Chapter 41
41
S tanding in front of a full-length mirror, Caro heard the sound of her intercom buzzer like a diver hears voices from the surface, it was soft and warped, and she was so deep in her dream, so lost in the spell, it simply didn’t register. She turned sideways, to look back over her shoulder. There were many words she might have used to describe herself, elegant, chic, sophisticated, but the rose-tinted glasses were off now and beautiful was not among them and she was at peace with that. The dress, however? Well, the dress remained gorgeous. Across her back she could feel the pull of the zipper, a tension that hadn’t been there on her last fitting. She bought her hands to her chin and turned back. Is that you? she whispered, Is that really you? And suddenly her hand was at her mouth and her eyes were full of tears and she was unsteady in the flow of a sudden and warm yearning. A desire strong enough to raise the dead, to haul her mother up and out of her grave, have her standing alongside, finally proud.
Dipping her head, Caro put her hands on her hips and took a short shuddery breath. Her mother had beenburied twenty months ago, in a cemetery less than a mile from the terraced house she had spent all her life in.A small funeral, for a small life and exactly why today, she had wanted as much family around her as possible. Her brother, of course, and Helen and Kay, naturally. But her godchildren as well, Alex and Libby. And Kay’s father, whom she’d known since she was eighteen years old. The constants in her life: these were the faces waiting for her. The thought made her smile. ‘I’m getting married,’ she whispered. ‘What would you say about that, mum?’
The answer came from the intercom, a louder, more urgent buzz than that of a moment ago. Frowning, Caro picked up her phone and checked the time. Her car wasn’t due for twenty minutes. She slipped off her shoes and padded to the front door. They would have to wait. She wasn’t ready, and they would just have to wait.
But it wasn’t the driver, it was Tomasz, and as she pressed the buzzer to let him in, the reality of the words they had just exchanged, versus the implications of them was such a juxtaposition, her brain couldn’t keep up.
‘It’s me, can you let me up?’
‘What are you doing here?’
‘We need to talk.’
So, the moment was long; the moment in which she stood with her hand on the door handle, looking at him. He was in his wedding suit, a fact that as she put her hand on her heart and exhaled, gave relief. Panic receding, she stepped aside to let him in.
‘What’s going on? We’re not supposed ––’
‘Let’s go and sit down,’ he said quietly.
‘Tomasz?’ She followed him along the hallway. Something must have happened. They were doing it traditionally, and he’d stayed with a friend last night. The same friend, who was going to be his best man, with whom he should be at the registry office right now. Maybe the friend had let him down?
‘Sit down, Caro.’
She did, watching as he took the chair opposite. Although he didn’t sit. He perched, half on, half off, elbows on his knees as he clasped his hands together and looked at the floor.
‘What’s going on?’
But he didn’t look up, and with every second that ticked past, a numbness spread. From her toes to her shins, to her gut, seeping upward like a stain, until it was at her fingertips and her hands lay, useless on her lap. It wasn’t the friend.
‘Caro.’ Now he lifted his head. ‘This is the hardest thing.’
Caro nodded, the stiff double-stitched edge of her sweetheart neckline cutting into her skin. It wasn’t a dress made for sitting. ‘What?’ she managed.
‘I don’t think you’re being honest with me. And until I’m sure …’ Tomasz paused. He looked up at the ceiling, took a deep breath and finished, ‘Until I’m sure, I can’t do this.’
The words were physical, like hands around her neck. She squeezed her knees together, an instinctive response to a dreadful fear. He knew then. Somehow – and she was already somersaulting backward, trying to join the dots – he had found out about Spencer Cooper. Had discovered how easily she had climbed into another man’s bed, the thinness of flattery that had been needed. Her hands went clammy; her heart rolled into her throat.
‘If there’s something you want to tell me,’ he said, ‘then I need to hear it. Now.’
And because she couldn’t look him in the eye, because she wanted to rewind her life, go back to that moment at The Langmere, and re-write the scene, she kept her eyes fixed on her lap, on the beautiful pearls, of her beautiful dress.
‘It’s only fair, Caro.’ He slid off the chair onto his knees, taking her hands in his, as if it were the other way around, as if this were the beginning and he was asking her to marry him; not telling her that he couldn’t. ‘I need to hear it now,’ he said. ‘Not a year later, when it’s too late.’
‘What do you want me to say?’ she whispered. Such a coward. Even now with her back against the wall.
