I put my bag down, took out my phone and called my husband.
CHAPTER 27
I was pathetically unprepared for the triad of familiarity, love and pain which swirled over me when I saw James. I recognised him as soon as I entered the marble hotel lobby, and would have known him as easily at fifty paces or even five hundred. Every mannerism, from the way he was standing with one hand in his pocket, to the lift of his head when he saw me, to the way his red shirt wasn’t fully tucked in, was exactly the same. I didn’t even know I knew these things, apparently absorbed into my subconscious memory through years of routine living.
The second emotion was pure delight, as my heart recognised the man I had thought was my soulmate. We exchanged the look you sometimes see between lovers at parties, when they’re in the same room but not standing together: just a fleeting second of eye contact where both acknowledges a connection stronger than steel. The tug at my lips was purely involuntary.
When I saw the matching smile on his face, my heart leaped, then crashed as the pain hit and I remembered why we were here, in a smart London hotel with shiny floors and assertively yellow walls.
‘Hi.’ James had crossed the lobby, made as if to hug me, but stopped short and squeezed both my arms lightly instead. He looked down at me, smiling awkwardly, surveying me cautiously.
‘Hi.’ I held my overnight bag as a barrier in front of me, gripping it with both hands. By now, my lips were firmly clenched so that they betrayed neither smile nor wobble.
‘I’m really glad you came,’ he said, putting both hands in his pockets and coughing. ‘How are you?’
‘Fine.’ I nodded more than was necessary, glad of that morning’s hairdresser visit, as my hair settled obediently. At least I was looking great. ‘You?’
‘Fine. Yep.’
Neither of us spoke for a moment and when I risked looking at him directly, I saw his eyes had softened. I looked away in a hurry. He had definitely lost weight. Ever since university, he’d been slender, but once we’d moved to California, swimming and cycling had beefed him up a bit. Now, though, his face seemed pinched and there were blueish shadows under his eyes.
‘So … how was the conference?’ I asked.
‘Oh. Good. Yes, fine.’
Great. Everything was officially ‘fine’.
‘Shall I take that?’ He gestured at my bag.
‘Oh.’ This was awkward: I had shown up with luggage. I spoke quickly. ‘I’m not staying. I was in London last night. I’m on my way home.’
‘Okay,’ he said. ‘But we can put it in the storage room for a bit.’ Seeing me hesitate, he continued, ‘We could go for a walk, if you’d like.’
A walk. Yes. That was a good plan. Fresh air would be nice. I still suspected I was getting a cold and my head felt muzzy.
We left my bag and walked north from his hotel. Within minutes, we crossed the main road and entered Hyde Park. The air was damp and far from fresh, due to all the bonfires of recent days. Leaves were falling, joining others lying soggy on the path. Still, I was glad to stretch my legs. I guessed we had about an hour of decent daylight left.
James asked after my family; I asked after his mum. He asked where I was living, and I was deliberately vague in saying I had found somewhere nice and had made friends. He asked whether I was working, and I admitted I was helping out at an estate agency and enjoying it.
‘That’s great,’ he said. ‘I bet you’re really good at that.’
We reached the Serpentine and turned right, to walk around the lake.
‘And, um, how’s work for you?’ I wasn’t being polite, I desperately wanted to know. I looked at him out of the corner of my eye to get clues from his face as he answered.
‘It’s okay,’ he said. ‘Not much new.’
I gave a tiny snort.
‘What?’ he asked.
‘You have to give me more information than that,’ I said pointedly, stopping for a moment.
‘Like what?’ He stopped too and seemed genuinely puzzled.
‘Well.’ I dug my hands in my coat pockets and looked at the geese on the water. ‘Well, like, how’s Rebecca?’
‘Rebecca? She moved to Seattle,’ he said. ‘Months ago.’
I stiffened and my mouth formed a silent ‘Oh.’
‘Didn’t I tell you?’ He shook his head and looked surprised.
For heaven’s sake, I thought, I would have remembered that. I had been torturing myself for five months and forming painful pictures of their cosy daily life.
