The Night You Left Page 2

  Her mother appeared and told Rosa she looked stunning. Then she remembered Taisie. ‘You look lovely too, darling.’ She went outside to speak to Nick’s dad, who was waiting for them in his car.

  Their school was only a bus ride and a short walk away, but Tim insisted on getting them there in style. He drove a sports car, so she wasn’t arguing. He used to be in a rock band, like donkey’s years ago. They made one album apparently, though Taisie had never listened to it. It was only on vinyl.

  Nick was wearing ripped jeans and a T-shirt and looked really good. He wasn’t exactly the best dresser normally, which was surprising because his dad always looked so cool. Maybe Tim had given him a few tips. Once she was his girlfriend, the first thing Taisie was going to do was go through his wardrobe. She glanced at Rosa. She was giggling and batting her eyelashes. Perhaps she should have been clearer. Nick was hers.

  Alex went back to his TV programme, but Rory and Izzy came running out of the sitting room and stopped dead, looking up at her and Rosa and back at Nick. Izzy’s eyes filled with envy. Taisie gave her a shove. Her sister was thirteen and desperate to be going to parties.

  ‘You look wicked,’ Rory said.

  Nick high-fived him. ‘Thanks, dude. You look pretty cool in those pyjamas.’

  Rory glanced down, smoothing his hands over the picture of Thomas the Tank Engine. ‘I got them for my birthday. I’m eight now.’

  ‘Well, lucky you.’

  Izzy was still staring.

  ‘You look like a frog,’ Taisie said.

  She snapped out of it and stuck out her tongue.

  Nick caught Taisie’s eye and smiled, his cheeks colouring, and she felt her heart give a little skip. ‘Are you ready?’

  ‘You’ll be the belle of the ball,’ her father called after them. ‘Knock ’em dead!’

  She stuck out her tongue. ‘Embarrassing.’

  They linked arms as they left the house. Tim had his window down and his forearm resting on the frame, and he was drumming the door lightly with his fingertips. His smile took in both girls as they teetered down the front path in their high heels. He winked.

  ‘Well, look at you,’ he said.

  She grinned, unsure whether he was teasing. You could never tell with Tim Ritchie. He took the piss a lot.

  Nick scowled at his father and slid into the front. Taisie sat behind him. The car smelled of leather and Tim had Pulp playing on the CD player. There wasn’t much legroom, but she and Rosa opened their windows and rested their elbows on the frames, like Tim, and smirked at each other. Taisie glanced at Nick’s profile and fantasized about him kissing her again. It was amazing how much had changed. She didn’t see him as a kid any more; but as someone with potential. Despite the angry crop of spots at the corners of his jaw, his dad’s aura of cool was beginning to rub off on him.

  GRACE

  Thursday, 12 April 2018

  LOTTIE IS LAYING THE TABLE WHEN NICK GETS BACK. I’m standing beside the hob with a glass of wine in my hand, waiting for the potatoes to cook through so that I can mash them. The door thuds, his keys clatter in the lopsided blue-and-red dish that Lottie made in Year 3. He comes in and passes me the shopping bag, stopping to ruffle Lottie’s hair.

  She pushes his hand away. ‘Nick! I’m not three years old.’

  Once upon a time I tried to get her to call him Dad or even Daddy Nick, but she wasn’t having it. My ex, Douglas, is Dad, for better or for worse.

  I prod a potato with a fork, then switch off the heat and drain the water out of the pan. Nick rests his hands on my waist and plants a kiss on the back of my neck.

  ‘Oh God,’ Lottie groans. ‘Please don’t do that in front of me. It’s gross.’

  ‘Dangerous too,’ I say, as steam billows into my face. ‘Do you know how many accidents happen in the kitchen?’

  ‘Nope. Do you?’

  ‘No. But I’m sure there’s a scary statistic. So, did you bump into anyone?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Just wondering. You were longer than I expected.’

  He takes the potato masher out of my hand. ‘Here, let me do that. No, I didn’t see anyone we knew. I walked further than I meant to. It’s gorgeous out there this evening. It feels like summer’s come early.’

  Lottie pours three glasses of water and lays the table. I notice how careful she is to make it just so, knives with their blades facing in, forks exactly parallel. I don’t know if that’s because she’s naturally like Douglas, or because he’s made her like that.

