Come Back to Me

‘Sorry.’

‘No, don’t be… Okay, well, I suppose I can get a lift back with Iris. I’ll walk you to your car.’

They made their way out to the front of the house in silence. As Mark opened the driver’s door, Chloe said, ‘Mark?’

He turned and looked at her.

‘Us… this… is it… are we…?’ She didn’t seem to be able to add the final word.

‘No… I don’t know… Look, right now I just need to get a bit of space, get my act together, you know. But I’ll see you on Monday.’

‘Oh, okay. Right.’ She stood with her arms folded, and watched Mark get into the car, start the engine and drive away, all without looking at her.

Once he had gone she turned to walk back towards the party, but then sank down on the front step of the house and dissolved into tears. As she sat there she felt a pair of comforting arms around her, and heard Mikaela’s voice whispering in her ear.

‘They’re all idiots, babe, every single one of them.’

49

The flight was proving unendurable. Alex was caught up in a revolving succession of emotions – feeling fractious, irritated, enraged and upset by turn, leaving him unable to sleep, to eat, or to numb his mind with any of the entertainment on offer.

In the past twenty-four hours his anger had been cataclysmic, without an outlet of any kind, so much so that he wouldn’t have been surprised if he had worked himself up into spontaneous combustion.

He had been trying to do the right thing all bloody week. How had he got it so horribly wrong that she had wanted him to leave? And who did Ray think he was, treating Alex like some distant relative who had no place with them through all this, discarding his efforts, hogging Amy’s care, not even allowing Tess in. And Tess, so compliant, so understanding, so selfless and giving in the wake of everyone else’s struggle to cope with the fallout from this horrendous, vile event. And the doctors, deferring to Ray and Tess as soon as they arrived, when they had been filling him in for the first thirty-six hours, treating him as someone important, then simply ignoring him. And Detective Thompson, with his platitudes and his excuses for having absolutely no leads whatsoever. Alex hated the lot of them, although not with half as much vehemence as he’d reserved for Amy’s attackers.

He shifted miserably in his seat, aware of the space next to him – Amy’s space. They should have been coming back together today, excited about the next chapter. Now what was there to look forward to?

And yet… within the restlessness that pushed and poked at him, causing him to be unable to sit still, let alone sleep, there was something else nagging at him, worrying away like a dog with a bone, trying to break free. He wanted to ignore it, to remain stubbornly livid, but it was too persistent. It came at him again and again through the interminable hours as he sat and stared blankly at the small screen above his head.

A short time before he arrived at Heathrow, he finally couldn’t take it any more. He let the realisation descend on him. There was a distinct possibility that Amy had never wanted him to leave at all, that she had given him a get-out; she had made it easier for him to do what, secretly, he’d been wanting to do all along, ever since the moment he knew she’d been hurt. And, without comprehending what he was doing, he had taken the chance, and run away, without even thinking of what this meant for them long term. He had deserted her, and now all he wanted to do was to take it all back, to start again, and just to be there for her whether he got it right or wrong.

But he had an awful, gnawing feeling that ate away at him as the plane began to descend. It was the understanding that now he couldn’t go back. It was too late.

50

Mark’s heart was heavy as he headed back towards London through the drizzling gloom, peering hard through the windscreen at endless tail-lights, trying not to let tiredness overtake him too much.

Chloe didn’t deserve this. Whenever he thought of her he recalled her woebegone face of just a few hours ago. She’d been trying hard to talk to him all week, and he had been avoiding her, as he didn’t want to come right out with it.

Because Henry’s words had not stopped booming in his ears.

He had made his way home from Chloe’s the previous Sunday with a heavy heart, to a cataclysm of repercussions before he even had a chance to get changed out of his tux. Henry had collared him the moment he walked in the door, and then ranted and raved about his behaviour, shouting so loud that Mark’s mother had taken the dog on a long walk just to get away from them.

‘You will never be a great lawyer if you can behave like that…’

‘You have disgraced yourself, and the firm…’

‘You have made a laughing stock of me…’

‘You need to pull your socks up quick smart, my boy, or you’ll be out on your ear.’

At first Mark said, ‘It was one silly lapse in judgement, Dad, not the end of the world. Just one drink too many.’ But his father had continued.

‘Your work has been going downhill lately…’

‘Everyone has noticed. I’ve had to excuse you…’

‘You can’t keep up…’

‘This isn’t what we took you on for. Everyone has expectations of you…’

And then:

‘Ever since you and Chloe began this little affair…’

‘What?’ Mark was appalled. ‘I barely see Chloe at work, and she hardly forced the drink down me last night. It was my error.’ A brief image of Risto and Chloe dancing flashed before him and he grimaced.

‘I’ve seen you,’ Henry shouted. ‘Eating together in the office, always at each other’s door. It’s a distraction. It’s leading you down the wrong path.’

Mark was floundering in the unremitting torrent of antagonism coming from his father. ‘That’s ridiculous, Dad,’ he said without really thinking.

‘How dare you,’ Henry had replied, further incensed. ‘Let me tell you, Mark, you need to choose – Chloe or your career. You’re young, only just starting – there’s plenty of time for all that later. If you let yourself get distracted now, you’ll never make the top grade, never have a chance of going for the big jobs, never fulfil your potential – and all because of some little romance that probably won’t even last the distance.’

Mark couldn’t help himself. He began to listen. And Henry pressed on, with points about how it was best for both of them, Chloe too, as they could always pick things up later if they still felt the same. How Chloe didn’t seem that serious anyway – just look at the way she’d flirted with Risto last night, without even a care for Mark. How Chloe wasn’t right for Mark; he needed a stronger, less emotional woman. How Chloe’s work was suffering – the partners were voicing concerns – if she didn’t knuckle down, there might be serious repercussions for her too.

‘Finish it now,’ he urged. ‘Before either of you gets too involved.’

We’re already too involved, Mark had wanted to say at first, thinking of Chloe’s sweet sleeping form of just a few hours before. But the image had wavered in the face of his father’s onslaught, and by the time Henry had finished making his case, Mark had been utterly swayed. Only much later, too much later, would he look back at it as a supreme display of persuasive talent from the most wily of legal minds.

51