Anna stared, trying to take in as many details as she could without looking obvious. So this was Harvey? He wasn’t how she’d imagined. She’d assumed, for some reason, that Harvey would be lean and hungry, a car salesman with ambition and a sharp suit, all jargon and sexy money talk. This man looked like a regular at the rugby club, the guy who always drank the yard of ale in under two minutes. He didn’t seem the type of man you’d be scared of. Not the way Michelle seemed to shrink whenever she mentioned him.
Anna couldn’t imagine him with Michelle at all. And yet how long had they been together? Seven years? It gave her a strange, tilting feeling, that maybe she didn’t know her friend as well as she’d thought.
Phil was looking at her too, with a ‘This is him?’ look, which he wiped off his face when Owen turned back, grinning.
‘Phil, Anna, this is Harvey, my brother-in-law. Harvey,’ he continued, ‘this is Phil, Anna, and my beautiful date for the evening, Rebecca.’
‘Lucky chap! Pleased to meet you.’ Harvey shook hands with an extra over-the-top-hand-clasp, the mark of a car salesman, thought Anna. ‘My own car, by the way,’ he added, as if it didn’t really need an explanation. ‘I love this chap like a brother but there’s no way I’d let him drive my Rapide!’
‘Why? Is he dangerous behind the wheel?’ Phil demanded.
‘No, no. She’s just my pride and joy. Fancy a spin later?’
‘Well, we’re not going out . . .’
Phil’s protective father act was wilting very fast in the presence of the car. Anna gave him a nudge. ‘Shall we let them get away?’ she said. ‘Time’s getting on.’
‘What? Oh, er, yes. Be back by one. Give me a call if there are any problems. And I mean any. Problems.’ He directed a meaningful glare at Owen, who smiled his charming smile and put an arm around Becca’s slender waist.
Becca smiled too, her face radiant enough without the special expensive compact Anna had lent her for the evening. Well, given. ‘We will. See you later.’
‘Have a good night,’ said Anna. ‘You’ve earned it.’
‘Thanks.’ She leaned forward and gave Anna a kiss on the cheek that nearly made Anna cry. Becca had earned tonight, she thought – the hours of revision, the help in the shop, the general patience when everyone else had been a pain. She deserved a Cinderella moment.
Chloe and Lily watched as their big sister drove off.
‘She looked like a princess,’ said Lily. ‘A happy one.’ Then she turned on her heel and ran into the house, Pongo chasing after her.
23
‘I loved being scared as a child and read Stephen King’s Christine when I was about twelve (sorry, Mammy,Christine but I did). I’ll never forget that first rollercoaster lurch of being terrified to read on, but not being able to tear my eyes from the page.’
Emer Kelly
Michelle sat at her kitchen table with the accounts all around her, but she couldn’t concentrate on the figures. She was thinking about Becca and Owen at the prom, and it was dredging up some unwelcome memories of her own.
Owen had looked nervous and excited when she’d seen him that morning, not the usual peacock swagger he displayed on dates. He’d even asked her opinion about his outfit, and had his hair cut.
At least he’d had a prom. She hadn’t been able to offer any advice, having been excluded from her own. I hope he’s being sensible, she thought.
Somewhere, back in her parents’ house, there was a white ballgown with accompanying strappy silver sandals. Often tried on, never actually worn. In a different dimension, one in which things had worked out properly, she and Ed Pryce had had the romantic evening she’d painstaking planned in daydreams; then started dating, gone to university together, probably had a few years apart after that, but then bumped into each other in a London bar and realised they were meant to be; got married, had two children called Ivo and Clare, and—
The doorbell rang and Michelle jumped, as if Ed might be there now.
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ she said aloud. It was much more likely to be Rory, needing some milk or wanting to read the paper at her.
Still, she put on a slick of lipstick to make it look as if she was on her way somewhere more interesting when she opened the door. But the person outside was almost as much of a shock as Ed Pryce would have been: it was Harvey, in a suit and a peaked cap.
‘What are you doing here?’ she blurted out, her fingers clenching.
