Coming Home (20 page)

And, as soon as I knew it, I wondered why I hadn’t thought of it before. I’d thought that the phone call—hearing her voice knowing that Dad had fathered a child with her—would have been enough. I’d wanted her to know that I knew; that she no longer had one up on me, a secret over me. But it hadn’t been enough. The curiosity demons inside me weren’t sated; now I knew who she was, they wanted to see this woman properly; to look at her, to talk to her, to try to see what Dad had seen in her. I hadn’t taken in a lot when I’d seen her outside the church. Did she get dimples when she smiled? What did her laugh sound like? What exactly was it about her that had snared my father all those years ago? Had she loved Dad? Had she seriously expected him to leave Mum?

But how could I see her? Zoe was, after all, the ‘other’ woman—the woman with whom Dad had betrayed Mum. It was seedier than anything I’d ever imagined would happen in our family, and to make any sort of contact with her made me feel like I, too, was betraying Mum.

I re-plumped the pillow and sighed. To plan a meeting seemed too deceitful. I would drive down to her house. I would park outside and I would look at the house in which my half-brother had grown up. And then I would knock at the door and take my chances. If it was meant to be, she’d be in. Happy with my decision, I fell into the deep sleep of the decided.

L
uca drove a small, black hatchback. I waited like a teenager, curtains twitching, for him to arrive then, as soon as he drew up outside, I opened the door, shouted bye to Mum, and crunched across the gravel. When I’d messaged Luca at breakfast with the news that I’d decided to go down to Zoe’s house, he’d called me back immediately, insisting on driving me down to Maidstone himself. ‘However it goes—and you have to prepare for the fact that it might not go well, Evie—it’s going to be emotional,’ he’d said. ‘Better you’ve got someone with you. And I’m free.’

Now, he jumped out of his car and came around to greet me, holding me by the elbows as he kissed me firmly on both cheeks.

‘How are you? Are you sure you want to do this?’

I nodded. I wanted to see where Tom had grown up, I wanted to see Zoe, and, after my night-time realisation, I wanted it now. I knew I could have called her first, agreed a suitable time, but I also didn’t mind catching her unawares, seeing what her spontaneous reaction would be. I have to admit, it wasn’t the best thought out of plans and I was glad Luca would be with me.

Luca pulled me into a little hug. ‘Good girl. I’ll be there. Don’t be nervous.’

He opened the passenger door for me with a flourish and stood back to let me climb in and I felt a little
frisson
, the flutter of the tiniest butterfly. Getting into a car with Luca brought back almost visceral memories of when we’d been dating. He’d barely had his licence back then but he’d sometimes managed to borrow his dad’s Audi to take me out on special occasions. An image from my seventeenth birthday popped into my head: Luca, in a suit, picking me up for my birthday dinner in Bromley. I remembered that he’d held the door for me then exactly the same way as he was doing now.

The car smelled subtly of his cologne—the same citrus blend as the other night. He was wearing jeans, a sweater and a battered leather jacket. His tough-looking brown leather shoes were muddy. My tummy fizzed.

‘I’ve come straight from shooting over the river,’ Luca said. His eyes slid towards me for a nanosecond and I knew what he was thinking: I, too, remembered the lazy, sensual afternoons we’d spent by the river when we were dating. Just us on a picnic blanket in the sunshine, kissing. I didn’t meet his gaze, but I felt my cheeks heat up and I turned away.

‘I got some great shots,’ Luca said, his eyes back on the road, his voice steady. ‘The light at dawn is just incredible as the orange spills over the horizon and reflects off the water. The swans were out, too, which was an unexpected bonus. I love it when they’re there. They’re so majestic.’

I smiled weakly. My mind was not on swans.

‘Thanks for doing this, Luca,’ I said, trying to bring my mind back to the present and the task that lay ahead.

‘Any time, Evie. Do you mind if we just drop my equipment off at my flat first? I’d rather not drive around with it all in the back unless I have to. I’ve got the tripod today. It’ll only take a couple of minutes extra?’

‘Sure,’ I said.

Luca lived in a one-bedroom apartment near the station. The building hadn’t been there when I last lived in Woodside and its modern shape stuck out from the redbrick terraces that surrounded it. The awkwardness returned as Luca parked the car.

‘You coming in?’ he asked.

I bent down in the car and fiddled in my handbag to give myself time to think. I didn’t need to go in but curiosity got the better of me. I picked up my bag and stepped out of the car.

