Shut Your Eyes (The You Don't Know Me Trilogy Book 3)

by Lee, Mandy

  ‘I know that. A little while. That’s all.’ Picking up the pot, he fills the sweet pea cups. ‘Right.’ He hands me a cup. ‘Let’s go.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘You’ll see.’

  I follow him back out into the orchard, stopping here and there while Dan tells our guests we need a few minutes together, on our own. He leads me through into the kitchen garden, along the grass walkway between the vegetable patches, finally halting at the bench … beneath the sweet peas. He takes my cup, waiting for me to settle on the bench. It’s not easy, not with the bump and several thousand pounds worth of wedding dress. When I’m finally comfortable, he hands me back my cup and sits by my side.

  ‘Remember our first time here?’ he asks.

  How could I ever forget?

  ‘Of course.’

  I sip at the tea, suppress a grimace at the metallic taste, and cast my mind back to that perfect evening when I first thought I’d got to the heart of him. And barring a few facts, perhaps I had … sweet, kind, a little lost.

  ‘You gave me a handful of sweet peas,’ I prompt him, knowing what he wants to do.

  He places his cup on the ground and turns away. In the few seconds it takes him to pick a handful of flowers, I grab my opportunity to throw the tea away. Turning back, he hands me the sweet peas, takes my empty cup and places it next to his.

  ‘They’re not the most expensive flowers in the world.’ He squints into the sun. ‘But they’re the dearest to my heart.’

  Because his adoptive parents sat out here every evening in the summer, hardly saying a word as they were so comfortable together.

  ‘And to my heart too,’ I add. ‘Lucy thinks I’ve over-egged the pudding. Too many sweet peas.’

  ‘Some puddings are better that way.’

  He takes my hand, threading his fingers through mine, watching them, deep in thought.

  ‘You drifted off when we were here,’ he reminds me. ‘I asked you what you were thinking about.’

  ‘Penny for them.’

  ‘You said they weren’t worth that much. What were you thinking about? You can tell me now.’

  ‘I was day-dreaming … about being married to you, about sitting here and drinking tea, and watching the kids play.’

  ‘That early on?’

  ‘That early on,’ I confirm. ‘I didn’t want to admit it.’

  ‘Well, here we are, complete with child number one.’ He rests his palm on my stomach and right on cue, child number one decides to stretch, forcing a foot into my diaphragm.

  ‘Oooh,’ I groan.

  The baby moves again, shoving an elbow outwards. Dan feels it and smiles.

  ‘When do you think we’ll pop out child number two?’

  ‘Excuse me, let’s get this over with first. Slow down.’ I arch my back. ‘All I know is this. We’ve got six bedrooms, all freshly decorated. Leaving one for guests, that means we’ve got four bedrooms to fill.’

  ‘Four?’ He mouths the word with a look of mock terror.

  I give him a look of real terror in return. What the hell have I just said? I want four children? I want morning sickness and stretch lines and indigestion four sodding times? I shake my head.

  ‘Yes, four.’

  ‘And what about your pelvic floor?’

  I smile, recalling my drunken outburst at Harrods.

  ‘You’ll still love me when I’m incontinent.’

  ‘You’re a coarse woman, Mrs Foster.’ Leaning in, he kisses me gently on the lips. ‘But I wouldn’t have it any other way. Have I told you your massive pregnant tits look wonderful in this dress?’

  I pull back my head and give him a good dose of disgust.

  ‘You’re a dirty bugger, Mr Foster. But I wouldn’t have it any other way. So, why are we here then?’

  ‘Because I’ve got a few more vows for you, just as solemn as the ones we made in front of everyone … but these are private.’

  I’m intrigued.

  ‘Go ahead.’

  ‘Okay.’ He rubs his chin. ‘I’ve already done the love, honour and obey thing, till death us to part, etcetera. They’re kind of umbrella vows, aren’t they?’

  ‘Get on with it.’

  ‘Okay, so I hereby vow to stop steamrollering you into things.’ He waves a hand and shrugs. ‘Well, obviously, it’s a bit of a habit, but just kick me if I start.’

  ‘Understood.’

  ‘And I also vow to consult you on every important decision I make.’

  ‘Every important decision we make,’ I correct him.

  ‘Quite right. We.’ He surveys the garden. ‘I vow to support you and encourage you wherever it’s necessary. I vow to listen to you and your every need …’

  ‘This sounds too perfect to be true.’

