Chapter Eight
November 2014, London, England
Molly arrived at Mark’s flat after staying late at work and taking a ridiculously expensive taxi ride to Canary Wharf. She had winced as she’d paid the driver, but there was no way she could have got the Tube on her own.
‘Evening, gorgeous,’ Mark said as he opened the door to her and ushered her inside.
She beamed at him, her stomach fluttering as he slid his arms around her. ‘Right back at you.’
He was a good few inches taller than her, and she had to stand on her tiptoes to kiss him, running her hands through his dark hair. She breathed in his woody aftershave and squealed as he lifted her up, running his lips down her neck.
‘Wow, you’re pleased to see me, huh?’ she whispered.
‘It’s been a long time,’ he replied, his teeth grazing her skin. He took her coat from her and hung it on the hook behind her , then wheeled her case into his bedroom.
She went into the living room and tried to make herself comfy on the boxy leather sofa, then pulled her phone out of her bag to send a message to Saskia.
Molly: Got to Mark’s safely. Hope work was OK, and you got some good leftovers. Love you X
Mark walked back in with two glasses of wine, handing one to her, before sitting down next to her. ‘Santé.’ He clinked his glass against hers. ‘Glad it’s the weekend?’
‘I’m glad that I get to spend it with you.’ She took a sip of her wine.
‘Same.’ He frowned at her canvas satchel. ‘That bag is hideous.’
‘Are we going to go there again?’ She rolled her eyes.
He pushed up the sleeves of his cashmere sweater. ‘You didn’t get mugged just because you were carrying a ￡600 handbag.’
She shrugged. ‘I was mugged the day after you gave it to me. No one was ever interested in this bag.’
‘I said I was sorry, and I meant it. That bag was a gift. I had no idea that would happen.’ His jaw tightened.
‘Maybe we should just stop talking about it,’ she said. ‘I appreciated the gift, and the sentiment behind it.’
He nodded. ‘So you’re over it now?’
‘I don’t know about over it.’ She paused. ‘I’m seeing Colette again, and Ed and Karl have been so supportive. I made a friend on the train too.’
‘What’s she like?’ he asked.
‘He is very nice,’ she said. ‘He works in IT at Invest Tech. Do you know it? Their building is near mine.’
‘Yeah, I know it.’ He stood up, frowning at her. ‘So, this guy has randomly decided to sit next to you every night, for no reason. What’s he expecting in return?’
‘Cake!’ She burst out into nervous laughter. ‘I’m the baker, he’s my bodyguard.’
‘Right.’ He nodded. ‘That’s all he wants. Cake?’
‘What’s this about?’ She stood up and folded her arms. ‘He is my friend. He’s helped me through a difficult time.’ She wanted to say that Chris had shown more concern for her than Mark had, but now was not the time. It would only make things worse.
He took her hands in his. ‘I’m jealous, Moll. I’ve been away for ages, and I don’t like thinking about you with another man.’
‘I’m not with another man,’ she said. Not even in her head. She’d pushed all thoughts of Chris away. He was her friend and nothing more.
‘I’m sorry, I don’t want to argue with you.’ He kissed her. ‘I just want you all to myself.’
She kissed him back, softly at first, then slid her hand to the back of his neck, her fingers gripping the short hair there. ‘I want you too.’
***
Molly woke up in Mark’s dark bedroom, realising the bed was empty next to her. She pulled his bathrobe over her floral pyjamas and walked into the kitchen.
‘Morning Moll.’ Mark smiled at her, as he spread butter on his toast, under the glare of the spotlights in his high tech, minimalist kitchen. ‘I didn’t want to wake you. Do you want a coffee?’
She frowned at him. ‘You know I don’t drink coffee.’ After four years why didn’t he remember that? ‘Do you still have some of my tea bags here?’
‘Of course. In the cupboard.’ He nodded to the cupboard behind him.
She flicked the kettle on and slid her arms around him, kissing his cheek. ‘What’s the plan for today?’ She stole a piece of his toast and sat on one of the stools tucked under the end of his kitchen island.
