Helen and David had left for Austria and Lily was thoroughly relieved. Her sister had not forgiven her for refusing to report the theft to the police, and the days before the holiday had been tense between them. But Lily just couldn’t do it. The stuff was gone: there was no getting it back now. And whatever Seth Kramer and her sister said, Lily couldn’t see how her snitching on Kit would change a single thing for the better.
She had spent too much money and time getting another laptop and phone. But Corey Ryan, a friend of David’s, had set up the new computer one long, hot afternoon in his messy shop on Marston Road, firing questions at her about passwords and iCloud back-up, mail accounts, Bluetooth and network preferences until her head ached.
Lily knew that while her sister was away she should be looking for more work and somewhere else to live – she could not spend the summer with Helen while they were both at home all day: there would be a massacre. But the heat was making her lazy. She decided to think about that particular nightmare next week, treat this time as a sort of holiday. She would focus on it then, when Seth would also be away, making a short visit to his sister in the Dordogne.
Today, however, as Lily set out for the boat around lunchtime, she realized she was nervous about seeing the doctor. Things had got a bit embarrassing between them – to say the least – the other night, when Lily had gone round to his house for the first time.
She had called Seth to update him about the new computer, and to ask him to send her back the typed up client interviews and spreadsheet she had originally sent him, so that she could reinstall them on her laptop. The weather had broken and a summer storm raged outside, the house echoing and chilly as she sat at the kitchen table in the semi-darkness. She had drawn all the blinds – which Helen and David never did – but she was still alert to every sound, nervous that her nephew might be hovering outside, watching the house. ‘You can always call the police,’ David had told her – looking slightly sheepish at the suggestion – when she expressed her concerns about Kit. But she wasn’t reassured.
‘Great, so you’re back on track,’ Seth had said. ‘Computer hassles are such a stupid waste of time.’
She had agreed that she was indeed ‘back on track’, but in fact she felt far from being so, her mood edgy and depressed, the joys of having the house to herself quickly palling in the dark, miserable weather. It was at such times, when there was nothing to distract her from her thoughts, that she would get out her sketchbook and draw. But that night she’d been too restless and the pencil had sat idly in her hand. All she’d wanted was to hear Freddy’s voice, to feel the reassuring warmth of his body close to hers.
When she mentioned during the call that Helen and David were away, Seth had asked her over. Instinctively, she’d been about to turn down his offer – she was so unused to socializing these days – but there didn’t seem any sensible reason why she wouldn’t go.
‘It’s pouring. Do you have a car?’
‘I have Helen’s.’
‘Right.’ He’d given her his address. ‘It’s just off Walton Street. Shouldn’t take you more than ten minutes.’
Seth’s house was semi-detached, in soft yellow brick with a half-basement and steps up to a red front door. Inside was stylish, a bit messy, with long windows stretching the height of two floors looking out onto the back garden, real wood floors, mostly abstract art on the walls.
He’d shown her into the kitchen, where soft blue walls, a distressed-oak dresser and table, and grey-blue units created a calm space. A bottle of red wine stood on the table, alongside cheese – a soft goat, Cheddar – on a patterned earthenware plate, a packet of heavy-duty charcoal crackers and a bowl of cherries.
Seth had looked slightly abashed by the spread. ‘I wasn’t sure if you’d eaten.’
She hadn’t and was grateful for the food.
They’d taken their wine upstairs when they’d finished eating, sat at either end of the big sofa in the sitting room, in front of the gas-log fire. Neither had referred to Freddy or to her nephew, and it was a blessed relief to sit with someone and talk about other things, such as art, books – his house was crammed, floor to ceiling, with all kinds – cutting the grass, parking in Oxford, the holidays coming up.
Lily drank way too much. She knew it, but she didn’t care. In fact she didn’t care about anything any more. If her life was a mess, she would sort it out. Or she wouldn’t. She was tired of worrying about it.
‘You can’t drive home,’ Seth said when Lily finally realized how late it was and got up to leave. He waved the empty wine bottle that was sitting on the coffee table. ‘This is the second. I won’t let you.’
Lily’s protest was feeble. Although the storm had passed, Helen and David’s empty house, with the lurking presence of Kit in every tiny sound, held no appeal in the darkness.
They had stood at the door of the spare bedroom. Seth had found towels, directed her towards the bathroom, closed the curtains for her.
‘Sleep well,’ he said, giving her a smile as he reached out to remove a small feather that had somehow got attached to the sleeve of her green cardigan. It was an oddly intimate gesture, which triggered in Lily a desperate need for comfort from someone, even if it wasn’t Freddy. Without thinking, she put her hands on Seth’s shoulders and drew him close, bringing her mouth to his and kissing him full on the lips.
For a brief moment he responded, his mouth warm against her own, and it felt like such a relief to be wanted again. But then he pulled back, removed her hands gently. She could see confusion in his eyes, a rare thing in someone always so sure, and when he spoke his voice was shaky. ‘We can’t do this, Lily.’
‘Why not?’ she demanded.
