Bella Summer Takes a Chance (28 page)

‘You make it sound bad when you say it like that. There’s technically no reason that I shouldn’t date. Is there?’ His face was the picture of innocence.

‘Not technically, no. But Mattias, how have you not mentioned it before?’

‘You never asked.’

‘Well, I certainly asked how you were! You’d think a little detail like “I’m in love” would warrant a mention. Be honest, you kept this from me. Why?’

He moved to hug me. I pushed him away.

‘Oh, darling, I don’t want to hurt you.’ He smiled. ‘There’s a happy side to this, you know.’

I cocked my head. ‘Do tell.’

‘You’re so much more important than she is, sweetheart. You always have been. Haven’t I been here for you all along? Didn’t I take you in when you lost your job? I’m committed to you. I’ve shown you that. So just say the word and I’ll tell her it’s over.’

‘Why would you do that?’

‘For you. I’d do it for you. That’s how much I love you.’ He grabbed for my hand. I pulled it away.

‘I don’t understand. Kat says you love her.’

‘I do, but I love you more. That’s why I’ll break up with her. Then we can put this whole last year behind us. See, darling, that’s how much I love you.’

‘Will you stop saying that?’ Pieces were slotting into place. Greasy, slimy, underhand pieces. ‘Mattias,’ I said carefully. ‘Something isn’t ringing true. If you love this woman, why would you be so quick to throw it away? That doesn’t sound like something you’d do if you were in love with her.’

His face reddened. ‘Are you calling me a liar?’

Well, if the lie fit. I waited for him to continue.

‘I don’t know what you want from me.’ His voice rose. ‘I’ve been patient. I’ve been your platonic friend all these months. I’ve played it all your way while you went off to
find yourself
. I let you move out, and I kept quiet. I let you see other men and I kept quiet. I took you back in, and still let you have it all your way. Well, I’ve got news for you. You never appreciated what you had with me.’ He was shouting. ‘I gave you every chance, but I was never good enough for you. You know what, B? I deserve you. And you deserve me.’

‘I deserve you?’ I didn’t believe what I was hearing. These months had just been part of some twisted plan. ‘Mattias, I don’t know who you’re manipulating more, me or that poor woman you’re dating! Actually, I do know. Both of us. How can you profess to love her, and then offer to dump her to go back to your ex? And how can you profess to love me when you’ve been seeing someone else? The answer is: you can’t. So one of those is a lie. And it’s now clear that you only let me move in here as part of some scheme to get back together.’ The more I thought about the last year, the more stupid I felt. ‘And what about all those texts and phone calls? Vodafone didn’t really hold them up, did they? You just wanted me to call back so you could keep tabs on me.’ I recalled the night I left The Musician in my bed to call back. ‘There’s something wrong with you, Mattias. You’re sick.’

‘And you’re a user,’ he spit back. ‘You’re very cosy when it suits you, when you need something, like a place to live. Or when you need a pick-me-up, like when you’ve been alone at a wedding, or see everyone else with boyfriends. I was there for you, B. You’d be lucky to have me back in your life. I’m what you deserve.’

The fight left me. He was so wrong, on so many levels. ‘Mattias. I don’t deserve to be manipulated, lied to or controlled. I don’t deserve you. I deserve so much more… I want to sell the flat. Now. As soon as we can get it listed. I want my money out of it, and I want to be away from you.’

‘But I love you,’ he said, realising he’d badly misplayed his hand.

‘You don’t know what love is, Mattias. I don’t either. But I’m going to find out. Just like I said I would when I broke up with you.’

I went to the bedroom to pack. It was after 1 a.m. but I was wide awake. Anger will do that to a woman.

Chapter 23

I called Faith’s mobile. ‘I need to stay at your place,’ I said as I pulled my suitcase out from under the bed.

‘Of course. Do you need me to help you pack?’

I loved that she didn’t even ask what had happened. ‘No. I’ll make arrangements to come back for the rest of my things when he’s at work. I’ll see you at your place in an hour?’

I shook with frustration as more pieces began falling into place. How I wanted to march back into the living room with each realisation. Every single text he sent, each phone call was designed to find out where I was and what I was doing. That’s why he never stayed long on the phone. And,
and
, every time he said he was tired, and offered to call the next day, it was just his way of keeping contact and making it sound like those calls were my idea.

