One Last Day of Summer, page 4
Not that Dev cared, because all he could do was sink further into her eyes.
After a couple more hours of drinking, dancing, and being glued to each other’s sides, she’d come back to his place and spent the night. It had been mind-blowing. If it was a romcom, there would have been fireworks. And they’d have been followed by a heartbreaking violin solo when he woke up the next morning and discovered she was gone, with only a note left behind to make him smile and convince him the previous eight hours had been real.
‘Hello! Yo!’ Lizzy’s insistent demand for his attention took his mind off the twist of his guts, the one that happened every time he thought about how wonderful that night was, and how terrified he was that she might not feel the same. He tossed a pair of pool sliders into the holdall and then looked around the room for his charger. He was almost done. Bag packed.
‘Are you even listening to me?’ she prodded, amused.
‘Of course, I am. I always listen to you. You’re on the same “must listen at all times” level as my mother and Reese Witherspoon. I like you the best though.’
‘Aaaaw, do you mean that?’ she chirped, grinning.
‘No. Reese probably wins it. But you’re definitely second… Unless it’s Mother’s Day.’
Lizzy cackled with laughter and threw a scrunched-up pair of socks at him. He picked them up and shoved them in his bag. ‘You never get less annoying.’ She’d been telling him that since they were about eight, so it wasn’t a newsflash.
‘I realise this. It’s a gift. Anyway, what were you saying before, when I was trying to mentally escape back to the giddy bliss of that last Saturday night, to a woman who didn’t think I was wholly irritating?’
Lizzy’s bangles rattled as she pulled her wild mane of blonde curls up into a high ponytail and secured it with a band that she slipped off her fingers. ‘I was asking what her full name was. I just realised that all this week you didn’t say. I just need to know so that I can give the information to Interpol and the Crimewatch team when you vanish during this completely fricking insane mission to find a stranger you picked up in a bar a week ago.’
Again, thinking about her made him smile. Everything about her had that effect. Her voice. Her touch. The incredible, mind-blowing sex they’d had that night. Twice. And of course, the note she’d left the next morning.
It was written on the top of the Nike shoe box that had been lying at the side of his bed.
Had to go for flight. Thanks for catching me last night. Cxoxo
The box had made it to the recycling bin, but he’d torn off the lid with her words on it and stuck it to the fridge, where he’d read it a thousand times as his plan of what to do next had unfolded in his head.
‘I only got her first name. Cheryl,’ he replied, the corners of his mouth turning up when he said it. ‘She never told me her surname. I didn’t ask.’
This was bonkers. It was so out of character for him. It was impulsive. Daring. Bold. And the perfect romcom twisty tale, complete with drama, suspense and, of course, happy ending.
Because today was the day that Dev Robbins was going to St Lucia to track down the Cheryl of his dreams.
10 A.M. – NOON
5
BERNADETTE
There was still time to back out of this nonsense. What was she thinking? Why would she want to go away for two weeks, entirely on her own, when she could spend the time at home relaxing in the garden and having the kids over in the afternoons to give Nina a break?
The beeping horn of one of those little terminal transport vehicles made her jump as it moved past her, a smiley couple on the seat facing backwards. Bernadette briefly contemplated hitching a ride, but changed her mind. She could do this, even if she could feel the sweat buds popping out on her forehead.
The connection between her flight from Glasgow to Gatwick, and then the next one to St Lucia was always going to be tight, but, bloody hell, she hadn’t realised it would require a sprint. Yet another sign that she should just park her arse, get a cup of tea, then book the first flight back up to Glasgow.
She’d kept her earphones in, just in case Sarah tried to get in touch with her with news, so, feeling very trendy and high-tech, she just pressed a button on the left one when it began to vibrate. Her son, Stuart, had taught her how to do that. It had taken a whole afternoon, and a couple of accidental calls to people in her contacts list, but she’d mastered it eventually. And the people in her local Chinese takeaway had been very understanding about the six calls in the space of an hour. She’d ordered a chow mein for two on the last call by way of apology.
