You Me Everything Page 22

  “That sounds serious.” She smiles, but I can’t bring myself to return it.

  “How would you feel if William and I went home early?”

  She inhales sharply, then releases it as if she’s not completely surprised.

  “I feel awful because it was me who persuaded you to come out here,” I continue, “but you’d still have Becky and Seb, and you could get it on with Joshua without us cramping your style. The last thing I want to do is leave you in the lurch, but . . .”

  She starts shaking her head. “You wouldn’t be leaving me in the lurch, Jess—I’m a big girl. Are you worried about what’s going on with Adam? Or is it that you want to be back with your mum?”

  “Both. I know my mum has Dad with her, but still. Plus, yes: I can’t believe what I did with Adam, drunk or not. Everything feels so complicated here.”

  She glances at the kids to check that they can’t hear, before leaning into me. “I understand why you’re worried, Jess. Adam goes through women like I go through knickers, and you’re worried that the same thing would happen to you, which would be horrible for William. But . . .”

  “But what?” I whisper.

  “You’re not just some woman.”

  “Technically, I am.”

  “I mean, you’ll always be more to him than that.” I wonder where this is heading. “What if it worked between the two of you?” she continues. “What if you managed to sort out the differences that drove you apart in the first place—”

  “It wasn’t differences that drove us apart, Natasha. It was the contents of Adam’s trousers. Besides, it really wouldn’t work. It’s ridiculous even thinking about it.”

  She sits back defiantly. “Why?”

  “Where do I start? The fact that we didn’t manage to stick it out the first time round. The fact that Adam and me mucking about together would mess with William’s head.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “And more than all that put together—times a million,” I continue fiercely, “is . . . that I am facing a future with a fatal disease.”

  She slumps back in her seat.

  And instead of being able to protest, to try to convince me to jump in with both feet because I’ve got nothing to lose, she realizes she can’t do that with me. Other friends, yes. Not me. I can almost see her head peppering with thoughts of what the next decade and beyond is going to hold for me.

  “It’s not something I could even contemplate, Natasha,” I continue gently. The urge to cry seems to rush up inside her, hard and fast. “That’s why I think it’d just be best for everyone if I go home.”

  She turns to the wall and silently takes a mouthful of wine, swallowing it hard. “It’s just not fucking fair, Jess.”

  I reach over and squeeze her fingers, still cold from the touch of the glass. “No, it’s not. But that’s the hand I’ve been dealt.”

  I glance over at the kids, and she sniffs away tears, pulling herself together before they become aware of any of this.

  “Okay, I get it,” she continues. “But don’t run away, Jess. You’ll just end up at home, alone, without me and Becky here to support you. And we want to do that, you know. That’s why we came.” I look down at the light sparkling against the rim of my glass. “Besides, William would be devastated.”

  I smile at her briefly. “Cheap shot.”

  “But it’s true,” she argues.

  “You’re right, but he’d get over it.”

  We both turn to look at William, who is currently playing with Poppy, teaching her how to spell cat.

  “B-C-T-R-P-E-D-G,” she declares.

  “Oh, well done!” he says.

  Natasha and I both chuckle, before falling silent. Then she says something that makes my heart tighten.

  “You’re still in love with Adam, aren’t you?”

  I open my mouth, but then don’t say a word.

  Because both of us already know the answer.

  Chapter 60

  I have one question for Becky the following day.

  “Why did you come home so early?”

  “Well,” she squirms, “I was just worried about what was going on back at the ranch.”

  “Nothing was going on! It was a doddle. The kids were great.”

  “There were really no tantrums?”

  “Not unless you count Natasha when she couldn’t find the corkscrew. Look, the idea was that you and Seb really relaxed and had a nice time.”

  “We did, kind of,” she protests, though I’m far from convinced. “Though I wish I hadn’t had that massive dessert. I’m going on a diet tomorrow.”

