You Me Everything Page 21

  “Something happened last night.” The fewer people who know about this the better, but it is against the laws of friendship for me to tell Becky and not Natasha. “Something that shouldn’t have.”

  She blinks at me and says: “You and Adam?”

  “Who told you?”

  “No one. I predicted this ages ago. I didn’t say anything, but I knew this would happen.”

  I can’t decide if what I feel is disbelief or indignation. Either way, we’re interrupted.

  “Hello, ladies.” Sunlight glistens on the blond strands of Simone’s hair. Her smooth, plump skin is radiant and free of makeup. She smiles directly at me, and my cheeks prickle with warmth. “William’s getting much better at soccer, Jess. He’s come on leaps and bounds.”

  “Oh . . . that’s nice of you to say, Simone.” I smile uneasily, fixing my eyes on my son as he approaches the goal. The space between him and the back of the net is completely clear, but he still manages to welly the ball into the corner.

  “Oh, he was so close then!” Simone exclaims. Anxiety bubbles up inside me, and I desperately try to think of an excuse to leave. Natasha registers this and steps in to make conversation.

  “Simone, we were just debating where to visit tomorrow. Have you got any recommendations?”

  “Have you been to La Roque-Gageac yet? There are some botanic gardens. Adam took me for the most romantic picnic there once.”

  She talks at animated length both about notable local landmarks and the endless gestures of devotion that Adam has made while there. I, meanwhile, attempt not to die on the spot, of shame, guilt, regret.

  The only positive thing to say about all this is that it’s clear that she is oblivious to what Adam and I got up to last night. Any suspicions that might have been aroused while we were playing boules have dissolved entirely, which is bizarre, because I feel as though I am wearing my betrayal like a big flashing sign on my chest.

  “Don’t you think, Jess? Jess?”

  I realize Natasha has asked me a question.

  “Um . . . that sounds wonderful,” I reply enthusiastically.

  “I was complaining about the maggots I saw by the recycling bins on the road this morning.”

  “Oh. Sorry. In my own world.”

  “I’ve been like that myself lately,” Simone continues happily. “My mind’s not really on the job now I know I’m leaving.”

  My head snaps up to find her blue eyes piercing into me, her soft lips pinched into a half smile. “You’re leaving?”

  “Not until the end of the season. We’ve been keeping it hush-hush, but it’s been on the cards for a while.”

  “Where are you going?” I ask, trying to process this news. I suppose it would’ve been a record if she’d lasted as Adam’s girlfriend beyond the end of the season.

  “Around the world. Some of it, anyway. I’m in the process of planning it all at the moment.”

  “Gosh. Wow, lucky you. What a brilliant thing to do.” Adrenaline is streaming through my chest. “Which countries are you visiting?”

  “First stop is Southeast Asia. Adam knows someone in Thailand who he used to work with, so he’s putting us up for a week. Then we’re heading to Vietnam, which is supposed to be brilliant, although I did see a menu with roasted field mice on it online last week. Not sure I fancy that.” She giggles. As she babbles on, I feel as though the breath is being sucked out of me as I take in what she’s saying, trying to process it. Eventually, it’s Natasha who asks the million-dollar question.

  “Sorry . . . did you say Adam is going with you?”

  “Yes!” She grins, clearly enjoying the moment.

  Then her eyes widen theatrically. “Oh God, sorry, Jess! He probably wanted to tell you himself, what with William and everything. Though it’s not as though he sees much of him under normal circumstances, is it? It won’t even make that much of a difference—he’ll see him after a year, rather than every six months.”

  “But what about this place?” Natasha asks. “Who’d run it?”

  “The Blanchards.”

  “The couple he bought this place from?”

  “Yep. It’s a temporary arrangement, but they know the place inside out, Adam trusts them completely and they can’t wait to be at the helm given that the château has been in their family for generations. Adam will be checking in while we’re on the road.”

  The strength seems to leave my legs.

  “Sorry, Jess.” Her eyes are glinting, her beautiful face beaming. “But you had to know sooner or later. And you’re probably not even surprised. If there’s one thing we all know about Adam it’s that he hates being tied down.”

  Chapter 57

  I can barely comprehend the news that Adam is buggering off around the world with Simone. The fact that he was reacquainting himself with the stretch marks on my inner thighs a few hours ago is only part of the problem.

  In the dozens upon dozens of conversations we’ve had since we arrived—about our son, about him, about where to buy the best ice creams in Domme or how to get the lid off a bottle of beer without an opener—he apparently didn’t once think this was worth mentioning.

  Fundamentally though, what’s killing me is this: the entire reason I’m here is basically for nothing. I am going to have to return to England and break it to my mum that I’ve failed. That Adam hasn’t changed. In fact, nothing’s changed.

  I’d been deluding myself in thinking he’d turned over a new leaf and suddenly become a devoted father to the son he’s neglected for years. But apparently, he’s doing nothing of the sort. He’s simply spent a few enjoyable weeks with us, made William idolize him and is now going to disappear out of his life for a second time. Only now, William isn’t a baby who can’t comprehend what’s happening.