  ‘Cynic,’ he chides me. ‘I’m still going to be pretty selfish in certain areas. For example, I’ll probably get an erection in your presence when it’s most inappropriate, and I’ll have to fuck you senseless on an incredibly regular basis. But all in all, I’ll be the best husband you could possibly wish for, the best dad to this little one, and any further inconveniences to your pelvic floor, planned or unplanned. Oh, and finally, I vow never to keep another secret from you.’

  ‘Unless it’s a good secret.’

  ‘Which is?’

  ‘Presents, umbrellas, that sort of thing.’

  ‘Oh, I get it.’ He nods. ‘Good secrets.’

  ‘So, I should make some vows to you.’

  ‘You don’t have to.’

  ‘I want to. I vow to support you and encourage you where it’s necessary. I vow to use my brain before my mouth and stop being so bloody stubborn. I vow never to run away from anything that scares me. I vow to face it all, head on, with you at my side. I vow to put all my dirty clothes in the washing basket. And I’ll try to remember to put the lid on the toothpaste. Oh, and I vow to do a bit better with the cooking thing.’

  ‘That pretty much covers all the bases.’

  ‘So, it does.’

  ‘Oi!’ Lucy calls from the gate. ‘What are you two doing in here?’

  ‘Oi!’ a second voice joins in.

  Pushing past her, Lily staggers towards us, veers onto a vegetable patch and stumbles about amongst a forest of broccoli, sniggering uncontrollably.

  ‘Oh for God’s sake,’ I mutter. ‘That’s my fault. I told Lucy to cheer her up.’

  Sara appears by Lucy’s side and pushes her headlong into the courgettes.

  ‘Well, it seems to have worked,’ Dan comments wryly. ‘They’re enjoying themselves.’

  While Lucy wrestles with a massive courgette, Sara reaches down to help her back to her feet, loses her balance and joins her on the ground. The broccoli quivers. Lily’s face appears for a second or two, then disappears again. It’s not a ladylike display … far from it.

  ‘I just wanted today to be perfect,’ I sigh.

  ‘It is perfect.’

  ‘Really? We got married in a downpour, and now everyone’s covered in mud. I had a strop in a thunderstorm, my dress doesn’t fit, I’m wearing a cardigan, I’ve got a foot in my ribs and I can’t stop going to the toilet. And that lot are pissed out of their tiny minds.’ I wave at the three women. Cackling like witches, they’re busy throwing courgettes at each other. ‘The kids are feral, the cake’s ruined …’

  ‘Who cares?’ Dan interrupts with a smile. ‘I certainly don’t.’

  ‘I just wanted to do it right. I suppose I wanted to prove a point.’

  ‘Which is?’

  ‘That I’m not a complete disaster area, that I’m capable of organising things.’

  He laughs.

  ‘I didn’t marry you for your organisational skills. If I remember rightly, you were the worst PA in the world. I married you because you’re you. Chaos follows you everywhere, Maya, and I love it.’ He stands and straightens his waistcoat. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me for a minute, it seems I need to rescue three drunken women from a vegetable patch.’

&nb
sp; Chapter Twenty-Seven

  I pause outside Fosters Construction. The evening migration is well under way, surrounding me with a bustling, seething mass of office workers, most of them heading home. Standing my ground, I let the bodies filter round me, recalling the first time I ever stood here. Back then, I was riddled with anxiety, but there’s barely a trace of it now. I know exactly why it’s still hanging around, though. The winding-down operation is coming to an end, this is the last day that Fosters will be Fosters, and I can’t help worrying that his soon to be ex-workforce will blame it all on me.

  I look up at the fifteen storeys of darkened glass while the last of the October evening sunlight glints against the windows, and think of the man behind the façade. He’s up there, waiting for me, counting on my support. And no matter how nervous I feel, I’m giving it to him. When I walk back out of here, I’ll be by my husband’s side, and neither of us will ever be coming back.

