A Walk in the Park (13 page)

In her head she'd been calling him the gardener but he had to be more of an odd-job man. From inside the shop, Evie watched as the blue van with Ellison's Hotel on the side pulled up in the yard. Odd-job, wearing a holey gray T-shirt and muddy khaki combats, lifted the bags out of the back and carried them in.

“Hi there.” He greeted her with the kind of cheery attitude that suggested his brain had been wiped clean since their last encounter. “Bringing back everything the Mannings hired for their party. They had to leave early this morning but they said to say thanks and the costumes were great.”

“Good. OK, I just need to check them.” Evie emptied the first bag onto the counter and began giving the outfits a quick but thorough once-over.

“Making sure there's no damage?” said Odd-job. “Does that often happen?”

“Not always accidentally. The other week a client tried to drop off a Marie Antoinette dress. All the buttons were missing.” Evie pulled a face. “She thought they were pretty so she cut them all off and hoped we wouldn't notice.”

“Tell me about it. We once caught a couple of guests smuggling a chest of drawers down the staircase at three in the morning.”

Evie smiled slightly. “Chest of drawers beats buttons.”

“Annoying all the same.” He had a direct gaze and an easy manner as if they were old friends. “Don't worry, I promise I haven't snipped any rhinestones off the Elvis jumpsuit.”

“Glad to hear it.”

“I managed to figure out where I'd seen you before, by the way.”

“Oh?” Bugger. Evie kept her head down and concentrated on examining the nun's habit; please don't let him start asking questions.

“You were the one in the wedding dress. In the car that was parked where it shouldn't have been.”

“Right.” She nodded.
Don't ask, don't ask.

“That's what fooled me, why I didn't make the connection. That big white flouncy wedding dress. Didn't recognize you in your normal clothes.”

“Mm.” Evie frowned at the left sleeve of the habit; subtlety clearly wasn't his strong point.

“So, can I ask you something?”

“Depends what it is.”

“Tell me to mind my own business if you want, but you aren't wearing any, you know, rings.” He nodded at her bare left hand. “Does that mean you're single?”

Evie marveled at his powers of diplomacy. What a cheek. She raised her head and stared at him. “Yes, it means I'm single.” Was he trying to work out whether she'd run off and left her husband just before the wedding or immediately after it?

Odd-job looked pleased. “Good. In that case I'm going to just come out and say it. How about dinner one night?”

For a split second the question made no sense at all. “Who with?”

He didn't falter. “With me.”

“But… why?” Honestly, some men were unbelievable. Evie was fairly sure she was gaping like a goldfish. The awkward silence was broken by Bonnie bursting into the shop carrying a tower of boxes and sporting a long black dangly mustache.

“Evie, look at these! They're the Fu Manchus I ordered last week!” She wiggled her nose like a rabbit and beamed at them both. “And the Ozzy Osbourne glasses have arrived, thank goodness, just in time for the Taylors' party.” She dumped the boxes on a chair and peeled off the Fu Manchu mustache. “These are very well made, you know. Only three pounds each!”

“I'll buy one.” Odd-job playfully addressed Evie. “I could wear it when we go out on our date.”

“Yes, you must! How funny… oh…” Bonnie's voice trailed away as she gazed at Evie. Mystified, she said, “Does he mean
you
? What's going on here that I don't know about?”

“I just asked Evie to have dinner with me. I'm hoping she's going to say yes.” His smile was wry. “Fingers crossed. She hasn't said anything yet.”

Bonnie was agog. “Goodness, I didn't realize, I had no idea! So sorry, I shouldn't have interrupted—”

“No, it's fine,” Evie blurted out. “I'm not going.” She turned back to Odd-job. “Thanks, but I really couldn't.”

“That's a shame.” He rubbed the back of his head resignedly. “Well, never mind. Am I allowed to ask why not?”

“To be honest, I can't believe you asked me. After the first time we met,” said Evie. “Considering the whole… you know, situation I was in.”

