WHAT WAS THAT NOISE? An insistent buzz, as if an angry mosquito was trying to wake them up. An extremely loud, extremely angry mosquito.
Ellie reluctantly opened her eyes but it made no difference. The room was still dark. She put out her hand and encountered flesh; firm, warm flesh. Mmm... She ran her fingers appreciatively over Max’s chest, learning him by heart once again.
Buzzzzz...
The mosquito had returned. Only it was no insect. Judging by the furiously flashing lights and the way it was dancing all over the bedside cabinet it was Ellie’s phone making the racket.
Who on earth...?
Was it the shop?
Her heart began to speed up, skittering as frantically as her continuously buzzing phone as she pulled herself up, hands slipping on the rumpled sheets.
The buzzing stopped for one never-ending second, only to start up again almost immediately.
‘What’s that?’ Max turned over, his voice thick with sleep.
‘My phone. I don’t know. It must be a wrong number.’
Please let it be a wrong number. Terrifying images ran through her mind in Technicolor glory: fire; flood, theft. All three...
Finally she got one trembling hand to the phone and pulled it over, pulling out the charging cable as she did so. Turning it over, she stared in disbelief at the name flashing up on the screen.
Mum.
What on earth...? She accepted the call with fingers too clumsy in their haste. ‘Mum? Is everything all right?’
There was a pause, and then Ellie heard it. It was like being catapulted back in time. A painful, breathtaking blow as the years rolled back to the moment a policeman had knocked on the door and their lives had been irrevocably altered. That low keening, like an animal in severe distress.
She had hoped never to hear that noise again.
‘Mum?’
‘Ellie? Ellie? Oh, thank goodness, darling. It’s Bill.’ The words were garbled, breathless, but discernible.
Not now...please not now.
But even as her mind framed the words she pushed the thought away, shame swamping her. How could she be so selfish when catastrophe had torpedoed her mother’s happiness once again?
And what of Bill? Big, blustering Bill? She barely knew him, not really, but he had supported her mother, loved her, given her a new life, a new beginning.
And if it was easier for her mother to cope without Ellie, the spitting image of her dad and so similar to her brother, a constant reminder of all that Marissa Scott had lost, then how could Ellie really blame her? Didn’t she herself shy away from anything that reminded her of what she only now appreciated had been an extraordinarily perfect childhood?
‘Mum, what’s happened? Is he...?’ She couldn’t bring herself to utter the last word.
‘He’s had a heart attack. He’s in Theatre now.’
Oh, thank God...thank God. ‘Where are you? In Spain?’
She looked up, but Max was already firing up his laptop, phone at the ready. His poor PA was probably on hand to take his instructions. Relief shot through her. She knew instinctively that this time she wouldn’t have to do it all alone. That he would sort out a flight, at least; probably cars, hotels...
‘No, we’re in Oakwood. Bill’s daughter had a baby, so we came back for a visit.’
They were back in England, in close proximity to London. But they hadn’t told her, hadn’t suggested a trip to Cornwall, asked to see her. It wasn’t the time for selfishness but Ellie couldn’t help the sore thud of disappointment. Couldn’t stop her mouth working as she swallowed back the huge, painful lump.
Knowing and understanding her mother’s need for distance didn’t stop it hurting.
But she had called now. She was in pain and she needed her daughter.
‘I’m on my way. Give me a couple of hours. Do you need anything? Food? Clothes?’
‘No, no. I’m okay. But, Ellie? Hurry, darling.’
* * *
Her face was pale and set, but there was strength in the pointed chin, in the dark, deeply shadowed eyes. A feeling of indomitability. Max had the sense Ellie had been here before, travelling through the night to support her mother.
‘What about our things? Your hire car? You don’t need to come with me.’ They were the first words she had said since the town car had pulled up outside the hotel and they had exited the ornate lobby to find themselves in the strange, other-worldly pre-dawn of London.
Not quiet, London could never be completely still, but emptier, greyer, ghostlier. The chauffeur drove them at practised speed through the city streets, soon hitting suburbs as foreign and anonymous as every city’s outskirts. Warehouses and concrete gave way to residential streets and then to fields and motorways.
‘It’s fine. Lydia will take care of it all.’ He had already fired off several emails to his PA, and even though it was late night back in Hartford she had replied, was seamlessly sorting everything out. ‘Our clothes will be packed up and sent back to Cornwall, and the car is getting picked up by the hire company.’
