To the Moon and Back (11 page)

All the way back to his mum's in Wimbledon. It would take a while.

‘OK.' She stepped forward and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

‘I'll give you a call. If you're free next weekend, we could do it again. Check out what bands are on, stock up on earplugs.' He hesitated. ‘No pressure. Only if you want to.'

Did she want to? Ellie thought she probably did. Over the past seventeen months she'd got so used to not wanting to go out and be sociable that saying no had become her natural default setting. The moment anyone invited her anywhere, her brain began scrambling for plausible excuses as to why she couldn't make it.

But today had been different. She hadn't secretly been longing to be back at home on her own. Which had to be an encouraging sign, didn't it?

She looked at Todd. He was Jamie's oldest friend and now she'd got over her stupid resentful phase she was comfortable in his company.

‘Yes, call me. I'd like to do that.' There, that hadn't been too difficult, had it?

‘Great.' He sounded pleased. ‘I'll buy the earplugs.'

Ellie smiled. ‘And I'll bring the Thermos.'

Elmo was dancing around like a lunatic, chasing dandelion seeds as they drifted like mini parachutes above his head. Keeping an eye on the pair of German shepherds playing together down the hill, Zack stuck his fingers in his mouth and whistled. Like a D-list celeb spotting the paparazzi, Elmo pricked up his ears and came racing back.

‘Those two are bigger than you are.' Zack brushed dandelion seeds out of Elmo's Denis Healey eyebrows and reattached his lead. ‘They'd eat you for breakfast. Come on, we need to get home now.'

He and Elmo left the hill and made their way back to Ancram Street. Later on this morning he was flying to Amsterdam to meet with a co-investor. He'd be home by eight. Tomorrow he was visiting a shoe factory in Derby. The following day he had back-to-back appointments with prospective partners and the amount of research he still needed to carry out on the companies was ridiculous.

But this was how Zack lived his life. Work came first; it always had. Business was his priority and personal relationships came second. They fitted in when it was convenient and he enjoyed them, of course he did, but they didn't make his heart beat faster like the prospect of a brilliant business deal.

At least they hadn't, before Ellie Kendall had come into his life.

Elmo was busily investigating an abandoned ice-cream wrapper. Zack steered him off the grass and on to the pavement. The situation he found himself in was crazy; it was just ridiculous. Never before had his mind been occupied during important meetings with thoughts of a female who
wasn't even remotely interested in him.

And to make matters worse, he'd employed her. He'd had to, otherwise who could say when he'd have the chance to see her again?

‘Elmo, stop it.' He tugged at the lead as Elmo began straining to sniff the ankles of an old man wearing saggy shorts and Birkenstocks. Simultaneously his phone began to ring.

Louisa's name flashed up on the screen. Should he? Shouldn't he?

OK, get it over with. She would only keep on calling until he answered.

‘Hello, you.' She was using her consciously sexy telephone voice. ‘Listen, how about if I come over this evening?'

Zack knew it was wrong that the suggestion didn't fill him with joy. Their relationship had started out so well, it had taken a while for the realization to sink in that the Louisa he'd first got to know was something of a front, a beguiling persona created to give a good impression. As time had gone on, she had begun to change and reveal her bossier, more possessive side. They were turning out to have less in common than he'd first thought. ‘The thing is, I'm going to be shattered when I get back from Amsterdam.' A lie, but a necessary one.

‘I know, that's why I'm suggesting it. I'll cook dinner and spoil you rotten. We'll have you feeling better in no time. Go on,' Louisa purred in his ear. ‘You know you want to.'

He really didn't, not tonight. ‘Look, I don't want to mess up your evening. I may have to stay on for a couple of drinks with the Van den Bergs. Who knows what time I'll be back.'

‘Oh, darling, you're so thoughtful, but I really don't mind.'

And now she was being nice, which only made him feel worse. ‘But I do. It's not fair on you.' Pricked with guilt, Zack said, ‘Let's leave it for tonight, OK?'

‘Oh, right. Well, how about tomorrow then?'