  “You don’t need to. You’re exactly right as you are,” Seb replies, appearing at the door.

  “Thanks, but my old jeans would beg to differ.”

  I laugh as we hear a piercing shriek from outside, followed by a cry of “MUMMMMM!”

  Becky wearily looks at Seb, who sighs and says, “I’ll go.”

  “I meant to tell you, I bumped into Adam earlier,” Becky says. “He looked . . . a bit odd.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Kind of intense. Speak of the devil.” Adam is walking towards us. I feel my shoulders tense.

  “Hi, Becky. Good night out?”

  “Lovely, thanks,” she replies as Poppy toddles in. He smiles, and I find my eyes drawn to his mouth. “Right, I’ve got to go to the supermarket to feed this lot or there’ll be hell to pay. Come on, Poppy, let’s get your raisins and go for the shopping. Catch you both later.” She glares at me unsubtly, before grabbing her keys.

  “Fancy a walk?” Adam suggests.

  “William will be heading back to the cottage after his soccer match, and I want to be there when he arrives.”

  “How about we go over there, then?”

  I nod tightly. “Fine.”

  We head to the woodland and make our way along the path, where speckled sunlight casts patterns on the carpet of dark ferns. As I gaze at the ground, he tells me he’s broken it to Simone that he can’t go traveling.

  “I said I didn’t want to leave William for that long. And . . . that I had feelings for someone else.”

  I force myself to look straight ahead. “Did she ask who?”

  I feel his eyes dart to me. “I don’t think I needed to spell that out.”

  I swallow. “So, how did she take it?”

  “She quit her job and told me she was leaving to catch a flight home to her parents this afternoon. Then she told me to expect her father’s lawyer to be in touch about suing me for intolerable working conditions.”

  I draw breath. “That went well then.”

  As we approach the cottage and sit on the chairs outside, I have a knot in my gut. I lift my chin, closing my eyes silently to feel the red heat of the sun on my eyelids as I fantasize for a tiny moment that I could make this work somehow. That I could mend the broken fragments of our family and put the jigsaw pieces of us together again.

  Maybe that’s why I feel the need to say something that’s probably woefully late in coming.

  “I’m sorry.”

  He looks bewildered. “What for? You were completely right about Simone and the trip.”

  “No, I mean . . . I’ve been thinking about what you said. About me letting you think you’d be no good at being William’s dad. I’m sorry I said he’d be better off without you. That was really wrong.”

  I register the emotion in Adam’s face as I continue. “It also . . . wasn’t true, as you’ve proved since we got here.” My eyes search his face. “He loves you, Adam, he really does. And since we’ve been here, I think you’ve earned his love. You deserve it.”

  He squeezes his eyes together, embarrassed at his reaction. “Jess,” he says urgently. “We can make a go of things, you know. We absolutely can. My feelings for you . . . they’ve
changed. No, actually, they’ve simply become crystal clear.”

  Adam keeps talking, arguing as if he’s taking part in a sixth form debate that it makes sense for us to be together, to try again.

  But I really can’t focus on his words. All I can focus on is what I haven’t yet told him. On what I’ve hidden from him for a decade.

  “Why are you crying?” As he turns to me, the look in his eyes makes my heart twist.

  “It wouldn’t work, Adam. We can’t be together.”

  I realize I’ve got to tell him everything. I owe it to him. I should’ve done it years ago.

  “The thing is . . .”

  But my voice seizes up, unwilling to be a party to this revelation. How do you tell a man who’s never fully vacated your heart something like this? When you know it’ll change everything he’s ever thought about you? When you know he’ll never be able to look at you again and see a woman he desires—only a woman he pities? I open my mouth to try, but he speaks first.

  “It’s that guy next door, isn’t it?”

  I splutter with shocked laughter. “What?”

  “That Charlie guy. He’s clearly mad about you.”

  I shake my head in disbelief.

