Chapter 35
with her backpack on her shoulders and her day bag strapped across her chest, Evie walked through the automatic security doors and into Heathrow’s arrivals lounge.
Her mother greeted her with a huge hug, a few tears and a much-needed winter coat. “Did you have a good flight?” Mum asked, avoiding the much bigger question of what her daughter was doing back home five weeks earlier than planned. She held the backpack as Evie slipped on her goose-down parka. “You look very tired, darling.”
Evie looked at her wristwatch. She’d been traveling for forty-two hours. Alice Springs to Melbourne, Melbourne to Sydney. Sydney to Singapore. Her connection to London heavily delayed. “I’ve not slept much.” She’d been too upset and unhappy. And angry. Wow, she’d been angry. Tearing furiously through airports, hating her broken heart for blinding her against the sights of Australia. For making her focus only on the end goal of diving under the duvet of her old childhood bed in her old childhood home.
“It’ll take you time to get used to the cold again,” Mum said when they got outside.
The thin strip of sky visible between the terminal building and multistory car park was gray and hazy, a fine morning mist clung to the air. I remember this. The British weather. Freezing and wet, it seeped through to her bones as they walked.
“You look thin, too,” Mum said, inserting coins into the car park’s pay machine.
“I’m fine, Mum.” When they reached the car, Evie dropped her backpack in the boot of the Honda Civic. “It doesn’t feel so long ago that I lifted this bag out to leave. Nearly ten months. It’s gone quick.”
“It will always seem quick,” Mum said. “No matter how long you’re away. I think it’s because when we’re at the end of something, we compare it only to the beginning and we forget all about the middle.”
Evie nodded, knowing it was precisely that middle bit that her mother was burning to know more about. So far, all Evie had told her was that she’d been seeing someone and it hadn’t worked out—but even revealing that much had been bad enough. Mum would think she was a fool once she’d discovered how easily and quickly her daughter had fallen in love. And she’d be right.
Evie slid into the passenger seat. “We flew over the mountains of Pakistan and Afghanistan,” she said, telling her mother how she’d seen the world change from summer to winter as she’d flown from the southern hemisphere to the northern. “Clear skies all the way until we reached the coast of England.”
“Typical.”
London had been under a cover of thick, thick cloud. Evie’s first sight of British soil had been the dreary M25 as they dipped below the cloud line and touched down a few moments later. “How’s Aunty Jayne?”
“Good, and much better now her chest has cleared. She said she’ll pop over later to say hello.”
“That would be nice.”
Her mother drove to the exit, poked her ticket into the machine and waited for the barriers to lift. “It’s lovely to have you home for Christmas. I thought you’d planned to spend it on the beach somewhere.”
“I wanted to come home.”
Mum looked very concerned. “This boy you were seeing. Are you—?”
“No, it’s over.”
“Just like that?”
“Just like that.”
They drove in silence for a while.
“Are you pregnant?”
Evie choked on nothing. “I think we’ve established that’s not going to happen for me any time soon.”
“There might not be anything wrong with you. Just because it didn’t work out with you and Zac, doesn’t mean—”
“I’m not pregnant, Mum.”
“Okay.”
They drove anticlockwise on the motorway, cruising past the rush hour traffic that was building up on the other side. Eventually, Mum sighed but when Evie glanced across at her, rather than seeing disappointment that she’d failed to stick out her travel plans to the end, or that she’d so clearly returned with a broken heart, all she saw in her mother’s eyes was worry.
“Do you want to start telling me who this boy is and what he did to you?”
“It’s a long story.”
Mum reached over and squeezed her knee. “They always are, darling. They always are.”
childhood bed, in her childhood room. It was pitch black. She sat up and eased the curtain away from the window. The small narrow garden was bathed in night. She’d left her phone downstairs and had no idea of the time until she squinted at the faintly glowing hands on her wristwatch. Half past six. She yawned, irritated with herself. She’d meant to stay awake for the rest of the day, absorbing as much daylight as possible to aid her jet lag, but after telling her mother all about Adam and who he turned out to be, she’d been too exhausted to wait until it got dark.
