32. Chapter 32
Lucy hesitated for a moment before swiping the key card and opening the door, not knowing what she’d find on the other side. She had marched around the gardens for a time after she left breakfast, but as she started her sixth lap she realised guests on the terrace would wonder what the tearful red-faced woman with the napkin was up to, stomping about the grounds. And she couldn’t avoid Jack all morning.
The bed was still in disarray, the pillows on the floor, the sheets a tangled knot. Jack’s bag lay open on the bed as he stuffed clothes and toiletries into it.
Lucy let the door close and leaned against it.
‘I’ve called a cab,’ he said, not looking up at her. ‘I’ll get a train back.’
He rolled up a pair of jeans and tossed them into the bag.
Lucy felt sick. Her mouth was dry, and her palms felt clammy. How could he leave when everything was such a mess?
‘So you were going to just disappear without even saying goodbye? Wow, that’s low, Jack,’ she said, digging the key card into her palm. ‘I can see why your other relationships didn’t work out, if this is how you treat women.’
Even as the words were leaving her mouth, Lucy wished she could shovel them back in.
Jack stopped packing for a moment and looked at her, his expression dark and unreadable. He screwed up a shirt and shoved it into the bag.
‘I messaged you,’ he said tightly. ‘Check your phone.’
Lucy didn’t bother looking at her phone.
‘I’ll take your word for it,’ she said.
Jack took a deep breath and turned to face her.
‘Luce, I wanted to talk this morning—you were the one who walked off.’
‘I just needed a minute, Jack. I didn’t leave. I just needed some space. You’re the one running away now,’ she gestured to his bag, ‘when there’s so much to say.’
Jack looked pained.
‘I am not running away from you. I just don’t know what else I can say now to make this better. And what exactly is there left to say, Luce? You don’t want to hear what I have to say. I can apologise, but I’m not sure that’s good enough for you. I can’t turn back time and do things differently!’
Lucy glared at him but straightened her shoulders.
‘Okay, no—I don’t like that you told half my family and Suzy about New York before me. And I don’t think feeling like that makes me unreasonable. So maybe you don’t want to hear that you could have been a better friend and been honest with me.’ Her voice trembled. ‘If you’d been honest with me, and I had all the information, maybe last night would never have happened, and we wouldn’t be in this mess now. You obviously feel like it was a mistake and can’t even bear to talk about it, so just go. Go home, then go to New York.’
She ran out of breath and stopped, panting.
Jack marched up to her and stopped inches from her face.
‘Don’t do that. You’re smarter than that, Luce.’ His eyes glinted at her. ‘Don’t make out like it’s so simple, like there’s nothing for me to weigh up here, about my business, about everything I have worked for…’ he broke off abruptly and turned away from her. ‘This is a complication I don’t need.’
Lucy felt like she had been punched.
‘I’m a complication?’
Jack was shaking his head as he reached out to her. ‘No, no, I don’t mean that you are a complication. I mean that this,’ he gestured between them. ‘Last night, it was all…unexpected. You know that. Maybe,’ he looked torn, ‘maybe if there was time, then we could see if this was something. But the contract needs to be returned tomorrow.’ He took a breath. ‘I’m due to leave in a few weeks. There’s no way of knowing if this is anything…’
‘I didn’t ask you for anything, Jack,’ Lucy said, balling her hands into fists at her sides. ‘If you weren’t so busy trying to get out the door, you might have noticed that.’
They were both breathing heavily, and no one spoke for a few moments. Jack folded up a T-shirt and tucked it into a corner of the bag.
‘I wish you had told me about New York, Jack.’ Her voice was soft and quiet. ‘I would have done nothing but support you, you know that. I would have arranged your farewell party and driven you to the airport and…and waved you off.’
Her voice cracked.
Jack didn’t look at her as he shoved a toiletry bag in and zipped up the holdall.
‘I know you would have.’ His voice was quiet. ‘Nothing is final yet,’ he said, picking up the bag. ‘I have to return the contract tomorrow.’
‘Well,’ Lucy said, her tone tart, ‘best you hop along to get your train then.’
‘Luce,’ he stepped towards the door and was so close, she leaned back into the wall. ‘I know you’re not in a mood to listen to me, but I want you to know that last night was,’ he hesitated and stared at the floor for a moment, ‘it was probably…’ his eyes flicked up to hers for a split second. In a hoarse voice, he managed, ‘It was amazing.’
