Chapter 17
Caro
Buying time to pluck up the courage to go in, Caro stopped to look in the window of the menswear shop.
It took a moment to realise that the wavy-haired reflection in the window was her.
She never wore her hair like this but maybe she would in the future.
The thought came back into her mind that she had come down here looking for answers and all she was going to go home with was a new appreciation for the occasional beauty treatment and a shaggy hairstyle.
Perhaps that wouldn’t be such a bad thing. New starts.
She reached for her phone to call the hospital, then stopped.
Todd was taking care of that today. He had it.
A pang of longing took her by surprise. She wanted her mum to be here with her right now.
She wanted to wander around the city, arm in arm, strolling through Christmas markets and sampling mulled wine and hot pies from the stalls she’d seen in George Square when she arrived.
She wanted to be planning their dinner on Christmas Day, a feast like the old days, with Auntie Pearl, Uncle Bob, Todd and the more recent addition of the lovely Jared.
And Mum. She just wanted to be with her mum.
In reality, she would be – even if it was just lying on her bed in the hospital, listening to her breathe.
For the gazillionth time that day she wondered what she was doing here.
Really, what the hell was going on? This wasn’t her.
She didn’t do this kind of stuff. She was a teacher, a responsible adult.
Her only defence was that everything that had happened in the last few months – hell, the last couple of years – had brought her to this point.
Yep, that’s what her lawyer, paid for by Todd’s Crowdfunding, would tell the jury when she was arrested for stalking.
She’d lose her job, of course. And then she’d be skint and have to resort to selling her story to Take A Break.
It was a dark future that was ahead of her if she didn’t cut out this nonsense and go home.
It would have been so much easier just to send Lila a message on Facebook, but she just couldn’t bring herself to do it.
If it was a mistake, she didn’t want to give some poor girl the shock of her life.
If it was true, she didn’t want to alert her dad to the fact that she’d discovered his second family, and have her half-sister find out that way.
Basically, messaging on Facebook was a lose–lose situation for Lila and Caro couldn’t do that to someone she didn’t know, no matter how happy and carefree she seemed.
So she should go home. And she would.
But first…
Okay, you can do this, Caro. Get it together. You’ve got this.
She pushed open the door, immediately coming into the eyeline of a hipster, bearded guy behind the counter to her right, chatting to a young woman whose back was to her.
Caro just about fainted before she realised that it couldn’t be Lila.
This girl had brown hair, swept up in a messy bun on the top of her head.
The guy wasn’t Lila’s boyfriend either. Thanks to Lila’s Facebook, Caro knew he was clean-shaven, tanned, insanely good-looking, usually topless (with finely carved six-pack on show) or fully dressed in incredibly stylish clothes, while presenting her with gifts and calling her ‘babe’.
Honestly, Lila’s life was like a reality show, one in which everyone adored her and showered her with love, affection and jewellery.
‘Hi, can I help you?’ It came from the hipster dude.
‘No thanks, I’m just… looking,’ she answered, immediately making a show of browsing through the nearest rail, although why she would be wanting a three-pack of men’s Calvin Klein boxer shorts she wasn’t entirely sure.
Hipster dude carried on talking to the woman, a friendly conversation, so probably not a customer then.
Okay, two choices. Ask for Lila, or leave.
Actually there was a preferable third, but she knew that taking up residence here and hoping for a cloak of invisibility to keep her presence secret probably wasn’t the most feasible option.
She picked a packet of boxer shorts off the rail and carried them to the till area. That was Todd’s Christmas present sorted.
The guy behind the counter took them with a smile, while the girl asked, ‘Is there anything else you’d like? Actually, I’m not sure why I said that – I work next door, not here. Force of habit.’
Hipster dude feigned exasperation. ‘She tries to steal our customers all the time. Tempts them in with the smell of coconut suntan lotion.’
‘Ah, the holiday shop,’ Caro said, going for pleasant and jocular. ‘I noticed that. If I’m ever looking for coconut suntan lotion I now know where to find it.’
‘Excellent. My work here is done then,’ the interloper declared. ‘Right, Digby, I’m going to shoot off now. If you get a rush just shout and I’ll storm in to the rescue.’