  This time, he’s ten years old and adores Adam. Moreover, William needs him, far more than either of them realize.

  The enormity of this punches me in the chest until I have to walk away before Simone sees my reaction. Natasha senses my anguish and tells me she’ll watch William while I go and do . . . whatever.

  I don’t even know what whatever is, beyond the fact that it involves striding into the château and seeking temporary refuge in the bathroom, away from everyone else. I eventually emerge with a head full of anger and an overwhelming urge to go home to England right this second.

  The feeling doesn’t subside, as William and I head back towards the cottage, the sweet scent of herbs and grasses under our feet completely at odds with my mood.

  “I saved a goal, Mum,” he tells me, excitedly.

  “Seriously?”

  “YES!” he laughs. “I wish you’d been there to see it. It was amazing!”

  “That’s brilliant, sweetheart,” I mumble. “Did you score any?”

  His face darkens. “Well, no,” he mutters, before launching into a detailed explanation of why scoring goals is overrated.

  “I’m so proud of you,” I say, sliding my arm around his shoulders. “How did you get so good?”

  “Dad,” he says simply. “He’s a brilliant teacher.”

  I feel the muscles in my back stiffen. “He’s so amazing at tackling, Mum,” he continues. “He’s really strong, isn’t he?”

  “I suppose he is.”

  “And he’s a really fast runner.”

  “Is he?” I murmur, as a Technicolor flashback of Adam kissing my neck crashes into my head.

  “Mum?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you having a funny turn? You look like Mrs. Garrett at school. She’s always having funny turns. She said that’s what happens when you turn fifty.”

  “I’m not having a funny turn. And I’m a long way from fifty. Now, can we talk about something else?”

  “Okay, what?”

  “Anything you like.”

  He thinks fo
r a minute as we arrive at the little car park behind Les Écuries. “How about the Jurassic period?”

  Charlie is strapping a surfboard on the top of his car. I know we’re not exactly an item, but the fact that I have slept with someone else—never mind that that someone else is Adam—is so embarrassing I can barely bring myself to look at him, let alone acknowledge him.

  “Hi, Charlie,” I say awkwardly.

  He looks up, finishes tightening a buckle and heads over. “How are you?”

  “I’m good, thanks,” I reply.

  “Did you enjoy the barbecue? Chloe said she saw you coming in this morning.” He scans my face, as if looking for an explanation.

  “Um . . . yes, we had a . . . yes.”

  His face tautens into an uncomfortable smile. “A ‘yes’?”

  I nod. “We . . . stayed over at Adam’s.”

  A heartbeat passes as Charlie attempts to decode this sentence. “William fell asleep, so I slept in the spare room,” I lie.

  I suddenly wish I could rewind the clock to a few days ago, when I was having a holiday romance—something that might not have led anywhere beyond the end of this summer but could have resulted in a few trips to the cinema or some nice dinners.

  “Would you like to go to dinner again?” I blurt out. I instantly realize that this is a feeble attempt at punishing Adam, at proving to myself, and him, that last night meant nothing to me. It’s an adolescent approach, I know, but right now, it’s all I’ve got.

  Charlie is visibly taken aback. “Really?”

  “Yes.”

  “I was getting the impression that there was something going on between you and . . .” But his voice trails off as he glances at William. “Sorry.” He smiles. “I’d love to.”

  Chapter 58

  As I march across the château’s grounds in search of Adam, my anger builds with each moment I fail to find him. Eventually, I head to reception and find Ben at the desk. He smiles with those sweet brown eyes, and the smattering of new freckles across his tanned nose seems to exaggerate his youth.

  “No William today, Jess?”

  “Um . . . not today. Have you seen Adam? He’s not answering his mobile, and I’ve been to the cottage but can’t find him.”

  “Last time I saw him he was on the way to the shed to look for a saw. Can I help at all?”

  I’m touched by the concern on his face. “I don’t think so. But thank you.”

  I find Adam at the front of the shed, bent over a bench as he pumps a saw back and forth, the bare skin on his arms glistening with moisture. He looks up as I approach, his face breaking into a smile. Then he registers my expression.

  He places the saw down carefully and walks towards me, wiping his hands on a cloth. He swigs a mouthful of bottled water before he speaks. “I came to look for you earlier.”

  Longing shines in his eyes, but I am numb to it, crushed by Simone’s revelations. He reaches out his hand, and I push it away. “I wonder if you could explain something.”

  “Sure, what’s up? Do you want to go and get something to drink?”

  “No.” Words clamor for room inside my head until I finally manage to get something out. “I saw Simone earlier.”

  He runs his hand anxiously through his hair. “That must’ve been awkward for you. I’m sorry, Jess. I’m going to speak to her today.”

  “Adam, she told me you’re going around the world with her,” I snap. “That you’d made some arrangement for the Blanchards to look after this place for a year and then you’re just . . . going. Is that true? Are you planning some big trip with her?”

  I can tell instantly from the look on his face that he is. “Right. This is complicated . . .”

  “No, Adam. It’s simple. Is it true? Have you booked the flights, planned to take the whole year, like she said? Or is she a liar?”

