Love You Better (5 page)

With her chin in the palm of her hand, Effie looked at her mum. She wanted to be objective, but all she could see was a wafer-thin, bra-less hippy with green feathers braided into her wiry, greying hair. Why couldn’t her mum just be normal? Still, Oliver was charm personified and didn’t seem to mind, or even notice, her mum’s wacky appearance at all.

‘It was a great day, wasn’t it?’ Oliver grinned, squeezing Effie’s hand as Penny flicked through the wedding photos on his iPad.

‘Yeah.’ Effie smiled. ‘It was.’ Or at least it had been until Smith had shown up.

‘It’s a shame you missed it,’ he continued, topping up Penny’s glass with a full-bodied Rioja.

‘You didn’t leave much time. Only my daughter could marry someone she’s only known for two minutes.’

It wasn’t two minutes; it was a month, but Effie refused to
argue bac
k.

‘Besides, I was in the middle of my course, and it was monsoon season. It makes it almost impossible to leave.’

‘Most people go away to get some sun. I don’t understand how you can like being stuck in the heat and rain all day.’ Effie wrinkled her nose.

‘It’s a very enlightening experience being able to dedicate time to meditating and cleansing. It sets me up for the cold winter months.’

‘If you can call the Spanish sun cold,’ Effie replied. When was the last time her mum had been in England for Christmas? Ten years ago, just before she’d left for good, probably.

‘You should try it sometime. Nobody is forcing you to stay in this depressing place.’

Effie sighed. What else was she supposed to do? Run around naked in communes, like her mum? No, thank you.

‘It’s amazing you managed to get everything organised so quickly. It all looks very grand,’ Penny said, looking back at the iPad and swiping her finger across the screen. ‘Are these your parents?’

Oliver leaned over and nodded, pointing his finger. ‘My dad, Giles, and my mum, Celeste. That’s Isobel, or Izzy, my older sister.’

‘Very nice.’

The tone of her voice suggested otherwise, and Effie knew what she was thinking. The Barton-Coles represented everything her mum hated: wealth and power. She looked down at the photo of herself and Oliver sandwiched between his parents, with Izzy on the end. Everyone was smiling, but the atmosphere between his parents had been as frosty as the air around them, and Oliver had refused to have his stepbrother and sister in the photo.

‘And what do they do?’ Penny asked.

‘Mummy and Daddy are both retired now. She used to be an editor for a lifestyle magazine and he was a top Queen’s Counsel. Being a barrister is kind of a tradition in our family; my grandfather was one too. Izzy owns an ethical beauty company.’

‘Well, isn’t that lovely.’

Effie scowled at her mum’s rudeness. Oliver had been nothing but unwaveringly polite and even interested when she’d talked for an hour about yoga and the meaning of chakras, but she couldn’t seem to return the favour.

Oliver’s eyes flicked down to Effie’s plate. She’d eaten everything except the beef.

‘Are you not hungry?’ he asked, tipping his head to one side.

‘It was a little too rare for me.’

Effie had stuck to the cooking time in the recipe rigidly and thought it would come out medium to well done at the edges at least, but when she’d carved into it, it was still too pink for her tastes. It was a fine balance cooking for Oliver, who liked it almost blue, and herself. At least her mum was the type to eat whatever was put in front of her without complaining.

‘It loses all the flavour if it’s cooked too much,’ Oliver replied.

Effie looked at his plate, wiped clean. She was the type to
cremate
her meat, but he ate out at top-end restaurants all the time, and his palate was a thousand times better than hers. She picked up a tiny piece of beef and ate it, holding back the gag at the thought of eating near raw flesh. He smiled a little and stood up from the table.

‘Here, I’ll make you a sandwich or something.’

Penny’s forehead creased as she pulled her eyebrows together, frowning at him as he walked towards the sink. She was a firm feminist and probably thought Effie was a pampered lady of luxury, simply because Oliver had offered to make her a sandwich.

‘I should get going. I didn’t realise it was so late, and I need to be at the airport early in the morning.’

‘You only just got here,’ Effie replied. She’d only been back for two days, and already she was jetting off again.

‘You know I don’t like it here. I just wanted to see you and make sure you were okay. And meet Oliver, of course.’

Her mum wanted to make sure she was okay? That was a first, and probably a last.

After waving goodbye to Oliver, Penny zipped up her coat as they stood by the front door. ‘Are you sure you’re happy, Sweetpea?’

‘Of course I am,’ Effie replied. Happiness was calling her in the form of chilling on the sofa with Oliver and a DVD.

‘You’re just so different now. Do you really want to spend the rest of your life with him?’

Effie held down a sigh. Couldn’t she give the psychoanalysing a rest, just for one evening? ‘Obviously. He’s my husband.’

