The coffees were a hit, the flagels rather less so, and window-shopping was a complete misnomer for the brisk walk past the designer boutiques that Matt could ill afford after a six-month sabbatical (well, five and a half) from work.
They were home again within the hour, and on the way back she didn’t laugh at all as he pinged the bell against her bottom, her knuckles white as she gripped the handle-bars tightly. When Greg walked into the kitchen, fifteen minutes after they got home, he found them sitting at the kitchen table, steaming cups of tea beside them in the ninety-degree heat.
‘Hey,’ Ro said, her head jerking up as she heard the screen door close in the hall.
Greg walked in, his jacket slung tiredly over one shoulder. He looked startled as he saw Matt sitting with her, but seemed to guess his identity quickly, from their intimate body language.
Ro withdrew her hands from Matt’s grasp and sat straighter at the table. ‘Greg, this is Matt. Matt, my housemate Greg. Otherwise known as Gatsby . . .’
‘Gatsby, right . . . Pleased to meet you, mate,’ Matt nodded, as the two of them shook hands. Ro thought Matt looked faintly ridiculous in his pumpkin-coloured, three-quarter-length linen trousers, compared to Greg’s – albeit crumpled – Ralph Lauren Black Label suit. They smiled briefly, but Matt could see now wasn’t the time for small talk. Greg looked like hell.
‘You look terrible,’ Ro said quietly, as Greg threw his suit jacket over the chair. ‘Have you slept?’
‘I’ve been at the police station all night,’ he shrugged. ‘I figured Brook needed some support. He’s not taking it well.’
‘I’m not surprised. Neither ’s Hump from the looks of him.’
‘Poor guy.’ Greg shook his head. ‘He looked as sick as Brook when we walked back into the house. I think he’d really fallen for her. The only once since Mei.’
Ro bit her lip, knowing that for the moment at least, Hump’s heartbreak would have to fade into the background – as Greg’s had – in the face of Melodie’s darker desires. ‘So what’s she saying?’ Ro wasn’t sure she wanted to know.
Greg slumped back in the chair, one arm slung out along the table. He shook his head, a depressed look on his face. ‘I think it’s going to come down to plain old greed. She said she was trying to get back what her family had lost.’
Matt coughed lightly. ‘What had they lost?’
Greg looked back at him. As Ro’s boyfriend, he was unspokenly, automatically, on honorary housemate status and entitled to full disclosure. ‘They’re one of the old families around here, but they lost their money in quite spectacular style. Everyone knows the stories and their name was mud for a long time.’ He looked back at Ro. ‘Erin’s family knew them and she said it was only when Melodie inherited what little was left and got Barrington Dredging turning a profit again that attitudes towards the family softened. She was an only child and always seemed the black sheep in her family . . . capable, driven. Ambitious in every sense, I think they said.’
Ro frowned. ‘But if everyone knew her family, then they must have known too that her name wasn’t really Melodie? Didn’t people think it was odd that she’d changed it from Samantha?’
‘No. It was just a nickname that stuck. There was never any reason to suppose there was more to it than that.’
Ro sighed.
‘What about Brook? Was he in on it?’
‘From the looks of him, I don’t think so. You can’t fake that kind of shock.’ Greg stared at his hands. ‘Personally, I think Melo—’ He stopped himself. ‘I think Samantha saw an opportunity in him and took it – secretly accessing his confidential material to identify which properties were uninsurable, while publicly encouraging his political ambitions to benefit her investments. Poor guy never suspected a thing, it seems. To be honest, I wouldn’t be surprised if that was why she married him in the first place.’
‘Maybe,’ Ro nodded. ‘She certainly never seemed to like him much. Florence, on the other hand – she was really worried about him after you left.’
Greg looked at her, weighing up the light insinuation – it made surprising sense – before shrugging. ‘Well, he’s going to need all the friends he can get in the next few months. It’s not going to be pretty. Samantha seems to have had it all worked out. When you take into account the over-dredging by the family company too: she was exacerbating local erosion on the one hand and slowly buying up the depreciated lots on the other – she played a long game. She was prepared to wait.’ He was quiet for a second and he rubbed a hand over his tired eyes as more facts fell into place. ‘Jeez, Sandy must have seemed heaven-sent to her. It delivered everything to her in one neat chunk.’
‘Thanks to Kevin.’
‘Yes,’ he murmured. ‘Bobbi . . .’ His voice trailed off, but Ro knew what he was thinking – how close Bobbi had come to real danger herself. His face darkened and he pushed himself away from the table and stretched his legs out, staring at his feet. ‘Did she say why she . . . y’know . . . Kevin?’ Ro asked, watching him brood.
