What Doesn't Kill You

by Laura E. James

  The bangles jingled and jangled as Evie shook her hand. ‘I’m Evie Hendry, Tess’s mum, and this is Dylan. Tess has spoken of you. Pleased to meet you. How do you like Portland?’

  Stephanie glanced at Tess. ‘Very much, Madame Hendry, thank you. It was a lovely surprise to see Tess.’

  ‘Isn’t it amazing?’ Tess’s eyes were wide with pleasure. ‘Madame Dubois plans to change this place into a bistro.’ She turned to Stephanie. ‘That’s right, isn’t it?’

  ‘She wants to run it as a café during the day, but can see the potential for evening business, yes.’ Stephanie put her arms behind her back. ‘I’m helping during the weekends and holidays, but after summer, I’ll be at college.’

  ‘Studying for A-levels?’ Evie lifted Dylan on to a chair, ripped off the thin, card lid from his ice cream, and handed him a bright pink plastic spoon. ‘Did you bring napkins, Tess?’

  She received no response; Tess’s attention was devoted to Stephanie. ‘Tess.’ Evie gave her daughter a playful prod. ‘Napkins. For your brother.’

  ‘Oh. Yeah. Sorry.’ Tess yanked a bunch of paper serviettes from the back pocket of her jeans and put them on the table. ‘Will you be taking A-levels?’

  ‘No, I’m going to enrol in a catering course. I’m planning ahead. I’d like to own a restaurant in my name. What about you? What ambitions do you have?’

  Tess linked her fingers behind her back, taking an almost identical stance to Stephanie. ‘I have my GCSEs to pass first. I’m taking them next year.’

  ‘We have an equivalent in France.’ Stephanie was addressing Evie now. ‘But we sit them when we’re fifteen. I did mine last year.’

  ‘You’re sixteen?’

  Evie detected a hint of surprise in her daughter’s voice.

  It appeared to catch Stephanie’s ear, too, making her simultaneously frown and grin as she looked at Tess. ‘Is that okay?’

  ‘I … When we met in January, you seemed … I thought … Well, I thought you were older, maybe eighteen.’

  Tess’s sudden awkwardness showed itself not only in her speech but in her cheeks. They produced a vibrant shade of crimson. It was the most colour Evie had seen in them for weeks.

  Conscious her presence could embarrass Tess further, Evie made a point of chatting with Dylan, drawing his attention to the sound of the waves as they washed onto the pebbles.

  ‘I’ll be sixteen in October,’ she heard Tess say. ‘I’m one of the older ones in my year.’

  ‘You should have a party to celebrate.’ Stephanie’s suggestion.

  Evie wiped Dylan’s mouth clean of melted ice cream. From the corner of her eye, she saw Stephanie put a hand on Tess’s forearm, a touch from which Tess would normally recoil.

  ‘A party?’ Tess looked from Stephanie to Evie and back to Stephanie. ‘I hadn’t given it any thought. I’m not sure many people would come. I could ask Rick, I suppose.’

  ‘And me.’ Stephanie withdrew her hand. ‘I’d come.’

  ‘You would?’

  ‘Mais oui. Of course. We could ask my mother if you could have it here. Would you like that? I’ll be back by then.’

  ‘Back? From where? I thought you were here to stay.’

  Evie continued to observe the interaction, noting Tess’s disappointment.

  Stephanie waved towards the café. ‘I’ve come to help my mother during the holidays. My father’s job brings him here in August, so for now he is still in France. Since I am not able to start my catering course until September, I have to go back to Dijon to finish my year at college. I will be back here in July.’

  Tess’s downturned expression told Evie everything she needed to know. Her teenage daughter, so wise and mature in many ways, was experiencing her first flush of romance and was preparing to invest her trust, and her heart, in Stephanie. As far as Evie could see, the attraction was mutual. She was no expert in body language, but there was mirroring, eye contact, and the occasional touch between them. And they were standing very close to each other.

  ‘We could Skype, maybe? While I’m in France.’ Stephanie dipped her head, her dark eyes now level with Tess’s moonstone greys. ‘By the time I come back, we’ll know everything about one another.’ She hesitated, uncertainty making a vocal appearance. ‘If you would like that.’

  Still keeping a discreet watch on the girls, Evie saw Tess hold her eyes shut for a fraction longer than a blink, take a deep, calming breath, and smile.

