Laura didn’t say anything. She still couldn’t work it all out. Think, think. It had been – what, six, seven months? Her hair was longer, which made her even more attractive, more sensual. Laura knew she had to keep calm, and then when her writer arrived – damn Willow for not knowing the difference – she’d just have to politely but firmly ask her to leave.
‘Despite what you may have thought, Daniel meant the world to me.’ Cherry’s tone suddenly became harsh. ‘Why didn’t you ever call to make sure I was coping OK?’
‘I . . . I’m sorry. I was just so caught up in my own . . . grief.’
‘Yes, and I suppose you had the funeral to arrange as well. No, hold on – you did that when I was on holiday. Couldn’t wait. What day did he die, by the way? You know, I’d really like to know where he’s buried, just so I can go and say goodbye.’
Laura was unnerved by the questions, by her not even waiting to hear answers. Cherry was watching her and she was grateful she’d already thought some of this through.
‘I’m afraid it was a cremation. And we took the ashes to France, which he always loved.’
Cherry stared at her and she looked away. ‘I’m sorry, Cherry, but I really do have a meeting starting—’
‘Just one more thing.’
Laura was beginning to feel impatient. OK, so she was probably grieving, but had it taken her all this time to get upset about it?
‘What is it?’
‘If Daniel hadn’t died, would you have been happy for us to be together?’
Laura stalled, tried an affectionate, exasperated smile. ‘What kind of a question—’
‘Oh good. Because I always thought you’d do something to stop it. It’s nice to know I was kind of a part of the family. Even if you didn’t invite me to the funeral.’
Cherry stood. ‘Thank you, Laura. This has helped a great deal. I just needed some sort of closure. It all happened so suddenly, and there was nothing concrete for me to see or visit – it just didn’t seem real, you know?’
Feeling slightly sick, Laura nodded.
‘I can see you’re busy, so I’ll be off.’ Cherry stuck out her hand, and after a moment’s hesitation, Laura shook it. Then Cherry turned and left the room. Feeling shaky, Laura clasped the side of the table, loosened her scarf. She waited a minute or two to give Cherry time to leave the building, then went out to Willow’s desk. There was no sign of her writer yet.
‘If my ten o’clock arrives, please take her to the meeting room. I’ll be two minutes.’
Willow nodded, startled by her boss’s face, and decided it wasn’t the time to tell her that the previous guest had gone into her office first before being told that wasn’t the meeting room. She’d caught her rifling through some papers on Laura’s desk. ‘Oh, silly me,’ she’d said, and then followed Willow to the large room next door.
Laura hurried back down the stairs. She’d pulled it off but was still feeling shaken. She needed a coffee fix, a strong one, and there was an Italian cafe right across the road whose double espressos she’d turned to in the dark days of Daniel’s illness to get her through the exhaustion. She pressed the door release to get back out on the street and stepped onto the pavement. Then she yelped with fright. Cherry was standing outside, leaning against the wall.
She smiled. ‘Well, you’ve saved me some time. I thought I was going to have to wait until you finished your day and I was just wondering what to do with myself.’
Laura stared at her, uncomprehending; her mind was already confused at having seen her, at her coming to the office.
Cherry leaned forward. ‘I know he’s alive,’ she whispered.
Laura stammered. ‘W-what are you talking about?’
‘What kind of mother are you, who would lie about her own child’s death?’
She felt the blood drain from her face, the self-loathing creep back in.
Cherry’s voice turned hard. ‘You tried to take everything away from me. I am going to do the same to you.’
Laura gaped. Cherry held her gaze for a moment, her eyes cold, unforgiving. Then when she was sure the message had been understood, she turned and walked away.
Trembling, Laura watched her go. She tried to pass it off as juvenile, a silly threat, but there was something in Cherry’s tone that had frightened her deeply. She instinctively knew that no matter how hard she tried, she wouldn’t be able to dismiss it. She’d be waiting. Waiting and wondering what was going to happen.
THIRTY-SIX
Tuesday 15 September
Cherry knew that if Laura had been just that little bit more generous with her information, had told her all those months ago about Daniel’s ashes going to France, phoned again to check she was OK and allowed her to ask which day he’d died, she’d never have called the hospital. Not the new hospital, of course – she hadn’t even known about that one. No, the Chelsea & Westminster, where he was supposed to have had the fatal heart attack. Wary of calling Laura for the missing links, the information she needed to move on with her life, she’d called the ward, but as she suspected, they refused to tell her anything as she wasn’t ‘next of kin’. Next came the wracking tears, then the claim that she didn’t know when he’d died because she’d been so traumatized by all the visits, by seeing him in a coma for so long, that she’d become ill herself and so had only found out through gossip that it might be the case. ‘Is he really dead?’ she’d wailed dramatically, and then had asked for access to the hospital bereavement services, which she knew they weren’t allowed to refuse. She also knew that once she was put through, she would get the information she needed, as how could they counsel the bereaved without knowing the where and when? Instead, she’d been astounded to hear that he hadn’t died at all (so the bereavement services were not available to her), but they wouldn’t tell her anything else.