He swallowed and raked a hand through his hair.
Lucy was holding her breath. ‘But I’m in the middle of something, and I have to see it through. I’m not good at…’ he gestured back and forth between them, ‘this.’
‘No problem, Jack.’
She pulled herself up to her full height and smoothed down her hair. She would reclaim some dignity if it killed her.
‘I’m not good at this either.’
Her voice was quavering, but she forced the words out.
‘Probably best we leave it here.’
Jack looked haunted and swayed towards her. For a moment, she thought he was going to kiss her, but then she heard the snick of the door latch. Light flooded in from the brightly lit corridor. He slipped through the door and was gone.
The door clicked shut with a finality that sounded like the ending of a friendship. She wanted to run after him, stop him from leaving, but she didn’t know what she would say, and her legs felt like jelly.
She glanced around the room. It was emptier now. The messed-up bed was a rude testament to their night together, despite how much had changed since then. Jack’s clothes from the night before that he had stripped off and dropped where he stood were gone. The T-shirts flung over the back of the chaise longue gone too. His watch, phone charger—gone from the bedside table. The faint spicy smell of his aftershave lingered as the only trace of him.
Tears welled up and spilled over in silence, sliding down Lucy’s face, falling onto her T-shirt. She slid down the wall and huddled in the corner, hugging her knees to her chest, her breath coming in gulps.
Her phone beeped, and she shifted to pull it out of her pocket, rubbing tears away to squint at the screen. It was Ollie. She sagged back against the wall. Lucy had hoped it would be a message from Jack, saying it was all a mistake and he had sent the cab away so they could talk.
She squinted through teary eyes at the screen.
‘Sis! Where are you? Lunch in an hour—final celebrations before we go on honeymoon!’
Lucy tossed the phone onto the bed and rubbed her eyes. Her T-shirt was damp, her hair was a tangled mess, and she needed to check out of her room. She couldn’t show up at lunch like this.
She dragged herself up and shuffled into the bathroom.
The pounding water from the shower restored her slightly, and she pinned up her damp hair and slipped on a loose sundress. Sniffing and swiping at her eyes, she dragged herself around the room, gathering up her belongings. The bottle green dress was pooled on the floor, where she had kicked it off just hours ago. She bent to retrieve it, balled it up, and threw it into her bag. As she turned, she saw something sticking out from under the bed; she pulled it out. It was Jack’s tie, still in a loose knot from the night before. She sat down heavily on the bed, running the tie through her fingers. She knew this was one of only two ties Jack owned, bought for the rare situations he found himself in when wearing a tie was unavoidable. She smiled as she remembered the last time she had seen him in this tie, when she had accompanied him to a national business dinner where he was being given an award. He had grumbled all the way there and fiddled with his collar all through dinner. The tie came off straight after his acceptance speech. Her lip trembled, and tears welled up. Her phone buzzed. Ollie again. She buried the tie deep amongst her hurriedly packed clothes, piled her bags high onto her wheeled suitcase and spilled out of the room and into the corridor. She had to put her cases in the car and tidy up her blotchy face before her mother saw her.
Lunch outside on the terrace was a smaller group now. Some of the guests had already left, while a few others nursed hangovers and lurked in the shadows with glasses of water and paracetamol. They waved weakly at the lunch party and went back to filling in memory blanks from the night before. Ollie looked bright and cheerful, not a trace of a hangover. The result, Lucy assumed, of Sophie solicitously feeding him cake and pints of water the night before. Beside him, Sophie glowed in a red polka dot sun dress. Georgia and Dave were exchanging knowing glances and were clearly holding hands under the table. James fussed over Valerie at the head of the table, pouring her water.
‘Lucy!’ Ollie jumped up when he saw her. ‘Come and sit near us.’
He beckoned her over and indicated a seat opposite him and Sophie. Valerie gave a gracious, queen-like wave as Lucy stepped up to the table, and her father blew her a kiss.
‘Babes, we need two seats. Where will Jack sit?’ Sophie asked, looking at the chair on its own, wedged between Georgia on one side and Greg on the other.
‘Oh, it’s okay,’ Lucy said, forcing cheerfulness. ‘He had to leave early.’ She concentrated on keeping her voice level. ‘He’s got some work things to sort out.’
She hoped that would be the end of it, but Ollie leaned in and said, ‘Oh yeah, Dad said he got a great offer for his company.’ Fantastic—Ollie knew too. ‘Said he might have to move to New York for a year!’