  With a deep breath, I edge forward, nod a quick greeting to the doorman and manoeuvre the pushchair through the revolving door. Inside, the atrium’s almost exactly as I remember it: an imposing space littered with plush leather chairs, coffee tables and pot plants. But the reception desk’s abandoned now. Under Mrs Kavanagh’s supervision, the blonde and brunette are busy laying out champagne flutes on tables. Avoiding their attention, I head straight for the lift, shoulders slumping in relief when the doors close behind me. As we begin to rise, I check on the pushchair’s little passenger, finding a pair of bright blue eyes gazing back up at me. I smile at my son, suddenly strengthened by a rush of love for him. He’s slept all the way down from Lambeth, allowing me to enjoy my walk in peace. But now we’re here, he’s wide awake again.

  ‘Daddy’s big day,’ I tell him. ‘Try not to be sick on him.’

  His eyes spark and he lets out a gurgle.

  The lift comes to a halt, the doors sliding open to reveal the swanky lobby on the top floor. I step out, taking in the huge pictures, the marble floor, the glass desk where Carla normally sits. She’s not there now.

  ‘Oh.’ Coming out of the kitchen, she stops in her tracks, clapping her hands together. ‘Can I have a hold?’

  I gawp at Dan’s personal assistant. We’ve barely ever talked and I certainly never had her down as the type to turn all mushy over a baby.

  ‘He might throw up on you,’ I warn her.

  ‘That’s okay.’ She shrugs, half-embarrassed. ‘I can take it.’

  I unbuckle Jack, carefully retrieve him from the pushchair and hand him over. She takes him confidently, and pulls a face.

  ‘Are you staying on here?’ I ask tentatively.

  ‘No, I’ve got a new job with Mr Watson. He’s setting up an accountancy company.’

  ‘I never knew,’ I apologise, wishing I’d shown more interest before.

  The truth is I’ve not been back here since I was on the receiving end of a good seeing-to and a strange proposal in the lift. Pregnancy, painting, house renovations, the wedding, a new baby – it’s all distracted me from visiting Dan’s workplace.

  ‘You’ve had a lot on your mind.’ She holds Jack under his arms, away from herself. ‘He’s absolutely gorgeous. Beautiful eyes. How old is he now?’

  ‘Eight weeks.’

  And a complete handful, I’d like to add. Although I couldn’t love him more, and Dan’s proved himself to be a thoroughly supportive and loving dad, true to Beefy’s words the last few weeks have been a blur of nappies and feeding and soothing.

  ‘Well, he’s a stunner.’ She offers him back and nods to the half-open door. ‘Mr Foster’s waiting for you.’

  ‘Yes,’ I mutter. ‘Well …’ I rearrange Jack in my arms and plant a kiss on his forehead. ‘This is it, then. I’m sorry,’ I blurt, overwhelmed by guilt.

  ‘What for?’

  ‘This.’ I wave my free hand in the air. ‘If I hadn’t turned up, he wouldn’t have sold the company. You must all hate me.’

  ‘Nobody hates you,’ she reassures me, touching Jack on the cheek. ‘It’s just time for a change. I suppose the accident made him think.’

  ‘I suppose so.’

  In an instant, I decide to keep the truth to myself: that he’d already decided to move on, even before the accident. I’ve got a decent excuse, ready-made protection from blame, and I’m going to use it.

  ‘To be honest,’ Carla goes on, ‘I’ve never seen him so relaxed … so happy. I’m pleased for him, for all of you. Honestly. Now, go on.’

  She motions to the doorway.

  Leaving the pushchair in the lobby, I take the changing-bag and walk through into Dan’s office. I find him standing by the window, gazing out over the Thames. He’s jacketless, wearing charcoal grey trousers and a matching waistcoat, and he’s every bit as delectable as the first time I ever laid eyes on him. I’m just admiring his backside when Jack lets out a squeal.

  Dan turns.

  ‘You took your time,’ he grins, coming over to join us.

  ‘Well, I would have been here earlier, but somebody decided to fill their nappy before we left.’ I drop the bag on the floor. ‘So, I changed their nappy, and then they filled it again.’

  ‘Oh, oh.’

  Slipping an arm around my waist, he delivers a kiss that would go on forever if it weren’t for the baby wriggling in my arms. Dan pulls back, looks down and ruffles Jack’s blond fluffy hair.

  ‘Hello, little man. Have you been good for Mummy?’

  Jack lifts his mouth into a lop-sided, gummy grin.

  ‘I think that’s a yes.’ Taking the baby from me, he sinks onto a sofa. Immediately, Jack pushes himself to his feet.

