Chapter Twenty-Four

 

‘Happy Christmas.’ Tom was propped up on one elbow watching her as she opened her eyes.

‘That’s a bit off putting you know.’ She smiled lazily; there really wasn’t much to complain about waking up next to his naked form. ‘A girl doesn’t like to be looked at too closely right after waking up.’ As long as she hadn’t been snoring or dribbling, or doing something else even more embarrassing, whilst he’d been watching her.

‘Well, waking up with you isn’t the worst start I’ve had to a Christmas.’ He stroked the back of her neck, making her shiver.

‘Not the worst start?’

‘Well there was that time when I was eight and I didn’t get the Scalectrix I had set my heart on…’ Ducking as she threw a pillow at him, he slipped an arm under her back and pulled her down on top of him.

‘No chance!’ She pinned his arms above his head and planted a quick kiss on his lips. ‘Sorry, not this morning, there’s no way I’m being late for breakfast with your mum.’ Leaping off the bed, before he could stop her, she switched on the shower in the ensuite. ‘Your present is in the other room.’

****

Tom was waiting for her when she emerged, the painting still wrapped. On her side of the bed was a Christmas stocking, stuffed with a selection of small parcels.

‘I wanted us to open them together.’ He handed her a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice and she leant back against the plumped up pillows. Every gift she took out of the stocking was fantastic and she felt more and more embarrassed about the £80 painting, although she stood no chance of being able to compete with Tom. There was designer perfume, gift cards for Harrods and Harvey Nicks and tickets to several of the top shows in the West End. They were exactly the sort of gifts she expected Rushworth Associates to buy for its clients and corporate partners, so putting together something like this was a lot less thoughtful than it looked. Not that she wasn’t grateful, but being with Tom was all she really wanted anyway. Well, that and the beautiful pair of silver and amber earrings he’d given her, somehow much more personal than the other gifts, the amber uncannily close in colour to her eyes. She’d like to think he’d chosen them for that very reason. As if, despite their no-strings label, she mattered enough to him to notice the little details.

‘Everything is fabulous, thank you.’ She kissed him slowly on the mouth, whatever he said and whatever her body was screaming at her to do, they definitely didn’t have time for sex before leaving for his mum’s. ‘You may as well open mine.’ She smiled shyly as she pulled away from him. ‘It’s not much in comparison, but I hope you like it.’

For a long moment after he peeled back the paper he didn’t say anything, his face unreadable, and she was certain he was horrified by her gift.

‘I bought it at Sands in the High Street.’ Ashleigh couldn’t quite bring herself to admit that it had been a last minute purchase the day before; she didn’t want him to think she was thoughtless as well as lacking in taste, but then she hadn’t even known they’d be together again for Christmas.

‘It‘s fantastic.’ He laughed and she couldn’t tell if he was joking. Only he must have been because there’d been a horrible mix-up.

‘It’s okay, you don‘t have to pretend. You‘ve opened the wrong painting.’ She braced herself for more embarrassment. ‘I painted that. I was going to give it to your mum, as it’s meant to be the beach near her house and, frankly, I was desperate.’ There was that reliable old blush again, just as likely to turn up on Christmas Day as Santa Claus himself.

‘My God, you honestly don’t realise do you?’ Tom really was grinning like a kid. ‘It’s brilliant, can I keep it?’

‘Look it’s okay, you can stop messing about. I know I’m not the world’s greatest artist and you don’t have to pretend to spare my feelings.’ Ashleigh smiled weakly. Gary ‘the disappointing in bed’ art lecturer had made it clear that she should stick to photography.

‘You should know me well enough by now to realise that I never tell lies to spare someone’s feelings.’ He grinned again, as if reading her mind. ‘Although there’s no harm in a bit of spin if it puts a client in a good light.’

‘And there’s money to be made.’ It had crossed her mind that Tom might not be entirely delighted if Zac decided to bring his relationship with Stevie out in to the open. From a marketing point of view it would make no sense at all.

‘True, but this is my personal life and I’m always honest about that. You’re really talented, in lots of ways.’ A brief smile played around his mouth. ‘I just wish you’d realise it.’

