Chapter Twenty-Seven
Diane had spent the last hour in the coffee shop sewing a pattern of silvery buttons onto a black top for Tamzin so that Bryony and Gareth could have some time to talk. Their relationship was under repair. Diane wanted Gareth and Bryony to have a relationship because it would be good for Bryony and, presently, Bryony’s child. Bryony was unarguably warming to her father again and if Gareth chose not to look any further than superficially good relations then Diane wasn’t about to interfere.
Then Bryony, not yet having found a decent car to suit her bank balance, had taken the Peugeot into Peterborough City Centre for a late lunch with her grandfather — she was seeing him most weeks — and Diane was stuck at the hospital until she brought it back. Now, sitting beside Gareth’s bed, still sewing, the whiteness of the room made her head ache and her sleep-deprived eyes scratch against her lids. For hours, last night, she’d lain awake, seething, rehearsing what she’d say to Rowan, the bastard.
Oh, to go home and put the sewing away for a bit, open a bottle of wine and nibble her way through a pack of Devon cream toffees over a library book. Instead, she was stuck here, listening to Gareth congratulate himself on how well he was getting on with his daughter.
She examined his self-satisfied smile.
It might make her feel better if she could wipe it from his face.
She searched her mind for a suitably sore subject. ‘Have you had any contact with Stella?’ Gareth’s granite forehead immediately closed down over his eyes. Good choice .
‘Why should I?’
‘I notice that you don’t actually answer yes or no. Why should you have contact with her? Because you’ve been having an affair with her for years and she might want to talk about why it’s ended? Or you might want to start things up again? Or the whole finale was just a charade for my benefit?’ She bit off her thread and unwound more from the spool with swift, assured movements. She’d been working like a maniac on the order for Unity’s. This special piece for Tamzin was something she’d slotted in as a favour. Jenneration had secured a spot at The Cavern in Liverpool — so long as they could take at least a coach load of paying guests with them — and Tamzin wanted something really special for the gig to go with black jeans with junk jewellery dangling from the waistband.
‘Don’t be stupid,’ he replied.
Diane threaded the needle and knotted the ends. There could be few requests more likely to enrage her than that she refrain from being stupid.
Although, sometimes, she thought she had been very stupid indeed.
In the weeks since she’d quashed the possibility of an affair with James she’d seen the world in greyscale. The meeting at The Old Dog yesterday had come perilously close to a row because she hated seeing James without being able to touch him, kiss him, or know the pleasure of his body. What if Gareth felt the same about Stella? With a man less controlling and possessive she might even have suggested a little reciprocal blind-eye turning, but not with Gareth. It had been bred into him never to let another take what he considered his. No matter what he’d done himself there would be no hope of maintaining the semblance of a relationship even for Bryony’s sake, under those circumstances.
She set the first stitch and prepared to ascend new heights of stupidity. ‘You’ve got your metalwork off your hip and you’re out of traction. You’ll be home in a few days. I just wondered how the land lay. If you’ll be expecting me to drive you out to your cottage for meetings.’
He set his jaw. The swelling had almost all gone now and also the bruising, returning his face to its habitual hardness. ‘Are you deliberately trying to start a row?’
She selected a button, a really tiny one, and held it to the fabric with her thumbnail while she thrust the needle through. ‘I don’t have to try.’ She dropped her work on the bed and slipped her hand beneath his pillow.
‘Don’t you dare!’ he snapped in outrage, but even though his arm was out of plaster and into some stretchy supporting affair, he was no match for her agility. He turned puce as, safely out of his range, she scrolled down first his Dialled Calls and then his Received Calls.
‘You’re a fibber,’ she announced, in mock reproof. ‘Stella is ringing you and you’re ringing her. You rang her yesterday.’ She tossed the phone down beside him, and retrieved Tamzin’s black T-shirt from the floor where it had fallen. ‘I thought I’d make it plain that I’m finally awake to your games. I expect openness from you. However shitty the truth.’
His mouth was a straight line.
‘I don’t care about Stella for myself but Bryony cares a lot. She’s going to have a tough time bringing up a baby without a father and we’ve agreed to be there for her. But you’re not keeping up your end of the bargain, are you? For the sake of your wallet you seem to want me to stay, so, for the sake of your daughter you’re going to have to give up your lover.’ Like I had to .