‘Well, not in front of me, although obviously the police have been questioning her all night, so . . .’ He groaned. ‘Christ, who knows how she justified it in her head? Maybe he’d outlived his usefulness to her once she’d secured her ownership of the wharves? She didn’t want any witnesses? Or maybe because of his boasting on LinkedIn? That created a link to a company she’d gone to great lengths to keep hidden.’ He shrugged.
Ro fell still, remembering Melodie’s expression change as she’d described Kevin to her before the yoga class. She’d thought Melodie had disapproved of Bobbi’s overt materialism, caring about his car and job title over his distinctive gait, but . . . She went cold. Had Melodie been alerted to Kevin’s boastful indiscretions because of what she’d said?
Greg suppressed a yawn. ‘Mmgh, sorry.’
Ro winced, her attention drawn back to him. ‘Oh, Greg, what are you doing here talking to us? Go to bed.’
‘If only I could,’ he sighed, checking his watch. ‘But I’m competing this afternoon. I’ve only come back to get changed.’
‘Changed?’ she frowned. ‘Why? Where on earth are you going?’
‘The Classic. I’m in the showjumping class.’
‘The thing at Bridgehampton? You can’t be serious!’ she exclaimed. ‘You can’t possibly sit on the back of a horse and jump—’
‘Two-metre jumps on two hours’ sleep? I agree. But I have very little choice. I’m already committed.’ He rose wearily, patting her hand. ‘You’ll have to sleep for me.’
‘Oh, you’re back,’ Bobbi said loudly to Greg with her usual dismissive tone – normal service resumed – as she wandered downstairs towards the kitchen. ‘I was coming to check on Ro.’ She saw Matt as she rounded the door and gave him a dazzlingly friendly smile. ‘Oh, hey, Matt.’ The snub to Greg was all the more pointed by contrast.
‘It’s just as well you’re so damned loud,’ Greg said, talking over her so that Bobbi looked over at him in astonishment. ‘At least now I know you hate me because you’re crazy about me.’
Silence exploded around them all in a sonic boom. Ro dimly remembered the open window in Bobbi’s room yesterday – it was when she was closing it that she’d seen the necklace and everything had unravelled. Matt looked on nervously as he sensed the sudden tension.
‘I’m not crazy about you!’ Bobbi stormed.
Greg stared back at her, his hands stuffed in his pockets and his eyes absolutely and intently upon her, not fooled. He looked as calm as Bobbi looked shaken, and he walked over to her, stopping only inches away, his head bent to hers. ‘Well, then that’s a shame,’ he said quietly, his eyes scanning her beautiful, proud, frightened face. ‘Because you’re all I’m able to think about.’
No one in the room – Matt included – dared move as he carried on looking down at her, before he walked out of the kitchen and up the stairs. Bobbi stared open-mouthed after him.
‘Did he . . . did he . . . ?’ she whispered, her eyes locked and hopeful on Ro’s.
Ro grinned. ‘He did.’
Bobbi rushed over to the table and sat down where Greg had been sitting moments earlier, her hands clasped on Ro’s, seemingly oblivious to the fact that Matt was still there.
‘So then what should I do? I mean, what should I . . . ? Should I follow him?’
Ro was silent for a moment. ‘Yeah, you have to tell him how you feel, Bobs.’
Bobbi beamed, her eyes alive with delight. ‘’Cos when you know, you know, righ—’ She stopped mid-flow, a shaft of sunlight winkled into her eye by the pretty diamond sitting unobtrusively on the table between them.
‘That’s right,’ Ro smiled, looking back at Matt. ‘When you know, you know.’
Ro walked slowly through the crowd, pushing her hair back from her face with one hand and keeping down the hem of her dress with the other. There was a gusty wind making a mockery of silk wrappings today and half the women were scaring the horses.
It was hot, though, the breeze but momentary relief, and Ro stopped to watch as the horses in the exercise ring were hosed down, their blue veins bulging beneath velvety hides. She could see Bobbi sitting up in the stands, almost hyperventilating with excitement as she waited for Greg’s round and trying to hide it by being particularly fussy about the size of the woman’s hat in front of her. There was no question of her getting the coffees – her hands were almost continuously shaking with nerves. Ro looked down at her own hands, instinctively cupping the left in the right, as she continued putting one foot in front of the other. That was all she had to keep doing. She had done the right thing.
‘Ro!’ a voice shrieked, carrying over the rumbles of the crowd and snorting horses, and she turned just in time to see Ella – almost dropping her ice cream on the ground – breaking free from her grandmother’s grasp and running towards her.
‘Ro!’ she shrieked again, launching herself so that Ro had to scoop to catch her mid-air, catching a shoulderful of vanilla ice cream in the process.
‘Whoopsie!’ Ro laughed, squeezing her tightly as Florence approached with Finn, sleeping in his buggy with Boo.
