For a Tuesday afternoon, the club is heaving. I wander through the reception area, nodding to people as I go. They all seem surprised to see me. Or are they wondering where Ava is?
I’m just heading upstairs when Sam calls. ‘Hey,’ I answer.
‘Sleeping pills. Where can I get them?’ He sounds urgent.
I smile, hearing the exhaustion in his voice. ‘Do I look like the local dealer?’ John spots me halfway up the stairs, surprise on his face, too, before pulling an about-turn and flanking me on my way up. I point to my phone and mouth ‘Sam,’ making John grin a shit-eating grin. ‘Knocking yourself out isn’t a good idea when there’s a baby around.’
‘Fucking hell, I’ve never been so tired. I’m walking dead. And Kate’s turned into a demon woman.’
I remember those days not too fondly, though we had two to deal with. I don’t point that out. Sam wouldn’t appreciate it. Instead, I do something any decent mate would do. After all, a bit of practice and refreshing my skills would probably do me well, plus Ava will relish in it, I’m sure. ‘Hey, how’d you think Kate would feel about letting us have Betty for the night so you two can catch up on some sleep?’
‘Argh, mate, you’d do that?’ He sounds perkier, just like that, just with the promise of some downtime. ‘She’d be fine.’
‘Hadn’t you ought to ask her first?’ I ask, remembering that first time we left the twins to have a date night. Ava was fine, mind you. It was me who was fretting. I reach the top of the stairs with John, breaking onto the gym floor. I point to Ava’s office and he nods, holding a finger up to indicate he’ll be there in a tick.
‘Trust me, she’ll be fine,’ Sam assures me. ‘And if she isn’t, then I’ll come and stay with you.’
I laugh, pushing my way into Ava’s office. I find Cherry sitting in Ava’s chair, and my laughter fades. She looks all wrong. There’s only one woman who belongs in that chair. ‘Speak to Kate and get back to me.’
‘We’ll be there at seven pronto,’ he counters, hanging up.
‘Oh, hi.’ Cherry beams at me, looking past my shoulder. ‘No Ava?’
‘No Ava,’ I confirm, heading for my wife’s desk. I scan the surface, noting many things out of place. The pen pot is on the wrong side, the mouse mat is different, and the in-and-out trays are all askew. Perfectly neat, but still askew. Ava didn’t have them like that, pushed neatly into the back corner. Not that my wife will know that.
‘Can I get you a drink?’ Cherry gets up, tapping a pile of papers on the edge of the desk to tidy them.
‘A water, thanks.’ I drop into the now-vacant chair and scan the room while Cherry makes her quiet exit. It feels empty. Lacking life. I rest back and wedge my elbow into the arm, drumming my fingers on my cheek, thoughtful. And I smile. A new baby.
‘What are you grinning at?’ John asks, stalking towards the desk. It occurs to me in this moment that one of my oldest friends is in the dark over the past few days’ revelations.
‘I’m going to be a dad.’ I sound stable, and I’m proud of myself for it.
‘You’re already a dad, you stupid motherfucker.’ He drops into the chair opposite me. ‘I thought Ava was the one who lost her memory.’
Had anyone else said that, I would have beaten them black and blue. But this is John. He’d beat me black and blue. ‘Again,’ I add. ‘I’m going to be a dad again.’
The white of his eyes expand. ‘What?’
‘Ava’s pregnant.’
I see the laughter bubbling up from his toes and wait for it to work its way to his mouth and shake the whole damn club. But he doesn’t laugh. Somehow, he contains it, though I see his amusement plain as day. ‘Was it planned?’
I chuck a pen across the desk at him. ‘Stupid fucking question, John. What sane fifty-year-old bloke would volunteer for that, for fuck’s sake?’
His huge shoulders jump up casually. ‘I would have, had the opportunity passed me by.’
That shuts me up. And makes me shrink. I’ve never asked John about his past, and he’s never volunteered it. Something inside me, maybe caution, just warned me not to. I’ve often wondered if he’d wanted children if he found the right woman. And he’s just answered that. I shouldn’t be surprised. He’s great with the twins, always has been. Like an adopted pap, in a way. ‘Was there ever a Mrs John?’ I ask him.
He smiles his big white-toothed smile with his signature hint of gold. ‘What’s taken you so long to ask, boy?’
I inwardly laugh. ‘Maybe the hostile vibes I get any time I’ve ever even thought to pry.’
‘There was one woman once upon a time.’ He shrugs, like it’s nothing. It most certainly isn’t nothing.
I lean forward in my chair, intrigued. ‘Really? Who?’
He eyes me for a few moments, clearly wondering whether he should spill. ‘It doesn’t matter now. It’s dead. History.’ Clearly he’s decided against it.
