Should she really be going out tonight? Most people facing the anniversary of the loss of a loved one would have been mourning today, maybe visiting a grave or a garden of remembrance. Tress had done neither of those things. In fact, after his cremation, she’d allowed Max’s parents to take his ashes back to their home in Cyprus so that they’d always have him with them. He was an imperfect husband, but to them, he was their only son and it had felt right to give him to them. She wanted no physical place of rest here that would make her feel guilty for not visiting. There was a happy picture of Max in Buddy’s room, but no room for starting painful annual mourning traditions, especially not on her son’s birthday.
As soon as his breathing told her he’d nodded off, Tress leaned down and kissed his forehead, then stroked the side of his cheek. ‘Goodnight, little one. And happy birthday,’ she whispered. ‘Just so you know, I’m going to make sure you have a wonderful life, because I love you with my whole heart.’
He murmured and then exhaled, his perfect little rosebud lips turning up at the edges. Probably gas, but she was going to tell herself that it was because he understood every word.
She could hear Nancy singing a bit of Shania downstairs when she went into her room for a quick shower. When she got out, Shania had transitioned into a power ballad by Celine. Apparently, Nancy’s heart would go on. Tress wasn’t so sure about her own.
Okay. Deep breath. What was the dress code? What did someone wear for their first date in years? And, even worse, what did someone wear when they were going out with Rex Marino, sexy TV actor, almost ten years younger than her, and touted by some Scottish newspapers to be the next James Bond?
She threw open her wardrobe doors and saw a sea of black. It was pretty much all she wore even before she was a widow in mourning.
Three hangers came out, three went back in. One out. One back in. Three pairs of jeans were tried and discarded until finally she abandoned all notions of trying to be trendy and went for classic instead.
A black crepe oversized tuxedo jacket, slimline trousers in the same fabric, a silver silk V-neck body suit underneath, high stiletto boots and finished off with the Valentino bag Noah had bought her for Christmas. She thought about compression knickers but changed her mind. She was anxious enough without adding a ten-minute wrangle with spandex before she could pee. She pulled her hair up into a ponytail, leaving some tendrils down to frame her face. A bit of make-up, a squirt of Chanel No 5 and she was ready.
In the living room, Nancy cheered when she saw her. ‘Well, hello!’ she exclaimed, taking in the suit and the hair and the heels. ‘You look gorgeous, pet. You really do. It’s lovely to seeyou all dressed up.’ Nancy choked on the last word, and Tress immediately felt tears spring to her bottom lids.
‘Don’t you dare make me cry, Nancy Jenkins.’
Nancy was fanning her face by this point. ‘I’m sorry, sweetheart, but there have been times over this last year that we were worried you’d never remember how it felt to get a bit of lippy on and go enjoy yourself. Another month and me and Val were going to take you to singles night at the bingo. Apparently, there’s at least three men under fifty there.’
Tress swallowed the lump in her throat and managed to regain her composure. ‘Well, if I’d known that I’d have got dolled up and dragged you there months ago.’
‘There’s still time if this one doesn’t work out. I’ve heard one of the blokes still has his own teeth. Anyway, stand there a minute so I can take a photo. I told Val I’d send her a pic of you in your glad rags. And also, you know, it’s good to have in case we need to give it to the police to help identify you. I really need to stop watchingSilent Witness.’
Nancy picked up her phone and snapped away, and Tress indulged her by making faces at the camera. When she was done, Nancy pinged a few more buttons, then tossed her phone on the couch, and changed the subject. ‘Did you manage to get a hold of Noah? I can’t stop thinking about him with that Anya one. Honestly, that lassie has got some nerve on her.’
‘I’ve tried, but it just keeps going to voicemail. I’ll try again in a wee while.’ Tress was cut off by the sound of an incoming text. ‘That might be him now…’ She glanced at the screen. ‘No, it’s Rex. He’s outside.’
Nancy crossed the living room like a stunt woman half her age to get to the window for a good look. ‘In the name of the flash git, has he brought two cars? There’s a sports car outside and a big fancy black limo thing further down the street next to my house.’
Tress peered out. She could see Rex’s red Ferrari, and then the limo just on the other side of Nancy’s house. The streetlights above it were out, so it was impossible to see inside. ‘No, I think he’s in the sports car. The McKelvies on the other side of you must have posh visitors.’
‘I’ll be round at her window first thing tomorrow morning to get the gossip. If Hilda McKelvie has won the Postcode Lottery, I want to be first in the queue. Right, pet,’ she gave Tress a hug. ‘Have a brilliant time. And if you want to make it a sleepover, you go ahead. I’ve got my nightie and my slippers in my bag and Val is coming back round in a wee while to keep me company.’
Tress returned the hug, shaking her head. The last thing she had on her mind tonight was staying over with Rex Marino. The very thought of spending the night naked next to anyone scared her to death. Terrified her.
And she was going to ignore the little voice in her mind, saying that maybe that was the best reason to do it.
23
NOAH
‘No.’ His one-word answer was calm but unequivocable.
‘But, Noah…?’ Eyes pleading, she leaned forward, put her hand on his and he very calmly but quickly pulled it back.
He cut her off. ‘Anya, I’m sorry,’ he said as gently as he possibly could. This was the same voice he used when delivering awful news to patients. Calm. Lay out the facts. Have compassion, but don’t give false hope. ‘It’s no. It’ll always be no. There’s no world in which that will change.’
She sat back in her chair, and he could see by the way she exhaled just how much it had taken for her to come here and say that.
However, there was a bigger part of him that questioned her timing. It made sense that she’d come back to Scotland on the anniversary of the accident. There was something significant in that. One year. A turn around the sun. Closing the door. Moving on. But to come to him with this? Why would she even consider it a good idea to do that? Today had just as much significance for him. How could she possibly think he’d be open to picking that scab on today of all days?
Or perhaps that was the point. Maybe she thought he’d be vulnerable today.
Or maybe that hadn’t even crossed her mind, because, just like 365 days ago, when she had headed to a country hotel with Tress’s husband for a last weekend of secret sex, maybe she was only thinking about herself.
Well, no. Not today.
