penny soaked it all up—it had been a long time since she’d felt like socializing. While pregnant, she had just wanted to curl up on the sofa, unable to believe the exhaustion involved in the growing of a child. After the baby, it felt like she hadn’t even surfaced for air. For the first time and despite pissing Richard off royally—he’d been very distant on the phone earlier—she felt…what was it…normal? More like her old self again. Tonight, she was a person in her own right, not just a mother or a wife. She was Penny.

  Welcome back, she thought almost nostalgically. I’ve missed you.

  Joseph rushed past her with a big white bowl full of pasta. “Come on,” he shouted over his shoulder. “It’s ready.”

  Hmm, Penny thought again. If he is planning to run off with Tara, you’d never guess. Maybe Hannah was right. Maybe his words were innocent—when you put them in context, that is. She was glad she hadn’t rushed into anything after all. Perhaps she should stop and consider more often, she mused.

  The atmosphere around the table was lovely. Joseph and Jim kept everyone entertained with anecdotes of times they had spent together in the past—none including Tara, Penny was happy to note. Penny admired the relationship between the two boys. It was easy, relaxed. If she had to describe it further, she’d say guileless. She wished Richard was a bit more relaxed. Come to that, she wished she was too. When did they get so uptight? They certainly hadn’t started off that way.

  Suddenly she wanted Richard here, joining in the fun too. And the baby, fast asleep in a crib in the living room, slumbering peacefully. An ideal family—one that she’d imagined the three of them to be. One which, sadly, right now, they were not. Refusing to become morose, she concentrated on those around her instead. Dessert was more wine, after which they decamped to the kitchen for coffee—not the instant stuff, which she hated and evidently so did Jim, but proper coffee from a coffee machine, one Jim had bought with his first proper CD earnings. All of them except Hannah had their coffee black, Penny relishing the deep, earthy richness of the hot liquid inside the tiny white cup. Going in for seconds, she wasn’t worried the caffeine would keep her awake. Nothing would keep her awake, not when she had so many sleepless nights to catch up on.