Abi had made her amends to Laura at last. She could close the book.
“Abi!” It was William. His face was dark with anger. She hadn’t seen him look like that before. He was always so even tempered, so level altogether.
“Yes, William.”
“What the fuck was that about?”
He never swore usually either. Not real swearing.
“I can’t talk about it here.”
“You’re going to bloody well have to talk about it somewhere.”
“Why?”
“Why? Because I want some answers.”
“To what?”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake.”
“I don’t think heaven has much to do with it. William, please leave me alone. You must have something to milk, or scan or something.”
He turned then, walked away, over to his mother; she watched them getting into the Land Rover, saw it drive off, saw his bleak, set face. She struggled not to cry.
And then suddenly she knew, with a certainty that took her by surprise, that she had to talk to William, to try to explain and tell him that even while it was clearly hopeless, she did love him. She had to tell him that, in order to be able to wipe the slate clean. She couldn’t leave it unsaid. She’d humiliated herself over one man today, in front of a crowded courtroom; she could certainly do it over another in private…
Barney thought he would never forget leaving that courtroom: alone. He thought he had never felt more alone in his life. He looked at Toby, getting into a car with someone who looked like a driver; still avoiding his eyes, he had positively scuttled out of the courtroom, bloody coward he was, as well as a total arsehole. He felt sick just thinking about him. And humiliated and totally stupid. OK, Toby had done the decent thing, in the end, but he had still been prepared to see Barney go to the wall to save his own skin. His best friend. His lifelong best friend. Barney could still hardly believe it.
He saw the Abi girl getting into her car. How extraordinary, saying all that in court. Humiliating herself, in a way. Pretty brave. Dead sexy she looked. Gilliatt must be a pretty cool customer to turn his back on her. The pretty blond wife-bit preppy, bit of an Amanda-must be very good at her job as well. Her job as a wife, that was. As Amanda would have been too. She-
“Hi. Nice to see you. Barney, isn’t it? How’s it going?”
It was Mark Collins, the surgeon who’d operated on Toby that day. In another time, another life altogether. When he’d had a lot. Instead of nothing.
“Yes. Hello.” He didn’t really want to talk to him. He didn’t want to talk to anybody. Ever again. But he managed to smile, took Collins’s outstretched hand.
“And your friend. Toby. I see he’s walking pretty well.”
“Pretty well, yes,” said Barney shortly.
“Has the wedding taken place yet? I was thinking about it the other day, wondering if you’d be here.”
“No,” said Barney, “no, it hasn’t. The wedding’s off. Cancelled. Actually.”
“I see.” He could see Collins was taken aback. “Oh… I’m sorry. What about yours? Weren’t you getting married too?”
“I was, yes. That’s off as well.”
“I see.” Now he was really embarrassed. Poor sod. Thought he was going to have a quick cheerful chat, and he’d got lumbered with an episode from some kind of a soap opera.
“Er… how’s Emma?” he said. He was astonished to hear himself asking, so terrified was he of the answer.
“Oh… she’s fine, yes. Off to pastures new when she can organise it.”
“Really? What, you mean to… to Milan?”
“What? Oh, no, no, that’s history, I think. No, she’s applying for new jobs. She’s very excited about something up in Scotland; not sure how that’s going.”
“Great. I mean, well, I hope she gets it. Give her… that is, remember me to her, please.”
“I will, Barney. Look… I’d better go. Dr. Pritchard’s waiting. Nice to see you, anyway.”
“Yes, sure. And… do give my regards to Emma.”
“I will. Cheers.”
And he was gone.
So… what had that meant? About Milan being history? That the boyfriend was history? Or just… no longer in Milan? Maybe he should call her. But… supposing she was with Luke again? It would be painful for her. Well… he’d made it pretty clear he hadn’t… forgotten her. Forgotten her. If only. If only you could do that to order, just neatly get rid of something, remove it, throw it away.
Throw away something that had become an intrinsic part of you, grown into you; entwined itself into your memories, tangled into your feelings, changed forever the way you were.
If only.
He got into his car and headed for the M4. The M4, where so much of his life had been changed forever. He would never hear the words again without a sense of absolute despair.
“Good day, dear?” Susan Andrews had been making marmalade; the house was warm and tangy and welcoming. Michael Andrews felt as he so often did after a day spent hearing sad stories of cutoff lives: that he was inordinately blessed.
“Yes. Yes, pretty good, I think.”
“Difficult?”
“No, not really difficult. It’s perfectly clear what happened. But… surprising in some ways. Extraordinary things, human beings. I’m always saying that, aren’t I?”
“Yes, dear, you are.”
“Brave and cowardly, foolish and wise, reckless and careful. All at one and the same time. Unbelievable, really.”
Susan Andrews looked at her husband. He was looking very drawn, in spite of his positive words.
“Come into the kitchen and have a cup of tea,” she said, “and tell me about it.”
Emma had been trying not to think about the inquest all day; but first Alex and then Mark had come in to tell her about it. About the various people they’d been involved with who were there, most notably Patrick Connell and, of course, Toby. “Funny chap, that,” Mark had said. “Some confusion over his evidence; he got very aerated. Oh, and your boyfriend was there, of course.”
“My… boyfriend? What do you mean?” she said.
“You know, the good-looking one, best man, you brought him up to the theatre that day when I operated on Weston’s leg.”
“Oh,” she’d said, “him. Yes, well, I supposed he would have been.”
“Nice chap,” said Mark, and then proceeded to tell her that not only was Toby’s wedding off, but so was Barney’s engagement. Adding that Barney had asked to be remembered to her. That had hurt her so much she could hardly bear it; she’d had to say she was in the middle of something and run to the loo, where she cried for a long time.
Barney had finished with Amanda, but he hadn’t got in touch with her. As rejections went, that was pretty final. How could it have happened? Where had it gone, that lovely, singing happiness they had found together, that instant closeness, that absolute certainty that they were right for each other? OK, their relationship hadn’t lasted long; it hadn’t needed to. It had been like a fireworks show: starting from nowhere and suddenly everywhere, explosive, amazing, impossible to ignore. And now… what? A poor, damp squib had landed, leaving nothing behind it, a bleak, sorry memento of the blazing display.
She knew now, absolutely certainly, that he didn’t want her. If he had, he would have called her; there was no reason on earth left not to. Probably, after all, it had just been a fling for him, fun, good indeed, but no more. The commitment had been fake, the love phony; he was probably even now pursuing some other well-bred, preppy creature more suited to his background, less of a discord in his life.