‘Hello?’
‘Dear God, Mum, why are you breathless? Are you being chased? Should I hang up and call the police?’ The very same Stuart who had taught her to use the earphones. If she’d known they’d become weapons of sarcasm and teasing, she wouldn’t have bothered.
‘No, son, I’m in training for the next Olympics. Middle-aged speed walking. It’s a new category.’ People passing her probably wondered why she was grinning. Stuart had that effect on her. A newly qualified criminal lawyer, he worked at a legal aid firm, defending everyone from shoplifters to a bloke who was being prosecuted by the council for having sheep in the garden of his terrace house.
‘Glad to hear you’re getting new hobbies. I believe solo travelling is on the list now too.’
Bernadette panted. ‘Honestly, you and your sister can spread news quicker than CNN. I’m at Gatwick. Just going from arrivals to departures. I’ve got less than an hour, and I’m going to have to stop soon for oxygen in case my lungs explode.’
There was a warm chuckle at the other end. ‘I’m glad you’re still going, Mum. How many times have you changed your mind in the last hour?’
‘I reckon I’m in triple figures.’ She sighed. ‘Am I being crazy? I was just thinking I could come back and have a nice relaxing holiday in my garden. I mean, what am I going to do in St Lucia for two weeks?’
‘Think how wonderful it is and how far you’ve come in the last five years.’
‘I don’t need twenty-quid cocktails in the Caribbean to know that though,’ she protested.
‘Mum, do you remember the last time we went on holiday? All four of us?’
Bernadette’s body was charging forwards, but her mind was rewinding. Of course, she remembered. Kenneth had cancelled the trip to Barbados two or three times due to his work, so when they’d finally managed to go, Bernadette had mixed feelings. She was glad for the kids that they were going to get to spend a couple of weeks on holiday with their dad. By then, Nina was about seventeen and Stuart was ten and Kenneth worked such long hours that he barely saw them most weeks. On the other hand, though, it meant that she had to spend fourteen days with him too. In a row. With no escape. Keeping up the appearances of a happy marriage was just about bearable at home. She’d been doing it for so long, that she was well-practised in the art of Pretending You Still Love The Man You Married, of keeping the peace, of tolerating his rants and his ego. It was worth it, she’d told herself. He loved the kids and they worshipped the ground he walked on. He always had a kind word and a hug for them. Great father, terrible husband. Now, Bernadette knew that they saw the other side of him too, but back then, she thought she’d shielded them from it. No one could shield her though.
On that flight, Nina and Stuart had been sitting in the two seats in front of them in business class. Bernadette would have been perfectly happy with economy, but the great Dr Kenneth Manson wouldn’t travel any other way. He’d completely ignored her for the whole flight, keeping his head in his book, except for when the very attractive flight attendant came by with a drink from the bar or their meals. She was tall, slim, glamorous, with her rich tawny hair in an elegant chignon at the nape of her long, thin neck. Bernadette had felt herself improve her own posture every time she saw her coming, then had watched as Kenneth flashed her his beaming, perfect white smile. She didn’t blame the attendant for flirting back. Kenneth didn’t wear a wedding ring and he had barely acknowledged her since they’d taken their seats, so the poor woman probably had no idea that he was sitting next to his wife.
Bastard.
Still, Bernadette had kept her cool. It wasn’t worth it. And, truth be told, by that time, she honestly didn’t care. As long as he didn’t upset the kids, he could do whatever he wanted. If he was giving someone else attention – of whatever kind – then he was leaving her alone.
He’d disappeared a couple of times during the flight, presumably to stretch his legs, but Bernadette had just kept her headphones on so she could listen to some retro eighties tunes, while losing herself in the latest Danielle Steel novel. Living in Ms Steel’s world was inherently more enjoyable than living in Kenneth’s.
