A Walk in the Park (28 page)

The lights were on in the flat. Joel was at home. Which was lucky, seeing as she'd tried to call him but his phone was switched off.

Anyway, she was here now. About to press the intercom, Evie stepped back as the front door opened and the bearded man from the top flat emerged. Recognizing her, he held the door open and let her in on the way out.

“Who is it?” called Joel a few seconds after she knocked on his door on the second floor.

Evie knew him too well; assuming it could only be one of the other residents, he would open the door anyway. She waited and sure enough heard the lock turn.

“Oh.” Joel looked as if he'd just run headlong into an electric fence. “What's this? I thought you were working.”

In that moment she knew.

“The party was canceled. I thought I'd surprise you.”

“Brilliant! I was just on my way out! Give me two minutes and I'll meet you downstairs… we'll go for a drink and you can tell me what happened.”

Evie struggled to keep a straight face. He was wearing a dark blue terry cloth robe. “Can't I come in?”

“Seriously, I'd be embarrassed. The place is a pit, the cleaner didn't bother to turn up…”

“Didn't she? But that's OK, I can give you a hand with the tidying up!”

“No, no, I couldn't let you do that.” Joel shook his head, winced with pain, and pressed the flat of his hand against his abdomen. “Look, to be honest I haven't been feeling too well…”

“Oh no, poor you,” Evie exclaimed. “I tell you what, why don't I go home and leave you in peace? Maybe you'll feel better tomorrow.”

His expression cleared. “That makes sense. It's probably just one of those twenty-four-hour bugs. Yes, let's do that.”

“OK.” Evie nodded in agreement. “And then we won't have to deal with that embarrassing situation where you've got someone else here but you're trying really hard to hide it.”

“I… I…”

“Don't know what to say?” suggested Evie. “Can't work out how to wriggle out of this? I know, it's an awkward one.” She paused. “Oh well, never mind. If it's any comfort, the reason I came over was to tell you we weren't going to be getting back together. So no need to feel too guilty. In a way, this is probably a good thing to happen. At least now I know I made the right decision.”

“Oh shit.” Joel closed his eyes briefly. “I'm so sorry. I didn't mean this to happen.”

“I know. You never do. Who is she, by the way? Anyone I know?”

He avoided her gaze. Which meant yes. Evie said, “It doesn't matter, I'm not planning on bursting into tears.”

“All the same, I'd rather not say.”

“Have you been seeing her for long? Is it one of the girls from the wine bar?” Evie watched his reaction. “Does she know you had sex with me last night?”

Joel flinched, just slightly, and mouthed
no
while shaking his head. Evidently having been eavesdropping from the bedroom, Emily Morris promptly appeared in the hallway behind him; tall, blonde, and bare-legged, she'd at least had the decency to throw on a dress.

“Are you serious? You and Joel?” She was hyperventilating with indignation. “You two slept together
last
night
?”

“I know,” said Evie. “Shocking, isn't it?”

“But… but… you bastard!” Outraged, Emily confronted Joel. “You told me she'd begged you for sex and you turned her down! You told me I was the only one!”

“Brace yourself. This is pretty earth-shattering.” Evie almost felt sorry for her. “He lied.”

***

This time she did have to call a taxi to take her home. Thankfully the driver wasn't a chatty one. Evie sat in the back and knew she'd made the right decision. The realization had struck her at lunchtime, in the center of Bath, just after she'd picked up a coffee and a sandwich from Caffè Nero. Waiting for a gap in the traffic in order to race across Milsom Street, her stomach had disappeared as she recognized the white van slowing in front of her.

The next moment she saw Ethan behind the wheel, indicating with a raised finger that she should cross in front of him. Then, belatedly realizing it was her, he broke into a smile and turned the hand gesture into a tentative wave. Terrified she might start to blush, Evie pretended she hadn't seen him and hurried across the street in front of the van. Reaching the other side she heard him buzz down the window and call out, “Evie!”

Don't turn, don't react, just keep on walking as if you haven't noticed… you can't hear him, you can't hear him…

But once she'd reached Queen Square, Evie sank down onto a wooden bench and discovered she was trembling. Ethan McEnery had inadvertently revealed his true colors; he'd turned out not to be the man she'd thought he was. But she still hadn't been able to forget the way he'd made her feel before she'd found that out. He may lack Joel's looks and glamour but being with him had just felt so… right. It had been like unexpectedly stumbling upon the missing piece of jigsaw you'd been searching for for years.

That was the sensation she hadn't been able to dismiss. It was also what had made her mind up about Joel. OK, so maybe neither of them was the right man for her, but there had to be someone else out there capable of making her feel complete.