I sigh, mentally plotting my advances, how I can coax the information from him. ‘Before I knew you?’
His glare is deadly. ‘Drop it.’
‘What if I don’t?’
‘Face the consequences.’
‘Which are what?’
‘Rein it in, you relentless motherfucker,’ he warns, the threat in his tone no joke, but something tells me that he really wants to share. Yet I do as I’m told, even if my mind is spinning, rewinding through the years, all the way back to when my uncle took me under his wing. John was there then, my uncle’s best friend. In fact, he’s always just been . . . there. I hum to myself, racking my brain. I know her. That’s why he’s being cagey and reluctant.
I flick through all the women who used to frequent The Manor on a regular basis as we stare at each other, for what seems like years, his eyes dark, mine curious. And then he draws breath to speak. ‘Falling in love with your best mate’s girl isn’t ideal.’ His eyes don’t move from mine.
His best mate’s girl? Uncle Carmichael was his best . . .
Realisation slams into me like a giant wrecking ball to my gut. ‘Sarah?’ I blurt, my heart taking the second shock of the day, except this one is no sick prank. He nods his confirmation. Fuck me. Sarah?
How has he kept that hidden all this time? ‘John, I don’t know what to say.’ He watched it all, close by, Sarah, me, and Uncle Carmichael, the wretched love triangle and all the tragedy that went with it. And the years that followed, Sarah constantly pining for me, going to epic lengths to try to win me. How did he do that? Face it? Endure it?
‘Say nothing and move on,’ he warns, obviously watching my mind go into overdrive.
All this time he’s been in love with Sarah? And I never knew? Never saw it? ‘How can you love someone who’s so destructive?’ I ask, baffled.
He looks at me like I’m stupid. ‘Ask your wife.’
I wilt where I sit, going over and over the years, searching for any clues that I missed. Now, I realise there were millions. His calmness with her. His occasional attempts to defend her actions. His anger when she lost the plot all those times. He wasn’t entirely mad with her for what she was doing to me. But what she was doing to herself, too.
‘You can’t help someone who doesn’t want to be helped,’ he says, strangely reminiscent. ‘You wanted to be helped.’
‘Shit, John,’ I breathe, throwing my hands up a little. Then something comes to me. She’s staying with him, has been for weeks. ‘Why would you set yourself up like that, and what the hell does Elsie think? Wait, what does Sarah think? Does she know how you feel?’
‘How I felt. And no, she didn’t and doesn’t. Neither did your uncle. You think I wanted to add to the fuck-up that was you, her and him? And I stopped loving her when she stopped loving herself. And the reason she’s staying with me is because she can do me less damage than she can do you.’
‘I—’
‘You’ll keep this to yourself.’ John’s tone is as threatening as threatening can be as he gets up from his seat. ‘It’s history.’
‘Of course.’ He doesn’t need to tell me twice. ‘What about Sarah? How long is she staying with you?’
‘Until she’s back on her feet.’
The man is a saint in disguise. ‘And what about Elsie?’
‘She has some holistic therapy shit she wants to try on Sarah.’ He looks back, rolling his eyes. ‘Who knows? Might straighten her out.’
The door closes behind him, and I sit there alone in the silent room for a long time, trying to get to grips with this news. The truth is, I can’t. No matter how long I try to wrap my mind around it. So many years to be assessed, too many occasions in history to be analysed to find what I’m looking for. I won’t find anything. John did too good a job of hiding his feelings from Sarah and the rest of the world. He’s put himself at the bottom of the pile every time. It isn’t right. Pulling out my phone, I find the number I blocked, unblock it, and dial, and the moment I hear her voice, my skin prickles and I’m out of my chair, pacing the office.
‘You need to leave town, Sarah,’ I say bluntly.
‘Jesse?’
‘Yes. You need to leave.’
There’s a pause, and then a sigh. ‘How’s Ava?’
‘I didn’t call you to chit-chat about my wife. I called you to tell you to leave town.’
‘I can’t go anywhere, Jesse. I’m broke.’
My feet drag to a stop as I recall John telling me the same thing. She has nowhere to go. Nowhere to stay. So she’s putting on John, and John will never say no. ‘Send me your account details,’ I order. ‘I’ll transfer some money, and then you leave. Do you hear me?’ John’s waited decades to meet a woman. Now he’s met one, and I’m not having this poisonous bitch ruining what could be his happy-ever-after. ‘Do you hear me?’
‘I hear you,’ she whispers, her lack of argument maddening. Because she’s that selfish. She doesn’t care about John. Or me. She cares about herself.