‘Tomorrow. Fine.' His voice softened. Anything to keep the peace. He still liked her when she was relaxed and not taking herself too seriously; it was just that those times happened less and less often nowadays. If he was honest, he knew he should probably finish with Louisa but he also knew it was going to be hard work. Louisa was so dramatic, she wouldn't leave without kicking up a fuss. It was a daunting enough prospect that it put him off broaching the subject. When all you wanted to do was concentrate on work, the thought of so much angst and disruption was off-putting to say the least.

Zack ended the call, coaxed Elmo away from an abandoned chicken nugget in a shop doorway, and headed for home. It was ten past nine and Ellie would be there by now. He also knew it was wrong to be seeing Louisa whilst feeling the way he did about someone else. But Ellie's absolute indifference towards him meant it hardly mattered. It wasn't as if finishing with Louisa would make her suddenly change her mind and fall for him. It just didn't work like that.

If it did, he'd already have done it.

Ellie was in the office, smelling gorgeous and with her hair tied back with a gray velvet ribbon to reveal her neck. The post had already been sorted into piles and she was now watering the forest of plants that had taken up residence along the windowsill, courtesy of Barbara.

‘Some of these are going funny,' she warned him over her shoulder. ‘I told you I wouldn't be able to keep them going. I'm a serial plant-killer. Look at the leaves on this one.'

She was wearing a gray jersey top with a square neck and elbow-length sleeves, and a red skirt. Moving closer, Zack breathed in the fresh, lemony perfume and watched the way her dark hair glinted in the sunlight streaming in through the window. ‘Yes, they definitely look like leaves to me.'

‘But the edges are going all weird and yellow.' Frustrated, she turned the blue ceramic pot to show him. ‘I thought it needed more water so I gave it loads yesterday and now they're even worse. Do you think I should try and dry out the soil?'

The way her eyebrows tilted in concern made him want to kiss her. It was a common-as-muck spider plant, practically a weed, but she really cared about it. But since there was no way he could kiss her, he said, ‘How would you do that?'

‘I was thinking maybe a hair dryer.' Ellie lifted the blue pot and gave the sodden compost a tentative prod.

‘Give it a go. If it doesn't work, at least the leaves'll look stylish.'

She stopped prodding. ‘Are you making fun of me?'

Zack smiled; the one thing he knew he mustn't do was flirt with her. ‘I'm making light of the fact that neither of us has the foggiest idea how to look after a potted plant.'

‘Just as well we don't have kids.' Cheerfully oblivious to the effect this statement had on him, Ellie said, ‘Right, I'm taking it outside. Maybe all it needs is a bit of sun to cheer it up. Oh, by the way, there's a message on the phone from someone called… Huggy?' She looked bemused. ‘Is that right?'

‘Huggy Hill.' Zack held the door open for her, watched as she carefully placed the pot down in a sunny spot against the wall. ‘My first ever business partner.'

‘First ever? How did it happen? Was that when you were still at college?'

He nodded and followed her back into the office. ‘That's right. I was taking a degree in business management. Huggy was a mate, clever in his own way but clueless when it came to business. He'd set up this tiny company selling mobile phones and he started asking me for advice. After a couple of months I saw the potential of what he was trying to do—this was before mobiles went mega—and I took a stake in the business in exchange for all the work I was doing for him. Chiefly because he was skint and it was the only way he could afford to pay me. Then things really started to take off and I realized I'd far rather be working with Huggy than carrying on with a three-year degree course.'

‘So you dropped out of university.' Ellie knew much of the story; he knew she'd been familiarizing herself with his CV. But talking to her was no hardship; maybe she'd even be impressed.

‘I did. We built up the business and sold it two years later for crazy money. By then I'd already begun to diversify. I discovered I had good instincts, I could see why other people's companies were failing and what it would take to bring them back up again. I did some stuff with a computer support consultancy that turned it around.'

She nodded. ‘Then there was the ice-cream business.'

He smiled. ‘I loved that one.'

‘And the holiday park in Dorset.'