  ‘Friday tomorrow,’ I say.

  ‘Thank God. Have we got anything on this weekend?’

  ‘No. Nothing. But Lottie’s out on Saturday night. We could do something.’

  She and half her class are going to be at a sleepover at Hannah’s. It means a bonus evening all to ourselves, but the pay-off will be a tired and grumpy child on Sunday. I don’t envy Cassie and Evan Morgan. They did the same last year – gluttons for punishment.

  The conversation rumbles on, a backdrop to the choreography of a normal mid-week evening. I barely notice it at first, but after a while I realize I’m doing most of the talking. If Nick does speak, it’s mainly to Lottie.

  Nick takes a beer out of the fridge. I steam the greens. Lottie complains about her history teacher who is ‘a nut-job’, a sadist and a loser who enjoys tormenting his pupils.

  ‘You should feel sorry for him,’ Nick says. ‘Imagine what his home life must be like, to have turned him into such a monster. Maybe teaching is the last thing he wants to do, maybe he thought he would be a rock star.’

  He could be describing his father. I dart him a look. He sounds overly jocular, like a teacher trying to buck up his class at a rainy sports day.

  ‘Maybe his wife’s run away,’ Lottie says.

  Nick laughs. ‘Looking on the bright side. Well, let’s hope not, poor chap.’

  ‘You’ll never leave Nick, will you, Mum?’

  ‘No, of course not,’ I say. ‘He’s stuck with me, poor man.’

  I glance at Nick, meaning to share a smile, but he’s not looking at me. A shadow crosses his face.

  ‘Everything OK?’ I ask.

  ‘Yeah. Fine. Supper smells good.’

  The timer pings again and I take the mince out of the oven. Nick dishes up generous heaps of buttery mashed potato and Lottie carries the plates to the table.

  This is my family, my little boat.

  Later, I’m reading my novel waiting for Nick to come to bed. When half an hour goes by and he doesn’t appear, I pad downstairs and find him sitting at the kitchen table staring blankly at his phone.

  ‘Are you coming up?’

  I wrap my arms around his shoulders. I can’t shake off a sense that there is something he’s not telling me. I worry that he’s found out about my past, but there’s no way he could have done. Not after all this time. He turns and wraps his arms around my hips, presses his head against my abdomen and briefly kisses my stomach, and I breathe a silent sigh of relief. I stroke his hair and he looks up.

  ‘I love you,’ I say.

  ‘I know you do.’

  ‘Then come to bed.’

  He smiles and closes his laptop, then takes my hand and we go upstairs. I watch him undress with that familiar feeling in the pit of my stomach that is part familiarity, part excitement. After those awful, confusing years with Douglas, I feel so lucky to have met him.

  ‘Fuck!’

  ‘Nick?’ I mumble, pushing myself up on my elbow and fumbling in the darkness for the light switch.

  Nick is crouched in a corner of the room, with his arms crossed over his face, shrinking back against the wall as though he’s being attacked. I dash over to him, but he lashes out when I try to help. I lurch back, landing on my bottom.

  ‘Nick, it’s OK. It’s not real.’

  When was the last time he had one of these episodes? Not for at least three years. They’re brought on by stress and change.

  He lets his hands drop to hi
s knees and goes still. When I hold him, I feel shudders ripple through his body.

  ‘It’s OK. Everything’s OK.’

  ‘Did I hurt you?’

  ‘No. I’m fine. Come on, back to bed.’

  He gently prises my arms away, pushes himself up off the floor and crawls under the duvet, rolls over and falls asleep.

  Why now? I spoon into him; feet, calves, knees, thighs, stomach and breasts; the length of his body against mine, my head pressed into the gap between his shoulder blades, my hand cupped round his hip. Then I can sleep.

  The next day I get in with Lottie to find Nick already home. He says he needs to concentrate on a presentation and goes up to his study. I follow him, feeling anxious because he hasn’t kissed either of us hello. When I open the door he’s sitting hunched over his computer, one elbow on his desk, his head supported by his hand. The room is tiny, one of those half-landing ones. It feels as though it’s floating over the surrounding gardens. He has it because he’s the birdwatcher and nature lover. Mine is at the top of the house and looks down on the street.

