Another Love (18 page)

‘You like walrussusses?’ She laughed.

Celeste nodded.

Romilly rushed forward and swooped her little girl into her arms, holding her around her rib cage. She let her slender legs dangle as she waltzed with her this way and that in the aisle, singing ‘I am the walrussusses’.

Celeste threw her head back and chortled, hoping none of her classmates were in Tesco Golden Hill that Saturday morning. She gripped her mum’s shoulder as Romilly swirled her up and over the line of approaching trolleys, ignoring the tuts of other shoppers trying to reach round them for their porridge oats and Frosties.

‘All okay, madam?’ A blue-suited manager with a name badge rocked on his heels with his hands behind his back.

‘Yes, thank you.’ Romilly smiled. ‘Could you point me to where I might find your walrussusses?’

‘Mum! Stop!’ Celeste reached up and placed her small hands over her mum’s mouth, her wide-eyed delight suggesting she wanted the exact opposite.

Everyone, David included, did their best not to mention her ‘little holiday’, as her mum had apparently referred to it. They simply shared in the joy of her being back home and returned to health. And Dr Gregson’s call, when it came, had been frank and sweet.

‘We need you back. Things don’t run quite so smoothly without your obsession for accuracy and tidiness.’

‘Is that right? I prefer to think of it as a good eye for detail and efficiency that saves us all a lot of bother in the long run!’ She laughed, pushing her specs up onto her nose.

‘How are you doing, Romilly?’ He had lowered his voice.

How was she doing? ‘I’m good. Better and sharper, I guess. And really enjoying this time as a stay-at-home mum, if I’m being honest. Spending time with Celeste is just bliss.’ She smiled, picturing their cycle ride in the grounds of Blaise Castle the day before, racing around the winding track that took them up to Henbury Golf Course, then stopping for ice creams on the way home.

‘Well, don’t you go getting any ideas. We need you back here, as soon you’re ready.’

She wasn’t sure if he was being honest or simply trying to encourage her by making her feel valued. Either way, it worked. She put the phone down and felt a warm glow of confidence spreading through her. Everything was going to be okay.

With Celeste tucked up in bed, David stacked the dishwasher while she studied the
New Scientist
. ‘What’s that you’re reading?’ he asked, pulling out the chair next to her and turning to face her.

She looked up as if noticing his presence for the first time. ‘It’s a fascinating article about how ants protect caterpillars in exchange for a sugary secretion – a reward, if you like. Isn’t that just incredible?’

‘Eeuuw!’ David pulled a funny face.

She smiled at him. ‘You stick to accountancy, Numbers Boy.’

He reached out and twisted her towards him. Removing her glasses, he placed them on her magazine before kissing her tenderly on the mouth. ‘I was just transported back to the library, when we used to whisper to each other and you scribbled on my folder and I kept looking at it, chuffed because it meant you’d noticed me.’ He kissed her again.

‘
Me
noticed
you
? God, I couldn’t believe my luck. Still can’t.’ She leant forward and placed her hands around his neck.

‘I love you, Miss Romilly Shepherd. My Bug Girl,’ he whispered.

‘And I love you. Proper love.’

‘Yes.’ He nuzzled her neck with his lips. ‘Proper love.’

David stood and pulled her from the table. He led her by the hand up the stairs of their lovely home and into one of the poshest bedrooms they had ever slept in, and it was theirs.

The next morning, Romilly stood at the sink and yawned. ‘Not too much milk, Celeste, you’ll just spill it everywhere.’ She rolled her eyes as her daughter drowned her Cheerios, the current cereal of choice, while she pushed the plunger on the cafetière and poured the strong coffee for her and David.

‘Ooh lovely, thank you.’ He winked at her as he bit into his toast and honey and scanned his paper.

Celeste shovelled Cheerios into her mouth at an alarming speed. Her cheeks bulged.

‘Whoa! Slow down, missy!’ Romilly tutted.

Celeste tipped her head back, trying to contain her mouthful. ‘I have to eat them quickly sho they don’t go shoggy,’ she explained, showering her school jumper and the tabletop with little milk-sodden, sugary Os.

Romilly laughed.

‘Oh, I meant to say, I got an email from Lorna at The Pineapple, that restaurant you went to,’ David stated matter-of-factly, stealing the minute of relaxed laughter to drop the news. He had adopted his wife’s fruit analogy to keep the true nature of the place from Celeste.