James brought a hand up to the back of his neck and kneaded the muscles there. Then he spoke carefully. ‘Grace, I don’t think you believed me, but I was being honest with you when I said the – thing – with Rebecca, it just happened one time.’
I looked up at him. My nose was starting to run but if I reached for a tissue now, he might think I was crying. I shook my head silently.
‘One lousy mistake, in Vegas,’ he said. ‘On my mother’s life, I swear to you.’
Did I believe him? I couldn’t think what he would gain from lying to me, but I still remembered the way Rebecca had looked at him. Her devoted expression didn’t seem to fit with one quick shag in Las Vegas.
‘But you saw her bedroom,’ I muttered, thinking of the treacherous purple accent wall.
‘I gave her a lift home one day, when her car was getting fixed. She wanted to show me your work.’ James shook his head emphatically. ‘That was it – that was all, I promise.’
Sod it. I found a tissue and wiped my nose.
‘Grace, say something.’
‘I think I’m getting a cold.’
He sighed. ‘Let’s walk.’ The murky light was fading and other people in the park were starting to thin out. It wasn’t yet four o’clock and it occurred to me that California winters had turned me soft. We picked up our pace a little and continued in silence for a few minutes.
‘Look.’ James was staring fixedly at the path in front of us. ‘I know I hurt you terribly. I’m so sorry. I’d give anything to undo that. But …’ He stopped again and turned to me. His face was absolutely intent, the little frown lines clear on his forehead. ‘This is awful. I love you and I want you back. Just tell me what I have to do and I’ll do it.’
I swallowed hard, staring back at him. Rebecca was gone; he was asking to try again. These were the eyes I had gazed into on my wedding day, the day we’d promised better or worse, come what may, as long as we lived. I felt a magnet pulling me to him. James was my North. All I had to say was Yes, and I could walk straight into his arms.
Neither of us moved. James looked at me, trusting and waiting, scanning my face for an answer.
‘I’m seeing someone,’ I said, and my voice seemed to come from another person entirely.
He stared, blinked, turned half away. Then he turned back to me and reached for my arm. ‘But, Gruff –’
‘Don’t,’ I said, overwhelmed by how much was wrapped up in that nickname. I started to cry.
He shook his head and gave a brief ironic smile, before biting his lip. ‘Is it serious?’
I wiped my eyes and hugged myself from cold and confusion. ‘I don’t know.’
James gazed out across the lake, where the wind had started to make gentle ripples. He let out a long breath and then looked at me. ‘We should walk back.’
I nodded, shivering slightly. We turned to retrace our path around the eastern end of the Serpentine. For five minutes, we walked in silence, then the mist in the air turned to insistent London drizzle. I ducked my head and pulled my coat collar up around my ears. So much for my hairdo.
Without a word, James stepped closer to me and put his arm around my shoulders, giving me a hint of warmth and shelter. At the same time, he adjusted his long stride so that our progress was more comfortable. A stab of longing went through me as I felt his familiar body pressed against mine. After a few seconds, I remembered to breathe, and matched my pace to his. We walked on.
~~~
J
ames let me go as we climbed the steps of his hotel. The warmth of the bright lobby was welcome, but I was embarrassed by my red nose and ratty hair.
‘Are you hungry? Want something to eat?’ he asked.
These innocent words were a conciliatory overture in disguise. As a three-meals-a-day guy, James couldn’t understand my reliance on snacks. He got by on water from the reusable aluminium bottle he carried everywhere.
Remembering that my lunch had been a four-inch wedge of cheese, I said, ‘That would be great.’ Surprisingly, I wasn’t all that hungry, but I was thirsty, wet and cold.
‘The hotel does afternoon tea. It’s famous, I think.’
He went to the front desk and came back with a menu. It boasted savoury skewers, taster spoons and cakes which had allegedly been inspired by Gucci and Valentino.
‘My treat,’ James prompted, nodding at me encouragingly.
Jem and I would definitely have to come back here, but today I was in no mood for fussy. I was also aware that inflicting herbal infusions and a cherry bavarois on James was somewhat mean.