Also, capable of
not
being charming on the surface but rotten underneath.

The taxi reached Arlington Road. Letting herself into the house, Evie found Lara in the kitchen with Jacqueline Cumiskey from next door. There was an almost empty bottle of red on the table between them.

“Hey, you're early. Come and sit down.” Lara waved her over, pulling out another chair. “There's plenty more wine. Jacqueline popped round to ask if we'd sponsor her; she's doing a parachute jump for charity.”

“Hey, that's brilliant. Definitely.” Evie fetched herself a glass.

Jacqueline beamed. “Ah, thanks.”

“She came over two hours ago,” said Lara. “We've been sitting here yakking ever since. About men, mainly.”

“And pedicures,” said Jacqueline.

“And mascara.”

“And vacations.”

“And leaping out of planes with only a flimsy bit of material to keep you alive, and what happens if you crash into a bird on the way down. But mainly,” Lara concluded, “we've been yakking about men.”

Jacqueline shook her head. “They're a mystery.”

“You're telling me.” Lara opened another bottle of Rioja.

“I slept with Joel last night,” said Evie.

Lara's eyes widened. “Are you serious?”

“Just to remind myself what it was like. For fun, really. He kept saying he wanted us to get back together.”

“Blimey,” said Lara. “And?”

“It was fun! But he thought it meant we were a couple again, and I didn't want that. I went over there this evening to tell him,” Evie went on, “and guess what? He was in bed with another woman.”

“Bastard!” Lara was indignant on her behalf. “Are you upset?”

“No, I'm glad. I did the right thing.” It felt fantastic to say it. Evie felt her whole body relax.

“Joel.” Jacqueline was frowning. “Is he the one I gave a lift home a while back? When he was drunk and you couldn't get hold of a taxi?”

“That's the one,” Evie agreed. “Basically, he's never going to change. He just doesn't know how not to flirt.”

Jacqueline's dark eyes were bright, her cheeks flushed. “He did it with me that day. Made quite a pass, actually. Told me I was the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen and begged me to go with him into his flat. I
didn't
,” she added hastily. “But, you know, he was incredibly charming and persuasive. I did get the impression it was the kind of thing he probably did rather a lot.”

Was this how a bird would feel upon being unexpectedly released from a cage? Evie sat back and smiled. “I think you're probably right.”

“Cheers,” said Flynn. “This is more like it, don't you think?”

“Absolutely. More like what?” Lara raised her glass of champagne so he could clink his own against it.

His smile was playful. “You and me, out together. No more funny business with me trying to win you over and you forever turning me down. All that stupid stuff's behind us now. We can just relax, have fun, and be friends. It's great. I love it.” He did another celebratory glass clink. “Here's to us. And a brilliant Christmas.”

He actually meant it.

“Us,” said Lara. “And Christmas.”

Be
careful
what
you
wish
for…

It was the first week in December, Thursday evening, and frosty outside. The city's famous Christmas market was in full swing, wooden chalets lining the cobbled streets around the illuminated abbey. Lights and decorations danced in the trees and the air was filled with the scents of mince pies, spiced cakes, and mulled wine. Carols were playing and school children were singing, reveling in the festive atmosphere. Enchanted by the scenes, tourists were recording them on their video cameras for posterity.

Sitting inside the bar gazing out at the bustling crowds was a lot warmer. After two hours of concentrated shopping, Lara was ready for the break. It had been Flynn's idea that they should go together to buy presents for Gigi.

“It's my first year,” he'd explained. “I want to get it right. You have to tell me if I try to buy something you know she'd hate.”

Which made sense, and also meant they wouldn't end up getting Gigi the same things. But what Lara hadn't counted on was being expected to act as personal shopping adviser when it came to other people's presents too.

Specifically, his new girlfriend Annabel.

But to object would have seemed churlish, so she'd been forced to go along with it like a good sport. When Flynn had finished choosing a pair of brown leather boots for Gigi in Russell and Bromley, he'd turned his attention to the crystal-embellished spiky-heeled shoes. “OK, this is where you can help me out.” He held up two different styles. “Which would Annabel prefer?”

They were both stunning, obviously. Lara, who had never owned a pair of shoes from Russell and Bromley, quelled the urge to suggest Annabel might like a nice pair of sheepskin slippers instead and said truthfully, “The ones with the bows on the back.”

And Flynn had bought the amazing shoes for Annabel. Having done his homework, he knew she was a size three.
Imagine, a three
.