  ‘Hey.’

  He swivels his chair round, and I walk in. I stroke his hair, but he takes my wrist and pulls my hand down to his chest.

  ‘Do you want to talk about last night?’ I ask.

  ‘Last night?’ His brow creases.

  ‘Your nightmare.’

  ‘Oh, that. It’s just a bit of work stress. Sorry, Grace, but I’ve got to get this done. It’s for Monday and I’d rather get the prep over with now than spoil the rest of the weekend. I’ll be all yours tomorrow.’

  I keep hold of his wrist, lingering, until he pulls away and turns back to his screen. I wait a moment, before quietly closing the door behind me.

  Nick can’t bear people worrying about him.

  TAISIE

  July 2000

  SHE STARED FIXEDLY OUT OF THE WINDOW AS THE countryside swept by, trying to tune out her siblings. She had been looking forward to spending time with Nick on holiday, sort of scared but excited, and now she couldn’t think of anything worse. She couldn’t rid herself of the image of Nick kissing and fumbling in the shadows with, of all people, Rosa. And she wasn’t the only one who had seen; so had all her friends.

  Her father kept glancing at her in the mirror. He did it every bloody five minutes. Honestly, what had it got to do with him? But at least he knew she existed. Her mother was oblivious. She wouldn’t notice if her eldest daughter was dying, let alone at a crisis point in her life.

  Why had she boasted to Rosa like that? Snap my fingers and he’ll come running. God. She felt sick to her stomach. She had never felt anything like this before. She didn’t think she would ever get over the humiliation. All she could do was stalk off with her head held high, but she had been followed by Rosa, who ran after her insisting that it wasn’t what she thought.

  ‘And anyway,’ Rosa had said. ‘You told me you weren’t into him.’

  No doubt she had relayed the whole thing to everyone by now. They would all be laughing behind her back.

  ‘Are you looking forward to seeing Pansy and Freya?’ Izzy asked.

  Taisie dragged her gaze from the window. ‘You’ve asked me that, like a million times.’

  ‘Sorry.’

  ‘You’re not to be a pain and follow us around.’

  Izzy scowled. ‘I don’t see why you have to keep them all to yourself.’

  ‘Because we’re fifteen and we need to be able to talk about things that you’re too young to hear.’

  ‘But that’s not fair. I’m not a child.’

  ‘Yes you are.’

  Izzy went puce. ‘I am not!’

  ‘Whatever.’

  She did actually feel sorry for Izzy. Her sister was past the point where she wanted to play with their little brothers, but she wasn’t mature enough to hang out with Taisie and the Moody twins. She could always tag along after Nick. That would serve him right.

  The thought of him dragged her all over again into that dark, hot well where her feelings were churning. She would never, ever forgive Nick Ritchie; not for as long as she lived.

  She released a long sigh. Her father glanced at her – again – and she shot him a filthy look. His eyes smiled but she wasn’t interested. Her mother reached between the front seats and took Izzy’s outstretched hand.

  ‘All right back there?’ she said.

  Why was it always Izzy who got the sympathy? When they got in last night, after dropping Rosa and Nick home, her mum had yawned and gone up to bed. It wasn’t that Taisie wanted to confide in her, or anything, but she could at least have noticed that she was unhappy. It had taken a huge effort not to cry, but Taisie was sure it showed. Her eyes stung so they must have been red.

  The drive home had been totally weird. Nick got into the front even though it was Taisie’s car, leaving her to sit in the back with Rosa. Rosa was all sweet and caring, telling her how much she was going to miss Taisie while she was away, and how she was her best friend. And she kept looking at Taisie worriedly, and oh God, it was so false and put on. Nick talked to her mum, banging on about films he rated. He looked at her only once, in the rear-view mirror; a questioning look, wanting to know if they were all right. Well, they weren’t.

  Rory leaned forward and put his sticky hands around her head, blindfolding her.

  ‘Get off!’

  He laughed and let her go.

  ‘What is the matter, Taisie?’ her dad said. ‘For Christ’s sake, cheer up. You’ve had a face like thunder all morning.’

  ‘I bet Taisie kissed a boy,’ Alex teased. ‘And he ran away.’