Carefully avoiding any body contact with Luca, I followed him into the lobby. I was relieved he ignored the lift and headed straight for the stairs. ‘Take the lift if you want—fifth floor. I always do the stairs—saves me going to the gym!’ I followed him up the stairs, though nowhere near as fast, my nostrils flaring with the effort. The stale smell of old food hung heavy in the air of the stairwell. I carved my way through it, trying not to breathe too deeply.

Luca’s front door opened straight into a small hallway. Ahead and to the right, I could see the door to what must be his bedroom. I pressed a hand to my chest.

‘Unfit!’ I wheezed.

Luca laughed and led me left into a bright and airy open-plan room. At one end was a small kitchen area with glossy white units and a small dining table, which had nothing but a notepad and a pen on it; at the other, a reasonable-sized living room. It was surprisingly clean and I wondered if there was a girlfriend around to help, or if he kept it that way himself. My eyes flicked around, found no evidence of a resident female.

The floor was oak parquet and two sets of French windows not only let in masses of light but looked out over a huge terrace. The décor was a tasteful blend of style and comfort, with more than a nod to Ikea. Luca’s sofa was a modern, minimalist piece in black leather and chrome—not my taste, but very masculine—and white walls formed the perfect backdrop for a gallery of what I presumed was his photographic work.

While Luca went off to store his tripod in his bedroom, I looked at his photographs. He definitely had a talent for capturing the moment—all the pictures were in black and white; some were of his friends, some of landscapes, but the uniting theme was the play of dark and shadow on unexpected angles.

‘Do you like them?’ Luca was back.

‘Gorgeous photographs. I was just looking … you really have a gift.’

‘Thanks.’

‘Nice flat, too.’ I smiled at him. He used to say my smile was my best feature and now I gave him my brightest, mega-watt beam.

‘I bought at the right time.’ Luca smiled back, then looked away, modest. ‘It’s already worth more than I paid. I’m hoping to sell it on for something bigger one day. Do you want to see outside?’

He didn’t need to ask twice. I felt the heat of his body as he leaned past me to unlock the terrace doors. Together, we stepped out onto a huge terrace.

‘Wow,’ I breathed, spinning around with my arms held out. ‘It’s massive! You can see for miles.’ There was almost a 180-degree view of the surrounding area. ‘It’s so … liberating!’

‘I know. I love it up here.’ Luca walked over to the edge and looked into the distance. He talked into the sky. ‘I feel like I can get away from the world. I sit here on summer evenings with a glass of wine and read. Sometimes there’s still enough light at nine-thirty.’

‘It’s gorgeous.’

‘It is, isn’t it? Best bit of the flat. That and the fact I can be at the station in two minutes. Right … come on.’ He jangled his keys. ‘Enough property viewing. Let’s hit that crazy motorway.

Zoe lived in the outskirts of Maidstone. After a couple of false starts, we finally turned into her road. Luca slowed down so I could scan the house fronts for number sixty-eight.

And, there it was: an unassuming semi at the end of a quiet residential street. Cars were parked bumper to bumper down
one side of the road—none of the houses had garages or driveways. Zoe’s house was painted white in contrast to the neighbour’s beige brickwork. Its gutters stood out in black, its roof was tidy and well maintained. Three windows faced the street—two upstairs and one larger one downstairs—and a path down the side of the house led to the front door. The tiny patch of front garden was paved over but neat, a wooden bench parked under the window—a spot from which to catch the sun maybe. It looked like there might be a larger garden at the rear and I thought I could just make out the top of a conservatory. I wondered if Tom had grown up here. If this had been the landscape of my brother’s childhood. I felt sorry that he hadn’t known his father; sad that my own upbringing had probably been richer, in so many ways.

‘So,’ said Luca. ‘How does it feel?’

Weird. Weird was how it felt, to be sitting in a car looking at the house in which my dad’s ex-mistress had lived with my half-brother for, presumably, the past twenty years—although I was just guessing that bit. Maybe Zoe and Tom had started out somewhere smaller, an apartment. Had Dad bought the house for her?

Luca interrupted my thoughts with a discreet cough. ‘Are you sure you want to see her? We can just go now you’ve seen the house. No pressure.’

I did want to see Zoe—so badly—and, yet, I didn’t. I didn’t know what I’d say to her. I had so many questions, I didn’t know where to start. Maybe I needed to plan a strategy before announcing myself to her. But, sitting here faced with her house, I had to try.

