FOUR

“Daddy’s here!” shrieks Olivia as she bounds down the stairs in her pajamas, with Ned the Ted in her hand.

“Er, excuse me, madam, aren’t you supposed to be in bed?” I say, looking up from the mood boards that I’ve laid out over the dining table.

Her bottom lip sticks out. “But I haven’t seen him for like, ever,” she whines. “Can I see him? Please. If I promise to go straight to sleep afterward.”

“You were supposed to be asleep a long time ago,” I say, knowing full well that would never have happened. She gets so excited when she knows Nathan is coming home and if he doesn’t appear in daylight hours, I know to resign myself to her sleeping with one eye open, waiting for him.

“Please,” she begs. We can already hear his footsteps across the gravel drive.

“Go on then,” I smile.

“Thank you,” she says, squeezing me around my waist. “I promise I’ll be asleep in seconds.”

She runs down the hall and I hear excited shrills—no doubt Nathan has picked her up and is twirling her around. “How’s my gorgeous girl?” I hear him say. “I’ve missed you. Was it a long one this time?”

I pick up my glass of wine and peer around the door frame. “It’s been four days, eight hours, and twenty-three minutes,” Olivia laughs gleefully. “But I think my chart must be wrong because it feels like a lot longer.”

He grips her tightly and ruffles her hair. I watch, smiling, waiting my turn. She’s still in his arms as he comes toward me. He looks tired, but he’s trying his best not to show it. His eyes twinkle and his mouth curls upward as he looks at me.

“Has it felt longer to you as well?” he asks softly, before kissing me on the lips.

“Much,” I say.

“Have you missed me?”

“I always miss you.”

“I wish you didn’t have to go away, Daddy,” says Olivia. “Can you stay home now? For a long time.”

She curls her arms around his neck and drops her face onto his shoulder. “You’ve got me for a while,” he says, tickling her under the arm. “Come on, let’s get you to bed.” He starts to climb the stairs.

“Do you want a drink?” I ask after him.

“A large gin would be good,” he says before he disappears around the corner on the landing.

I’d predicted as much and have already prepared three thinly sliced rounds of cucumber. I count four ice cubes into his favorite glass and fill the tumbler halfway with Hendrick’s. He likes to add his own tonic, so I open a small bottle—the bigger ones lose their fizz, he says—and stand it to the side.

He’s changed into jeans and a T-shirt by the time he comes back downstairs.

“Is she okay?” I ask. “I knew she wouldn’t settle without seeing you.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he says, smiling. “How did it go at school? Is she okay? I didn’t want to make a big thing of it.”

I nod. “I think so. I’ll keep an eye on her for the next twenty-four hours or so, but I might pop in, have a chat with the head, just to make sure everything’s okay. Livvy says that Phoebe pushed her.”

He raises his eyebrows as he takes a sip of his drink. “You know what kids are like.”

“Yes, but her teacher had a word with me this morning about a falling-out they had yesterday. I just want to make sure there’s not something more going on.”

“Good idea,” he says as he pops an olive in his mouth and pulls me toward him. I immediately stiffen as I picture David doing the same thing. “And how are you?”

“I’m okay.”

“You can’t go getting yourself in the state you were in earlier, it’s not good for you.” He doesn’t know the half of it. “The children are going to hurt themselves, they’re going to have arguments with their friends, they’ll fall out and make up again. That’s all part of growing up.”

I smile tightly. “I know, but it’s just…”

“I understand, but you’ve got to learn to relax. Nothing’s going to happen to them.”

“You can’t promise me that,” I say, looking at him intently.

“Nobody can, but that’s life. I just want you to enjoy yours.”

I pull away and take a long slug of my wine. I can feel his eyes boring into me.

“So, what were you doing at Temple Homes today?” he says.

I busy myself with looking for a colander to strain the rice I’ve cooked. “A new client,” I say, far too abruptly. “They need some interior solutions.”

“Isn’t that David Phillips’s company?” he asks casually.

“Mmm,” I say, bending down to find a chopping board that I don’t need.

“Wasn’t he your first boyfriend?” It sounds like he’s talking through a smile, but I’m too nervous to look.

