Chapter Twenty-Four
Scarlett dragged her suitcase to the door and took a last look at her flat, before pulling the door closed behind her. She’d left a bottle of champagne and some flowers for the American newlyweds, who were renting it from her. She prayed they’d find more happiness than she had in her safe little haven, and hoped that, one day, she’d be able to return to it a better person.
With her car packed to the gunwales, she headed off to spend a last night with Louisa and Elsa, to say goodbye, mentally preparing herself to be upbeat so that Elsa wouldn’t realise that she was leaving.
‘Hiya. I thought it was your car I heard.’ Louisa had opened the door before Scarlett even knocked. She ushered her sister inside, slopping coffee down the woodwork and over her floor from the mug she clutched to her chest. ‘Oh, bugger, coffee everywhere.’
Scarlett laughed, as Louisa swiped at the spilt liquid while fighting off Buster, who seemed to think it was his duty to clean it up with his tongue. ‘You just can’t leave your caffeine fix, can you?’ she said, fondling the dog’s ears.
‘Come in. The kettle’s on, although I wish it was drinking time. I feel as if we should celebrate your new start by cracking open a bottle.’
Scarlett’s smile was wan. As much as she tried to put on a brave face over her new job, she would rather it had turned out differently. ‘Weird, isn’t it? I’ve travelled all over the world, but I’ve never been to John Lennon airport before.’ She tried to inject some enthusiasm into her voice, knowing that she was failing badly.
‘Well you’ll certainly get to know it well soon.’ She tried to jolly her sister along. ‘It’ll be a great adventure, and your new flat is lovely isn’t it. Overlooks the Mersey — how cool is that!’ Scarlett loved that her sister was being strong on her behalf.
‘I guess. I drove up there to see what the journey was like last weekend, and unloaded some clothes, bedding and suchlike at the flat. I was giddy after about half an hour of gazing out of the window. All that toing and froing on the damn river; big boats little boats — all of them hooting and tooting. It’s worse than the M25 on a Bank Holiday Monday.’ Scarlett tried to smile but her enthusiasm for the new direction her life was taking was at rock bottom.
Louisa gave her a warm smile but Scarlett could see the worry in her eyes. ‘There you go then, lots to see, and you’ll soon make friends, and you never know . . .’ Louisa tried to rally her sister.
Scarlett raised her hand. ‘Don’t. Don’t even think it, let alone suggest it. I can’t manage a pet in my job — I have trouble with pot plants, for goodness’ sake — so what chance do I have with a man?’ The smile she tried out was a little bit brighter. ‘I’ll be fine on my own, really I will.’
She opened her arms as Elsa hurled herself in through the door and grabbed Scarlett around the legs.
‘Aunty Scarlett, are we going out to the park, or a café?’ It was just another day for Elsa, as Louisa had decided not to tell her that Scarlett was moving away. Her sister preferred to believe Scarlett would find a job back in London in no time at all and the conversation would never be uttered.
‘We can go out later, if your mum wants a break from all that chattering you do. But you must promise to wear a coat, it’s cold out there.’ Scarlett tried not to let her mind wander back to their trip to the park on that fateful day when she’d bumped into Dylan, although he seemed to loom larger than ever in her thoughts
‘Think positively,’ Louisa said, reading her mind.
‘I am. It’s just hard.’ She shrugged; she didn’t have to say anything else.
‘What about trying for someone really dull next time, an accountant, or an office worker?’ Louisa smiled gently to assure Scarlett that she was teasing as she thrust a mug into her sister’s hand and led her through to the sitting room. ‘At least you got that revolting Todd out of your hair.’
‘Yeah. I wish I’d managed to do more than just resign. Didn’t even get a chance to put a laxative in his tea, or one of the other wheezes that regular stewardesses do, to exact revenge on pervy pilots. Mind you, it was nice to see him grovelling, trying to get me to stay.’
‘And he gave you a payoff, knowing how badly he’d treated you.’
‘Ah, yes, the Golden Handshake of Silence. Oh, well, it’s all history now, and I am one hundred per cent committed to forgetting all about Dylan, although his ugly mug does seem to be everywhere nowadays.’ Her grimace softened. ‘No, it’s not fair to say that. He was — isbeautiful.’ She swallowed. ‘What time did you say we could start drinking?’
Louisa rose from the sofa. ‘I’ve got two bottles chilling, just say the word.’
Scarlett spluttered into her coffee. ‘I was joking! It’s eleven o’clock in the morning. I’m not that desperate.’
‘It is the run up to Christmas, though, so we could use that as an excuse,’ Louisa said, raising her eyebrows questioningly.
Scarlett laughed. ‘Nice try.’
Elsa came running in from the conservatory. ‘Come and see my television.’ She pulled at Scarlett’s arm.
‘Why? I’ve seen your television before, and it’s a very pretty one. I’d have loved a pink Disney telly when I was your age.’ She stroked Elsa’s hair absent-mindedly and turned back to Louisa.
