Now she’d have to tell him that Alex had left her for another woman. That she was a single mother to Ethan. That her husband didn’t love her any more.
But not just now. She didn’t have to tell him this morning. Ethan wasn’t here. It would be Alex nagging him to get out of bed, to put his breakfast things into the dishwasher, and answering the usual questions about football socks. If he bothered to do any of those things. She could go back to bed, pull the duvet over her head, and stay there for as long as she wanted …
3
It was lunchtime when Heather called. Scott was in New York, six hours ahead. She called on her way home from the gym or the school run, almost always from the car, on speakerphone. Scott hated speakerphone. Heather shouted at him, broke off from shouting at him to shout at other motorists, and went back to shouting at him. Heather was a Jersey girl – New Jersey, that was, not the island next to Guernsey, and never more so than while she was driving when she could, and frequently did, ‘go full-on hoodlum’, as she called it, at the slightest provocation. He loved his wife, God knew he did, but he did not like being shouted at. Or other people being shouted at in his presence. Even when every sentence ended in ‘honey’ or ‘sweetie’, pronounced ‘sweedy’, it still set him on edge.
He’d been an Englishman in New York. She’d been a Jersey girl in Surrey. A pair of aliens. An odd couple. At forty-three, Scott was still almost surprised on a daily basis to find himself married, a stepfather to her two daughters, an ‘instant-family’ man, although it had been more than a year now. That his wife and stepdaughters were American was nothing short of stupefying. He’d been travelling between his firm’s offices in London and New York for almost twenty years, spending up to five days at a time in the Big Apple, sleeping in a nondescript hotel in Midtown, working long days in a behemoth of an office at 39th and Lexington, and Heather was the first American girl to show him the vaguest interest. He’d been taken aback – neither his teeth nor his hair fitted the New York aesthetic, the former being uneven, overlapping in places and more ivory than bright white, and the latter crawling slowly but inexorably back towards the top of his head.
She’d gone for him. As predatory as a big cat. That was what his New York colleague Matthew had told him one evening after work in a crowded Irish bar, with characteristic bluntness. He’d known it before Matthew had said so, although he appreciated the concern. He’d known it, and he’d absolutely let it happen.
He was lonely. She was pretty, in a wholesome, obvious way – all blonde waves and blue eyes – and she’d seemed kind, and if it was a gamble to assume that this was the real her, not just the act of a calculating, mercenary female, then he reasoned the gamble was worth it. He’d made a pretty successful career of gambling. Was this so different?
‘So there’s a big fat envelope here addressed to you, Scottie. Should I open it?’
No one else called him Scottie. He wouldn’t let them. Even with her, it had taken a while to get used to. Now he liked the way it sounded – ‘Scoddie’ – all ds, no ts – in her husky, warm voice. ‘Go for it.’ He heard the tearing of paper.
‘It’s a brochure … for a holiday place. Looks like the Cotswolds. Hold on … there’s a note. It’s from your dad.’
Scott was genuinely surprised. ‘What does he say?’
‘Hang on, I’ll read it …
Scott and Heather,
I would so love it if you and the girls would join me and the rest of the family at this place in August to celebrate my eightieth birthday. I’ve chosen somewhere that hopefully has enough stuff to keep teenagers amused and, of course, Ethan will be there, I hope, so they shouldn’t get too bored. You can even walk into the village, where there’s a bit to do. It would be very good to have the opportunity to get to know Heather, Hailey and Meredith better. I know it’s probably rather short notice for you, but I shall keep my fingers crossed you can make the time work. Let me know.
With love,
Dad xx
‘Below his name and the kisses he’s written something else. It’s in a different pen, like an afterthought. It says, “Your mum would want us all to be together. She’d want it to have happened far more than it has. Maybe that’s my fault. It would mean a lot to me if you would come, son.”’
‘Bless him, that’s sweet.’
‘He spelt “Hayley” with an i.’
‘Heather …’
‘I know. I don’t mind. At least, I mind less than I mind that we’re supposed to be going to Mykonos in August …’
‘Have we booked?’ By which, of course, he meant had Heather booked. She had a black Amex card now and she knew how to use it. She was, in fact, really, really good at using it. Not that he minded. There was plenty of money, and it made him happy to see her happy. There had never seemed much point in having it before.
‘No. But I had the most darling place all lined up. I was going to show you when you got back tomorrow. It’s in Condé Nast Traveller magazine’s top-ten places in Greece. It’s pretty much carved into this rocky cliff. But you can walk to the town. Which has shops, restaurants, bars … There are only about thirty rooms, and a gorgeous restaurant.’ Her voice dropped an octave, into the sexy range of which she was a mistress. ‘And every room has its own pool …’
He didn’t doubt its gorgeousness for a moment. And Scott had absolutely no problem with a little pool attached to every room. There’d been one at their honeymoon hotel in the Maldives, and Heather had shagged him in it at least once every day of the ten they were there. Which had been more than worth the sunburn he’d got on the small bald patch at the top of his head.
‘Can’t we go after? Or before?’
‘We could. The girls start school at the very beginning of September.’
‘So?’
‘Are you sure you’ll be able to take the time off for two holidays in August?’
‘Definitely.’ He wasn’t sure but he’d worry about that later.
‘Promise?’
‘I promise. We should go.’
‘Do you think it will be fun?’
‘I didn’t say that. I said we should go.’
‘I hardly know your family.’
‘Dad’s point exactly. This is your chance to charm them all like you’ve charmed me, darling.’
‘Flatterer.’
‘Truth-teller.’
‘Do we have to go for the full ten days?’
‘We can say yes to the full ten days. And I can invent an excuse to get us out of there after a few if it’s a nightmare.’
‘You’re a genius.’
‘That’s why you love me.’
‘It’s one of the reasons.’
And he believed her, though he knew others might not.
Afterwards, while he ran his usual 7.5 kilometres on the treadmill at the gym near the office, facing screens showing Bloomberg, Scott tried to remember the last time he’d been on holiday with his brother and sister, Laura and Nick. And he really couldn’t.