He looked baffled. So did Bonnie, who said, “Darling, call me a nosy old bat, but I'd love to know what you two are talking about.”

Evie hesitated, struggling to marshal her thoughts.

Odd-job stepped in. “It was a couple of weeks ago, there was a big photo shoot for an ad campaign over at the Ellison. Evie was one of the models and we chatted for a bit… oh God, have I said the wrong thing?” He glanced from Bonnie to Evie, taking in their stunned expressions. “I'm really sorry, I just assumed she'd know about the modeling job.”

Bonnie said in astonishment, “Evie? Modeling? I had no idea you'd been doing that!”

Odd-job was now shaking his head behind her, mouthing:
I'm so sorry.

“But don't worry,” Bonnie exclaimed, “there's no reason to be shy! I think it's
fantastic
, darling. Such a thrill! What kind of ad campaign is it?”

What indeed? Some clothing company, presumably, that sold the kind of glamorous dresses you'd wear on special occasions. Because it hadn't been a real wedding, it had been a photo shoot. And Emily Morris, the acquaintance she'd assumed to be a guest, was forever boasting that she was on the books of a modeling agency and had once appeared in a TV ad for toilet paper.

Which went some way toward explaining why Odd-job didn't think it was weird to invite someone out to dinner just a fortnight after seeing them in a wedding dress.

She still wasn't going to go, though.

“These are all fine.” Evie opened the till and handed him back the deposit. “OK, there you go. Thanks very much. Bye.”

He flashed her yet another look of apology and left the shop, just as his phone started to ring.

“Tell me everything!” demanded Bonnie the moment the door had swung shut behind him.

Outside, through the window, Odd-job was now facing away from them, talking into his mobile.

“I wasn't modeling. I was wearing my wedding dress. We just stopped off at the Ellison to pick up Lara's things before heading up to Keswick.”

“Ah, that's a shame. I did wonder why you hadn't happened to mention this fantastic new career.” Bonnie dismissed the reply with a flick of the hand, then said eagerly, “But he invited you to dinner!”

“I know. How embarrassing.”

“Not embarrassing at all. I think you should go.”

Evie stared at her. “Why?”

“Because—oh no, he's leaving, just say yes and I'll tell you afterward! Hang on, I'll bring him back…”

Oh God, this was typical Bonnie, acting on impulse whether you wanted her to or not. Outside, having finished his phone call, Odd-job was about to get into the van. Rocketing outside, Bonnie stopped him and launched into an earnest conversation; with a bit of luck he'd just shake his head, tell her that he wasn't desperate, and drive off.

But he evidently
was
that desperate, because he was now coming back into the shop. This time Bonnie waited outside.

“Look, I'm sorry,” Evie blurted out, “she gets these mad ideas into her head, you don't have to take any notice of her—”

“Hey, she insisted. And I always do as I'm told. Besides,” Odd-job sounded amused, “I like a challenge. Are you free tomorrow night?”

Bonnie was now watching her intently through the glass, nodding encouragement. Evie sighed and said, “Well…”

“That'll be a yes, then. Your boss already told me tomorrow's fine. Where would you like me to pick you up?”

“Nowhere. I mean, I'll meet you in town.”

“OK. How about outside Brown's at eight o'clock?”

“Fine.” She shrugged.

“Cheer up. You never know, you might end up enjoying yourself.”

“I might.” Evie didn't hold out much hope; she already wanted to strangle Bonnie.

“Good. I'm Ethan, by the way.”

“Hello, Ethan. Can I just apologize in advance, because you probably won't have much fun. It's only fair to warn you.”

“Like I said, I'm up for the challenge.” As he headed for the door, Ethan added playfully, “Just don't stand me up, will you?”

When he'd driven away, Evie said, “OK, now tell me why you made me do that.”

“Be-
cause
,” Bonnie launched into her therapist voice, “you know I want you and Joel to get back together. But he behaved like an idiot and cheated on you, and if you were to eventually forgive him and take him back, you'd always, deep down, resent what he did. But if you have a fling with someone else, you won't have to feel resentful anymore. That would make you equal!”

