The Love Shack (36 page)

She looks up and sniffs back tears. ‘I used to want to travel, you know. The girl I was best friends with at school became a hairdresser on a cruise ship. She had a hell of a life – went all over the place, and ended up living in Italy for ten years. She’s back here now, runs her own salon, she’s her own boss.’

She looks up, the rims of her eyes raw. ‘I’ve never travelled anywhere. Until you came along I spent every day of my life from the age of fifteen giving blow jobs and trying to get through the day without a black eye.’ Her jaw clenches. ‘I never wanted to be this person, you know – I never wanted this life. I don’t blame my boy. Why
would
he want his little girl near me? I wouldn’t.’

I sit down next to her. ‘Sheila, look up.’ Reluctantly, she does so. ‘I know how much you love that little girl – I knew it the day I met you. I remember you showing me the picture of her.’ Her lip starts trembling again. ‘How proud you were. How determined you were to turn your life around. And Sheila, you
have
done brilliantly. But you know what you’ve got to do to take the next step. There’s an Addaction meeting today. I can take you there myself.’

When she looks up, her eyes are heavy with disbelief that after all the times she’s failed to turn up, after all the opportunities she’s stamped on, someone is still prepared to believe in her.

‘It’s up to you,’ I go on. ‘You can make that step again. But this time, make it count. It’s up to you.’

A tear spills down her cheek. ‘Thank you, Dan,’ she says. It’s not just the fact that it’s the first time she’s properly said thank you that strikes me: it’s the first time she’s ever used my name.

‘So what do you reckon?’ I sit back. ‘Am I driving you there or what?’

She looks at me through her eyelashes. ‘I’d like to, lad. If you don’t mind.’

Alison, the administrator, pops her head through the door. ‘Dan, the doctor’s free.’

Sheila freezes, looking vastly less positive than ten seconds ago. ‘Will you come with me?’

‘Course I will,’ I say, standing up.

But as we go to push open the door, a voice from the other side of the road calls my name. I turn around and hear one word slip out of my mouth. ‘Dad?’

I can’t fully compute the situation as I look at my father, then at Sheila. She brushes away tears and blinks.

‘Aw, are you his dad?’ She gets this gooey-eyed look on her face, as if she’s just finished watching a box-set of
The Waltons
. ‘Well, I take my hat off to you.’

Dad doesn’t know how to answer that one and frankly neither do I.

‘I’m serious,’ she continues. ‘To have brought up someone like this fella . . . you must be so proud. There is nothing this lad can’t get done. Nothing at all. He’s bent over backwards for me. I want to shake your hand.’ She walks over and grabs Dad by the hand. He is dumbstruck.

‘What are you doing here, Dad? I’m at work,’ I tell him redundantly.

‘I know,’ he says, extracting himself from Sheila’s grip. ‘Your office told me where I’d find you. I hadn’t realised I’d be interrupting . . . I’d wanted a chat before I flew home.’

‘I didn’t even know you were in the UK,’ I point out. ‘Again.’

‘It’s only a flying visit. I wanted to talk. That’s all.’

Sheila’s head is moving backwards and forwards during this conversation as if she’s watching a lengthy rally at centre court in Wimbledon. When we stop, so does she, glancing once again at the door, where the doctor awaits her.

She suddenly looks broken and paralysed with fear – unlike my dad, who’s popped over in his $3,000 suit, having finally decided he fancies a fatherly confab.

‘Come on, Sheila, let’s get you seen by this doctor.’ I turn to Dad. ‘Sorry, it’ll have to be next time.’

I walk up into the centre feeling numb. I’ve spent so many years jumping when he asked me to, part of me thought I could never stop doing it. It’s an oddly liberating sensation.

We’re almost at the medical room, when Sheila turns on me.

‘You can’t leave your dad outside like that,’ she hisses. ‘Show some respect.’

I frown. ‘Do you want me to come with you to this doctor or not?’

She doesn’t answer at first. Then: ‘Fine. But I’m not at all happy about it, just so you know. It’s wrong.’

I’m only in with the doctor for a couple of minutes, when there’s a knock on the door and I open it to see Alison. ‘Dan, there’s someone outside who says he’s your dad. He’s attracting a bit of attention.’

‘Why?’

‘Well, he’s in a Bentley for a start.’

Dad and I find two seats in the corridor, which has become dramatically quiet after the announcement that lunch is served. He looks ill at ease here, but what he says surprises me.

