Love Nest (31 page)

‘I…’

‘I’m not going tonight, Lucinda. I want to be alone with you.’

‘All right,’ she agreed. Did she really love him? Perhaps she did. She knew she’d been infatuated, obsessed, but the thought that this might be something even more profound made her catch her breath. It would be nice finally to be properly in love, something different, something that would give her the insight she’d always suspected she lacked into how the world really turned. But why hadn’t he said, ‘I love you too’?

37

Nick enjoyed his second day in Tobago a little bit more, although his skin had blistered and he had a permanent raging headache.

‘You should wear a hat,’ Lucinda said.

‘I don’t have one.’

‘You could borrow one of Daddy’s.’ This time he had little choice but to agree, though when he saw the panama she produced he was appalled. But there was no one to see them on the private beach. She swam more; he sunbathed with his shirt and hat on and paddled a bit. They had another siesta. She didn’t mention Michelle and Angus again (apart from to say they’d been very understanding when she’d called to cancel, saying her friend was too jet-lagged), but suggested they had dinner at the Waterwheel in Arnos Vale. He had to accept really – it was a bit weird staying at home every night. It was pitch dark by six and after that there was nothing to do, except eat Mrs Marilia’s admittedly tasty food in the kitchen, watch a DVD from a dodgy collection of dusty old war movies and lame comedies starring Meg Ryan, and go to bed at around ten.

So here they were at the Waterwheel, based in an old sugar factory in the middle of the island, surrounded by middle-aged couples in pastels, talking in soft voices.

‘The Caribbean food here’s great,’ Lucinda was saying in her usual confident manner. ‘When they try to do other cuisines is where it gets a bit ropy. I mean, caviar and crayfish salad in a raspberry vinaigrette. Please! Do what you’re good at doing. Save the fancy European stuff for when you’re at home.’

‘Yeah, like I always do,’ he said sarcastically.

‘You do like to play the poor-me card, don’t you?’ Lucinda said. She tried to sound light-hearted. She failed. To his surprise, Nick was glad she was having a go at him. That love thing she’d said had freaked him out.

‘Let’s get a great bottle of wine,’ he declared, as a woman cried, ‘Lucinda!’

‘Maureen!’ Maureen was a lady of a certain age in a violently coloured kaftan accessorized with ethnic jewellery. Nick instantly loathed her. But Lucinda was standing up, kissing her, telling her her father was very well.

‘Hello,’ said Maureen, turning gimlet-like eyes upon him. ‘My name’s Maureen Berowne. And you are…’

‘Nick,’ he muttered, shaking her hand reluctantly.

‘Nick Crex,’ Lucinda said hastily.

‘I can’t believe I’ve bumped into you,’ Maureen said, still eyeing him as if he were some weird animal in a zoo. ‘You are a naughty girl coming here and not telling us. Why don’t you join us?’

Nick held his breath. But Lucinda said hastily, ‘Actually, if you don’t mind we’re a bit tired tonight… Maybe coffee later.’

‘You want to be alone, you lovebirds. Fair enough. How about you come over to lunch tomorrow though?’

‘Oh! We’re leaving tomorrow. It’s just a lightning visit.’

‘But you’re on the BA flight, right? That doesn’t go until the evening. Come over.’

‘Maureen lives in the most gorgeous house,’ Lucinda said apologetically. ‘You’d love it.’

Nick nodded. His headache was back and his skin was prickling more than ever. His appetite had completely disappeared.

‘Karen,’ Max said, eyes on the twisty road. ‘I can’t carry on like this any more. I know I keep saying it but I want you to make up your mind. To leave Phil. To be with me.’

It was as if all the breath had left her body. She was light-headed, she thought she might vomit. She swallowed. She tried to speak, but found she couldn’t.

‘I just have to have you,’ he continued. ‘I’ll never love anyone else so much. I know it’s going to be hard. I know about the girls and that divorce is hell and… But I’ll do it. I’ll fight for you. Because I can’t bear the thought of life without you.’

She was still shocked. But in a happy way now. Great bubbles of joy swelled and popped in her chest. Max wanted to be with her! He could have been with any number of young, no-strings, beautiful, pneumatic-breasted girls but he wanted to be with her.

‘In fact I think we should get married.’

‘
What?
’ For heaven’s sake. A joke was a joke but this was getting silly.

‘Because asking you to move in with me isn’t enough. There needs to be a rock-solid commitment here. If you’re going to go through with it… leaving Phil, I mean…’ Seeing her incredulous face he sounded less certain now, like a little boy who’d lost sight of his mummy in the crowd. Karen said nothing, just stared at him.

‘So?’ he asked anxiously.

‘So what?’

‘So would you like to marry me?’

‘Of course I would. I’d love to. I love you. But… oh, Max. It’s only been what… eight – ten weeks? You don’t marry anyone you’ve only known for eight weeks. I couldn’t let you do such a ridiculous thing. Not to mention the fact I’m married already.’