‘You've been doing your homework.'

‘And the restaurant with the home-delivery service. Did your friend Huggy start investing in other companies too?'

‘No, he moved to the Caribbean, spent his days surfing, and became a professional beach bum. He's still there now. Having a great life.'

‘Do you ever wish you were doing what he's doing?'

‘Never. I'm happy here.' Did that make him sound boring? Work-obsessed?
Was he boring and work-obsessed?
He said, ‘Would you do it?'

Ellie thought for a moment. Finally she said, ‘It would depend on who I was with. Living in the perfect place with the wrong person would be horrible.'

Zack couldn't help himself. ‘How about living with the perfect person in a horrible place?'

Something flickered behind her eyes for a second. Then she half-smiled and said simply, ‘If they're the perfect person, it would still be perfect.'

OK, what did that smile mean? Was she thinking of that actor bloke of hers, Tony Weston? Was she thinking that she
could
live with him in some dump somewhere and be happy about it, but luckily she didn't need to slum it because—hooray!—he'd set her up in a half-million-pound love nest in Primrose Hill instead?

On the few occasions he'd subtly asked questions about her private life she had veered away from the subject. He'd offered her the opportunity to tell him about Tony Weston and she'd chosen not to. Therefore he wasn't going to push it. The only way forward was to back off and leave her to carry on with her life. If she wanted privacy, he'd let her have it. Instinct told him that all he could do for the moment was stay cool and play the waiting game. It wouldn't be easy but he'd manage it if it killed him. Because right now, thanks to that unerring instinct, he knew for a fact that Ellie wasn't remotely interested in him. Which meant he
had
to hold back. No flirting allowed. Not even a
hint
of flirtatious behavior. She worked for him, he was her boss, and there was nothing more hideous than finding yourself the unwilling target of a workmate's affections. He'd encountered it himself before now and knew what a complete turnoff it was. Imagine how much worse it must be for a woman to be on the receiving end of unwanted attention.

So that was that. He was going to hold back completely. Be charming and as nice as he knew how to be. But without flirting at all. It wouldn't be easy but he was going to do it. He had to. Because this was too important to mess up.

‘OK, I'd better get changed and head off.' Zack was still in the sweatshirt and jeans he'd worn to take Elmo for his walk. He indicated the folders on the desk. ‘There's plenty in here for you to be getting on with. Any problems, give me a call. If my phone's switched off, just leave a message and I'll get back to you.'

‘Right, fine. Oh you naughty boy, don't do that!'

If only she could have been talking about him. But it was Elmo, scrabbling madly, probably having spotted a spider and getting himself caught up in a tangle of electrical leads under the desk. Launching herself across the top of the desk in the nick of time, Ellie managed to grab the printer before it crashed to the ground.

‘Well held. Here, let me.' Reaching past her to pull it back to safety, Zack's hand accidentally brushed her arm. A
zingggg
of adrenaline jolted through his veins. OK, this was ridiculous; it was like being fourteen again. ‘There, all done. Elmo, you stay out of trouble now.' Raising the dog to eye level, he said, ‘Behave yourself, OK? Ellie's going to take you for another walk later.'

He'd said the w-word. Elmo did one of his exaggerated double takes and let out a yip of excitement.

‘No, no, calm down, we've just been out.' Zack wondered if Ellie secretly thought he was mad, talking to Elmo the way he did. ‘Right, see you later. Be good.'

Ellie had started opening the post. She looked up and said cheerfully, ‘We'll try.'

Even the shape of her mouth was irresistible; when she formed the word
try
, it created the most perfect pout. And now she was smiling again, but still without anything approaching
that
kind of interest.

Letting himself out of the office, Zack said casually, ‘I'll see you tomorrow.'

God, this not-flirting and just-being-friends business was going to be bloody hard.

What was going on? Tony had no idea, but he knew he needed to find out. Over the past fortnight he must have sent Martha a dozen emails. All he'd had in return was a single brief message on the first day. In it, she had apologized and said their encounter had been a huge mistake. They mustn't meet again, she was sorry if she'd led him on, and could he please respect her privacy and not attempt to contact her in any way.

