After a weekend of worrying myself sick, on Monday morning, while my team is emptying the house of the last dregs of Vanessa’s stuff, I am once again working like mad sourcing out more reclaimed tiles for the bathrooms, faucets and wallpaper.
Gabe has not called with any news about Vanessa, and I’m beginning to seriously worry. Has she had an accident? Is she ill? I am completely clueless.
Or… and here we go again with the doubts. Is he simply being lazy? Evasive? He knows I have anxiety and abandonment issues. Yes, I know they’re only mine to solve, but you’d think that for someone who claims to love me, he’d be a bit more attentive. Why do her needs always supersede mine? Why does she always find a way to get priority over me, whether it’s because he’s dumped me, or because she’s in hospital. Okay, I admit it. I’m downright jealous. Why do I feel like she always has the upper hand, even now that he’s chosen to come back to me?
As I’m musing on that, Thea saunters into the room, barking into her mobile. ‘No, Rudy, not after lunch – do it now, you lazy bugger.’ Then she snaps the phone shut and beams at me. She won’t admit it yet, but she’s smitten with him, too. And rightfully so. Rudy is adorable, with a great sense of humour. And he’s also honest – which is why he does my payroll.
‘Imagine if I spoke to him like that,’ I say.
She shrugs and flashes me her diamantéed smile through her dark lipstick. ‘I think he loves me.’
I laugh. ‘He’d have to, to put up with that kind of verbal abuse.’
‘You should try it with Gabe,’ she says, raising her eyebrow at me.
I frown. ‘Try what?’
She rolls her eyes. ‘Cracking the whip. God knows he’ll need it more than ever now that he’s been with that feral freak.’
As she picks up her pile of paperwork and goes into the living room, I begin to wonder – does the entire world see me as a pushover?
I have, let’s say, done the guiding in our relationship. I was the one who got him an agent, and a rather good one, if I may say so myself. And every decision that Gabe made for his career, he discussed it with me first. Because he trusted my grounded common sense.
Even though he threw a strop when I cancelled the order for solid gold toilets. I mean, really. The white goods already present in the loos were very high end already.
If it weren’t for me we’d have twenty Porsches in the drive. Gabe never really had any money while growing up, so he sort of lost the plot when the first six-figured royalties started coming in. Whereas I had learnt from an early age to not rely on anything at all – wealth or family. They don’t last forever. Treat it all as fleeting, and when it’s all gone it might just hurt a tad less. You might be overwhelmed when it’s all gone, but at least you won’t be surprised.
‘We’re bloody rich now, Faith, and it’s all thanks to you! I’m going to buy you a friggin’ country!’ he’d sworn, spinning me around.
‘Let’s just settle for a house,’ I’d laughed.
‘I’ll buy you any house you want, anywhere in the world!’
My heart had skipped a beat. Yes! A home. Finally! ‘Thank you, Gabe. You choose – I don’t really mind.’
‘You love the sea, right? We’ll buy one on the beach, then!’
‘On one condition,’ I’d said. ‘I get to contribute.’
He’d laughed. ‘Babe – that’s ridiculous – what’s mine is yours. You know that.’
‘Gabe, thank you. But I don’t want to be the rock star’s kept girlfriend.’
‘Bollocks to that,’ he’d said. ‘You are the love of my life and I owe you everything. If it weren’t for you I’d still be dipping cod in batter at the chippy.’
‘Don’t say that, Gabe. You are immensely talented and deserve all your success. But I need to contribute. For my own dignity. Okay?’
He’d rolled his eyes. ‘Fine!’
And for an entire week we went beach house hunting along the South Cornish coast.
There had been a four-bed Arts and Crafts beauty on a hill above Little Kettering, and a cosy three-bed cottage on the harbour of Starry Cove with a gorgeous back garden full of flowers, and another three-bed detached surrounded by tall trees in Penworth Ford. But Gabe had vetoed them all because they weren’t expensive enough.
‘This,’ he’d countered, poking at a catalogue called Prestigious Properties in Cornwall, ‘is the one for us! “Beautiful beach house high up on the cliffs, with stone steps going down to the beach.”’
‘Ooh, let me see? It’s gorgeous, Gabe. But… it’s three million pounds!’
‘So? Don’t we deserve it?’
As much as that was my dream home, I remember panicking. ‘Why don’t we buy something less expensive for now, and wait to see how your next album goes, and then maybe upgrade if we really want to?’
And then he’d suddenly slammed the catalogue down, glaring at me. ‘You don’t think my next album will be a hit?’
‘Of course I do, Gabe. I believe in you – you know that. But this is a very fickle business. So let’s not count our chicks before they’ve hatched, okay?’