She nodded, but her attention was only half on him as she stared out of the window at the rapidly passing countryside. She was back in her usual grey. The scarlet dress was still lying on the floor of the sitting-room, a bright red puddle of silk. Make-up free, her hair pushed back behind her ears, the only hint that the evening had happened was the faint scent of jasmine on her skin; on his skin.
He shut his eyes, images of her passing through his mind like scenes from a film. Her body, long, slender, slick with oil, as his hands moved firmly over silken skin.
‘What about work? DL needs you.’ Her voice was toneless.
He opened his eyes, the last remnants of the night before fading away. Not the time or place, he scolded himself. ‘It’s fine. Let’s see what your mother needs and I can worry about DL later. The hospital will have WiFi, won’t it?’
She nodded. ‘I guess. It’s a long time since I’ve been there. Not since Dad and Phil...’ Her voice trailed off.
‘Your mom’s back in your old home town?’
No wonder she looked so haunted.
‘For fourteen years I thought it was the most perfect place in the world.’ Her voice was wistful. ‘I danced. Did you know that?’
‘No, but I should have guessed.’ Of course she had danced. That long, toned slenderness was a dancer’s legacy.
‘I danced, played in the orchestra and was a member of the drama society. Phil played rugby and swam. We were like a family from an advertisement, with the golden Labrador to match.’
She turned towards him, her chin propped in her hand, her eyes far away.
‘At weekends we’d all bike out for picnics in the countryside and then we’d pile on the sofa for family film and pizza night. I guess Mum and Dad must have argued, and I know Phil and I did, but when I look back it’s like it’s painted in soft gold. Always summer, always laughter. And then it all went wrong...’ Her voice trailed off.
‘The car accident.’
She nodded. ‘Mum blamed herself. Dad had been travelling and was jetlagged, but she hated driving on ice so she persuaded him to pick Phil up from a swim meet. It was a drunk driver. The police said there was nothing Dad could have done. But Mum always thought if he hadn’t been so tired...’ She blinked, and there was a shimmering behind the long lashes.
Max’s chest ached with the need to make it all right. But how could he? How could anybody?
‘It must have been terrible.’
‘I think that’s why Mum had a breakdown. So she didn’t have to face the guilt. But I had to face it all: insurance, funeral-arranging, keeping the house going. I gave up dance, drama, friends, my dreams. There was school, there was Mum and there were books—the only escape from how grey my life had become.’
‘But you got away.’
A new town, a new life. The loneliness of that life was beginning to make a twisted kind of sense to him. Could he say the same for his own choices?
Ellie nodded. ‘It took a while. When I finished school I was supposed to go to university, but I couldn’t see how she would cope without me and I was too proud to ask for help. Then Mum met Bill at her support group and suddenly she didn’t need me any more. Worse, it was as if she couldn’t bear to see me...like I made her feel guilty. She went from not being able to cope without me to not wanting to be near me. I lost everything all over again.’
Max didn’t know what to say. Was there anything he could say? Anything that could wipe away over ten years of loneliness and grief?
He reached out instead, took her cold, still hand in his.
* * *
Ellie clung on, glad of the tactile comfort. His hands were warm, anchoring her to the here and now.
‘What did you do then? Is that when you got engaged?’
The chill enveloping her deepened. Engaged. It was such happy word. It conjured up roses and diamonds and champagne. She hadn’t experienced any of those things. Just an ornate ring that had belonged to Simon’s grandmother: an ugly Victorian emerald that she had never dared tell him she disliked.
Simon was her secret shame, her weakness. She had never been able to tell anyone the whole story before. But there was a strength in Max’s touch, in his voice, that made her want to lean in, to rest her burden on his broad shoulders. Just for a while.
She took a deep breath. She had said so much already...would a little more hurt? ‘I hadn’t seen much of my friends out of school, but it was still a shock when they went to university. So I got a job at the solicitors where my father had worked, just to get out of the house. Everyone there was a lot older, and I knew, of course, that they had only employed me to be kind.’
‘Simon...’
She waited for the usual thump in her chest, the twist of dread to strike her as she said his name. But there was nothing. It was just a word, an old ghost with no way to harm her. Not if she didn’t allow it.
Ellie carried on, her voice stronger. ‘Simon was the only person there who didn’t talk to me like I was a child. After the first couple of weeks I had a huge crush on him.’ She shook her head, a bitter taste coating her mouth at the memory of her naïve younger self. ‘He knew, of course. Enjoyed it and encouraged it, I think.’