The various bags of shopping were now stacked up beneath their table. Once he'd started, he hadn't hung around. Gigi would be thrilled when she saw what he'd bought her for Christmas, as would Annabel. Flynn wasn't afraid to spend a bit of money and Lara hadn't tried to stop him; it was his to spend as he liked. Although having to try on the butter-soft honey-beige suede coat by Armani had been a low point. Having ascertained that, yes, it
would
look fantastic on Annabel, Flynn had helped her out of the size ten and told the sales assistant he'd like to buy one in a size four.

Anyway, never mind that now. Here they were, Gigi's parents, drinking champagne like actual grown-ups and enjoying a break in their Christmas shopping trip. Anyone watching them might assume they were a couple, which just went to show. Appearances could be deceptive.

“I can't wait, I can't even believe I'm saying it, but this is actually going to be the best Christmas ever!”

The voice was familiar but not instantly recognizable. Casting a surreptitious sidelong glance at the two women at the next table, Lara winced as she realized who it belonged to. Oh help, Betsy Barrowman, the sweet but deluded woman who thought she had the best husband in the world
and
a near-flawless four-carat diamond on her finger.

“You look better.” Betsy's friend was speaking now. “Happier. How's the cottage coming along?”

“All done! It's completely gorgeous. Remember how Melvyn would never let me have a dog? Well, I'm getting one next week. And a camper van! It's always been a dream of mine to travel around the coast of Britain and you know what Melvyn was like; obviously he wasn't interested in having anything to do with
that
. So as soon as the weather brightens up in the spring, that's going to be next on our list. Me and Mum, setting off together on a big adventure. Like Thelma and Louise with sensible shoes, and Tupperware boxes for our sandwiches.”

“Are you OK?” said Flynn.

“Sshh.” Lara shook her head at him and mouthed, “
I'm listening
.”

Mimicking her, Flynn mouthed back, “
I
know
.”

But honestly, it was all she could do not to fall off her chair. Trying to make sense of what Betsy Barrowman was saying was scrambling her brain. Then Betsy raised her left hand and Lara saw that it was bare. No wedding ring, no stonking great gemstone-masquerading-as-a-diamond. Had her husband died? But if he had, would she be sounding this overjoyed? It was a puzzle and no mistake—

“Excuse me, are you eavesdropping?”

Whoops, it was Betsy's companion, sounding curious rather than outraged. Lara said, “Sorry, no… well, maybe a bit. I just recognized your friend, that's all, and couldn't help overhearing—”

“Oh yes, I remember you! Temple's the jewelers on York Street,” Betsy exclaimed. “You work with Don Temple. He's such a lovely man, isn't he?”

“He is.” Was there a subtle way of saying this? Probably not. “I noticed you weren't wearing your ring,” Lara ventured.

“Aha, well spotted.” Betsy waggled her naked left hand. “Ring gone, husband gone, marriage over. Thank goodness!”

“Really? Wow.”

The convivial Christmassy atmosphere, together with the wine, had evidently loosened Betsy Barrowman's inhibitions. Leaning toward Lara and Flynn she said, “Melvyn was having an affair! With some awful creature who's had her lips pumped up like bicycle tires! And do you know, the moment I found out I was just
so
relieved, wasn't I, Mary? Because at last I had an actual reason to get out of the marriage!”

“Well, that's brilliant. Good for you.” Lara exhaled; Betsy wasn't the only one to be relieved. “When you came into the shop, from the way you were talking about him, you seemed so… happy together.”

“Ha, that's called putting on a brave face, keeping a stiff upper lip, pretending everything's fine. After so many years you just get used to doing it.”

“Melvyn was a bully,” her friend Mary chimed in. “He'd sapped all her confidence. None of us ever liked him.”

“So what happened to the ring?” Lara nodded at Betsy's hand.

“Well, it belonged to his family really. One of those heirlooms that gets passed down through the generations. And obviously I didn't want to wear it anymore anyway. Luckily though, my brother's a lawyer, so when we were working out the settlement, he said if Melvyn was taking the ring back, I should have the Bentley Continental.”

“Gosh.” Could she tell her? Would it be OK to tell Betsy now? Surely it was—

“I know!” Betsy's eyes were dancing. “And for some reason this made Melvyn furious. I mean, the Bentley was his pride and joy, he paid it far more attention than he ever did me. But my brother insisted it was only fair. So you can imagine Melvyn was even
more
furious a couple of weeks later when he found out I'd sold his precious car.” She beamed and sat back, utterly unrepentant.

Mary said with pride, “She's a new woman, you wouldn't believe the difference in her. It's like a caterpillar wrapping itself up in a cocoon then the cocoon breaks open and out bursts a butterfly.”