He’d gone silent, then finally nodded, raking a beringed hand through his blond spikes. ‘You’re right. What would I do without your business sense, eh?’
But the very next week, at the news that his album had hit platinum, he’d called the estate agent and booked a viewing. And only when we got there, did I recognise the views and realise it was the same house my parents had vacationed in. The same house where my father had abandoned my mother.
*
The next afternoon, there is still no news from Gabe. God, I could throttle him sometimes. I have a mind to call him and demand information. But I’m also afraid I might not like it. I’m not one to procrastinate or hide from reality, but sometimes being with Gabe is like riding a bloody rollercoaster.
Even now, as I sit in the boardroom, i.e. Gabe’s office, taking notes, my mind is seesawing between There is a Perfectly Good Explanation and I Just Knew It! Luckily I have a lovely distraction – I am responsible for Orson as Henry has just popped into town. He is humming as he works on a little project of his own. He is truly a lovely, obedient little boy. I only hope he doesn’t grow up too fast and become an annoying bloke.
‘Faith! Can I please—’ Orson calls as he runs into the boardroom, stumbling and scraping his knee against the door hinge. ‘Aaah…’
I jump to my feet as he lands on his knees. ‘Orson…’
God, this is so not the place for a six-year-old to run around. I should reinspect it and cover anything that he could get snagged on. The alternative is to not allow him to come, but the thought of not seeing this little face anymore makes something inside my chest twinge.
‘Are you okay, sweetheart?’
‘It’s nothing,’ he says bravely. ‘Just a little scrape.’
‘Let me check it,’ I say, grabbing the first aid pouch from the cupboard. ‘Come, sit.’
I sit in my chair, pulling out one for him, but instead, taking me completely by surprise, he climbs into my lap, nestling himself in the crook of my arm like a tiny hatchling in his nest in the most tender of gestures. I swallow, utterly overwhelmed by this spontaneous gesture of trust.
‘I wish you were my mummy, Faith.’ He sighs sadly, looking up at me with spaniel eyes. His father’s same dark eyes.
I freeze. ‘That’s very sweet of you, Orson, but I’m sure your own mummy loves you very much.’
He shrugs. ‘I dunno. She’s never kind to me like you are. You don’t yell at me.’
I can’t imagine anyone yelling at this darling little angel.
‘What does… your daddy say about that? Does she yell at you in front of him?’
‘Not really, only when we’re alone. When I’m with Daddy, he takes care of me. But I don’t think my mummy is a very good mummy. Not as good as my friends’ mummies.’
I bite my lip as I apply some disinfectant to his knee, gently blow on it and put a plaster on it.
‘There you go. Better?’ I ask.
He nods, still gazing up at me lovingly. ‘Better, thank you, Faith.’
And just like that, I’m in absolute, complete love. This little boy reminds me so much of myself, and how I needed someone’s approval at his age.
When Henry later comes in laden with boxes full of cupboard handle samples, he places them carefully down as Orson rushes to meet him.
‘Hey, mate,’ he says, ruffling his mop of dark hair and noticing his knee. ‘What happened? How did you get hurt?’
‘It’s nothing, Daddy. I scraped my knee when I fell.’
Henry’s face instantly loses colour as he bends down to examine his son more closely. ‘You fell? Where?’
‘I scraped my knee on the hinge of a door. It’s nothing, Daddy. Faith cleaned it up for me and even blew on it so it wouldn’t burn.’
‘It’s fine, Henry, really,’ I assured him. ‘Just a tiny scrape is all. He’s already up and running again, see? Although we had a little chat about the running part, didn’t we, Orson?’
Orson nods. ‘I promise not to run anymore and to look where I’m going, Faith.’
‘Good boy,’ I say.
Orson looks up at Henry who is watching us in silence. From the looks of him, I don’t think he’s used to anyone else helping out with stuff like this. I can tell he’s used to doing everything on his own. It must be difficult, to go from a proper team to doing everything solo.
‘Can I go, Daddy? I want to watch Bob put in the new piping. He said I could help if I follow his safety rules.’
Henry’s face lights up with pride. ‘Of course you can, mate. Don’t forget to put on your safety gear and work gloves.’
‘I won’t!’ he calls as he rushes off and I realise we are both beaming at him.
Henry turns to me. ‘It’s completely my fault for not covering the hinges when I took the doors off. I’m so anal about health and safety and I actually forgot to proof the place for my own boy.’
‘Stop, Henry. Accidents happen all the time, but we sorted it.’
‘You’re very good to him,’ Henry says, visibly touched. ‘Thank you.’
