Margaret graciously accepted Libby’s offer of a cup of tea, but in a way that made it look as if she were doing her a favour. ‘Yes, I heard him last night, coming in very late from the pub, I assume. Has he said that’s why he’s back?’
Luke had gone out shortly after walking in on Libby and Alice – where, Libby didn’t know. She hadn’t liked to ask. The more she saw Alice and Luke together, the less certain she was about that whole situation.
‘Luke’s volunteered to sort out the electrics for nothing. He’s saving us thousands of pounds.’
‘Well, that’s a charitable explanation, but I’m not sure I believe it.’ Margaret sipped her tea. ‘He never lifted a finger before, not when his father and I needed him. No, if you ask me, there’s another reason.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes. I worry about Alice.’ Margaret dropped her voice. ‘That poor girl is extremely vulnerable, and Luke knows it. I’ve seen the way he looks at her, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d been up to something while he was staying at that pub. At least Jason could have had a word if he was here. I think it’s high time we encouraged her to move back in with her boyfriend. Gethin seems a lovely boy, and that is her home . . .’
Libby widened her eyes. How could you think that about your own son? ‘No, Margaret, I think we ought to encourage Alice to take that relationship at her own pace. She needs space to get herself together.’
Margaret stared at her, as if Libby were holding something back. Then she raised her chin. ‘Well, there are plenty of mothers in this town who’d agree with me. But since there’s nothing useful I can do, perhaps Bob would enjoy a walk. Have you seen him?’
‘Alice has just taken him out, actually.’
Her mouth quivered. ‘I really am quite a spare part here, these days,’ she said in a high voice. ‘Not even needed to walk my own dog.’
‘Alice needed some thinking time – it’s nothing personal,’ said Libby. ‘I’m sure he’d love another walk later.’
‘Maybe you could put me on the waiting list,’ she snapped, and before Libby could say something more tactful, she stomped out, nearly bumping into Luke, who was coming in. Margaret gave him a glare as she passed and he recoiled.
‘Something I said?’ he asked, when his mother had retreated down the corridor.
‘No, something I said.’ Libby rubbed her eyes. She was beginning to realise how much of a buffer Jason had been with Margaret. ‘I didn’t want her to feel pressured to help. Now she’s acting like I’m leaving her out. I can’t win.’
‘You get used to it.’ Luke pushed his dark hair off his face with a wry smile. ‘After about twenty years or so.’ He was dressed to start work on the rewiring – battered combats with various screwdrivers and pliers and drill bits in the pockets, and a tight grey T-shirt that revealed his tanned biceps. Libby had only seen him in his off-duty clothes, but in his work gear, he looked extremely competent, in a more interesting way than someone who was just fitting radiators. She could imagine Luke coolly deactivating bombs – or casually scoring tries straight from the clubhouse bar.
Her mind spiralled off momentarily. If he’d been dressed like that to hang around Alice’s pub, Libby thought, then she was surprised Alice had managed to fight her way through the locals to get a word in edgeways.
‘So, have you made me a list?’ said Luke. ‘Of what needs finishing?’
Libby shook herself. ‘Towel rails. And some extra lights. And can you teach me how to wire plugs, so I can sort out some lamps?’
‘What? You don’t know how to wire plugs?’ He pretended to look aghast. ‘No, that’s no problem. Have you got the towel rails, or do you want me to get them? I can probably get a discount.’
‘That would be so helpful!’ said Libby. ‘I took a photo of some I saw in . . . Oh. They’re on my camera.’
‘And?’
‘Alice has got it. She’s gone out with Bob – I asked her to make up a walk for the website.’ Libby saw something cross Luke’s eyes and she remembered how quickly he’d turned and left when he’d interrupted them upstairs yesterday. What had he seen? What had he assumed, more to the point?
He hesitated, then asked anyway. ‘Is she . . . ? Is Alice all right?’
For a second, Libby wavered over pretending nothing was wrong, but Luke seemed genuinely worried. And he’d been nothing but considerate to her. She couldn’t share Margaret’s suspicions about him preying on Alice like some kind of dodgy bar hawk.
