All That Is Lost Between Us (30 page)

Horrified, Zac watches Georgia's face blanch, before the flush begins to creep across her cheeks. The moment she looks up, he turns and disappears into the crowd, pushing through people to put as much distance as possible between himself and his sister.

It seems he couldn't avoid the storm after all. Time to take cover, prepare for a battering, and pray he's still standing in the aftermath.

B
y the time Callum has finished talking to Jimmy and the other marshals, some of his stress has eased. They are all in radio contact, so they will be able to let him know when Georgia passes through each checkpoint. However, there is something else he needs to do to properly lift the lead from his shoulders.

Before Callum returns to Anya, he walks quickly across the field again. His shadow trails him, steeped in guilt. He knows he has only minutes to spare, and when he reaches the first-aid tent he gestures for Danielle to follow him around the back of the tent, out of sight of the general public. He has had cold sweat on the back of his neck ever since he watched Danielle and Anya have a conversation. He needs to sort this out now.

‘What is it?' Danielle asks once they are on their own. She folds her arms, kicking gently at a tent peg as she stares towards the ground.

‘We have to clear the air, once and for all,' he begins. He needs her to look at him, to see his intent. ‘Danielle,' he says, sharp enough to pierce her fug and catch her eye. ‘I'm truly sorry if I led you on—'

‘There's no
if
about it,' she snaps before he can say more.

He catches his sigh before it is released. ‘Okay, fair enough. I'm sorry for everything I've done that has led you to believe there could be something more between us. But I would still like your friendship, if that means anything.'

At this, Danielle bursts into tears. Her emotions are so close to the surface, he thinks, not yet bedded down by time or experience. He's not sure if it's a good or bad thing. It's certainly the opposite of how he feels most of the time – a droning engine that never falters, with all the boring predictability that comes with it. Perhaps that's why it has taken Danielle to rattle him, and make him reconsider his life.

It's horrible letting her stand there and cry without making an effort to comfort her, but he's terrified that she might misread any sympathetic move. He remembers Anya sobbing in the armchair last night. Why had it been impossible to reach out to his wife?

His guilt wouldn't let him, he realises. But if his marriage is to stand any chance of recovery, he needs to start focusing on his penance more than his crime.

‘Please don't,' he says gently.

Danielle wipes her eyes with her hand. Her vulnerability reminds him of Georgia, and he wonders once again what on earth Danielle sees in him – a middle-aged man – that would make her imagine they could have any kind of future together? ‘I just wanted to let you know that I've decided to take a break from the unit.'

That catches her attention. She studies him and behind her tears he can easily pick out the pain. Guilt crawls over him again.

‘You don't have to do that, Callum,' she says, her voice softening. ‘Last night I was angry; I didn't mean to threaten you.'

He holds up a hand to stop her.

‘You were right, though – we've put ourselves in a difficult position. It's a good idea for me to take some leave. There are things I need to sort out at home. I want to spend some time with my daughter before she heads off to university next year, and I – I need to get my marriage back on track.' It was hard to hold her gaze as he said it, but he had to show her he was serious. ‘I'm going to talk to the board about taking six months out . . . but after that I hope to come back, okay? That gives us some time to let things cool down. It's up to you whether you want to be part of the team when I return.'

Danielle folds her arms as though to hug herself. ‘For months now, I've thought things were different, Callum.'

‘I know.' Callum moves forward and pats her shoulder awkwardly. ‘I'm so sorry.'

The moment stretches out as they stand there, unmoving. Now her anger has dissipated and he doesn't feel so terrified, Callum can feel the pull. It would be so easy to move closer. There is a strong connection between them, despite age and circumstance. Danielle glances up at him, and he understands that she can feel it too, that they can't hide this from one another.

They haven't broken eye contact. Everything is unravelling, all the mending he has done is pointless. He doesn't believe they are destined for one another, but they will always struggle with this chemistry, particularly while he no longer shares a strong bond with his wife.