‘We’ve both had too much to drink.’
‘Isn’t this what people do when they’re drunk?’
He laughed softly. ‘I suppose, but I’m not going to take advantage of you.’
She felt a shaft of disappointment and leaned against the wall, befuddled now, just wanting to sleep. Seth guided her into the bedroom.
‘Will you be all right?’ he asked as she stood swaying by the bed. But Lily was beyond speech. Waiting till Seth had closed the door, she ripped off her clothes and fell naked between the cool cotton sheets.
Seth had seemed unfazed when she finally emerged, shamefaced, from the bedroom the morning after. She’d found him in the kitchen, making coffee. Taking one look at her, he’d handed her a cup without speaking.
‘God, I’m sorry,’ she’d babbled, plonking herself down on a stool by the work island – she was feeling queasy, her head thick. ‘I don’t know what came over me. I promise I don’t usually behave like that – it’s mortifying. Too much wine and . . .’ She’d waved her hand, dismissing her own blather.
‘Toast?’ he’d asked with a smile.
So they had sat in his sunny kitchen, drinking coffee and eating toast with the honey he’d been given by his friend in Sussex, talking in their usual fashion about everything . . . except the kiss. It made her cringe all over again to relive the moment.
Now she paused before crossing Banbury Road on her journey to the canal. She had the sudden impression that she was being watched, that there was someone behind her. She spun round. But the pavement was busy with people going about their business, the road full of Friday traffic, and she told herself she must be imagining it. Suppose Kit is following me? She shook herself, crossed the road, resolving to stop being so ridiculous. But she was relieved when she arrived at Seth’s boat: the feeling of someone behind her had not gone away.
*
Lily still felt a little self-conscious as she and the doctor went for their usual Friday afternoon lunch at the pub across the bridge – always his treat. Outside was crammed with people so they sat inside, which was cooler anyway. To dispel her nerves she searched for a topic of conversation and ended up telling him about the odd sensation that she was being watched.
Seth frowned. ‘You don’t seem the paranoid type.’
‘So you think it’s my imagination?’
‘Hmm . . . not necessarily. Maybe someone is watching you.’
‘Thanks! Just what I needed to hear.’
‘But unless you’re a spy or a criminal of some sort . . .’ He grinned, pushed his glasses up his nose. ‘Is there something you’re not telling me, Lily? A shady past, perhaps?’
Lily found herself blushing, remembering the fantastical threats of which Freddy had warned her: men pitching up at the flat, lying in wait to duff him up, breaking his – or, indeed, her – kneecaps. She was embarrassed to have believed him now.
She saw Seth noting the blush, but he looked away, obviously not wanting to embarrass her further. ‘Those people my husband pissed off . . . He was convinced they were following him.’
‘Maybe they were.’
He gazed at her with one of what Lily teased him were his ‘therapy stares’. They seemed to reach beyond her willingness to reveal things. ‘It must have been hard, being with someone so out of control.’
Lily frowned. ‘He never seemed out of control though. Freddy always had a plan.’ She thought for a moment. ‘But yes, when it all started to fall apart he must have felt pretty unhinged.’ She glanced at Seth. ‘You don’t really see it clearly at the time. At least, I didn’t.’
‘Do you still love him, despite it all?’
‘I’m not even sure who I loved.’
There was silence between them. Seth took another sip of his lager. A dusty shaft of sunlight coming through the window burned hot on Lily’s back. She felt peaceful in the doctor’s company, the problem with Freddy a lifetime away.
*
Lily did not see him until he was standing directly in front of her. Her mind had been elsewhere as she wandered along the canal in the opposite direction to home – she didn’t feel like going back to the house yet. It was late afternoon and she was hot and a bit wobbly from the two glasses of wine – one more than usual – she’d consumed, responding to the awkwardness she’d felt at seeing the doctor again.
‘Lily?’
She jumped at the sound of her name, her heart almost stopping when she realized who it was. Holding her hand to her mouth she stared up, the sun behind him haloing his head in light. She wondered for a split second whether this was another of her flights of fancy, a mirage.
He laughed. ‘You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.’
‘Freddy?’
‘As I live and breathe.’
‘What are you doing here?’ She could barely get the words out, her breath trapped in her throat so that she was having trouble swallowing.
‘Looking for you.’ She felt his hand on her bare arm. ‘There’s a bench over there. Shall we sit down?’
He led her across a wooden walkway into the recreation ground beside the canal. Lily, still uncomprehending, kept staring at him. When they were seated, she turned to him. ‘Why didn’t you ring?’
‘I did, but you wouldn’t have recognized my number.’
‘A text then. Just to warn me.’
‘I . . . I didn’t know if you wanted to see me, Lily. I thought it would be easy to ignore a text or an email.’
She didn’t reply. Did she want to see him? She knew she had wanted to, so much so that she’d thought there was nothing to live for if she didn’t. But now he was here . . . She could feel part of her resisting him, aware that he had already shattered her peace of mind. His presence put her on edge.
‘Do you want to see me?’ he was asking.
