The white of his eyes expand. ‘What?’
‘Ava’s pregnant.’
I see the laughter bubbling up from his toes and wait for it to work its way to his mouth and shake the whole damn club. But he doesn’t laugh. Somehow, he contains it, though I see his amusement plain as day. ‘Was it planned?’
I chuck a pen across the desk at him. ‘Stupid fucking question, John. What sane fifty-year-old bloke would volunteer for that, for fuck’s sake?’
His huge shoulders jump up casually. ‘I would have, had the opportunity passed me by.’
That shuts me up. And makes me shrink. I’ve never asked John about his past, and he’s never volunteered it. Something inside me, maybe caution, just warned me not to. I’ve often wondered if he’d wanted children if he found the right woman. And he’s just answered that. I shouldn’t be surprised. He’s great with the twins, always has been. Like an adopted pap, in a way. ‘Was there ever a Mrs John?’ I ask him.
He smiles his big white-toothed smile with his signature hint of gold. ‘What’s taken you so long to ask, boy?’
I inwardly laugh. ‘Maybe the hostile vibes I get any time I’ve ever even thought to pry.’
‘There was one woman once upon a time.’ He shrugs, like it’s nothing. It most certainly isn’t nothing.
I lean forward in my chair, intrigued. ‘Really? Who?’
He eyes me for a few moments, clearly wondering whether he should spill. ‘It doesn’t matter now. It’s dead. History.’ Clearly he’s decided against it.
I sigh, mentally plotting my advances, how I can coax the information from him. ‘Before I knew you?’
His glare is deadly. ‘Drop it.’
‘What if I don’t?’
‘Face the consequences.’
‘Which are what?’
‘Rein it in, you relentless motherfucker,’ he warns, the threat in his tone no joke, but something tells me that he really wants to share. Yet I do as I’m told, even if my mind is spinning, rewinding through the years, all the way back to when my uncle took me under his wing. John was there then, my uncle’s best friend. In fact, he’s always just been . . . there. I hum to myself, racking my brain. I know her. That’s why he’s being cagey and reluctant.
I flick through all the women who used to frequent The Manor on a regular basis as we stare at each other, for what seems like years, his eyes dark, mine curious. And then he draws breath to speak. ‘Falling in love with your best mate’s girl isn’t ideal.’ His eyes don’t move from mine.
His best mate’s girl? Uncle Carmichael was his best . . .
Realisation slams into me like a giant wrecking ball to my gut. ‘Sarah?’ I blurt, my heart taking the second shock of the day, except this one is no sick prank. He nods his confirmation. Fuck me. Sarah?
How has he kept that hidden all this time? ‘John, I don’t know what to say.’ He watched it all, close by, Sarah, me, and Uncle Carmichael, the wretched love triangle and all the tragedy that went with it. And the years that followed, Sarah constantly pining for me, going to epic lengths to try to win me. How did he do that? Face it? Endure it?
‘Say nothing and move on,’ he warns, obviously watching my mind go into overdrive.
All this time he’s been in love with Sarah? And I never knew? Never saw it? ‘How can you love someone who’s so destructive?’ I ask, baffled.
He looks at me like I’m stupid. ‘Ask your wife.’
I wilt where I sit, going over and over the years, searching for any clues that I missed. Now, I realise there were millions. His calmness with her. His occasional attempts to defend her actions. His anger when she lost the plot all those times. He wasn’t entirely mad with her for what she was doing to me. But what she was doing to herself, too.
‘You can’t help someone who doesn’t want to be helped,’ he says, strangely reminiscent. ‘You wanted to be helped.’
‘Shit, John,’ I breathe, throwing my hands up a little. Then something comes to me. She’s staying with him, has been for weeks. ‘Why would you set yourself up like that, and what the hell does Elsie think? Wait, what does Sarah think? Does she know how you feel?’
‘How I felt. And no, she didn’t and doesn’t. Neither did your uncle. You think I wanted to add to the fuck-up that was you, her and him? And I stopped loving her when she stopped loving herself. And the reason she’s staying with me is because she can do me less damage than she can do you.’
‘I—’
‘You’ll keep this to yourself.’ John’s tone is as threatening as threatening can be as he gets up from his seat. ‘It’s history.’
‘Of course.’ He doesn’t need to tell me twice. ‘What about Sarah? How long is she staying with you?’
‘Until she’s back on her feet.’
The man is a saint in disguise. ‘And what about Elsie?’
‘She has some holistic therapy shit she wants to try on Sarah.’ He looks back, rolling his eyes. ‘Who knows? Might straighten her out.’
The door closes behind him, and I sit there alone in the silent room for a long time, trying to get to grips with this news. The truth is, I can’t. No matter how long I try to wrap my mind around it. So many years to be assessed, too many occasions in history to be analysed to find what I’m looking for. I won’t find anything. John did too good a job of hiding his feelings from Sarah and the rest of the world. He’s put himself at the bottom of the pile every time. It isn’t right. Pulling out my phone, I find the number I blocked, unblock it, and dial, and the moment I hear her voice, my skin prickles and I’m out of my chair, pacing the office.
‘You need to leave town, Sarah,’ I say bluntly.
‘Jesse?’
‘Yes. You need to leave.’
There’s a pause, and then a sigh. ‘How’s Ava?’
‘I didn’t call you to chit-chat about my wife. I called you to tell you to leave town.’
‘I can’t go anywhere, Jesse. I’m broke.’
My feet drag to a stop as I recall John telling me the same thing. She has nowhere to go. Nowhere to stay. So she’s putting on John, and John will never say no. ‘Send me your account details,’ I order. ‘I’ll transfer some money, and then you leave. Do you hear me?’ John’s waited decades to meet a woman. Now he’s met one, and I’m not having this poisonous bitch ruining what could be his happy-ever-after. ‘Do you hear me?’
‘I hear you,’ she whispers, her lack of argument maddening. Because she’s that selfish. She doesn’t care about John. Or me. She cares about herself.
‘I’ll do it now. Send me your details.’ I hang up, and in the two paces it takes me to get back to Ava’s desk to log on to my banking, her details land on my phone. I laugh a disbelieving laugh. She didn’t waste time. A few clicks sends a clean hundred grand her way. We didn’t talk numbers, but I want her to have enough to ensure she’ll never have to come back. Resting back in my chair, I stare at the screen as I kiss goodbye to the best money I’ve ever spent.
My phone buzzes on the desk, and I glance down to see two missed calls from Ava. Heart in my throat, I go to dial her back but notice a voicemail alert.
I click the icon and bring my mobile to my ear to listen to her message. ‘I’ve tried calling you twice and you’re ignoring me,’ she says. ‘I’m still with Zara. I’ve had a lovely time! We popped to a store and bought her a new dress for a date she has tonight. We couldn’t find shoes, but I have the perfect pair, so we’re going to pick up the kids and head back. She’s driving, so don’t panic. I’ll meet you at home.’