He’d fallen prey to his own fantasy. Nothing about what had happened was normal. Nothing about his world was ordinary. Ozzy’s life hung in the balance, Logan was half the man he used to be, and Griff had made love to his estranged wife.
It was madness.
With no time to check his phone for messages, he pushed the pedal to the floor and skidded off the gravel. The vet was a good fifteen minutes away, but with the traffic in Griff’s favour, there was a chance he could make it before she locked the doors for the night.
And there was also a chance he’d already lost Ozzy.
He would never forgive himself if Ozzy died alone.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Evie
For the fifth time since getting out of bed, Evie checked her mobile. It was as devoid of messages as it had been on the four previous occasions. No word from Griff. Nothing since he’d fled from the house last night.
With Dylan taking a nap, and Tess spending a second day on the trot at Logan’s, Evie was left kicking her heels. It had been a good two years since she’d spent an evening and the following morning at home. She was used to being busy and not having space in her day for thinking. Space was unsettling.
She’d showered, she’d fed and changed Dylan, and she’d shared a brief exchange with Tess before she’d shot off on her bike; she’d even given the bathroom the once-over, but now there was nothing left to tackle. She was such a whirlwind of activity, she found it difficult to unwind. And she was aware too much quiet in the house would force her to reflect on the events of the night before.
Taking one last peek at her slumbering son, she headed downstairs to the kitchen and considered her options. ‘A coffee,’ she said. ‘And morning TV.’ It wasn’t the best use of her unexpected time off, but watching programmes about other people’s problems would keep her from analysing her own. She nodded, filled the kettle and flipped the switch.
Dylan had the right approach. Wake, eat, play and sleep.
As she waited for the water to boil, her eyes and mind wandered to her Happiness jar.
Yesterday, euphoric from the hopes and dreams her and Griff’s lovemaking provided, she’d added a ticket. Not straight away – it hadn’t occurred to her until after Dylan had woken and she’d taken him downstairs – but while Griff was still in the house, sleeping. Aware the papers were available for the family to read, she’d kept her comment vague, knowing that come the annual reveal on New Year’s Eve, her words would stir a multitude of erotic memories and sensations in her.
Right now, it was her gut stirring. Instinct was writing and sending its own message and questioning whether or not it was an appropriate use of the jar. And whether or not sleeping with Griff at this current time was something to celebrate.
Fully intending to talk to him about Logan as she’d opened the door, Griff’s distressed appearance had thrown Evie. Her first response had been to pull him to her and keep him safe. It was instinctive. His vulnerability had struck at Evie’s core and her self-imposed rules about the right to hold the man she’d given up were forgotten.
Her next response, having established Tess and Logan were safe, had been to say nothing of Logan’s death wish. For a split second she’d thought he’d carried out his threat. It was a shocking moment. The possibility Griff could have been the one to find him slumped and lifeless in his green chair had made Evie want to retch. When Griff announced it was Ozzy who was hurt, and despite a desperate attempt to cover it up, Evie was aware her relief had been palpable. Logan’s predicament was foremost in her mind.
She was thankful Griff hadn’t picked up on it – if he’d pushed her she’d have been forced into telling him about his father right then and he was already upset and distressed about Ozzy. Thank goodness the speed with which they found themselves in bed diverted them both from that course.
Selecting the decaf from the cupboard, Evie prepared her drink, stuffed the biscuit barrel under her arm, and headed off for the living room.
Within fifteen minutes she was bored of the ear-splitting woman who’d denied cheating on her boyfriend, and she had zero interest in the results of the promised DNA test of their baby, although she couldn’t help worrying what impact the show would have on the child in later years. ‘Poor soul,’ she muttered, pressing the off button on the remote.
She could imagine how mortified Tess would be – she was a private person, who only shared her thoughts when the situation demanded, or if she was backed into a corner.
It had shocked Evie on two counts when Tess revealed the details of the harrowing scenes she’d witnessed. First, that Tess had seen more than Evie realised, and second, that she was pushing to talk it through.