‘It looks a bit fancy.’ I wrinkled my nose apologetically. ‘Can we just go to a cafe?’
Our marriage might be as flat as a day-old soufflé, but I had read him well. He looked relieved as we retrieved my bag and trudged back out into the rain.
~~~
Mungo welcomed me home that night but I wasn’t up to playing or patting. Not pausing to draw the downstairs curtains, I headed straight for bed, dumping my now dry but wrinkled clothes on the bedroom floor. I felt sick, headachy and miserable. The heating was on but I was shivering. I found my warmest pyjamas and added socks and a thin jumper.
My phone contained four apologetic texts from Scott, plus two voice messages, which I hadn’t listened to. Before I climbed under the covers, I shook his brown-tinged roses into the bathroom bin and rinsed out the vase. I wasn’t making a grand gesture, it was time for them to go in any case. And I needed somewhere to put the freesias from James.
Apart from a couple of solitary souls with laptops, the coffee shop near the Tube station had been almost deserted. On a wet Monday afternoon in November, Londoners had found somewhere better to be. We claimed two armchairs in the corner and waited for the bored-looking barista to concoct our drinks. In another show of solidarity, James had ordered a hot chocolate, an indulgence he usually reserved for ski trips to Tahoe.
Neither of us had said much since leaving the park. I was a bit surprised he hadn’t simply packed me onto the nearest Tube train, but was feeling too miserable to analyse this. As soon as our order had been brought to us, I wriggled my damp feet out of my boots and tucked them up under me, glancing around furtively as I did so.
‘Maybe we should have got you a brandy, instead of tea,’ James said, stretching out his legs and blowing on his drink.
‘I’m okay,’ I said, my attention temporarily on a plump teacake, which was dripping butter onto my plate.
By the time I had polished that off and drunk some tea, I felt brighter. ‘Just a cold coming, I think,’ I said. ‘I hope I haven’t given it to you.’
Funny, I hadn’t given much thought to infecting Scott, but I didn’t want to make James sick.
‘If you have, I’ll just pass it on to the other three hundred people on my flight.’
‘When do you leave?’
‘Tomorrow,’ he said. ‘So it’s lucky you phoned today.’ He gave a half smile.
After another pause, I said, ‘Thank you for the parcel you sent.’
‘No problem,’ he replied. ‘Do you have everything you need?’
I nodded.
‘Are you … staying in England for good?’ he asked.
I lifted the lid on the teapot to add more hot water, then agitated the bag with a spoon. ‘Dunno. I haven’t decided.’ Then I saw he was waiting for more and added quickly, ‘Do you need me to move my stuff out?’
‘No. No, not at all.’ He shook his head. ‘That wasn’t what I meant.’ He leaned across and put his hand on mine, where it rested on the arm of my chair. ‘I’d much rather you came back to Menlo Park.’
I looked down at his fingers covering mine. His touch was warm and inviting. Then I noticed he wasn’t wearing his wedding ring. If he’d seen I wasn’t wearing mine either, he hadn’t said anything.
I paused, as the significance sunk in. ‘I don’t think I can do that,’ I said sadly.
‘Will you at least tell me where you’re living?’
I shrugged. ‘It’s a nice village. Near Cambridge. It suits me.’
‘And … you’re okay for money?’
‘Yup.’ I was making ends meet, but only just. Still, that wasn’t his problem and considering I’d confessed to a new relationship, it was a generous question. He really was being kind. Then I remembered he was the one who’d got us into this mess in the first place.
I looked at my watch. ‘I always seem to hit rush hour,’ I said.
‘How are you getting back?’
‘Liverpool Street. Or maybe King’s Cross.’
‘I’ll come and see you off.’
‘You don’t have to do that. I’m fine.’
‘I’d like to.’
So we wedged ourselves onto a packed Circle line train, strap-hanging in near silence with dozens of strangers, the combined body heat drawing wisps of steam from our damp clothes.
At Liverpool Street, we found I had twenty minutes before the Cambridge train.
‘I’d better spend a penny,’ I said, leaving him beside the escalator.
In fact, my visit cost me an exorbitant thirty pence. Britain was becoming an expensive place to live.