‘Unhappily.’

‘It doesn’t matter. I made… promises.’

‘Look. I love you. You love me. Right? Or am I wrong?’ Now he definitely wasn’t a boy, but a grown, angry man. The contrast almost made her laugh.

‘Of course you’re not wrong. You know how much I love you.’

‘Right. So we love each other. We have earth-moving sex. We make each other laugh. We talk. And you don’t love your husband. I know you don’t. He may have been ill, but he’s still a manipulative bully.’

‘I never said that!’

‘No, you didn’t. You’re actually remarkably loyal about him. But he is a bully, that’s obvious. You deserve better, Karen. And, look, I’ve always slightly pitied my friends who are married and how they never have any time to themselves and can’t watch football all day, but now I want to be shackled. With another man’s children. I know we won’t be waltzing off into the sunset together, I know your girls will probably hate me and you will too sometimes and I’ll have to learn to cook and everything and leave Islington and move to the sticks but it’s worth it. For you.’

‘I see.’

‘So?’

‘Max, I’m going to have to think about this. A lot. The girls…’

‘Lots of my friends had parents who divorced and they’re fine. Much worse for parents who hated each other to have stayed together, they say.’

She shook her head, touched to her core by his love, but still not believing his argument. Couples who divorced did irreparable damage. Look at her, all messed up from Dad’s betrayal all those years ago.

‘So it’s a no?’ he said miserably, as they swept into a wide gravelled courtyard, dominated by a half-timbered building signed Faldingley House Hotel.

‘Let’s just check in.’

The room was cosy, chintzy, with a view over manicured gardens. The yells of children playing floated through the bay windows. Karen sat in an armchair as far away from the four-poster bed as possible. She couldn’t bring sex into the equation now. She had to think. But she was so tired, more tired than she’d ever been in her life, even in the first few weeks with Eloise, even when she’d been dealing with all the fallout from the cancer. What was wrong with her? How could Max affect her more than a dying husband?

‘Still a no?’ Max asked gently, kneeling in front of her.

‘Do you know what? I’d just really like a nap.’

‘OK.’ He paused and then said, ‘Do you mind if I go to sleep beside you? Only I’m tired after all that driving.’

*

Lucinda glanced at Nick out of the corner of her eye. She tried hard not to laugh. His nose was red and luminous like car brake-lights, he wore an old baggy T-shirt that belonged to Benjie (his own T-shirts were too tight now he had sunburn on his shoulders) and shorts that revealed white, hairy and rather knobbly knees. He looked silly. She’d have been lying to say that this silliness didn’t detract slightly from her feelings for him. Not to mention the rudeness she’d witnessed these past few days.

‘There’s the Dwight Yorke football stadium,’ she said. ‘He comes from here, you know.’ She was at the wheel of the jeep; they were on their way to lunch at the dreaded Maureen’s. ‘It’s such a sleepy place still,’ she continued. ‘Dogs still snoozing in the middle of the road, chickens running around. But then you hear about shootings and drug raids. It’s coming from Trinidad, of course, they have a terrible drug problem there. Smugglers from Venezuela land on the beaches at night and… Oh, look, there’s the turn-off to the Argyle waterfall. Very pretty. Maybe we should visit on the way home.’

‘Lucinda, could you just quit the tour guide stuff?’

A lava of rage suddenly bubbled through her. She pulled up abruptly on the hard shoulder. ‘
What
is your problem?’ she snapped.

‘What do you mean?’

‘You’ve been like this ever since we got here.’

‘Like what?’

‘So grumpy, so uninterested in everything. So hostile. I thought…’

‘You thought what?’

‘I thought you were different.’

He shrugged sullenly. ‘I’m just me,’ he muttered.

‘So I see,’ she retorted. She tried a different tack.

‘Would you like to drive?’

‘Nah, that’s OK.’

‘Sure? You might enjoy a spin at the wheel.’

‘No!’

‘You can’t drive, can you?’ she said quietly.

‘Is that a crime?’

‘Of course not,’ she said, wondering why this revelation should make her think even less of him. Lots of adults couldn’t drive, she just didn’t think she’d ever met one. ‘Now. Do you want to go to this lunch or not?’

A long pause followed.

‘Might as well,’ he said eventually.

So they drove on. Lucinda didn’t speak, her mind racing. She wasn’t at all sure about this. She didn’t know if she wanted to introduce Nick to all Mummy and Daddy’s friends. Word would get out and they would have kittens. A week ago she’d wanted them to find out like this, been looking forward to squaring up to her parents. But now she wasn’t so sure. She found it difficult to admit, even to herself, but the brief fantasy that Nick was the love of her life was distinctly shaky now. She wondered if she should call Maureen, tell her the car had broken down or something.