She fell silent for a moment, the memory hitting her hard. Her mother’s happiness—one she couldn’t share. The resentment she hadn’t been able to bring herself to acknowledge because it was so petty and mean; resentment that she had given up her childhood and future for her mother and now she was the one being left behind. And the coldness of her isolation. The dawning knowledge that her mother not only no longer needed her but somehow no longer wanted her.
Ellie shivered and Max put an arm around her, pulling her in close, holding her against his warm strength.
She turned into his comforting embrace, her arms slipping around him, allowing herself the luxury of leaning on him, into him, just this once. She inhaled deep, that smell of pine and salt, of sea and fresh air that clung to him even after two days in London.
‘Looking back now, I can see that I was just desperate to feel loved, cared for. Simon sensed it, I think...my indecision, my loneliness...and he made his move.’
Her mouth twisted.
‘He was very clever. One moment he would flatter me, make me feel like the most desirable woman alive. The next he would tease me, treat me like a silly schoolgirl. He’d stand me up and then turn up to whisk me away on an impossibly romantic date. I never knew where I stood. As he intended.’
She swallowed.
‘And right from the start I tried to be what he wanted. To wear my hair the way he liked, dress in a way he approved of. He never actually said anything—but he would get this look, you know? This terribly disappointed look. Sometimes he would stop speaking to me altogether, not contact me if I really displeased him, and I would never know why. I’d have to figure it out. I used to sit alone in the empty house and cry, stare at my phone willing him to text me. When he finally spoke to me I’d be so relieved I would promise myself I would never upset him again. I learned what was expected of me, what would make him smile in approval. My food, my clothes, the books I read, the films I watched—all guided by him. I thought I was in love. That he protected me, cared for me.’
Max’s whole body was rigid, and when she peeped over she saw a muscle beating in his cheek. His fingers gripped hers tightly, almost painful in their intensity.
‘When Mum told me she was moving to Spain with Bill, selling the house, Simon came to the rescue; my knight in shining armour. He asked why didn’t I move in, and I couldn’t think of a single reason not to.’
She laced her fingers through Max’s.
‘It all happened so slowly. First he suggested I give up my job so that I could study. But then he found a hundred reasons for me to delay starting a course and I agreed. Because, you see, I thought he was protecting me.’
She swallowed again.
‘I don’t know when it dawned on me that I didn’t have a single thing to call my own. Not for a long time. I forgot that it wasn’t normal to be terrified in case you said the wrong thing, in case the house wasn’t neat enough, the dishes tidied away, the bed made perfectly, my hair and clothes perfect. I didn’t realise for a long time that I could barely breathe, that I was terrified of his displeasure, that just one frown could crush me.
‘Because the worst thing of all,’ her voice was low now, as she admitted the part that shamed her most. ‘The worst thing of all is that when he smiled, when I got it right, I was elated. So that’s what I strived for. I looked right, said the right things. When he was happy I was happy. I thought I was so very happy.’
She blinked, almost shocked to feel the wetness on her eyelashes.
‘I don’t know when I first realised that living in fear wasn’t normal. Never relaxing, always worrying, never knowing what would set him off. He told me time and time again how worthless I was, how lucky I was to have him, and after a while I believed him.’
Because how could a girl with nothing be worth anything? Even her own mother had discarded her like an unwanted toy.
‘When he wanted to he could be the sweetest, most tender person in the world. And I craved it. I thought it must be my fault that he was angry so often. He told me it was my fault.’
Max swallowed, his voice thick as he spoke. ‘So what happened?’
‘It wasn’t one argument or one incident. It just crept up on me that I was desperately unhappy, and that every time someone mentioned the wedding I felt as if I was being bricked up alive. And as I got more and more scared he got more and more controlling. He wanted to know where I was every hour, would be angry if he phoned home and I didn’t answer. He went through my receipts, looking for goodness knows what. One day I realised that I was afraid. I think it was the first time I’d allowed myself to think like that. But once I had it was as if a door had opened and I couldn’t shut it again. So I just left. Jumped on a train to Cornwall. For six months I looked over my shoulder all the time, dreading seeing him there—and yet hoping he loved me enough to track me down. To find me.’
It was out. Every last sordid detail.
Would Max judge her? He couldn’t judge her any more than she’d judged herself.