When I returned, James was standing in the same spot, but was now holding a large bunch of freesias wrapped in pink tissue paper.
He gave them to me awkwardly. ‘I wanted to get you something,’ he said. ‘I don’t know why, but these just reminded me of you.’
I took them, said a simple thank you, and swallowed down the invading lump in my throat.
‘Well. Bye then,’ he said.
‘Bye.’
After hesitating, he kissed me on the cheek. I ducked my head and walked away quickly, through the ticket barrier and onto the platform. As I boarded the train, I looked back, and saw he was still there. My husband raised his hand in a simple wave, and then I lost sight of him in the commuter crowd.
I hefted my bag onto the luggage rack and folded myself into a seat, the freesias on my lap. Gingerly, I sniffed, and as the deep, sensuous scent floated up, I let the tears stream down my face.
James wasn’t good with girlie stuff; he wouldn’t remember details like this. I’m sure he had absolutely no idea he’d just given me the same flowers I’d carried on our wedding day.
CHAPTER 28
‘I owe you big time,’ I said to Nancy, two weeks later. ‘This was a disaster until you stepped in.’
The Thanksgiving meal at Saffron Hall had just finished, most of the guests had gone home, and the catering staff were beginning to pick their way through the vast mounds of debris on each table.
Nancy surveyed the ballroom. ‘It looks like a whole new disaster now.’
I smiled. ‘I’m glad I’m not clearing up.’
Over a hundred people had squeezed into the space at round tables of eight, and had been served a traditional Thanksgiving dinner including turkey, sweet potatoes and green bean casserole. For dessert, apple pie or pumpkin pie – or both – had been offered. There had been much talking, laughing and, naturally, giving gratitude for blessings big and small.
‘I still don’t know how you did it,’ I said.
Nancy grinned. ‘I just spread the word a bit.’
She had done much more than that. Moving the ticketing online had been a master stroke, and she had also persuaded the human resources director at her company to give us a plug in the staff newsletter. A couple of families told me they had been in the village for Halloween, and four whole tables had been sold to American military
personnel from the Air Force base at Lakenheath.
‘I’m amazed,’ I had said, upon learning this. ‘Don’t they have free turkey at the base?’
‘I guess they wanted something different,’ Nancy had replied. ‘Our venue is more special.’
Needless to say, Bernard and Daphne were over the moon with the income – and more importantly, awareness – the day had generated.
‘Here she is!’ Bernard cried, shaking my hand enthusiastically.
Daphne bounded up behind him, looking twenty years younger than she was.
‘Grace, dear, this has been absolutely marvellous,’ she said, hugging me.
‘I can’t accept responsibility.’ I meant it. ‘Please meet my friend Nancy, she really turned this around for us.’
Bernard shook Nancy’s hand. ‘Did you enjoy your dinner, my dear?’
‘It was swell,’ Nancy replied. ‘It was so great not to be alone this evening.’
I knew that feeling, and how hard special days in the calendar could be. As well as raising money for the Hall, we’d offered something valuable to those who were thousands of miles from home.
‘So, Grace,’ Daphne said brightly, ‘we were wondering about doing mince pies and carols on the Sundays leading up to Christmas. What do you think?’
‘Sounds wonderful,’ I said. ‘We can send an email announcement to everyone who was here tonight.’
‘Gosh, how flash,’ said Bernard. ‘I was going to draft something on my typewriter.’
Daphne poked him in the arm. ‘Don’t be a clot, dear. It’s all on Facebook these days, isn’t it, Grace?’
We laughed.
‘Have I missed the party?’ called a voice from the other side of the room.
‘Scott, darling!’ His mother was the first to claim a kiss, and I was surprised to see Bernard hug his son briefly too. I had been under the impression they weren’t close.
‘Hi Grace,’ Scott said to me, but with no attempt at a physical greeting. He was in a dark business suit, looking tired, somewhat creased, but absolutely delicious. The loosened tie and five o’clock shadow suited him. I hadn’t seen him since his trip to Manchester, although we had spoken on the phone.
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