Penny leaned in close. ‘I’m sorry to say this, Sweetpea, but he just seems so . . . superficial. All that posturing about his work.’ She pulled a face. ‘I’m sorry, but I don’t trust him.’

Effie pulled the front door closed and stepped outside. ‘You don’t even know him, and it’s a bit rich, coming from you. You’re hardly in a position to give me relationship advice.’

Throughout Effie’s childhood, Penny had flitted from man to man in a haze of drugs and free love, so free that even her own dad had disappeared before she was born. She couldn’t remember a man ever being around for more than six months.

‘And okay,’ Effie continued, ‘he boasts a bit, but he’s worked hard to get to where he is. He’s allowed to be proud.’

‘Pride isn’t a positive quality, Effie. You shouldn’t simply assume that just because he has a good job and is well brought up that he’s perfect. I just want you to be careful, that’s all.’

‘Thanks for your concern,’ Effie replied with a sarcasm-laden voice, ‘but I think I can manage.’

Penny’s eyes scanned her face before she sighed. ‘I know we haven’t always seen eye to eye, but—’

‘But what?’ Effie folded her arms.

‘Nothing.’ Penny sighed. ‘But you know where I am if you need me, for anything at all. At any time.’

Actually, I don’t.

It was always the same. Her mum was always just out of reach.

Penny pulled her in for a hug and kissed her cheek. ‘I do love you, Sweetpea.’

She squeezed Effie’s shoulders before disappearing down the street, leaving a trail of sandalwood scent in her wake. After months of hardly any communication at all, Penny had floated back into her life with her namby-pamby hippy talk and left with a sting
in her
tail. Effie shook her head. If that was her way of expressing love, she’d rather not have it at all. She walked back into the house,
slamming
the door behind her.

‘What did the door ever do to you?’ Oliver asked, leaning against the hallway wall with a tea towel in his hands.

‘She makes me so mad sometimes.’

He pulled her into a hug. ‘I thought she was nice.’

‘Everyone does.’

Effie buried her head into his chest, wrapping her arms around his waist. Everyone loved Penny. She was the cool mum who used to let her have parties all the time and gave everyone advice. After meeting at school, Lou, Smith and Mickey were permanent fixtures in her house, and whenever any of them had problems, Penny would be there with a cup of tea and an ear to listen. And it extended past Effie’s friends. She’d often come home to find people she recognised from school, sitting around the table, chatting away with Penny as if she were a counsellor. Penny seemed to have an infinite supply of love and compassion, and she treated Effie’s friends and fellow students as if they were all her friends, and not kids. Effie was the envy of them all, but all she wanted was to be loved as a daughter instead of a friend.

‘I guess none of our parents are perfect,’ Oliver said.

‘At least yours showed up to the wedding,’ Effie muttered. As much as she was pleased to have been spared the embarrassment of her mum mixing with the Barton-Coles, her lack of presence had still stung.

‘Baby, nobody noticed.’

‘Of course they did, and it didn’t help having to walk down the aisle with Mickey.’

Oliver squeezed her tighter. ‘Not everyone has a dad to do that.’

No, but at least most people know who their dad is.

Thanks to Penny’s inability to settle with one person, Effie’d had to be given away by her best friend. The day that Penny would tell her about her dad had never arrived, despite the constant promises to do so when she was old enough to understand. Effie sighed. She understood, alright. She understood that her mum probably couldn’t even remember who he was.

Oliver kissed the top of her head and held her close. It didn’t matter now anyway. She had him. She didn’t need, or want, an
yone else
.

6.

E
ffie sighed and put the phone down. She’d only been in the office for a little over an hour, but already she could tell that today would be a battle she wouldn’t win.

‘Everything okay?’ Doug asked, perching on the end of
her d
esk.

‘I’m just having a nightmare, trying to get through to the photographer for that album cover,’ Effie replied, leaning back in her swivel chair and looking back at her boss. ‘Don’t worry, though; it’s nothing I can’t handle.’

‘Good. So, James starts today. We’ll do an introduction at the team meeting, and if you could do a familiarisation with him afterwards, that’d be great.’

‘No problem. Where is he?’ She looked down at her watch. It was already 10.15, and this James was hardly making a good impression being late on his first day.

‘He’s over at the studio with Sketch.’

Effie raised an eyebrow. Sketch was Archive’s newest signing, an indie trio from Brighton, and Doug had high hopes for them. It looked like the new boy was hitting the ground running.

‘He should be back around two,’ Doug said, standing up.

‘Sure. I’ll take care of it.’

She watched as he went back to his desk. Had he seriously sent this James out already? He hadn’t even met the rest of the team yet, or had a proper induction. Doug picked up the phone and ran a hand through his grey hair. Archive was his baby. He’d started it in his bedroom years ago and involved himself with every step of every process. He knew what he was doing, but even so, Effie couldn’t help the uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach.

