Promises to Keep (16 page)

“I’ve been thinking . . .” Ed says, gazing at Lila.

“Yes?” she says, looking up at him, wondering what he’s going to say.

“How do you feel about children?”

“I think they’re perfectly fine as long as they belong to other people. Although I adore Clay. He’s not really a child, though. He’s a twenty-year-old trapped in a nine-year-old’s body. Why?” She peers at him. “Is that what you’re asking or are you asking something far more specific?”

Ed laughs. “A little more specific. I was just wondering whether you had thought of having your own.”

“Thought about it, yes. A long time ago. A very long time ago. I thought about it and concluded the answer was no.” Lila squints at Ed, thinking. “Is this some convoluted way of trying to tell me you want me to bear your children?”

And Ed, much to her surprise, blushes.

“Oh God!” she blusters, kicking her legs off his lap and sitting up. “I was kidding. Oh Ed. What is this? What are you asking?” Her voice is now gentle as she takes his hand and looks him in the eye.

“I don’t even know,” he says. “It’s just . . . I suppose I always thought I would have a big family. I grew up as an only child, and I hated it. I determined that when I grew up, I would have three or four children, and probably raise them on a wonderful old farm in the country, and have this idyllic family that was filled with love and laughter.”

“Because your own childhood wasn’t?” Lila asks softly.

“It was, to a point,” Ed says. “But it was very . . . ordered. Orderly. My parents treated me as something precious. They took me to concerts, and art galleries, and the theater. I learned how to discuss the merits of Picasso, the merits of the Bach symphonies, but all I really wanted was to live with the Campbells.”

“The Campbells?”

“They lived at the end of our road. Four children, three boys and a girl, and their house backed onto a big playing field. All the neighborhood kids would be at their house all the time, or in the fields behind, but Mrs. Campbell always made a huge cake for tea, and enough food to serve an army, and I just remember how much I wanted the chaos. Everyone was always welcome there, and because there were so many kids I think she just got used to other children joining the group.”

“I bet they never went to art galleries and museums, though.” Lila smiles.

“I don’t think they did, but their house was always fun. Lots of noise, delicious smells, animals everywhere.”

“Animals?”

“They had two red setters, a couple of cats, and there were usually small rodent-like creatures around the rest of the house. Anna had a rabbit called Timmy who thought he was a cat, and the boys had hamsters and guinea pigs. Oh, apart from Roger, who had an iguana.”

Ed smiles at the memory before continuing.

“But it felt like the family I should have had. I used to walk past every day praying that someone would see me, or that the kids would be outside, because I was always too self-conscious to just knock on the door. And that’s what I always thought I would have. A house filled with children, and animals. I thought I’d have it with Mindy, until . . . well . . . until I realized she was a complete nutcase. And then I just spent years miserably trying to leave.”

“I still don’t understand. Why didn’t you leave sooner?”

“I tried so many times. But every time there’d be another crisis, another drama. She’d be desperately sick, or something would happen with her family, or she’d just make me feel guilty. And it worked. How could I leave my wife and small child? It was unthinkable.”

“Of course it was. Because you’re a knight in shining armor and you thought your job was to rescue everyone.”

“God, you’re so American.” He grins.

“It’s true though.”

Ed shrugs. “Maybe. The point is, I thought I’d have tons of children. And now I have Clay, whom I love more than anything in the whole world, and I was honestly resigned to having just one perfect child. There was no way I was having another child with Mindy, and I had accepted that this was clearly my fate; it just hadn’t turned out the way I had always thought.”

“And . . . now?”

“Well . . . that’s the thing. Whenever I thought about having another child when I was married to Mindy, the thought filled me with abject horror. But now, with you, I realize that for the first time in years I can see me having another child. I can see us having a child.”

Lila looks away for a second, unable to bear the softness in Ed’s eyes, and when she looks back her own eyes have filled up.

“Oh Ed. I wish I had met you years ago. I wish I had met you when I was thirty-two, not forty-two. I’m not going to pretend I haven’t thought about it, thought about how miraculous it would be to have a baby with the man I love, to create a person out of this extraordinary love we have for each other, but . . . I’m forty-two, Ed. First, I think it’s unlikely that I would even get pregnant. And second, I don’t want children, Ed. Not now.”

Ed cannot hide the sadness in his eyes as Lila talks.

“I love my life. I love you. I love living here. I’m too old, and too selfish, and too set in my ways to have children. And I see how hard it is. At thirty-two I might have been under some illusion that raising children was easy, that they would be these gloriously adorable appendages I could dress in cute clothes from Gap who would accessorize me perfectly. But I haven’t got the energy. Nor the inclination. Which doesn’t mean I love you any the less. It just means I think my time has passed.”

Ed nods, considering all that she has said. “I’m not trying to change your mind,” he says finally, “but can we at least continue the conversation about it?”

“Yes, my darling.” She smiles, drawing him close for a kiss. “This is why I love you. Because you leave no bridge burned, no stone unturned. Yes, we can continue the conversation about it, but I must warn you I will not be changing my mind.”

“As long as you’re willing to keep talking about it, that’s all I ask.”

“Have I ever told you how much I love you?” Lila places a hand on each of his cheeks and looks him in the eye, her nose inches from his.

“Not half as much,” he says very seriously, “as I love you.”

 

 

“A
re you
sure
you’re not having an affair with him? Oh shit, hang on.” Callie drops the phone into her lap as she drives past the policeman, shooting him a big smile. “Hang on,” she shouts, “police alert.” She picks up the phone again after she rounds the corner. “Sorry, I’m in the car.”

“I figured. Where’s your Bluetooth thing?”

“I lost it again.”

“Another one?” Steffi laughs. “Callie, you’re as bad as me. How many have you lost in the past year?”