She got out of bed, still wearing the leggings and jumper she’d changed into when she’d got home, her mum having already retrieved her winter clothes out of the loft. Heading for the bathroom, light flooded the hall from downstairs and Evie heard her mother in the kitchen. She’d go down in a minute and help her mother cook dinner, and listen to what she had to say about the situation now that she’d had all afternoon to digest and consider. Evie had decided the nondisclosure didn’t include her mother and had told her everything, after swearing her to secrecy.
Mum was in the kitchen holding a bottle of milk. “Morning, darling. How are you feeling?”
“Morning?” Evie glanced up at the kitchen clock. A few minutes after half six . . . the next day. So that explained why Mum was wearing pajamas and was about to eat cereal for dinner. “Did I really sleep for fifteen hours?” She had a fuzzy memory of going to the toilet at some point, but other than that, she must have been comatose. Evie scratched her head, her hair falling loose and messy around her face. “Are you working today?”
“No, it’s Saturday.”
“Wow.” Evie rubbed her eyes, wondering what happened to Friday. “I’m so confused.”
Her mother switched the kettle on. “I looked up that boy last night.”
Oh, God. Visions of her mother googling Michael Adams were not the visions Evie wanted to have right now. There were some particularly revealing groin shots of him out there, modeling skimpy swimwear that left nothing to the imagination. “He looks a bit like a young Tom Cruise,” Mum continued. “But I can’t say I recognize him or his name.”
“I think he’s pretty famous in Canada.”
“His wife is very beautiful.”
“Thanks, Mum.”
“Just because she is, doesn’t mean you’re not.” Mum handed her a mug of tea. “He walked out on his wife, didn’t he? And it sounds to me like he didn’t exactly walk out on you. Didn’t you say he came back for you in Darwin?”
Evie’s eyes stung at the memory. “He’s back with his wife now, though.”
“So say the media. You haven’t heard it direct from the horse’s mouth.”
“It makes no difference whether I hear it from him or not. He lied to me. I can’t trust him. Just like . . .” Evie stared down at her mug, stalling on the comparisons she could no longer ignore. “Just like Noel flipping Barker, Adam’s turned out to be someone else, living another life. One that doesn’t include me.”
“Evie.”
“What?”
“I’ve told you before. Don’t let what that . . . Don’t let your father cloud your judgment.” Her mother came to sit next to her. “There are some good men out there.”
“Come on, Mum.” Evie couldn’t help but laugh. “The only man I’ve ever seen you actually like, besides Grandad, is Zac.”
“That’s not true.”
Evie raised her eyebrows. It so bloody was true. Her mother caught the look.
“Anyway, this isn’t about me,” she said. “I was hurt, too, that Noel turned out to be married with kids. But only because he’d overlooked you. That’s what’s made him the biggest spineless . . . bastard ever.”
“Mum!” Even the mildest of swear words coming from her mother’s mouth were complete shockers.
“It’s true. After he walked out and I pulled myself together, I thought, good riddance. I had the utter privilege of having you all to myself, and as you grew up—so clever and so sweet—I was happier still that he wasn’t around.” Mum looked to her hands. “But that was very selfish of me. I didn’t realize until we saw him on that awful program how neglected by him you felt. I’m sorry, darling. I should have badgered him more to take an interest in you when you were little.”
“But that’s just it.” Evie knew Mum carried a lot of guilt for giving up on Noel’s visits but it was unfounded. “He shouldn’t have needed badgering to show an interest in his own child.”
This was precisely why Evie had waited patiently throughout her childhood, rather than ask her mother to arrange a meeting. Evie wanted him to make contact. She’d wanted him to visit her willingly. His interest wouldn’t have meant anything to her otherwise.
Mum got up to make a fresh pot of tea. “Perhaps we wouldn’t have found out the truth the way we did if I had been in touch with him over the years. I just assumed you were happy without him and didn’t need him in your life.”
“Of course I was happy.” But hadn’t there always been that nagging belief that she wasn’t good enough? Not special enough. A belief she always reverted to in times of rejection. “I suppose at one time, I thought he might be worth knowing. I soon worked out he wasn’t.”
“You always did know your mind.”
“Not lately.” Evie gave her mother a sad smile. “I don’t even know what day it is.”
“You’re jet lagged and stressed.” Mum reached for Evie’s empty mug and swilled it under the tap. “So you’ve got no interest in making contact with this boy?”