‘Well, thanks. If you’re sure you want to keep it then you’re more than welcome.’ Ashleigh found compliments difficult to handle, but tried to be gracious. ‘Only there’s no changing your mind later when your mum opens the one from Sands and you realise you’ve missed out.’

‘I rarely change my mind.’ He held the painting at arm’s length again. ‘Anyway, I really do love it. It reminds me of days at the beach with my mum when I was a child and Dad was away somewhere. They were always the best days.’ There was that touch of vulnerability, the hint that there was more to Tom than met the eye, and then he shut down again. ‘Right, well I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.’

****

As Ashleigh expected, Isobel Rushworth’s home was a grand Edwardian double-fronted house with a sweeping in and out driveway. It was as far removed from Carol’s cliff top cottage, complete with hippy style décor, as it was possible to be. The old lady herself – and she was old, having had her only child late in life – was surprisingly tiny, given Tom’s stature, and incredibly elegant. Her hair was perfectly coiffured and her make-up immaculate. She wore a suit, silk blouse and an unexpectedly towering pair of high-heels. Ashleigh, who was in her usual winter uniform of Levis, knee high boots and, as it was Christmas, a red silk shirt, felt alarmingly under-dressed.

‘Happy Christmas my darlings.’ Isobel embraced Tom and smiled warmly at Ashleigh. ‘I’ve heard a lot of good things about you.’ She winked with all the ease of a seasoned entertainer and Ashleigh began to relax.

‘I hope Tom hasn’t been using his famous spin and I disappoint!’ Much to her surprise, she was comfortable enough to gang up with his mother to tease Tom.

‘Hmm, well he has been known to exaggerate.’ There was that casual wink again. ‘But since the last girl he brought home had the personality and IQ of a fridge magnet, I think we’ll give him the benefit of the doubt this time!’ Isobel peeled into infectious laughter. There was no hint that she was unwell; if Ashleigh hadn’t heard it from Tom himself it would have been very difficult to believe.

‘Alright, alright, enough you two I think!’ Tom was smiling, pleased that the two women liked each other.

‘Okay darling, if you must spoil our fun.’ Isobel pinched his cheek affectionately, just as she might have done when he was a toddler. ‘Present time I think.’

They moved through to the drawing room and the elegant sash windows allowed the winter sunlight to give the room a pale glow. The furniture, as expected, was made up of elegant period pieces. The room was homely though, rather than a museum piece, like it had seen life.

‘I brought you a little something, it’s not much but I hope you like it.’ Ashleigh handed Tom’s mother the parcel and she carefully pulled out the painting that had originally been intended for her son.

‘Where did you get this?’ Isobel traced the signature in the corner of the painting with her fingers and, when she looked up, there were tears in her eyes.

Horrified for the second time that day at the reaction to a present, Ashleigh stumbled over her words. ‘A gallery… in Sandgate… I’m sorry, I can take it back.’ The blush was back with a vengeance; paintings were far too personal to give as presents to people you barely knew.

‘Oh no, I love it.’ It was almost a carbon copy of Tom’s reaction and suddenly Isobel’s small hand was over hers. ‘It’s just it was painted by an old friend of mine and I’ve wanted to try to track down one of his pictures for years. I honestly can’t believe you’ve found one. It’s like a one in a million coincidence.’ Glancing briefly at Tom, who was busy pouring Bucks Fizz into glasses on the other side of the room, she leant conspiratorially towards Ashleigh and whispered. ‘The girl in the painting might even be me!’

Regaining her composure and beaming as if the painting really was the best present she’d ever had, Isobel handed out her gifts. There were diamond cufflinks for Tom and a beautiful silk scarf for Ashleigh. She was thrilled with the cruise tickets that Tom gave her for a trip to Alaska with her sister Maureen and she insisted on seeing the photograph, which Tom had taken on his iPhone, of Ashleigh’s painting of the beach at Hythe.

‘Beautiful and talented too. About time Tom picked himself a good one.’ As Isobel leant forward to kiss her cheek, the paper-thin fragility of her skin was a shock to Ashleigh.

‘Now come on son,’ Isobel gestured to Tom insistently. ‘Let’s treat this lovely young lady in the way she should be. Help me bring breakfast through. She deserves to be waited on.’