‘This is an impressive place.’

‘We do our best,’ I shrug.

‘I mean it, Dan. These people, the life they’re living . . . well, it makes you think.’ I get the impression it’s been a while since Dad did much thinking, at least about anything like this. ‘You know, your mother always said I was good with words. And she didn’t mean it as a compliment.’

I snort.

‘I don’t feel very good with words at the moment,’ he continues, ‘but I’ll have a go. I’m sorry about not turning up for the lunch. I was thoughtless and stupid, and all those things your girlfriend accused me of.’

‘My girlfriend? When?’

‘She came to see me – didn’t she tell you? It doesn’t matter anyway. The point is, I should’ve turned up. I can see you wanted me to meet her and – well, it
was
an important meeting I got caught up with, but that’s not the point.’

I feel a kick in the guts that makes me determined to say something I’ve never had the balls to say before.

‘No, Dad, that
isn’t
the point. And I’m glad you’re sorry about that – it’s appreciated. But, you see, I
knew
it would happen. It’s what you’ve always done. You did it when I was a kid and you’re still doing it.’

He doesn’t even try to argue.

‘Oh look, it’s not a problem,’ I go on. ‘I’ve learned to live with the fact that . . . well, that you don’t find me very interesting. It’s cool. We’re fine.’

The hint of an expression crosses Dad’s face. It could be regret, but no doubt I’m being optimistic.

He runs his hand over the stubble on his chin, concentrating hard. ‘Dan, I’ve been a crap father. I can’t deny it. But I want things to change between us.’

His words wash over me. I don’t even want to hear his promises any more. ‘Okay,’ I say coolly. ‘Then it’s over to you.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean . . . fine. I’m up for it. A shift in our relationship, whatever you want to call it. But next time – you’re organising the lunch.’

He nods. ‘I hear what you’re saying. I do, son.’ He realises there’s nothing else to add. And I don’t feel inclined to fill in the gaps. He stands up.

‘I’ve got a plane to catch, but I’ll be in touch, I prom—’ But he doesn’t finish the word. ‘I’ll be in touch.’

I walk him to the door.

‘I liked Gemma, by the way.’

‘Right,’ I mumble.

‘She’s great. Balls of steel – and devious,’ he smiles, ‘but great.’

And he walks out of the door, leaving me thinking only of one of those words.

I tell Gemma about Dad’s visit that night as she’s pulling on her pyjamas.

‘I can see why you’d be sceptical,’ she says. ‘And you’re right to be. But you might be pleasantly surprised. I hope so anyway.’ She leans over and kisses me on the lips.

‘Did you see Grandma tonight?’ I ask.

‘Briefly when I got in from work. She was tired so was going for a lie-down.’

‘Oh, really?’

‘She did look a little peaky, to be honest,’ she tells me. ‘You should pop in before work tomorrow.’

‘I will.’

She stands up and goes to the bathroom to brush her teeth. I’ve just opened my book when her phone rings. Sadie’s name flashes up, so I hit answer. ‘Hi Sadie, it’s Dan. Gemma’s just in the bathroom. Do you want me to go and get her?’

‘Oh, don’t worry about it, Dan. It’s not important. Tell her we’ll catch up at the weekend,’ she says.

‘You’re seeing each other tomorrow night, aren’t you?’

‘Not as far as I know . . .’ Her voice trails off. ‘Oh. Possibly.’ I can hear the cogs grinding in her brain. ‘Yeah. Tomorrow.’

‘She said you were meeting for a drink after work. Isn’t that right?’

‘Yeah. I’d just forgotten.’ She could not sound more suspicious if she tried. ‘I’d better go. See you,’ she adds uneasily, before ending the call.

When Gemma returns, I can hear my heart thudding in my ears.

‘That was Sadie for you,’ I say, trying to look casual as I throw the phone onto the bed. ‘She wanted a chat, but said she’d catch up at the weekend. I think she’d forgotten you were going for a drink tomorrow.’

I look firmly at my book, but can’t fail to notice, out of the corner of my eye, the look of horror on her face.

‘Oh, her head’s all over the place at the moment,’ Gemma says. ‘Thanks.’

She climbs into bed next to me, kisses me on the cheek and pulls the sheet over her.

And that’s all it takes for me to know for certain. My girlfriend has been lying to me again.

Chapter 57

Gemma

He suspects. I can tell he suspects even before Sadie texts to warn me about their conversation and, yet again, I spend the night tossing and turning as I whip myself into a frenzy of anxiety.

