‘Hey there, little Dot,’ she said, going carefully into the dog’s kennel. It had taken her ages to gain her trust enough to do that. For days after she’d come to them, the poor thing had shaken uncontrollably and cowered in the corner whenever anyone had gone near her. She would need special owners, people with experience of JRs who had lots of time to devote to her and would understand the amount of care she would need. ‘You’ve put on a little weight, haven’t you, gorgeous, hmm?’ She spoke to the dog softly, her heart swelling with love for the tiny animal that had probably never known human kindness.
Approaching her cautiously, she bent to gently pet her and was delighted when she was rewarded with a nervous wag of her tail. ‘You’ll be okay, girl,’ she assured her, as the dog lapped at her hand and then looked up at her, her huge chocolate-brown eyes full of uncertain hope. ‘I’ll make sure you are, I promise.’
Her chest constricting with a mixture of determination and anger at the way little Dot had been treated, she spent another few minutes with her, feeding her nutritious treats. She wasn’t a bad person. She was not getting things out of perspective, wanting to rubbish Laura out of spitefulness, insecurity or jealousy. It just wasn’t who she was. She didn’t need to prove that to herself. She did need to prove it to Steve, though, for their son’s sake. She also needed to trust her instincts. They were too strong to be ignored.
Fetching her lunch and her PC from her car, she went to the small office set aside for form-filling and paperwork. Ten minutes later, having checked Instagram first, she found what she wanted on FB. There were a few people with the name Laura Collins, but the Laura she was looking for was unmistakable, with her long mane of rich auburn hair. Snatching a bite of her sandwich, she scrolled down. The profile hadn’t been updated for over a year. The most recent photos posted were mostly wild flowers and landscapes; impersonal stuff, giving nothing away. Glancing through them, she paused at a photo of an orange sunset dated almost two years ago, with the caption A New Chapter in My Life. There were previous chapters, then? Gulping down a mouthful of food she had no taste for, she wiped her fingers and scrolled on, skipping through random reposts and pictures of cute animals – and then froze.
There was no mistaking that the woman looking back at her was Laura, her hair slightly shorter, a smile dancing in her eyes. No mistaking either that the blonde-haired, blue-eyed child she was crouching beside bore an uncanny resemblance to Ollie. Her heart lurching, Sarah stared hard at the photograph.
Who was this child? Her stomach twisted in confusion as she scanned a plethora of photographs, mostly of the little boy – Liam, she learned: Liam on a slide in the park, Liam at Halloween dressed as a devil, Liam smiling gleefully astride a bike with stabilisers. His first two-wheeled bike? There were photographs of Liam on holiday, planting seashells on a sandcastle, one of him laughing as he chased a ball across a lawn in a back garden, a man close behind him; photos of him taking his first baby steps, Laura hovering nervously as he did. Fear pierced her chest like an icicle as she realised that this could almost be Ollie; that this could be her own child’s life story. These were intimate photographs, capturing milestones; major events in a child’s life that Laura would have had to be there to witness.
Her hands trembling, she went further back, and her blood froze in her veins. For a second, she blinked stupefied at the happy couple in the photograph. The man sliding the wedding band onto the woman’s finger was the same man chasing the little boy across the lawn. The bride … Sarah’s head reeled … was Laura.
The child … this child was their child. He had to be.
Laura had told her bare-faced lies. Why would she? Dear God. Where was the child now?
Jumping up too fast, Sarah spilled her food on the floor. She dropped down and scrambled around after it, lest one of the animals come in and eat it. Did Steve know about any of this? Panic clutched at her chest. If she tried to tell him, would he tell her this was her being unreasonable? Anger unfurling inside her, she stuffed her uneaten food into the bin. Would he tell her that she was being jealous and vindictive if she pointed out that the woman had a child from a former marriage who appeared to have disappeared from her life?
She had to talk to him. Closing the PC down, she grabbed her phone. First, though, she needed to know more. This boy had to be somewhere. If anyone could find out where, Joe could, assuming he wanted to, that he cared enough to, that he didn’t think she was stuck on her bloody ex. God! Why hadn’t she stood her ground? She’d known something wasn’t right; her every instinct had been screaming at her that something wasn’t right. Yet she’d left her child in the woman’s care. Nausea swilling inside her, she selected Joe’s number. Shit! She cursed when his phone went straight to voicemail, remembering he was on a course.
Flying out of the office, she raced to reception, waving her phone at the staff there and citing an emergency, then ran to her car. Trying Joe again as she drove to the nursery to pick Ollie up, and still getting no answer, she left a message for him to call her. What would she do if he didn’t? Suddenly she felt more alone than she’d ever felt in her life. There was nothing she could do about it if he had decided he’d had enough. She had too. She was bloody pissed off with being told that she had a problem, when it was obvious that the one with the problems was the woman Steve had leapt into a relationship with. Serious problems. It was becoming abundantly clear that Steve had been manipulated. Laura hadn’t come into his life by accident, Sarah was sure of it.
She’d chosen him.
Her heart boomed out a warning.
She’d chosen Ollie.
Twenty-Two
Joe
Seeing a stream of missed calls from Sarah, Joe’s heart sank. What was he supposed to do? Every time he saw her, the conversation centred around her ex, and every single time, they ended up verging on an argument. He could understand her being cautious about who she allowed to have access to Ollie – he’d thought initially over-cautious – although the thing with the bunny’s ear and then the scissors turning up had jarred him. Despite that, he’d managed to open his mouth and put his foot in it, again. The expression on Sarah’s face had said it all. He’d disappointed her. She felt he was letting her down. He wanted to support her, be a hundred per cent there for her, but he couldn’t escape the fact that she did seem fixated on finding fault with Laura, which begged the question why.
He’d turned a blind eye to his wife continually banging on about her ex, meeting up with him, even though his every instinct had told him she was cheating on him. He’d been a complete idiot, not wanting to believe it – until he’d had to. And now here he was seeing another woman who didn’t seem to be able to move on. At least that was how it appeared to him. Was he right, or was it actually him who was obsessing because of his own insecurities? He wasn’t sure, but he was bloody sure he couldn’t go that route again. He’d been there. Done that. So what the hell was he doing here now, about to meet the woman who’d already crucified him? He clearly was the prize prat Courtney had him down as.
Sighing, he glanced towards the bar where she would be waiting. He was late, having at first decided not to come and then wrestling with his conscience. She’d been upset when she’d rung him, barely making any sense, something to do with the dickhead she’d preferred over him, he’d assumed. In the end, he’d been worried enough to show, as she’d undoubtedly known he would. He always had been a sucker for tears.