‘She’s got a lot to think about,’ she said. It was vague enough. ‘She’s gone for a walk. On her own.’
He didn’t reply. Questions swirled round Libby’s head, most too awkward to ask. But Luke knew Alice better than any of them, and if she was going to help her . . .
‘Alice and Gethin,’ she started uncertainly. ‘They were all right, weren’t they? I mean, I suppose they must have been, if . . . well, if Alice is . . .’ She frowned at herself. What was it she was trying to say?
There was a pause; then Luke said, ‘She didn’t tell me much about him. Just that he was a sensitive soul, and he’d had a tough time. I got the feeling she was quite protective.’
‘She’s a loyal person,’ Libby agreed.
‘Very loyal.’ Luke fidgeted with a screwdriver in his pocket. ‘Listen, I heard some of what Mum said. About me “taking advantage” of Alice.’ He raised a hand as Libby started to demur. ‘No, I have to say this . . . It wasn’t like that. OK?’
His strong cheekbones had flushed pink, and he looked offended.
‘So what was it like?’
He frowned at the floor, thinking. This was the most personal conversation Libby had ever had with Luke, and she was transfixed by his energy. He was sharper round every edge than Jason, less predictable, fiercer. For better or worse, he had a determination about him Jason didn’t have.
Luke’s spent his whole life trying to prove he’s not what people think he is, she thought. Jason’s had the luxury of everyone assuming he’s a good boy straight off. So much easier. Or so much harder to live up to?
‘Talking to Alice was like talking to someone I’ve known all my life,’ he said, then stopped himself. ‘You think things are working out, then? With her and Gethin.’
Libby didn’t know how to reply; his intense gaze was saying something more than his words. She didn’t want to share Alice’s secret, but it could give his question a very clear answer.
‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘I guess so. She’s stayed over a few nights now . . .’
They stared at each other, the moment lengthening between them as Libby struggled inside. He knew an Alice she didn’t.
‘Good,’ said Luke. He pressed his lips together. ‘Good. I’ll, er, have a chat with Lorcan about the towel rails.’
‘Would you? Thanks,’ she said, and as he turned to go, she wondered if she’d actually heard the question he was asking, let alone answered it.
Alice had strolled down the hill, round the edge of town – having taken a nice panorama of the hill, and one of the town, spread out like a child’s drawing of steeples and roofs – and was almost into the park when she heard someone calling her name.
She turned and her heart lifted. Luke was jogging towards her. He waved, and she stopped walking to let him catch her up. Bob was oblivious, his head down to the ground, snuffling up a scent, letting the chemicals dance and explode in his huge nose. Something similar happened inside her when she saw Luke jogging nearer, in his work gear.
‘Hello!’ He wasn’t even out of breath. ‘I understand you’ve got Libby’s camera?’
Oh. He only wanted the camera. ‘I have. Do you need it?’
‘Yes, it’s got photos of towel rails on it. Very specific towel rails that she saw in some shop. I’m going to see if I can track them down.’
Alice reached into her bag and passed him the camera with
out saying anything. He turned it over in his hands, then looked up, his eyes cautious. ‘Actually, that’s only partly the reason I came to find you. I was hoping to catch you on your own.’
‘Oh?’ Her pulse sped up treacherously and she fought against it. Stop reacting to him, she told herself. Be normal.
‘Yes, I wanted to apologise. For bursting in on you and Libby yesterday.’ Luke picked his words with care; he seemed determined to say something but in the right way. ‘I’m sorry if I interrupted.’
Alice turned back to the path and started walking again. She felt more comfortable when she was moving. One foot in front of the other. Going somewhere. Not having to look Luke in the eye, and risk letting him see all the confusion churning around. There shouldn’t be confusion. It was so simple, really.
‘And you’re assuming that was my private moment and not Libby’s?’ she said.
‘Your expression . . . kind of gave it away, to be honest.’
