Edward arrived shortly after eleven the following morning, looking as though he’d skied straight in from the slopes in his dove gray down-filled jacket, black woolen hat, and wraparound reflective glasses. Callum let him in, helped stow his luggage in the hall, and took him through to the kitchen where Joely and her mother were preparing lunch.
Seeing how uncharacteristically harried he looked, Joely went straight to embrace him with her one good arm. “We were afraid it was going to turn into something more serious,” she told him, “but she seems calm enough. I think it’ll help her to see you, though.”
“Are you all right?” he asked, his blue eyes searching the injuries to her face with evident concern. “When I think what might have happened to you . . .”
“I’m OK,” Joely assured him, aware of Callum watching them. “Nothing that won’t heal.”
“I owe you an enormous apology,” he said. “If I’d had any idea she was going to do what she did . . .”
“It’s not your fault,” Joely told him gently. “Now let me introduce you. Callum, my husband, you’ve just met, and this is my mother, Marianne.”
Taking Marianne’s hand in both of his, Edward said, “I’m not aware of the whole story yet, but I do know that I need to apologize to you too . . .”
“No, really you don’t,” Marianne assured him with a smile. “I’m only glad you’re here. Holly, my granddaughter, has taken Freda to pick up the things she left at a hotel; they should be back an time now. Can we get you a coffee?”
“That would be great, thanks. And I’m sorry about my bags cluttering up your hall. I came straight here.”
“Let me take your coat,” Joely offered, admiring the expensive ski jacket and amused by his ruffled hair as he tugged off the hat and sunglasses.
Marianne took it all, while Callum brought over a coffee. “Milk and sugar on the island there,” he directed.
“Black is great,” Edward replied, and gratefully perched on the high stool Joely had maneuvered out for him. “I have to be honest,” he said, “I’m still trying to get my head around everything Callum told me yesterday. I mean, I knew I had an uncle who’d died young, and I’m pretty sure I knew it was suicide, but no one ever really talked about it, at least not to me.” He took a sip from the steaming mug and turned to Marianne. “I had no idea she was still so affected by David’s death,” he said, “although I guess it was the shock of losing my father and Doddoe a few years ago that stirred it all up again. She took that really hard; I’ve already told Joely about the breakdown she suffered afterward. She had treatment, of course, but when she came back from the clinic she shut herself up in that house and didn’t come out for weeks, months even. It got better, after a while she ventured into town or out for walks, and when she started writing again I felt sure she was turning a corner.” He shook his head in dismay. “How wrong I was, and you, Joely, got dragged into it . . . I understand now why she was so insistent that you were her ghostwriter. She obviously had it all worked out, or she thought she did anyway.”
Understanding how baffling and even embarrassing this all was for him, Joely reached out to squeeze his hand.
Treating her to a grateful smile, he turned to Marianne again. “I guess the only good part of this is finding out that I have a cousin.”
Marianne smiled as she nodded. “James, Jamie, is on his way over from Dublin. I think he’ll be glad to have you here when he meets his aunt for the first time.”
With feeling he said, “You mean his crazy aunt, given what’s happened, so I’m glad to be here. At least he’ll be able to see that there’s one sane guy in the family. And actually, she shouldn’t have to do it alone. I know you’re all supporting her, which is pretty amazing I have to say, considering what she’s put you through. There aren’t many people who’d want to help her after that, but she definitely needs help even if she won’t admit it. And I’m not only talking about her mental condition . . .” He eyes went to Joely. “I’m guessing she still hasn’t told you about the cancer?”
Joely’s eyes widened. “No, she hasn’t, but I thought there might be something . . .”
“She swore me to secrecy,” he said, “or I’d have told you before. She didn’t want anyone to know, and frankly, I thought you’d finish your project with her and be gone before it became serious so there was no reason for you to know. She probably won’t thank me for telling you now, but after all that’s happened . . . Please don’t think I’m using it to try and make excuses for her; she’s always been an unusual person, eccentric, a bit bonkers even, but I hadn’t realized quite how far she could go.”