Ellie turned apprehensive eyes to him, dreading the judgement she expected to see in his face. His hands tightened on hers as he looked down at her, his mouth set, his eyes hard. But not with anger directed at her, no. Compassion softened the grim lines of his face.
‘Look at you now, Ellie. Just look what you’ve become. You didn’t let the jerk stop you. Delay you, maybe, but not stop you. You’re strong, independent, successful, compassionate. You should be so proud of yourself.’
Proud? Not ashamed? Strong? Not weak? Was that really, truly what he saw?
Ellie didn’t move for one long moment but then she fell against him with a gulp, tears spilling down her face, her chest heaving with the sobs she had held back for far too long.
Slipping an arm around her, Max pulled her in close, let her lean on him, let his shirt absorb her tears, his shoulders absorb her pain. He held her close, rubbed her back and kissed the top of her head as the car continued to drive through the gloom and Ellie cried it all out.
* * *
Her head ached, her throat ached, her eyes ached. In fact there wasn’t a part of her that didn’t hurt in one way or another. Not in the languorous way she had ached yesterday morning, with that sated, sensual feeling, but a much more painful sensation, as if she had been ripped apart and clumsily glued back together, cracks and dents and all.
Max’s hand was still on hers, tethering her to the here and now, keeping her grounded. When had she ever cried like that before? She didn’t think she ever had. At first she had been too numb and then? Then she had had to keep it together. One of them had to.
‘Are you angry with her?’ Max’s voice stirred the silence.
‘Sorry?’
‘Your mother.’ He shook his head. ‘I mean, I’m pretty furious with my mother, for being so greedy and stubborn, and I am absolutely filled with rage against my dad for—well, for pretty much everything. But none of it is about me. I could walk away tomorrow, I guess, and leave them to it. Heck, maybe I should. Difference is I’m an adult. But you? You were just a kid. She made you be the grown-up, and then when you needed her she wasn’t there.’
Ellie opened her mouth, ready to defend her mother—and herself. But the words wouldn’t come. ‘I...’
‘It’s okay, you know. You’re allowed to be angry. It doesn’t make you bad. It just makes you human.’
Anger? Was that what she felt? That tightening in her chest, the way her fingernails bit into her palms whenever she got a breezy, brief email from her mother?
Brief, breezy. The bare minimum of contact.
And when Ellie had fled, needing somewhere to hide out and recover, her mother hadn’t been there for her. Hadn’t wanted her. Hadn’t known or cared that her daughter was trapped in a vicious relationship. What kind of woman left her eighteen-year-old daughter alone with a much older man she hardly knew?
‘I am angry. So angry.’ The words were almost a whisper. ‘That she left me to deal with it all. That she made me be the grown-up when I wasn’t ready. That she let me give up university for her. That she just left me...’ Her voice was rising in volume and intensity and she stopped, shocked by the shaking fury in it.
His hand tightened on hers. ‘How did you feel then?’
Ellie tried never to think about that particular time, that last betrayal. No wonder, when dragging it all up cut deeply all over again. ‘Lost,’ she admitted. ‘I think, I wonder if she hadn’t gone just then, if things might have been different. If I might have gone to university, not got engaged.’
She stopped.
‘But I was an adult by then,’ she said instead. ‘I made my choices just as she made hers. I can’t blame her. I can’t blame anyone but myself.’
‘No, you were still a child. You have nothing to regret, Ellie. Nothing at all.’
Neither of them spoke then, but Max continued to hold her hand, his thumb caressing the back of her hand with sure movements as the car took them through increasingly familiar countryside, finally entering the outskirts of the town where Ellie had been born.
She was finding it increasingly hard to get her breath, and her stomach was clenching as they entered the hospital car park.
‘Hey.’ Max gave her a reassuring smile. ‘It’s fine. You’re not alone. Not this time.’
Ellie tried to smile back but she couldn’t make her muscles obey. Right now she wasn’t alone—but next week he would be gone, and she would be back to square one. On her own.
Somehow Max Loveday had slipped through all her defences and shown her just what a sham her life was. Safe? Sure. Protected? Absolutely. Hardworking and honest? Maybe. But true? No. Hiding away, not having fun, trusting no one... That wasn’t true to the legacy of love and happiness her father and brother had left her, that Demelza Loveday had bequeathed to her.
Max or no Max, Ellie had to find a way to start living again.
If she could only work out where to start.