A moment or so after they disappeared into the kitchen, Ashleigh’s mobile beeped. As there was no one around to witness her checking it, or to think she was rude for doing so in company, so she took a quick look. Maybe it would be Stevie filling her in on how ostentatious Christmas with Zac was turning out to be, but the text was from her mum.

* Mum

Happy Christmas darling. Hope U & Tom R having fun, wink, wink! As requested Geoffrey has bought me a voucher 4 the tattoo & piercing parlour in Canterbury for Christmas & so I’m going 2 get my nipples pierced next week! xx

 

Unlike Ashleigh, Isobel had served up a breakfast in the dining room that any TV chef would really have been proud of. Mid-way through, and just as Ashleigh had put slightly too much bacon in her mouth, there was a violent battering on the door. Seconds later her chair was vigorously pushed from behind, almost causing an unintentional Heimlich manoeuvre.

‘Bertie, no!’ Isobel shouted at the chocolate Labrador, who by now had his head on Ashleigh’s knee and was gazing up at her with soulful eyes, just begging for the tiniest scrap of her breakfast. ‘You’re supposed to be in the kitchen, you naughty boy.’ Even as she chastised him, the affection in Isobel’s voice was as tangible as it had been when she’d greeted Tom.

‘I don’t mind. He’s lovely and he certainly seems pleased to see us.’ Ashleigh sneaked a piece of bacon rind beneath the table and fed it to the delighted Labrador, who rewarded her with a trail of saliva across one leg of her Levis.

‘Oh, I’m so glad you like dogs too! Susie-Anne seemed to be horrified by Bertie, that’s why I left him in the kitchen.’ Isobel clapped her hands with delight. ‘Such a mark of a person, if you ask me, liking dogs that is. We’ve always had them, even before Tom was born. Let’s see there was Robbie, Bert, RoRo and first of them all was plain old Robert, the light of my life just like his namesake.’

‘I sense a theme!’ Ashleigh returned her smile. ‘Was that your husband’s name?’

‘Oh no!’ The older woman shook her head with conviction. ‘He was Clive, such a dull name, nothing you can do with that at all.’

Tom, who appeared unsurprised to discover that another man had been the one to light up Isobel’s life, said nothing. The heat of a blush swept up Ashleigh’s neck and across her cheeks, she’d really put her foot in it.

The rest of the breakfast passed in easy conversation, with the odd nudge from Bertie checking whether there was any more bacon rind going begging. Isobel had been a delight. She was easy-going and loved to recount tales of Tom’s childhood, including the time he’d swallowed three hotels from his Monopoly game to stop his cousin snatching a late victory, and had ended up in Accident and Emergency as a result.

‘I should have realised then that nothing would stop him from being a success!’ Isobel’s laugh really was infectious, she was an attractive woman even in her late seventies and Ashleigh had no doubt she’d been stunning in her youth. Meeting her was an unexpected pleasure. The buttoned-up side of Tom indicated that his upbringing had lacked warmth, or been terribly formal, but there was no trace of that with Isobel.

After she’d insisted on clearing the breakfast plates herself, resolutely spritely, Isobel played the card that was surely guaranteed to ensure Tom’s compliance.

‘Tom, darling, I’m feeling the effects of my tablets a bit this morning, you wouldn’t be an angel and walk Bertie for me before you go would you?’ Isobel leant against the back of her armchair with a weak smile. ‘I know your Auntie Maureen won’t want to do it later; she’ll be too busy fussing about the security of the turkey. Just because Bertie licked it a bit last year when it was still frozen. Honestly, there was no harm done at all!’

‘We’d love to, wouldn’t we? Ashleigh can show me the part of the beach in my painting.’ Tom, obviously suspecting exactly what his mother was up to, attempted to head her off at the pass.

‘Oh no, you’re not taking Ashleigh with you.’ Out manoeuvring Tom with a verbal checkmate, she added. ‘After all, you wouldn’t want to deny a dying old woman a bit of company on Christmas morning would you?’

Within a few minutes, and after Bertie had leapt about attempting to catch his own tail, whilst Tom struggled to attach his lead, the two males of the household were on their way to the beach, Tom striding out purposefully beside the eternally bouncy Bertie.

‘He really likes you, you know?’ There was no beating around the bush with Isobel, who, in so many ways, had no time to waste. ‘The fact that he brought you here and was interested enough to meet your family tells me that. Only he doesn’t even know how much himself.’