‘He’s such a sweetheart. Who wouldn’t love him?’
A muscle in his jaw faintly shifts. ‘Yes, well.’
And there they are again, those two words. For such an articulate and intelligent man, that’s all he can say when he is upset. But I’ve come to understand the magnitude behind those two words. I have come to understand that they are not uttered through indifference, but only when he is overwhelmed. Those two words that mean nothing per se, mean everything to him.
‘Shall we have a look at those handle samples?’ he says, snapping out of it.
‘Ooh yes please, Henry.’
And he switches back from doting father to joiner in a split second. It’s amazing how many people inhabit Henry Turner. Father, husband, joiner, boss, furniture designer, friend, adviser, cheerer-upper. I am truly beginning to see the man behind the good looks.
*
It has been a long day. The boys are sorting out the electrics and the plumbing, but we’re still a long way off. The amount of damage that has been done to this house in the space of six months is unfathomable.
‘That’s great work, guys,’ I say as we are wrapping up for the day. ‘Thea? Before I forget – leave the second guest bedroom empty.’
‘Empty for what?’ she wants to know.
I wag a finger at her, unable to hide a smile.
She gasps. ‘Faith! A nursery? Are you – how?’
I laugh, and it feels good, after all this time. ‘Pregnant? Not yet.’ If I can ever get Gabe to come back from Thailand, that is.
‘Oh my God!’ Thea cries, hugging me. ‘I knew he’d come round, that old dog! I’m on it! Just let me know what you want and—’
‘Actually, Thea, if you don’t mind, I’d like to take care of this on my own.’
‘Of course!’ she hisses under her breath, beaming at me. ‘Oh, Faith, I’m so happy for you! Mummy’s very first nursery!’
‘Thank you. Well, I guess then we can call it a day.’
‘See ya,’ the boys call as they make their way out and Thea and I watch them go. My team.
‘I’m out of here, see you,’ Thea says and disappears as Henry sidles up into the doorway, having taken Orson home earlier that afternoon.
‘Hey,’ he says. ‘Faith. Do you ever actually stop working?’
‘Of course,’ I say wearily, running a hand through my hair that feels like a rat’s nest. When was the last time I washed it? Come to think of it, when was the last time I showered, even?
Henry studies me. ‘This house is everything to you, isn’t it?’
I huff, annoyed that Gabe doesn’t get it and someone I’ve just met does. ‘Yes. It’s my first real home. My sister and I were orphaned very early. We lived mostly between foster parents.’
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t know. But I understand why it’s so important to you. You feel safe here, don’t you?’
I swallow. ‘Yes.’
‘I know. I’ll bet that’s why you came up with the Home Hugs?’
My eyes swing to his. How could he know things like that? ‘That’s right.’
‘You see, Faith – all art is bred from emotion. You’ve got plenty of that in you. Use it to your benefit.’
‘I guess you’re right. You’re so wise, Henry.’
Our eyes meet and for a moment it’s suddenly like I’ve known him forever. Not in the sense of years, but in the sense of… depth. He sustains my gaze and I’m sure he’s thinking the same, but then he rubs the back of his neck and stuffs his hands into his pockets. ‘Nah. I’m just as much of a fool as your next bloke. Come on, let’s grab a bite to eat, look at some other human beings for a change. I have a feeling you haven’t seen a new face or eaten real food since you started this job.’
I debate with myself. It’s true that I haven’t had an evening out in months. And once Gabe gets back, if he ever does, I envisage lots and lots of nights in.
‘I promise I’ll take you wherever you want to go, we’ll have a nice meal and I’ll bring you back here the second you ask me to, assuming I don’t bore the hell out of you sooner. What do you say, Faith?’ He joins his hands in prayer. ‘Please? I’m starving.’
I grin back at him. ‘Oh, go on then.’
He flashes me a huge smile. ‘Brilliant.’
‘Just give me a minute to change,’ I say, heading to Gabe’s music room where all my stuff is.
I slip off my work gear and straight into my favourite blue wool dress and a pair of ankle boots and grab my bag, make sure the keys and purse are in there and skip down the stairs, realising that, actually, I’m looking forward to it.
Henry is waiting by the car out front and opens the door for me. ‘Thanks, Henry. Oh, wait. I can’t remember if the back door is locked.’
‘I locked it. And I closed all the shutters, turned on the lights and set the alarm,’ he answers. ‘Always better to be safe than sorry. By the way, you look pretty.’
‘Thanks. Is that by the way connected to the safe or the sorry?’ I blurt out before I can stop myself. Gosh, now it sounds like I’m fishing for compliments. Because I am, in case you didn’t know, the Queen of Putting Her Foot in her Mouth.
