‘I thought I recognised her from somewhere,’ he says defensively. ‘That’s all.’
Yeah, right.
‘Can I get you something?’
‘I’m not staying,’ Marcus says. ‘Unfortunately.’
Now his charm is turned back to me.
‘I hope you’re still up for the weekend in Bruges.’ Marcus holds up two tickets. ‘I’ve got you a gig booked. Friday afternoon you’re to talk about the UK chocolate market to the delegates.’
‘Me? What do I know about that?’
‘You keep it afloat single-handedly,’ Marcus points out. ‘I’ll send you some figures and stuff through. It’s only for half an hour. You can blag that.’
‘OK.’ Is it OK? I feel anxious already.
‘I’ve also got you two tickets for the ball on the same night. I take it you’re still planning to go with . . . what’s his name?’
‘Aiden,’ I fill in. As if Marcus has really forgotten. ‘Yes, we’re still going to have a blissful romantic weekend together.’
‘Perfect.’
‘Just one thing, Marcus. You’re definitely not going to be there as well, are you?’
‘Me?’ He looks taken aback at the very suggestion. ‘No. I’ve already told you. Why, do you want me there to hold your hand?’
‘I do not. The further away you are, the better.’
He laughs at that. ‘Then you’re in luck. I have an important meeting in Scotland that weekend that I can’t get out of.’
Perhaps he sees the relief on my face as he says, ‘I’ve accepted that I’ve missed my chance with you, Lucy. I had you and I let you go. More fool me.’
I feel my cheeks burn.
‘But I can see that you’re happy with . . .’
‘Aiden.’
‘I wouldn’t want to do anything to spoil that.’
‘The girls think that I’m mad having anything to do with you.’
‘They were never my biggest fans.’
With good reason, I think. They were the ones who had to scrape me off the floor and put me back together again after every one of Marcus’s dastardly deeds. And there were plenty. Remember that, Lucy Lombard. Remember that.
‘Anyway, here are your tickets for the ball, Cinderella.’ He hands over some gold embossed cards. Fancy. ‘With my compliments. It’s a black tie and evening-gown kind of do. You both need to scrub up.’
‘We can do that.’ I can see it now. Crush in his tuxedo looking all suave. Me in a slinky evening gown. I’ve only got one posh frock and Marcus bought that for me – too many memories – so I might have to see if I can borrow something from Chantal. There’ll be more chocolate than we can shake a stick at and a Christmas market to boot. Woo-hoo! It’s all I can do to stop myself from clapping my hands with glee.
‘There’s no fee for the talk, but your hotel is all paid for and it’s a beautiful, top-notch place alongside one of the canals. I guarantee that you won’t be disappointed.’
Sounds like heaven. It also sounds as if Marcus has been there before and I wonder who with.
I fold my arms, frown my darkest frown and fix him with a stare. ‘Why are you doing this for me, Marcus?’
‘Because I’ve treated you badly, Lucy. I know that. I’m never going to make it up to you, but you can let me do little things for you. I want to show you that I’m not a total bastard.’
I cave. As I always do with Marcus. ‘I do appreciate it. Thank you, Marcus.’
He shrugs. ‘Think nothing of it. If you and . . .’
‘Aiden.’
‘. . . have a great time, that would make me really happy.’
‘That’s very kind of you.’ Then, before I can think better of it, I say, ‘If you stay, you can have one of my special lattes on me.’
He grins at me. ‘Then it would be churlish to refuse.’
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Nadia was back for her second day at TD Fashions and this time she was in the shop alone as her sister only worked part time. Nadia had always wanted to be a stay-at-home mum, but so few women had that luxury these days. Without Toby, it fell to her to be the sole breadwinner, so she had no choice. Like it or lump it, she had to go back to work. Yet she was a lot luckier than most women who spent a huge amount of their earnings on childcare. Her dear friend looked after Lewis for nothing but a few shared dinners and she was so grateful to her. As soon as she had her first wage packet, then she’d treat Autumn to something nice in return for her unstinting kindness.
