Page 45 of The Girlfriend

“T HIS IS PRECISELY THE REASON I’VE NOT YET MOVED BACK TO MY flat,” said Daniel as Laura produced a flaky chocolate croissant, warmed in the oven.

Truth was, he didn’t see a reason to move.

In fact, he was beginning to wonder why he’d even bothered with it in the first place.

Living at home was working out just fine, not because he got treated with breakfast every now and then, but he enjoyed the company.

Both he and his parents worked long hours and irregular shifts, so it was a bit of a lottery whom he saw when, but that meant they appreciated their time together more.

Always close to Laura, Daniel found he was getting to know his dad better too.

He and Howard had ended up in the den a few nights ago, with a couple of beers and a movie.

“It’s cold out,” said Laura. “You need an extra layer.” And it was. Autumn had started with a vengeance and the wind was hammering against the window, the trees nearly already stripped, even though it was still only the middle of September.

“I think that could just as well be a sweater,” said Daniel, wolfing down the croissant. “This is also bad for the arteries. You know I’m on the cardio ward, don’t you, Mum? Hardly a great example for the patients.”

“You’re the picture of health.” Laura beamed, squeezing his cheek. She just had time to flick through the paper before leaving for the office.

“So, what do you reckon?” said Daniel.

“About what?”

“Should we rent out the flat? I’ll just stay here?”

Laura put the paper down. “You know you’re always welcome, and I love seeing you the rare times you’re not at the hospital. But it’s up to you. I understand if you need your own space.”

“Will you get me chocolate croissants every day?”

“Nope.”

“Hmm . . . could be a deal breaker.”

Laura stood. “Hard luck. It’s time I left.”

Daniel leaned in confidentially. “What’s happening in this new series, then?”

“Can’t tell you.”

“ Can’t or won’t ?”

“Bit of both. I’m planning the finale this morning with the writer. And if I don’t leave now, I’ll be late.”

* * *

The wind blew her sideways as she crossed the road to her office and Laura laughed, a spirited, delighted laugh that was all the more noteworthy as laughter had been so scarce for so many long months.

It was a joy reacquainting herself with happiness, simple pleasures, and she never tired of reminding herself of the most beautiful, exhilarating fact that Daniel was okay.

She’d wake in the morning, or be picking some apples in the supermarket, or be supposedly concentrating in a preproduction meeting, and say it to herself and an explosion of fireworks would go off somewhere inside her.

He’d returned from France looking more or less his old self.

More important, he sounded like his old self, happy-go-lucky—and his ambition had returned.

If anything, it was stronger than before.

While he’d been away, he’d arranged his place back at the hospital for his Foundation year one.

He said he felt as if he’d been given a second chance.

Something had happened when she’d left him to come back to London; he’d struck up a friendship with a local woman who ran her parents’ business.

Laura had met her briefly one weekend when she was out there; Vivienne had stopped by and she and Daniel had gone out for a drink.

She was at least a decade older than he was, had the confidence that came with it and no time for self-pity.

He wasn’t one for wallowing, but her no-nonsense spirit had accelerated his recovery.

He’d come back tanned, relaxed, and somehow a bit tougher.

Laura buzzed herself into her building and walked up the stairs to where Willow sat outside her office. She was her new PA and eager to please.

“Your visitor is here,” she said. “I showed her into the meeting room.”

The writer was a little early, but that was fine. Laura was looking forward to the session; it was one of the most fun stages of developing a drama, making up the stories, and the writer was smart and imaginative. Laura went over to the meeting room and opened the door.

Cherry was sitting at the round glass table, flicking through a magazine.

“Hello, Laura.”

In a state of utter shock, Laura said nothing.

“I suspected it might be a bit of a surprise to see me, but not an unpleasant one.”

Panic overtook her and Laura quickly turned away and closed the door.

Why is she here? She took a moment to try to compose herself before turning back around.

Made her voice as calm as possible, even though her heart was racing.

“Hello, Cherry. I’m afraid you’ve caught me at a bit of a bad time.