The car incident was the second most frightening experience in Evie’s life, and like Tess, she thought death was imminent. Neil had said he’d kill Evie if she didn’t comply with his wishes, and he never made threats he wouldn’t follow through.
Her throat constricted.
Tess was right. Neil had left them with far more than painful memories, and the man had been dead four years. Why wouldn’t he leave them alone? Revenge? ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ Evie washed the notion away with a gulp of coffee. ‘He engineered his own exit.’
His death was sudden and gory and distressing, and the first most frightening experience in Evie’s life.
Her statement to the police noted that she’d found Neil lying on a blood-soaked bed, not breathing, with a deep gash running from the wrist to the elbow of his left forearm. An empty rum bottle was on the floor.
A pair of scissors was later discovered in the folds of the sheets. Forensics identified one set of fingerprints. Neil’s. With his history of drinking, his lack of continuous employment, and Evie’s neighbour supporting her claim Neil was unstable and often displayed erratic behaviour, it appeared he’d committed suicide, but with no note present, the coroner returned a verdict of accidental death.
Evie and Tess never spoke about that, either.
While done with the best of intentions, the pact of silence Evie had devised left Neil’s echoes and shadows free to roam the dark corridors of both her head and Tess’s.
Perhaps Tess had hit upon something. They couldn’t flush him out, and blocking him out hadn’t worked, so maybe talking him out was the way forward, more so if it helped Tess, and Evie had promised she’d give it a shot.
She hadn’t, however, promised she’d discuss their past with Griff. It was a deliberate omission on Evie’s part, and one she knew Tess would forgive. She would tell Griff if and when the time was right, and she was confident her daughter would follow her lead.
Breaking the news about Logan was as much as Evie could handle right now, and she was sure it was plenty for Griff to deal with.
Telling him was the right thing to do, though. He needed time to speak with Logan and come to terms with the decision. His mother’s had been thrust upon him, and it was unfair to do that to him a second time.
Evie hoped Griff would understand why she’d been unable to talk about Logan’s request, and forgive her part in the deceit. She hoped he’d try to understand his father’s reasons, and even though he was bound to object, respect them. She prayed her honesty, albeit late, would herald the start of a good phase in their lives.
Together they would move forward, help Logan, and get their marriage back on track.
She closed her eyes as her insides pirouetted. The memory of her and Griff making love last night existed both in her mind and her flesh. It was easy to recall every touch, every kiss, every lost breath.
But as the sensations arced from nerve to nerve, the vision of Griff leaving without a second glance continued to play. As wonderful as it was being with him, and as encouraging as it was for him to have come to her, it was possible he was seeking comfort only from sex, not reconciliation.
Depositing her mug on the coffee table, Evie swapped the remote for her phone. ‘He wouldn’t,’ she said as she swiped the screen.
It was bla
nk.
‘Nothing and no one.’ She switched to her photos app. The first image was of Dylan, showing off a pair of new shoes; the next, a rare picture of Tess; and the third, a snapshot of Griff with his faithful companion by his side, standing at Portland Bill, looking out at Pulpit Rock. ‘He’ll be busy with Ozzy,’ Evie said, pushing all the contrary evidence to the back of her mind.
Yesterday’s events suggested she and Griff had reconciled, but his manner as he’d left the cottage, and the lack of communication since, implied not.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Tess
It’s the start of the Easter holidays. Two whole weeks of freedom. No school bus, no sport, and no confrontations in the changing rooms.
I can’t wait to leave school. I’m taking my GCSEs next year, but I’ve already decided to study for A-levels at college. I’ve heard you get to call the tutors by their first name. And they don’t care how you dress, what colour your hair is, or how many piercings you have. Self-expression is encouraged.
Mum thinks it’s the right decision.
I’ve come to Logan’s again, to give Mum a break. She rarely has time in the morning to wake up slowly. If I’d thought about it, I could have stayed here last night.
Perhaps I should. I could pack a few clothes, bring my homework. I could be a live-in carer for a few days.