He slides me an amused glance. ‘Neither, you silly sausage. Ready?’
I nod as I get in and put my seatbelt on. When I’m done, he nods with satisfaction and manoeuvres out of the drive and onto the main road and I relax in the comfortable seat.
‘We’ve done well today, haven’t we?’ I say.
He looks at me. ‘Yes, very well. I’ll bet you can’t wait to start your new life.’
‘Yes,’ I say with a grin. ‘So tell me about you and Gabe. When did you meet?’
‘Oh God, a gazillion years ago. We went to school together, then we went our separate ways and lost track of each other until about ten years ago.’
‘It’s so odd our paths have never crossed before,’ I muse.
‘Not really,’ he says as he slows down at an intersection. ‘Gabe and I were never as close again.’
‘But he must still think highly of you if he asked you to help him sell the beach house. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have done that. Trust me, Gabe doesn’t suffer fools gladly.’
He sneaks me a terse glance. ‘Yes, well.’
‘Yes, well. You say that a lot,’ I observe.
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘And that, too. You have this way of not revealing much about yourself.’
He laughs. ‘Nah, I’m quiet, is all.’
‘Selectively so,’ I say.
He raises a questioning eyebrow at me before he looks back at the road.
‘I mean, you have so much to say on the job, but on a personal level, you don’t give much away. Not that I’m expecting you to,’ I hastily add.
He laughs and I notice he has a beautiful profile and fine features. Up close he looks much younger, with flawless skin. And he has a nice smile. Like Orson. You can tell he’s a good person. I can’t imagine why he and Gabe wouldn’t get along anymore.
We come to a narrow lane with hedges scratching either sides of the Jeep, and I wonder why someone doesn’t take action to make the lanes wider, or even put in a proper road. But then, it wouldn’t be Cornwall anymore if things changed.
Up ahead, an oncoming car appears over the hillock, and Henry slows down, pulling as far left as he can to let the other vehicle through. The driver raises a hand in thanks and disappears.
‘I’m glad you’re driving,’ I whisper as the other man squeezes past us and Henry laughs. A hearty, good-natured laugh.
I turn to look at him. ‘Are you always this nice?’
‘Letting someone go first is being nice?’ he replies.
I shrug. ‘I think so.’
He snorts. ‘I’d hate to see what you think is mean, then.’
‘No, you wouldn’t,’ I reply before I can stop myself.
He looks over at me once again, his eyes delving into mine, but does not ask.
Before I know it, we’re in Mylor Bridge, at an old eatery called Persephone’s Cove. It is a huge former pilchard-salting house with a jetty into the sea. This evening the tide is out and the gulls are on the mooch in the crab pools, all the same keeping an eye out for leftovers at the tables. Judging by the amazing reputation of the food here, I wouldn’t hold my breath for them.
As it turns out, it is freakishly warm for January, so the staff have brought out tables and chairs. We sit down at one at the end of the jetty and watch a group of children. They are all muddy and as happy as Larry jumping on and off into the mud pools while looking for tiny crabs. The parents are only a few tables away, confident that they are safe, and the look of pure bliss on their faces makes me smile.
Immediately a waiter comes to take our order.
‘Scallops for me, please,’ I say.
‘Hm,’ Henry says. ‘I’ll have the same, thank you.’
The waiter smiles and marches up the jetty and back inside.
‘Fancy a pint while we wait?’ Henry says.
‘Water for me, please,’ I answer.
He looks at me funny, but it’s only a moment. I know he’s guessed about my old drinking problem and I’m grateful he’s not bringing it up. ‘Be right back.’
I follow him with my eyes all the way up the jetty. He is taller than I thought, and his gait is relaxed but elegant, speaking of a quiet confidence. The exact opposite of Gabe’s fair, delicate beauty.
I don’t know Henry all that well, but one thing is for sure: he is good at what he does. And he seems to get along well with my team, so so far so good. But I still can’t see him and Gabe being mates. And I still don’t understand why Gabe had never mentioned him to me before.
I sit back with my eyes closed, listening to the children squealing in delight at the sighting of a crab. When Hope and I were little, no one had ever taken us to the beach, but we used to sneak off on our own. Once we got very close to the coast before the police snapped us up and brought us back to… I can’t even remember which family we were staying with, or even the name of the town. I used to remember each and every family in sequential order, along with the addresses and even the names of their pets. But now, it’s all lost in the mist. Which can only be a good thing, Hope says.