  ‘I have to go now,’ Stephanie said. ‘But it’s my lunch break soon. Perhaps you would like to join me. All of you.’ She turned to Evie. ‘I’m sure my mother would be very happy to make your acquaintance, Madame Hendry. She speaks excellent English.’

  ‘That’s a kind offer, Stephanie, but I promised I’d take Dylan to see the lighthouse.’ Evie congratulated herself on her quick thinking. She had no desire to play gooseberry. ‘I’m hoping it’s open to the public today.’

  ‘Does Tess have to go?’

  ‘Tess is old enough to make her own choices.’ Wasn’t that the truth? ‘I’ll be gone about an hour, but I will have to get back for my father-in-law after that. I’m his carer.’ She stopped talking as Tess edged nearer to her.

  ‘I don’t want to spoil our morning,’ Tess whispered. ‘It’s meant to be about you and me.’

  Resisting the urge to hug her, Evie gazed at her beautiful, sensitive, responsible daughter. ‘This has been more about you and me than you could possibly imagine,’ she said, her heart providing the words.

  ‘So, you’re okay with it?’

  Whether Tess meant abandoning her plans with Evie, or her obvious interest in another girl, Evie was fine. More than fine. Happiness, kindness, respect and friendship were what mattered in a relationship. Any relationship. Every relationship. Love was love was love. The right and wrongs lay in the abuse and misuse of that love, not in the question of gender.

  ‘Yes. I’m okay with it. In every conceivable way.’ Evie popped Dylan into the pushchair, locked the belt buckles in place, and kissed Tess on her cheek. ‘July’s not that far off. She’ll be back before you know it.’

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Griff

  Griff stared a little way down the road at the corrugated asbestos-lined roof of the garages. As much as he despised them, he missed seeing them every day. They were a marker he was home.

  At the moment they were taunting him, reminding him he was scrunched up in his car, on the drive of his cottage, waiting for Evie to appear. He could have used his key and made himself comfortable inside, but he didn’t want to frighten Evie by emerging from the living room; he had enough explaining to do without adding another crime to his list.

  He rotated his watch so he could read the time. Two o’clock. No wonder his stomach was growling. It was surviving on one cup of coffee.

  Ten more minutes, Griff thought, and then he’d have to go. He was on the second of his two nights on shift that evening and as strong as his reserves were, he doubted he could last twelve hours of work without sleep or food first. Exhaustion had already prevented him from showing up at the cottage the day before.

  Stifling a yawn, he opened his window and reintroduced his lungs to the fresh, country air, and his ears to the peace of the hillside. Bleating lambs beat the drone of town traffic hands down.

  Curious to learn if he could tune into Evie’s car, he closed his eyes and listened.

  ‘Hey.’

  Jolted from his dream, Griff opened his eyes wide and turned in the direction of the voice. He sat upright and cleared his throat. ‘Hey, Evie.’ He ruffled a hand through his hair. ‘I must’ve dropped off.’

  ‘Have you been waiting long?’

  ‘No,’ he lied. ‘I can fall asleep at the drop of a hat, you know that.’ He tested the situation with a smile. Evie’s features softened. ‘I think we need to talk about the other day,’ he said. ‘And about my father.’

  Evie stepped away from the Land Rover. ‘Dylan’s inside.’

  ‘How is
he?’

  ‘Excited to see you.’

  ‘And Tess?’

  ‘She’s with Logan. I’m going to collect her this evening.’ Evie paused, the exact reason not revealed to Griff, then she skirted the front of the car and disappeared into the cottage.

  ‘It could have gone worse,’ Griff muttered to himself, relieved to escape the confines of the front seat. ‘How long have you been home?’ he said as he entered the hall.

  ‘Fifteen minutes. I thought I’d get Dylan settled before I woke you.’ Evie’s voice travelled the length of the corridor. ‘You looked like you needed the sleep.’

  That was true enough.

  ‘We’re in the kitchen.’

  Taking that as his cue to proceed, Griff closed the front door and headed to the rear of the property. He was greeted with a huge, milky smile and outstretched arms from a booster-seated Dylan.