The look on his face was desperate, his body, so close to hers, both familiar and very alien.
‘Were you following me?’
He nodded sheepishly. ‘I thought Helen and David were home . . . the cars. I didn’t want another lecture. Prem and Julie have already bent my ear about what a bastard I am – all of which I know.’ He paused. ‘Told me I don’t deserve you. How I should never darken your door again.’
Lily couldn’t help smiling, imagining Prem’s fierce loyalty, Julie’s northern bluntness rolled out in her defence. But Freddy’s face had fallen.
‘Prem said you’d moved on, Lily.’
‘Did she?’ she asked, knowing suddenly that Prem, for reasons she couldn’t actually know, was partly right. Her heart would not slow down. She was hot and thirsty from the wine, and the chips she’d eaten. She still couldn’t believe he was here beside her: the memories of him that had invaded large parts of her days for months seemed more real – and a lot less alarming – than he did. Go away, she thought.
Freddy fell silent. Lily, knowing him so well, could hear him worrying. ‘Where have you been?’
He sighed. ‘In Malta, in Nanna Pina’s flat. Hiding out, being pathetic. I got back a few weeks ago.’
‘And the bankruptcy stuff?’
‘All done. I’m now officially a bankrupt, persona non grata to the financial establishment. I will be for a year . . . longer in many people’s minds.’ There was a short pause. ‘But it feels okay. Better than the terrible worry that I might be about to become one.’
‘Are you safe from the heavies, then?’ She’d asked the question almost jokingly, Freddy’s life taking on a slightly unbelievable hue now she had been separated from it for a while.
He nodded. ‘Max bailed me out, Lily. Not only that, he’s given me a job on one of his projects, and Julie’s let me have one of her flats while the building work next door goes on . . .’
Freddy went on talking, but Lily wasn’t really taking in any of what he said. Feeling jumpy, waiting for him to put her on the spot and not ready to respond, she turned away, longing for a cool glass of water, the quiet safety of her sister’s kitchen.
‘That’s great . . . I’m pleased for you.’ She got up, and as she did Freddy leaped to his feet as well.
‘Lily.’
She stared at him. ‘Listen, this has all been a bit of a shock.’
‘But . . . you’re pleased to see me, aren’t you?’
Lily watched him brush his fingers through his dark hair in a gesture with which she was achingly familiar. ‘To be honest, I don’t know what I feel right now, Freddy.’
Clearly crestfallen, Freddy reached out to take her hand, but she moved it to rest on the strap of her canvas shoulder bag.
For a moment they stood, neither moving, staring at each other.
‘I know you’re angry with me, Lily. Why wouldn’t you be? But I said I’d be back when I’d sorted things out and here I am. If you’re not in love with me any more I’ll do as your friends ask and leave you alone.’
When she didn’t answer, he persisted, ‘Do you still love me?’
A walker went past in shorts and a floppy sun hat, a stick in his hand, a daypack on his shoulders.
After a long silence during which the tension flowed from each of them like a live current, she said, ‘It’s not that simple, Freddy.’
‘Isn’t it? Why not?’ His voice exploded into the still of the afternoon. ‘Listen, I’ve got somewhere for us to live, a job, no debt – except to Max. I absolutely swear I’m not gambling, and I never will again. I’ve started going to GA. Please, Lily . . . Please give me another chance. I know I’ve let you down as badly as anyone could, but I love you so much.’
Lily heard the words and knew she should be pleased. But she just felt a strong desire to get away from her husband and have some peace to think. ‘I can’t deal with this. ’
Freddy, passionate as always, repeated his question. ‘But you do still love me, don’t you, Lily? Just tell me you love me and I’ll leave you alone.’
‘Of course I still love you. But that doesn’t mean anything else.’ She suddenly felt angry at his presumption, turning up, invading her space, thinking he had only to declare his undying love and things would go back to where they were before he had betrayed her.
But Freddy’s face took on a look of utter relief. ‘You still love me,’ he said, almost to himself.
‘It doesn’t mean anything else,’ Lily repeated firmly, having the urge to put out her hand, to physically hold him off.
‘On the contrary, Lily. It means everything,’ he said, giving her a huge grin.
*
Freddy walked with her over the next bridge, back towards home. He said nothing, and neither did she, but she could feel his thoughts burning between them, heard through the silence his desperate desire to pin her down, to get from her some definite sign of commitment.
When they came to Banbury Road, they stopped.
‘I’ll get the bus back to the station,’ he said.
‘Okay.’
‘Can I at least call you?’ he asked dully, the fight seemingly evaporated in the face of her silence.
She nodded, couldn’t speak.
After an awkward pause he leaned in to kiss her cheek. She felt his lips, soft on her skin, inhaled the familiar hint of cardamom from his shaving soap, and her heart lurched. ‘Bye, Freddy,’ she said, turning quickly away.
As she walked down the side street she knew his eyes were following her, just as they had earlier in the day, and she felt a powerful and unwanted impulse to turn and retrace her steps back to Freddy’s side.