A Summer of Secrets (14 page)

‘You work too hard.’ The slight slur to her voice suggested she’d been at the Babycham, or whatever women like her drank. ‘You need to relax. Unwind a little. And I know just the thing …’

I doubt you do, Rich almost said, dragging his gaze from the two pink cupcakes topped with red jelly tots sitting on his desk that Bethany had made for him yesterday.

‘Let me see what I can do,’ he blustered, desperate to end the call. ‘If I can fit you in, I’ll let you know.’

‘I’d love to fit you in,’ Jemima Blake-Jones cackled.

That being one tipsy innuendo too many, Rich pressed the end call button and tossed the phone onto the desk, his stomach roiling. Instinctively, he reached for the bottle of hand sanitiser, squirted a large dollop onto his hands and vigorously rubbed his palms together. Christ! The last thing he needed right now was some bored, randy housewife trying to get into his boxers. Life was complicated enough at the moment.

In fact, since Alison’s announcement about the North’s Businesswoman of the Year nomination, things had spiralled into the “manic” domain. The phone hadn’t stopped ringing. And it wasn’t just Alison the press were interested in. Both he and Bethany had been swept along on the frenzy, too.

‘They want us to do a family photo shoot for the Sunday edition of the
Herald
,’ Alison had informed him yesterday.

Rich screwed up his nose. ‘But the photographer was only here yesterday.’

‘That was for the
Echo
. A completely different paper.’

Rich shook his head in exasperation. ‘They’ll be asking you to go on
Celebrity Big Brother
next.’

Alison snorted with laughter. ‘Don’t be daft. It’ll only be this mental in the run-up to the competition. After that, life will go back to normal.’

‘Not if you win, it won’t. Then you’ll be competing at national level. And they’ll probably make us do one of those
Through the Keyhole
things. Or a celebrity house-swap. Or send you off to the jungle for a month to eat spiders and stuff.’

Alison collapsed in a fit of giggles. But Rich hadn’t been joking. Not that he wanted to come across as jealous or anything. He wasn’t. Well, okay, maybe he was – a tad. All this attention being showered on his wife did nothing to help his own flailing self-worth. But he hadn’t permitted any of those feelings to detract from his pride in her. In every photo she looked stunning, and in every interview came across as a competent, capable individual, completely worthy of the Businesswoman accolade. In summary, she epitomised the media dream.

But this whirl of unexpected activity meant there’d been no opportunity to tell her about Candi. Not that Rich had been inclined to tell her since she’d made her nomination announcement. Despite his own selfish misgivings, the last thing he wanted was to spoil her moment.

His mobile beeped with a text. Oh, God. If it was from that Blake-Jones woman he’d –

It wasn’t. It was from Alison:

Just remembered about Beth’s dressing-up costume for Friday. Haven’t got time to do anything about it. Pls can you sort? Supposed to be something from the garden.

Oh, Shit.

‘Wow. That’s fantastic news. You must be really proud,’ Candi exclaimed, when Rich finished telling her about Alison’s nomination.

Across the table in the Harrogate café, Rich nodded, before picking up his cup and taking a sip of coffee. For some inexplicable reason, he’d been suffused with a need to call Candi yesterday: to find out how she was; what she’d been up to; to arrange to see her again. But his reasons hadn’t been purely altruistic. With the madness that had enveloped his world lately, he’d felt in need of a calming presence. Candi provided just that.

‘I’m very proud,’ he said. ‘Although things have gone slightly mental since the press found out. It’s like
Big Brother
in our house at the moment.’

Candi laughed, her smile revealing lovely straight white teeth Rich hadn’t noticed before. ‘It sounds great. Really good fun.’

‘Hmm. I’m not sure that’s quite how I’d describe it. But anyway, that’s enough about me. What have you been up to since I last saw you?’

He watched as the smile slid from her face.

‘Oh, nothing much,’ she replied with a shrug. ‘I did some stuff at the dog rescue kennels last week. I volunteer there.’

Rich raised an eyebrow. ‘Right. Well, that sounds interesting.’

Her face lit up again. ‘It is. I love animals.’

‘Well, maybe you should think about a career working with them.’

She shrugged again. ‘Maybe.’ Then, in an undisguised attempt to change the subject. ‘So, what does Bethany make of all this media furore?’

Rich rolled his eyes in mock exasperation. ‘Oh, she’s in her element. Loves dressing up and having her picture taken. And talking about dressing up, I don’t suppose you have any ideas as to a “something from the garden” costume, do you?’