Marianne said, “What kind of cancer is it?”
“Follicular lymphoma. She was diagnosed about a year ago, and actually, she doesn’t seem to have been too troubled by it so far. She takes medication, and has to go for regular checks, but mainly it makes her tired and sometimes light-headed.”
“So how serious it is?” Joely asked, feeling a sense of care given that there were so few people in Freda’s world.
He shook his head as he sighed. “The last time I spoke to her doctor he told me she needed to start accepting more treatment and at the moment she’s not agreeing to it.”
They all looked around at the sound of the front door opening, and as Freda’s laugh carried along the hall, Edward said quietly, “Please don’t mention . . .”
“Of course not,” Marianne assured him.
Getting to his feet he held out his arms as his aunt came into the kitchen and Joely couldn’t help feeling touched by how pleased she was to see him.
“Have I spoiled your holiday?” she asked as he hugged her.
“Completely,” he assured her.
She chuckled and pulled back to look at him. “I’ve caused a lot of bother, I’m afraid . . .”
“Bother?” he cried. “Is this your new line in understatements?”
She blinked and as a wave of sadness seemed to go through her she let her head fall forward onto his chest. “I miss them all so much,” she said quietly, “sometimes it gets too hard.”
“You’ve still got me,” he reminded her.
“And me,” Holly put in. To Edward she said, “Hi, I’m Holly, Freds’s new BFF.”
Freda looked up, sadness retreating. “Best friend forever,” she explained to her nephew, “just in case you didn’t know.”
Keeping an arm around her he shook Holly’s hand. “Thanks for taking care of her,” he said.
Holly shrugged. “She’s cool. Weird, but cool.”
Freda said, “She has no idea just how weird I can be, but we can save it for later.”
“I don’t think we need any more demonstrations,” he cautioned.
Taking the coffee Callum was handing her, she regarded him closely as she said, “You’re better looking than I was expecting you to be. Have I already told you that?”
Clearly quite pleased with the compliment, he said, “You didn’t, but it’s OK to mention it.”
“Oh God,” Holly groaned, “you need to work on your taste in men, Freds.”
“Do I? I’ll be guided by you.”
Laughing, Edward said to Joely, “So it seems we’re kind of related?” His tone was ironic, but there was a tinge of regret that amused her for the way it made Callum scowl.
“It would seem so,” she replied. “I haven’t actually worked out how . . .”
“You,” Holly told her, “are his cousin once removed, which,” she said to Edward, “makes you my uncle once removed and Freds my great-aunt with nothing removed, because we say so.”
As everyone laughed, Callum’s phone rang. Seeing who it was he said, “Seems like your other uncle’s just arrived in a taxi, and he only has euros. Now there’s a surprise.”
As Joely watched her brother come into the kitchen all long limbs, tousled fair hair, and merry, but cautious sea blue eyes, she saw straightaway how like Edward he was, apart from the coloring, and could have kicked herself for not realizing sooner that he, Jamie, was who Edward reminded her of.
She noticed Edward curl an arm around Freda’s shoulders as Jamie greeted his mother, the bond they shared as evident as the pleasure at seeing each other. He came to Joely next, careful not to treat her to one of his more boisterous squeezes, but putting a hand gently to her cheek as he gazed at her. “I’ve seen you looking better,” he decided, making her smile.
Not to be left out Holly pushed herself forward and was all but swept off her feet in the fiercest of uncle hugs.
“You get more beautiful every time I see you,” he told her, “and so tall.”
“I’m the same as Grandma now,” she informed him proudly, “although she might be shrinking.”
“Charming,” Marianne muttered, rolling her eyes, and as Callum stepped forward to remove Holly from the limelight, Marianne took Jamie’s hand in hers. “This is your cousin, Edward, and your aunt, Freda,” she told him, her eyes unexpectedly welling with tears.
Edward stepped forward to shake his cousin’s hand, and as the two men regarded each other with interest Joely couldn’t help wondering if they recognized the features they shared. “It’s good to meet you, Jamie,” Edward said warmly. “I confess it’s a surprise, but no less welcome for that.”