The morning had gone quickly, with a number of customers coming in and buying up the new stock. It was nearly noon before Tarak showed up and she felt herself tense as he arrived. There was no reason to, she convinced herself – he’d been perfectly civil yesterday. They might never be best friends, but there was no reason why they couldn’t have a good working relationship.
Her brother-in-law tossed his car keys onto the counter. ‘The window looks great,’ he said. ‘Your handiwork, I assume.’
‘Yes,’ Nadia said. ‘Mine and Anita’s. We hoped you’d approve.’
‘Very much so,’ Tarak said. ‘You always did have a good eye for clothes. You know how to put together an outfit.’
His eyes raked her body and it made her feel uncomfortable, but they were talking about fashion and she wondered if she was being over-sensitive.
‘Let’s have a look at the takings for yesterday.’ Tarak came and squeezed past her in the small space, resting his hands lightly on her hips as he did so.
There was nothing lascivious in it, not really, nothing too suggestive at all, but still it made her flesh crawl.
‘Shall I make you some coffee?’
‘Yeah,’ Tarak said. ‘That would be great.’
In the slightly grubby kitchen, she made some instant coffee. A cheap supermarket brand. This would be the next place to be given a Nadia Clean. She wondered at Anita letting it look so neglected, as she was always so house proud. Perhaps this was Tarak’s domain and she hadn’t liked to mess too much with it. Well, that would change. Nadia wanted to work somewhere nice and not a place that constituted a health risk. The toilet was sorely in want of some strong bleach, too.
Still, it didn’t do to march straight in and stamp all over someone else’s turf. She’d have to tread carefully but, hopefully, when Tarak saw some increased sales, then he’d leave them alone to look after the place.
She took Tarak his coffee.
‘It was a good day yesterday,’ he said, nodding approvingly at the receipts on the computer in front of him. ‘Obviously the new stock is going down well with the punters.’
And the fact that the window display no longer looked like the bottom end of the charity shop market would surely have helped too, but Nadia thought it best not to point that out.
Tarak sat on the stool behind the desk and folded his arms. Nadia stood and tidied the rack of dresses nearest to her. It would be nice if they had an iron or steamer in here; the clothes would look so much better with a little presentation.
‘You’re still a good-looking woman, Nadia,’ he said.
She chose to ignore the comment.
‘How are you managing without Toby?’
‘Lewis and I are getting along just fine,’ she said. Though it wasn’t strictly true. There were some days that she felt she was barely hanging on by her fingertips. It was only with the help of the Chocolate Lovers’ Club and dear Jacob that she coped at all.
‘You must miss having a man in your life.’
‘No,’ she said, firmly. ‘I’m afraid having a man in my life caused me nothing but pain, Tarak. I wouldn’t be in a rush to do that again.’
‘But those long, lonely nights?’
‘I have a stash of chick flicks and an even bigger stash of Dairy Milk. Who needs love when you’ve got chocolate? That’s all I need for company these days.’ He didn’t need to know that it wasn’t strictly true. There were days when she missed Toby desperately, despite his faults.
If she w
as honest with herself, she quite liked having Jacob there for company, too. She wondered what would have happened the other night if Autumn hadn’t called at a critical moment. Would she have kissed Jacob? Would she have asked him to spend the night with her? She didn’t think so. That was a step too far. The truth of the matter was that she was still too bruised to consider a relationship and she was sure that there was unfinished business between Jacob and Chantal. She didn’t need to find herself in the middle of that.
Anyway, it was immaterial now as, at the critical moment, she’d had to dash off to help Autumn, and Jacob had been pressed into babysitting for Lewis. And, of course, he hadn’t complained. Jacob was always willing to step in and help her. He was an all-round good guy and, if she’d been considering another relationship, that was exactly the type of man she needed in her life.
Could she risk letting her guard down again though? She’d been so traumatised by Toby and all his deceit, and Jacob might be lovely, but it wasn’t as if he came entirely without baggage. Did she want another woman in the equation? Even if it was one of her dearest friends, she’d be there lurking in the background.
