Maggie remembers who Holly was. She knows who Holly is. She still sees the stream of passion bubbling away underneath and knows full well that if anyone could bring it to the surface, it would be Will.
Maggie is the one person who knows about the night that Tom and Holly slept together. Maggie had held her breath with anticipation, fighting the excitement that made her shiver inside, for she had always hoped that Tom and Holly would get together, had always thought they had the ability to bring out the best in each other, to be one of those couples that could change the world.
Tom was too young then. He wasn’t ready. Maggie always hoped that time would work its magic, that they would find their way back to being lovers again through their friendship, but then Marcus had come along, then Sarah, and she knew that was one wish she would have to set aside.
And now Will. That she had never imagined. Although, naturally, she is not surprised. But her fear is that once Will has unleashed a passion in Holly, he will not be able to deal with it.
She doesn’t know what she has done wrong, but Will has always been frightened of commitment.
Others say he just hasn’t met the right woman, and she is willing to accept that may be so. But there are those other times when she knows she has babied him too much, given him unrealistic expectations that have taken away any responsibility he may have had to deal with, in case it caused him discomfort or pain.
If she were to walk past the tea shop today, look inside and see Holly and Will, Holly gazing adoringly up at Will, resting her head on his shoulder as she strokes his hand and turns his head towards hers for a kiss, Maggie would groan.
‘Oh God,’ she would whisper. ‘Not again. Please not Holly.’ Other people might look at Will and think he feels the same way, but not Maggie. And she is, after all, his mother. She is the woman who knows him better than anyone else in the whole world.
Chapter Twenty-seven
The old Land Rover bumps over the driveway as Holly, Saffron, Olivia and Will head back home with the boot filled with food for tonight’s dinner and, of course, Saffron’s prized Cotswold cottages.
There is another car in the driveway as they pull up to the house. From afar, Holly catches her breath, but it couldn’t be… could it? A black Mercedes, a recognizable number plate.
‘Whose car is that?’ Saffron wonders out loud. ‘Doesn’t look like the plumber’s.’
‘No.’ Holly’s heart sinks to her knees. ‘It’s Marcus.’
Her first instinct is to hide. Childish, she knows, but she doesn’t want to see him, doesn’t want to face him, wants to continue to pretend, as she has been pretending these last few days, that she has no husband, that she is as free and single as Will.
Oh God. Will. How difficult this will be. How uncomfortable. Is it possible that Marcus will be able to see the guilt in her eyes? Is it possible he will look at her and know – sense – that she has been unfaithful?
Although she is still telling herself she has not been unfaithful. If ever she were impeached, she thinks wryly, she knows what she would say: ‘I did not have sex with that man.’
She turns her head, aware that Will is looking at her.
‘You okay?’ he mouths, and she nods, swallowing hard. She is shocked but not surprised that Marcus is here. Marcus is a man who believes he must get what he wants.
Memories flood into her head as they drive closer. The countless times Marcus decided he wasn’t being treated importantly enough. In restaurants, hotels, airports. Marcus demanding to see the manager, never introducing himself as Marcus Carter, always insisting on being called Mr Carter – even when he was in his twenties – to men who were far more important and senior than himself, then explaining imperiously why their behaviour wasn’t acceptable.
He usually bullied them into submission. He got upgrades, freebies and letters of apology. It didn’t matter that all of them disappeared into their offices thinking he was a pompous arse, rolling their eyes when their secretaries buzzed through to inform them that Mr Carter was on the phone. What mattered to Marcus was that he got what he wanted.
He always got what he wanted.
He was treated as important because he demanded it. People kowtowed to him, pretending to be happy to see him because he expected it and because he made too much of a scene if they didn’t.
Holly has always been embarrassed by the way Marcus treats people. Holly treats everybody exactly the same. She doesn’t judge them by what they look like or how important they are; and there have been times, so many times, when she has been mortified by Marcus’s behaviour and wanted the ground to open up and swallow her whole as she listened to him rant and rave about someone’s unacceptable behaviour.