‘Charming,’ said Harvey. His eyes glittered in the light of the solar lamp hanging from her door. ‘I drive all this way to whisk you out for dinner and that’s the thanks I get?’
‘You haven’t driven a hundred and fifty miles to take me out for dinner,’ she said, taking in his outfit. ‘Why are you wearing a hat?’
‘OK, I’ll come clean,’ he said, stepping inside even though she hadn’t invited him in. ‘Nice place you’ve got here, by the way. Still just you, is it? No, I’ve been on chauffeur duty tonight, ferrying your little brother and his date to the “prom”, as I believe we’re supposed to call it now. Had a couple of hours to kill, so thought I’d come over here, see if you’d eaten. Have a chat. Since you seem so reluctant to come back to the big city.’
Michelle’s skin prickled as Harvey’s broad frame brushed against her fragile glass wall art. His tone was affable but already she was tense. She put aside the matter of him not asking if she wanted to go out for dinner, and focused on the part of the plan she had been informed about.
‘Why did you come, though? I asked Dad if Owen could borrow his E-type for the night. He was going to let Owen drive it up and then I was going to drive it back to—’
‘I know, I know. Very sweet idea, but come on, Shelley, in the great Top Trumps of cars, I think you’ll find my Aston Martin beats your dad’s knackered old Jag hands down. Surely a car connoisseur like you would know that. And I thought you might like to see it.’
‘Becca doesn’t know anything about cars. She wouldn’t care.’
‘All girls like a powerful car,’ said Harvey with a lascivious smile, and she felt ill.
This wasn’t about Becca, or Owen. This was about her mum saying to Harvey, ‘Ooh, here’s a chance to go and get in Michelle’s good books,’ the interfering old bag, and he knew it.
‘Plus, I’ll admit it, I wanted to see my wife,’ he said, and smiled. ‘Is that so bad?’
Michelle stared at him and fought the urge to scream. This had to stop. All she wanted right now was to get Harvey out of her house.
‘I’ll get my coat,’ she said.
Rory could talk for Scotland but at least some of what he had to say was interesting, Michelle thought, as Harvey ordered another mineral water for himself, summoning the waiter in a rare break from his narrative about the state of the pre-loved car market in outer London. He went on and on, ignoring her attempts to interject, until she gave up and watched his teeth instead. He’d had veneers. He was vain like that.
Harvey’s loud voice, gold watch and attitude stood out in Ferrari’s. The waiter had definitely perked up when he ordered a Barolo from the lower part of the list, even though she was the only one drinking it.
‘So, how are things going with your shop?’ he asked. ‘Or should I say, shops?’
‘Up and down,’ she said, guarded. There was always a right answer with Harvey, and not always the obvious one. ‘What’s Mum said?’
‘Just that you’re so busy you don’t have time for them. Which is a shame. Funny that’s what you’ve ended up doing. I never saw you read a book in all the time we were married,’ he mused, as if he himself were Jeremy Paxman and she was illiterate. ‘Have you got someone doing the actual book part for you, while you concentrate on the paintwork and so on?’
‘No,’ said Michelle. ‘I’m very involved in the bookshop. My manager and I run it together. We arrange reading groups and local activities and author appearances. I get a lot out of it. It’s a community thing.’
‘Good for you. Good. For. You. Is
it making any money, though?’
‘It’s doing all right,’ said Michelle, then bit her lip. Don’t give him any details, she told herself. That was how he worked, wriggling in on the details then storing them up.
The main course arrived and Michelle was glad of the break. Her muscles were aching with tension even though she’d done nothing but sit on a fashionably uncomfortable seat for half an hour. She never noticed the chairs when she was in here with Anna.
‘It sounds as if you’re seeing a lot of my mum and dad,’ she said, as Harvey began to dissect his fish, surgically removing the flesh with a bit too much relish.
‘Well, someone has to.’ He said it lightly, but clearly he meant it. ‘You know your dad’s not so well?’
‘No. I didn’t know that.’ Anna put down her knife and fork, her appetite gone. ‘Mum didn’t say anything.’