‘Perhaps you need a real man.’ Tarak’s voice interrupted her thoughts.
She snapped her attention back to her brother-in-law. There was a smarmy look on Tarak’s face now.
‘Perhaps I do. But, at my age, all the good ones are already happily married and are faithful to their wives,’ she said pointedly. ‘I wouldn’t touch another cheating bastard with a bargepole.’
Tarak looked stung.
Perhaps she’d overstepped the mark. He might be family, but he was also her boss. He was flirting with her, though. She was sure of it. Although it was a long time since a man had done that and she might be reading this wrongly. Perhaps Tarak was simply indulging in some banter. They were both older and, supposedly, wiser now; surely he realised that he couldn’t treat her like the gauche teenager she had been?
She liked the fact that Jacob didn’t flirt. He never said anything inappropriate or that made her feel uncomfortable. He didn’t push her or press her to do anything that she didn’t want to. If he did have any ideas of starting a romantic relationship with her, then it was clear that he was leaving her to do the running and she liked that. But, he was a red-blooded man after all, and she wondered just how long he’d be content to have a purely platonic relationship. He never mentioned that he was seeing other women and, whenever she called, he seemed to be available. Yet, surely, he couldn’t be happy living as a monk.
‘You and Anita are lucky to have had such a long and happy marriage,’ she said in a placating tone. Tarak had given her this job and she was grateful for it. What was the point in antagonising him? It had taken a long time for her family to make an attempt to bring her back into the fold. She loved spending time with Anita again and being prickly with Tarak was only going to put that in jeopardy. She had to tread carefully. ‘It’s rare these days. You should both cherish that.’
‘Humph,’ Tarak said. He put down his coffee cup, still half-drunk. ‘I’m going to the other shop. I’ll be back later to lock up.’
Arms folded across her chest, she watched him stomp out of the door and go to his van, relieved that he was leaving her alone.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Miles had called Autumn, as she’d hoped he would. After their last meeting in the park, it seemed only right that they should swap telephone numbers.
‘It’s too cold to go to the park today,’ he said. ‘If you’re not busy, why don’t we take Lewis and Florence up to the Winter Wonderland in Hyde Park? There are a few more things to do indoors there and it’s quite sheltered. Flo and I went last year and it was great fun.’
‘I’m sure Lewis would love it,’ she said. ‘I’ll just check that Nadia is OK with me taking him there.’
When she hung up she thought that it was nice he was thinking ahead about them meeting in the park, and she realised that she’d been looking forward to their regular get-together. Autumn was sure Nadia wouldn’t mind, but she’d text her before she mentioned it to Lewis.
A moment later, a text pinged back. Of course it’s OK. Have fun. Tell Lewis I miss him loads. N xx
So Autumn called Miles back and arranged to meet him at the entrance to Winter Wonderland.
Only a short while later she and Lewis were both standing under the glitzy sign decorated with smiling Santas, reindeers and idyllic snow scenes. They were flanked by two huge Christmas trees laden with twinkling lights and Lewis looked up at them in awe. Cheery Christmas songs in German filled the air and the welcome scents of baking and spices floated towards them. They were both bundled up in scarves and hats against the cold and even Lewis hadn’t protested when she’d zipped him into his thick coat. He’d even managed to keep his gloves on.
It must be hard for Nadia to be away from him while she was at work and have someone else doing all the fun stuff with him. Even though she wasn’t working full-time, the hours were long enough. By the time Nadia got home from the shop, there seemed to be precious little of the evening left. When she’d cooked dinner and they’d played with Lewis’s Lego for a bit, it was just about time for Lewis’s bath and bedtime. He adored his nightly story, so that had to be squeezed in too. Nadia would have to make sure that they caught up on quality time together at the weekends if she could. But then there was all the housework to keep on top of. It made Autumn realise that life as a single parent wasn’t easy and she wondered how she would have managed in the same situation. Yet every fibre of her wished that she’d been able to bring up her own daughter, no matter how difficult. They’d have coped. She was sure of it.