‘We enjoy each other’s company.’ Ashleigh shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She could hardly tell Tom’s mother that they would never be any more than friends who were currently enjoying the best sex of her life.

‘I know he’s not good at showing his emotions when it comes to girls.’ Isobel sighed, genuine sadness in her voice. ‘It’s entirely mine and Clive’s fault we completely messed up, setting him the worst possible example of what a relationship should be like.’

‘I’m sure that’s not true.’ Ashleigh wanted to reassure her, to tell her she’d wished more than once over breakfast that her own mother was a bit more like Isobel, but she struggled for what to say. ‘Tom adores you, anyone can see that.’

‘True, we do adore one another.’ Isobel was smiling. ‘Only I could barely stand his father and I shouldn’t have put Tom through that.’

‘I think Tom and I get on because we both realise how complicated families can be.’ Ashleigh took a deep breath. ‘My parents only stayed together for me and my mother was always, how can I put this, a free spirit. It wasn’t the most harmonious of households.’

‘Ah, but if they rowed at least there was passion. Here it was like stone.’ Taking Ashleigh’s hand in her own, she went on, as though desperate for her to understand. ‘I never really loved Clive, it was sad for him, always in the shadow of Robert. Robert and I were teenage sweethearts, went everywhere together for almost five years. He was an artist, the painting you bought was one of his.’ She smiled warmly at Ashleigh. ‘I feel it was fate that you bought the painting and I knew the moment I opened it that I had to tell you the story I’ve shared with so few.’ Pausing she took a sip of her drink. ‘Robert and I had a passionate relationship like you’ve never known, huge rows and oh, such wonderful times making up… We had one row, the biggest we’d ever had and I told him I wouldn’t make up with him this time and that I would marry Clive. Clive worked for my father in his import and export company and was busy climbing the ladder to success, desperate to date the boss’ daughter as the cherry on the cake. I thought he was boring and a stuffed shirt, but I knew that saying it would really hurt Robert, as he so wanted us to marry, but we both knew my family would never approve.’ A single tear snaked its way down her cheek. ‘I didn’t mean it of course, I would have made up with him in a heartbeat, only he went roaring off along the coast road on his bike, took the bend too fast and…’

‘Oh, my God, please don’t tell me he died.’ Ashleigh clasped a hand over her mouth, there were echoes of her father’s accident and so many tragedies in the name of love. It was beginning to make sense why Tom so fervently rejected it.

‘Instantly.’ Swallowing the emotion even nearly sixty years later seemed difficult. ‘I think that was the hardest part, not getting the chance to say goodbye. For three years afterwards I spent nearly all my time crying and in the end I settled for Clive, thinking it was better than being alone.’

‘But it wasn’t?’ Ashleigh squeezed the other woman’s hand

‘No, my darling, you’re right it wasn’t. Clive was always less than second best. It really wasn’t his fault.’ She appeared to be struggling to think of something positive to say. ‘He was a good provider, grew my father’s business four-fold and he loved me, I really believe that, only his love was like cold ash compared to the fire I’d had with Robert.’

‘But you had Tom and that’s what kept you together?’ Ashleigh was beginning to understand him, just as his mother had planned. Her reaction was to search for the love that her parents had never had, but Tom’s had been more clinical – deciding to dismiss even the possibility that it might exist.

‘Well, in a way, but actually Tom’s arrival made things more difficult in some respects.’ Isobel shook her head vigorously. ‘Not that he was in any way unwanted – I wouldn’t change his arrival for the world, not even to have Robert back. He truly was and is the best thing ever to happen to me. It just made things with Clive even more difficult; there were now two men in my heart who outranked him and he was jealous. Little did he know that I was finally plucking up the courage to leave him and find out if there might be more to life when I discovered I was pregnant.’ She sighed again. ‘Perhaps it would have been kinder to both of them to leave anyway, but it wasn’t the done thing in the circles we moved in and with the business and everything our lives were so intertwined, it was complicated.’