That was it, that was all. Since then, each subsequent email had gone unanswered. Directory inquiries had declined to give out Martha's phone number. Tony, stuck in Hollywood filming an unexciting part in a completely dire movie, had been counting down the days. But in a desperate rather than a hopeful way, because flying over to London to find out what was going on was one thing, but actually persuading Martha to change her mind about him was quite another.

Anyway, he was back now. Another day, another taxi. And no way was he capable of respecting her wish for privacy. As they pulled into Lanacre Road, Tony's chest tightened in anticipation. He didn't even know if she was in the house, but the need to see her again was overwhelming.

The taxi driver said, ‘Where d'you want me to stop?'

‘Further along. It's the house with the yellow door, up on the left.' As the taxi slowed, Tony said, ‘Pull over behind that blue van.'

The next moment the yellow door opened and Disapproving Eunice came out. Followed by Martha.

‘Oh God, don't stop.'

‘Eh? But you said—'

‘Don't stop!' Tony shrank back from the window and hissed, ‘Keep going.' Jesus, talk about bad timing. What did Eunice do,
live
there? From the depths of the cab he glimpsed Martha's profile as she turned to lock the door behind them. The taxi trundled on to the end of the road and stopped at the junction.

‘Where to now, then?'

‘Um…' Peering out of the back of the cab, Tony saw that the two women were heading off in the opposite direction. ‘Turn around and wait. See if they get into that car.'

‘And then what?' The cab driver twisted in his seat to look at him. ‘You want me to follow them? Hey, you don't know how long I've waited for someone to say that and actually mean it!' Chuckling, he expertly spun the steering wheel and swung the cab around. ‘You're Tony Weston, right?'

‘Yes.'

‘Am I allowed to ask what's going on here?'

‘I'd rather you didn't,' said Tony.

‘They're not getting into any car. Looks like they're walking.' Tony thought fast. Knowing his luck, they were off to the supermarket. But he was here now, and what else did he have to do?'

‘Let's follow them.'

‘Are you serious, mate? We're in this thing'—the driver indicated his cab—‘and they're on foot.'

‘You'll just have to go slowly then, won't you? And make sure they don't catch you at it.'

Luckily Martha and Eunice didn't look back. The taxi remained at a safe distance behind them, trundling along at the speed of mud. When they reached the busy main road it got trickier, the cab driver having to stop and start and work hard not to get trapped in the bus lane.

‘I'm sure it's supposed to be more exciting than this,' he grumbled. ‘Tires squealing, handbrake turns, police joining in, all that malarkey.'

‘Think yourself lucky. When that happens,' Tony pointed out, ‘the taxi driver tends to end up not getting paid.'

Martha and Eunice weren't window-shopping. They didn't dawdle; this was an outing with a destination at the end of it. Eventually turning off the main road, they made their way down leafy side streets. They weren't speaking to each other, just walking side by side. Where they might be heading was anyone's guess. A church meeting, perhaps. Visiting a friend. Keeping an appointment with the orthodontist.

‘There you go,' said the cabbie as the two women finally turned into the driveway of a property set well back from the road.

Tony leaned forward. It was probably a dental surgery. As the taxi drew closer he saw the sign by the gate.

Stanshawe House Nursing and Residential Care Home,
the sign announced.

‘Mystery solved.' The cab driver sounded relieved; the last twenty-five minutes must have ranked among the most boring of his life. ‘They're visiting some old granny.'

‘Maybe. Maybe not. They could be visiting anyone.'

‘Or else they work there,' the cabbie amended. ‘Anyway, what now? Are you going in after them?'

‘No.' Tony sat back in his seat; this wasn't how he'd planned to spend the rest of the day. ‘Take me back to Primrose Hill.'

***

Ellie was still out at work. Back at the flat, Tony looked up Stanshawe House in the Yellow Pages and copied down the number of the place. Then he forced himself to sit and wait, because the one thing he couldn't do was phone them while Eunice and Martha might still be there.