Evie briefly closed her eyes; talk about moving the goalposts. “You didn't say a fling, you said dinner. I really don't want a fling.”

“Dinner's a start. Honestly, it worked a treat for my friend Brenda. Her husband had an affair and she was in bits. She moved out of the house and they were heading for divorce. He was distraught and kicking himself, but she couldn't get over what he'd done—she just wanted to punish him and didn't know how. Then out of the blue she met this younger man at the gym and they had the most amazing affair… and it did the trick! She felt better, her husband felt worse, the balance was restored, and they saved their marriage!”

“Bonnie—”

“That was nine years ago, they're still together, and they're
happy
,” Bonnie emphasized. “I don't know why I didn't think of it before. It just came to me in a flash when this one said he'd asked you out. It's perfect!”

“But not very fair on him. What happened to the guy your friend met at the gym?”

“Darling, who knows? But he was a personal trainer with the body of a Greek god. I'm sure he didn't pine for too long. Anyway, you're going out on a date—wait till Joel gets to hear!” Evidently thrilled with her new plan, Bonnie said, “This is going to be just the kick up the backside he deserves.”

Evie frowned. “If that's why I'm doing it, wouldn't it be easier for me to just pretend I'm seeing someone else?” OK, this was crazy; she wasn't at all sure she even wanted Joel back. Game playing had never been her forte.

“Ah, but that's only a tiny bit of it.” Bonnie held her thumb and forefinger an inch apart. “The main point is that
you'd
know you were seeing someone else. If you're just pretending, how can that make you feel equal? You have to give Joel a taste of his own medicine!”

“You mean you want me to sleep with this… stranger from the Ellison Hotel? Because that's not going to happen.”

“You don't have to sleep with him. It's not compulsory. Just have a night out with another man.” Bonnie beamed encouragingly. “He seems nice enough. It could be fun, and it'll definitely teach Joel a lesson. What could be better than that?”

Honestly? A lazy evening in front of the TV with a bag of Lindor truffles and a box set of
The
Wire
would be a thousand times better.

But it was a bit late to say so now.

The flight from Barcelona had just landed on time. Bristol Airport was packed with travelers. Lara, having turned up early to be on the safe side, was drinking coffee and people-watching, one of her favorite pastimes. A married couple was getting emotional, preparing to be separated. The wife was hugely overweight, the husband superskinny, and they kept giving each other one last hug-and-kiss before he headed upstairs to Departures. At least, they were both wearing wedding rings; maybe they weren't married to each other.

Next, Lara turned her attention to a gaggle of girls off on a bachelorette weekend, exchanging saucy banter with a separate group of men setting out for a bachelor party. If they were all on the same flight it would be a rowdy one… and who knew which of them might end up sharing more than a plane.

Finally, a vignette that tugged at the heartstrings: a mother in her midfifties saying good-bye to her early-twenties backpacking son. Determinedly upbeat and cheerful, she stood at the foot of the escalator and waved as he called out, “Bye, Mum, see you next year!” Only when he'd disappeared from view did she turn away and allow her composure to crumple, the tears spilling down her face.

Oh God, poor woman. Lara felt a lump expand in her own throat; saying good-bye to your children had to be the hardest thing in the world. It was going to be bad enough when Gigi left to go to university… OK, don't think about that now. She finished her coffee and headed over to Arrivals; it was time for the travelers from Barcelona to start filtering through the gate.

She didn't have long to wait. With only a carry-on bag and no reason to wait at baggage claim, Jo Finnegan was one of the first to appear. Lara recognized her at once from the photo on her blog and waved to attract her attention.

“My goodness, look at you!” Jo greeted her with a warm hug. “Little Lara, all grown up!”

It was an oddly emotional moment. She didn't know many people who'd known her mum. Lara felt a surreal urge to plug Jo into a computer and download every last memory she had.