  ‘Hey, my boy. How are you?’ Griff released the safety belt and hoisted Dylan onto his hip, holding one of his tiny hands in his. ‘I’ve missed you.’ He planted a kiss on Dylan’s head. ‘I hope you’ve been good for your mum and sister.’ His reward was a giggle and a nuzzle to his chest. ‘Have you had your lunch?’ Reminded of his own hunger, Griff’s stomach rumbled, which prompted Dylan to swing his legs and throw his head back, laughing. ‘Did you feel that?’ Griff blew a noisy raspberry onto the exposed underside of Dylan’s chin, generating more giggles and wriggles from the two-year-old. ‘You’d power Dorset with your energy.’

  ‘We’ve eaten,’ Evie said, leaning against the edge of the sink. ‘But I can make you something. Cheese on toast or a sandwich.’ She pushed away from the counter and reached for the bread bin. ‘I think we have pastrami in the fridge.’

  ‘That would be great, thank you.’

  ‘We only have white bread,’ Evie said, holding up a slice as evidence.

  ‘Honestly, anything.’ In Griff’s eyes, Evie’s peace offering was symbolic of her willingness to talk. He’d eat worms with mustard if he had to, and he hated mustard. ‘Is it okay to give Dylan a yogurt?’

  Evie’s brow puckered. ‘Of course it is. You know where they are.’

  He threaded Dylan’s legs either side of the chair strap and secured it to Dylan’s waist. ‘Strawberry?’

  As Evie buttered the bread, Griff collected the yogurt and meat from the fridge. He handed Evie the pastrami. ‘Thanks for doing this. The sandwich and seeing me.’ He bowed his head. ‘I wasn’t sure where I stood after the other day.’

  ‘Daddy. Ta?’

  Dylan’s large, expectant eyes and high-pitched voice brought a touch of much-needed humour and normality to the moment. Griff prepared the dessert, appropriated a spoon from the cutlery drawer and carried both items across to the table. ‘There you go.’ He leaned over and brushed his finger on Dylan’s cheek. ‘You’re a good boy.’

  A warm, delicate hand filled the hollow in Griff’s back.

  ‘Your lunch is on the table,’ Evie said, her mouth close to his ear.

  Shivers infiltrated his weakened defence, corrupting his flesh and mind, but as soon as Evie had spoken, she moved away. The sensation of her touch lingered far longer.

  ‘Thank you,’ Griff said, aware his gratitude was vague and open to interpretation. It was up to Evie to determine the root.

  ‘How are you holding up?’ she asked.

  Griff straightened his posture, circled round and watched as she filled the kettle. ‘It’s tough.’ He cast his eyes to the corner of the kitchen, to the space that was Ozzy’s safe spot. ‘I still have all of his things out at the flat. How about you?’

  ‘It’s early days.’ Evie opened the wall cupboard ahead of her and took down a jar of coffee. She held it up for inspection. ‘Decaf, I’m afraid.’

  ‘I’ll take it.’ Griff traipsed across to the sink, washed and dried his hands, and relocated to the table. ‘The vet asked me what I’d like to do with Ozzy. I thought it best to have him cremated. Was that okay? I should be able to collect his ashes tomorrow.’ Griff picked up a triangle of sandwich, put it to his mouth, and faltered. Thinking of and talking about Ozzy had vanquished his appetite. He returned the food to the plate. ‘I’m sorry.’

  Evie was there in an instant, replacing the plate with a mug of strong, white coffee. ‘I’ll wrap them up and you can take them to work. Perhaps you’ll fancy them later.’ She set about her business.

  Griff acknowledged her kindness with a fragile smile. If he allowed himself to think it, he could believe none of the last four months had happened. The scene of domesticity they were enacting was one he’d been part of many times.

  The clatter of Dylan’s spoon landing on the tiled floor broke his fantasy. He reached round, secured the spoon between his thumb and finger, and looked at his son. ‘Do you still need this?’

  Dylan turned his palms up. ‘All gone.’ A strawberry grin broke through the yogurt plastered across his chin and mouth.

  ‘Good job, young man. I predict a career in construction.’ Griff left his seat, tore off a strip of kitchen roll from a holder near the kettle, and wiped Dylan clean. ‘You’ve filled in all the cracks.’

  ‘Unlike us,’ Evie said, storing the packed sandwiches in the fridge.