Their first day at the resort was a beauty, with sun, sea, golden sands and squeals of laughter from Nina and Stuart as they attempted to master windsurfing and failed for the first hundred or so times. Kenneth was out there with them, the perfectly formed Alpha male, his body chiselled to perfection with his daily gym workouts and cycling. There was no denying they’d aged differently. Kenneth could pass for someone ten years younger, but Bernadette… she was realistic about what two children and twenty years of night shift on a busy A&E ward had done to her. She’d gone from stunning to… softer around the middle. Comfortable. Pretty. She looked exactly like what she was – a middle-aged working mum who didn’t have time for a whole lot of self-care. But she was happy with that. She didn’t mind. She loved her job, adored her children and she’d found a way to deal with Kenneth – she just told herself that every passing day was a day closer to the kids leaving home and then she’d pack her bags and be free of him.
That day at the beach, she wasn’t letting Kenneth get under her skin. When the afternoon sun had faded, they’d showered and changed, then the kids went off to the resort’s teenagers’ disco, Nina sulking a little because, at seventeen, she felt far too mature and sophisticated. Didn’t stop her spending an hour doing her make-up, right enough. As soon as they were gone, Kenneth had announced he was going for a walk, and Bernadette had felt the strands of tension in her shoulders loosen. If he was with her, he’d only ignore her, criticise her or want to have sex, and none of those options appealed. Instead, she’d got a couple more hours of peaceful bliss on her own, sitting out on the terrace with Danielle Steel and a gin and tonic. Heaven. So much so, that she’d lost track of time until Nina and Stuart had returned, faces beaming, all full of chat and plans they’d made with the people they’d met at the disco. It was only then that Bernadette had realised Kenneth had been gone for hours. She was about to suggest they go find him, when Nina got there with the answer first.
‘We saw Dad,’ she’d blurted. Bernadette had spotted a slight flicker of apprehension in her daughter’s eyes and braced herself. Something wasn’t right. She was chewing her bottom lip, a sure sign that she was worried about something.
‘Did you, love? Where was he?’
‘He’s… erm… in the bar with that lady from the plane. We passed them on the way back, but he didn’t see us.’
Do not react. Do not react. A career in A&E gave her every tool for masking her feelings and being calm in the face of a crisis, heartbreak or fury.
Bernadette aimed for nonchalance. ‘The lady from the plane?’
Nina’s hands were fidgeting and there was a line of worry between her eyebrows. Bernadette could see that she knew exactly what this all meant. ‘Yeah, the air hostess.’
Bernadette had wanted to close her eyes. There was no shock. No surprise. Of course, that’s where he was. She should have guessed. The man couldn’t help himself – just one of the many reasons she despised him. That didn’t matter now though, because there were two choices: go over there and announce to everyone within earshot that he was a lowlife cheating bastard, tip the largest beverage she could find over his lowlife cheating head and tell his chirpy date that she could shag him until his lowlife cheating penis fell off… or bluff it out and reassure the kids that everything was fine. The first one was oh so tempting, but…
‘Ah, yes, she was lovely and invited us for drinks, but I fancied a couple of hours of peace. It was nice of your dad to go, though.’
The relief in Nina’s face was instant and Bernadette had watched as her beautiful girl processed that it was okay. There was no big drama. This was fine.
Bernadette had felt her rage rising further, but again, covered it flawlessly. How bloody dare he? It was one thing risking their marriage and humiliating her, but to stress the kids like that? Selfish git. How could he risk hurting their family? Because he was a spoiled, egotistical, nasty bastard, that was why. The ultimate narcissistic control freak, who thought of himself over everyone else. Right at that moment, she had never hated him more.
Now, years later, as Bernadette bustled towards the departure gate for the flight to St Lucia, sweat running down her back and into the waistband of the trendy skinny jeans that Nina had talked her into buying, her opinion of Kenneth hadn’t changed, even though the hatred was long gone. He couldn’t hurt them now. Couldn’t damage their lives. He’d done that time and time again, but she’d survived him, beaten him, lived to tell the tale.
