“It’s not over. Joseph loves you. Good grief, it’s embarrassing the way he looks at you sometimes. I’m like ‘Get a room, will you?’ He’ll come round.”
“I don’t know, Penny.” She was surprised to find some part of her actually felt resigned to this fact. “Sometimes there’s no going back.”
“I don’t believe that. Joseph’s feelings for you, they’re a bit bruised at the moment, but underneath, they’re as strong as ever. I know it.”
“I hope you’re right.” Layla sighed deeply. “But right now, like I said, Tara is my priority. It’s her forgiveness I want.”
Leaving a bewildered Penny to stare after her, Layla collected the letter she had written earlier from her bedroom and the car keys and made her way to Port Levine.
Parking the car, Layla turned off the ignition, opened the car door, and ventured toward the purple front door. Her letter to Tara clutched in her right hand, she opened the letterbox with her left and pushed it through. Staring at the door for a few seconds, she then retraced her steps. Back in the driver’s seat, she turned the engine over—at least, she tried to turn it over. Despite behaving perfectly en route, it was playing up now. Unable to believe it, she tried again. Nothing.
“What the hell…” she muttered under her breath. “This can’t be happening.”
But then she’d say that about a lot in her life right now. The sad fact was, it was happening. She was stranded—right outside Tara’s house.
Letting her head fall against the steering wheel, she stayed that way for a short while before deciding to try again.
“I believe with an automatic, you need to put it into park first before you can turn the engine over.”
Layla turned quickly to her left. Leaning against the half-open window of the passenger door was Tara, a soft smile on her face.
“I…” Layla looked down. The car was still in drive. No wonder it wouldn’t start. There was nothing wrong with it after all. Only with her.
“Thanks,” she whispered, feeling her cheeks burn.
“I got your letter,” Tara continued, holding it aloft in her hand.
“That was quick.” Layla tried to smile.
“I happened to be in the hallway when you posted it through.”
“Have you read it?” she asked tentatively.
Tara nodded. “I’ve read it.”
Struggling to breathe evenly, Layla lifted her eyes to meet Tara’s. “I mean it, every word. I’m sorry.”
“You look like hell,” Tara replied.
Taken aback, Layla checked her face in the rearview mirror. Tara was right; she did.
She started to explain, but maybe because of sleep deprivation, her brain wouldn’t play ball. No words came out, none that made sense anyway.
While she struggled, Tara swapped curbside for roadside.
“Scoot over,” she said. “I’ll drive.”
Meekly, Layla did as she was told.
With Tara ensconced in the driver’s seat, Layla managed to ask her if she’d be okay driving the Defender.
“Are you kidding?” Tara said cheerfully enough. “You should see what I drove in the Outback. This tank is a mini-tank, believe me.”
As Tara started to pull away, Layla asked, “Where are we going?”
“Anywhere you like.” Tara adjusted the seat and the mirror. “Where do you fancy?”
“I don’t know. I…erm.” Still she couldn’t think.
“Okay.” Tara made it easy for her. “North or south?”
North would take them back to Trecastle.
“South,” Layla answered.
“South it is. I’ll just keep driving until you want me to stop.”
It took twenty minutes of rumbling down country roads before Layla felt composed enough to speak. “Anywhere here,” she said. “Wherever’s convenient.”
“We’re near Rock. There’s a beautiful beach at Rock. It goes on for miles, right past St. Enodoc Church. That’ll be a nice walk.”
After Tara parked the car, Layla followed her toward the beach. A ferry had docked at one end of the bay, a handful of people climbing on board to travel the short distance to Padstow, famous for its seafood restaurant. She had been to Padstow once with Joseph, not to the restaurant, just to get an ice cream and walk around it. There were quite a few shops too, mostly selling holiday stuff. That was in the days when they had been friends, not even lovers, when she had first moved from Brighton. Happy, carefree days. Golden days, they seemed now.
“This way,” said Tara, turning right, toward a golden stretch of sand. There were sand dunes and families with pre-school children making the most of the day.