I glance across the room at Logan, who’s already installed in his chair. ‘Fancy a lodger for a couple of nights?’
He glares at me. ‘So I can be spied upon?’
His hostility surprises me, then I realise he thinks I’m talking about a nurse or professional carer. ‘I mean me. I’m on holiday. I could stay over. We could order takeaway, watch some films … You could help me study.’ I pause. I haven’t sold the idea to him yet, but I know what would pull him in. ‘You could teach me some gardening stuff. The weather’s changed again today. Spring has definitely sprung.’
A flicker of interest transfers from his eyes to his mouth. ‘Gardening?’
The old bugger’s laughing.
‘I know what a lawn mower is,’ I say. ‘And Mum’s had me pruning at home.’ I’m not mentioning that I used to think pruning was to do with sitting in the bath too long. Or that I once thought secateurs were part of the Queen’s jewels.
‘It’s a kind offer, Tess, but I don’t think my garden or I are up to the challenge.’
I shrug. ‘It was just an idea. Let me know if you change your mind.’
‘I won’t,’ he says, staring at me. ‘You should be out enjoying yourself with your friends.’
‘That’s what I said yesterday.’ Imogen’s come in from the hallway. ‘Bathroom’s sorted,’ she says.
Imogen was here when I arrived. It wasn’t a repeat of yesterday’s charade, but I was surprised to see her. She, on the other hand, seemed pleased it was me, even though she disappeared upstairs as soon as I took off my coat.
Logan said she phoned last night, after I’d left, asking if she could pop round first thing this morning. Obviously he said yes, which is interesting, because he was expecting Mum. I haven’t worked out what’s going on yet. ‘So are you helping Logan now?’
Imogen’s weaving her way past me and Logan.
‘I left in such a hurry yesterday, I felt I owed Logan an explanation.’ She’s gone straight through to the kitchen.
The intrigue I had for this woman has turned into curiosity. ‘She could have explained when she phoned,’ I say to Logan.
‘She did, we had a long chat, and then she offered to come over.’
‘But she was here before me, and you were up and dressed.’
‘I was. Imy helped.’
Imogen’s tinkering about with the kettle. The tap’s gushing at full pelt. ‘I’ll make us all a hot drink and then I’ll take a look at the shrubs out the back,’ she says, her voice carrying into the living room.
I raise my eyebrow in a theatrical, melodramatic detective kind of way. ‘So that’s your game. I’ve been replaced with …’ I pause for effect. ‘With someone who can garden.’
Logan knows I’m mucking about.
‘You’re still chief sandwich maker,’ he says. ‘I like the crusts cut off.’
Joking aside, I’m wondering how Mum would feel about this. With Imogen helping him, Logan could have called and saved us a visit. Not that I mind. I’m happy to see him. And Imogen. It would have been a bit of a shock for Mum though, finding another woman here. We’ve not had a chance to talk yet. ‘I guess you wanted Mum to meet Imogen.’
‘I’d like to meet your Mum.’ Imogen re-enters the room. She puts Logan’s mug on the small table next to his chair. ‘Let me know when you’re ready to drink it and I’ll pass it to you.’ There’s a lightness to her voice. Her back is to me, but I imagine she’s smiling. She’s wearing her hair down today. It reaches her hips. She turns and offers me the second mug. ‘Hot chocolate?’
I accept and thank her. ‘Why do you want to meet my mum?’
‘We have a proposition,’ Logan says. ‘One your mum needs to be comfortable with.’
‘And Griff,’ Imogen adds as she wafts past me on her way to the sofa. ‘But I think he’ll be more than happy.’
My attention is flitting from Logan to Imogen and back again. Both are looking at me, nodding. They’re including me in their conspiracy. ‘Go on.’
Imogen settles into her seat and crosses her legs. She’s wearing skinny blue jeans with a pink, fluffy jumper. Probably cashmere. She’s a person with expensive tastes. I can tell.
‘It was so lovely seeing Logan yesterday. It brought back a lot of fond memories and gave me a proper sense of time and place. Being here restored a piece of my history I thought lost.’ She’s circling her finger around the rim of her mug. ‘I feel reconnected.’