“Er, yeah,” I say, not sure whether I feel guilty about meeting him, dressing for the occasion, or the memory of his hands on my body, even though they weren’t invited.

“Was it him you met?”

I nod.

“That must have been a bit weird,” he says, half laughing. “How did that go?”

I wonder whether I should tell him what happened, knowing that if I do, he is more than likely to go straight round there. I think better of it and let David off the hook, at least for the time being.

“It was fine,” I say. “It was a long time ago.”

“So, no funny feelings in your tummy,” he asks, teasingly.

“Not on my part,” I say honestly. “He’s old, bald, and divorced, not an attractive proposition.”

“I bet he took one look at you and rued the day he let you go.”

I throw him a withering look.

“I mean it! I bet he’s thinking of you right now. He’s probably lying in his single bed, remembering all the things you used to do, pretending he’s doing them to you all over again.”

I shiver involuntarily. That’s too close to the truth to be funny.

“Do you think we’ll get his business?” he asks. “It might be a nice little earner on the side. Something that can run alongside the Japan project.”

“I don’t know if it’s something we should do,” I say. “We’ll have our hands pretty full with Japan, if we get it.” I put the chopping board back. “So, come on, tell me, how did it go?”

“Well,” he starts, unable to keep the smile from his face, “I think it’s all looking pretty good.”

“So, they liked what you showed them?”

He nods. “They loved it, but what’s not to love? It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see how good you are at what you do.”

“What about the kitchen and bathrooms?” I ask, excitedly. “Did they like the furniture choices?”

“Yep, they thought they were inspired.”

I feel my chest rise, my pride instantly buoyed. “When do you think we’ll hear for definite? Did they give you any idea on timescales?”

I absently top up my red wine, almost filling an already oversized balloon glass to the brim.

He eyes me carefully. “All being well, they’re exchanging contracts next Monday and completing the week after. But they want to have a designer on board as soon as they exchange.”

Butterflies dance in my stomach at all the possibilities, while my brain tries its damnedest to keep myself from racing ahead.

“How long will it take to build?” I ask.

“They’re looking to do it in two hits,” he says. “The first phase will be completed in twelve months and the second will be around six months later. It’s a lot of work, Alice, and it’ll all come at you pretty quickly.”

“It’s what I’ve been waiting for,” I say. “This is it. This is the big one.”

He trails my jawline with his finger. “I only want to do this if you’re sure you can handle it. I can’t risk you having a relapse, so if you have any reservations, any at all, then you need to say.”

I remember a time, not so long ago, when the very thought of it would have had me running for the hills. A time when I was scared of my own shadow, let alone the one created by the black dog that seemed destined to be by my side forevermore. Back then, I was so far down that hole that I even began to seek the darkness out, believing that it was my only true friend.

I could barely get out of bed, only doing so to deposit Sophia in the playground, before sloping back to hide under the duvet, where my thoughts would poison even the brightest of days. At three o’clock, I’d get up again and convince myself that no one would notice my stained sweatpants as I waited at the school gates, head down, trying to hide from anyone who was brave enough to look. Ironically, it might have only taken one person to show an interest for my faith in humanity to have been restored. But on the rare occasion I was looking, all I could see was embarrassment and avoidance. I knew I was being ridiculed and reviled, spoken about and ostracized, but I didn’t care. I didn’t care about anything other than being a mother, and even then, I was barely functioning. Just thinking about it makes my breath come in short, sharp pants.

“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” asks Nathan again.

I nod my head, aggrieved at his lack of confidence in me, though I have to dig deep to find it myself. “I’m absolutely ready for this, Nathan. I’m not going back to where I was.”

“Well, I’ll be here to help and give you all the support you need, but ultimately it’s your face that fronts the company, it’s your talent that delivers results and it’s you who people want to work with.”

I smile and hold his hands. “But it’s you who runs things behind the scenes and I couldn’t do what I do if it weren’t for you. We’re in this together.”

He lifts my hands to his lips. “And Sophia, how’s she getting on with her exams?”

“She’s got her final one on Friday,” I grimace. “Maths, of all things. I mean, you wouldn’t wish it on your worst enemy, would you?”

“That’s because you haven’t got a head for figures,” he says, laughing. “Remind me what you got in your maths final exams.”