But Lucinda was stubborn. She’d invested a lot in this relationship. She wanted to see it through. Didn’t want to admit defeat. She
did
love Nick, however stupidly he might be behaving, and she was sure if they overcame this hiccup they could move on and grow stronger than before.

*

Karen thought there’d be no way that an insomniac like her could sleep in the circumstances. But her eyes closed and she fell into the heaviest sleep she’d had in months, if not years. When she woke up it was dark outside.

‘Hi,’ said Max on the pillow beside her.

‘Hello. What time is it?’

‘Around nine, I think. You were tired.’

‘But I’m awake now.’

She rolled towards him. He pulled her close. They started kissing.

‘We’ll do it,’ she whispered. ‘I’ll do it. I’ll leave Phil. We’ll be together.’

38

‘I can’t believe you did that,’ Lucinda snapped.

‘Did what?’ They were back on the aeroplane, the same luxurious surroundings as a couple of days ago, their breakfast in front of them. But the mood couldn’t have been more different. Lucinda had spent the whole flight squirming in mortification as she remembered their last afternoon in Tobago. Nick had been so rude, totally ignoring Elsa Morgan-Plaide whom he’d been seated next to, and Maureen’s husband Barty, who’d done his best to welcome their taciturn guest, asking if he’d ever been on
Top of the Pops
and could you dance to his tunes. All right, they weren’t exactly Jeremy Paxman level interrogations but he was only trying to be polite. And Nick had just answered with grunts and rolled eyes and sneers, like a teenager.

Now he shrugged. Something inside Lucinda snapped.

‘This isn’t working,’ she said.

He looked at her. His nose was peeling now.

‘Don’t be ridiculous!’

‘I’m not. I don’t want to be with you any more and I don’t honestly think you want to be with me. You haven’t treated me very nicely at all these past few days. Most men would have loved a free holiday like this.’

‘Fuck off,’ he said. ‘I can buy my own holiday.’

Lucinda realized how that must have sounded. ‘Sorry,’ she said.

There was a tiny pause and then he said, ‘I’m sorry too.’

For some reason they both began to giggle.

‘It’s just as well,’ she sighed, after a moment. ‘We’d have found out sooner or later that it wasn’t working, so better sooner don’t you think?’

‘Typical you,’ he said, amused despite himself. ‘Package it all up neatly. Like some kind of marketing exercise. “Oh, it didn’t tick the boxes. Well, let’s bin it.” ’

‘I didn’t mean it like that.’ But actually, when Lucinda thought about it, she did.

‘We’ve had some good times,’ she said.

‘We have,’ he agreed. He kept thinking about Kylie. Thank God he hadn’t told her what was going on. A week with Lucinda had made him appreciate her like never before. He’d behaved like a complete twat. He’d junk the flat – the exchange wasn’t until the end of the week. He’d find a house for both of them.

But in the meantime.

‘Fancy one more shag? Just for old times’ sake?’

‘No, thank you,’ said Lucinda politely.

Nick shrugged good-naturedly. ‘Fair enough,’ he said. He put on his headphones and turned on the DVD of the latest James Bond. His body felt helium light with sudden relief. He couldn’t believe it. It was all over. And so easily. The relationship he’d known all along hadn’t been quite right had ended ideally, no tears, no recriminations, instead a kind of rueful amusement on both sides that they’d made a mistake they’d both rather forget.

‘Ladies and gentlemen. We are now approaching London, Gatwick. Please fasten your seatbelts and return your tray tables to the upright position.’

Max was sleeping now. Karen looked at him, reverentially, wanting to trace his profile with her fingers, but she didn’t. She didn’t want him awake, she wanted to revel in this feeling of enjoying watching him breathe, of wanting to be so close to someone, wanting to run her fingers over his chest and rest her fist in his clavicle, cover his body with kisses.

They hadn’t had sex. Karen couldn’t. Couldn’t go further than foreplay. She was too conflicted. Phil was at home. The girls were with him. How could she even be spending a night under a different roof from them? How could she be planning this – after the hell they’d already endured? Phil would give her the tiniest settlement she could imagine – she wouldn’t blame him. She and Max would end up living in a poky flat, with two angry children. Two children who wouldn’t have the slightest understanding or forgiveness about the fact that their parents were people too. Entitled to lives of their own. To happiness.

And they’d be right. Because no one was entitled to happiness. And no one who had a child could ever put themselves first again. It came with the territory.

Maybe they could wait until the girls had grown up? Or maybe Phil would announce he’d fallen in love with his yoga teacher and was leaving her?

Max sighed and stirred a little. Looking at him, Karen was overwhelmed with love – love she had known in relation to her daughters, but never in this adult kind of way. Not least in the past few years, when she’d trained herself not to feel too much about anything, to keep her heart in the deep freeze.

But now it was defrosting fast.