‘Oh yes?’ Romilly felt her pulse flutter at the mention and the usual creep of embarrassment along her neck, a reminder of her shame and guilt at what she had put them through, along with an uninvited flash of desire for a drink. It was ironic that the very mention of the place that had provided her with a cure of sorts had the opposite effect.

‘She was just checking in, asking how things were, you know…’ He kept his eyes on the broadsheet.

‘Interesting she was checking in with you and not me.’ Romilly raised her eyebrows.

‘I guess she thought it would be good to get my perspective.’ David smiled weakly, still uncomfortable with the topic and acutely aware of all the times when it would have been impossible to have got an honest answer out of her.

‘You should tell her about our evening, ask her what she thinks of
that
for progress?’ She smirked over the top of her spectacles, her mouth twitching mischievously.

David coughed and sipped his coffee. Romilly recalled the feel of his skin against hers, the way she had lain there afterwards, wrapped in a sheet and chatting to her man as he sat propped up against their luxurious buttoned and velvet-covered headboard. They had laughed, remembering their uni antics, in particular the time she had snuck into his room and had to hide under his bed with several unsavoury items of sports attire until the warden had finished his chat and left. She had emerged with an old Haribo packet stuck to her bare bottom. The memory had made them guffaw into their palms and pillows, trying not to wake their daughter, who was asleep down the hallway.

‘I’d rather she didn’t get in touch, and if I’m being honest, I’d rather not talk about The Pineapple. I’m just happy to be getting back to normal.’ She ran the hot tap and washed her hands.

David watched her busying herself in the kitchen. ‘I can’t argue with that.’ He smiled and took another bite of toast.

*

It was inevitable. She knew at some point that she would bump into Sara. Bristol was like a large village and the postcodes within it even more so. Their lives were separated by nothing more than four driveways and a couple of rows of wheelie bins. Romilly was walking back from school, having waved her daughter off at the gates, and was searching through her handbag for her keys. The sound of a front door closing caused her to look up. She saw Sara jogging down the path and knew that interaction was unavoidable. She briefly considered running up the drive and quickly disappearing into the house, but by the double flick of Sara’s head, Romilly knew she’d been spotted and to try and hide felt silly.

‘Hey, Sara.’ She waved as her friend drew close.

Sara nodded and glanced uneasily at Romilly’s sitting-room windows. ‘God, I haven’t seen you for an age. How are you?’ Again her eyes flicked towards the house.

‘I’m…’ She lifted her arms and let them fall by her sides. ‘I’m getting there, I guess. I suppose the answer is, I’m better than I was the last time I saw you.’

Sara inhaled and looked skyward. ‘Oh God, yes. I shouldn’t have come crashing into your family time like that. I feel guilty that I gave you the opportunity.’ She shook her head.

‘The opportunity? Don’t be ridiculous! It wasn’t your fault, I think I was probably looking for an excuse to get out of the house, if I’m being honest.’ She recalled the heady feel of the cold Prosecco against her mouth and felt her palms flash heat. A punch of desire hit her stomach. ‘How are things with you?’

Sara bit the inside of her cheek as her tears gathered. ‘I’m finding it hard, actually, to come to terms with their baby news.’

‘Yes, of course.’ Romilly had quite forgotten about that.

‘And I miss you! I’m finding it hard that I don’t have you to talk to.’

‘Things have been…’ She struggled to find an acceptable excuse.

‘It’s okay. David made it quite clear.’ Sara fished in her bag for a tissue.

‘David made what quite clear?’

‘He came up to the house a few weeks ago and told me I had to stay away from you and Celeste. He was really mad. I was a little scared, to tell you the truth. He told me if I came near you or had any contact with you, then he’d take action.’ Her tears fell. ‘I don’t think he realises that I don’t actually have anyone else.’

Romilly was stunned. ‘I don’t… I don’t know what to say.’

‘There’s nothing to say.’ Sara hitched her bag up onto her shoulder and turned to leave.

‘I think it just needs a little bit of time, Sara, to let the dust settle. It will all be okay.’ She smiled.

Sara nodded. ‘I hope so. I really do miss you.’

Romilly watched Sara walk down the street before letting herself into the house and grabbing her phone.

‘When will he be back at his desk?’ Romilly was curt. Her husband wasn’t answering his mobile and now she couldn’t get him at work. She was furious.

