Coming Home (25 page)

The waitress arrived with the teas.

‘It’s OK if you don’t want to talk about it,’ Clem said when she’d left. ‘But I need to know that you’re all right. What happened? How come you moved out? Are you OK?’ She leaned over and put her hand on my arm. ‘Sorry for the questions.’

‘No, it’s all right,’ I said. ‘I’m OK now. In one sense, coming to England has really helped.’ I looked at the cake. ‘That looks divine. Shall I be mum?’ I poured us each a cup of tea.

‘So what happened?’ Clem asked when I was settled back in the chair.

‘Oh God, you couldn’t make it up.’

‘Try me.’

‘Do you remember how charming James was? Remember that night we got together—me and James and you and Pat—and he made me feel like the luckiest woman alive?’ I bit into the cake.

‘Yes. He got that song played for you, didn’t he?’ Clem, her mouth full of cake, sang a bar of Prince’s ‘The Most Beautiful Girl in the World’. It sounded cheesy now, but I’d thought it was romantic. At the time.

‘Well, that wasn’t the real James.’ I wondered how to phrase it, the fact that her husband’s best friend was, in my opinion, not just a pathological liar but a narcissist and a
sociopath, too. ‘He’s quite … difficult.’ I said. ‘I suppose the signs were there all along. I just didn’t want to see them.’

Clem was shaking her head. ‘I never saw any signs, Evie. He always seemed totally devoted to you. Like the world’s most perfect fiancé. Goodness, you two were going to have the most perfect kids.’

‘He was clever, Clem. When he was with me, he was amazing. I thought the sun shone out of his you-know-what. But he wasn’t with me all the time. And that’s where the problem lay.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Remember he worked as an advisor to the Sheikh?’

Clem nodded. ‘Yes. Yes, I do. He was always being called to the palace at weird hours.’

‘Exactly. Except he wasn’t an advisor to the Sheikh. That wasn’t the Sheikh calling him at weird hours. It was his other fiancée.’

‘WHAT?’ Clem’s outrage was gratifying. ‘Evie! How can you sit here so composed and tell me this? You were going to marry the man; have children with him. He was the poster boy for perfect.’ She shook her head in disbelief. ‘You must be in pieces!’

I gave a bitter little laugh. ‘You know what? I was devastated. I thought my world had ended. I’d imagined growing old with him. I’d really thought he was the one.’

Clem reached for my hand. ‘It wasn’t just you. We all thought he was the one. Even Patrick had no idea. He fooled us all.’

I squashed the cake crumbs on my plate with my fork and
dabbed them into my mouth. ‘But this is Evie Stevie you’re talking about. You know what, Clem? I’ve been through worse. A lot worse. One night, I realised that I was the only one in charge of how I reacted to this. I could either sit at home and cry or I could get on with my life. I thought back over everything that I’d learned about grief when Graham died because, in a strange way, it felt similar. I made myself busy. I took up running; I started meditating, did some yoga. I got my knitting out—in a cold ocean somewhere, a whole ship of sailors have got new woolly hats thanks to James.’ Clem laughed. ‘I have bigger fish to fry than James bloody Carruthers.’

‘Well said!’ said Clem. ‘I don’t know how you do it, Evie. You’re amazing. It’s been how long now?’

‘A couple of months.’

‘If it was me, I’d be a mess. You seem so together.’

‘I was a mess, trust me. But, you know, I don’t care any more.’ As I said it, I realised it was true. In Dubai, James had consumed my thoughts night and day but, since Dad had died and I’d come to England, things had changed. James no longer dominated my feelings. And then there was the matter of the little shiver I felt when I thought of Luca. I was surprised how much I was enjoying his company.

‘And what about James?’ Clem asked. ‘Did he marry the other one … What was her name?’

‘Shelley.’

‘Shelley?’ Clem shook her head slowly. ‘Did he marry her in the end? Is he still in Dubai? Do you ever see him?’

‘Yeah, he’s still in Dubai. I doubt he got married. We were
having dinner at the One&Only when Shelley confronted him. She and I both lobbed our engagement rings into the sea.’

‘That’s hilarious. The One&Only?’

‘Yep.’

‘Nice symmetry, Miss Stevens.’

‘Thanks.’

‘I wish I could have been there for you.’ Clem smiled at me. ‘But you seem to have managed so well on your own. I’m so proud of you.’

I smiled back. It hadn’t been an easy journey, but I was getting there. ‘The main thing is that James is firmly off my radar. The only people I care about now are Mum, you, me and Tom Peters.’
And Luca
, I added silently.