And then Anya's face is in front of him – or, rather, a series of Anya's expressions throughout all the years he has been by her side: laughing, crying, in the peace of sleep and the pain of childbirth – and he is hit by flashes of everything he has felt for her, and
that
pull is so fierce that it wrenches him from this echoing, stirring longing. He has to find her right now and insist she come with him, from this awful, banal place they have drifted to. He still believes in them; they have just forgotten to spend time working things out.

The rush of energy galvanises him, because at last he knows what he has to do.
For better or worse
, he had said, gazing at his beloved many moons ago, as he took the vows that would make them husband and wife. He so rarely thinks of those vows; he has neglected his promises. He doesn't believe that love has to be a never-ending fireworks display, but he's forgotten that if he works at it he might sometimes light up the sky.

‘They're round the back,' says a voice nearby. Callum steps away from Danielle just before Mike McCallister appears.

‘I'm sorry to interrupt,' McCallister says, his eyes alight with intrigue. ‘I only wanted to check if you need any more help, Danielle? Or have you already volunteered?' he asks Callum.

‘No, Georgia's race starts in a minute,' Callum says. Is McCallister telling the truth, he wonders, or had he seen them go around the back of the tent and thought he'd catch them out? Why does McCallister always seem like such a thorn in his side?

‘It's pretty quiet at the moment,' Danielle adds.

‘I'd better go,' Callum interjects. ‘I'll see you both later.'

He treads hastily around the side of the tent, picking his way over the patches of grass that haven't succumbed to the mud. At least McCallister's interruption had broken the impasse with Danielle. He wasn't sure how he would have left without feeling he was insulting her all over again. Has he done enough to fix things? It's hard to tell, but he hopes so.

Everyone is streaming out of the hall to watch the race. The day is growing greyer and the starting flags flap hard in the burgeoning breeze. Callum scans the spectators but can't see Anya or Zac. He looks across to the group of runners and spots Georgia waiting close to a cluster of spindly trees, behind a fluttering line of raised white tape. The boy next to her is leaning towards her, saying something, and Georgia moves a little away from him. To Callum's surprise the boy raises his hands in the air and then brings them to his sides in frustration.

Once Georgia is on her own, she scans the crowd, as though searching for someone. Callum waves and mouths
good luck
. She doesn't respond; he's unsure if she has seen him.

There is a hum in the air; the spectators are bunching together to watch the race begin.
Crack!
To Callum's surprise, the starting gun goes off while Georgia is still looking in the wrong direction. The competitors begin the sprint uphill. After a fraction of a second, Georgia turns and sets about chasing down the front-runners.

His legs begin to wobble. He wants to sit down. Instead he watches his daughter reach the tree line and disappear beyond it.

He hopes to god they have done the right thing.

Now all they can do is wait.

T
he starting gun explodes. Amid the noise and dappled light and chaos of the field, the racers sprint away, my daughter among them. All around us, people yell and scream encouragement to the runners as they hare up the hill. I want to put my hands over my ears. I wander between the spectators as though I am lost inside a dream, with no idea how to wake up. Everything looks the same, but it all feels entirely different.

I am wrong
, I keep telling myself. I cannot confront anyone with this outrageous hypothesis.
Surely I am wrong
.

I remember Georgia's face. I remember Leo Freeman's expression as he watched her. I am not wrong. Something has gone on between them, but how much, and for how long? It is over, surely, or why is she kissing Danny?

Does this connect to everything else? The accident? That woman in our house?

I begin to form an idea of what might have happened. I stride across to where Jackie Nicholls, one of the school secretaries, stands with her husband and a group of friends.

‘Jackie,' I say, tugging her sleeve, feeling like a madwoman as I urge her away from the others. ‘Is Leo Freeman married? Or does he have a girlfriend?'

She regards me with concern, her brow furrowed. ‘I think he's single. Why?' She breaks into a grin and winks. ‘I'm pretty sure
you're
married, though, Anya – in case you've forgotten. He's tempting though, isn't he?'