‘So Tom and Clive didn’t get on?’ Some of the comments he’d made in his vulnerable moments had hinted at that, but now it was starting to piece together,

‘Clive was jealous of Tom and I made it worse, I suppose, by releasing all of my pent up emotions and pouring all the love I had into this baby. He must have seen that I’d never had any of those feelings for him. Added to which, I insisted on calling him Thomas, which was Robert’s surname, as a link to him. Sometimes I’d fantasise that Tom really was his baby, ridiculous as that sounds.’

‘It’s not ridiculous at all. I think we all have those kinds of fantasies, a way of making our dreams come true.’ Ashleigh had imagined a hundred times what her father might say if they could have one last conversation. She’d have given anything to have that chance. He was the one person who would have understood how challenging being the object of Carol’s attention could be. Her brother Jamie could empathise, but, like Geoffrey, he had a way of letting it all go over his head – whereas she took it to heart.

‘Clive did love Tom in his own fashion. I didn’t realise how much until recently. I found a memory box he’d kept of Tom’s things and it made me so sad in a way, about how much missed opportunity there’d been for us all.’ The pain was etched on Isobel’s face.

‘I know what you mean. I wish my mum and dad had felt able to separate, they’d both have been happier and dad might still be here now.’

‘Thank you for understanding, somehow I knew you would.’ Isobel visibly relaxed. ‘I would never have said these things to Susie-Anne; I never have to any other girlfriend of Tom’s. When he told me she was pregnant and that he was planning to marry her, I was horrified.’ Another tear began a familiar path down her face. ‘Of course I was delighted that Tom would have a child. For so long I was afraid that Clive’s resentment and treatment of him, and the mistakes I’d made over the years, had put him off fatherhood and that he would never get close enough to someone to experience that joy. Yet, on the other hand, I could see history repeating itself: a loveless marriage where Tom would dote on the child but his relationship with its mother would be damaging to them all, just as Clive’s and mine was. I was scared, realising that he was probably doing it for me, much more than for himself. He sees how much I love my sister Maureen’s grandchildren and he wanted to give me that last gift, I know.’

‘I think you should go easier on yourself, he’s not turned out so bad.’ They exchanged a wry smile; in so many ways Tom’s life was an unprecedented success.

‘True, but he chooses to pretend that love doesn’t exist. It’s easier for him to think of relationships like they are business deals and he’s happy to work in partnership with someone for a while, but if they show any interest in a long term merger then the deal’s off.’ Isobel smiled again, pleased with the analogy she’d drawn.

‘Perhaps, but he’s always honest about that and I know exactly where I stand, I’m perfectly okay with that too.’ She smiled brightly in return, keen that Tom’s mother wouldn’t see her as desperate or sad, pining away the hours clinging to the unlikely scenario that he might one day declare his undying love for her.

‘I know and I’m glad of that, but I’d like to see him realise that love really does exist and leave this world knowing that at least he has the chance of finding it…’ Isobel hesitated, ‘…with someone like you.’

‘I think you can feel reassured.’ Flattering as it was to Ashleigh, the compliment was undoubtedly driven by the fact that time was running out for Isobel. ‘After all, he loves you and he should be capable of replicating that when the right girl comes along.’

‘Just promise me you’ll remember what he’s been through, what it is that has shaped his responses, if you are the right girl and he misses the chance to show you what’s really in his heart?’ Isobel’s eyes pleaded with her. It was a big gesture to make such a promise, but it was such an unlikely scenario that it barely mattered.

‘Okay, if that time ever comes, I promise I’ll remember.’

‘You don’t know how happy that makes me.’ She returned Ashleigh’s squeeze of the hand. ‘The chemotherapy tablets I’m taking have bought me a little more time, but before much longer they won’t be able to stop the inevitable.’

‘I’m so sorry.’ There was nothing Ashleigh could say that would make a difference.

‘Don’t be, I’m ready to see Robert again, I so hope I will.’ Isobel closed her eyes briefly, as though imagining the possibility and choosing not to consider that it might be her late husband, Clive, waiting for her when the time came. ‘I’ll miss Tom though and he’s all I worry about, but less so after today.’

****

The beach was largely deserted, save for an elderly couple who were wearing pristine coats, which looked like they might just have been unwrapped. The wind whipped at Tom’s scarf, making him wish he’d worn a hat.