‘I’ll do it now. Send me your details.’ I hang up, and in the two paces it takes me to get back to Ava’s desk to log on to my banking, her details land on my phone. I laugh a disbelieving laugh. She didn’t waste time. A few clicks sends a clean hundred grand her way. We didn’t talk numbers, but I want her to have enough to ensure she’ll never have to come back. Resting back in my chair, I stare at the screen as I kiss goodbye to the best money I’ve ever spent.
My phone buzzes on the desk, and I glance down to see two missed calls from Ava. Heart in my throat, I go to dial her back but notice a voicemail alert.
I click the icon and bring my mobile to my ear to listen to her message. ‘I’ve tried calling you twice and you’re ignoring me,’ she says. ‘I’m still with Zara. I’ve had a lovely time! We popped to a store and bought her a new dress for a date she has tonight. We couldn’t find shoes, but I have the perfect pair, so we’re going to pick up the kids and head back. She’s driving, so don’t panic. I’ll meet you at home.’
My knee-jerk reaction is to call her back and put her straight on a few things. But, somehow, I stop myself. I breathe in and relax in my chair, closing my eyes. She’s checked in. She’s fine, and she’s picking up the kids. I should let her do that. I must let her do that. She needs to do that. I’m just forcing myself to put my phone away when someone walks in – Cherry with my water. Took her long enough.
She smiles, all bright and willing, as she paces towards me, a definite, deliberate sway to her hips. And if I’m not mistaken, she’s undone an extra button on her shirt since she left to fetch my water. My suspicious eyes follow her all the way to the foot of Ava’s desk, where she perches her arse on the side, crossing one leg over the other. ‘Anything else?’ she practically purrs.
I sigh. Time to put her in her place. ‘Cherry,’ I begin, and she smiles brighter, her eyes dropping down my torso. ‘Let me explain something to you.’
‘Umm-hmmm,’ she hums, starting to nibble her bottom lip.
‘If my wife catches you looking at me like that, you’ll be choking on your high heels.’
My words seem to have zero impact, her eyes crawling up my front until she’s gazing at me. ‘And what about if you catch me looking at you like this?’
I’m staggered by her boldness. ‘I just did.’
‘And?’
I lean forward, resting my elbows on the desk. Her eyes sparkle more at my closeness. ‘And I think you’re brave,’ I answer, voice low. ‘You’re also stupid.’
She shrugs. ‘No one gets what they want by being reserved.’
‘You’re fired.’
Her eyes widen. ‘What?’
‘I said, you’re fired.’ I smile, a blazing smile, one that would knock her to her arse if she wasn’t already there from shock.
‘You can’t fire me,’ she spits indignantly.
I laugh, sitting back in my chair. ‘You just disrespected my wife, who also happens to be your boss. You think I’d forgo her for you?’ I chuckle, the sound wicked. ‘Let me give you a bit of advice to take on your way.’
She slips down from the desk, rejection making her cheeks red, but not with anger, more embarrassment. ‘What?’
‘If you wanted to learn how to be sexy and seductive, you should have spent more time admiring my wife rather than me. Goodbye.’
Outrage. It’s splashed all over her face. ‘But you owned The Manor.’
I look at her like she’s stupid, because she fucking is. ‘Leave,’ I all but growl before I flip my lid. Wisely, she takes note of my anger, quickly stomping to the door. Her parting gift is a filthy glare tossed over her shoulder before she slams the door with brute force.
Stupid woman.
My phone rings again, and I quickly snatch it up and answer as I stand and head for the door. ‘Hey, baby.’ I’m expecting high praise for leaving her to do her girlie stuff and not calling her back.
‘What the hell are you playing at, Ward?’
I stop halfway across the office, racking my brain for what I could have done. I resort to asking, since I’m fucking clueless. ‘What did I do?’
‘You didn’t call me back! All I keep getting is your voicemail!’ She’s wild, frantic, and I grin the biggest grin.
‘Aww, baby, you worried about me?’ Welcome to my world, lady.
‘A bit,’ she sniffs down the line. I can’t help the deep satisfaction.
‘My phone must have dropped its service,’ I tell her, carrying on my way. I’m thinking it’s probably not wise to tell her that I was on the phone to Sarah.
‘Where are you?’
‘At the club.’ I hear her bristling at the mention of me being here, alone, without her. I put her mind at rest. ‘I just fired Cherry.’
‘What? Why? Oh my God, did she make a pass at you? The sneaky little bitch!’
‘Well, you know. Your husband is a god among men. I can’t blame her.’
‘You’re intolerable.’
‘And I love you, too. Where are you?’
‘At home now. I’ve just seen Zara out, and the kids are on the trampoline.’
‘I’m on my way.’ I hang up and jog to my car, feeling like it’s been years instead of hours since I’ve seen them.