He put another slice of bread into the toaster. ‘They have an exhibition of pirate and privateer artefacts at the Maritime Museum. I thought that you might like to go to that.’
‘I would,’ Molly said, her eyes lighting up. ‘You know how much I love pirates.’
‘I do. My mum’s asked us to go over for dinner.’ He paused. ‘But we don’t have to. I can book a restaurant.’
‘I’d love to see your mum,’ she replied, wishing she could pop round to see her own mum for dinner, and feeling annoyed that Mark was so blasé about his mum. His dad was another matter. She would gladly go a long time without seeing him, and so would Mark.
He handed her a jar of apricot jam - her favourite - and she spread it onto the plate of toast that he passed her. ‘I’ll let her know we’ll be coming over.’ Picking up his own plate of toast and coffee, he sat down next to her. ‘She sends me all these messages all the time. I don’t think she’s got used to me not being around so much now that I”ve got this job.’
‘I don’t think I have either,’ she said softly as she ate her toast.
His expression was unreadable, and she wondered what he was thinking. He said nothing, just sipped his coffee and ate his toast.
‘Sorry that I don’t have any fruit or granola for breakfast,’ he said eventually.
‘It doesn”t matter,’ she said. ‘I didn’t realise I was so predictable.’
He grinned. ‘I could set my watch by you. You have fruit and granola for breakfast. You go to yoga on Thursday evenings and Sunday mornings. You always get Chinese takeaway on a Tuesday night.’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘Do you want me to go on?’
She groaned. ‘I am that predictable, so boring. You’re spot on.’
‘Maybe one day you’ll do something totally out of character, and you’ll surprise yourself.’ He kissed her cheek.
‘Unlikely. Saskia is the unpredictable one. I had to be the boring one, so that she could be the fun one.’ She stared out of the window at the boats going down the Thames.
‘She’s a bit more than unpredictable. Is she still working at the restaurant?’ He brushed the crumbs off his fingers.
‘She’s waiting for a call back for an audition.’ She clutched her mug tightly as she spoke. ‘I don’t know any more than that. Whatever it is, I hope she gets it. She’s been stuck in a rut for so long.’
‘You worry too much about her. She’s an adult. She can make her own choices,’ he replied.
She glared at him. He didn’t understand at all. ‘She’s all I’ve got. I have to take care of her.’
He frowned. ‘That’s not true. What about your dad? What about me?’
Her eyes narrowed as she responded. ‘Papa lives in France; I see him four or five times a year. I see you a couple of times a month when you’re not abroad somewhere. I live with Saskia; I see her every day. I’m bound to be overprotective, I’m her big sister.’
‘You could live here, then we could see more of each other,’ he replied.
‘How would we see more of each other?’ Her chest tightened. ‘You work abroad for most of the month.’ She looked around the room. ‘I’d just be here on my own all the time.’
‘We’d have more time together when I’m here. You wouldn’t be two hours away.’ He took a sip of his coffee. ‘I’m not trying to pressure you into anything. It’s just a suggestion.’
She nodded. He said he wasn’t trying to pressure her, but every time she was here, they had the same conversation. Could she be happy here? She stared out of the window. ‘I suppose I could get used to this view.’
He ran a hand through his messy dark curls. ‘What, you mean me in the morning?’
She gave him a playful shove. ‘No,silly, the one from the window. I love watching the boats. Although…’ She turned her face up towards his. ‘I suppose you’re not that bad to look at either.’
He stood up, his hands on his hips. ‘Not that bad? Is that all you can manage?’
She laughed as he scooped her up and carried her down the hall to his bedroom, throwing her onto the bed. He climbed on top of her, kissing her neck.
‘Aren’t we supposed to be going out?’ she asked.
‘It can wait.’ he replied.
***
The sun shone as Molly walked hand in hand with Mark away from the Maritime Museum.
‘So, was that what you’d expected? They seemed to have some good stuff. As soon as I heard it was pirates, I knew you’d love it.’ Mark slipped his hand into Molly’s as they walked together.
‘I did love it. I love the history of piracy, the support from the monarchy, the double crossing.’ Her eyes lit up. She’d appreciated Mark’s patience as she’d pored over the endless glass cases in the exhibition.