‘Ah yes,’ said Clem. ‘Tom Peters. I can’t wait to hear all about Tom Peters.’

C
lem and I picked up the thread again once we were back at her house. Pat had kindly offered to go out for the evening, leaving us alone to order in a pizza and crack open the wine.

Clem and I settled down with our takeaway while I told her everything from the moment I got the call about Dad to how I found out about Tom. Even though Clem knew what was coming, it didn’t stop her from gasping as I got to the bit about finding the email from Zoe that told me about Tom.

‘Oh my God! When she said “your son”, you thought she was talking about Graham?’ she asked, aghast.

‘I didn’t know what to think. As far as I knew, I only had one brother and he was dead. The first thing I thought was that maybe he wasn’t dead at all. I mean, what would you think? I started to think his dying had all been some sort of sham and he was alive and at university. But I’d been to his funeral. I just couldn’t understand it.’

‘I bet you couldn’t. It’s not the kind of thing that happens every day. You poor thing. I can just imagine you there, all on your own in your mum’s study, wondering what in God’s name was going on.’

Her sympathy was too much. Suddenly overwhelmed, I felt the humiliating prick of tears.

‘Sorry,’ I said, looking up and trying to blot the wetness with my fingertips, trying to save my mascara. ‘It’s just … Oh God.’

Clem leapt over to the sofa and put an arm around me, patting my back. ‘It’s OK. Let it out. Let it all out. You’ve had so many shocks. It’s all right. Let it out. You’ve experienced more emotion in about a week than most people get in a lifetime. It’s OK.’

‘Oh no. I think it’s a tissue situation,’ I said, wiping my face with the back of my hand. There was snot everywhere and mascara down my cheeks. ‘Have you got any?’

Clem dashed out to the kitchen and brought back a box. ‘Here.’

Rubbing at my eyes till they were scratchy, I tried to compose myself but, every time I thought I’d pulled it back, the tears started again.

‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘It’s all been too much. Oh, Clem. I’m a rubbish friend. I come here, drink your wine and cry all over your sofa.’

‘I wouldn’t have it any other way.’

Slowly, I struggled to regain control. Finally, I raised a wobbly smile and realised that I was ravenous. ‘Is there any pizza left?’

‘That’s my girl,’ said Clem. She loaded up my plate and refilled our wine glasses.

‘Cheers!’ Emotions out, I felt better than I had all week.

‘So let me get this straight,’ said Clem. ‘You’ve already
met Tom once, right? But you didn’t get much of a chance to talk.’ I nodded. ‘And now he’s asked you to come up here and meet him properly?’

‘Yep. I’ve got loads of questions for him, and there’s stuff he wants to tell me, too.’

‘Like what?’

‘No idea. Probably how he found out. I dunno. Stuff like that.’

‘It’s unbelievable,’ said Clem. ‘I can’t believe you’ve had a brother for nearly two decades and not known about him. It’s like a Hollywood movie. What’s he like? Do you think you’re going to get on?’

‘He seems nice. I’m sort of excited,’ I said. ‘But it’s tempered by all the other stuff—Dad, for example. I’m so angry with Dad. Can you understand that? And it’s so difficult being angry with someone who’s dead. I wish I could have it out with him but I can’t. It kills me to think that he knew how much I missed Graham, he knew I had another brother, and he
hid
it from me. I know it was difficult for him, but I just wish there was a way I could have grown up knowing I had a brother, even if I didn’t meet him. I can’t bear to think of all those years I felt so alone, with Dad off working and Mum going loopy. I know Tom wouldn’t have been able to do anything—he was a baby for half of it!—but just knowing I had a brother. It would have made a difference.’

Clem sighed. ‘I know.’

‘And then I’ve been worrying about how to tell Mum. You remember what happened after Graham? I told you about that, right?’

‘I do. But she needs to know. I think you have to tell her at some point—it’s just a matter of when. How is she?’

‘She’s all over the place, that’s how she is. One minute she seems fine, then she’s going loopy, throwing Dad’s stuff out of the window, screaming at me, getting Dad confused with Graham. She’s selling the house. She even hit me, Clem.’

‘What?’

‘Miss Dawson, the grief counsellor I saw when Graham died, thinks she might have some grief disorder thing. A psychotic thing. I’m walking on pins around her, watching, waiting, trying not to upset her. Nothing’s turning out to be as simple as I thought it would be.’