At two thirty, she sat around the glass table with the rest of the team. Two minutes later, the door to the meeting room opened.

‘See?’ Nikki nudged her. ‘I told you. Fit or what?’

Effie’s breath caught in her throat, and her eyes widened as she looked at the man walking through the door.

Oh, you have
got
to be joking.

‘Everyone, this is James,’ Doug said. ‘He’ll be helping us out with Artists and Repertoire for a while.’

Smith, or was it
James
, shook hands with everyone around the table, leaving her until last. Effie scowled as he gripped her hand and squeezed it with a brief, satisfied smile on his face before
sitting
in a chair at the end of the table. What the hell was he doing? Why was he sitting in their meeting room, filling the space with his . . . with his . . . ?

Ugh.

She chewed the end of her pen and turned to Doug, listening as intently as she could, which was no easy feat.

Because, Effie, he’s not me.

Her skin burned. Was he looking at her? Because it felt like it. It felt like he was scanning every inch of her body from across the table, but she refused to look at him. She pulled her eyebrows together, trying to focus on what Doug was saying, but it was as if someone had pressed the mute button on a remote control. All she was aware of was
him
. After five minutes, she gave in, sneaking a glance at him. He was focusing on Doug as if she weren’t even in the room. Irrationally, it only made her even angrier.

‘Effie, did you get that?’

She looked up at Doug. Crap. What had he been talking about?

‘Can you set up a meeting with Kingsley for this week to look at the new website?’

Effie nodded, scribbling in her notepad, trying to stop her cheeks from burning. Bloody Smith had only been here five
minutes
, and already he was distracting her. He wasn’t happy just ruining her wedding; he now wanted to move in on her job too.

‘And can you make sure James gets his familiarisation today as well, please.’

‘Yep, sure.’

After I’ve wrung his bloody neck.

When everyone filed out of the room twenty minutes later, she hung back, glaring at Smith to do the same. Behind his back, Nikki mock-swooned and closed the door behind her, leaving the two of them alone. Suddenly, the room felt a whole lot smaller.

He looked at her with his know-it-all grin. ‘Fancy seeing
you he
re.’

The anger inside her spilled out as she slammed her hands on the table and leaned forward in her chair. ‘Are you insane? What the hell is this?’

He calmly looked around at the posters and discs on the walls. ‘I believe this is called work.’

Effie screwed her eyes shut and gripped her pen, taking a deep breath before opening her eyes again. ‘You know what I mean. Why are you
here
?’

‘Like I said, I’m here to work.’

‘You don’t even know anything about A&R.’

‘Really?’ He folded his arms and leaned back in his chair. ‘Doug thinks differently; otherwise, he wouldn’t have asked me to help out.’

‘What do you mean, he asked you?’

He put his hands behind his head, and Effie’s eyes flicked down to the tiny strip of tanned skin peeking out from under the hem of his T-shirt. She quickly looked away.

‘He knows I know my stuff. Sean told him I was back, and he called me.’

‘But that’s not possible.’ Effie shook her head.

‘And yet, here we are.’

His eyes twinkled at her from across the table. He was obviously finding all this thoroughly entertaining. She pressed her fingers against the edge of the table, battling with the idea of scrambling over it and lunging at him. He made her so unbelievably angry that she didn’t trust herself not to gouge his eyes out of his head.

‘Oh, wait a minute,’ Smith said, slowly leaning forward and resting his arms on the table. ‘You thought I was here because of you, didn’t you? Do you know how arrogant that sounds?’

Oh, he was good. He was throwing her words from Somerset House right back at her.

She snorted. ‘Do me a favour. I don’t go around thinking the world revolves around me, unlike some people.’

Effie looked away, not wanting Smith to see her face because the truth was, for a fleeting moment, she had thought he
was
there for her, and even with the shock of seeing him walk into the meeting room, she couldn’t deny the way butterflies had flitted around her stomach.

‘Then why is it written all over your face?’

‘It isn’t,’ she replied, crossing her arms.

‘I mean, I wouldn’t want you to get the wrong idea since you were pretty clear the last time we spoke. What was it you said again?’ He looked up at the ceiling, frowned and looked back at her. ‘Oh, yeah. You didn’t need my shit in your life anymore – that was it.’

He leaned back in his chair again, his long, jeans-clad legs spread out wide.

‘And yet, here we are,’ Effie replied, mimicking his words as she threw him a look of disgust. ‘Does Doug actually know who you are? Does he know that
James
used to make a living shifting pills around in clubs?’

‘Man, I’ve missed the mouth you have on you.’ Smith laughed, sending tingling vibrations straight to the pit of her belly, but she willed the feeling away. ‘But let’s not get carried away. I was never a dealer and you know it. Doug knows everything about me; he’s one of Sean’s best mates, remember? Don’t forget who got you this job.’