‘You didn’t say you were coming to this,’ Florence smiled, putting on the footbrake. She looked exhausted. She had been through too much recently. ‘We could have come together.’
‘I-I didn’t know I was coming, to be honest.’ She swallowed, thinking how much had happened even in the time since she’d left Florence at breakfast. ‘But I thought it would be better to stay busy . . . My housemate Greg’s competing.’
‘So’s Daddy! Daddy’s winning!’ Ella said, kicking her legs alternately with excitement.
Ro stiffened. Ted was here? He rode?
‘Ella, Daddy hasn’t ridden yet – don’t tell fibs,’ Florence said, leaning over and affectionately kissing the top of her head. ‘His team’s next.’
Ted and Greg rode on the same showjumping team? She remembered Greg’s quiet approval after Hump had spilt the beans about her and Ted last weekend, Ted’s attendance at the Southampton fundraiser – so then he wasn’t one of that crew’s ghastly social climbers? He and Greg were friends. Somehow that fact seemed like a further – albeit unneeded – character reference for them both.
‘Where are you sitting? Would you like to join us?’ Florence asked, intruding upon her thoughts.
‘Oh . . . uh, I’d have loved to, but we’re already seated. I’m just on a coffee run. But why don’t you sit with us? Bobbi’s just over there in the East Stand, behind the woman in the straw hat.’
‘We’d love to . . . Is Hump with you?’ Florence asked, concern clouding her face.
‘No. He said he wanted to be alone today.’
‘Yes, Brook’s the same, understandably.’
Ro fell quiet for a moment – knowing the emotional clean-up had begun for them all – before realizing Florence was looking at her. As they looked at one another, she instinctively sensed there was something unsaid between them. After everything they’d been through, there was only one secret remaining between them. But how could Ro tell it, to Florence of all people?
‘Uh, would you like a coffee? I’ll bring it over.’
Florence hesitated a second, before smiling. ‘That would be lovely.’
‘Daddy!’ Ella’s legs began waggling again as Ro held her, and she looked round to see Ted on the far side of the exercise ring, coming out of one of the horseboxes.
‘Oh, look, Finn! There’s Daddy,’ Florence said, pointing to his father.
They watched Ted fasten the box door behind him, his hat under one arm, his head bent to the ground as he checked his phone.
Was he reading her text again? Did he hate her? Ro didn’t realize she was holding her breath as she watched him put his phone to his ear.
Julianne. He was calling Julianne.
Her phone rang in her bag, making her jump, and Florence look over at her – and then back to Ted again. He began pacing, his riding hat still tucked under one arm, as the phone rang like a buzzing wasp determined to make her move.
But Ro couldn’t move. How could she possibly pick up in front of Florence? The conversation they would have . . .
‘Daddy!’ Ella yelled again, and this time he heard, looking up and spotting them. He fell still as he saw all of them together – Ro standing with Florence and the children, Ella on her hip – his arm holding the phone dropping away from his ear.
Ro felt her mouth dry up and her heart take on an ad-lib rhythm as he pocketed the phone and slowly walked towards them, looking so good it was wrong in cream jodhpurs, black boots and navy hacking jacket. She couldn’t move, couldn’t blink, couldn’t breathe. She certainly didn’t notice that Florence was watching her.
‘Ted came over this morning actually. You just missed him.’
Ro looked back at her, feeling every sinew in her body tighten. ‘Really?’ It was supposed to be a deflection, a polite social move during the course of a casual conversation, but instead the word was like an arrow, pointing out her heartache as her voice trembled, barely able to carry the lie she had to carry, for Florence’s sake.
‘Yes, he looked dreadful.’
‘Oh.’ Oh God. Oh God.
‘As you do now, in fact,’ Florence said, taking a step closer to her and gently placing a hand on Ro’s arm. ‘He told me everything, Ro. I know you know about Marina –’
Ro’s eyes filled instantly with tears as she heard the break in the mother’s voice on speaking her daughter’s name. She nodded.
‘And I’m sorry I didn’t share it with you myself. It’s just that the words are . . . they’re too . . .’ Florence cleared her throat, shaking her head as her grey eyes clouded with tears that wouldn’t fall – not in front of the children. ‘I just can’t say them, you see. Not yet. Even after three years.’
Ro nodded, desperation in her eyes, wanting to say that she understood, but knowing that there could be no further elaboration than that here. Ella was watching.
‘The day-to-day, that’s what I focus on – issues that are bigger than me. And my grandchildren, of course – always them,’ Florence said, a smile growing in her desolate eyes as she reached over and took Ella from Ro’s arms. ‘But I do know one thing, Ro. Marina would never have wanted Ted to be unhappy.’ Ro looked at her and she saw tears in the mother’s eyes. ‘And I know she would have just adored you. As we all do.’