We had always been starved for everything and anything a child should experience, and even today, Hope still yearns to live on the beach. Once we’re sorted, I’ll invite her to stay for the summer. The kids will love it. I know Gabe won’t mind, although it’ll be a bit uncomfortable if Hope doesn’t decide to accept him back into my life.
He’s not exactly too keen on her, either, and it’s a shame, because the two adults I love the most should be able to spend an evening together without trying too hard while I’m cringing. I need to speak to him about it because sometimes Gabe can be a bit insensitive.
‘Here we are, water for you, and for me a beer, just as cold as your ex’s heart.’
I open my eyes. ‘I beg your pardon?’
Henry slides into his seat opposite me, realising what he’s just said. ‘Sorry – that’s what the sign says just outside the entrance. I figure it doesn’t include exes who have reconciled.’
‘Ha,’ is all I can think of saying as I take a sip. ‘May I ask, how well do you know Gabe?’
Henry swallows his mouthful. ‘Fairly well, I’d say.’
‘Really? So you know his parents and all?’
‘Yes, absolutely.’
‘What are they like?’
He swallows his sip. ‘You’ve never met them?’
I shake my head, realising how pathetic it sounds. ‘I’d hinted at it once or twice in the past, but they hate each other and live at opposite ends of the world, so…’ And then it suddenly dawns on me. ‘Perhaps he meant that they would hate me.’
Henry’s brow furrows. ‘What do you mean?’
I shrug. ‘I don’t know. Maybe they expect any girlfriend to be a gold digger.’
‘But weren’t you an item even before he became famous? Plus you’re doing very well on your own steam, I’ve heard.’
‘Yes,’ I answer, omitting to add that I was the one who had actually sent his demo to ClapTrack Records in the first place. ‘But he is the famous and rich one,’ I explain. ‘I’m only an interior designer – what could I possibly bring to the table compared to Gabe?’
‘Awh, bless your heart, Faith. But you need to believe in yourself more.’ He studies me with those dark eyes, and then finally smiles, revealing a pair of dimples I’d never noticed before.
A few minutes later our orders arrive and Henry laughs.
‘What?’ I say as I pick up my fork and knife.
‘Your face – it literally lit up when the waiter put the plate before you.’
‘I do love my food,’ I answer. ‘Bon appetit!’
‘Bon appetit, Faith.’
And it’s pure bliss. The scallops are cooked perfectly and drenched in a delicious lemon garlic sauce.
The children in the rock pools and their parents have gone and the sun has slowly begun its descent as the fairy lights and gas heaters take over.
‘Can I ask you a question, Faith?’ Henry says as he wipes his mouth with his linen napkin.
‘Yes?’
‘You told me you and your sister were foster children. How did your parents…? I’m sorry, I’m being nosy.’
I shrug, because actually, I don’t mind telling Henry. He’s quite easy to relate to and I feel I don’t need to impress him in any way. ‘My father left my mother before she even knew she was pregnant. He… was married and my mum never knew. He left her and she died a few years after having us.’
He looks at me, his eyes mirroring his empathy. ‘I’m so sorry, Faith…’
I shrug. ‘It’s all right, it was a long time ago.’
‘So again, that’s why you became an interior designer. To make homes beautiful.’
‘And welcoming.’
‘Faith? Seeing as we’ve come this far…’
‘Yes…?’
He hesitates, but then looks me right in the eye. ‘I don’t mean to pry, but… Gabe always did have a reputation for going through money very quickly. He may well be a rock star, but I have a feeling that not all is as it seems. And you would do well to be wary of him.’
‘Weren’t you supposed to be friends?’
‘Supposed to be, being the operative word.’
I flinch and put down my fork.
‘I’m sorry,’ he says. ‘I only mean to look out for you.’
‘You think Gabe is a big spender or a dissolute. He’s not. We’re very careful with money.’
‘I’m sure you are. But Gabe takes more than he gives. He—’ Henry opens his mouth but closes it again. ‘Yes, well. I suppose a lot of it is my fault,’ he says in the end. ‘I just don’t want him to take advantage of you, Faith,’ he whispers as he leans over to touch my hand.
I look at his long joiner’s fingers, huge and dark, covering mine. I am transfixed by the power emanating from them. He could crush me in one singe gesture, if he wanted to. He could actually even crush Gabe, too. But instead, he is gentle.
‘I certainly hope not,’ I confess. ‘But I’ve been wrong before.’
‘I’m sorry I even brought this up, Faith. Let’s steer clear of Gabe and enjoy this amazing meal. What do you think?’
‘Well, the scallops are divine…’
His dark eyes crinkle at the corners in another smile. ‘Exactly. And I promise you as many desserts as you want afterwards.’