Now it was time for her.
Stuart’s voice sat somewhere between amused and concerned as it blasted into her earpiece. ‘Mum? Mum?’
‘Sorry, son, think I had a dodgy signal there. Yes, I remember that holiday. Every moment of it.’
‘Then you’ll remember that Dad was a complete tosser to you.’
She’d been so sure back then that she was protecting them, but she knew now that they’d seen far more than she’d ever realised.
She tried to keep it light and teasing. ‘I do remember that, thank you, son. Good of you to remind me.’
‘Well, that tells you everything,’ he said. ‘That’s why you need to do this, Mum. He took all those incredible experiences away from you. Don’t let this one go, either.’
Bernadette groaned. ‘Och, I much preferred you when you were a huffy teenager who kept his thoughts to himself. All this wisdom is so overrated.’
His laughter made her smile. How lucky was she to have somehow made these two incredible adults? Not perfect, because no one was, but wonderful all the same, in their very own perfectly imperfect way. Yes, she’d hated Kenneth, but she would always be grateful for the family they’d raised together.
‘Right, you can stop nagging me. I’m pretty sure I’ve lost five pounds and my lungs could explode at any moment, but I’m at the gate.’
‘And you’re going to get on the flight?’
Bernadette was momentarily distracted by three tall blokes in jeans and leather jackets, two of them wearing dark glasses, who were sitting on the row of seats to her right. They looked like rock stars. Miserable rock stars, but pretty cool all the same. Exactly the kind of guys that Kenneth, her uptight, self-important conformist ex-husband, would be horrified by. For some reason, that made her smile.
‘Yes, I’m going on the flight, son. I agree with you and your sister. It’s definitely time I had a little adventure of my own.’
6
TADGH
‘What’s up with you today, bro?’ Shay asked him, digging his elbow into Tadgh’s ribs. ‘You’re acting like a bloke on his way to his funeral, not his fecking wedding.’
Tadgh fought back the urge to grab his brother’s intrusive elbow and snap it in two and instead he shrugged and moved to the free seat on the other side of Conlan. However, his brain was still back at the moment he’d seen that text.
I don’t think I can do this. We need to tell him as soon as you get here. It wasn’t a mistake for me. I love you. Cxoxo
Shay had turned around a split second after Tadgh had retrieved the phone from the floor, but Tadgh had already clicked the button to clear the screen, so his brother wouldn’t know he’d read it. In some ways, he wished he hadn’t. It had been on a permanent loop in his mind for every minute of the flight from Dublin to Gatwick, during the transit from arrivals to the departure gate, made longer by having to go through security for a second time. They’d made it to the gate with only a few minutes to spare before boarding was due to start. Every single second of that time, he’d wanted to say something, wanted to challenge his brother, to make him read the text aloud and get some kind of explanation, but it was so unfathomable, so absolutely shocking, that Tadgh was desperately trying to absorb it, to excuse it, to find some way that this could be something other than the very obvious first conclusion, that his fiancée was shagging his brother. He felt himself retch at the very thought of that, and Conlan backed away slightly and dealt out a warning. ‘Man, don’t puke on me. I just got this jacket cleaned.’
In any other moment, his best mate’s priorities would have made Tadgh laugh. Not today.
The irony was that if the tables were turned, Shay would have punched Tadgh’s lights out first and asked questions later. That had always been his brother’s way. They’d been in school scrapes and bar fights on too many occasions throughout their lives, and every single one of them had been kicked off by Shay’s temper. It used to drive their poor mam crazy, God rest her. She hated it when her boys fought. Jesus, what would she make of this? She’d drag Shay out of here by the ear and berate him, then pray all the way to the chapel for his mercy.
Despite every reservation, and every cold chill of dread, Tadgh was going to have to say something though and there would be one of two outcomes – either there was a simple explanation, in which case he could stop freaking out, or Shay would admit something had happened, in which case… in which case… Tadgh had no fecking idea what he would do.