‘What about the violence, press ganging, and the scurvy?’ He frowned. ‘I think you’re kind of glamorising it.’
‘All of history is grim at points. I still like pirates,’ she replied.
He laughed. ‘I don’t understand it.’
‘My dad is descended from some famous French pirate.’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘I can’t remember his name. Maybe that’s why, maybe there’s some kind of connection there. Thank you for taking me, I know it’s not your thing.’
‘Maybe not, but you always come to the Oval with me.’ He kissed her cheek.
‘That’s true. And I can’t stand cricket. Do you want to stop for a drink before we go to your mum’s?’ She nodded to the pub across the road.
‘Sure. Double rum, is it?’ He grinned.
‘Very funny. I’ll have a beer, something in a bottle. I don’t mind what,’ she said as they walked through the door.
‘We always have wine,’ he said as they reached the counter. ‘Since when did you drink beer?’
She lowered her voice. ‘I don’t love wine that much, Mark. I pretended to like it when we met to impress you.’
‘Right.’ He bit his lip. ‘Two Peronis please,’ he said to the barman.
They took a table in the window and Molly zoned out as she drank her beer. Maybe she wasn’t as predictable as Mark thought she was. While he wasn’t there for her, she was always there for him. When he wanted to go out, she was by his side. She’d never seen it from his perspective before. Maybe she was his constant. He had been fiddling with a bar mat for a while now, slipping it between his fingers. He was obviously nervous about going over to his parents’ house. He always was. His mum was kind, sweet and caring, but his dad was an aggressive bully, who Mark was terrified of.
When she’d finished her beer, she returned their empty glasses to the bar, then slid her arm into Mark’s, as they walked down the road to his parents’ house.
They paused on the doorstep, and Molly turned to face Mark. ‘Are you alright?’ she asked.
‘I’m fine,’ he replied. His expression said otherwise. His brow was furrowed and his jaw was tight.
‘If you need to leave at any point, just let me know.’ She took a deep breath. ‘I know things can get…tense between you and your dad.’
‘I said I was fine.’ Mark snapped and rang the doorbell. ‘Can you just leave it?’
Molly swallowed the lump in her throat and plastered on a smile as Mark’s mum, Elisa, opened the door.
‘Habibi!’ Elisa said, putting her arms around Mark before he even got in the door. She kissed his cheek. ‘It’s been so long.’
‘Ummi,’ he said, smiling. ‘Ana asf.’ He kissed her cheek and squeezed her tightly; the frown having disappeared from his face.
Molly plastered on a smile. Mark had snapped at her, but of course the first thing he said to his mum was that he was sorry.
‘Ahlaan, Ummi,’ she said, embracing Elisa.
She called Elisa Ummi, the Arabic work for mother, just like Mark did. She always had. Elisa had insisted on it, and Molly found it comforting after her own mum died, although her Arabic wasn’t as good as Mark’s. She squeezed Elisa’s tiny, bird-like frame. Her olive skin smelt of rosewater and her dark, almost black curls brushed Molly’s cheek as she pulled away from her.
‘Come in,’ Elisa said, ushering Molly inside and closing the door behind her.
Molly walked into the hall of Mark’s parents’ house, immediately comforted as the house was so like hers, a Victorian terrace with a narrow hallway. She took off her coat and hung it on one of the crowded coat hooks and tucked her shoes onto the rack below the coats, stuffed with Mark’s teenage sibling’s shoes.
‘I was starting to forget what you looked like.’ Mark’s dad, Greg raised an eyebrow at Mark as he and Molly walked into the living room.
Molly squeezed Mark’s hand tightly. She didn’t like the way that Greg’s eyes were always slightly narrowed at Mark.
‘Hi, Dad.’ Mark sat down on the cracked leather sofa and smiled at his dad who was sunk into his armchair.
‘And Molly too. Nice to see you, sweetheart.’ Greg gave Molly a tight smile.
‘Is everyone hungry?’ Elisa hovered by the doorway. ‘Greg, the lamb’s ready, can you come and carve it?’