  ‘Fuck off, you moron.’

  ‘That’s enough!’ her mother said and slapped her on the leg.

  It stung, but Taisie welcomed it. It interrupted her misery, shot it through with energy. She sighed loudly then turned back to the window, put her earphones in and blocked the lot of them. She was not going to let Nick get away with this.

  GRACE

  Saturday, 14 April 2018 Day Zero

  THE WIND CATCHES AT MY HAIR, FLICKING A STRAND across my face where it sticks to my lips. I pull it away and twist it behind my ear. Nick, Lottie and Toffee are running towards me. Toffee is well ahead, but he keeps turning to check they are behind him.

  Nick bends double with a stitch and Lottie imitates him.

  ‘Old man,’ she says. ‘Sort yourself out.’

  ‘I’ve been thinking,’ I say. ‘I might ask Anna Foreman to dinner.’ I watch his reaction carefully.

  He’s about to throw a stick, but he stops, arm mid-arc. ‘Anna Foreman?’

  ‘Yes, you know. Kai’s mum. Perhaps you haven’t met her. She’s new and I feel guilty because I haven’t made much effort. I owe her for that time she picked Lottie up when I had to work late. I’m thinking of maybe asking Cassie and Evan. And Susanna and Peter? I’ll have to dredge up an extra man from somewhere. Unless you think that doesn’t matter.’

  He walks ahead of me, flings the stick and shades his eyes with his hand, watching the dog sprint gleefully into the bracken. ‘To be honest, I’m not in the mood for a dinner party.’

  ‘It wouldn’t need to be anything formal. Just a casual kitchen supper. I don’t much like dinner parties either.’

  He waits for me. ‘Let’s not. I can’t face it.’

  ‘OK. We can do it any time. Perhaps it was a bad idea. She can come to a barbecue in the summer, when there’re lots of people round. It’ll be easier.’

  When I get nervous I tend to placate. I understand that I’m safe with Nick, that this is leftover insecurity from a chaotic childhood but sometimes it’s hard to control. It used to irritate Douglas, but he gave me good reason to feel jealous and insecure. Nick has never done that.

  ‘Don’t plan me into anything, Grace.’

  ‘Well, of course I won’t if you don’t want me to. Is there something wrong?’

  He doesn’t answer for a moment, but he walks faster, striding through the long grass. I keep up, tuc
king my arm through his. He wraps his hand around mine.

  ‘Sorry. It’s office politics. Things aren’t great at the moment.’

  ‘I thought you loved it there.’

  ‘I did, but I’m not sure that I like the way the company is heading. It’s only money, Grace, stress and money and greed. It’s beginning to feel meaningless, a way of pedalling through life. There’s got to be more.’

  ‘You can do what you like,’ I tell him. ‘Don’t stay if you hate it.’

  He pulls me round and hugs me. ‘Even if it means I take a pay cut?’

  ‘I don’t care how much you earn. I just want you to be happy.’

  Toffee barks, exhorting us to come on; there are sticks to be thrown, birds to be chased, smells to investigate. Lottie runs up and joins our hug and Nick breaks into a smile of pleasure. It’s family that makes him happy. It’s the three of us.

  Toffee scampers up and I pat his flank. ‘Yes, you can join in too, you old softy.’

  He spins round and drops his chin into my hand, looking up at me with those forlorn eyes; the eyes Lottie and I couldn’t resist when we found him at the dogs’ home. His character is needy and touching on obsequious, but Lottie and I think that’s because he worries that as we took him from the home, we have the power to take him back.

  ‘Nick said we can go to the cafe,’ Lottie says.

  I glance at him, and he shrugs. ‘I said you’d have to ask your mother.’

  She smirks. ‘Which means he agrees.’

  Nick laughs. ‘I wouldn’t mind.’

  He slips his arm around my waist and we turn back along the footpath, Toffee taking the lead while Lottie roots in the undergrowth for sticks to throw for him.

  It’s a glorious spring afternoon and Wimbledon Common is busy. The shrieks of children bounce across the open spaces; there’s birdsong and laughter and the occasional whistle for an errant dog. My mind is miles away when Nick suddenly speaks.

  ‘Will you marry me?’