At five o'clock he made the call.

‘Oh, hello, I'm calling about one of your residents. By the name of Daines.' It was a shot in the dark, but the only shot he had.

‘Sorry, who?' The woman sounded distracted.

‘Daines.'

‘Could you give me the first name?'

Tony hesitated. No he couldn't, because he didn't know the first name. He didn't even know if it was a male or a female. ‘Um, well…'

‘Oh, do you mean Henry Daines? Sorry, I'm new here, I've just found him on the list.'

Bingo. ‘That's it. Henry.' Tony wondered whether real detectives got sweaty palms when they had a breakthrough.

‘Right. And what is this about? Let me take a message.'

‘Oh, no message. I'm just calling to… find out how he is.'

‘Hang on, I'm just writing this down. Say again?'

God, she was dippy. ‘I haven't seen Henry for some time. I heard that he's in your care,' said Tony. ‘Could you tell me why he's with you?'

‘Ooh no, we're not allowed to do that! Sorry! I tell you what, love, why don't you contact his family? They'll be able to give you all the information you need.'

Typical. ‘OK then, can you tell me who his family—'

‘Oh my goodness, now the red light's started flashing! What does that mean? Sorry, love, I'm going to have to go, just call his family… OK, bye!'

***

At nine o'clock the next morning, Tony rang the bell and heard the sound of footsteps inside the house.

The topaz-yellow door opened and for the first time in a fortnight he came face to face with Martha. His heart twisted with longing; it was so wonderful to see her again and so unbearable to witness the look of anguish on her face.

He kept his voice low. ‘Are you on your own?'

She closed her eyes for a second, then nodded. ‘Oh, Tony, don't do this. You shouldn't have come here.'

‘I had to. You can't just tell me to leave you alone and expect me to do it. I thought we
had
something…'

‘Please, no.' Martha was shaking her head in despair, her fingers clutching the front of her raspberry-pink shirt.

‘Can I come in?'

‘No.'

‘Why not?'

‘I told you, we can't see each other anymore.' Across the street a door slammed and she raised a trembling hand in greeting at whoever had just emerged from their house. Her breathing shallow, she said, ‘Tony, just go. Do you think this is easy for me? Because it really isn't, I can promise you that.'

‘I know, I know, but we need to talk.' He paused. ‘Who's Henry?'

She froze, the fingers of her other hand convulsively tightening around the edge of the door.

‘Who told you?'

‘Is he your father-in-law?'

‘No.'

‘Brother-in-law?'

Martha shook her head.

‘So that means he's your ex-husband.' Tony had already guessed as much; he didn't need to look at her to know he was right.

Except he couldn't help himself; he couldn't tear his eyes away from her face.

‘He's not my ex-husband,' Martha said finally.

‘You mean you're still married.'

She pressed her lips together, gave a funny, wobbly nod.

‘Why don't I come in?' said Tony. And this time she stood back to allow him into the house.

In the kitchen, Martha rubbed her face to get the blood back into it. ‘I still don't know how you found out. Was it Eunice?' She shook her head. ‘It couldn't have been Eunice.'

Rather than tell her how he had stalked the pair of them, Tony said, ‘Just tell me about Henry.'

‘How much do you know?'

‘Nothing at all.'

‘We've been married for thirty-three years. Happily. Very happily.' Her voice began to waver. ‘Well, up until six years ago. OK, I'm going to cry now. Don't say anything, just ignore it.' Reaching for the roll of kitchen towel, she tore off a couple of quilted sheets and rested one hip against the kitchen units. ‘The thing is, he has Alzheimer's. Well, officially it's presenile dementia. It started seven years ago when he was only fifty-five. Just gradually, you know, losing keys and forgetting people's names. We joked about it at first. Until he made a serious mistake at work and it stopped being funny.' The tears were rolling down her cheeks, almost as though she didn't know they were there. ‘Then he saw the doctor and had to have all these tests… well, you can imagine the rest. We got the diagnosis. We were both devastated and I promised to look after him. Henry was a high-powered accountant. Within a year of giving up work he couldn't put together a shopping list.' Martha paused to wipe her eyes. ‘It all happened so much more quickly than I thought it would. He started putting his shoes in the oven. He tried to give our microwave to the postman. And instead of eating his dinner, he'd hide it in the loft.'