  “It’s not him.” He crosses his arms defensively. “Adam. I never even fancied him. He’s just some guy I’ve met on holiday.”

  His eyes burn. “I understand.”

  “No, you don’t!”

  I want to fill my lungs and shout across the meadow: It’s not that Charlie guy. How could it be him when there’s still you? Lighting me up every time I’m anywhere near you. Filling me up with an unbearable longing every time I inhale the smell of your skin.

  Only that wouldn’t help matters. So instead, I say flippantly: “Adam, the guy wears cardigans. With a collar. I assure you, it’s not him.”

  I look up and see Charlie glaring straight at me, having heard every word. His eyes flicker away momentarily, before he turns and strides to his cottage, shutting the door behind him.

  Chapter 61

  An hour later, I’m curled up on the sofa, too ashamed to emerge into daylight in case Charlie’s out there. Wondering if I should go over to explain, or apologize. William, meanwhile, is moping about, saying very little and lost in his thoughts.

  “Why did you come back early from soccer?” I ask.

  He shrugs, refusing to answer.

  “Did you fall over again?”

  He looks up and glares at me, appalled by the idea that he’d perform to anything less than Real Madrid standard these days. “No, I scored.”

  “Oh!” I possibly sound a bit too shocked about this. “Gosh, that’s brilliant, William. So why so sad?” He shakes his head and frowns. “Come on, spit it out.”

  “The other kids called James gay. I told them to leave him alone, so they said I was gay too. But I’m not.”

  “Oh, William,” I sigh, feeling annoyed and proud all at the same time. “Well done for sticking up for him. Though . . . even if you were, that would be okay, you know. Just for the record.”

  One side of his lip rises as if I’ve failed to grasp this situation entirely. “I just didn’t want them to be mean to James.”

  “Yes, I know. Where was Seb when all this happened?”

  “He was reading a newspaper by the pitch, too far away to hear what was going on.”

  “Sweetheart, you did the right thing.” I walk over and put my arm round his bony shoulders, attempting to squeeze him into me, but he shakes me off.

  “Now I’ve got nobody to play soccer with. Just when I got good too.” He stands up and heads into his room.

  I let him go, until the urge to follow him becomes irresistible. I walk to his door and push it open, where I find him lying facedown on the top bunk.

  “William,” I say softly. If he were on his bed at home, I’d sit on the end of it and rub his back supportively, until he was so annoyed by the gesture that he’d be forced to talk to me.

  I put my foot on the bottom step of the ladder and go to climb up. It’s only as I’m on the third rung that I realize how unstable this whole thing is; it possibly wasn’t designed for two people, one of whom is a grown woman who has eaten so much cheese in the last three weeks that she’s considering burning her jeans. Still, I get to the top and try to hoist myself onto the mattress.

  “What are you doing?” William asks, turning over and sitting up as he scrunches up his nose.

  “Just coming to join you,” I reply, having finally scaled the bunk bed and crossed my legs, as though I’ve joined him for a sleepover. “Is something else the matter?”

  He responds with one of those preteen looks, the ones that are supposed to indicate that he’s confused, but only because I’ve asked a silly question. “No.”

  “Well, listen . . . I think I might have a solution to the fact that soccer isn’t really working out,” I tell him.

  “What?”

  “I’ve been having a think.” He looks up, as if this sounds horribly dangerous. “I reckon it’d be a good idea if we go home early. Perhaps tomorrow. I’ve had a quick look at the ferry schedule, and it’d only cost a little bit more to change the one we’re booked on. That way you’d be able to see your friends at home and play Garden Warfare with Jake and—”

  “What?”

  “I’m just saying . . . I thought we could perhaps leave. Tomorrow.”

  “NO!” he protests, so violently that I sit up in shock.

  “Look . . . just think about it.”

  He crosses his arms hard against his chest. “I’ve thought about it, and I don’t want to go.” His face has blanched white. He’s gone from being sulky to enraged in the space of ten seconds. He’s nearly shaking with it.