These last few days have been the happiest days she’s had in years. Fourteen years, to be precise. She has barely given Marcus a second thought, and – oh God, why?–now he’s here, and as Holly climbs reluctantly out of the car, she doesn’t even realize that the veil of unhappiness, the veil that has always protected her from Marcus, has kept her both withdrawn from the rest of the world and safe from harm, has silently and stealthily slipped over her head.
Marcus is sitting at the kitchen table with Daisy on his lap. Her arms are wound tightly around his neck, and she has a huge grin on her face as she says over and over again, ‘Daddy! I love my daddy! I love my daddy!’ Oliver is running excitedly around the kitchen table, holding the bag of things he collected on the nature walk, explaining what each thing is as Marcus tries to divide his attention between the two.
Holly stands in the doorway watching for a while, everybody too immersed in what they are doing to notice her, when someone taps her on the arm. She turns to see Anna, a look of apology on her face.
‘I’m sorry,’ she mouths. ‘I didn’t know what else to do.’
Holly places a reassuring hand on her arm. ‘It’s okay,’ she whispers back. ‘I’m a little shocked, but I’m glad he’s with the kids.’
Daisy looks up and sees Holly. ‘Mummy!’ she squeals, wriggling off Marcus’s lap and running over to her, wrapping her arms this time around Holly’s legs.
‘Hi, darling.’ Holly kneels down to give her a kiss, grateful she doesn’t have to meet Marcus’s eye, grateful she can busy herself with Daisy, win just a few more seconds of time before she has to confront the inevitable.
‘Holly?’ She hears something – anger? Hurt? Dismay?–in his voice and finally looks up.
‘Hi, Marcus.’
‘Holly, we need to talk. Anna said she would look after the children. I thought maybe we could go for a walk.’
Holly nods. She knew this moment would come. She just wishes she was a little more prepared for it.
The others stay away. They are huddling together upstairs in one of the bedrooms, clearly talking about Marcus. An uncomfortable silence falls as Holly walks in.
‘Okay, okay!’ Saffron puts guilty hands up in the air and Holly raises an eyebrow. ‘We’re sorry. We were talking about you. Are you okay?’
‘Depends on your definition of okay. Listen, Anna, can you take the kids again? Marcus and I are going for a walk.’
They don’t say anything for a while. Holly is hunched up, hands tucked firmly in her pockets, shoulders raised to protect her from the wind. And Marcus.
The sun is dipping slowly behind the bare branches of the trees lining the edge of the field, and Holly looks over at the sky, thinking that under different circumstances the peace and beauty of this scene would redeem her soul.
Holly loves walking. Loves exploring. Was in heaven in Gloucester with Will, not just because she was with Will, but because they were wandering around, chatting, going into shops that caught their eye, exploring narrow lanes that were off the beaten track, finding unexpected tea shops and making the time to go in and have tea.
This was how she lived her life before Marcus. She loved nothing better than exploring or going for long walks in the country, with or without friends. She always dreamt of having someone t
o share this with, someone who would happily meander through the streets with her, explore, be her partner and companion in everything she did.
But Marcus hates walking. Hates doing anything much other than working and occasionally shopping, but only in expensive shops where he is treated as he deems appropriate. Bond Street became their regular Saturday outing, not for any reason other than it kept Marcus happy.
They would go on holiday, and Holly would ask him if he wanted to go for a walk, and his answer was always no. Last summer they went to Key West, and Marcus sulked the entire time because Little Palm Island was fully booked, and they ended up staying at the Ocean Cottages, which Marcus thought was beneath him. He complained bitterly to the front desk manager about their room and was upgraded to a suite, which he still thought was horrendous. It ruined their trip.
He walked up Duval Street with her, hurrying her along each time she wanted to stop at a bar where live music was pouring out and scores of people milled around looking as if they were having fun. All except Holly and Marcus.