He never once answered any questions about himself. He always deflected my questions back to me. To get more information out of me, no doubt.

And the dinners. All the times I’d cancelled plans because he said he’d already bought the pork, or chicken, or steaks, had planned the meal and needed to cook it that night. I’d been manipulated by meat.

I wondered if there really was a Scottish salsa-dancing yoga teacher at all. For all I knew, she was a figment of his imagination, conjured to drive me into his waiting arms. But perhaps I was being too nice about him. He probably was going out with her, and using her in his sick game of hearts.

He tried to say something as I lugged my suitcase to the door. Maybe an excuse. Maybe an apology. I didn’t care. ‘Don’t! Just don’t, Mattias. There is no going back from this. I was a fool to even entertain getting back together with you. Fool me once, shame on you. I won’t be fooled again. Goodbye.’

For the second time in ten months, I left my flat. For the last time, I left Mattias.

I expected to want to talk more when I got to Faith’s, but there wasn’t much to say once I’d filled her in on the details. It wasn’t like a regular break-up, with tears and uncertainties. There were no maybes.

There were, however, logistical practicalities to think about, because I could only stay there for so long. Once she was sure that I wasn’t a threat to myself or others, she slept at Frederick’s, so at least I had a bed. I talked to an estate agent about listing the flat, and started looking at places to live in the far reaches of London. Mattias didn’t bother trying to get in touch, except to call back when I texted him about the agent’s listing. Those calls were all business, for which I was relieved. I didn’t want his apology or, God forbid, any attempts at reconciliation. I just wanted to forget. And in a way, knowing that my feelings for him were based on lies made it easier to wipe my heart clean of them. Who knew how long it would take for the sting of humiliation to wear off, but at least I wasn’t pining. In fact, I was determined to move on with my life.

So once I was settled at Faith’s, I emailed The Dad, wondering if he’d even remember me after nearly a month. When I thought back to the way I’d brushed him off after dinner, because of Mattias, I cringed. It would serve me right if he blanked me.

But not everyone was as vindictive as my ex-boyfriend. I had to remember that. The Dad’s email appeared within an hour and we began a very gentle, unthreatening correspondence. Each email sparked more connections, leading to long trains of thought that meandered through our experiences. I started looking forward to those emails. Within a few weeks they’d taken on a hint of established relationship. We knew about each other’s daily plans – my gigs, his plans with his daughters and daily work stresses. We were comfortable dropping the names of friends into conversation. We said things like ‘Good luck in your meeting, email me when you’re done and let me know how it went.’ We were at risk of repetitive strain injury if we carried on that way, so we arranged our first date.

‘I thought you’d like it here, what with all the ghosts of celebrities past,’ The Dad said, gesturing to the autographed paparazzi snaps all over the walls of the restaurant he’d chosen in Fitzrovia.

‘I love it, and I think we’ve got the best table in the house.’ We sat beside each other in a corner booth, surveying the madness of the central London Saturday night. The Dad’s arm was casually draped along the back of the seat, his hand resting on my shoulder. Every so often he stroked it gently. This didn’t seem forward. It felt natural and I was enjoying myself immensely.

‘I come here quite a bit for lunch so they gave us the good table. It just shows what my £9.99
prix fix
lunch can buy. I know, I know, I shouldn’t flash that kind of cash around, but why not live the privileged lifestyle if we can? I knew I’d gone stratospheric when they gave me
two
mint chocolates with my bill the other day. They don’t dole those out to just anyone, you know. I’m important here. Watch this.’ He nodded to the waiter. ‘Hello,’ he said pleasantly. ‘Can we please have another bottle of water?’

‘Certainly, sir.’

‘Did you see that?’ He said when the waiter left. ‘It’s embarrassing, really, that kind of fawning attention.’ He sighed. ‘But one gets used to it eventually.’

‘I bet you sometimes wish you could blend into the background and be a nobody.’

‘You can’t even imagine what I suffer in the glare of such limelight.’ He smiled as he checked his ringing phone. ‘Excuse me a minute. I’m sorry.’ He asked the caller if everything was all right as he headed to the front of the restaurant. Maybe it was his daughter. It was unsettling to think that he had children with another woman. How did I feel about that? Put it this way. If I were a lion, I’d probably have eaten them.