“It’s lovely here, isn’t it?” Tara was watching the children too, a wistful look on her face. “My parents used to bring me and my sister, Leo, down here when we were kids. See that sand dune over there? Just to the left of those rocks. That was our favorite spot. My dad used to settle himself down on his fold-up chair; my mum would spread out the picnic blanket. Me and Leo, we’d start building sandcastles. After a while, I’d get bored and go swimming, but Leo hated getting wet. She’d just carry on, building sculptures all day, and quite happy she was, too.”
It sounded idyllic. For a moment, Layla envied Tara, and then she clamped down hard on that thought. She had no right to envy anyone.
“Tara,” she said, not knowing what to say but wanting to say something. “I…” But it was no use. Her brain still wasn’t making sense; nothing made sense anymore.
As despair washed over her, Tara steered her toward the sand dune.
“Come on over here. Tell me all about it.”
As Layla collapsed on the sand, words began pouring forth. At first they were garbled, but gradually they started stringing themselves together in the correct order to form semi-coherent sentences. She was able, at times haltingly, at other times in a rush, to tell Tara what had happened the previous day—meeting Aiden, the suspicions that prompted the text message, and Joseph’s reaction.
Tara listened without interrupting. Sweetly, she held Layla’s hand, something Layla was grateful for. If she truly hated her, she wouldn’t be able to do that, surely?
When she finished, Tara did let go. Layla stiffened. She hated her after all, and who could blame her? But, instead of rising and walking angrily away, she inched up closer and placed an arm round Layla’s shoulders.
“That Joseph,” she said. “He’s a hot-head at times. I remember that well.”
“Really?” Layla’s voice sounded so small, even to her.
“Yeah.” Tara smiled. “He has what I call an overdeveloped sense of justice. When he feels something or someone hasn’t followed absolutely the right path, he can get a bit hot under the collar. I used to tease him about it something rotten.”
“But he’s right. What I did was awful—you know, under the circumstances.” She felt awkward even alluding to Tara’s illness. “I acted out of spite, and that was wrong.”
“But you didn’t know the circumstances when you acted,” Tara insisted, moving away slightly. “And besides, it could be argued, strongly, that what I did was wrong. My secret affected you as well as Joseph. I should have told you too. It’s just…”
For the first time, Tara sounded uncertain. “My head was all over the place, to be honest. I know I told Joseph, but when he found me, I was desperate. I’d been wandering Italy aimlessly for weeks, in shock—I know that now—trying to come to terms with my diagnosis. When I met him, I was at breaking point, and he, well, he built me back up. But my parents, I wanted them to know next. I became fixated with it. They’d know what to do and say. They’d help. And I was right in that sense; they’ve been great. But I was wrong about you. You’re Joseph’s girlfriend. I should have told you. I know you would have kept my secret. I was the one unable to trust.”
“Telling your parents next—I ruined that plan, didn’t I, by sending Aiden over?”
“You didn’t ruin anything.” Tara looked as though she
genuinely meant it. “Aiden was the next to know, and I wouldn’t change that for the world. He’s been incredible, Layla.” Happiness lit up her face, erasing the signs of tiredness that had been there earlier. “He came with me back to my parents, and we told them together. His positivity—something I’ve always loved about him—well, I think my parents appreciated it too.” She paused for a moment before adding, “In all honesty, I don’t think I would have told them without him, despite what I had promised Joseph. I would have just kept putting it off until, well, until I couldn’t put it off any longer, until it became too obvious.”
“Tara, I’m sorry.” Could she ever say it enough? “I’m so, so sorry.”
Tara shook her head. “Please don’t be. I consider myself lucky, you know, luckier than most. And who knows? I might even get lucky again. The treatment I need to have, there’s a slim chance it might buy me more time, at least. Aiden’s insisting it will, and I’ve made up my mind to believe him. The power of the mind, it’s a wonderful thing. Now, enough about me. You and Joseph, you’re going to go and talk to him, right? Make him see sense?”