My face, thought Alice. It tells everyone something about me. Doesn’t tell me anything.
She stared down the path, where Bob was following the scent in a businesslike fashion, his long ears swinging side to side, in time with his round bottom.
‘You didn’t interrupt,’ she said. ‘But . . . don’t mention it to anyone, please? I need some time to think about it.’
‘Sure.’ Luke fell into step, half on, half off the path. His hand swung a few centimetres from hers; he made no attempt to touch it, but Alice was conscious of its nearness. She had to tell herself not to grab it; instinctively she knew his fingers would feel comforting around hers, and that he wouldn’t mind, but then what? Almost as if he could sense her unease, Luke stuffed both his hands into his jacket pockets. Silence covered them both like a shared umbrella.
‘You don’t mind if I walk down into town with you?’ he added, almost as an afterthought.
‘No, not at all.’ Alice made her tone light. ‘You think you can find Libby’s towel rails in town?’
‘I’m pretty sure I know where to look. Wondered if you fancied a coffee? I can bring Bob back, if you’d rather be on your own?’
‘No, no, it’s fine.’ She smiled. ‘Quite enjoy his company, actually. Makes me feel athletic.’
Conversation faded away as they walked, but the silence was relaxed. Alice felt suspended in the balance again, somewhere between the person she felt she was and the person she’d been before, the one she couldn’t remember. And this new person in the future. Yet somehow Luke’s presence steadied things. Quietly, undramatically, he knew exactly who she was.
‘How’s Gethin?’ he asked.
‘Fine. He sent me some emails this morning. From when we first met.’ He hadn’t been pleased about her going to the hotel; Alice had had to make up an excuse about Libby being ill.
‘You’ve got email?’ said Luke. ‘Why haven’t you been checking it?’
‘I don’t.’ Had Luke emailed her? Had she not replied? ‘Well, I do, but I can’t remember what my email passwords are, and my laptop’s password locked.’ She glanced over at him. ‘So much for modern technology, eh? No, Gethin printed some out and posted them to me the old-fashioned way.’
‘Oh. Right. Did they bring anything back?’
Alice shook her head. She hadn’t even recognised Gethin’s small, neat writing on the envelope when she’d seen it lying on the mat with the hotel post, first thing. Inside, clipped together in chunks, were rambling conversations between them after their Italian retreat: they were her words, and her stories – her parents dying, her loneliness, anecdotes about work, and Fido – but Alice had the curious sensation of reading someone else’s mail. They were romantic, hopeful emails, intoxicated with the first thrill of soul-baring, but her eye snagged on details she wished she’d kept to herself. The married boyfriend. Her hangovers. She didn’t really like the version of herself she’d confessed to.
But it had proved one thing: she and Gethin had had a very emotional, meeting-of-minds connection. They’d fallen in love under an Italian full moon. He sent her poetry. She sent him songs to listen to. She had that ring, his slideshow of holiday snaps, physical proof of the woman he adored when he looked at her.
‘They didn’t jog my memory,’ she said slowly. ‘But they’re facts. I don’t have a lot of them to go on.’
Well, apart from the huge fact staring her in the face.
‘Did Gethin hack into your email to get them?’ asked Luke.
‘No, he printed off his replies.’ Alice wasn’t sure what Luke was getting at. ‘Why?’
‘Just wondered.’
Alice swung her arms. Gethin’s emails were one kind of evidence, but everything her body did when she was with Luke felt like another kind: the relaxation she felt, the ease of their chats, the unconscious way they fell into step as they walked. It was as if her body were trying to present her with a different version of events – but they were only feelings. And what if something had happened between them? Did she want to be a woman who cheated? Had the accident happened just in the nick of time?
‘He must be very excited, about the baby,’ said Luke. He was looking straight ahead, his hands still in his pockets.
Alice’s head swung round. Hearing it from his mouth, so calmly, was a shock, but he carried on staring straight ahead.
She stared ahead now too. ‘I haven’t told him yet.’
‘No?’