‘Duty calls.’ Greg stood up and nodded to Molly and Mark before following Elisa out of the room.
‘Should we go and help?’ Molly whispered.
‘No, you know Ummi won’t let us.’ Mark squeezed Molly’s thigh. ‘I’m glad you’re here.’
‘I hate the way he talks to you, Mark.’ She kept her voice low.
‘I’m not discussing this now.’ He let go of her leg and stood up, walking out of the room.
She sighed and twiddled her ring around on her finger. He would never discuss it, no matter where they were.
‘Dinner’s ready.’ Elisa walked back into the room. ‘Where did Mark go?’
Molly’s heart sank. ‘I uh…’ She heard footsteps upstairs. ‘I think he went to the bathroom.’
‘Well, come and have a seat.’ Elisa smiled broadly at Molly.
As she walked into the dining room, Mark reappeared. He offered her a tight smile and sat down at the dining table, nodding at her to do the same.
‘It’s quiet without the kids here, isn’t it?’ Elisa smiled at Mark and Molly. ‘They’re out with friends tonight.’
‘That’s a shame, I’ve got some good book recommendations for Riya,’ Molly said. Mark’s younger sister was as much of a bookworm as she was.
‘I’ll let her know,’ Elisa replied. ‘She loved the last ones you suggested. How’s everything going with work, still busy?’
‘As always.’ Molly grinned. ‘How was Morocco?’
‘Wonderful.’ Elisa’s eyes crinkled as she smiled. ‘Much warmer than it is here.’ She rolled her eyes at the rain lashing the windows. ‘Mark, you must come out with us next time. You too, Molly.’
Mark nodded. ‘We will, Ummi.’ He glanced at Molly. ‘It’s been a while since we last went.’
Molly could picture the ornate, tile covered courtyard of Elisa’s family riad. She’d spent many hours there with Mark’s family. They spoke predominantly Arabic, but also French, and a little English. Every time she went, Molly learnt a little more Arabic, but they hadn’t been for the last year as Mark’s job had kept him out of the country so much.
***
After they’d eaten, Molly helped Elisa to clear the plates away into the kitchen.
‘Molly, I made some baklava.’ Elisa proudly showed Molly a decorative ceramic plate filled with delicate pastry squares.
Molly’s eyes lit up. ‘It smells amazing.’
‘Thank you. You and Mark love it, so I wanted to make it for you.’ Elisa smiled and got some small plates out of cupboard, handing them to Molly. ‘Can you take these in for me, and I’ll bring the baklava?’
‘Of course,’ Molly replied.
She picked up the stack of plates, following Elisa back into the dining room, where the atmosphere between Mark and his dad was so tense she could almost feel it. She set the plates down.
‘Mark, Ummi’s made baklava, doesn”t it look good?’ she smiled at him.
Mark helped himself to a piece. ‘Thanks, Ummi.’ He turned to Molly. ‘Have you ever made this?’
Molly shook her head. ‘No, but I’d love to have a go.’
‘It’s not too difficult. I will give you the recipe.’ Elisa picked up a small fork and took a bite of the baklava. ‘I’ll make some more for Christmas. Will you be here then?’
‘Of course,’ Mark replied.
Molly’s eyebrows flew up. It was their turn to be with her family this year. He ignored her gaze and continued talking to his mum. She took a deep breath and continued eating her baklava. She knew why he had said they would both be there. He didn’t want to face his dad without her at his side. She wouldn’t tackle him about it in front of his parents.
‘I can’t wait to have you both here for Christmas again,’ Elisa said, ‘but you’re welcome any time, you know that.’
‘I do,’ Mark said, taking a sip of his wine. ‘I’d love to come over more often, but I’m away so much with work.’
‘Ah yes, the mysterious job.’ Greg gave a hearty laugh. ‘Explain what you do again, Mark?’ he asked.
Mark gave him a tight smile. ‘I manage the European contracts for a global investment company.’
‘Right,’ Greg said. ‘Still doesn’t mean anything to me.’
‘I could explain it to you, if you’d like?’ Mark’s tone was tentative, and he took a sip of his wine, fixing his eyes on his father.