‘That this is what you want. That you are completely sure, about what we’re doing. And this is really what you want.’
Poof! Everything vanished. The clamminess of her hands, the weight of her heart in her mouth. All gone. The remembrance of how she had leaned back to show her legs off, the I would have loved to … All gone because … ‘The smallholding?’ she said, sun in her world and her face again. ‘You mean the smallholding?’
Slowly, Tomasz let go of her hands and edged back to his seat. ‘Of course,’ he said, not taking his eyes off her. ‘Of course, the smallholding.’
‘Yes!’ Caro smiled, almost delirious with relief as she pressed her hands together. ‘I told you! I’m a hundred percent sure. And when we get back, we need ––’
‘What did you think I was talking about?’
She blinked.
‘What else, Caro?’
She looked at him, and he looked back at her, and above them, the sky closed over. There was no point in trying to fudge a denial of what they had both so clearly seen. That moment of blue, when she had thought all her storms were over. And if it had been deniable before, a nebulous cloud that she might have dispersed, it had solidified now, this heavy third presence in the room: her dishonesty. She had two choices. She could tell him and lose him. Or not tell him and lose him.
Tomasz shook his head. ‘I can’t do this.’
‘Please.’ But the genie was out of the bottle, and they both knew it.
‘This is not what you want,’ he said, as he stood up. ‘I don’t know what it is that you’re not telling me. I don’t know if you’re having doubts about me, or the move, but something doesn’t add up. You say you’re certain?’ He shrugged. ‘I’m sorry, Caro but I don’t believe you. No,’ he added, raising his palm as if to stop her speaking, as if she’d tried to speak.
Had she? She didn’t know, she sat, hands still clasped, ears ringing.
‘I can’t marry you, when I know you’re not being honest.’
And in the pause that followed, all she had to do was stand up and say, I am being honest. I am. She stayed silent and she stayed sitting.
Hands in his pockets, Tomasz nodded. ‘If we go ahead, one of us - or both of us - is going to end up unhappy. I don’t want that,’ he added. ‘I don’t think either of us have time left for that.’
Still, she didn’t speak.
‘Caro.’ Tomasz sat down again. ‘I know you’ve been trying, but it’s not you. This life we’re trying to make, it’s not you.’
‘It can be,’ she whispered. ‘It really can be.’
‘No.’ He shook his head. ‘I don’t think you even know yourself, what you want.’
Lips pressed together, she listened to the echo of his words. They sounded as if they were coming from a place that was light and spacious, a place that, amidst this sudden darkness, was tantalisingly reachable. ‘OK.’ Slowly, she looked up. ‘You’re right. The smallholding is a lot more work than I had imagined.’ Hearing herself say the words out loud, felt like forcing open a door that had been wedged stuck.
‘It is,’ he agreed. ‘It’s a lot of work.’
‘So.’ Her face brightening, Caro inched forward to the edge of her seat. ‘If we’re not sure, let’s have a re-think? After the wedding, we can move back here and …’
‘No.’
One softly enunciated syllable. No.
‘No?’ she said
‘No,’ he repeated.
‘Why not?’ She’d flung a rope out to him, and he’d walked the other way.
‘Because I am sure,’ he said. ‘This is what I want, Caro. And that leaves us wanting different things.’
‘But we can …’ Her voice died. There was nothing left to say, and as they sat looking at each other they both knew it. If they came back to London, Tomasz at her flat, never going barefoot, doing a job he hated, he would be as unsettled as she had been. It was exactly as he had just said, they wanted different things. ‘What will you do,’ she whispered, as if it was all decided.
‘I’m going back to Poland. I’ll see the contract out first, we made a commitment, and I’ll fulfil it.’
She bit down on her lip. It was decided then.
‘You don’t have to come back. In fact, it’s probably for the best that you don’t.’
As a tang of blood washed through her mouth, the sound of the intercom buzzer filled her ears. They both turned to look. ‘That will be the car,’ she said.
‘I’ll tell him ––’
‘No.’ Already, she was on her feet, moving to the doorway. ‘I’ll do it.’
‘Are you sure?’
Jaw tight, Caro nodded. Whatever needed to be done, she would do. This was her wedding, and she would do it.
‘I’m sorry.’ Tomasz leaned in and kissed her cheek. ‘You look beautiful,’ he choked, and then he was gone.