‘Not the television, the man inside it. Come and see.’
Scarlett’s stomach swooped. She knew exactly who she was going to see on the screen.
Her knees wobbled as she walked over to the tiny television awed that Dylan still had the power to do that to her, even from the screen of a TV.
Louisa gave her big eyes as she stood up, throwing a longing look at the fridge as she headed towards the nook where Elsa spent most of her time. It would be minutes before that first bottle was cracked open, on that she would stake her life.
Louisa took hold of Scarlett’s hand, as they both stared at the image filling the screen — a close-up of Dylan’s face.
Although it hurt Scarlett to see it, she breathed out a sigh of relief. ‘It’s just an advert for his debut album, I guess. It’s national television, though — heis doing well.’ She stared some more, as the image faded, and a song she didn’t recognise but was unmistakably one of Dylan’s started playing in the background.
She was about to turn away when the TV audience began clapping furiously as a tall, gorgeous, jean-clad Dylan walked confidently across the room and sat next to a well-known TV presenter.
Scarlett gasped, squeezing her sister’s hand tightly. They both sat down with a thump, staring at the television.
The pretty presenter clasped her hands together as she welcomed Dylan, trying to make her Botoxed face mobile in what looked like an effort to match his broad smile. ‘So, Dylan Willis,’ she said facing the camera. ‘The new darling of the music world has come to sing for us. Welcome, Dylan.’
Dylan nodded to the presenter. ‘Great to be here.’
Scarlett moved closer to the television. She’d missed hearing his soft voice with its slight Suffolk brogue. And his brilliant, wide smile — she’d missed that so much more. ‘His eyes are a deeper blue than they used to be,’ she said clasping her hands together.
Louisa threw her a puzzled look. ‘If you say so.’
‘They look it to me. Much darker.’ She inched even closer to the pink television, kneeling on the floor.
Louisa glanced at Scarlett. ‘I know I’m asking a dumb question here, but as you are so clearly still in love with Dylan, why didn’t you wait for him when we saw him at that concert, way back when?’
‘Because he kissed another woman, and he was drunk. I can’t go through it again, not like I did with Sky.’
‘You saw him kissing another woman, right?’
‘Yes, you saw it, too.’
‘And he saw you kissing another man? Todd, right?’
‘Yes.’
‘You didn’t want to kiss Todd, did you?’ Louisa’s gaze fixed on Scarlett, demanding an answer. ‘So, maybe he didn’t want to kiss what’s-her-name.’
‘Cara.’ Scarlett bit her lip. ‘I never thought of it like that before.’
Louisa shook her head, her eyes saying it all.
‘Okay, so maybe I was overreacting. And, yes, I know Dylan isn’t Sky, we’ve been through that.’
Louisa threw her hands up in despair. ‘What, then?’
‘Watch Dylan, Mummy. Concentrate,’ Elsa scolded.
They all focused on the screen again. Dylan shook his newly tamed curls, leaned back, and crossed his long legs in front of him, cowboy boots extended. He looked cool and comfortable as if he chatted with famous people every day, which he probably did.
‘Sexy new image, eh? Looks like a country singer. Showing the ladies what they might be missing. But what the hell have they done to his hair?’ Louisa squinted towards the screen.
The on-screen Dylan narrowed his eyes when the presenter produced a large photograph of himself with Beanie and Scrappy-Doo, singing in a run-down side street.
‘Dylan made his mark singing in pubs, and before that, for many years, he was destitute, playing in the grimy streets of London to make a living. At his lowest point, he had to abandon his dog, and things were pretty bleak.’ The presenter turned to Dylan, who raised his eyebrows, clearly surprised by her summing up of his youth. ‘You’ve come from that . . . to this.’
Another photograph appeared on a huge screen behind them: of Dylan drinking champagne in a dark suit, a bow tie carelessly undone around his neck. He stood next to a bejewelled, dark-haired woman sheathed in red silk, a controlling hand on his shoulder as if claiming possession.
‘Who is she?’ Scarlett’s nose almost hit the screen. ‘God, how cheap! They’re playing the rags to riches card. I happen to know he has a bloody good degree and his parents own a bloody massive house by the sea.’
‘Why let the truth get in the way of a good story, as they say,’ Louisa said.
Scarlett bit her nails, sensing Dylan’s reticence to play along with the image they were trying to paint of him.
‘It wasn’t like that,’ he began, but the presenter ran roughshod over his words as the camera panned out to the audience.
Scarlett squealed and jumped up from the floor. ‘Look, it’s Mac, looking like a proud parent! And he’s holding hands with Anya.’ Scarlett stabbed at the television, down on her knees once more. ‘And look, there’s Stanley. You remember — the one with the drink problem and the purloined clothes.’