Clem swilled her wine around the glass.

‘When I came over, I thought I’d just be helping Mum with Dad’s things, helping her arrange the funeral and all that. But now Mum has these, I don’t know, “episodes”. She totally loses it, then she’s fine the next minute. I feel like I don’t know her at all. We had a whole conversation about Graham’s funeral—she remembered all the details, right down to hymns and readings, but she didn’t even go to Graham’s funeral. And when I confronted her about it she said she knew she hadn’t gone. I mean, talk about a head-fuck.’

‘Oh God, that’s awful.’

‘Anyway, the point is, after all this, how can I tell her that Dad had a secret son? Conceived when Graham died? And that all the time she was grieving for Graham, he was sending money for his other son?’

‘Well, are you absolutely sure you’ve got your facts right? Are you sure your dad really is Tom’s father?’

‘Yes, I asked the Zoe woman outright …’

‘You
spoke
to her? Oh my God! You’re crazy, Evie. You are unbelievable!’

‘I called her to ask if she was sure Dad was the father. Once a journalist, always a journalist, right? Got to get my facts right. But aside from that, he looks just like Graham. Short of getting a DNA test, I can’t be any surer.’

‘Hmm,’ said Clem thoughtfully. ‘Well, Tom and his mum obviously know about you, so why don’t you see what he has to tell you tomorrow. Then, depending on how that goes, I think you should try to talk to the mum. She’s the only person who can tell you what happened with your dad. When you know all the facts, let the dust settle, think about the best way to do it. When do you have to go back to Dubai?’

‘I can take as long as I need—unpaid, of course.’ I rolled my eyes. ‘And while I don’t want to take the mickey, I need to be here right now to keep an eye on Mum, even if it means losing my job.’

‘You’ll never lose your job. Your boss loves you.’

‘Ha.’ It was true. All my boss knew about running magazines was that I made money for him. What’s more, after I’d told Emily I’d like a bit more unpaid leave, she’d managed to persuade him to divert a little chunk of what he was saving on my salary into a freelance budget to help her through—clearly there were benefits to being the boss’s niece.

‘I’d like to be here to help Mum move house,’ I told
Clem. ‘It’s chain-free, so maybe she’ll get the keys in a couple of weeks.’

‘OK great. Then you’ve got plenty of time to decide what to do.’

‘Mmm.’ While I was curious and excited to meet Tom again, things were different when it came to Zoe. With her, I felt conflicting loyalties. She wasn’t a direct relative of mine; she was a person with whom Dad had betrayed Mum—Mum didn’t need me to betray her, too.

‘Can you imagine what it’d be like to lose a child? You’re a parent, Clem. Can you?’ It was late, we were tidying up the kitchen before bed, and it was a question I’d never have dared ask her sober.

Wiping the kitchen counter, she shuddered. ‘Where did that come from, Evie?’

‘I’m just trying to imagine what Mum went through.’ Clem stopped wiping and looked at me. ‘When Graham died, it was all about me. About me losing my brother. I never stopped to think what it would have been like for Mum and Dad, losing their son.’

‘You were so young.’

‘Yeah. I was. I was eight. Too young to think about what it was like for them. I was wrapped up in my own shock and grief. I guess, if I imagined anything, I thought it would have been the same for them as it was for me. But it wouldn’t have been, would it?’

Clem shook her head.

‘I can’t even imagine it,’ she said. ‘Just thinking about it … it makes my blood run cold. I can’t put that thought in my head.’ Her eyes slid to a family photo on the wall, to the twins’ messy artwork, which threatened to consume the fridge door. ‘It makes me want to call Mum now and check the twins are OK. Your children are like a part of you, Evie. I can’t explain it. It’s like they’re a part of you walking around the world and you feel for them as you would for yourself.’

For the first time since Graham died, I tried to put myself in my parents’ shoes. I tried to imagine what Mum must have felt to have lost her only son—the perfect, blue-eyed boy. I tried to imagine the anger she must have felt towards Dad for being there and not preventing it. And I thought about Dad, not just devastated by the loss of his son, but regretting, constantly, the moment that he let Graham step into the road, replaying the accident, wishing he could change things.

I imagined what it must have been like for Dad afterwards, watching helplessly as Mum broke open, the life literally spilling out of her, and feeling that it was his fault. Coping with the blame she threw at him; dealing with her suicide attempt and incarceration while trying to keep things normal for me. I ached to think of the two of them trapped in their separate worlds of grief. Is that what had driven him into Zoe’s arms?