Candi screwed up her nose. ‘Hmm. Something from the garden.’ Her mouth broke into a wide grin. ‘Ha! I’ve just thought of something.’

Chapter Ten

Joe had never been more nervous in his entire life. His legs quivering more than a jelly on top of a high-spin washing machine, he had no idea how he’d managed to drive to the park Gina had suggested they meet in. In fact, he didn’t know how he’d survived the days since the date had been agreed. So knotted had his stomach been that the mere thought of food made him nauseous. And sleep had become a distant memory, replaced by the conjuring up of all manner of scenarios – ranging from Charlie taking an instant dislike to him, to the child recognising him immediately and hurling himself into his arms. But as much as he yearned for the latter, Joe realised the chances of his son recognising him languished somewhere around negligible – a pitiful state of affairs he attempted not to dwell upon.

Fortunately, the day of the meeting dawned glorious. If it had been pouring down and the arrangement cancelled, Joe really didn’t think he could have coped. He found a parking spot outside the park gates, permitting him a direct view of the children’s play area. He spotted Gina immediately, sitting on a bench there. Two short pigtails framed her face, and she wore a pretty, gypsy-style dress in varying shades of green, exposing tanned shoulders. The same shoulders Joe had kissed a bazillion times. The same shoulders he’d slipped his arm around a bazillion times. Something stirred in the pit of his stomach. He quickly dismissed it. Today wasn’t about him and Gina. Today was about him and his son.

Somehow, legs still quaking, he managed to sidle out of the car and make his way over to the playground. Three little boys were haring around, all about the same age. But there was no mistaking Charlie. When Gina had claimed he was Joe’s double, she hadn’t been wrong. Wearing cargo shorts and a blue T-shirt with
Surfer Dude
printed on it, the child had the same dark, wavy hair, the same distinctive bone structure. And as if to confirm his identity, he hurtled into Gina’s arms the moment Joe entered the area. Joe’s already-racing heart increased apace.

‘Hi.’ Gina beamed at him as he approached, her shiny red lipstick of a few days ago now replaced with clear gloss. ‘I’m pleased you could come.’

Briefly returning her smile, Joe’s gaze immediately shifted back to the tiny little body staring up at him – with exactly the same sparkling dark eyes as his own.

‘This is Joe,’ Gina said to the child. ‘He’s … a friend of Mummy’s. Do you want to say hello?’

Charlie didn’t reply, continuing to stare at Joe. Joe held his breath, his heart now hammering harder than a pneumatic drill. This was it. The moment he’d been both dreading and longing for. Which way would it go?

All at once, Charlie stepped forward and extended his hand, his mouth stretching into a huge grin. ‘I’m Charlie. Pleased to meet you.’

A tsunami of relief whooshed through every one of Joe’s veins as he bent down and gently shook the tiny hand. He didn’t want to leave hold of it; wanted to pull the child to him and envelop him in an almighty hug; tell him how much he’d missed him; how not a single hour had passed when he hadn’t thought about him. But he didn’t. He would only confuse him and probably scare him witless in the process.

‘Joe hasn’t been to the playground before,’ Gina informed Charlie. ‘Would you like to show him what to do?’

Charlie nodded, tugging his hand from Joe’s. ‘There are swings,’ he informed him earnestly. ‘And a seesaw. But I like the climbing frame best. I’m good at climbing, aren’t I, Mum?’

‘The best,’ giggled Gina.

‘Can you climb?’ He turned his huge, dark eyes once again to Joe.

Joe couldn’t help it. All the emotion of the last few days hit him like a ten-ton truck. ‘I, er, don’t know,’ he replied, wiping a tear from his cheek. ‘Would you like to show me how it’s done?’

Charlie wrinkled his tiny nose. ‘Okay. But it’s no good crying about it before you’ve even had a try.’

Joe had no idea how long they spent at the playground. He was having such a brilliant time, he didn’t care. Charlie, he discovered, was great fun, doing his utmost to explain how things worked, and collapsing in fits of giggles when Joe pretended to fail miserably. After a while, though, the child announced he was hungry.

‘We really should be getting back,’ said Gina, who, for the most part, had remained on the bench, fiddling with her mobile phone. ‘By the time he has his tea and a bath, it’ll be bedtime.’

Needles of disappointment pricked every inch of Joe’s body. He didn’t want them to leave. The thought of saying goodbye, of returning to his empty flat, made him want to vomit.

‘You could, um, come back to Mum’s with us, if you like. Have a bite to eat,’ Gina ventured diffidently.