She peered longingly into those bars. ‘Can’t we just sit at the bar and have a beer?’ she pleaded, but Marcus sniffed disdainfully. ‘The music’s much too loud, Holly. You think you’d enjoy it but, trust me, you’d be asking to leave in two minutes.’
He didn’t want to go on the tour of Hemingway’s house. Nor did he want to explore the hidden gardens, or the beautiful old houses tucked away. So she went on her own while he stayed in the hotel and worked on the computer.
And now, strolling across the field, Holly thinks about how different they are. How different they have always been. And she wonders why she never admitted it to herself sooner.
‘We have to talk,’ Marcus says eventually, his voice still strained. Gruff and tough. The Marcus she has always known.
‘Okay,’ Holly says slowly. She doesn’t want to be the one to talk. She wants to listen first, to hear what he has to say.
Marcus takes a deep breath. ‘I didn’t mean what I said on the phone,’ he says quickly. ‘I thought I meant it at the time, but I…’ He tails off, then looks over at her for a second, showing his distress. ‘I never thought you would still go.’
Holly knows this. Knows that Marcus was employing the same bullying tactics he always has, fully expecting Holly to back down the way she always has. This time, though, for the first time, it didn’t work.
There is a long silence as Marcus waits for Holly to respond. She doesn’t. She doesn’t yet know what to say.
‘Holly,’ he says again, and this time he places a hand on her arm to stop her, to force her to look up at him. ‘I love you,’ he says pleadingly. ‘I don’t understand what’s happening to us. I don’t understand why you came here when you knew how important it was to me that you didn’t.’
I know, thinks Holly. I have always known how important it is that I obey you.
‘But that doesn’t matter now,’ Marcus says. ‘I’ve forgiven you. And I want you to come home now. I want us to be together again.’
‘You don’t get it, do you, Marcus?’ Holly is incredulous. ‘This isn’t about me coming down here or disobeying you. This is what I was trying to tell you that night we went for dinner.’
‘What night we went for dinner?’ Marcus genuinely doesn’t remember. He doesn’t know what she is talking about. For this is what he always does with things he doesn’t want to hear. If you rewrite history enough times, it’s as if it never happened. If you can pretend for long enough, eventually history will be rewritten.
‘When I told you how unhappy I am!’ Holly whirls on him. ‘When I said I didn’t feel that I had a marriage, or a partnership. I told you I never see you any more and that I’m not happy. That I can’t carry on like this.’
‘How can you say that?’ Marcus says, and she thinks he has finally heard. ‘How can you seriously say that? We have an amazing marriage. I love you, Holly. I mean I really love you. I love you more than I love anyone, and we have two beautiful children and a wonderful life together. I don’t understand. It just doesn’t make sense to me, how you can even think of throwing all this away.’
‘I know it doesn’t make sense to you,’ Holly says. ‘It doesn’t make sense to you because you never listen. You refuse to hear anything you don’t want to hear. I’m tired, Marcus. I’m tired of trying to explain to you why I’m not happy in this marriage and why I need some space. I just–’ fear dwindles her voice away to almost nothing–‘I just don’t think I can do it any more,’ she whispers.
And Marcus starts to cry.
Holly stands awkwardly, watching him. She has seen him cry only a few times before, and she doesn’t know quite what to do. It would feel wrong to reach out to him, to try to comfort him when she is the cause of this pain, yet it feels more wrong and more awkward to stand here doing nothing.
She reaches up and puts her arms around him. He buries his head in her shoulder, sobbing, and she strokes his back, feeling his pain, suddenly realizing how hard this is going to be. How hard to see someone in so much pain and to be the one who has caused it, knowing that you’re not able to do anything about it, not if you are to be able to live your life and be happy.
Not if you are to be true to yourself.
Marcus has let go. His defences are well and truly down. So rarely has Holly seen this side of Marcus, seen him vulnerable, and when she has done, in the past, those were the times she tried to convince herself that everything would be fine.