  He winces, before the confession begins to crawl out of him. “She’s not a liar. But that was before—”

  “Before what? It wasn’t before you knew you had a son who wouldn’t see you for over a year because you were off behaving like you’re still eighteen. Someone with no commitments. No cares in the world.”

  What a nag I sound. What a party pooper. For a moment I wonder if I’m jealous that Adam gets to do something I don’t have the luxury of dreaming about.

  “I was going to tell you when you first got here.”

  “So why didn’t you?”

  “Because I changed my mind.”

  “Oh well, that’s nice. So you were going to be honest and then you thought you’d just lie to us instead.”

  “That’s not what I mean. I changed my mind about going.”

  I’m about to continue, when I register his words. “What?”

  “I changed my mind about being away for so long. And about . . . everything.”

  “Er, seriously, Adam?” I say sarcastically. “I’m supposed to believe you’re not going but you haven’t broken this news to Simone?”

  He wrinkles his forehead. “I’ve been putting it off. I wanted to wait until after her birthday and see how things went with you and William here.”

  “So you were hedging your bets?”

  Now he stands square in front of me and crosses his arms. “Of course not. Jess, I realize I haven’t seen enough of William in the past, that I haven’t been the father I should’ve been.”

  “Quite right.”

  “But you’ve had a part to play in that too.”

  “Me?” Adrenaline is firing through my body now, and I can tell he wants to take the words back. But it’s too late. “How the hell can you say that, Adam?”

  He closes his eyes briefly and inhales. “Jess, I’d always been certain I’d be a crap parent. But what I should’ve done—I now realize—is just got on with it anyway. Like parents do, whether they feel qualified or not.”

  I know what’s coming next.

  “I am not blaming you, Jess. But you did make it absolutely clear that you wanted me out of your life—and out of William’s life. You told me he’d be better off without me. I’ve never mentioned that since, because . . . well, because I was already convinced you were right.”

  I swallow, my breaths getting shallower.

  “I should’ve fought harder,” he continues. “Tried to prove to you and to myself that I could be a better parent than the ones I’d had. Instead, I went along with the idea.”

  I’m lost for words as he continues talking. “There was always a bit of me that hoped things could be different though. I had no idea how, but I thought a lot about him spending holidays with me over here, just like this one.”

  Adam had asked me once if I’d visit with William when he was a toddler. I can’t remember exactly what I’d told him, but I’m fairly certain it was a polite version of “sod off.” I feel smothered by this conversation.

  He wipes sweat from his brow with one hand and sits down on a log. “When you emailed me out of the blue saying you were coming over here, I was over the moon. I mean that. Then as the whole thing went on, the more time I spent with him, something started gnawing at me. I knew I couldn’t go off round the world with Simone. I didn’t want to go off round the world with her. But Simone is a good person. A nice person. And I’ve been a shit to her. I’ve slept with you, for a start.”

  My eyes flicker to the ground.

  “So I was trying to pick my moment to tell her that I can’t go. But you’re right. It’s now. In fact, it was weeks ago.”

  I close my eyes and take everything in, how the sizzling fury I felt only minutes ago has dissolved, replaced by something completely different. Salty tears gather in the rims of my eyes, and I try to blink them away before Adam can see.

  “I need to get this over with,” he says.

  “Oh God, well now I feel like I’m colluding with you,” I sniff.

 
; He stands up and reaches out to touch my hand. Then he pulls me in towards him and puts his arms around me, as I wrestle with the ache in my chest. I gently push him away.

  “I have to go,” I whisper, but he reaches out for my hand again.

  “I want to tell you something first.”

  “What?”

  “Jess . . . last night. It really meant something for me.”

  I look at the floor. “Don’t, Adam.”

  “Why not? It might’ve been some drunken mistake for you, and if that’s the case, then . . . Christ, I can’t argue with you. But I need you to know that it wasn’t for me. You mean more to me than—”

  “Stop,” I whisper and pull away my hand. “Please, just . . . don’t.” And then I turn away and run towards the dark woodland, grass scratching my ankles as I trip over my own feet, and I wish I could run all the way home to Manchester.

  Chapter 59

  The question of whether I could or should engineer an early departure from France dominates my thoughts for the rest of the day. Even with the distraction of a cottage full of kids to babysit.

  “So, Poppy,” Natasha begins, perching on the sofa, “how about a story?”

  Poppy looks up. “I hungry.”

  “Oh. Okay, would you like a banana?” She grabs one from the bowl.

  “I like sum sweets.”

  “Oh dear, we haven’t got any. How about this instead? Mmm . . . yummy.” Natasha kneels down and peels the banana, before handing it over. Poppy looks at it as if it’s been scraped off the bottom of her shoe.

  “NOOOOOO!” She thrusts it back at Natasha. “Put it back!”

  “Put what back?”

  “BACK BACK BACK!” Poppy flings herself on the floor.

  “What does she want?” Natasha asks, bewildered, as James looks up from the picture he’s coloring in.

  “She wants you to put the banana back in its skin.”

  It’s ten minutes before Poppy has calmed down, and Natasha pours a glass of wine for each of us.

  “Can I ask you something?” I begin, as she hands it to me and sits down.