Her eyes filled, happiness and pain mingling together, and she drifted off again into another deep, dreamless, but rapturous sleep.

She woke just before dawn. Max was kissing her brown, erect nipples.

‘I really mean it,’ he whispered. ‘I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.’

‘Me too.’

Afterwards they ordered breakfast in their fluffy bathrobes. Sausage, egg, bacon, black pudding, cup after cup of steaming coffee.

‘How can someone as tiny as you eat so much?’ Max laughed.

Guilt struck her again. It was all the forbidden foods, foods pushed off the agenda by muesli, wheatgrass, quinoa and Manuka honey. But she couldn’t tell Max that – it would be as if she was laughing at Phil for wanting to stay well. What else was he supposed to do?

She glanced at her phone on the bedside table. There was no signal here. She wondered when it would come back to life again. When the outside world would start to intrude.

‘It’s a beautiful day,’ said Max, gesturing at the window, at the view of endless, rolling green fields – a view that made the notion this was an overpopulated island on a dying planet seem as preposterous as arguing Elvis was still alive. ‘Do you want to go for a walk?’

‘I’d love to.’ Despite his country leanings, Phil had never liked walks. Karen remembered a weekend in the Lake District shortly after they’d become an item. It was a perfect summer’s evening. She wanted to walk round the lake near the hotel before dinner, but he wouldn’t come with her, as the golf was on. Karen had never forgotten her fury, her exasperation, as she stormed round the lake alone, too upset to enjoy its beauty. That’s when she should have walked away, when Phil refused to walk round the lake.

She swallowed and looked at Max. ‘And then we’ll have to get back.’

‘I know. But then you’ll talk to Phil.’

‘Maybe not today. But I will talk to him soon.’

Max’s face darkened. ‘You won’t back out on me, will you, Karen?’

‘I won’t.’ She meant it. ‘But just not today. I’ll have to find a time when the girls are at school or something. Maybe take the day off work. I can’t just drop the bombshell.’

Karen didn’t want to think about it. She just wanted to enjoy the summer air on her face, watch the poppies swaying in the field, listen to the larks singing in the elm trees. Ironically, all the things she could enjoy every day if she moved here. But this wasn’t about Devon versus St Albans any more. It was about Phil versus Max, a man she’d never loved wholeheartedly versus a man who consumed her.

She didn’t want to think about it.

They climbed to the top of a hill, where an ancient menhir stood.

‘Look at me,’ said Max, pulling himself up on to it, wobbling precariously. ‘I’m the King of the World. I can see for mi-i-i-les.’

She was laughing at him, arms outstretched to keep his balance, as her phone started to ring in her pocket.

‘Oh my God. We have a signal.’

She pulled it out.
Phil
, said the caller ID. The ground seemed to shift beneath her as if she’d hit turbulence.

‘Hello.’ She braced herself for her husband’s voice. But she didn’t hear him. She heard Eloise.

‘Mummy, it’s me. Mummy, where are you?’

Mummy?
Eloise had stopped calling her that six years ago when she’d announced out of the blue that it was ‘lame’ and by the way there was no such person as Santa Claus. Or the tooth fairy. Bea cried for days.

‘Darling, I’m… away. Are you OK, sweetiepie?’

‘It’s not me, Mummy. It’s Daddy. He’s sick. Really sick. He’s gone back into hospital this morning. Mummy, we need you back home. We need you now.’

‘I’ll give you a lift,’ Lucinda told Nick, as they walked through early morning Gatwick towards passports. ‘I’ve got a car waiting.’

It had been a snap decision to end it, but already she was mightily relieved. She knew the Tobago gossip machine would be in overdrive after the lunch, but she’d begged Dolly and Marilia to stay schtum and she was going to claim to Mummy and Daddy, or whoever, that Nick was merely an acquaintance she’d bumped into on the island, that
of course
he hadn’t stayed in the villa. It felt like a narrow escape. Something she’d laugh about when she’d taken over Daddy’s empire and Nick was as famous as Mick Jagger. No one would ever know, she thought smugly, as a man jumped in front of them.

‘Nick! Nick!’ he shouted. A flashbulb started going off.

Momentarily blinded, Nick’s hand flew to his eyes.

‘Lucinda!’ another man shouted.

‘What in heaven’s name is going on?’ she snapped. ‘Go away.’

The man had a beer belly and a beard. He merely laughed, continuing running in front of them, his shutter snapping like the jaws of a hungry crocodile.

‘I take it you haven’t seen today’s papers?’ he asked.

‘What?’

He shoved a copy of the
Sunday Post
into her hand. Lucinda stared at it aghast. ‘
The rock star and the heiress’
, read the headline. In smaller letters underneath, she read:
‘Star’s girlfriend in clinic after suicide attempt’
.

The photographer continued snapping their shocked expressions.

‘Welcome home,’ he said.