‘Don’t worry, son. I’m not as clever as you. I don’t have a fancy degree. I’m just a greengrocer.’ Greg picked up his glass and took a long gulp.
Elisa stood up and clapped her hands. ‘Right. Who would like a cup of tea?’
‘I’ll help you,’ Mark replied and shot out of his chair, stacking empty plates, and walking out of the room.
Elisa followed, leaving Molly alone with Greg.
‘And how are you getting on then, Molly? Have you made editor yet?’ He narrowed his eyes.
‘No.’ Molly’s breath caught in her throat.
Why was this man so terrifying? He clearly knew the effect he had on people. She held eye contact with him but didn’t say anything else. She was determined not to be scared of him.
Greg cracked his knuckles and sat back in his chair, studying her. ‘You career girls,’ he said. ‘I thought that was what it was about these days. Getting to the top, smashing the glass ceiling.’
‘I’m in a good position where I am,’ Molly said mildly. ‘I wouldn’t necessarily say I was a career girl; I mean someday I want a family too…’ She trailed off as Mark walked back in, putting a cup of tea down in front of her.
‘What are you two talking about?’ Mark asked, sitting down.
‘Ah, Molly was just wondering when you were going to do the decent thing and propose,’ Greg replied. ‘She’s just told me she wants a family, and I assume you’ll want to get married first.’
‘Someday,’ Molly replied, her heart racing, as she tried to keep her voice steady. ‘Someday I would like a family.’
Mark’s face was pale as he gripped his own mug tightly. ‘Exactly,’ he said. ‘There’s no hurry is there?’
‘Hurry for what?’ Elisa asked, bringing in more cups of tea, putting one down in front of Greg and sitting down with her own.
‘A family, Mum,’ Mark said. ‘There’s no hurry for a family.’
‘Oh, but you don’t want to leave it too long,’ Elisa replied. ‘You’re both heading for thirty already, aren’t you?’
‘Mum, I don’t think this is an appropriate conversation,’ Mark said, flicking his eyes at Molly. ‘You’re embarrassing Molly.’
‘She was the one who brought it up,’ Greg said, following Mark’s gaze, his eyes also fixed on Molly.
Molly swallowed a gulp of tea and wished that the ground would open up and swallow her.
***
‘You should see more of your mum. She misses you,’ Molly said as they walked back to the Tube station.
Mark rolled his eyes. ‘She’s got enough on her plate with the other three. I see her as much as I can.’
‘I would love to be able to spend more time with my mum,’ she replied, her voice cracking. She swallowed hard, hoping Mark wouldn’t notice. The warm hug that Elisa always gave her reminded her of her own mum.
‘I’m sure you would,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry that she died, Molly. But your relationship with your family is very different from mine.’
She thought about Mark’s dad and winced as she remembered his laser-like stare. ‘That’s true. But their house is so cosy and welcoming. I guess because it’s just like my house. You know, I had thought about having a family, but I wanted my children to grow up in my mum’s house, just like Saskia and I did.’ She paused. ‘I don’t know if that’s what you want though.’ They’d barely discussed the future over the last four years. Both of them had been focused on their careers.
‘I don’t know what I want right now,’ he replied. ‘As I said, there’s no hurry.’
She nodded. ‘Sure.’ A tiny seed of doubt was growing in her mind. Mark was perfect for right now, but was he the person she wanted to spend the rest of her life with?
He slid his arm around her, and they walked together in silence until the glowing lights of the Tube station appeared in front of them.
When they arrived back at Mark’s apartment, Molly felt full, warm, and sleepy. She slid off her coat and shoes. ‘Tonight was good. Your mum’s cooking is incredible.’
Mark unzipped his coat and hung it next to Molly’s. ‘I guess I should appreciate it more, I grew up with it.’
‘My mum couldn’t cook at all,’ she said, smiling wistfully. ‘She tried her best, but it just wasn’t her thing. Just like me.’
‘Just as well I can then, isn’t it?’ He went into the living room and sat down on the sofa.
‘Can we talk about Christmas?’ she asked, sitting down next to him. ‘It’s actually our turn to be with my family this year.’