“It's lovely to see you. Thanks so much for changing your plans.”

“My pleasure. I've always been the impatient type. Now, let me take a proper look at you…”

Lara did the same. Jo Finnegan was browner and wrinklier in the flesh, and she was sporting bright coral lipstick today. Her earrings were again huge and dangly, her faded brown hair haphazardly pinned back. She was wearing a purple linen shirt and matching loose linen trousers, with dusty leather sandals on her feet.

“I can see your mum in you,” Jo pronounced with satisfaction.

“I know.” Lara loved being able to pick out the similarities in the few photographs she had of her mother: the tilt of the chin, the line of the eyebrows, the same legs.

“And your father. Is he… well?”

There had definitely been a moment of hesitation. “He died a few weeks ago.”

“Oh, I'm sorry.”

“No need. I'm not.”

They exchanged a long look, signaling mutual understanding. Lara felt a swizzle of excitement in her stomach.

“Oh, my darling girl.” Jo reached for her hands and clasped them warmly. “We have so much to talk about.”

The swizzles ramped up to the next level. This was so thrilling.
There
was
definitely
something
here
to
find
out.

***

Some conversations you simply couldn't have while you were driving a car. During the journey back to Bath they chatted instead about Jo's time in Spain. Happily divorced nowadays and working as a potter, she had made many friends and adapted well to life in a mountain village, although regular trips back to visit her aged parents meant she didn't miss out on such vital aspects of British life as Marks & Spencer and Marmite.

As they approached Bath, Jo said, “Do me a favor, will you? Be a darling and pull in at the next rest area. I just love the view from here over the city.”

Spooky coincidence or what? Lara did as she asked and switched off the ignition. “It's my favorite place too. When I came back for the first time after eighteen years, I stopped at this exact spot to show my daughter where I used to live.”

“You have a daughter?” Jo looked pleased. “That's lovely. How old?”

“Eighteen.”

“Oh my goodness! Really? But that means…”

Lara opened the driver's door and said, “Yes, it does.”

They sat together on the grassy slope below the pull off, drinking in the view. Lara told Jo the story of how she'd come to leave Bath. Jo listened without interrupting once.

“So that's it,” Lara concluded several minutes later. “Everything worked out fine. It could have been a disaster but it wasn't. Gigi's perfect. And now she's getting to know Flynn… all in all, the last few weeks have been pretty eventful.” She paused, then tilted her head. “But you can see why I said what I did about my father. It sounds awful to say I'm not sorry he died, but it's the truth. I don't think he ever liked me and I could never understand why. Then there was the will-reading in the lawyer's office and I found out the house had never been his, it had been bought in my mum's name. But how could that happen? Where did the money come from? And was this why he hated me, or was there some other reason…?”

Jo had been watching her intently. “If you're asking me if he was really your father, the answer is I don't know.”

“Right.” Lara was sitting with her arms wrapped around her knees. She was squeezing so hard her knuckles had turned white.
Damn
.

“But I do know there was a… friendship. With another man.”

Yes!
Yes
yes
yes!
Tears of joy sprang without warning into Lara's eyes. It had to be that; it explained everything. Her father had hated her because he knew he wasn't her father. It made perfect sense. Thank you, God.

“Who was he? Did you know him?”
Go
on, say yes, tell me all about my mother's secret lover… no, stop it, don't shake your head…

But Jo said with regret, “Sorry, no I didn't. It was before I met your mum. She told me about him, though. I'll tell you as much as I know. His name was James.”

James. That was a nice name, a good name for a father to have. James? Are you my father? God, I really hope so.

“James who?” said Lara, but Jo was already shaking her head again. Life was never that simple, was it?

“No idea. Your mum never mentioned his surname. Or showed me a photograph. She met him a couple of years before you were born.” Jo paused for a moment to gently bat away a hovering dragonfly. “He was married.”

“Oh.”

“And he'd been married and divorced before that.”

“Ah.”