‘M-me?’ Ro blinked.
‘She couldn’t lie either,’ Florence nodded, smiling even as a single teardrop fell, kissing her on the cheek. ‘Come on, Ella, let’s go find our seats.’
Ro watched them go, unaware of the wind’s mischief with her skirt or the way Ted caught his breath as he approached.
He stopped as she turned, and her eyes met his. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but no sound came, and he just nodded instead. They were quiet for a long time, neither one knowing where to start, after her text.
‘So, that was him earlier?’
‘Yes.’ Her voice was tiny. ‘I’m so sorry about that. He didn’t know it was . . . y’know, Florence’s house.’ She coughed, trying to clear her throat, make herself heard. ‘Your house. He was being nosy and got carried away.’
‘I didn’t care about that.’
That? Meaning the breach of privacy? She swallowed. ‘He didn’t know about . . .’ Her voice trailed off.
‘Us?’
Us. Collective pronoun. An embrace in a word. A family in a sound. An entire world encapsulated in just two letters: him and her. Them and the children. Them all and Florence.
‘No.’
They stared at each other. Had it really been just seven days ago that they’d been sailing over the Sound, running towards each other at warp speed? Only seven days ago that she was lying in his arms as the simple truth that had been in his eyes at every awkward, confused, kind and hostile encounter between them finally tackled her to the ground?
‘But he knows now.’
She blinked and nodded. Matt had known it before she’d put voice to the words in the kitchen, his eyes reading her like scans as she tried to hide her feelings behind blood and bone. But he knew her too well, he had loved her too long, and the secret in her heart was a black mass that he could read. He hadn’t even been angry; his blue eyes had shone as despair mingled with the will to fight. He understood how it could happen – she’d set up a life here, made friends, good ones; he could see that himself.
‘He knows, but he thinks it isn’t real.’
The tannoy boomed suddenly and they heard Ted’s named called up. He was on.
‘Well . . . maybe it wasn’t,’ he said quietly, even as he stared at her with hungry eyes, soaking her up as if for the last time. He turned, his head down as he unclasped the chinstrap of his riding hat and put it on.
Ro watched him go, her heart drumming like horse’s hooves, her body bruising already from the words that what was between them was imagined, ephemeral, an illusion.
She watched as he ducked under the bars of the exercise ring and took the reins with a nod from the groom who’d been walking the horse. He put a foot in one stirrup and swiftly, easily, swung his other leg over the horse’s back. He sat up straight, looking so strong and magnificent, everyone’s eyes on him, and she didn’t understand, didn’t believe he could ever have been serious about her. Maybe he was right. Maybe Matt was right. It had been a dream.
He pulled back on the reins and the horse whinnied, taking three steps backwards. Ted turned, looking over at her still standing where he’d left her – unable to move, to turn her back on them – his eyes almost shaded from her by the peak of the hat. Almost, but not quite – and the desolation she saw there . . . One dream had already died today.
‘You’re wrong!’ she blurted out, running over to the bars of the ring. ‘It is real. I told him that.’ He looked back at her in astonishment, the horse pulling him forward a little as it tugged on the reins, dipping its head. ‘Can . . . can I . . . ?’ she asked everyone and no one, ducking under anyway and running up to him before the steward could catch her.
‘I said “no”! It was he and I who were dreaming thinking that the solution to being together lay in being apart. There’s no rewind in real life! There’s no pause in real love! It either grows or dies. And we died the day he left, though neither of us knew it at the time,’ she said, almost panting from the effort of articulating the burden she’d been living under. ‘I feel like I’ve spent these six months grieving for him, trying to hold myself back in one life all the while a new one built up around me.’ She swallowed. ‘But you’re what’s real for me. You and Ella and Finn and Florence. You’re my family.’ The last word came out as a sob and she couldn’t see him as the tears blinded her eyes, leaving her wretched and shaking in the exercise ring. She didn’t see him jump down, just felt the grip of his hands on her arms as he pulled her in to him, his kiss the only answer she needed.
Somewhere, far away, she was aware of cheers and some applause. Maybe it was for the other rider? Maybe not. She didn’t care, for once, if people were staring.
He pulled away, eyes dancing. ‘Just stay there – don’t move,’ he murmured, grinning. ‘I’ll be right back.’
She nodded and laughed as he jumped on the horse and cantered into the show ring, her hands flying to her mouth in delight as he punched the air victoriously before the judges and the crowd, as though he’d already won. But then, they both had.
As she watched him steady the horse for the bell, she remembered how six months ago, all she’d wanted was a happy ending, but she’d come out here and found, instead, a bright new beginning. She could never have known they were one and the same thing.
Her eyes shone as she watched him set off – hers at last. It had been a complicated love story to get here, a long story. And it was only going to get longer.