‘We’re not kids any more,’ Jack says, his thumb circling slowly on the base of my back. ‘You’re Oscar’s wife. I watched you marry him, Laurie.’
I try to recapture the feeling of my wedding day, but all my treacherous heart can conjure up is Jack’s speech.
‘Do you ever think what if …’ I stop, because his lips brush briefly against the skin beneath my ear as he bends his head to shush me. I’m shamed by the sharp twist of lust that stabs through me, all the way from my ear to the pit of my stomach. It takes my breath; I want him with a force that frightens me.
‘Of course I’ve wondered what if,’ he says, so low and intimate that his words slide straight into my veins. ‘But we know what if, Lu. We tried it once before, remember? We kissed and it made everything worse for both of us.’
‘Of course I remember,’ I breathe. I’ll remember to the day I die.
He adjusts our hands, his fingers warm around mine.
And then he looks down at me, and his eyes say all the things he cannot. His gaze holds mine as we dance slowly, and I silently tell him that I’ll always carry him in my heart, and he silently tells me that in another place, another time, we’d have been pretty damn close to perfect.
‘For what it’s worth –’ his hand slips into my hair and he strokes his thumb along my jaw – ‘and because we’re finally being honest with each other, you’re just about my favourite person in the world, and it was the single most spectacular kiss of my whole life.’
I’m lost. Lost in his words, and his arms, and in what might have been.
‘We could …’ I start, but I don’t say more, because we both know we can’t.
‘Don’t,’ he says. ‘We’re all where we should be.’
I start to cry; too much wine, too much emotion, too much of my life walking out the door tonight. He gathers me close and presses his lips to my ear.
‘Don’t cry,’ he says. ‘I love you, Laurie James.’
I look up, unsure how to read his words, and he looks away.
‘Jack?’
I turn at the sound of Amanda’s voice as she weaves towards us through the dancers.
‘Okay?’ She looks from Jack to me, eyebrows raised in enquiry, and I dash my hands across my wet cheeks.
‘Sorry. Emotional wreck,’ I gulp, shaky. ‘Ignore me, it’s the wine. I’m just upset about Sarah leaving.’ I glance quickly at Jack, not quite meeting his eyes. ‘Sorry about your damp shirt. Send me the dry-cleaning bill.’
Wearily, I let myself into the flat and strip off for bed. Considering the amount of wine I’ve had, I’m suddenly as sober as a judge. I’ve been over and over the things we said tonight, and I’m shamed by how easily the bedrock of my marriage crumbled under pressure. The truth is that I’ve walked around the edge of being in love with Jack for too many years. It’s made me realize something inevitable, something that’s been a long time coming: he and I would be better off without each other.
I need to unwind the roots of Jack O’Mara from my life. He’s too much a part of who I am, and me a part of him. The problem with uprooting things is that sometimes it kills them altogether, but that’s a risk I have to take. For the sake of my marriage; for the sake of all of us.
12 September
Laurie
‘You’re sure there’s not some specific reason for this get-together?’ I ask Oscar as the cab turns into Lucille’s road.
Oscar frowns and shakes his head without answering. I’m not surprised; I’ve asked him the same question several times already since we were summoned a week ago for ‘casual summer drinks’ at his mother’s. Lucille never has casual summer drinks. I’m glad Oscar’s been able to clear his diary for his mother, even if he finds it difficult to do the same thing for me.
‘Perhaps she’s going to make a surprise announcement,’ I suggest. ‘Retiring to Spain?’
He rolls his eyes. It’s selfish of me really; I of all people should be able to appreciate the fact that having your parents around is important. And, truth be told, she’s not quite so overbearing these days. She’s softened towards me a lot since Dad died. She’ll never think I’m quite good enough for her precious youngest boy, but I don’t think anyone could be.
‘So who’s going to be here?’ I accept his hand as he helps me down on to the pavement and pays the driver.
‘No clue.’ He links his arm through mine as we walk towards Lucille’s shiny black front door in the balmy evening sunshine. ‘Family. A few friends. I think Mum’s been feeling quite isolated since the op.’
Lucille had a knee operation in July, and although it was routine, she’s had Oscar doing her bidding more than ever. It’s uncharitable of me to think she’s hamming it up to keep him concerned, but I think she’s hamming it up to keep him concerned. I can say it inside my head, at least.
‘You’ll have to ring the bell,’ I say, looking down at the expensive bunch of flowers I have in one hand and the fancy bottle of red in the other.
He obliges, and moments later Gerry swings the door open to let us in. I’m pleased to see him; he’s the closest thing I’ve got to an ally amongst Oscar’s family.
‘People! Enter,’ he booms, kissing me as I pass. ‘Everyone’s in the garden.’
Lucille has a gorgeous orangery on the back of her house, and we find it already full with neighbours, distant relations and her fellow ladies who lunch.
‘Darlings, you’re here!’ Lucille appears, sailing across the room when she spots us. Oscar hugs her, and I hand the gifts over as she turns to me. It’s a practised move, one I’ve perfected to get past the ‘hello’ moment; give someone flowers, no need for awkward air kisses. But Lucille only looks at them and smiles politely, then shoves them back towards me.
‘Be a darling and go and pop them in some water in the kitchen, would you, dear?’
Darling? Dear? She may still be treating me like the kitchen maid, but these are new and encouraging words in her vocabulary as far as I’m concerned. We might actually be getting somewhere. Lucille makes a beeline for the garden with Oscar on her arm, leaving me to do as I’ve been asked.
I’m arranging the flowers in a vase I found under the sink when Cressida slinks in. Fabulous. Thank you, Lucille. I’ve somehow managed to never exchange more than a word or two with her; even at our wedding I got away with just thanking her for coming. Until now, I thought she was as keen to avoid contact as I was.
‘Hello, Laurie, how nice to see you here.’
‘It’s lovely to see you again, Cressida,’ I lie. ‘How are you finding Brussels?’
Her dentist poster smile falters; I can only imagine that she wanted to drop her presence over there into conversation herself. ‘Fantastic!’ she gushes. ‘I mean, we’re busy, but we work hard, play hard, yah?’
‘Yah,’ I murmur. Why is it I always find myself imitating posh people? ‘I can imagine.’
‘Have you ever been to Brussels?’
I shake my head. You’d think I’d have been out there by now, but Oscar always says he prefers to come home. I turn to look around the kitchen for a likely spot to deposit the flowers. As I move to place them in the centre of the table, Cressida lunges.