“Only four. Don’t try to change the subject. So this guy, Mason. Rich wife. Sounds like a bitch. Clearly interested in you.”

“No. Not clearly interested in me at all. Why do you always have to be so suspicious?”

“Because it’s just weird. I understand him wanting you to dogsit, particularly because he can clearly see your bleeding heart, but then offering you his house in Sleepy Hollow? For free? He must get a fortune renting that. I just don’t understand why he would give you his house unless you were secretly having sex with him and not telling me because I’m your older wiser sister and I would disapprove massively.”

Steffi splutters indignantly. “First of all, I would not have an affair with a married man. Ever. And second, have I ever kept secrets from you?”

“Yes.”

“I have not! When?”

“When you last had an affair with a married man.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“That artist you had a thing with. Paul something. Remember? You definitely weren’t honest with me, and you never told me he was married until afterward. So, wrong on both counts. You have had an affair with a married man, and you kept it a secret from me.”

“Jesus, Callie. It doesn’t count if you didn’t
know
. I had no idea he was married until we’d been dating for six weeks.”

“How do you not know someone’s married?”

“Because he kept his wife out in Woodstock and told her he was in New York painting at his studio all week, and he told me he was painting in his studio in Woodstock on the weekends and he had no phone because he couldn’t be disturbed, it would ruin his creativity.”

“And you really believed that?”

“Yes! It sounded totally credible at the time. I swear, if I’d had the slightest idea that he was married I would have had nothing to do with him. And that was the only time, and it doesn’t count because I really didn’t know.”

“So what about Mason, then? Do you find him attractive? Come on, be honest. Because I think there’s something you’re not telling me.”

“I really don’t. No, that’s not true. I think he’s a great guy, and there’s something about him that is attractive, but I swear to you, Cal, on my life, I am not physically attracted to him, and I am not, nor ever will be, having an affair with him. Honestly, we just like each other. As friends. His wife seems to be a bit of a bitch, and I think he comes into the restaurant because he feels comfortable with me. He can talk to me.”

“So how come he’s giving you the house?”

“He’s not giving it to me. It’s . . . payment, I guess, in return for looking after Fingal. And Callie, these people do not need the money. Whatever they get for renting the house, they can live without. This apartment was like nothing I’ve ever seen. She’s a Bedale, and worth gazillions. Money isn’t an issue.”

“So when are you going to see the house?”

“I think this weekend.”

“Tell me you’re not driving down together, because then I’d get suspicious again.”

“We’re not driving down together, okay? Actually, we’re really not. He said he’s going down this week to make sure it’s all cleaned up, and I’m going to hop on the train on Saturday.”

“So if you like it, when do you move in?”

“I’m sleeping in Susie’s spare room right now, so I’m kind of hoping I can just stay from Saturday.”

“Did you tell Mason that?”

“Nah, but I think he’ll be cool with it. I’ve got hardly any stuff so I’ll take a big bag, and I can always come back up and get the rest of my things once I’ve settled in.”

Callie laughs. “I can’t believe you’re doing this. Again.”

“What? Changing my life?”

“Yes. In a way I’m kind of jealous. You’re such an adventurer.”

“You’re kidding, right? You? Jealous of me? Callie Perry! You have an enviable life! Not only are you beautiful and brilliant, your husband is creative, talented and gorgeous, you have the perfect kids, you live in an amazing house, and you are loved by everyone who knows you. You have an incredible career as a photographer, and I would swap lives with you in a heartbeat.”

“Are you trying to tell me you would sleep with my husband?” Callie asks suspiciously.

“Wha—? Yes! Yes, I would! Okay? Happy now?”

“No . . . Oh Christ!” Callie yelps, looking at the clock on the dashboard. “Speaking of photography, I’m supposed to be shooting someone now.”

“Now?”

“Fifteen minutes ago. Oh my God, I can’t believe I forgot. I love you, Steff,” she shouts as she clicks off the phone.

“Love you too,” Steffi says, to nobody at all.

“W
ha—?” Steffi, head thumping, attempts to open one eye as Susie stands over her proffering a mobile phone.

“Honey? Your phone kept ringing so eventually I answered it. It’s your mom.”

Reaching out a reluctant arm, Steffi brings the phone to her ear. One eye is half open, the other very definitely closed.

“Mom?”

“Darling?” Honor’s voice is loud and clear, too loud for Steffi, who winces. “You sound terrible. What on earth’s the matter? Are you sick?”

“Just a late night,” Steffi says, thinking it best not to mention the copious amounts of drink that accompanied the late night. Oh God. And the man. What was his name? Luke. What on earth happened to him? She turns over and checks the other side of the bed. No sign of him. She could have sworn he slept over.

“So what time should we pick you up?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Darling, I spoke to you last night, remember? Callie’s photo shoot is canceled so we’re going to come into the city to pick you up and bring you back here.”

“Oh GOD!” Steffi sits bolt upright in bed. “I’d forgotten entirely. Jesus. What time is it?”

“Eight-thirty.”

“Eight-thirty? Mom! I thought it was eleven. I’m going back to sleep. We’re not meeting Mason at the house until three so we can leave here at two. I’ll see you later . . .”

“Steffi Tollemache! We will not come at two. We will be there to pick you up at eleven, and we will find somewhere lovely to have lunch. It’s not often I get to spend the day with my two daughters, and I do intend to make this the whole day. No discussion. See you soon. I love you.”

Steffi groans as the phone clicks, then throws the mobile to the other side of the room.

“Suse?” she yells. “Suse?” No sign of her, so Steffi throws back the covers and goes into the living room—hair tousled, eyes still half closed, wearing a man’s pair of boxer shorts and oversize T-shirt that she somehow must have got from somewhere at some point during the night.