‘Okay, change of subject then. How is the kitchen coming along?’ I ask. ‘Can I come to the joinery for a snoop?’
‘Absolutely not,’ he says with a laugh, removing his hand from mine.
‘What about the wainscoting? What are we going to do about it?’
‘Leave it to me.’
‘Have you found anything?’
‘Let’s say you’ll be very happy.’
‘Thanks, Henry, I trust you completely.’ Truly, I do. He knows what he’s doing, and he does it well.
He chuckles. ‘Thank you. How are you?’
‘I’m fine, Henry, thanks for asking.’
He eyes me. ‘When is Gabe coming home?’
‘Oh… probably in 2099, I suppose,’ I say with a laugh as my mood begins to sink at the mere mention of his delay.
‘Is this life what you signed up for?’
Ouch. ‘It could be. We will see if we can work things out, once he returns home.’
‘For how long?’
Let it go, already, will you? I want to say, because I am having such a good time with him, despite us touching delicate topics. But I sigh and shrug. ‘For as long as it takes him to write another ten songs, I guess. Plus he’ll be doing national promos, TV shows, magazines. He’s all the rage.’
‘And you’re okay with living in the limelight?’ he asks.
‘Better that than being remembered for going viral for falling legs akimbo on top of a man’s face,’ I say. But he doesn’t laugh.
‘That was ages ago, and you were practically a kid.’
If anything, Henry reveals himself to be a charming dinner companion. He’s careful to steer clear of any more Gabe talk and instead regales me with tons of utterly ludicrous stories of the mistakes he made when he was starting out and we soon find ourselves sharing tricks of the trade, even if we work in different fields.
‘It’s all about making our homes more beautiful with things that don’t cost the earth, and recycling older objects, isn’t it?’ he says. On this, for once, we absolutely agree. ‘I know of this vintage place that lets you work on the product before you take it home.’
I sit up. ‘Do you mean the one in Marazion? Time & Tide? I’ve been dying to get in there, but it’s always full. I’m told you need a bloody appointment.’
He takes a sip of his wine. ‘I’ll take you if you like. I’m a regular. I can even get you a discount,’ he offers as he puts a forkful of scallop into his mouth. He doesn’t wolf down his food. On the contrary, he has proper, old-fashioned manners. In many ways, despite the low-sitting jeans and the mop of dark curls and five o’clock shadow, Henry is old-school.
He wipes his mouth. ‘I’ll give them a call and see when they can fit us in.’
‘Seriously? Thank you.’
‘Care for dessert?’ he asks. ‘They do an amazing tiramisu here. And cheesecakes, I think.’
‘I’d love some, but I need to go to the ladies’. Would you mind ordering for me?’
‘Sure, what would you like?’
I get up and smile. ‘Surprise me.’
‘Don’t be too long or I can’t guarantee there will be any left,’ he says before I head for the ladies’ room.
Washing my hands and checking my face in the mirror, I notice that my face is flushed and I’m jittery. I should be dining with Gabe by now, not Henry. God knows how Vanessa is doing. She might even try to convince him to stay in Thailand. I need to stay calm. Sooner or later Gabe will call me back with some info. And rather than chew him out for keeping me on tenterhooks, I’ll act calm and poised.
I quickly check my teeth and reapply my lip gloss before returning to our table.
Before I sit down, I bend to the floor to retrieve the napkin of an elderly woman sitting at the next table who thanks me.
When I look up at Henry, he’s beet red. He must be very excited about dessert. That, or something is very wrong.
‘Uh, Faith? Please sit down. Now?’
‘Why, what’s wrong?’
‘Nothing. Just sit down, please?’
I sit down. ‘Are you okay?’
He swallows uncomfortably.
‘What is it?’ What could it possibly be?
‘The, ah – hem of your… dress is caught in your knickers.’
I gasp as my hand goes to my butt and, sure enough, the entire hem is in my knickers, having exposed my butt completely. As there is a hushed silence, followed by some guffawing, with a furtive yank I get it out and duck behind my menu. I have just given Henry and everyone else in the restaurant a close-up shot of my derrière. Hiding behind a menu is not going to cut it.
I look around, and sure enough, all eyes are on me. Oh my God, humiliated once again in public, and in practically the same way!
And then someone says, ‘It’s the Home Hugs girl!’
‘It is! And she hasn’t lost the habit!’
‘I need to get out of here – now,’ I plead to Henry under my breath.
‘I’ll take care of it,’ he says, getting to his feet and pulling my hand and I am catapulted along through the throng of tables and patrons out of the restaurant and to his Jeep.
‘Phew!’ I exhale as I jump into the passenger seat.