She wanted to retort, but she couldn’t. Instead, she slumped back in her chair and sighed. Doug was an old-time friend of Smith’s older brother, Sean, and it was thanks to her friendship with Smith that she’d ended up at Archive in the first place. Doug must’ve assumed she knew it was Smith when he’d referred to him as James.

‘You can run along and tell tales if you want, but it won’t make a blind bit of difference. Or we could try to be civil. I mean, we’re going to have to see each other every day now.’

That wasn’t a good thing, so why was the swirling in her
stomach
bordering on being pleasurable?

‘Fine,’ she said, standing up. ‘We can be civil, but that’s it.
I m
eant what I said at Somerset House.’

‘I know.’ He stood up and stuffed his hands into his pockets as he looked at her. ‘Like I said, message received loud and clear.’

His voice sounded monotone and matter-of-fact, but instead of feeling relieved at his apparent acceptance, Effie felt a flash of
disappointment
. She looked back at him and told herself to get a grip. This was exactly what she’d wanted from the moment he’d got back, and he was finally playing along.

She nodded. ‘Good.’

‘Good.’ He nodded back.

She stalked past him, swinging the door open and not even
caring
that it nearly hit him in the face. Bloody Smith.

After her disastrous day at work, she took herself off to get her Christmas shopping done. It was a bad idea. Thanks to Smith, she was in a foul mood. He’d shocked her out of her skin, showing up in the office like that.

‘So, I heard you’ve got a new colleague. Mickey just told me,’ Lou said.

Effie held the phone in her hand as she toyed with the price tag on the Ted Baker jumper. Oliver would look amazing in it, which wouldn’t be difficult. He looked amazing in pretty much everything.

‘Apparently, Doug asked him in to help out with A&R. He’s like a bad smell that won’t go away.’

‘It’s hardly surprising, though. He did used to be a DJ, and he’s massively into music. He knows a heap of people.’

Effie rolled her eyes. ‘Well, yes, of course he does. He spent every weekend getting high with them, remember?’

‘So, I guess now’s a good time to tell you he’s coming to
Ireland
.’

A frustrated sigh left Effie’s mouth, and she dropped the price tag on the sweater. ‘You have got to be having a laugh.’

‘Well, it would’ve been hard to leave him out, not to mention unfair,’ Lou pointed out. ‘What difference does it make anyway? You’ll be with Olly, and you’ve told Smith to stay away. It’s not like he’s going to pounce on you.’

Effie moved out of the way as someone else picked up one of the sweaters and took it straight to the till. It did make a difference. It made all the difference in the world.

‘I’ve got to go and get dinner on,’ Lou said. ‘Good luck with your shopping. We’ll catch up soon.’

Lou blew a kiss down the phone and hung up, and Effie left the shop feeling deflated. So far, she hadn’t seen anything she even remotely liked that came within her measly budget. Oliver had offered to set her up with an allowance, but she’d turned it down. Having an allowance from your husband seemed to be like travelling back sixty years, and she didn’t like the idea of him effectively paying for his own Christmas present. She had her own income, as meagre as it felt.

She meandered through the crowds of shoppers, scrolling through her phone to check her bank balance, just in case some money had magically appeared. It hadn’t. Sliding into an empty chair in the rest area, she sighed. The mere fact that a shopping centre had to have rest areas depressed her. She’d never needed a rest from shopping in her life. Everyone else seemed to have a minimum of five bags each, and she could only begin to imagine the cumulative cost of them all. She’d wanted this year to be different. She’d wanted to shower Oliver with gifts.

How would Smith be spending Christmas?

She scowled at the unwelcome way Smith had popped into her head. It was bad enough, him turning up unannounced at her
wedding
and Somerset House, but at work? It was such a small team, she wouldn’t be able to avoid him, and even though he’d apparently accepted that she wanted him to stay away, it wasn’t him she was worried about. It was herself. Smith had been perfectly professional after they’d left the meeting room, following her around as she familiarised him with the building, policies and processes, all while she’d tried not to re-familiarise herself with his smell, the way he ran his fingers through his hair, or the way the skin around his eyes crinkled when he smiled.

She’d been getting on with her life until he’d come back, and now it felt like it was spiralling out of control. As far as she was concerned, her anger at him was wholly justified. What she didn’t understand was why the idea of him being in Ireland made her skin ripple in a way that was disturbingly on the border of being pleasurable.

From the day she’d met Oliver, she’d never looked back. He’d showered her with flowers and gifts and taken her on thoughtful dates. And when he’d knelt on the scuffed lino floor of her kitchen, offering her a ring a month later, she hadn’t hesitated in saying yes. So why was she looking back now?