‘Oh, he’s had a few check-ups. I’m sure Carole didn’t want to worry you, when you’re so busy.’ His mouth twisted. ‘In fact, I’m not sure Carole knows everything. Charlie doesn’t want her fussing.’
‘She might want to fuss. What kind of check-ups?’ Dad had looked a little tired at her birthday lunch, but not ill. Thinner than normal, maybe. Michelle tried to think back for any clues, guilt washing through her for not realising something was wrong. ‘Is it his asthma?’
‘No, they think it’s just stress. He’s still doing six days a week at the dealership. Too much for a chap his age, but you know what he’s like, Shelley. We can’t keep him away. Checking for fingerprints on the cars, moving in to poach sales where he can, the old bugger. You were the only salesperson he didn’t pinch clients from. And that was only because he didn’t dare get between you and a sale.’
Harvey spoke with real affection for her dad and Michelle smiled back, caught off guard by the flashes of good nature he sometimes showed.
‘Mind you, none of us dared,’ he added. ‘And it had nothing to do with you being the boss’s daughter.’
‘So that’s why you married me,’ she joked. ‘Protecting your sales target.’
‘That was definitely a factor. That and the key to the executive bathroom.’
He paused, suddenly looking crestfallen, and Michelle paused too. Crestfallen wasn’t a natural state for him; it didn’t sit well with his confident suit and manner. Harvey wasn’t completely evil. Maybe she was being touchy. That happened when you were on your own.
Or it could be the third glass of wine she’d started.
‘You’ll let me know . . . if there’s anything I should know,’ she said. ‘About Dad? I know he tells you things he doesn’t tell Mum about the business. He’d never tell me he was ill. It’s like a badge of honour with him, never a day off sick.’
‘Sometimes it’s easier when you’re not related,’ said Harvey. ‘Your brothers . . .’
‘Don’t start me on them.’ Michelle rolled her eyes. ‘Well, apart from Owen.’
‘He’s not going to be a car dealer though, is he?’ said Harvey. ‘I’ve never met a bloke with less spatial awareness. I hope you haven’t put him on your insurance?’
‘I haven’t,’ said Michelle. ‘I need my car for work.’
‘What are you driving now?’ Harvey sipped his water and looked at her over the top of the glass, his blue eyes fixed attentively on her, as if she was the most fascinating thing in the room.
‘Golf.’ She wasn’t going to go into details, but couldn’t help adding, ‘FSI engine.’
‘Ah, the turbo/supercharger combo. Interesting.’ He nodded. ‘Economical, yet punchy in the lower range, with that extra kick of turbo at the upper range. You haven’t run into problems with turbo lag at all?’
‘It isn’t interesting, Harvey,’ Michelle interrupted, before he went off on a lecture about modern engine technology. She tried not to be amused at his expression of surprise when she stopped him. ‘Only to car saddos.’
He raised a hand solemnly. ‘That’s me. Guilty as charged. And women who know the difference between a turbo and a supercharger are super-hot in my book.’
The compliment resonated inside her even though it was worse than cheesy. It was so long since anyone had flirted with her; she usually nipped anything like that in the bud. Harvey, though, ignored any warning signs.
Michelle put her glass down. She was already feeling vulnerable. Stupid, she told herself. Stupid for still finding him . . .
She didn’t let her brain finish the sentence, even in her head.
‘Can I tell you something in confidence?’ Harvey said softly.
‘As long as it’s nothing personal.’ Michelle knew her voice sounded brittle. She gripped the stem of her wine glass.
‘Your dad floated a business proposal by me,’ said Harvey. He lined up his cutlery, fussily arranging the tines of the fork at the same level as the knife blade. ‘Your brothers aren’t interested in the dealerships.’
It was a fact. ‘No,’ said Michelle.
‘And he’s very keen to keep it in the family. You can understand that.’
‘I can. But no. I don’t want to run a car dealership – if that’s your next question.’
Harvey looked up. ‘You’re the best salesperson he’s employed in the past twenty-five years, and I include myself in that, Shelley. I think it would make your dad very happy if you and I could take over the business from him. A gradual handover, say, over the course of a few years.’
‘You and I?’ she repeated.