But how? She had been little more than a child when she fell pregnant. A teenager who’d never really had to fend for herself. Her parents would have cut her off, so how would she have managed? They’d have made sure she saw none of their money. How would she have looked after them both? She saw how Nadia was struggling – and she was older, experienced in the ways of the world. She’d had a husband, a roof over her head. Autumn would have been cast adrift with nothing. It didn’t bear thinking about.
She made sure Lewis’s little scarf was tucked up round his neck so he wouldn’t get a draught inside his coat. Autumn’s fingers trembled as she wondered who had done this for her daughter when she was this age. Had the people who’d adopted her only child cared for her and kept her warm in the winter? Had she enjoyed the love of a good mother? All Autumn could do was pray that her child was happy. Now that she’d finally spoken of her to Miles, the little girl was never far from her mind and an ache that had always been buried deep in her heart had pushed itself to the surface once more.
Her daughter would be fourteen now. Only a little younger than Autumn when she’d given birth to her. What did she look like? If she was in this crowd, would Autumn even know her? Perhaps she’d walked past her in the street and hadn’t recognised her own flesh and blood. She’d called her Willow, but that probably wasn’t her name anymore. Her new parents could have called her something else. Something that didn’t suit her nearly so well.
Autumn was barely fifteen herself when she’d had Willow. That seemed a terrifying thought. She’d believed at the time that she was so grown up, able to cope with a baby. Her parents, of course, had felt differently. The child was the result of a few stolen nights spent with one of the young gardeners who tended the grounds of her boarding school. All the girls fancied him. Probably because he was the only male for miles who wasn’t a teacher. She’d found out afterwards that she wasn’t, as he’d told her, the only girl that he’d taken to his sparse room in the cottage by the woods, but she was the only one foolish enough to get pregnant. He had been kind, funny and tender. He was called Finn and she really thought she was in love with him. As soon as she found out she was pregnant, he was fired from his job and the little cottage in the woods stood empty. She never saw him again. Probably just as well. After all these years, Autumn could hardly remember what he looked li
ke.
Autumn had been dispatched, instantly, to a finishing school in Switzerland – well out of the way of anyone who knew the family. There, she’d had the baby in an immaculate and soulless clinic among strangers. When Willow was born, she looked exactly like Autumn. The fine down of her hair shone like gold. Her skin was such a delicate pink it was like mother-of-pearl and she could have gazed for hours at her perfect little fingers and toes. That wasn’t to be, either. Would she still look like Autumn now? Would that delicate golden down have morphed into the same mad auburn curls her mother had? Would she spend most of her life trying to do something to tame them? Did Willow ever look in the mirror and wonder if she looked like her birth mother?
The baby was taken from her as soon as she came back to England. Her mother saw to everything. She dealt with Social Services and all Autumn had been required to do was sign the necessary papers. Her parents insisted that it would be better if she didn’t have any further contact with Willow for the sake of the child. She’d agreed. It seemed too heart-breaking to know where her child was and not be able to see her. Put her out of your mind, her mother advised. Get on with your life. Pretend it never happened. It was the worst possible thing she could have done. She should have taken advice from the experts, had independent counselling and, most of all, not listened to her mother. But she didn’t and was railroaded into accepting her mother’s agenda. It still made her sick to think of her complicity.
She never knew who’d adopted her child, only that it was a nice, middle-class family from a good area. That would matter to her mother. All she did was write a letter to Willow, apologising for what she’d done and telling her how very much she loved her. Her mother wouldn’t agree to deliver it and so it had stayed in a little box of keepsakes that she’d secreted away – a lock of Willow’s hair, a pair of her tiny bootees, the hospital identification band with her name on it, the letter she’d written. Not much to show for Willow’s time with her, but so very precious. There was many a time when just looking at them, holding the lock of hair to her cheek, had kept Autumn sane.