“It’s good to meet you too.” Jamie smiled, still holding Edward’s hand, or Edward was still holding his. Whatever, neither of them seemed in a hurry to let go. “Likewise with the surprise,” Jamie said in the droll tone Joely loved so much. “I’m looking forward to getting to know you.”
“That can definitely be arranged,” Edward assured him. He turned to Freda and as he pulled her in gently Joely knew from the look in her eyes that she wasn’t seeing a nephew, she was searching for David. She raised her hands to his face and cupped it tenderly.
“You’re like him,” she murmured. “Not as much as I expected, but enough for me to see him in you.”
“From everything I’ve heard,” Jamie said, “he was a pretty special bloke.”
Freda nodded. “I’m sorry you never met him.”
“I did when I was a baby,” he reminded her.
“But you’ve forgotten that. It mattered to him though. He didn’t turn his back on you the way the rest of us did. I’m ashamed, Jamie, for myself, my parents . . .”
“Don’t be,” he told her. “These things happen.”
Her hands were still on his face and noticing how they’d begun to shake, Joely said softly, “Why don’t you all go through and sit down while Callum and I finish making lunch?”
After they’d left the kitchen Joely sank onto one of the barstools and reached for Callum’s hand.
“Seems I came back in the nick of time,” he commented wryly.
Understanding what he meant she broke into a smile. “If he weren’t a relative,” she teased.
“I don’t think any blood’s involved, is it?” he pondered.
“Ah, so I could be free to pursue things?”
“No,” he replied without hesitation, “not free at all.”
It was gone five by the time they’d all eaten and drunk too much wine around the dining table, and though Freda was quieter than the others she seemed to be enjoying watching Jamie—and Marianne. Joely couldn’t help wondering what she was thinking, and smiled to herself as she imagined Freda warning her about second-guessing and jumping to conclusions. Still, it had to be about David, surely, and perhaps where they would all go from here.
She and Callum left without any fuss, they’d see everyone again tomorrow, although Holly had school in the morning so she’d be coming home by taxi later.
As Callum drove them through the darkening streets toward Notting Hill they talked about those they’d left at Marianne’s and where everyone might stay that night. Jamie, it was agreed, would take over the guest room Joely had vacated, and maybe Freda would remain in hers—or perhaps Edward would take her home with him. It wasn’t important; it was simply a way of filling the time until they arrived home.
The instant Joely walked through the glossy blue front door of their late Regency home she felt herself sinking into the familiar smells and warmth of the place and could hardly believe how long it seemed since she’d last been here. She breathed it in deeply as if it were a tonic, and watched the hall come to life as Callum turned on the lights. It was strangely as though she’d been told she’d never come home again, and yet here she was. Everything was exactly as she’d left it and she couldn’t think why that surprised her. She allowed Callum to help her off with her jacket and scarf and as he draped it with his own on the coat stand behind the door she looked around. The stairs with their intricate fretwork banister and railings rose up into the darkness of the landing, the paintings collected during holidays and rummages around flea markets created large splashes of color on the teal green walls. She could remember where they’d found each one and probably, at a push, how much they’d paid for it.
“Drink?” Callum offered, starting for the kitchen.
Since she’d only had half a glass of wine with lunch she decided she could indulge in another without causing too potent a mix with the painkillers, so she said, “A sauvignon blanc, if there is any.”
“Coming up.”
As she joined him in the kitchen with its cluttered, countrified air and double French doors leading onto the large wooden deck she felt as though time was concertinaing weeks into hours. Once again there were all their familiar things, Joely’s array of scented candles on the dresser, their favored cards slotted among china and colored bottles, jokes, photos, and drawings magnetized to the fridge, bags for life on their usual hook, Callum’s trainers beside the back door, next to her gardening shoes. She noticed a stack of mail on the table, addressed to her, along with a polling card for the local elections, and the navy cardigan she’d left over the back of a chair was still there. Her eyes moved to Callum’s usual pile of newspapers in front of the place he always sat, and on to Holly’s makeup bag spilling over her personalized placemat.