‘That’s amazing! Will you go to New York with him?’ Sophie asked, helping herself to more salmon.
Wow, this lie just kept on giving.
‘Nope,’ she said, as evenly as she could manage. ‘No plans to.’
Sophie looked concerned. ‘Won’t that be hard though?’ she asked, her head on one side, her face a picture of concern. ‘Being apart for a year?’
Lucy felt her eyes start to burn. She willed one of the kids to do something astoundingly naughty, or for a waiter to drop a tower of plates.
But Peter was the picture of good behaviour, fully clothed and tucking into chips, and there were no waiters or plate towers in sight. No dramatic event came to her rescue, and Sophie and Ollie were gazing at her, waiting for her answer.
With forced brightness, she said, ‘We’ll manage.’
Sophie looked puzzled, but Lucy quickly changed the subject.
‘So! Your honeymoon—remind me where you’re going?’
She knew full well where they were going, for how long, and where they were flying from, but needed the conversation to move on.
Ollie and Sophie grinned at each other.
‘We leave for the airport soon, and by this time tomorrow, we’ll be relaxing on a beach in the Maldives!’
Sophie giggled with excitement and clapped her hands.
Lucy chewed on a piece of bread, smiled and nodded.
‘How exciting!’ she said as she ripped another piece, taking out her feelings on the poor baguette.
‘Hi, little blister.’ Heather appeared behind her and squeezed her shoulder. ‘How are you?’
She plumped down in a seat across from Lucy and slipped off her dark glasses, taking in Lucy’s red-rimmed eyes and pale face. Lucy wished she had been more heavy-handed with the make-up.
‘Oof, looking a bit rough. Heavy night, was it?’
Lucy’s mouth was dry, and she struggled to swallow the bread.
‘No,’ she said, clutching her water glass. ‘Not really, just tired.’
‘Where’s Jack?’ Heather asked, looking about. ‘Still getting dressed?’
Lucy, still trying to swallow the rest of the bread, which was remarkably difficult, as it seemed to have sucked all the moisture from her mouth, shook her head.
Sophie interjected.
‘No, he’s had to go early, poor thing.’
She reached over and patted Lucy’s hand.
God, this was torture, Lucy thought. There clearly was a vengeful God who hated liars, and she was being thoroughly punished for transgressing. She mentally apologised to God, swearing she’d learnt her lesson and would never lie again—once she’d got herself out of this one. Except tiny white lies so as not to hurt people’s feelings.
Heather was peering at her.
‘Really? Why? What did you do?’
Lucy thought she might throw up the bread right in front of everyone. Sophie, her new spokeswoman, continued for her.
‘Heather,’ Sophie laughed. ‘Why would you think it would be Lucy’s fault?’
Lucy’s heart went out to her new sister-in-law in gratitude, and she gulped down some water.
Sophie continued, ‘Jack’s just got to do some stuff for work.’
Heather raised an eyebrow and poured herself some wine.
‘He might be selling his company and moving to New York,’ Ollie added helpfully.
Lucy spluttered into her water glass.
‘For a year,’ Sophie said in a loud whisper.
Oh good.
Now everyone knew.
‘Wow! Big news!’ Heather said, sipping her wine and angling towards Lucy. ‘So, are you moving too?’
Lucy felt she had landed in a particularly painful Groundhog Day, trapped in her own lie.
‘No,’ she said, forcing the words out, shredding bread into tiny pieces onto her plate, ‘I’m staying put.’
‘Oh gosh, Lucy,’ Heather said, genuine compassion on her face, ‘that’ll be tough.’
You have no idea.
She gave a wobbly smile and splashed more water into her glass, spilling some on the table.
Beside her, Georgia and Dave slipped out of their seats and along the terrace into the gardens, where they rounded a corner and disappeared from view.
‘Ahhh, isn’t it gorgeous to see them together?’ Sophie said, looking after them.
A strangled noise escaped from Lucy’s throat. She pushed back her chair roughly as she scrambled to get away from the group. Hand to her mouth, she stumbled down the steps into the gardens.
‘Lucy!’ Ollie called. ‘Lucy, what is it?’
‘Leave her,’ she heard Heather say, ‘always the drama queen.’
Deeper into the gardens she went, desperate to get away from the questions and the sympathy for a loss that was never hers to grieve in the first place.
A voice brought her up short. ‘Lucy Georgina Carmell, stop there! What is this nonsense?’