I try to join in, smile and laugh, although the thought that it's my Georgia who has been enticed into something with her teacher is making me shrivel inside.

‘Hang on,' Jackie says, then shouts, ‘Sue!' causing Sue O'Neil to turn around. ‘Sue will know,' she whispers to me as Sue comes strolling across, curiosity all over her face.

‘Anya wants to know if Leo Freeman is married,' Jackie says. ‘She won't tell me why,' she laughs, and winks again at Sue. That second wink makes my fists clench.

‘Nope, he's single; I've been prising information out of him slowly. I know a fair few people who have their eye on him, though,' she chuckles, showing her large horsey teeth. ‘I wouldn't say no myself,' she adds. ‘Are you thinking of setting him up with someone?'

‘Maybe,' I stall, and to my good fortune I see Zac coming towards us at that moment, his expression miserable. ‘Excuse me for a second.'

‘What's the matter?' I ask as I catch up to him. ‘You look ill.'

He shakes his head, handing me my phone. ‘Don't worry about me, I'll be all right.'

He's so woebegone. Without thinking I put my arm around him and kiss his hair, relishing the brief opportunity to get this close, to suck in the smell of him like I used to when he was a baby. For once, he doesn't move away before I do.

‘I'm not sure who the next hour will be tougher on – us or Georgia,' Callum says behind us, appearing from nowhere. ‘Shall we go over to the marshals' tent?'

‘Where have you been?' I ask, only realising I've snapped the words at him when he frowns at me.

‘Just got waylaid. Sorry. I'm here now. Do you want me to get you a coffee or something while we wait?'

He gestures to the van behind us. Ordinarily I would jump at the offer, but today I don't need to be any shakier than I already am.

Callum is watching me closely. ‘Anya, are you okay?'

‘Sorry. I don't want a coffee, thanks. And no, I don't think I am okay.'

His arm comes over my shoulder, loops across my chest and pulls me back against him. ‘She
will
be fine,' he whispers into my ear. ‘We all will be.'

I manage to catch my emotions before they escape, since Zac is so close. I can't recall when Callum last made a gesture like this; the last time I heard that soft tone in his voice. I don't say anything, but I hope he feels me lean against him.

There is so much that Callum and I have to talk about, but later, when this is over. Everything is suspended while we wait for Georgia's return. Nothing matters except seeing our daughter run back down that hill.

‘I wonder how she's going,' I murmur, my eyes intent on the trees lining the horizon, even though it's far too soon for anyone to be coming back yet.

‘She's going great, I'm sure of it – she always does,' Callum replies. ‘She's so focused, so determined.'

‘It doesn't look like the weather will hold much longer.' There are more and more stony grey clouds gathering over us, bulging lower and lower in the sky.

‘Yeah, she might get a bit wet towards the end, but it's nothing she hasn't encountered before.'

Not long after he has said this, the first drops spatter our faces. ‘Damn, we've left our gear in the car,' I say, as people around us bend to collect umbrellas or dig in bags for waterproof clothing. At least Callum and I have jackets. I glance across at my son, who is wearing only a hoodie and jeans. ‘Zac, why don't you go and wait inside the hall or you'll get soaked.'

‘It's okay,' he says to my surprise. ‘I'll stay here.'

I can see the strain on his face, and I start to wonder what he knows. I want to quiz him but now is not the time – we need Georgia back with us first, and then perhaps we can sit down as a family and piece together exactly what has been going on.

Callum still has his arm around me. Now that he is with us, everything will be so much easier. Georgia has always found it easy to talk to her dad, whereas if Zac has a problem he heads for me. Perhaps it's just the way we are, and I need to let it be, even though I would love more heart-to-hearts with my daughter.

The rain is coming harder. Most people are retreating to stand under the few tents that are set up, or wait in the doorway of the sports hall, eyes never leaving the hillside, straining to see which one of our children will emerge first. Only Zac and Callum and I stand close to the finish line, letting the rain soak us, as careless and rigid as scarecrows, huddled together as though we might shelter one another from what is coming.