If it weren’t for the calendar showing the change of month she might never have been away.
“Here,” Callum said, handing her a glass of wine in one of the crystal glasses they usually saved for special occasions, “welcome home.” Actually, it was a special occasion, she decided, considering that when she’d left she hadn’t expected him to be here when she got back.
“Maybe I should be saying the same to you?” She smiled.
Though his eyes smiled back she could sense the undercurrent of his concerns as clearly as she could sense her own. They were alone now, there was much to be faced, and though she knew they loved each other, and wanted to be together, neither of them could say yet how much damage had been done. Of course they would want to repair it, she was certain he was as committed to that as she was, but she had still to tell him what she’d been holding back from him. Would he feel so committed then? They had deeply wronged each other and though they might want to forgive, she knew that betrayal could act like a slow-growing cancer on a marriage, eating away at the heart of it until it could no longer survive.
“Are you up to talking now?” he asked, regarding her closely. “You look pretty tired and I’ve already told them I won’t be at work tomorrow.”
She was tired, and the pain each time she moved seemed to be getting worse rather than better, but she wasn’t going to allow herself to put this off any longer. “Let’s at least start talking now,” she said, pulling out a chair to sit down. It didn’t ease the throbbing in her shoulder, but it was good to get off her feet. She wondered fleetingly if the discomfort was going to make it hard to think straight, but since she was OK for the moment she watched him sit down and said, “There’s something I should have told you a while ago. I wanted to . . . Actually that’s not true, I didn’t want to. I hoped you’d never have to know, but keeping it from you is, I know, what caused things to go wrong between us. I was so scared, so worried . . . I could hardly make myself look at you, or speak to you . . . I wanted to shut you out, or shut myself away . . .”
“Joely,” he said softly, “you’re not making much sense.”
Aware that she wasn’t she stared down at her glass and saw in its reflection everything she’d never wanted to see again, the bar, the faces, the stairs, the many rooms, the taxi, the search for her handbag, her phone . . .
“Why were you scared?” he prompted.
Deciding that the only way to do this was to come right out with it, she braced herself and said, “I slept with someone. I mean, I had sex with him. I don’t know his name, it only happened once, but it happened and I’ve hardly been able to live with myself since. I know to some people that might not seem a big deal, but it was to me. I became terrified that I might have caught something, or what if I was pregnant? What would I say to you? I couldn’t let you think it was yours if it might not be. I wouldn’t be able to give it up . . .”
“Were you pregnant?” he asked.
She shook her head. “No! But I still couldn’t live with the fact that I’d done it, that I’d brought something like it into our home.” Seeing his eyes widen she rushed on, “Not right inside, it didn’t happen here, please don’t think that, but the shame was in me, the knowledge that I was capable of being that sort of person. I couldn’t tell you about it. I didn’t want you to feel ashamed too, or disgusted, or tainted even.” She pressed a hand to her head as the irrational panic of that time spread through her again. “He could have killed me,” she cried, “or followed me and threatened Holly. Anything could have happened, and I kept thinking that it would. Every time the phone rang, or someone knocked on the door I was terrified it might be him. It never was, I don’t think he has any idea where I live; he probably doesn’t know my name either, but I couldn’t be sure of that.” She stopped, not wanting to go any further, even though she knew she’d have to.
“Can you be sure of it now?” he asked quietly.
She nodded and shook her head. “I think so. Yes . . . I . . .”
“How long ago did it happen?”
“It was about six weeks after Dad died. Do you remember you had to go to Glasgow for a conference, and Holly stayed with Mum while I had a night out with my agent and a few of his other clients. We went for something to eat at the Ivy and afterward a few of us carried on to Soho House. I got so drunk . . . I’m not sure how much I had, but it seemed to affect me much more than it usually does. I was out of control. I hardly even knew where I was, much less what I was doing.”
“And that’s where you met him?”
“I know you’re thinking it could be someone you know, but I don’t think it was. He never mentioned you and nor did I.”
His expression remained grim as he regarded her. “So what happened exactly?” he asked.