“Actually, I’m not,” Layla stated.
“You’re not?” Tara looked confused. “Well, I’ll speak to him, then.”
“No! I don’t want anyone to speak to him, not you, not Penny, not Hannah or Jim. I’m going to give him what he asked for, space. And to be honest, I need space too.”
“But what if—” Tara began, then abruptly stopped.
“If he decides he doesn’t want me? So be it. It’s called consequences of actions.”
Tara looked stunned. “Layla, you’re being too hard on yourself.”
“I need to be hard on myself, to understand.”
“Understand what?”
“Why I did him a disservice, as well as myself, and why I was so quick to. It didn’t take a week, it didn’t even take hours; it took seconds to distrust him, the very first second he mentioned your name in fact.” Before Tara could challenge her further, she continued, “You know when I met Aiden in the café, when we got talking?”
“Aha,” Tara said, nodding.
“I asked him if he thought you’d left him because of another man. Do you know what he said?”
“What?” Tara looked genuinely intrigued.
“He said no, you weren’t like that. He didn’t even hesitate. I remember thinking how naïve he was, that nobody truly knows anyone. I was wrong. He knew you.”
There was silence for a few moments as Tara seemed to ponder this. “Layla,” she said finally, “have you ever been hurt?”
“Yes,” Layla confessed. But hadn’t everyone? She didn’t want to go into detail, about Alex reeling her in and then spitting her out, about the father she had lost when young, her mother too, grief not uniting them but tearing them apart until so very recently. It would all just be excuses. But Tara, it seemed, didn’t need detail.
“That’s why,” she replied.
Silence hung between them until Tara started speaking again.
“What about Florence? Your apartment there?”
“It’s rented. If worse comes to worst, we’ll give notice.”
“You’ve both got jobs, though,” Tara pointed out.
“I can’t speak for Joseph, but I’ll give notice on that too.”
“To go where? Might you stay here?”
“I don’t know yet. My mother lives in Milan. I might go there.”
As Penny had been emphatic, so was Tara. “You’re wrong, you know. This isn’t the end for you and Joseph.”
“It feels like it,” replied Layla, remembering how Joseph had looked at her.
Tara leaned forward suddenly, excitement replacing concern. “Well, it’s not. Besides which, you’re going nowhere, not for the next few days. I need you.”
Need her? What was she talking about? Layla would have thought she couldn’t wait to see the back of her, despite how nice she was being.
“Yes, I need you, and I need Hannah too—she could have a word in Jim’s ear—persuade him we need 96 Tears too. That would be awesome, having them play a set for us. Oh, and Penny. I like her style; she could be my advisor or something.”
Penny—a style advisor? Layla almost choked. Now she really was confused.
Before she could ask why, Tara spoke again, a beaming smile on her face. “I’m getting married!”
“Married? To Aiden, you mean?” Immediately Layla berated herself. Of course it was to Aiden. Who else would it be?
“Yep, to Aiden,” Tara confirmed. “Oh, but don’t worry. It’s not going to be a church wedding with me dressed up as a meringue or anything. We’re going to get married on the beach—World’s End. Mum’s friend is a Humanist; he’s doing the honors.” Laughing, she continued. “I think Mum would prefer a big church do, to be honest, but, well, Aiden and I have different beliefs to her and Dad. Besides which, time is of the essence as they say, and it’s not the legalities that count. It’s the sentiment behind it.”
“Oh, Tara, that’s great. I’m so happy for you.” And she was being honest; a part of her did feel happy. Tara’s excitement was infectious.
“So, you’ll help me? You’ll stay?” Tara checked.
“Of course.”
“And Penny too?”
“I’m sure she will.”
“Fantastic.” Hugging her knees to her chest again, Tara looked misty-eyed all of a sudden. “I want it to be the best wedding ever.”
“It will be,” Layla replied.
She, for one, would do her utmost to ensure it.