“Er, a U,” I mumble.

“What was that?” he says, leaning in with a hand cupped to his ear. “Can you repeat that? Louder.”

I swipe him on the arm with a tea towel. “A U,” I almost shout.

“And what does U stand for?” he says, holding himself up against the kitchen worktop for fear of falling to the ground laughing.

“Unclassified,” I say.

“So, you did so badly that they couldn’t possibly grade it?” he manages.

“That’s why I had to marry you,” I say triumphantly, as I kiss him. “So you could do my numbers for me.”

“So, is she going to be okay?” he asks.

I look at him perplexed, momentarily forgetting what we were talking about.

“Sophia,” he says, reading my confused expression. “Does she think she’s done enough revision?”

“Well, she’s a walking mass of hormones at the moment, so your guess is as good as mine.”

“We were all teenagers once,” he says, as he appreciatively takes a sip of his drink.

“I can’t remember that far back,” I say, kissing him. “Thank God.” I can taste the gin on his lips, the tang of the juniper berries reminding me of Christmases gone by.

“Urgh, can the pair of you get a room?” says Sophia in mock horror, appearing in the doorway. Or perhaps her revulsion is real—it’s hard to tell these days.

“Hey, sweetheart,” says Nathan. “How’s it going?” He opens out his arm for her to walk into and pulls her toward him, kissing the top of her head as it falls heavily on his shoulder. “What’s going on with you?”

“I hate my life,” she says, her arms dangling loosely by her sides. “I can’t wait for these exams to be over.”

“School is the easy part,” I say. “Just wait until you’re a grown-up.”

“Oh, here we go. Your school days are the best days of your life…” she mimics in a sing-song voice. “Blah, blah, blah…”

I have to stop myself from laughing. Do I really say that? I wasn’t aware I’d turned into my mother. I pull a face behind her back and Nathan gives me the stern eye.

“They are,” I insist. “Believe you me, if I could have my time over again—”

“Except you wouldn’t,” she says. “You couldn’t wait to get out of school. Grandma said you barely stayed long enough to sit your exams.”

She does have a point, but I’d prefer to give her my version of events than have my mother tell her how it really was. I cringe inwardly as I recall my high school days, remembering the misery I felt on a daily basis. I’d spent the first two years being bullied, and wishing, more than anything, that I was part of the “in crowd.” I’d then spent the next three years in it, and desperate to get out.

Being hunted, for me, was somehow easier than being the hunter. I was never comfortable being part of the whispering huddle that the new girl at school had to walk past, desperate to be included, yet so quickly and thoughtlessly rejected by us without a second’s thought. She didn’t need to say or do anything to incur our wrath; Tracy, our ringleader, would already have decided she didn’t like her, and seeing as we seemingly didn’t have minds of our own, we’d just gormlessly follow her lead.

I’d ashamedly surfed Facebook over the years, trying to put right the wrongs I felt I’d been a part of. Unsurprisingly, Maxine Elliott, who I’d been forced to empty a glass of milk over, and Natalie Morgan, who I’d been coerced into telling was ugly, didn’t respond to my friend requests. Funny; after all this time I still use words like “forced.” I hadn’t been “forced” to do anything. I wasn’t held under water or nailed to a cross; I’d had a choice, and that’s what still pains me today. In my fantasies, I imagine myself standing up to the draconian ringleader, instead of staying quiet and taking the coward’s way out.

I think about Olivia and feel a tug in my chest. Is it possible that a child so young can be caught up in the same horror? A shiver runs through me.

“I just want you to enjoy it,” I say to Sophia. “Because it’ll get a whole lot harder before you know it.”

She shrugs and moves away from Nathan’s embrace to get herself an orange juice from the fridge.

“We only want what’s best for you, sweetheart,” says Nathan. “Your mother’s right, it might not feel like it, but this is the easy part. This is the only time in your life when you don’t have any real responsibilities. You don’t have to hold down a job, you don’t have to pay bills, you don’t have any little ankle-biters, draining your emotions and your bank account.”

She gives him a withering look, but the corners of her mouth are ever so slightly turned up as she battles with a smile.