Her eyes closed as she flashed on the where and how, the crazed groping on a sofa in the club, the taxi to a hotel, the room, the bed, clothes all over the floor, her lost handbag, and phone . . . “Please don’t make me go into the details,” she groaned. “It’s hard enough telling you this much, and it didn’t mean anything. Nothing at all.”
He didn’t press her, and she realized he was probably no keener to know the intimate minutiae than she was to describe it. “Does anyone else know about it?” he asked.
“I don’t think so. My agent might have seen me flirting with him, but the others all left before I did. I swear to God I don’t know what came over me. It was like all my boundaries just disappeared . . . I wasn’t thinking about anything or anyone. I . . . I . . .” She halted not knowing what else to say that she wanted to put into words, or that he’d want to hear.
“So where did it happen?” he asked. “You say it wasn’t here, so where was it?”
Another flash to the hauntingly decadent image of it. “Does it matter?” she countered.
“I don’t know, you tell me.”
She shook her head. “It doesn’t,” she replied with feeling. “I swear it doesn’t.”
He picked up his glass and took a large mouthful of the pale gold-colored wine. Seconds ticked by, drifting like a chill wind over the potential of how destructive this could be, fracturing the trust they’d always taken for granted. She was capable of being someone he didn’t know, someone who’d cheapen herself after too much to drink and how could he be sure she wouldn’t do it again? For all he knew she could have been fulfilling some long-held fantasy and now she’d had a taste of it . . . Of course she could remind him of what he’d done with Martha, that he’d broken the sanctity of their marriage too, but she knew in her heart that it wouldn’t have happened if she hadn’t pushed him away the way she had.
In the end he said, “So let me get this straight, you stopped sleeping with me because you’d had sex with a stranger?”
She nodded. “But it wasn’t only the sex—”
His hand went up. “If that’s all that happened you could, you should have told me. Is it all that happened?”
“Yes, apart from being afraid of a disease, a pregnancy . . .”
“You didn’t see him again, or try to find out who he was?”
“No! All I wanted was to forget him, and try to carry on as though it hadn’t happened, but I couldn’t. My conscience wouldn’t let me. I hated myself for what I’d done, I felt so sick of myself, every time I looked in the mirror, or saw you looking at me . . . It was there. It wouldn’t let me go.”
“You should have told me,” he said darkly. “You know me, I’d have understood and tried to help you. I was aware of how much you were struggling with your father’s death . . .”
“I can’t use that as an excuse,” she cried. “I know you’re going to say that my emotions were all over the place and they were, and drinking so much obviously didn’t help . . . It was like I was trying to blot it all out, but I can’t, I won’t blame it on my father.”
“Not on him,” Callum corrected, “on the way you were reacting to losing him. Like you said, your emotions were running high, your boundaries—”
“I don’t want to tie the two together,” she protested. “It’s like I’m dishonoring his memory . . .”
“Joely, stop. You of all people know how grief can affect a person, how different, even crazy it can make someone. For heaven’s sake, isn’t that what these last weeks with Freda have all been about? She doesn’t have an exclusive on it, you know?”
Joely inhaled a sob and reached for her glass. She didn’t drink; she said, “According to Edward, Freda’s always been odd. I don’t think we can say that about me.”
“But like anyone else when they’re under stress you’re capable of acting out of character. You had one incident, a serious one, it’s true, but it’s not something that we can allow to become more important than it is. We have to put it behind us, Joely. Do you think you can do that?”
She wanted to, more than anything, and now she’d told him . . .
Without waiting for an answer he said, “I should have realized something like it had happened. You’ve never gone cold on me like that before, and so soon after Lionel’s death . . . But I’m always so busy and I kept thinking you’d get over the loss eventually.”
“I did,” she insisted. “I mean, actually I don’t think I ever will, because no one does when you’ve loved someone so much and they’ve been such a big part of your life, but I definitely started to find it easier to deal with than what I’d done.”
“And then what did I do? I turned to your best friend for advice on our marriage and look how well that went.”
She inwardly winced.