‘I’m sorry about that,’ he said as he sat back down. ‘That was my ex-wife so I had to take it. How’s your pavlova?’

How was my pavlova? How was his ex-wife? ‘It’s fine, thanks. Lots of fruit. Is everything okay at home? I imagine you and your ex have to talk quite a bit, with the children and all.’

‘We generally talk every day. She’s fine, she just wanted to tell me about her day. She’s up for promotion.’

‘Oh, did she get it?’ Like I cared.

‘She doesn’t know yet.’

Then why was she calling him? To tell him she didn’t find out about a promotion? That wasn’t news, it was non-news. Chatting about your day was something done with friends. Which meant they must have been friends. Was that odd, or grown-up? I wasn’t sure. ‘I guess you need to talk a lot when there are children.’

‘We’ve also got joint custody, and that inevitably means logistics to sort out. I have the children on alternate weeks. The Sunday shuffle sometimes means days of planning and preparation. So it’s not easy but we make it work.’

‘That sounds very healthy. You divorced on good terms, then?’

‘I don’t think anyone divorces on good terms. Even when it’s a mutually agreed split, it’s never really easy. Well, you know.’

‘And was yours? Mutually agreed?’

He pursed his beautiful lips. ‘No, I wouldn’t say it was. Elizabeth left me, you see. It was a bolt from the blue.’

And there it was. I knew it. The potential chink in this knight’s armour. How should I respond when all manner of scenarios ran through my mind? Maybe she cheated on him… with their neighbour… in their marriage bed… and he caught them at it one afternoon when she should have been at her Bikram yoga class. Or perhaps he was one of those self-absorbed men who wouldn’t notice if his wife caught fire, and she’d been withering on the vine, a virtual slave to their life and children with not a single reward. No, that didn’t sound right. He was too courteous to be a cad. So maybe she went off men. It was probably best not to lead with that supposition. The main question was: who’s fault was it, and if his, just how monumental was that fault? Kind concern for his situation was probably the right response but I wasn’t about to fall into that trap. If we went down the I-just-want-to-be-supportive route, I couldn’t wheedle the whole story from him. And I wanted every last blood-soaked detail. Starting with why it was a bolt from the blue. Was it really, or was he too obtuse to see a Category 5 hurricane brewing?

‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘That must have been a shock. It’s always sad when people break up. But of course nobody can look in on a relationship and really know what’s going on… so what happened in your case?’

He didn’t look uncomfortable talking about the demise of his marriage, so I must have struck just the right balance – ninety per cent Mother Theresa with just a bit of Gestapo sting in the tail.

‘Libby stopped working when Sarah was born,’ he said. ‘We talked a lot about it even before she got pregnant. Her work had been stressful for year and I was earning enough, so I urged her to quit. When she got pregnant she jumped at the chance, though I did warn her that she was probably trading one bald little tyrant for another.’ He chuckled at the cosy memory, making me jealous of a woman I’d never met. ‘She could always go back to work if she decided she wanted to. But she loved being a stay-at-home mum, and then when Amanda was born, it didn’t seem possible but she became even happier. We were blissful for many years. We were a unit, a family unit. Elizabeth got very involved in the girls’ school and volunteered there once they got a bit older. We had lovely holidays with the girls, and sometimes weekends away when they stayed with her parents. And then everything changed.’ He shook his head, frowning. ‘Elizabeth grew distant. She wouldn’t tell me what was troubling her. I was convinced it was something I did but couldn’t work out what it might be. The more I asked, the more she withdrew. Then one day she said she didn’t want to be married to me any more. She no longer loved me and wanted a divorce. Just like that.’

‘Did you ever find out what had happened?’

He gazed at me with much sadness. ‘You know what happened, don’t you?’

‘There was someone else?’

‘Of course there was. You don’t just stop loving someone without a reason. Either they change.’ He ticked off on his fingers. ‘Or you change, or you fall in love with someone else. I didn’t change, that much I knew. I was exactly the same as when she met me. Oh, but I was,’ he said to my objection. ‘Really, I’ve been like this since my twenties. I managed to pester that out of Libby eventually. She admitted that I was the same person she fell in love with. So it wasn’t me. And she hadn’t changed either. You know how some people grow into their personalities over time? Libby was absolutely consistent from the day we met. This wasn’t a midlife crisis. She didn’t suddenly discover a love of fast cars and salsa dancing.’