This is all wonderful, I’m sure, but I haven’t got a clue what she’s on about. I don’t even know what questions to ask. ‘Reconnected?’ I offer. It’s pathetic.
‘To my father. To my brother.’
‘And to Griff?’ My curiosity is morphing at a rapid rate into suspicion.
Imogen has fixed her eyes on me. They are too blue to be real. I decide she must be wearing contact lenses. I’d like red ones. That would totally freak out the bitch at school.
I’ve distracted myself. I need to concentrate on Imogen and Logan’s proposition. ‘Sorry,’ I say. ‘Carry on.’
‘I’m going to be honest with you, Tess. I do feel reconnected to Griff. He was an important part of my life, as was Logan, as was Kieran.’
‘Kieran?’
‘My brother. Griff’s best friend.’
I nod, remembering the fleeting reference Imogen made to him yesterday.
‘Griff’s told you what happened?’
‘I don’t think Tess knows,’ Logan says. ‘Griff doesn’t talk about his past.’
Nor does Mum. I imagine that’s why she and Griff get on. Got on. Hmm. Sparkling gems of wisdom to keep to myself.
‘Your mum will know,’ I hear Imogen saying. ‘He must have told her.’
Irritation is making my arms itch. ‘Can’t you just tell me?’ It has to be easier than all the cloak and dagger stuff.
Imogen’s waving a hand through the air. I believe my plea has been dismissed.
‘The point is I want to help Logan,’ she says. ‘We had a long chat on the phone last night and then again here this morning, and I think … we think me joining the team would suit us all, you and your mum included.’
Logan asks for Imogen to pass him his cup, and while she does, I take a sip of my hot chocolate. ‘You mean you’ve both agreed you’d become one of Logan’s carers?’
‘That’s right.’ Imogen is sitting on the arm of the sofa, next to Logan. ‘Now, I know it sounds as if I’m the one doing the favour, but believe me it’s completely selfish on my part. It’s all about me, honestly.’ She watches Logan as he finishes his drink, relieves him of his cup and takes it out to the kitchen.
‘You’re okay w
ith this?’ I direct my question at Logan.
‘I am.’
Well, that was succinct. And odd. From what Mum’s said in the past and from what Logan’s told me himself, he hates the thought of anyone other than Mum or me looking after him. I have to be missing something. ‘Why Imogen?’ I ask.
Logan calls me to him and I sit on the raised foot of his extended chair. I notice how much room there is for me, another sign his mass is disappearing.
‘I realise I’ve been unreasonable expecting your mum to cope,’ he says. ‘She has Dylan and you to care for, and you have important school years coming up. You need to be concentrating on your studies, not wasting your time on me.’
That explains the why now? but not the why Imogen? ‘Mum said we’d get help from an agency. She brought you the brochures.’
He winces as he shuffles in his seat and I find myself thinking how awful it must be to live with chronic, physical pain. It’s rough living with mental pain.
Logan’s chilled hand lands on mine.
‘I’ve known Imy since she was a child. I’m comfortable in her company, I don’t need to explain myself to her and it’s lovely having someone else to talk to. Another’s perspective.’
‘Gee. Thanks.’
‘Come on. You know I can go a whole week without seeing anyone but your mother. Now, before you get all hotheaded and defensive, I appreciate that’s not her fault. She’s a good woman and she does her best to keep me socialised, but it’s difficult for me to leave the house, and I don’t always feel like going out. Imy and I get on, we have a lot of memories we can share, and she’s prepared to come here.’
‘That’s right.’ Imogen’s back in the room and she’s taken residence in the armchair. ‘And I’m a holistic practitioner – I don’t think I told you, Tess. I’m going to help bring balance to Logan’s life.’
That’s made Logan laugh. ‘Good luck,’ he says, releasing my hand.
I retreat to the sofa and stuff a cushion behind my back. ‘So what does that mean? You’re going to revitalise him with a few mixed herbs?’
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