Marcus, so caught up in being a big shot, being important, needing to be seen as someone who is worthy of respect, is suddenly, alone in this field as the sun goes down, a little boy.
No more arrogance and pretence, just a scared little boy, terrified of the future, of his life being turned upside down, of not being the one in control.
And even as Holly attempts to comfort him somewhat with her hug, she knows there is no going back. If, at points during the last few days, even for a split second, she has ever thought of staying married to Marcus for the sake of the children, perhaps until they go to college, as she stands here with him right now, she knows she cannot.
She feels the strangest mix of emotions: sorrow, grief, relief. She feels Marcus’s pain almost as if it were her own, and despite seeing the real Marcus, seeing the frightened little boy, she means what she said.
She is done.
‘Please think about it,’ Marcus sobs, pulling away to look her in the eye. ‘Please come back. I miss you. I miss us. We have so much to look forward to, you’d be throwing away so much.’ He stops, unable to go on, and takes a few deep breaths before continuing. ‘I’m a divorce lawyer,’ he tries again, a different tack. ‘I see what this does to children and I see what it does to families. Our children don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve this. Whatever the problems are in our marriage, none of them is insurmountable. I can be home more, maybe work from home on Fridays. We can do marriage guidance counselling. I mean it, Holly. I’ll do whatever you ask me to do. I’ll do whatever it takes.’
‘Okay,’ Holly whispers, nodding, not knowing what else to say, hating causing him so much pain, hating that she knows she will only cause him more. ‘I need to think about it.’ Not true, but she is buying time, knowing she can only hurt him so much at a time.
‘I’ve booked a room,’ Marcus says. ‘I’m staying in a hotel, if that’s okay with you. Can I take you all out tomorrow morning? With the kids? Is that okay?’
Holly shakes her head. ‘I… can’t, Marcus. I just can’t. Not yet. But if you want to come and take the kids out, that’s fine. They’d love it. They’ve missed you.’
He gulps and swallows hard. ‘Okay,’ he says. ‘I’ll come and get the children early. Maybe I could take them out for supper tonight, though? Would that be okay?’
‘Sure.’
‘There’s a film on in town as well, Night at the Museum. I know they’d love it, but it’s a bit late. Would it be okay if I brought them back around nine?’
A film. Holly
doesn’t remember Marcus ever taking them to a film before. She doesn’t remember him spending any time with them unless she was present. Other fathers took their kids on the weekend, let the mothers have a lie-in, have a rest. Not Marcus. Marcus has never done anything with just the kids.
But she can’t dwell on that. Thank heavens he’s thinking of doing something now.
‘That sounds lovely,’ she says. ‘Hopefully they’ll sleep in, in the morning, and Daisy can always have a nap tomorrow if she needs it. They need to spend time with you. Thank you.’
Holly turns her head, gesturing back towards the house, and Marcus falls into step beside her as they cross the field, the sun now streaking the sky with pink and orange.
‘Where are you staying?’ Holly asks, not because she wants to know but because she’s struggling to make small talk.
‘Le Manoir.’ He grins and, in a flash, his humility disappears. ‘It’s fantastic!’ he enthuses, back on familiar territory once more. ‘I’ve got the Lavande suite, which you’d love.’
In her mind’s eye, Holly rolls her eyes. Here at last is the Marcus she has known. As he describes Le Manoir – the food, the service, the expense and luxury of it all – Holly knows that, without question, she is doing the right thing.
Poor Marcus. Perhaps if he had booked into the local B&B in the village, or an old inn on the outskirts of Gloucester, it might have been a different story. Unlikely, but possible. Perhaps if he had shown Holly that he wasn’t obsessed with needing to live the high life, she might have been able to glimpse a way forward.
But the minute he starts to describe Le Manoir is the minute Holly switches off for good. He may think she would love it because she has always accompanied him to the Four Seasons, the Peninsulas, the best hotels in the world, but Holly couldn’t care less. It just isn’t what she’s about, and she’s finally realizing that their worlds are so different, there isn’t a way to meet in the middle.