She gave him a few minutes to chew that over before introducing the next irritating subject. ‘I’ve bought a new bed; it was delivered yesterday.’
‘What was wrong with the old one?’ He rapped it out in the old Gareth way, expecting her to run every decision past him for approval. Well, he could bloody well stop all that nonsense.
‘Actually, it’s so ancient I’m surprised you can lower yourself to use it after the luxury of the king size at your cottage. But I didn’t buy the new bed to replace our old one. It’s as well. I’m making the dining room into my work room, as we generally eat in the kitchen, and my old work room into my bedroom. I no longer want to sleep with you.’
She selected another button, glancing up. ‘You surely don’t think that after all the nasty tricks you’ve played that I want intimacy? If it weren’t for Bryony’s situation I would be looking for a divorce, frankly. But she needs the comfort of a friendly family unit, right now. The only way I can remain friendly with you is to have my own room. I’ll be your nurse until you’re fully fit again, then I’ll be your house-mate — but I won’t be your lover.’
Gareth took a sip from his squash before answering. He was drinking from a normal glass now. His voice was thin, surprised. ‘But what will Bryony think?’
Diane put her work down on her lap and gave him the benefit of her direct blue-eyed stare. ‘She thinks that our relationship has undergone a radical change and that the situation is irretrievable, because that’s what I’ve told her. The truth. I’ve explained that, us all being grown ups and probably reasonably fond of each other under it all, this is the best way forward.’
Gareth’s eyes were hazel pools of shock and, as he seemed temporarily lost for words, Diane picked her work up again. She was sick to her stomach of sewing; she was sewing her fingers off. She wished she could take a week off, like normal people did. Perhaps she’d jump on an aeroplane after she got the balance of her money from Unity. The school term would’ve begun and Spain or Italy would be lovely and quiet. She could read, eat ice cream, drink coffee, swim in the turquoise sea. If Gareth wasn’t able to take care of himself by then he could hire a nurse for a week. It wasn’t like he didn’t have the funds.
She picked up a big saucer-like button, mock mother-of-pearl. The hospital seemed incredibly noisy today. There had been a loud beeping coming from somewhere and what sounded like a rugby team racing around the corridor. ‘While we’re laying out ground rules for the new order of our marriage, let’s talk about money.’
That got his attention. ‘What about it?’
‘I’ve opened a couple of accounts in my own name. I propose that we split all household bills down the middle, ditto the groceries, and apart from that keep our money separate.’
His eyebrows flipped up. ‘Should I be asking if there’s a catch?’
‘Not so much a catch as a few provisos. The mortgage stands at just under ￡20,000. I want you to pay it off. And I don’t want you ever to query what I do with my money and neither will I with yours. In other words, you get to keep nearly all your cash in your own grubby paws. Right?’
‘Right,’ he agreed, cautiously, as if looking for a catch no matter what she said about provisos.
‘And I have a new money-making scheme for you — sue Valerie. I think it’s an interesting point whether you will do this to a sibling. But I was reading in the paper about claims for damages and you’ve certainly been damaged, so I thought I’d mention it to you.’
He replied, stiffly. ‘In fact, that’s common practice. Valerie wouldn’t pay, her insurance company would. But I haven’t seen a solicitor.’ His eyes lit up suddenly. ‘In the next couple of days the nurses are going to get me used to a wheelchair and take me in to Valerie’s room. I’ll talk it over with her.’
Diane put down her sewing to give him her best school marm look. ‘Gareth, you have seen a solicitor because one of the nurses let it out accidentally. No doubt you were establishing what you can do to protect your fortune if I go for a divorce . . . hell’s bells, what’s that?’ She lunged to her feet.
The scream had been unearthly.
Gareth tried to pull himself up, glancing towards the door. ‘Is it human?’
‘It’s a woman.’ Diane frowned and cocked her head. Then she caught a familiar voice.
Quickly, she threw down her work and crossed to the door. Hesitated, hand on the chrome door plate, frowning. She opened the door a few inches; the heartbreaking wails becoming louder — and the familiar voice also.
She pushed the portal wider and darted through.