“That's such a fantastic story,” said Lara. “I'm so happy for you.”
Could
she
tell
her
now? Yes, she was going to do it
. “In fact—”

“Hang on, there's more. So Melvyn must be head over heels in lust with this new floozy of his, because the next thing we knew, he'd given her the ring to wear.” Betsy shook her head in amused disbelief. “He was introducing his new girlfriend to all our friends and she was flaunting it. The engagement ring I'd worn for thirty-six years! My God, it was practically still
warm
.”

“Awful,” Lara murmured, waiting for her chance to leap in.

“And then we come to the best bit,” Betsy continued. “The floozy took her gorgeous new ring along to a jewelers in Chippenham to have it valued, and guess what?” She paused, saw the look on Lara's face and said, “Right, you knew. I thought you probably did, from the way you kept talking about it.”

“I'm sorry. I wanted to tell you at the time. Don told me I mustn't. I felt terrible about it.”

“Ha, not half as terrible as Melvyn did when his lovely new fiancée got home and gave him what for. She wrecked the house, told him he was a lying bastard, threw a five-liter can of magnolia glossy paint over his new car, and told him he was rubbish in bed. Rather loudly”—Betsy's eyebrows rose—“by all accounts.”

“I heard every word,” Mary chimed in with satisfaction. “I live next door.”

“Comes in handy,” Betsy added mischievously. “I'm getting all the gossip. Anyway, so that was it, she packed up and moved on. Turns out it wasn't the love story of the century after all. According to his friends, my husband's now devastated and wishing he had his frumpy old wife back.”

“Which isn't going to happen.” Mary gave her arm a loyal squeeze. “You're never going back to that life. You're over him.”

And since Betsy's friend was supportive but not necessarily diplomatic, Lara added, “And you're definitely not frumpy.”

***

Flynn had sat back and kept out of the conversation but Lara had been acutely aware of his gaze upon her. When they'd finished their drinks and it was time to leave, he gathered up the bags and said, “Ready for some more shopping?”

They said their good-byes to Betsy and Mary, then made their way back outside. The temperature had dropped another couple of degrees.

“Where next?” Lara could feel her nose turning pink with cold and just knew something like that would never happen to Annabel.

“I was thinking about an iPod Touch for Gigi. Would that be good?”

“The new kind? She'd be thrilled.”

As they made their way toward the Apple store, a man selling bunches of fresh mistletoe called out cheerily, “Now here's a lovely couple! You'll buy some mistletoe, won't you?”

“We're not a couple,” said Lara.

“Ah, but this is special stuff.” The street vendor grinned at her. “That's the thing about mistletoe, it can make magic happen.”

As he spoke, he spread his hands and waggled his fingers to demonstrate the potential magical properties. Lara's heart did a flip and she shook her head. “It'll be dead by Christmas.”

“Don't be so grumpy.” Flynn was taking his wallet out. “Just ignore her. I'll have a bunch.”

The mistletoe was stuffed into a big plastic bag. Money changed hands. “Good luck,” the street vendor told Flynn. “You're a brave chap.”

“It's OK.” Flynn's tone was conspiratorial. “I'm saving it for someone else.”

Ouch. Thanks for pointing that out.

“The berries are all going to fall off,” Lara said as they moved away. “You know that, don't you?”

Flynn stopped walking. “Look, I've finally met someone I really like,” he said patiently. “And Gigi likes her too. I'd have thought you'd want me to be happy.”

“I do. Oh God, I'm sorry, I sound like the Grinch.” Her emotions churned up, Lara told herself she was being ridiculous. “Ignore me. It's just when you hear all these stories… Betsy being treated like rubbish by that awful husband of hers, and the things Joel got up to behind Evie's back… well, it's enough to make you Grinchy about men. And, you know, getting married.”

“But we're not all like that,” said Flynn. “And there are happy marriages too. Sometimes you meet the right person and the two of you don't break up. It has been known to happen.” As he spoke, he was looking past her into the window of a jeweler's shop. Lara shivered, observing the direction of his gaze; was he checking out the engagement rings or the bracelets?

“Is Annabel the right person?” It was the equivalent of prodding a wobbly tooth; she didn't want to know the answer but felt a compulsion to ask.

“It's early days.” Clouds of condensation accompanied the words. “But fingers crossed, she definitely could be.”

OK, get a grip, you knew this would happen sooner or later. And to give Annabel her due, she did seem charming. “Well, that's… great.” Lara concentrated her attention on the seductively spotlit contents of the shop window and waited until she was in control once more, then pressed a finger to the glass. “And I bet she'd really like that watch.”