She stopped again to gather herself, and it was all Tony could do not to take her in his arms. But he stayed where he was, at the opposite end of the kitchen.

‘And it carried on going downhill from there,' Martha said quietly. ‘I did my best, I swear I did. But it was so much harder than I ever thought it would be. I was twenty-one years old when I married Henry. He was just the best husband any girl could ask for. I loved him so much… and he could do
anything
, you know? He was clever, he was practical, if anyone had a problem he was the one who'd solve it. One of our neighbors was desperate once when her plumber let her down. I mentioned it to Henry when he came home from work, and he spent the evening plumbing her toilet in.' She shook her head. ‘But that was before. Then it all changed and I was the one who had to look after Henry. He started having mood swings, then temper tantrums. It wasn't his fault, he was just scared and frustrated. But it was like trying to keep a six-foot toddler under control. He wasn't… easy. And all the time you know it's only going to get worse. I was having to feed him. And wash him. Brush his teeth.' Martha's voice broke. ‘It's horrible. It's so undignified. And I know I'd promised to look after him, but it was just the l-loneliest job in the w-world…'

Tony said, ‘That's why you told me you'd been on your own for a long time.'

She nodded, struggling to regain control. ‘It is. But it wasn't fair for me to say that. I let you think I was divorced. That was so wrong.'

‘It was completely understandable.'

‘No, it was… disgusting. And I've never been so ashamed.'

‘I interrupted.' Tony made a scrolling-back gesture with his finger. ‘Carry on with the story.'

‘The story.' Martha grimaced. ‘The one with no happy ending. OK, I carried on as long as I could. With help from Eunice,' she amended. ‘She's Henry's sister. Very hardworking, very serious. But I owe her a lot. Anyway, a year ago it all got too much for me. I was exhausted, I just couldn't cope anymore. I sold our big house in Notting Hill and bought this little one instead. Thanks to Henry, our finances were in good shape. And how did I repay him?' She heaved a sigh. ‘By putting him in a nursing home. That was nice of me, wasn't it? But you know what? If it had been the other way round, he wouldn't have done that, I can guarantee you. Henry would have looked after me.'

‘You don't know that.'

‘Oh, I do.'

‘He's getting the best care. You visit him… who's to say that isn't
better
?'

But Martha was giving him an odd look. Tony held up his hands in surrender. ‘I'm sorry. I followed you yesterday afternoon. I had to know.'

She nodded slowly. ‘It was stupid of me to ignore you and hope you'd disappear. But you do see now, don't you, why we can't see each other again?'

‘It's a terrible situation.' All he wanted to do was comfort her and make the pain go away. ‘How is he now?'

‘Confused. Sad, sometimes. But he still recognizes me. He knows who I am. He calls me his beautiful wife.' Martha's expression changed. ‘And in return I betrayed him.'

‘When I saw you that day on the hill, you looked as if you didn't have a care in the world,' said Tony. ‘You seemed so happy. That was what drew me to you.'

‘I was happy.' She inclined her head in agreement. ‘At first, after Henry went into the home, I was relieved. And every time I felt relieved, I felt guilty. My life had become easier and his hadn't. I was ashamed of myself, I shouldn't
be
happy. But as time went on, the guilt started to fade. For the last couple of months I've let myself relax and feel OK about my life. And, I don't know, sometimes it all just comes together. I was outside on a beautiful summer's day with the sun on my face. My painting was going well. That dear little boy came along with his ball and he was just adorable, and I suddenly realized I felt completely at peace. It was the most amazing experience, like having a great weight lifted off my shoulders.' Martha gazed fixedly at the wall. ‘And then you came along, and you were lovely too. It was as if you were part of it.'