‘No worries, Jen – thanks for the help today.’
‘Pleasure,’ she replied, then turned to Caro. ‘Coconut. We never run out.’
‘Good to know,’ Caro said, laughing now.
The doorbell pinged as she pulled it open and left.
‘Actually, while I’m here… The girl who owns the salon next door…’
‘Suze?’ he said.
‘Yes. Well, I was looking for an old friend and she said that you might be able to help. Lila Anderson?’
Digby nodded. ‘Yeah, that’s the boss’s girlfriend.’
‘Is she here today?’
‘Nah, she doesn’t come in so much.’ He must have sensed her disappointment. ‘But the boss, Cammy – he might be able to help.’
Caro’s heart was thudding out of her chest again and she was fairly sure that very unattractive beads of sweat were forming on her upper lip.
This was it. She was about to take that defining step, because as soon as she’d spoken to Lila’s boyfriend she’d have to tell the whole truth and then there’d be no going back.
Do it? Don’t. Do it? Don’t…
‘Is he around?’
Digby shook his head. ‘Sorry – he’s got the day off today. And he never takes the day off so you’ve just been unlucky.’
She bit back something trivial, like, ‘story of my life’, and replaced it with a more casual, ‘Ah, no worries.’
‘Do you want me to leave a message? Ask him to pass it on?’
Caro shook her head as she lifted the bag containing the boxers. ‘No, it’s fine – thanks. I’ll just drop her a note on Facebook.’
‘You’ll definitely get her on there – she’s never off it.’
‘That sounds like a plan then. Thanks for this,’ she held up the bag and then wondered if he noticed the sweat beads. He probably had that down as guilt, and irrevocable proof that she had another four boxes of Calvin Klein’s up the front of her jacket.
This was ridiculous. She was actually losing the plot altogether.
The door pinged again as she left, her attention immediately grabbed by an Evoque that was practically abandoned in the middle of the road.
That was some crazy parking right there.
The thought momentarily distracted her from the realisation that she had absolutely no idea where to go.
Ok, focus. She was still only a couple of streets away from the station, so she could head back there.
Actually, not could – she should head back there.
This had gone far enough. There was no progress to report, but maybe that was fine.
After all, she had nothing to gain here.
Nothing. If it was her dad cosying up to his other daughter, Lila, in those photos, was he going to come rushing back to her, arms open wide, begging to take care of her?
No. So finding out the truth had absolutely no upside, yet the downside was a whole big hot mess with the potential to create havoc.
Walk away.
Once again, she decided that the best thing to do was to stroll back to the station and get on the next train north. Definitely this time. That was what she should do.
She retraced her steps back to George Square, which was still heaving with revellers.
The afternoon daylight had already almost turned to nightfall, so the brightness of the Christmas lights was stunning.
On any other year, it would fill her with Christmas spirit and joy, make her want to drink mulled wine, and pick up gorgeous little presents for everyone that she loved. Not this year.
The station was directly ahead now, across the square, all she had to do was walk there.
Two minutes max. That was it. Her feet kept on going.
One minute. Keep on striding. Thirty seconds.
That’s when she noticed it – the hotel to the right-hand side of the station, a beautiful old white building with a glass frontage that looked directly on to the square.
Inside she could see people sitting, drinking, chatting, and suddenly she wanted to be in there.
To be one of them. Not a care in the world other than the wait for the next French Martini.
She wanted to shrug the weight and worry of the day off her shoulders and just be another tourist, sitting in a bar, gazing in awe at the Christmas spectacle through the window. The train could wait.
Before she’d even made a conscious decision to do so, she’d changed course. She went inside, reaching the glass frontage just as a couple were leaving a corner table. Perfect timing. The waiter appeared almost instantly.
‘I’ll have a gin and tonic, please.’ This felt so strange. She could honestly say that she had never, ever sat in a bar and drank on her own before. Another first.
He came back with the G&T and deposited it with a small bowl of nuts on the table. Caro asked for the Wi-Fi code before he went, then typed it into her iPad.
Click. Facebook. Search. Lila Anderson.
Lila had posted two, no, hang on, three photos that afternoon so far. Didn’t she do anything without turning it into an attention-seeking expedition? How did she even have time to take so many photos?