“So, what do you do for fun?” asked Andrew.
Laura smiled. “It’s questions like these that always remind me I need to take more time off.”
“I know what you mean. Running a business, it’s a monster that chews up all your waking hours.”
“So, not much time for anything else?”
“I do try and keep fit.”
“What’s your thing?”
“Triathlons, mainly. Set myself a target twice a year.”
Laura kept smiling, but inside she was deeply uncomfortable. She’d expressly told Isabella not to set her up. It felt like another weight on her shoulders, an evening she had to spend being polite to a man that she had no interest in, at least not romantically. What had he been told? Christ, it was so embarrassing. She was suddenly angry, which made her feel exhausted, which in turn angered her more. She got through the meal as best she could. More than once, she wondered what Daniel was doing. When was she ever going to hear from him? The questions whirled around her head, tormenting her while she fended off polite questions about the difference between a director and a producer. She announced her departure as soon as was reasonable. Andrew said a perfunctory good-bye and she felt a flash of guilt—he knew she hadn’t been keen on her dinner companion.Damn Isabella for being so interfering.She came over then, said she’d escort Laura to the door.
“I wish you weren’t leaving so soon.” Isabella peered at her, noticed her tense mood. “You are okay, aren’t you? Not coming down with anything?”
“No, Isabella, I’m not.”
“What’s wrong, then?”
“You either think I’m some sort of floozy or consider my marriage dead, neither of which is a particularly great sentiment from a so-called friend.”
It was harsh, too harsh, but it was said. Laura immediately felt guilty when she saw Isabella’s look of surprised hurt. But somehow she didn’t know how to, or didn’t want to, make amends.
* **
Laura left and got into the waiting cab that had been called for her. Her mood didn’t improve on the way home. When she got in, she found Howard not there. She went up to the second floor; seeing no light under his door, she tentatively knocked, then quietly opened it. His room and his bed were empty. He wasn’t in the den, either, and with a sinking feeling, she realized he must have gone to Marianne’s. She felt a flash of anger; she should have chatted up Andrew, after all. Not that he’d be interested now. Why was she able to burn bridges so easily these days?
Alone, she went into the kitchen and fixed herself a glass of wine. This wasn’t how she’d foreseen her life: her marriage a sham, despite her heated protestations to Isabella, and her only child estranged from her. She was suddenly hit with such a severe slice of loneliness, she was winded. What would happen if she lost them, both of them? The sadness that captured her stripped her raw and she got up from the kitchen table.
Leaving her wine behind, she hurried up the stairs, tripping on a step halfway, then ran into her room. She sat at the desk. She had to do something. She couldn’t just let Daniel go on, not knowing how she felt, letting that girl twist everything. A photo was hung above the desk, a black-and-white shot of her and Daniel when he was a baby. She looked up at it now and saw his delighted, adoring gaze as she held him above her head. Something caught in her throat. She’d poured so much into him, so much of herself. He was her joy, a person she had in part created in every sense of the word, her investment, her baby. She’d taught him how to write his name, to catch a ball, to ride a bike. Encouraged him to debate, to have an opinion, to stretch his mind. Shown him how to cook and how to treat women. If he wouldn’t let her in the flat and wouldn’t answer her calls, she’d have to try something else. An e-mail was risky; Cherry used Daniel’s computer, this much she knew. And she couldn’t post a letter—there was a good chance it would be intercepted. The only option was to give it to Ian, the porter, with strict instructions it was only to be handed to Daniel. She picked up her pen and started to write.
43
Friday, October 2
IT WAS HIS FIRST DAY OFF FROM THE HOSPITAL OR STUDY IN WHATseemed like weeks. Daniel felt an urge to escape and they got up early and went to Cambridge. Cherry had never been and said she wanted to see where he’d lived and studied all those years. They strolled along King’s Parade and Trinity Street, the formal university buildings watching over them like a collection of stern but fond headmasters. He pointed out which window had been his bedroom and where he’d gone for bacon sandwiches on a Sunday morning after a heavy night out.
She listened to him exclaim and laugh as the memories came back, but it wasn’t wistful nostalgia, which she was pleased about. She didn’t like not knowing about a great chunk of his life and didn’t want him to yearn for it and the girls that might have been a part of it. After she’d seen the sights of his university days, they decided to join the tourists.
It seemed a shame not to take a boat on the river, and Daniel watched as Cherry lay back, her eyes closed against the unexpected warm sun, summer’s last gasp before autumn fully took hold.
As usual, his stomach flipped over when he looked at her. She was so incredibly beautiful. Her long, dark lashes underscored her eyes like naughty smiles, and the hollow of her collarbone wasbathed in sunshine in such an inviting way that he wanted to dip his fingers in its warmth. It wasn’t just that he was deeply attracted to her. Daniel could spend hours with her without getting bored. She was clever and sometimes he wondered why she’d settled for a job that had seemed to him to be beneath her ability, but he’d respected her choice, and, anyway, she wasn’t doing it anymore.
The recent, uneasy thought popped into his head again: Cherry didn’t seem to be doing—or looking to be doing—anything. His face clouded over. He wouldn’t have thought like that if his mother hadn’t been so adamant about Cherry’s motivation for being with him. She was wrong, Cherry was genuine, but still, Daniel couldn’t shake a nagging sensation. Why was his mum so convinced?
He hadn’t returned her messages yet, as he didn’t know what to say to her. He was tired of trying to remain tactful under countless accusations of what his girlfriend was really like. He was tired of having to defend her. If he was honest, he was sick and tired of the entire subject and just wanted to get on with his life. He couldn’t ignore Laura forever, but he knew that as soon as he called, she’d bring it up again. And then there was that nagging thought, the thing he couldn’t quite tune out. He was becoming increasingly aware that since Cherry had moved in, she hadn’t said anything about getting a job.
“What are you thinking about?” Cherry had one eye open and was watching him.
He smiled. “Nothing. Just hoping it doesn’t rain.”
Cherry gazed skyward. Wisps of white gauze over cornflower blue. “Don’t think so.” She reached up and let her hand brush against the draping tendrils of a weeping willow as they glided downstream.
“Nice to get out of London.”
“Are you back in the hospital tomorrow?”