  ‘Two months old, and he’s trying to walk,’ I observe. ‘He’s got your genes. In a rush to do everything.’

  ‘Determined,’ Dan confirms, smiling at his son. ‘You carry on like that and you’ll get everything you want in life … just like Daddy.’

  With a delighted squawk, Jack tries to bounce, landing a foot on Dan’s crotch in the process.

  ‘Well, that’s enough of that,’ Dan winces, encouraging the baby back onto his bottom.

  ‘All done?’

  ‘All done.’

  Completely oblivious to the fact that a tiny hand has managed to grab hold of his tie, he surveys the office, his desk, the sofas, the huge glass meeting table.

  ‘Sixteen years,’ he muses.

  ‘Second thoughts?’

  He shakes his head.

  ‘I just don’t know where the time’s gone.’ He looks round again. ‘This place has some fond memories, but only from the last few months. I should have had the furniture put in storage, especially this couch.’ He focusses back on Jack. ‘This is Daddy’s favourite couch. It should have a plaque.’

  Because it was the site of our first full-on sexual encounter.

  ‘There’ll be other couches,’ I smile.

  ‘There certainly will. And desks. And windows. And maybe bathrooms. I’ll have a great office at the new gallery.’ He pulls a silly face at Jack. ‘Mummy needs to come and see it … all on her own.’

  I sit next to Dan, and I just can’t help it. Even now, at the eleventh hour, I’m still plagued by uncertainty.

  ‘Was this the right thing to do?’

  ‘Chill your beans, wife.’ Carefully, he pulls his tie out of Jack’s mouth. ‘I’m finally getting to live the way I want to live. The galleries won’t consume me, not like this place. I’ll have more time with you and the milk monster.’

  While Jack lurches forward, grabbing for his tie again, Dan locks eyes with me, and I gaze into those bright blue irises, reassured by their softness.

  ‘I’ll be right behind you.’ I put a hand on his knee.

  ‘And I’ll be right behind you too. You need to get back to painting.’

  He’s right. I haven’t touched a paintbrush since the birth.

  ‘I’ll do it soon, but I’m not having a nanny.’

  ‘You don’t need a nanny. I’ll be around.’

  Jack s
queals again, this time through a mouthful of regurgitated milk and before I can do anything about it, Dan’s trousers have been spattered.

  ‘Oh God,’ he groans. ‘Wipes!’

  Leaping up from the sofa, I scramble through the bag, pull out the wipes and offer them to him. Taking the pack, he lifts an eyebrow, refuses my help and does his best to clean up the mess, one-handed. There’s no time to dry out the trousers and I know for a fact the spare suits have already been returned to the apartment. He’ll just have to make his grand exit, looking like he’s lost control of his bladder. He throws the used wipes onto the table and makes a face at Jack.

  ‘Oh dear.’ Clive’s at the doorway now, with Lucy at his side. ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘Baby sick all over Mr Mean and Hot and Moody,’ I explain. ‘All part and parcel of parenthood.’

  While Dan frowns, evidently confused by my code name for him, Clive approaches and holds out his hands.

  ‘Come to your godfather.’ He takes Jack and admires him. ‘He looks more like you every day. It’s a tiny Dan.’

  ‘I should hope so, seeing as he is the dad,’ Lucy adds, kissing Jack on the head. ‘So, are you ready to stay the night with Uncle Clivey and Auntie Lucy?’

  I sense a pang, deep down inside. I know it’s Dan’s big day – and he’s determined for us to have a ‘special evening’ to celebrate – but I’m not sure I’m ready to let Jack go.

  ‘I don’t know about this,’ I muse, gazing at him. ‘He’s so little.’

  ‘He’ll be fine,’ Lucy counters.

  ‘I just don’t know …’

  ‘He’ll be fine,’ she repeats, glaring at me. ‘The trial run was a success.’

  ‘That was an afternoon. This is a whole night.’

  ‘Stop moaning. Me and Clivey are more than capable of looking after little Jack. It’s not difficult. You put stuff in here.’ She points at his mouth. ‘And stuff comes out of here.’ She pats his bottom.

  He giggles.

  ‘It’s not that simple.’

  ‘You’ve got to trust us. We’ve got everything we need for the night. We’ll call you if there’s a problem … but there won’t be a problem.’

  ‘He’s hard work.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter. One day, I’m sure we’ll be asking you to do the same for us.’