“Well, quite. Back in those days that was a pretty racy history. He was wealthy too. Some kind of successful businessman, but don't ask me what kind of business—I haven't a clue. The marriage wasn't a happy one, apparently. He was in love with your mother. Well, he told her he loved her.”

“What does that mean? She didn't believe him?”

“She wanted to. But from what she said, she didn't know if she could completely trust him. He'd been married, divorced, married again… I got the impression your mum was afraid he might be the type who just got bored easily.”

Lara's fingers were cramping. She unclenched her knuckles and gazed out over Bath, with its curving streets of higgledy-piggledy biscuit-shaded houses. There, just down there to the right, was her own home. Had James paid for it? If he had, surely that must mean he was her father?

“Are you OK?”

She nodded at Jo. “I'm fine. This is all good news. Frustrating, but good. Anything that means my father might not be my father is brilliant. Look, I know you don't know, but do you think it could have been James?”

“Oh, darling, who can say? Your mum never said he was. It wasn't the kind of question I felt I could ask. This may sound unbelievably old-fashioned, but we didn't talk about sex so much in those days. It really wasn't the hot topic it is now. Maybe if we'd been friends since childhood I might have done, but we weren't, we just got to know each other because I worked in the café near your school and we hit it off from there. That was when you were nine or ten. Your mum used to come in for a cup of tea. She'd hear me moaning about my useless husband. Then when I had to take our dog for a walk after work, she'd join me. Maybe it was that neither of us had happy marriages. It can be a bonding thing, you know? Nice to have someone else going through a miserable time. Your father sounded like the domineering type.”

Jo glanced at her for confirmation and Lara nodded. “Yes, he was.”

“I only went to your house once. He made it clear I wasn't welcome.”

“He hated visitors.” Theirs had been a silent home, singularly lacking in laughter whenever the three of them had been in it together. Lara felt sickened by the memory of it. Back then, she hadn't realized the extent of her father's controlling behavior, simply because she'd had nothing to compare it with. Nowadays it made her shudder. And how proud she'd been when Gigi, without any prompting from her, had recognized the wrongness of her last boyfriend's attitude toward her. Good-looking he might have been, but as soon as he'd started criticizing her choice of clothes and tried to stop her seeing her friends, Gigi had called him a loser and calmly ended the relationship.

Why couldn't her mum have done the same? Lara's jaw tightened. It was a question that had haunted her for years.

“What are you thinking?” said Jo.

“Just wondering why she didn't leave him. Our lives could have been so different.”

“Your mum knew that. The problem was, she was worried it might turn out to be the wrong thing to do. Your lives could have turned out better, but what if they'd turned out worse?”

Lara exhaled. “How could it have been worse?”

“In her eyes it was possible. She used to say, ‘At least he doesn't hit me, he's
never
hit me.' And she was filled with guilt about James. I think she felt she deserved to be punished for that. Almost as if Charles was entitled to make her life miserable. Oh, who can say what it was like for her? Bullies undermine their partners' confidence. Who knows what he might have threatened her with?”

“I know.” Lara had been over it all in her head a million times. “She did what she thought was best.”

“For the two of you.”

“Oh God, I want to find James.” She threw herself back on the grass and watched the tiny clouds scudding across the sky.

“I don't know how you can,” said Jo.

“I found you. Well, Flynn did. There must be a way.”

“Did she have any other friends you can ask?”

“No, I wondered if you'd know anyone.”

Jo shook her head. “I don't, darling. I'm sorry.”

Lara gazed up at the vapor trails crisscrossing overhead. Where were those planes headed? Who were the passengers flying in them? They could contain anyone, be going anywhere. One of those passengers might know James. Or
be
him.

That was the thing, you just never knew.

“You've done well for yourself,” said Jo. “You're living a good life. Your mum would be so proud if she could see you now.”

“Thanks.” It was lovely of Jo to say it and Lara was grateful to her. But she was only hearing half the story and it was no longer enough.