‘See?’ he says as he shuts the door behind me. ‘I forgot to pay. I’ll be right back,’ he promises before he darts back into the restaurant.
I wait as he disappears back into the restaurant. I hope that no one has taken any more pictures. I couldn’t stand being humiliated again on such a vast scale. The Internet can be a great tool, but in the wrong hands, it’s worse than a gun.
I remember the months of laughter at my expense, at art college, at work and just around Truro where everyone suddenly seemed to know who I was for all the wrong reasons. I had longed for success and notoriety, but not in this way. I wish I could disappear tonight.
Henry truly is a gent. Such a nice bloke. I wonder why his wife left him. And then I wonder what it is that compels people who are in perfectly stable relationships to suddenly end them. Henry’s wife, Gabe, Hope’s husband. It just goes to show how we should never take anything for granted.
A shadow falls across the inside of the Jeep and I look up with a smile, but it isn’t Henry.
One of the men has followed us out of the restaurant, cackling as he points his mobile at me, filming me up close.
And that’s when Henry whirls him around and yanks it from him, holding the mobile out of the man’s reach as he deletes the photos.
‘Give me my phone back!’ the man demands.
‘When I’m good and ready,’ Henry replies.
‘I’ll make you!’ the man shakily threatens.
‘You can try,’ Henry says with a shrug.
‘Then I’m calling the police!’ he says.
‘Please do, and you can also tell them how you were filming a woman without her consent.’
At that thought, the man simply raises his hands and disappears and Henry throws the phone to him and turns back to the car.
‘Thank you, Henry. I’m so sorry, I didn’t think people would remember me after all those years.’
‘You have nothing to be sorry about,’ he says hotly. ‘It’s not your fault that some blokes are complete arses.’
Some, but not all. Because Henry was a star to get me out of there in no time.
*
‘I’m officially Henry’s hugest fan,’ Hope says when I call her to tell her about my strange evening. ‘And I think he’s right about Gabe. You should be careful.’
‘What can you possibly mean? I am careful.’
‘I know you, and certainly you know you, so please don’t insult our intelligence with your faux soul-searching. You still love him and are terrified he’s going to hurt you again. And well you should be.’
‘Why are you whispering?’ I look at my watch. ‘Sorry, I had no idea it was this late. Are the kids sleeping?’
Hope sighs audibly. ‘Oh, they’re out for the count. Faith? You do realise that if you and Gabe stay together and, God forbid, have kids, that he’ll always be on tour and that you will be the only one raising them?’
I shrug to myself. ‘Better one parent than none. Besides, you’re exaggerating – Gabe hinted at the fact that he wants kids now.’
‘Yes, especially from a distance.’
I huff. ‘Maybe calling you was not such a good idea tonight.’
‘Oh, sweetie – I’m sorry, really I am. I know you wanted a home and a family, and if anyone deserves happiness, it’s you. You know I’m on your side. But I love you and I want you to be careful.’
‘You sound just like Henry. What is wrong with everyone?’
Silence on the other end. ‘They’re not in love with Gabe. And no, I don’t trust him to not leave you again.’
I laugh. ‘He’s not going to do it again, Hope. What do you take him for?’
‘Oh, I don’t know – how about an egotistic wimp?’
‘Ouch.’
‘Tell you what, Faith. Why don’t we sleep on it and talk tomorrow? I’m always here for you.’
‘Likewise,’ I answer.
‘I love you, little sister,’ she says.
‘I love you more, big sister by fifteen minutes,’ I assure her and ring off.
My sister Hope Hudson is one of the most loving and smartest women I know, and yet, she won’t let go of this. Overprotective is an understatement where Gabe is concerned.
I pick up my phone again, walk out to the back patio and dial Gabe’s number.
‘Faith – hi…’ he says in a low voice.
‘Hi… Sorry, were you asleep?’
‘No, no. I’m just outside Vanessa’s hospital room.’
‘So what happened to her?’
‘We’re not quite sure yet. She had an episode, or a panic attack or something. We thought it was a heart attack. And now she seems to have lost all her energy.’
Drugs and booze will do that, is the first thing that comes to mind, but as usual, I bite my tongue.
‘Well, she’s in good hands, at least,’ I offer.
‘Yeah, that’s true. Luckily her parents had flown out the week before. They’re not very happy with me as you can imagine.’
‘I understand, but Vanessa is a grown woman, and besides, the Chatsburys are never happy with anyone,’ I reply.
He half-laughs. ‘That’s true.’
‘Gabe?’
‘Yeah?’
‘Will you be coming back anytime soon?’
‘This Saturday.’
‘Are you serious?’
