Chapter 5
Climbing Rose Cottage, St Aidan, Cornwall
Papering over the cracks
Saturday
When Tia rings me late on Saturday afternoon, I’m kneading pizza dough. She says it’s for a quick catch-up, but I know it’s to check that I’m still on board with Jess’s new job.
‘Promise me you’ll get in touch with our model groom and lock in a sunny day for next week?’ she asks.
‘Leave it with me.’ I end the call and go back to my dough.
Lando suddenly cropping up in St Aidan is spinning me back to the past in the worst way, because for the first few years of Nemmie’s life, the fear of him returning was like a spectre hanging over me.
Some women have contented babies and find motherhood easy; for me it was anything but.
As a newborn, Nemmie cried around the clock, struggled to feed and put on weight, and once she did feed she had reflux.
For the first year of her life, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was failing Nemmie at every turn because I wasn’t able to cope.
As my despair plunged to depths I hadn’t thought possible, I became very aware of how this would look to Lando if he came back – how he’d be completely justified in thinking he could do a better job himself.
Faced with the backing of his big-shot family, I’d be too weak to stand up to him, and if it came to court, I wouldn’t have a leg to stand on.
The worry was real enough to cripple me at the time, and it took years of me learning to manage better to fully leave it behind, which is why those memories are still clear enough to make me shiver even now.
I’m always telling Nemmie that the best way to conquer her fears is to face them head-on, and this time I need to take my own advice.
No doubt I could put off the shoot with Lando, but do I really want it hanging over me making me feel more of a wimp every day?
I’d rather storm the demon head-on, put this hour of filming behind me, and get on with the rest of my life.
If luck is with me and we get something on the first take it might even be shorter.
I take a deep breath and tell myself not to overthink it. My thumbs are over the keys and I’m about to tap when Nemmie calls from the sofa.
‘Are you cross because you fell in the water, Mum?’
I’m taken aback. ‘Why would you think that? I love an early morning dip in the sea, especially when it’s spontaneous and entirely unexpected.’
Nemmie wrinkles her nose. ‘Even in a wedding gown?’
I laugh. ‘It’s only like the “swimming in pyjamas” you do for your water skills badges.’
Mum cuts in. ‘Dawn says the dress has come out beautifully.’ There’s a second of hesitation. ‘It’s all around the village. They were asking after Lando too… Had he changed? Did he look well?’
I resist my flinch at hearing his name, ignore that this is taking ‘asking for a friend’ to new lengths, and say it how it was. ‘He looked wet. Otherwise much the same.’ I give a shrug and bring out a line I know will take the heat off me. ‘He was on a boat with a woman.’
‘Really?!’ Mum’s eyebrows shoot up. ‘Anyone we know?’
I sniff. ‘No one I recognised. Ten years on, that’s unsurprising.’
Nemmie turns on me. ‘You’ve got your sad face on again now, Mum! Seriously, what’s wrong?’
I kick myself for being so transparent, and beam at her instead. ‘Is that better? It’s chocolate pudding for dinner, so we should all be happy after that.’
Nemmie, Dale and Zara are already at my elbow. ‘Can we lick the bowl out? Can we crack the eggs?’
I guide them back towards the sofa. ‘Sit back down. We’ll do the pizza toppings first and then I’ll call you when the dough is ready to roll out.’
I step over Angel, who is lying fast asleep as close to my feet as he could get, and slide onto a bar stool behind the kitchen island. Once the singalong restarts on the sofa, I bring out my phone again.
The sooner I text Lando, the sooner I can move on.
Hi Lando, photo call 10 am Tuesday. Be at the shop for 9 and Oliver from Groomswear will sort out your outfit. See you there, Maeve
When I read it back after I press send, it’s short, sharp, and shows I mean business. Best of all, there’ll be no need for me to jump every time there’s a ping in my inbox for the rest of the weekend as there’s absolutely no need for a reply.
I slam the door in my brain and shut Lando safely on the other side, and for a whole three seconds, I’m back to how I was. Then my phone pings, and I lurch so hard I slide off my stool and almost squash Angel as I land on the herringbone flooring.
I pull my phone from under the dishwasher, clamber back to my feet, steady myself by the island edge, and look at my screen.
You’re assuming I’m free, Maevey W?
This is exactly the kind of back-and-forth conversation I wanted to avoid.
Yep (I am)
My phone pings again.
You’re in luck. Hope it’s going to be a fun-packed morning?
I refuse to spend a whole morning.
We should be done in minutes not hours. See you Tuesday. M
It wasn’t worth the fall.
And I hate that it feels like he’s back in our kitchen. It’s a new extension – he never actually came in this bit – but even so.
Despite me falling off three more chairs and a sofa when my phone pings during Sunday, that’s all I hear from him. I can’t help thinking: one brief appearance and already the waves of disruption are moving outwards in rings that just get bigger and bigger.
After so long without Lando, he’s suddenly terrifyingly close. I can’t even begin to think how it’s going to feel spending time with him. Hearing him talk. Seeing him as a living, breathing three-dimensional person, rather than as a shadowy image in the past.
An hour on Tuesday, and then we can dispatch him off into oblivion. We have to dispatch him. Because the alternative doesn’t bear thinking about.