‘Come on Bertie, you must have had enough by now. It’s freezing!’ The Labrador was gambling amongst the icy waves, as though it was a warm August day, and they had nothing better to do. But Tom didn’t want to give his mum any longer than was necessary to fill Ashleigh’s head with the sort of nonsense she almost certainly would.

Just as Bertie was about to comply and head in Tom’s general direction, a golden retriever came charging across the water’s edge and the two dogs began a merry game of chasing one another, making handbrake turns that sent them skidding across the sand.

‘Oh, bless them, aren’t they sweet together?’ The elegant blonde coming towards him on the beach caught Tom by surprise. ‘Suki so loves having a playmate, perhaps we could exchange numbers and arrange a date for them on a regular basis?’

‘He’s not actually my dog.’ Tom gave her the benefit of his ‘professional’ smile, her breath-taking forwardness a shock even to him. She was attractive, but he wasn’t interested in making pointless conversation; there was a disaster to avert.

‘I’m Helena by the way.’ She held out a gloved hand. ‘And I know who you are!’

Right. So that’s why she’d been so keen to give out her number to a total stranger.

‘And who might that be?’ There was only one way out of this situation quickly and he’d used it many times before.

‘Tom Rushworth of course!’ Helena gushed and moved uncomfortably close to him.

‘Not another one!’ He used his equally well-practised ‘professional’ laugh, the sort he adopted to humour his clients. ‘I’m afraid you’re not the first person to mistake me for him.’ He shrugged his shoulders, as if apologising for her mistake.

‘You do look awfully like him.’ She looked him up and down, the disappointment as apparent on her face as it was in her voice.

‘Like I said, I’m sorry about that.’ He moved a step closer to Helena, who had begun to back away. ‘But I’d still love to take your number.’ He didn’t really want it, of course, but there was a theory to test.

‘Sorry, you’re an attractive guy and all that, but I don’t make a habit of giving out my number to strange men on the beach.’ Helena didn’t appear to sense the irony in her words, suddenly looking distinctly uncomfortable. ‘Come on Suki, we’ve got to go.’

Watching her disappear along the beach, Tom sighed. Had it always been like this? Grabbing Bertie before he could escape again, he clipped on the lead. He had to get back. If his mother said what was on her mind, everything with Ashleigh might change. He wasn’t ready for their friendship to end just yet, because, whatever else it might be, at least he knew it was real.

****

Isobel’s sister Maureen arrived to collect her and the dog for the remainder of Christmas and New Year just as Tom got back with a wet, but considerably calmer Bertie. In a flurry of hugs and protestations from Auntie Maureen about the smell of wet dog in the back of her husband’s Nissan, Ashleigh and Tom headed off with promises to visit Isobel again soon.

‘I take it Mum told you about Robert?’ Tom kept his eyes on the road, as he drove away from his mother’s house and back to the flat. ‘I suppose you know now why all of our dogs have had such similar names?’

‘Yes.’ She didn’t know what else to say; any remark she made would sound flippant.

‘It’s just a fantasy that kept her sane in an unhappy marriage. If Robert had lived, I’m sure she’d eventually have realised that those feelings don’t last, except in films with saccharine sweet endings.’

Ashleigh just nodded. It was pointless getting into a debate with Tom about love.

‘I’m glad she liked you as much as she did though.’ He grinned suddenly, the famous dimples making an appearance. ‘She told me I’d finally proved that I don’t waste all my good sense on making business decisions!’ He paused, glancing at her, as she struggled not to show any reaction to his mother’s words. ‘But don’t read too much into anything she says, she’s just desperate to see me settle down.’

‘Don’t worry, I won’t.’ Ashleigh kept her voice even. Buying into Isobel’s theories could be very dangerous indeed.

****

They spent the rest of the day just enjoying each other’s company, curled up on the sofa watching old movies and having a secret cry at It’s a Wonderful Life. They had a somewhat unconventional dinner of lobster and demolished most of a tin of chocolates, like millions of other couples on sofas in front of their TVs all over the country. They spent most of the afternoon in bed and watched the sky turn pink over the sea as Christmas day began to ebb away. If she’d wanted to buy into Isobel’s theory that Tom was secretly in love with her, then she could have done. It was such a perfect day, but, just as Tom had always so fervently insisted, perfection wasn’t meant to last.