When I wake the next morning after a fractured two hours’ sleep, I creep silently to the bathroom, taking my phone with me. There, I compose a text:

Alex, I can’t meet you tonight. I’m really sorry to cancel at such late notice but something unavoidable came up. Gems.

I hit send, then delete the message from my outbox.

As I head back into the room, Dan’s eyelashes are flickering open. I sit on the edge of the bed and press my lips against his warm forehead.

‘Morning, sleepy head.’

‘Morning,’ he murmurs, slipping his arm around me. Then he stops, and the look in his eyes changes from blissful, slumbrous ignorance, to something else entirely.

‘Have a great day. I’m going to head off,’ I whisper, forcing a smile.

He nods. ‘Good luck with your presentation.’

‘Thanks – I’ll need it. I love you,’ I tell him.

He kisses me, but for the first time ever, he doesn’t say anything in response.

I’m downstairs with my car keys in my hand and about to drive to work, when Belinda appears with her phone in her hand, her face drained of colour.

‘Everything okay?’ I ask.

‘A journalist has just phoned.’ Panic flickers in her eyes. ‘The story’s out about me and James.’

I don’t get a chance to answer before she disappears into the living room.

‘Belinda, I’m so sorry,’ I say, following her. She perches on the edge of the sofa; her hands are shaking.

‘I’m going to have to phone the publishers and tell them,’ she frets. ‘This is going to be awful.’

‘It might not be as bad as you think,’ I offer.

She looks at the phone and gulps. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you. Have a good day, Gemma.’

I touch her on the arm. ‘Good luck with your phone call.’

I walk out of the room as she straightens her back and begins dialling. Only when I have my hand on the front door do I realise that in my haste, I’ve managed to abandon my keys on the living-room table. I edge into the room, hoping to dart in and grab them without interrupting.

Belinda has her back to me and is facing the patio windows as she talks.

‘I’m so sorry, Angela. It was stupid, I know.’ I can hear Angela’s response from the other side of the room and it’s clear from her angry trill that she’s
not
impressed. ‘I know.’ More trilling. ‘I do know.’ More and more trilling.

Then Belinda spots me in the patio windows’ reflection and turns and glances at me.

‘Is it over?’ she repeats. ‘Of
course
it is . . .’ Then her voice trails off as we catch each other’s eyes. She puts the phone back to her ear and clears her throat, before saying, ‘Angela?’ her jaw clenches. ‘I know this isn’t what you want to hear – but no. I lied. It’s
not
over. And I don’t want it to be either.’

The response from Alex comes not in the form of a text, but a phone call, which he makes as I’m pulling up into work. ‘Hi,’ I say, my heart fluttering in my throat.

‘Hi,’ he replies.

‘Sorry about tonight,’ I say, feeling the need to fill the silence.

‘It’s okay. But Gems . . . I’d hoped to have a chat. I need to get a few things off my chest. I hadn’t wanted to do it over the phone.’

‘That sounds serious,’ I say lightly, as anxiety prickles on my neck.

‘It is.’ There’s another silence. ‘Gems, I think you already know what I’m about to say, but I’m going to say it anyway.’

‘Don’t,’ I interrupt. ‘Don’t go on.’ But he does.

‘I’ve never stopped being in love with you. Not ever.’

My insides clench. ‘Please, Alex—’

‘I’ve got to tell you how I feel. It took longer than you could possibly imagine to get over losing you. I’m not saying I spent the last twelve years in mourning, but this is the truth: every woman I’ve ever met since has lived in your shadow. You’re the only woman I’ve ever wanted.’

‘Alex, we were just teenagers,’ I protest. ‘We’re different people now.’

‘That’s just it, we’re not. I’ve fallen in love with you again. You’re all I can think about. I’ve never said this to anyone ever before – I’ve never been that kind of guy – but if I don’t say it now, I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.’

‘Say what, Alex?’

He sighs. ‘I want you to leave Dan.’

‘Please don’t say that.’

‘I want you to be with me instead.’ My heart constricts and a flood of tears spills down my cheeks as I listen silently. ‘I’m well aware that that makes me a bastard,’ he continues. ‘But there’s no point in me pretending any longer that I want things any other way.’

I can’t bring myself to say anything. Anything at all.

‘Meet me later,’ he implores. ‘And let’s talk about this, face to face. Come on, Gems. It’s the only way.’