‘No. I want a day or two to . . . think. I know he’s desperate for me to move back. Soon as I tell him, he’ll be planning. I—’
Lord Bob interrupted her with an imperious bark that made them both jump. Alice looked over to see what had caught his eye and spotted one of the dog walkers with the multiple leads – one of the same ones whose charges had wound Bob up before. She had six dogs this time, and one of the small white ones was already bouncing up and down, straining to get to Bob for a good yell.
‘Oh, not again.’ Her head ached. ‘I don’t have the energy for this today.’
‘We’ll go this way,’ said Luke calmly, diverting Bob up a different path. ‘You’ll have to tell Gethin soon, though, won’t you? Won’t he notice?’
It hit Alice: the days were ticking by, whether she willed them to slow or not. Luke would finish the electrics and then he’d leave, and then she’d have to tell Gethin about the baby and that would be it: she’d move back, no more hotel, no more Luke, just her and Gethin. Two strangers and their baby.
‘Luke,’ she said suddenly, desperate to say something she couldn’t quite express properly, ‘you’d tell me, wouldn’t you, if . . . if there’s anything I should know?’
He stopped walking and looked at her. ‘About what?’
Alice’s chest felt as if it were being compressed: adrenalin and fear and hope pumping through it at once. Say it. Jump. ‘About us.’
Luke didn’t reply. He just looked at her, and she felt as if she could see right inside his head. His expression was so confused and sad that Alice felt an answering wash of sadness in herself: Oh God, yes, there had been something. There had.
‘Alice, I’m not—’ he started, but then Lord Bob lunged forward, all five stone of him nearly pulling her off her feet, yanking her arm painfully in its socket.
She stumbled, Luke caught her, and she barely had time to register the shower of sparks that shot through her whole body as his hands held her before she saw a white blur coming towards them across the grass that you weren’t supposed to walk on at this time of year.
Lord Bob was straining on his lead and Luke took it from her.
‘This happened the other day.’ Alice’s voice didn’t sound like her own. ‘Libby says they’re dogs from the rescue over the hill.’
It was a white dog, covering the ground between them like a rocket. None of the other dogs were following it, and Alice could see the walker running after it, shouting apologies while stil
l holding on to the leads of the others. Some of them didn’t look that pleased with the enforced trot.
Alice’s heart twisted. ‘That dog looks exactly like Fido, my old dog,’ she said.
‘You sure it’s not? It looks like it knows you.’
‘No, Fido was run over,’ she said automatically, but the dog didn’t seem to be heading for Bob, as she’d assumed. It was running straight towards her, with a very familiar stiff-legged gait, one dark patch over the eye and a small-dog determination. A dog who’d seen someone it feared had been lost forever.
A dog she’d promised she would never, ever leave. A dog who hadn’t forgotten that promise, who’d been hoping, and looking, and longing, and whose strong terrier heart was daring now to burst with joy.
Alice put her hand up to her mouth, too shocked to speak.
It was Fido.
The dog was barking now, yapping in uncontrollable delight, and when she was within about three feet of them, she launched herself straight at Alice, bouncing up into her arms, which Alice realised she’d stretched out without thinking.
The terrier was licking her face, barking, then licking, then squealing with happiness, her tail wagging so hard her whole body was almost propelled out of Alice’s grasp with each wag, and Alice realised she was crying and laughing too.
‘Fido!’ she kept saying, over and over, nuzzling her nose into the little dog’s warm body. ‘Fido!’
Of all the weird and unsettling things that had happened to Alice in the last few weeks, this was the only one that made her heart explode with bright white happiness.
Chapter Twenty-Five
‘I am so sorry!’ The dog walker – a tall, dark-haired woman in a gilet – caught up with them just as Fido had completely covered Alice’s face in licks. ‘I can’t apologise enough. That has literally never happened to me before. Are you all right? She slipped out – look!’ She held up an empty collar. ‘She must have been really keen to see you.’
‘Don’t worry.’ Fido was nestling into Alice’s neck, rubbing her head in delight against her face. ‘She’s fine.’