Evie had plenty of interest. Despite her heartache, she was still having fanciful daydreams about seeing Adam again. Damn it. She should stop calling him that. His name was Michael. “I’m not going to badger him.” Just as it had been with her father, any contact she had with Michael Adams wouldn’t mean anything to her if it wasn’t under his own volition. “And besides, what’s the point? He’s married. He lives in Canada. His life is a gazillion miles away from mine. It’s over. The end.”
Mum pursed her lips. Evie knew from that look what would come next, and her shoulders slumped. She really wasn’t in the mood for a motivational talking to. “You want to wallow in your own misery, don’t you, darling?”
“Yes, please, Mum. I do.”
“Go on, then. I’ll make you some toast so you won’t do it on an empty stomach.” Her mother stepped over to the worktop and began slicing bread. “I wallowed myself when Noel left. And I wallowed some more when we had those horrible journalists camping outside our front door.” Mum dropped the bread slices into the toaster. “Every time I hear a flaming Travesty song on the radio, I feel like throwing something across the room. Every year I dread he’ll make a comeback and it would all kick off again. What if he gets asked to do one of those awful celebrity shows?”
“That’s silly, Mum. No one cares any more. And imagine being stuck in the jungle with him, or in a house?” Evie shuddered. “Who the hell would want to watch that?”
“You’re right. The man’s a fool, but I don’t let him ruin my life.” She sent Evie a pointed look. “He’s a useless man and we, my darling Evie, are amazing women.”
Here we go. Evie thunked her head on the table. “I don’t feel amazing, right now, Mum.” I feel shit. “I don’t have a job, I don’t have a boyfriend, and I don’t even have my own home right now. All I’ve got is—”
“Me, your friends, the rest of your family, your health and a check for two hundred thousand Canadian dollars.” Her mother eyed her sternly. “You can sulk for the rest of the day, darling, but tomorrow, you pull yourself together. No daughter of mine is going to mope around feeling sorry for herself, do you hear?”
“Yes, Mum.” Evie raised her head. She’d been about to say that all she had was a broken heart, but this was best kept to herself. Hidden and locked, left to rust on the heap of unrealized dreams.
of effort.
Later that morning, when Evie’s dark mood had worn her out so much that she was getting on her own nerves, she accompanied her mother to the high street. It was a very cold day, the dull light of which hadn’t changed since dawn. Thick clouds hung in the sky and she pined for the bright blue vastness of the tropics.
As they passed the bank, Evie felt the weight of the check in her purse. She didn’t want Michael Adams’s money but cashing it in had been a constant internal debate. Years ago, her mother had refused a payoff out of principle, but couldn’t Evie use this money to help others? It was a no-brainer that she would share it among worthy charities, but this plan also meant that she’d have to contact Michael to tell him. She didn’t want him to think she’d kept it for herself.
She’d contact him via Shane and Krista—she still had their Darwin address—rather than via his agent or manager, having learned long ago that a route like that was way too risky.
When Evie banked the check, she was told it would take several weeks to clear. So while she waited in the café across the street for her mother, who’d popped into the shop next door, Evie began to research charities on her phone.
But thinking about charities brought Webbo to mind. She hadn’t checked on his progress in ages, so she logged on to his webpage, wondering how far down the Western Australian coast he and Daisy had trekked.
Her heart stalled the moment his homepage loaded, her phone’s screen filling with a photograph of a bushy-bearded Michael Adams. She read the caption underneath and learned that he’d donated a hefty amount that meant Webbo had already reached his target. A video clip had also been uploaded. She clicked to play it, holding the phone close to her ear so only she could hear his voice.
“So, Webbo,” she heard Michael say. “Is it warm enough for you out here?”
Instantly transported back to that first morning on the highway, Evie closed her eyes and smelled the spinifex grass and the dry, dusty tarmac sizzling under the glare of the sun. She heard the distant caw of corellas in the trees, the trill and murmur of insects in the swaying grass. The memories warmed her winter-chilled bones, and her stout belief that she’d never be able to forgive Michael’s lies began to melt away. Of course she could forgive him—if she allowed herself to.
