She announced her departure as soon as was reasonable. Andrew said a perfunctory goodbye and she got 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 her to the door.
‘I wish you weren’t leaving so soon.’ She peered at her, noticed her tense mood. ‘You are OK, 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 are particularly great sentiments 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.
She left and got into the waiting cab that had been called for her. Her mood didn’t improve on the way home, and when she got in, she found Howard not there. She went up to the second floor, and seeing no light under his door, 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 got 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: 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 into him; he was her joy, a person she had 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, ride a bike. Encouraged him to debate, to have an opinion, stretched 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 email 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 the porter with strict instructions it was only to be handed to Daniel. She picked up her pen and started to write.
FORTY-THREE
Friday 2 October
It was his first day off, uninterrupted by the hospital or study, in what seemed 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, and 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 punt on the river, and Daniel watched as Cherry lay back, her eyes closed against the unexpectedly 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 was bathed in sunshine in such an inviting way 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. In fact, and the recent, uneasy thought popped into his head again, she 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 wasn’t 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 about 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 knew as soon as he called, she’d bring it up again. And then there was the nag, 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?’
‘Yes.’ He batted away a couple of midges, coming in too close to his face. ‘You?’
‘Saturday . . . Thought I’d have a lazy one. Watch a movie.’
‘And after that? I mean, the rest of the week?’ He’d tried to sound casual but saw her stiffen.
‘What do you mean?’
He pushed against the riverbed with the pole. ‘I just think it must be boring for you. Being in the flat all day.’
‘I’m not in it all day – I go out.’
‘Yes, but you were – are – always so ambitious. When you were at the estate agency.’ He smiled at her.
She was silent for a moment. ‘Do you think I’m sponging?’
‘No—’
‘Only, I can’t really pay you any rent at the moment. You know that.’
‘I don’t want you to—’
‘Bills are hard too.’
‘I know. It’s OK—’
‘But I do help out with groceries.’ She looked at him, her eyes defensive, hurt.
Daniel was squirming. He didn’t really want this dissection of their domestic life and was beginning to regret bringing up the subject.