He went to fetch more wine and refilled his glass. “As I see it,” he said, sitting down again, “the greater crime here is mine, by a long way, although I should come clean about this: moving in with Martha was always meant to be temporary. It was an idea that she had—and I went along with—to try and bring you to your senses. She thought if I left you you’d fight to make me stay and somehow this would sort things out between us.”
Joely blinked incredulously.
“I know, I know,” he groaned, “I can hear how ridiculous that sounds now I’m saying it, but I was at my wits’ end and frankly I was prepared to try anything if I thought it would bring us back together.”
“So you allowed her to manipulate you, to trick you . . . I hope you realize that that’s what she did . . .”
“Of course I do, why do you think I came back as soon as I did? I should never have gone, obviously, but even you have to admit that we couldn’t have gone on the way we were.”
She wouldn’t argue with that, because he was right, but for him to have fallen for Martha’s blatantly self-serving answer to his problem when he’d always known she had designs on him was still hard to credit. In the end she said, “So did you sleep with her?”
He didn’t meet her eyes as he nodded.
“And not just once?”
“No, not just once, but maybe we can agree that details aren’t going to help the situation now.”
No, they wouldn’t, and realizing she didn’t want them any more than he did she said, “Can I take it it’s over between you now?”
It was his turn to look incredulous. “Do you think I’d be sitting here if it weren’t? Like I said, the plan was always for me to go there for a few days and come back here as soon as you went off on assignment.”
She regarded him steadily. “But you slept with her.”
He couldn’t deny it, and she could see the shame and regret burning in his eyes. Perhaps it was a reflection of what was in hers, except he hadn’t been drunk, nor had he just suffered a painful bereavement. He’d been struggling to save his marriage and in so doing had slept with another woman. There was no logic to it, no excusing it either.
“And the romantic weekend away that you didn’t invite Holly to?” she asked.
“It never happened, and it was never going to. I told Holly we were going away so she wouldn’t be around while I told Martha that I’d made a terrible mistake and that there was never going to be anything between us.”
Joely’s heart remained hard. “Have you heard from her since?”
Sighing, he pushed his phone across the table. “She’s texted a few times, but only to find out if I’ve made things up with you. You can read the messages if you like.”
Not touching the phone, she said, “That sounds as though she’s still living in hope that we might not make it.”
He appeared genuinely surprised. “Why? I don’t understand—”
“Maybe you need to be a woman to see through that sort of artifice.”
Still appearing vaguely perplexed, he said, “All I can tell you is that I made it pretty clear that I was going to do everything in my power to try and make things work with you, but even if I didn’t succeed I wouldn’t be going back to her.”
Joely nodded slowly, imagining how Martha must have felt when he’d told her that, and how she was probably feeling now. It was hard to believe that her best friend had created such a devious and desperate plan to try and steal her husband. She must surely have known it would never work, and yet on some level she’d clearly believed that it would. And indeed for a while it must have looked as though things were going her way.
“So,” he said softly, “do you think we can get through this?”
As her eyes went to his she felt her emotions shifting and falling into all the places they belonged, and yet some remained trapped in the cracks that had inevitably opened up between them. She thought of Freda and how so many betrayals followed by forgiveness had devastated her over and over again, but Callum wasn’t that sort of a man. In the end she said, “I don’t think we’d be sitting here talking like this if we weren’t ready to try, do you?”
He smiled and she sensed the relief going through him. Reaching a hand across the table for hers he entwined their fingers and said, “Is this the point where we ask if we can forgive each other for what we’ve done?”
She glanced down at their hands and back to his eyes. “I think we can both forgive,” she said, “but I don’t think we’ll ever forget.”
He shook his head. “I don’t suppose we will, but maybe we can make that a good thing. It’ll remind us of where we could end up if we don’t talk to each other.”
Liking his answer she pulled on his hand and as he got up to come around to her side of the table she tried to stand too.
Helping her up, he held her against him and put his mouth very close to hers. “We can continue this tomorrow if you like, but right now I think I need to take you to bed.”
“Yes,” she replied softly, “you really do.”