  “I know you’ve been having a lovely time with your dad, but he’s very busy with the business, and wouldn’t it be nice to be back with your friends?” I persevere.

  He glares at me, grinding his teeth. “Is this because you can’t get on with Dad?”

  I don’t know whether to cry or laugh with relief that he hasn’t worked out what happened the other night. “Well, no—it’s not that.”

  “It is, isn’t it?” he says furiously. “You hate him. You can’t even stick it out here for my sake. Just when we’ve become really good mates and he’s teaching me how to get better at soccer and—”

  “It’s not that, William,” I interrupt. “Your dad’s got lots on at work, but he’s already said he’s keen to organize a trip home to see you.” How do I tell him it’s not William I want to keep away from Adam, but me? I don’t realize how scared I am by the prospect of staying until he forces the matter.

  “Well, I’m not going anywhere,” he declares. “You can do what you like.”

  I blink incredulously at this new, unwelcome tone in his voice. “I beg your pardon?”

  “I said I’m not going.”

  I don’t know what it is about the way he says it, growls it, almost, but I am suddenly overwhelmed by how out of control this all feels. How wrong. I want to scream.

  “I think you’ll find I’m your mum,” I say, forcefully enough to hide how shaken I am. “So . . . so if I say you’re going, you’re going. And do NOT speak to me like that again. You’re ten, not twenty-five. And even if you were twenty-five, you shouldn’t be speaking to me like that. Or indeed anyone.”

  “Like WHAT?” he shrieks. “I can’t believe I’m being told off, and I haven’t even done anything. You’re the one who’s going back on all the plans and ruining everything. Deliberately.”

  There is something about the whinging, martyred tone in his voice that flips a switch in me. I suddenly don’t give a toss about everything I’ve read in the Supernanny books about how when you shout at a child they’ve won. I don’t care about trying to be reasonable. I can’t take any more of what life is throwing at
me, and this has tipped me over the edge.

  “Right, that’s it, William!” I yell. “You have literally NO idea what I have to deal with. You haven’t a bloody clue. Because if you did, you’d give me a break and just roll with me on this one. And you certainly wouldn’t go around speaking to me like I’m a piece of crap on the sole of your shoe, not the woman who’s brought you up single-handedly.”

  “You only brought me up because you wouldn’t let Dad come anywhere near me!”

  I can feel the enamel on my teeth biting into the flesh inside my mouth. “That is not true, William. It isn’t.”

  “Whatever. I’m not going home.”

  “Two things: First—speak to me like that again, and I am not letting you near that iPad until you’re in your seventies. And second, we ARE going home tomorrow. So if you don’t like it, tough. Life sucks sometimes, William. Get used to it.”

  At that, he pushes back the sheet and flips his legs over the bunk bed, vaulting down to the floor. Then he steps out of the door and slams it behind him, leaving a sickly dread in my chest.

  I’ve never had an argument with him like that before.

  Part of me doesn’t know what came over me. Part of me is still furious with him for being so insolent. Either way, guilt envelops me like a blanket, and I want to rewind and stop the last seven minutes from happening.

  I wearily begin to renegotiate the ladder, but it’s been a long time since I’ve been on one of these, and there is no vaulting involved on my part. Instead, I make the mistake of trying to go front first, realizing as I clatter down it with my pelvis in the air and my knees like a pre-basted turkey that this isn’t going to work. So I edge back up again, turn around and go the other way. I pause to gather my thoughts, before following William into the living room.

  Only he’s not there.

  “Where did William go?” I ask.

  Natasha looks up from the sink. “Just outside, I assume. Are you all right? That sounded bad.”

  “It was.”

  I walk to the door and open it, looking out into the courtyard. It’s empty but for a couple of nightingales hopping along the edge of the wall, bees swarming around the bougainvillea. “Didn’t he say where he was going?” I ask.