Chapter Twenty-Six
AIDEN WAS WAITING FOR TARA when Layla dropped her home. Hurrying anxiously down the garden path toward her, he called, “Babe, where have you been? I was worried about you.”
Tara giggled as he reached her, lifted her off the ground, and swung her around.
“Don’t worry,” she assured him. “The only place I’ll ever run again is into your arms.”
“I should bloody hope so,” he said, burying his face into the space between her shoulder and her neck—the “sweet spot,” as he liked to call it.
Reluctantly pulling away, she asked, “So, come on, spill. What clothes did you bring over with you from Oz? Anything smart?”
“Smart? Tara, I’m an Australian beach bum. I don’t do smart.” In mock dismay, he started singing Simply Red’s “If You Don’t Know Me by Now.”
“I know you only too well,” she replied, elbowing him playfully in the stomach. Taking his hand, she led him back toward the cottage. “We’ll need to fit in a shopping trip, then, to Exeter, perhaps. It’s not far, just over an hour’s drive away. You are not coming to our wedding dressed in shorts and a T-shirt, believe me.”
“Oh, Tara.” He looked and sounded just like a little kid—a cute kid, though, she had to admit. “We’re getting married on the beach. Why not?”
In the open doorway of her parents’ house, she threw her arms around his neck. “Because I’ve seen how sexy you look in a suit, Aiden Taylor. That’s why not.”
“A suit? Me? When?”
“When you were best man at Landry’s wedding, remember? It wasn’t just me that was swooning at the sight of you. All the girls were.”
“I know.” Aiden pulled his sexy face. “Poor Landry. I didn’t want to steal his thunder, but—”
“So, you’ll do it? You’ll wear a suit for me?”
“For you?” He rubbed his chin. “Hmm, I’m not sure. I’ll have to think about it.”
“Aiden!” She hit him playfully again.
“Ouch, stop that. I’ll be black and blue by the time our wedding comes around at this rate.” More seriously, he asked, “Actually, I wonder what day next week it is that I’ll be making an honest woman of you?”
“Friday,” her mother called from the living room.
“Oh, Friday,” Aiden called back, winking at Tara as he did so. In a mock British accent, he added, “Thank you, Mrs. Mills. That’s splendid news.”
From the dark interior, Tara heard her mother chuckle.
“I can’t believe it,” Tara whispered.
“Believe what?” Aiden asked.
“I arrived here at the beginning of this week. If someone told me that, by the end of the second, I’d be getting married, there’s no way I’d have believed them, no way.”
Aiden bent down to kiss her lightly on the lips. “Well, you are getting married, Mrs. Soon-to-be-Taylor, and I’ll make a deal with you. If you promise me mind-blowing, super-scintillating, extra scrumptious sex on our marital eve, I’ll wear a suit.”
“Extra scrumptious?” Tara’s face colored at the thought.
“That bit has to be pinky promised,” he answered, completely straight-faced.
Trying unsuccessfully to stifle her laughter, she shushed him in case her mother happened to be listening still. “I promise,” she whispered, kissing him back as hard as was decent. Reluctantly breaking away, she ushered him into the kitchen.
“The thing is, Aiden,” she continued, “we’ve got some putting right to do.”
He leaned up against the kitchen counter to hear how so. If this was her house and they were alone in it, she’d swear she’d be the one up against that kitchen counter right now, with Aiden kneeling right in front of her. Banishing such naughty thoughts, she explained to him what had happened between Layla and Joseph.
“Bummer,” he said after she had finished explaining.
“And that’s why I’m getting them to help me. Not just Layla, but her friends too. I want them all in on the act. I want them to float along with us on bubbles of happiness—Joseph and Layla especially. I want what we have to rub off on them.” She paused for a moment before adding, “They belong together, like we do.”
“I’m glad you said that.” Aiden closed the gap between them. “That he belongs with her and you belong with me. For a moment, down at the beach, I thought—”
The Runaway Ex Page 22