He’d told her he’d been lying to everyone, and hadn’t she known all along that he’d been keeping something from her? She’d assumed his secret was some recent traumatic incident, too painful for him to speak freely about. But the shock that it was actually a wife, fame and fortune—just like with her father—had made her stop listening. It had made her run away.
She loved him and he said he loved her. Did she have it in her to accept that his lies were just stupid, ill-judged mistakes, not designed to hurt her?
For the millionth time, she asked herself, Why?
Why—when they’d been alone sheltering from the rain in a tent barely big enough to accommodate his tall frame—would he lie about loving her?
It was easy for her to call him a liar and believe he hadn’t meant a single word he’d said because her hurt and anger could then mask the far bigger question of So what?
So what if she did forgive him? So what if he did really love her?
Michael was back with his glitzy showbiz wife now, and whether he had loved Evie or not wasn’t changing this. And neither was it changing the fact that he had his own life in Vancouver. Whatever feelings he might have had for her were obviously not going to be enough for him to give that life up. She wasn’t enough.
It’s what Evie had always known.
off cue again.”
“Damn, I’m sorry, Paul.” Under a beam of light, Michael made his way back to his marker on a podium he’d already leaped off several times before. He crouched into a ball again, his head tucked between his knees.
“Let’s go again.”
“Try not to fuck it up this time,” Saskia hissed from her own position a few meters away. Like him, she was wearing the latest Strive swimwear, hers a low-rise, low-cut bikini in pepper red. His a pair of tiny skimpy trunks in a contrasting ocean blue.
He cut her a nasty glare and turned back to the first assistant director. “I’m ready, Paul.”
As he heard his cue, he sprang into action. A giant leap across the stage to a crash mat that would be edited out and replaced with the landing footage he’d shot that morning. There was a moment of silence, Michael held his position and waited for Paul to shout, “Cut!”
“About time,” Saskia muttered.
Paul walked toward them. “That was excellent. Now, Saskia, you stand here and, Michael, you hold her like this.”
There was a lighting change, one thick beam replaced by several tiny ones. Beads of light from a cluster of stars. Michael got into position behind Saskia, who snaked her arms around his neck as if she were pulling his face down to her lips for a soft tender kiss.
“For Christ’s sake, Michael,” she whispered. “Did you really need eleven takes for one jump?”
He placed his hands on her ribs, inching his fingertips nearer to her navel just as Paul had directed. “You wanna replace me, go ahead.”
“I’ll replace you all right.”
Paul stepped toward them. “Now, Saskia, turn your face to Michael. That’s it. Michael, you nuzzle her ear.” He walked back to the monitors to check the shots.
“I’ll replace you after the Screen Awards.”
Michael’s nose touched her cheek. “But they’re not until March.” His nostrils filled with the chemical scent of her face powder and shampoo. “The Strive deal ends in February and so does this little agreement of ours.”
“I’m thinking of an extension now that Celebrity Stakes has been nominated for Best Reality Series. I need you at the Canadian Screen Awards ceremony.”
“No fucking way.”
“That’s great,” Paul said. “Now act like you’re about to make out. Whisper sweet nothings to each other while we get a couple of shots of the swimwear with your bodies touching.”
Saskia writhed against him, pulling his face closer to hers. “Did Howie tell you I’m officially moving back into the apartment after Christmas?”
“Uh-huh. Did Nadia tell you you’re out on your ass if you turn up drunk?”
“She’s watching me like a hawk thanks to your tweet.” She wrapped her fingers around his hand as he stroked her stomach. “I’ll be the perfect houseguest from January to March.”
“February.”
“We’ll see.” She plowed her fingers in his hair. “Where did you go this week?”
“None of your business.”
“I’ll make it my business.” She angled her head, exposing more of her neck. “Still seeing Brit Girl?”
“Brit Girl?” He brushed his lips over her neck. “I’ll break every bone in your body if you mention her again.”
“Well, you could try.” Saskia arched her back. “The public didn’t take too kindly when Josh threatened to do the same.”
“Forget it. I know you paid Josh to dump you at the altar.”
“He’s Hollywood’s favorite bad boy now, thanks to me.”
“He’s a media whore. Just like you.”
“And you.” She turned to kiss him. “Welcome to the club.”