A surge of joy swept away all Joe’s previous emotions. ‘Well, if you’re sure it’s not too much trouble …’

‘It isn’t. You can follow me back if you can’t remember where she lives.’

‘I remember.’

She lowered her lashes and smiled shyly. ‘See you there in a bit, then.’

‘You will, indeed,’ confirmed Joe, savouring the delicious feeling of floating on air.

Gina’s mum, Karen, lived in a 1970s semi on a large housing estate, ten minutes’ drive from the park. Apart from some rather garish black and silver wallpaper, a new cream-leather sofa and a palm plant, everything was exactly as Joe remembered it.

Gina was in the process of unfastening Charlie from his car seat when Joe pulled onto the drive behind her yellow Fiesta.

‘Would you mind taking him in?’ she asked. ‘I need to get some bags out of the boot.’

Did he mind taking him in? God, she might as well have asked if he’d mind winning a million quid on the lottery.

‘No problem,’ he replied.

As Gina smiled her thanks and shifted around to the rear of the car, Joe bent down to Charlie in the back seat.

‘Come on then, little fella,’ he said, scooping him up. ‘You can show me where you live now.’

As his son wrapped his arms around his neck, Joe thought he might melt with pleasure.

‘My grandma lives here, too,’ the child informed him. ‘But I still have my own bedroom. I’ll show it to you, if you like.’

‘I’d like that very much,’ replied Joe, carrying him up the path to the back door.

Before he reached it, it flew open and Karen appeared.

‘Well, hello, you two. Have you had a lovely time at the park?’

Joe set Charlie down and the child barrelled into Karen’s arms.

‘We did, Grandma. This is Joe. He’s a friend of Mum’s. And I had to show him how
everything
worked.’

‘Goodness, you have been busy, then,’ Karen remarked, winking at Joe.

‘Very busy, actually,’ Charlie confirmed. ‘He was a bit rubbish at first, but he got better.’

‘Well …’ Karen stifled a laugh. ‘Thank goodness you were there to show him.’

‘I’m going to show him my bedroom now,’ Charlie informed her, wriggling out of her arms. ‘But I want to make sure it’s tidy first.’

And with that, he shot out of the room.

Joe snorted with laughter. ‘What a great kid.’

‘Fantastic,’ Karen agreed, as Gina entered the kitchen, laden down with all kinds of bags.

‘Don’t tell me you’ve been shopping again,’ she remarked.

Gina rolled her eyes. ‘Just a couple of things for next weekend.’

Karen pursed her lips before changing the subject. ‘I’m dashing out, I’m afraid. And I haven’t made anything for tea because I didn’t know what time you’d be back. There’s plenty of pasta and stuff in the fridge, though’

‘Great.’ Gina turned to Joe. ‘Fancy a bit of spag bol?’

Joe grinned back. ‘Absolutely.’

The following hour passed in something of a whirl for Joe. Charlie, overcome with excitement at having someone to show off his bedroom and toys to, dragged him from room to room. Gina, meanwhile, busied herself in the kitchen. As the delicious smell of bolognese sauce began wafting out, Joe realised just how hungry he was. He’d been so nervous the last few days, he’d hardly eaten a thing. Consequently, by the time Gina announced dinner was ready, he was practically salivating.

‘I can twirl spaghetti around my fork,’ Charlie informed him, when all three of them had taken their places at the table. Charlie at the head on his booster seat, Gina and Joe either side of him.

‘Straight after tea it’s bath time, then bed,’ Gina informed him.

‘Oh, but do I have to?’ Charlie wailed.

‘Yes, I’m afraid you do.’

Despite his feeble protestations, Charlie engaged in the bath/bed routine with the minimum of fuss, even kissing Joe goodnight before being whisked up the stairs.

‘He’s shattered,’ Gina announced a few minutes later, arriving back in the kitchen, where Joe had begun washing the dishes. ‘Leave that,’ she insisted. ‘Let’s sit down and have a glass of wine.’

Joe’s nerves, which with the sheer pleasure of the day he’d almost forgotten about, now returned with a vengeance. In fact, while Gina had been upstairs with Charlie, he’d briefly debated whether he should make some excuse when she reappeared. Say he had a previous engagement and would have to make tracks. He had no idea how the land lay between them; had been so focused on Charlie that he simply hadn’t had the head space to factor her in, too. He couldn’t deny he was still attracted to her. She’d looked as cute as a button all day. So much so that, on at least two occasions, he’d had to stop himself reaching for her hand. But for all he knew, she could have a new man in her life. And even if she didn’t, it didn’t mean she’d want him back.