I’ve got a meeting starting any minute now. ”

“Oh. Well, I’ll take that minute, if it’s all the same to you.” She didn’t wait for permission. “It just became very important to see you. Since we last spoke, when you called me just after Mexico with the news . . . Well, all these months have gone by, but I’ve had a hard time accepting it.”

Laura didn’t say anything. She still couldn’t work it all out.

Think, think. It had been, what, six, seven months?

Cherry’s hair was longer, which made her even more attractive, more sensual.

Laura knew she had to keep calm and then when her writer arrived—damn Willow for not knowing the difference—she’d just have to politely, but firmly, ask Cherry to leave.

“Despite what you may have thought, Daniel meant the world to me.” Cherry’s tone suddenly became harsh. “Why didn’t you ever call to make sure I was coping okay?”

“I . . . I’m sorry. I was just so caught up in my own . . . grief.”

“Yes, and I suppose you had the funeral to arrange as well. No, hold on, you did that when I was on holiday. Couldn’t wait. What day did he die, by the way? I’d really like to know where he’s buried, just so I can go and say good-bye.”

Laura was unnerved by the questions, coming without even a pause to hear answers. Cherry was watching her and Laura was grateful she’d already thought some of this through.

“I’m afraid it was a cremation. And we took the ashes to France, which he always loved.”

Cherry stared at her and Laura looked away. “I’m sorry, Cherry, but I really do have a meeting starting—”

“Just one more thing.”

Laura was beginning to feel impatient. Okay, so Cherry is probably grieving, but it’s taken her all this time to get upset about it?

“What is it?”

“If Daniel hadn’t died, would you have been happy for us to be together?”

Laura stalled, tried an affectionate, exasperated smile. “What kind of a question—”

“Oh, good. Because I always thought you’d do something to stop us.

It’s nice to know I was kind of a part of the family.

Even if you didn’t invite me to the funeral.

” Cherry stood. “Thank you, Laura. This has helped a great deal. I just needed some sort of closure. It all happened so suddenly and there was nothing concrete for me to see or visit. It just didn’t seem real, you know? ”

Feeling slightly sick, Laura nodded.

“I can see you’re busy, so I’ll be off.” Cherry stuck out her hand, and after a moment’s hesitation, Laura shook it.

Then Cherry turned and left the room. Feeling shaky, Laura clasped the side of the table, loosened her scarf.

She waited a minute or two to give Cherry time to leave the building; then she went back to Willow’s desk. There was no sign of her writer yet.

“If my ten o’clock arrives, please take her to the meeting room. I’ll be two minutes.”

Willow nodded, startled by her boss’s face, and decided it wasn’t the time to tell her that the previous guest had gone into her office first, before being told that wasn’t the meeting room.

Willow had caught her rifling through some papers on Laura’s desk.

“Oh, silly me,” Cherry had said, and then followed Willow to the large room next door.

* * *

Laura hurried back down the stairs. She’d pulled it off, but was still feeling shaken.

She needed a coffee fix, a strong one, and there was an Italian cafe right across the road whose double espressos she’d turned to in the dark days of Daniel’s illness to get her through the exhaustion.

She pressed the door release to get back out on the street and stepped onto the pavement.

Then she yelped with fright. Cherry was standing outside, leaning against the wall.

She smiled. “Well, you’ve saved me some time. I thought I was going to have to wait until you finished your day and I was just wondering what to do with myself.”

Laura stared at her, uncomprehending, her mind was already confused by Cherry’s sudden appearance, by her coming to the office.

Cherry leaned forward. “I know he’s alive,” she whispered.

Laura stammered, “What are you talking about?”

“What kind of mother are you, who would lie about her own child’s death?”

She felt the blood drain from her face. The self-loathing was creeping back in.

Cherry’s voice turned hard. “You tried to take everything away from me. I am going to do the same to you.”

Laura gaped. Cherry held her gaze for a moment; her eyes cold, unforgiving. Then, when she was sure the message had been understood, she turned and walked away.

Trembling, Laura watched her go. She tried to pass it off as a juvenile, silly threat.

But there was something in Cherry’s tone that had frightened her deeply.

She instinctively knew that no matter how hard she might try, she wouldn’t be able to dismiss it.

Laura would be waiting. Waiting and wondering what was going to happen.