‘Yeah. I feel like a weight has lifted off my shoulders. Finally.’
A weight. I wonder if he had spoken to her like that about me back in the day when she’d asked him if he’d dumped me yet.
‘Faith? Are you still there?’
‘Of course,’ I reassure him.
‘Are you happy?’
Am I happy? Confused is more like it.
‘I’ve got to go now,’ he says before I can answer him, which is for the best. ‘But I’ll text you my flight details.’
‘Okay,’ I whisper. ‘Bye.’
I ring off, breathing in the cold evening air. The seagulls are performing a song and dance around something out to sea, their cries barely audible from where I stand, one hip on the railing, hugging myself.
There’s so much to talk about, so much to forgive and forget. Can I? I know that he is truly sorry for what he’s done. After all, Gabe has never been the stable one in our relationship. And so here I am again, waiting, wondering, worrying. Is it going to be like this forever?
I wander around the house alone, taking stock of not only the work progress, but also of that of my career. I have so many ideas I’d like to propose to the Wickfords – for homes, for offices, for leisure centres. The thoughts are literally bursting out of my head and jumping onto my sketch pads that are rapidly piling up on my desk. I’m like an unpublished author who’s been writing for years on end in the hope of one day being validated by an expert in publishing. Or a greasy-spoon cook waiting for their Michelin-starred restaurant.
Of course, I could settle for a lesser firm, and if I can’t reach them in any way, I may well have to. But it seems like such a shame to let my ideas, my labour of love of a lifetime, go to some anonymous company that does not have the resources or the inclination to do greater things.
Like this beautiful, beautiful home. In the wrong hands, it had been turned into a nightmarish jungle. But with a little love and respect, it will once again shine as it was meant to.
I continue surveying each room, noticing the quality of the work. Henry may be top-notch, but my team can match him regarding quality of workmanship and materials. Yes, with a huge amount of ghastly work and perseverance, maybe one day, if I stick to it and don’t stop believing in myself and my crew, Hudson Home Designs may have a shot at becoming, in time, just as prominent as Turner & Cooke or Wickford. The Wickfords may be wealthy, but Henry Turner started out in his father’s shed, and look at him now.
*
Saturday morning and I’ve got the entire house to myself. I’m checking my spreadsheet and narrowing down my choice for the bathrooms and waiting for Gabe to arrive once again, just like Groundhog Day. But this time, hopefully, things will be different. Especially if we’re serious about each other— and starting a family. I’m not prepared to lose everything all over again, so I’m in. But this time, we’ll lay down some ground rules, for starters. Clear the air between us. And if it feels right, we’ll give it a shot. No more rushing into heartache. We’ll start from scratch, if necessary. He’ll come through that door and – as if on cue, my mobile rings. It’s Gabe. He should be in the air right now, shouldn’t he? An uneasy, familiar feeling grips my middle section.
‘Please don’t tell me your flight is delayed again,’ I beg.
Silence.
Oh, bugger it. ‘Are you stuck on a stopover?’
I feel him hesitate. ‘I’m sorry, Faith, to do this to you again…’
I literally feel my muscles freezing. ‘What…’ I croak, leaning against the wall for support, ‘…happened now?’
‘I’ve run into a bit of a problem.’
‘With your passport? Customs? You didn’t pack anything weird, did you?’
‘I… never packed. Faith, I’m so sorry.’
‘Never packed…?’ I repeat dumbly, trying to make sense of his words.
‘Faith?’
Oh-oh. Gabe never uses this tone. I swallow down the fear that something seismic is about to happen.
‘I have something to tell you.’
And there it is, just as you’re climbing out of the pit of despair, the universe remembers you again.
‘Are you okay, Gabe? Just tell me you’re not sick.’
Pause for dramatic effect. ‘I’m not sick, Faith—’
‘Ohthankgod,’ I gush, relief flooding my veins. I always feared that something would intervene with our Happily Ever After. Not that it already hadn’t, but once we’d got over the Vanessa hurdle, we could face anything. I suddenly know that now. ‘Whatever it is, Gabe, I’m there for you.’
And then he groans. ‘Jesus, I just don’t deserve you, Faith…’
I can actually feel my heartbeat pounding in my neck now. ‘Gabe, just tell me what it is and we’ll sort it together.’
‘Faith… I’m so sorry. You’re the sweetest and kindest girl on the planet and—’
‘Will you just tell me what’s happened?’ I practically scream, unable to take it anymore.
He makes a funny noise in his throat. ‘I… uhm, wanted you to hear it from me first. I’m sorry to do this to you, Faith. But she’s sort of… pregnant with my kid.’