He thought of Chloe, of her lovely selfless nature and her funny self-conscious habits – how his life had changed once he met her, from its endless dullish hues into a release of fresh colour. It had no longer seemed as if his soul mate had disappeared years ago, but rather that she had been waiting patiently all this time for him to relinquish the past and catch up to her. And until now, he thought he had moved on.
But in the past forty-eight hours everything had changed. It seemed you couldn’t just shrug off your past. It was attached to you like a shadow – travelling with you everywhere, catching up with you whenever you faltered. The only real option was to turn and face it; deal with it; be rid of it in such a way that you could be certain it wouldn’t reappear.
And that was why he had to find Julia. To talk to her. To understand. And to tell her just how utterly, utterly sorry he was. Yet he had an unshakeable feeling in the pit of his being that, whatever he did now, someone was going to get hurt. More than anything he wanted to protect Chloe, but he had made a promise, hadn’t he, and now that Julia was back in his life, he couldn’t just forget about that.
No matter which way he turned, he couldn’t see the right way forward.
It was only when he reached the end of the track, with densely packed trees blocking his progress in every direction, that he realised he must have strayed off course without even noticing. At the same time it dawned on him that to have any chance of finding Julia he was going to have to talk to one of the few people he disliked intensely. He only hoped Mark didn’t feel as strongly about him, or he was already in trouble and he hadn’t even started yet.
With a heavy heart he stopped walking and turned around to retrace his steps, hoping it wouldn’t take him too long to find the pathway again.
12
The sun was low in the sky as they drove the few miles to June and George’s. Chloe grimaced as it bored brightly into her eyes, and tried to keep her concentration on the road.
Alex was sitting beside her, silent, smartly groomed in a white shirt with a light blue check and dark blue jeans. Chloe’s mother was behind them in the back seat, chattering away inconsequentially. Alex and Chloe had stopped replying to her a good ten minutes ago and she didn’t seem to have noticed. It was like supermarket muzak – they tuned in now and again and the rest of the time it washed over them subliminally. The sweet stink of her mother’s perfume – had she bathed in the stuff? – had overwhelmed Chloe when they’d first got in the car. She wondered if it was the pregnancy – she didn’t normally get queasy from her mother’s Elizabeth Arden.
After Chloe had made her verbal slip that morning, her mother had continually tried to talk to her about the pregnancy as they progressed through town, until Chloe had had to say quite rudely, ‘Can we just stop,’ at which point Margaret had taken umbrage and stopped talking about anything at all, which meant the rest of the shopping trip had passed in a rather blissful silence. They hadn’t got back until late afternoon, and so it had seemed a rush to turn around and get ready for their trip out this evening. Chloe just prayed that her mother would be able to keep quiet. Why had she entrusted her with something so important?
June and George’s house suddenly rose to greet them as they topped a hill, and Chloe slowed and pulled into the driveway. The huge farmhouse door was open within milliseconds – June must have been watching for them through the letterbox, Chloe mused, as she got out of the car, waving and smiling.
June and Margaret greeted each other as though they were two old Dames reunited at the BAFTAs, and everyone watched and waited from the wings till the performance had finished. Then Chloe spotted George in the doorway and walked over to him.
‘How are you, Chloe?’ he greeted her warmly, kissing her cheek. ‘And Alex.’ He extended his hand and they shook firmly. George looked across at his wife and rolled his eyes. ‘You wouldn’t think those two saw each other every Wednesday at the gardening club. Come on in.’
George led the way and they followed, Alex gently placing a hand on the small of Chloe’s back as she moved forward. She was immediately aware of his touch and turned to him. He was watching her, an odd intense look on his face, but as she smiled so did he.
This is unbearable, Chloe thought as she turned away. Why am I trying to read his every expression? This is my husband: we’re best friends, soul mates – we instinctively know the other. How on earth has this suddenly become so hard?
Two hours later, after a feast of roast lamb and veggies and conversation dominated by gardening-club gossip from June and Margaret, they had all retired to the lounge. The men were swirling whisky around their glasses, listening as the older women held court. Chloe was exhausted. She kept watching Alex to see if he exhibited signs of tiredness, but he appeared fine. Mind you, she thought grumpily, he’d had a lie in, while it felt like she’d been up shopping since dawn. She’d managed to abstain from alcohol over dinner by saying she was driving. Normally she would still have had a glass, but she’d said she was tired so didn’t dare indulge, and everyone had accepted that.
‘So, Chloe -’ Chloe snapped out of her daydreaming as she heard her name – ‘getting clucky yet?’
Damn you, June, Chloe thought, noticing that her mother was watching intently. She glared at her, wondering if Margaret had been unable to keep her mouth shut for even half a day, but the woman gave an almost imperceptibly small shake of her head in reply.
‘A little…’ she said hesitantly.
Alex came to life immediately. ‘Are you?’ He leaned forward, leather chair creaking as he did so. ‘That’s news to me.’
‘Happens to us all, Alex, sooner or later,’ Margaret chipped in breezily.
‘Well, maybe, but we’re not ready for that yet, are we, Chloe?’
‘Aren’t we?’ Chloe, stunned, looked at Alex.
‘Well, no. I need to establish my business more – and you’ve got stuff you want to do in the practice – there’s no need to rush it.’
‘I suppose -’
Margaret cut in. ‘But there’s never a perfect time, Alex. Remember that.’
‘I know.’ Alex sounded irritated. ‘But Chlo and I need to feel solid and secure in our lives before we complicate everything with a kid. I’m just not interested at the moment.’
Margaret, her jaw slack, looked at Chloe. And Chloe, horrifyingly, felt tears spring to her eyes. She stared down at her tepid mug of tea. ‘Well, then,’ she said, fighting her tears and the hot blush she could feel staining her cheeks.
When she glanced up, Alex was watching her in surprise, and she was sure he’d guessed. There had been an awkward silence for a number of excruciating seconds now, and he opened his mouth to fill it just as June said, ‘Well, poor Jeanna can’t have any children. It breaks my heart that our son won’t ever be a father.’
‘June!’ George scolded crossly. ‘It’s actually none of our business, and besides, our girls have produced enough between them to keep a primary school from going under.’
Alex’s attention was still on Chloe, but he didn’t seem shocked now so much as intrigued. Maybe he hadn’t guessed at all.
Chloe avoided meeting his gaze, then sat back and closed her eyes. June was still talking about how Jeanna and Michael were planning to travel for six months next year, now that they’d come to terms with the news. Lucky old Jeanna, Chloe thought to herself, then immediately rubbed her tummy superstitiously and said silently, I didn’t mean it, baby. I didn’t mean it.
13
Mark arrived at the house in a foul mood. An hour’s journey on a winter’s night had taken him more than twice as long as it should have done. Had he not felt so tired, he would have been furious and vowing to write to somebody important over this disgrace of a transport system. Leaves on the line, snow on the line – even bloody bodies on the line, according to one whispered remark behind him. There was something utterly repulsive about the mindset of a commuter, that now, every time he heard of a body on the line his only thought was, ‘Well, get it off the bloody line, then, and let’s be on our way.’