  ‘Yeah.’ Griff screwed up the dirty paper, disposed of it, then rinsed out the dishcloth. He cleared the table, wiped its surface, and when he was satisfied he’d flooded all the remains of the yogurt away, gave the table one more swipe with the cloth.

  If all that was separating him and Evie were cracks, they could be filled. His fear was they’d deteriorated into something worse.

  Lifting Dylan clear of his chair, he hugged him, set him on the floor and pointed him in the direction of the living room. ‘Go and find your favourite book, bring it here, and I’ll read it to you.’ He sent him on his way.

  Retaking his chair, Griff invited Evie to sit down. He leaned his elbows on the table and clasped his hands together, aware the next five minutes and his choice of words could make or destroy the remnants of their marriage.

  ‘I’m sorry I left in a hurry the other day. I was in a state about Ozzy, and I was anxious I’d already missed him. It wasn’t a reflection on you, or my feelings for you, or connected in any way to what we did.’ He unlinked his fingers and wrapped them around the coffee mug. ‘To have you back in my life just for those short hours gave me the strength to get through the long ones that followed, but that wasn’t the reason I came. I came because I’d promised Dylan I’d see him, and because you needed to know about Ozzy.’ He sipped at his drink, while keeping his eyes on Evie.

  ‘I thought you’d used me.’

  Griff set aside the mug, leaving his arm outstretched, his fingers mere inches away from Evie’s.

  ‘It wasn’t until I was thinking clearly I realised you might see it that way. I’m sorry. I would never do that to you.’

  That Evie could think him capable of such a violation hurt – it choked and twisted his stomach – but he’d provided no evidence to the contrary.

  ‘I should have called you. Explained. But my head—’ He closed his mouth. There were no excuses. What he’d done … No, the way he’d gone about it, the way he’d left it was wrong, no matter what the reason.

  Evie scraped back her chair and perched on the end, as if she was about to rise. ‘Tell me about Imogen.’

  ‘Imogen?’ Griff tried to make the connection between Evie’s forgiveness and his relationship with Imogen. ‘She’s an old friend.’

  ‘So I keep hearing. How do you know her?’

  ‘She was my best mate’s sister. She used to hang around us. She’d mastered the art of winding up teenage boys.’ Griff reclined, retreating to a safe distance, thankful the chair had his back, as that was the only support he was getting.

  ‘Imogen is Kieran’s sister?’

  Wow. That shocked Griff. He’d only spoken of Kieran once to Evie. ‘You remembered his name?’

  ‘Of course. He was important to you, and what happened to
him shaped you, but I don’t understand Imogen’s involvement or why she’s suddenly back in your life.’

  There was nothing sudden about Imogen’s appearance. She’d been with Griff for years, trapped in his conscience. He thrust his fingers around the back of his neck, his shoulder protesting at the stretch. It was nothing. There was worse pain to endure.

  Leaning into the table, Evie said, ‘Are you sleeping with her?’

  As if the seat had burnt him, Griff leapt up. ‘No! I wouldn’t.’ He paced the floor, coming to a halt at the rear door. Evie’s reflection bounced off the glass. She was standing. ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘To check on Dylan. I need to make sure he’s settled.’ Evie marched out of the kitchen and out of sight.

  This wasn’t what Griff had come here for. He’d come to apologise for his hasty exit and to determine a way forward for him and Evie. This was the second time his attempt to put things right had gone awry. The old saying the road to hell is paved with good intentions was proving far too accurate for his liking.

  ‘Shit.’ He trudged across to the sink, splashed icy water on his face, and waited for Evie.

  ‘Dylan’s fallen asleep,’ she said as she resumed her place in the kitchen. ‘I’ve covered him with the throw.’

  ‘Why don’t I take him up?’ said Griff. ‘Pop him in bed. It will give us the chance to talk properly.’

  With no objection from Evie, Griff carried out his task, taking a quiet moment to appreciate both his gorgeous boy and the break from the tension in the kitchen. He tucked Dylan under the duvet, kissed his forehead and trotted downstairs, bracing himself for the proper and honest talk he’d just suggested.

  As he swung round the stair post into the hall, he heard movement in the living room. Pushing open the door, he saw Evie bent over the open window box seat, packing away Dylan’s books and toys.

  ‘He didn’t bat an eyelid,’ Griff said, retrieving the fleecy throw from the floor. He passed it to Evie.