‘I’m sure we were at your house last year,’ he said. ‘Why don’t we do Christmas Day with mine, then Boxing Day with yours. Then we can still see both families.’
‘I guess so,’ she said.
She wanted to tell him that actually, she wanted to spend Christmas Day with her family, but she didn’t want to cause an argument. She still felt rattled from Greg’s interrogation and was desperate to put it behind her. She tried to get comfortable on his boxy sofa, unsuccessfully, and sighed.
‘Come here,’ he said, holding out an arm.
She hesitated, then deciding she couldn’t face any more drama tonight, moved closer to him.
He wrapped his arm around her waist, his fingers sliding under the hem of her top. ‘My dad’s a real mood killer, isn’t he?’
Surprised at his willingness to be reflective, Molly looked up at him. ‘He was…hard work tonight.’
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, turning so that he was facing her. He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her.
‘It’s not your fault,’ she said quietly as she pulled away from him.
The tightness of his jaw, and the lack of sparkle in his eyes told her how much his dad’s behaviour was hurting him too.
‘Why don’t we focus on the gorgeous meal your mum made and the box of baklava she gave us. We can polish that off tomorrow.’
‘You always see the positive in everything, Molly,’ he said, running his fingers down her arm. ‘Do you want another drink, or shall we go to bed?’
Squashing her lingering resentment of him, and his dad, she nodded. Maybe connecting physically would be good for both of them. ‘I’ve had enough to drink,’ she said.
He stood up and held out his hand, pulling her to his feet. ‘Then let’s go to bed.
She followed him into the bedroom, where he unzipped her dress and slid it down her body, before tossing it onto the armchair next to his bed.
She pressed her hands against his chest and unbuttoned his shirt, sliding it off and running her fingers over his toned torso. He threw her onto the bed, climbing on next to her. The tense, pained expression he’d had on earlier had disappeared. As he removed her underwear, his eyes lit up, and she squashed the nagging doubt that he wasn’t right for her, in favour of climbing on top of him. It always worked, and this time was no exception.
***
Molly was struggling to keep her eyes open. She was sat opposite Mark in a tiny café in Greenwich, where they’d gone for breakfast, but having hardly slept the night before she was having trouble concentrating on what he was saying. She tried to hide a yawn behind her hand, but judging by the cloudy expression on Mark’s face, she’d failed.
‘Am I boring you?’ Mark asked.
‘No, sorry, it just took me a while to get back to sleep last night.’ She fiddled with the handle of her cup.
Her dreams had taken her back to the station car park again, back to her bag being snatched, the photos of her mum in her purse, taken away. She had fought furiously, and then in the middle of the night freezing cold, woke up, realising that she had thrown the duvet off the bed, annoying Mark. He had been angry, with her, the sharp tone of his voice bouncing off the bare walls of his bedroom.
She’d stared at the plain white ceiling, listening to his breathing, and thought about Chris, his concerned face and the gentle touch of his hand in hers. It was a contrast to Mark’s sharp tone and lack of care. These thoughts had sent her back to sleep, and when she’d woken up this morning, the memory of her nightmare had been replaced with the memory of Chris, and the comforting feeling that rushed through her when he’d offered her his hand on Halloween.
She picked up her cup and took a sip of her tea. ‘Did you go back to sleep?’ she asked Mark.
His face showed no signs of disturbed sleep, unlike hers, which had required a lot of concealer this morning.
‘Eventually,’ he replied. ‘These nightmares, are they a regular thing?’
She nodded. ‘More regular than I’d like.’
‘I thought you were seeing a counsellor.’ He frowned. ‘Can’t she help you?’
‘I have been seeing Colette, but she hasn’t got a magic wand,’ she said. He just didn’t understand. ‘I don’t think about it as much during the day, but at night it’s obviously still on my mind.’
‘You look exhausted.’ He brushed her hair away from her face. ‘I hope this counsellor knows what she’s doing.’
She bit her tongue. There were so many things she wanted to say to him, but she didn’t have the energy to argue with him. She was exhausted and he clearly had absolutely no interest in carrying on the conversation, or trying to understand how much being mugged was still affecting her.