Stanley seemed to realise the camera was panning out to him and stuck his thumbs up. He smiled, showing pearly-white-veneered teeth, so bright that the camera lights made them look luminous.
‘Look at his teeth! I bet Dylan will have paid for those.’ She had little doubt of that. ‘Oh, Dylan, you are such a darling.’
Louisa shrugged, obviously not having a clue what her sister was talking about.
Scarlett felt her entire being soften as she watched Dylan . . . until the camera zoomed in on one particular person, focusing rather too noticeably on her deep cleavage.
‘No. Oh, Dylan, not her again, please don’t tell me you and Cara are actually an item.’
A gothic-looking Cara, all dark-ringed eyes and black clothes, blew Dylan a kiss as the camera panned over her.
In return, he smiled goofily and gave her a little wave.
‘Dear God.’ Scarlett didn’t even feel defeated, just accepting. ‘I knew it, anyway, so I don’t know why I’d dismissed it in my mind.’
‘She was the one at the concert we went to?’
‘The one he kissed, yes.’
‘We’ve just been through this, Scarlett. Cara was the one doing the kissing, and the poor bloke was so fed up missing you, he’d had a few beers to take the edge off.’
‘Yes.’ Scarlett’s voice wavered. She was starting to wonder if she blamed Dylan for her own inability to commit to him.
‘And since when did you have such a right to take the moral high ground on drinking alcohol? I seem to recall finding you slumped against the front door one Christmas, when your friends just dumped you and ran.’
Scarlett threw herself into a chair, but she smiled at the memory. ‘I still can’t smell Pernod without wanting to throw up.’ She flung her arms theatrically in the air. ‘Oh, I don’t know. I don’t know what I think anymore.’
A burst of music from the television had them both riveted again. The presenter shouted over the noise of whistling and applause. ‘Let’s give the ladies what they’ve been waiting for. His latest song, “Please Believe You’re Beautiful”. Ladies and gentlemen, we give you Dylan Willis.’
Dylan walked onto the stage, scooping up his guitar on the way. A fug of dry ice blew up in front of him. Coloured lights flashed up by his feet like he was in an outdated Michael Jackson video. He took a step backwards clearly not expecting it, like he’d walked onto the wrong set. But then he looked down briefly at his guitar and started singing. It was as if all of the props fell away, and it was just Dylan and his music: totally concentrating on the song and his guitar.
He was playing the same battered guitar he’d brought to her flat, Scarlett noted — the same one he’d played at his parent’s house in Southwold, and on the ‘grimy’ streets of London. She longed to reach through the screen, to bring him magically back to her. She bunched her hand into her mouth until her knuckles whitened, praying he wouldn’t make a mistake, but he was more than perfect. At least, in her eyes, he was.
Louisa sat, open-mouthed. ‘Bloody hell. He’s so good, isn’t he?’
‘Yeah.’ Pride rose up in Scarlett’s chest, even though she had no claims to him, anymore. A lump formed in her throat, and she turned to her sister, her voice strangled with emotion. ‘What am I going to do? I let him believe we could fall in love with each other and then I let him down.’ She tried to moderate the wail in her voice as Elsa glanced up in alarm. ‘I was such a fool, worrying about Todd and my job, when I should have been concentrating on Dylan.’
Louisa laid a hand on her arm. ‘Don’t be hard on yourself. You’d had a really tough time with Sky, and were still grieving when Dylan turned up like a bolt out of the blue.’
‘And I should have loved him more. Instead, he’s gone off to love Cara. Her and her stupid big tits.’
Elsa’s mouth fell open eyes and her eyes went wide, darting to her mother as if to see what she would have to say about such a statement.
Louisa put an arm around her sister and hugged her. ‘I’m sure he’s not in love with this Cara. He barely knows her, right?’ she said.
Scarlett laughed bitterly. ‘He knows her, all right. They both live in Southwold. She was at the pub the one time I went there, and was determined to dredge up their history together, to let me know what a newcomer I was. She probably saw her chance and took it.’
Gnawing at her knuckles, Scarlett tried to gauge Dylan’s reactions to the ever-waving Cara by staring at the television, as if it would flash up the status of their relationship.
As soon as the song ended, Dylan bowed and blew a kiss to the audience who whistled and clapped, continuing when he’d left the stage. There was no doubt that he’d been a raging success.
She sat still, staring at nothing, drained of emotion. Eventually she huffed out a breath and put her thumb and forefinger to the bridge of her nose. ‘About that wine in the fridge and starting a tad earlier than we meant to?’
‘Glass, or bottle?’ Louisa asked, heading for the kitchen.
Scarlett plonked herself down on the sofa. ‘What do you think?’
Louisa joined Scarlett on the sofa, waving a bottle in each hand. ‘Plan of action?’
‘I don’t think I have one, apart from getting sozzled,’ Scarlett said miserably. She thought of Dylan’s easy smile and felt her heart break. ‘I’ve left it too late.’