‘I’m not sure. Would you like me to leave him a message?’ The woman sounded apologetic on his behalf.

‘No, thanks.’ Romilly pressed the button and threw her phone onto the kitchen table, watching it slide, saloon-like, a good half a metre. She thought about the bars in the Wild West, depicted in so many movies, pictured the moonshine liquor being sloshed into dirty shot glasses. Her stomach growled with a feeling that was close to hunger but had nothing to do with food.

Walk it off, Rom. Do something.

She climbed the stairs and stripped the beds, balling the bed sheets, duvet covers and pillowslips into a mini mountain that she hurled down the stairs with gusto.

Angry thoughts whirred through her head.
I can’t believe he spoke to Sara like that, warned her off having contact with me. What am I, a child? It makes me look so dependent, like I have no judgement. I wouldn’t dream of doing that to him.

She felt her face break into a sweat and her tongue salivate in anticipation. She cleaned her teeth for the second time that day, liking the sensation of minty freshness and not wanting to dilute it with food or anything else. She jogged down the stairs and as she stooped in the hallway to gather the laundry from where it had fallen, her eyes were drawn to the handle of the cupboard under the stairs.

Romilly stood still, as if caught in a moment in time.
I just want to see it. I won’t drink it. It will just help me, knowing that it’s still there.

Abandoning the sheets, she turned the handle and ran her hand over her collection of shoes and the shiny silver rack on which they sat in pairs. She looked at the floor of the cramped space and remembered that day when they had moved in… Her fingers touched the toes of her wellington boots. She pulled her hand back and placed it on her chest. With her eyes closed, she made herself remember how she’d felt walking back from Celeste’s school only half an hour ago: healthy, elated, clear.
Don’t do it, Rom. Don’t do it. Just walk away. Walk away now.

A surge of longing started deep in her stomach, swirled through her body and rushed up into her head. She opened her eyes wide and almost lunged for the boot. Grabbing it from the rack, she was instantly, painfully, aware of its lightness. A whimper escaped her mouth. Quickly replacing it, she reached for its twin and felt a huge jolt of anger that it too was empty.

‘No!’ she screamed. Flinging shoes and boots from the rack out into the hallway, where they fell in dull thuds on the pile of laundry, she yelled her frustration at the walls. ‘What have you done? Where is it? This is nothing to do with anyone but me! How dare you cleanse the house, like I’m fucking incapable? Why haven’t you hidden all the sharp knives and locked away the car keys?’

She tore around the house in search of a bottle, any bottle. The miniatures in the bathroom had been removed from under the cotton-wool balls in her drawer. The half-bottle of brandy that she made creamy peppercorn sauces with, which David liked slathered over well-done steak, had been rooted out from behind its shield of herbs and spices. The beer fridge in the garage was empty and the floor-to-ceiling wine rack held nothing but two bottles of slimline tonic water and a two-litre bottle of Coke.

‘For fuck’s sake!’ Romilly stood still and tried to calm the fury that fired inside her. Though she knew it was a disproportionate response, she couldn’t control it. Now all she could focus on was getting a drink.

Her breathing came fast, leaving her a little lightheaded. She stormed into the kitchen to find her car keys. As she gathered them into her palm and located her purse, her mobile phone rang from the kitchen table.

‘Yup?’

‘Rom, it’s me!’ He sounded chipper, which only served to irritate her even more.

She sighed in frustration. Her husband did this, announced it was him calling, as though his number, picture and ID didn’t pop up on her phone screen every time she accepted a call from him.

‘I know.’

‘I missed your call earlier. I was in a budget meeting with the team. All okay?’ If he was nervous or concerned, he certainly wasn’t showing it.

‘I saw Sara earlier.’

‘Oh, right. Did she come round?’ he asked quickly.

‘No, don’t worry, she hasn’t broken any ban that you might have imposed. She didn’t even set foot on the grass. I bumped into her on the pavement, which I think is still a public footpath, but you might want to check.’

‘Why are you sounding like that?’ He’d dropped his voice now.

‘Why?’ she laughed. ‘Because you can’t go around telling people to stay away from me, David. You can’t threaten people and choose who I can and can’t talk to! I’m a grown-up, in case you hadn’t noticed!’ She heard a door close in the background and figured that he had either found a quieter place to talk or had shut his office door.