Harvey nodded. ‘You and me. We’re a good team. You know we are. We could double the profits. And it would mean your dad could relax into retirement, look after himself a bit.’
Michelle felt ill and her mind raced. Harvey’s twisty Machiavellian ways were so hard to unpick. What did he want? Her or the business? Had he manipulated her dad to make this offer, so she’d come back? Or was it just the money he was after, and he needed her by his side to do it?
‘And your mum could stop worrying about you,’ he added, failing to read her expression. ‘You know she’d love us to put this behind us and get on with giving her some more grandchildren. As would I, if you want to know.’ He winked at her, his face all cosy teddy-bear affability. ‘Come on, Shelley. We’re grown-ups. You can admit when you’ve made a mistake, right? You’ve had your time out to spread your wings. The shop’s nice enough but it’s not giving you the same opportunities as a dealership network would. Come home.’
Michelle suddenly saw it all: Harvey in her dad’s office, in an even more expensive suit, ordering everyone around; her back at home in a pinny, being nagged to lose the baby weight ‘because I hate to see you let yourself go’.
‘And where would I fit into this?’ she asked, her voice tight. Testing him out. ‘Co-director? Co-owner?’
Harvey’s smile faltered. ‘Are you negotiating? Same old Shelley, eh?’
‘Not same old Shelley,’ said Michelle. ‘New Michelle.’
She licked her lips, dredging up all her self-control. This wasn’t the moment she’d planned to do it, but she had to do it now, while she felt this surge of outrage.
‘Was that what all the flowers were about, getting me to come back, so you could get your hands on Dad’s business?’ she demanded. ‘And the dog at the rescue? That was a low blow, Harvey. You adopted a dog, when you know how much I miss Flash?’
As usual, he pretended that she’d deliberately misread him. ‘You’re talking about Flash? I wanted you to come back because you’re my wife and I love you!’ he retorted angrily. ‘And because I care about your family – who, by the way, worry about your mental health, the way you act. Jesus, you’re unbelievable.’
Michelle stared at him; he was breathing through his nose like a bull.
A little voice in her head had whispered that from the start – that a man like Harvey, handsome and successful, could only have been interested in someone like her because of her family. Not because of who she was.
‘I think it’s time we drew a line,’ she said, in someone else’s
voice. ‘I’d like to get a divorce under way.’
‘What?’ The affability left his face and was replaced by amazement. Cold amazement.
‘I’m not coming back, Harvey. It’s time we faced that, while we’re still young enough to start again with people we suit better.’ Her mouth had gone dry.
‘Are you shagging someone else?’
‘No!’ She recoiled at the coarseness of his tone after his earlier gentleness.
He leaned forward and hissed, ‘Because you’re still my wife.’
‘You keep saying that.’ Michelle felt the old fear return, but she made herself keep talking. In this restaurant, she was the local. There were no waiters ready to ignore any awkward behaviour from ‘good old Harvey’ who tipped so generously every time he sent his wife’s plate back before she had time to finish. ‘I haven’t been your wife for years. There’s no shame in divorce. It just means we’ve grown apart. It happens. No one’s fault. We were too young.’
She wanted to add, ‘Well, I was,’ but didn’t dare.
Harvey looked away, as if he couldn’t bear to see her face, and she wondered if she’d gone too far and hurt him; but then he turned back and said nastily, ‘If you’re imagining that men will be queueing round the block to date you, then think again. Decent men, I mean. Men who care about what sort of woman they’re with.’
Michelle flinched.
‘Have you thought about that?’ he went on. ‘Having to fill them in about your past history? Because you’ll have to. You’ll have to go through all that again, all the details.’
‘I won’t. It’s irrelevant. It’s nothing to do with who I am now.’ She knew her voice was wobbling and she dug her nails into her palms.
‘Ah, but it’s not.’ Harvey put his hands together, gloating now he’d regained control of the situation. ‘Women are like cars, Michelle. They’ve got a service history that men want to have a look at before they buy. Neat stamps, everything checked out. Nice and clean. Who wants some old banger that’s been round the block? Been in some backstreet garage?’