“Honestly, it’s tough out here in the big wide world. Don’t be fooled by me making it look so easy.”

We both pick up a tea towel and throw them at him, laughing as he ducks the missiles. But he’s right—he does make it look easy, and I don’t know that I always give him the credit he deserves.

It could have been so different—I could still be thrashing around in that black hole, if Nathan hadn’t rescued me. Us.

I was going through the motions, but not really feeling anything, when I met him. I like to think I would have got myself back around the right way eventually—I would’ve had to, for Sophia. But as much as I’d drawn my strength from my daughter, in my efforts to protect, comfort, and love her, I had been a shadow of my former self.

Even on the rare good days, I wasn’t expecting to get a second chance. I thought I’d had the best that life was going to offer with Tom, and with him gone, I’d been sure I’d never find love or happiness ever again.

But Nathan showed me that there was still a world out there and slowly, over time, I began to think there might be a place in it for me. He took on the challenge with such sincerity that I often found myself thinking it was all too good to be true. He’d take me and Sophia out for the day to the zoo and quite literally monkey around until her sides hurt with laughter, and he’d surprised us both on her ninth birthday with a weekend away on a boat. When she fell over, he was first in line with a plaster, and when she cried, he was there to offer a cuddle.

“We love you, and are always here for you,” he says to her now.

I look at him and smile, my heart feeling as if it might burst.

“Help yourself to some chilli,” I say. “I’ll just go and check Livvy’s gone to sleep.”

As I pass the open door of our bedroom, I see Nathan’s overnight holdall lying at the foot of our bed. I imagine what’s inside; four pristine white shirts, each laundered by the hotel, ironed and folded perfectly in crunchy cellophane, as if he’d bought them new that day. Probably eight pairs of Calvin Klein underpants, all white, clean, and folded in identically sized squares. His socks will be paired and rolled over just once at the top. My hand is lingering over his bag when he comes into the room.

“Do you want me to unpack for you?” I ask.

“No, I’ll do it,” he says, coming toward me. “There doesn’t seem to be much point in unpacking really,” he says, carefully taking out four white shirts in cellophane and eight pairs of freshly washed underpants.

“Oh, why’s that?” I ask. “Are you going away again?”

“I’m probably going to need to go back to Japan if we get the contract. It’d be great if you could come too…” I feel my insides tighten as he looks at me, before he continues, “It’s okay, I understand…”

Except he doesn’t—not really. He tries to, but how can he when I can’t even work it out myself. “I thought you said I didn’t need to go,” I say, my mouth suddenly dry. “You said I could work from plans if we got the job.”

He comes toward me again and pulls me into him. “But wouldn’t it be good to go to the site, to see it and feel it?”

I nod as he strokes my hair. “And when the time comes, wouldn’t you like to add the finishing touches yourself, instead of someone else rolling out the rug you hand-picked or hanging the curtains you specifically chose?”

I hear everything he’s saying and when he puts it like that, it sounds perfectly plausible, but I can’t leave the girls and fly halfway around the world. I simply can’t.

“I’d love to, but…” I start.

“I was hoping this deal might change things,” he says gently. “That it might give you the confidence to go, as you’ll be so busy concentrating on the project that you won’t have time to miss the girls.”

I feel my hackles rising and pull away from him. “I don’t not go away because I’ll miss the girls, Nathan. Jesus, I thought you understood.”

“I do, but it’s been almost ten years now, Al. If you’re not careful, you’ll go through your entire life without stepping outside of the home counties.”

“Don’t make it sound like I’m some kind of hermit,” I say, my voice rising. “We’ve been to France and Ireland.”

“Yes, with the girls,” he says bluntly.

“And you and I went to Scotland…”

“That was our honeymoon,” he says. “We could go anywhere in the world—we’ve got the money, and, with a little planning, we’ve got the time. I really thought Japan would be a new start.”

“Is that why you pitched for it?” I snap. “To put me under pressure? Why would you do that to me?”

“You’re being ridiculous,” he says. “I know what AT Designs means to you and I did it because I thought you’d want to do it. Period. This isn’t about me, Alice. This is about you, living the life you should be living.”

“Well, I’m perfectly happy as I am,” I shout as I go into our bathroom and slam the door.