‘Do you mind waiting?’

‘No problem. If it’s going well, and you think you’ll be ages, just drop me a quick text and I’ll wait in town. Otherwise, I’ll be here.’

I opened the car door, got out and walked slowly up the front path to the door, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other. I stood for a second, then picked up the heavy brass knocker and let it drop back onto the door. The rap sounded like a gunshot; a handful of birds exploded into the air from nearby trees, wings flapping. I tried to hang on to the fact that I’d met Zoe before—I’d met her and I’d liked her.

No response. I knocked again, louder this time. More confident.

No reply. Seriously, she was out? Logic left me; the fact that I’d come unannounced left me. All I could think was that I’d come all this way after twenty years and she was out. Bitterly disappointed, I walked back down the path to Luca’s car, all the while straining for the sound of the door being opened behind me. Perhaps she’d been in the loo?

‘No reply,’ I said. ‘She’s out.’

Luca tried to rally, but he looked as defeated as I felt.

‘At least you tried. We’ll come back another time. Maybe on a weekend? I don’t mind.’

I fastened my seat belt, looking back at the house. Did I imagine a shadow in the upstairs window?

‘Thanks so much for bringing me here, Luca,’ I said. ‘I really appreciate it. Maybe we can get a coffee or something so it’s not a completely wasted trip?’ Then I remembered
that he had work; new photos he presumably needed to download and process. I didn’t want to be a nuisance. ‘I mean, if you’ve got time?’

‘Sure,’ he said and a plan, as yet unformed, pushed its way into my head; a maggot of a thought popping through the apple’s skin. A way that maybe, just maybe, I could get to see my half-brother in the flesh.

‘There’s a café in town called Harry’s,’ I said. ‘Maybe we could go there?’

‘Sure,’ he said.

H
arry’s Café was easy to find. Clearly the
café du jour
with Maidstone’s coffee-drinking set, it had a prominent position on the High Street and looked, in the flesh, just as it had on the website: white shutters, white window frames, a neat awning, ‘Harry’s’ painted in black italics. Luca paused, his hand on the door, and turned back to look at me.

‘Come on! I thought you said you wanted to try this place?’

I’d stopped further back on the pavement, my courage on strike. Luca cocked his head and looked closely at me. His eyes narrowed, then he nodded.

‘Is there something you’re not telling me, Miss Stevens?’

I bit my lip and looked at the pavement. Luca came over, bent down so his head was below mine, and looked up into my face. ‘I know you, Evie Stevens. I used to know you better than you knew yourself. And I know there’s something going on. What is it?’

He looked so funny upside down I had to laugh. I pushed him away.

‘Look, it might be that someone I know works here.’

‘Someone like who?’

I stared at Luca, one eyebrow raised, willing him to guess.

‘Oh God.’ Luca slapped his forehead. ‘Oh, don’t tell me, Evie. Someone who could maybe, for example, be your half-brother?’

‘Got it in one.’ I turned on my heel and started walking away. ‘Anyway, it’s all academic. I can’t do it. Let’s go to Prêt.’

Luca ran after me, grabbed my arm and spun me around. I looked anywhere but at him.

‘Look at me, Evie.’ He gave me a little shake. ‘We’ve come all this way. You didn’t see the mum. You have the perfect chance to see Tom. He won’t even know who you are.’

‘Nope.’

‘OK, let’s try this. Imagine going home without having seen him. Come on.’ He pulled me in the direction of the car park. ‘Come on, we’re going. “Bye Maidstone. Bye Tom. Was nice not-quite seeing you.” How does that feel?’

‘Oh, Luca.’

‘How does it feel, Evie?’ His voice softened and he brushed a wisp of hair off my face, tucked it behind my ear. ‘We can just nip in and get a takeout if you like. You don’t have to sit there and gaze at him for half a day. Two minutes max. He might not even be there. What do you say?’

My nod was almost imperceptible. ‘Just a takeout.’

‘OK, great. I’m gasping for a coffee. Come on.’ Luca turned back towards the door. I hurried to catch up with him.

‘Hold my hand,’ I whispered.

Luca pushed the door, a bell jangled overhead, and then we were inside the warm fug of the café. The scent of coffee and toasted panini made my mouth water. Luca squeezed my hand and I hesitated behind him, feeling suddenly sick.