After the Honeymoon (17 page)

But from the look on her face, she didn’t understand. ‘You want necklace?’ she repeated, and somehow Emma found herself buying one, even though she didn’t particularly want it, just because of the baby. Still, maybe Mum would like it.

When she got back, Emma noticed that the cottage next door had its front door open. That was a first. Glancing up, she saw a young woman sitting on the balcony with her face up to the sun. French, someone had said. Rather chic in those black shades. Emma gave her a little wave but the woman didn’t respond, which made her feel a bit silly.

Some people liked to keep themselves to themselves, she supposed. Like Tom. To be honest, she’d felt pretty hurt this morning when her new husband had said he felt a bit better but didn’t want to go out into the heat.
You
go, he had told her, so she had, but it wasn’t the same. Honeymoons were meant to be for two people. Not one. Still, it wasn’t his fault he was ill.

‘Are you OK?’ she said softly, putting her head round the door.

Tom was sitting against the pillow, eyes closed, headphones on and nodding as if in time to the silent tune. So he was well enough to listen to music! Emma felt a wave of irritation as she dropped a kiss on top of his head. He jumped.

‘You startled me.’

‘Sorry. There’s no need to snap.’

‘I’m not snapping.’

What had got into him? Maybe the heat was affecting him more than she’d realised. ‘How’s the rash?’

‘Still there.’ He was scratching.

‘So you don’t want to come outside then?’

‘And make it worse?’

‘No, but it doesn’t seem much fun if you’re going to stay here all day.’

‘I can’t help that, can I?’

It was as though someone had given her a different husband. She’d never known Tom to be like this before. ‘Do you think you’ll feel well enough to come up to the villa for dinner tonight?’

Languidly, Tom made to put his headphones on again. ‘I don’t know. I’ll see.’

‘Fine.’ Emma heard the words snap out of her mouth. ‘Then I might go for a walk on my own. OK?’

Crossly, she strode out of the cottage and down to the beach. This was weird! Usually she had so much to do that there wasn’t time to think. There was always someone who wanted her.

But now, with her husband like this and the children far away, she just had herself. How often had she yearned for a bit of peace and quiet? But now she had it, she didn’t know what to do with it. She felt useless.

As she gazed out at the sea, it seemed impossible that Willow and Gawain were so far away; that they weren’t just round the corner at nursery or Mum’s house. Seeing the baby just now had got her all upset again.

Unable to stop herself, she rang Mum’s number. ‘Just me. Is everything OK?’

‘You on the phone again? If you keep calling, love, you won’t give the kids a chance to settle. I told you before. They’re fine. Gawain slept right through the night.’

Really? But he didn’t do that for her. Instead of being pleased, Emma felt slightly resentful that her mum had succeeded in doing something she hadn’t been able to.

‘All I had to do was let him grizzle for a bit. Doesn’t do to pander to their every need.’

‘Can I talk to them?’

‘Best not, love. They’re both glued to this DVD. Bernie brought it over with some of her home-made flapjacks.’

That didn’t sound good. Either the DVD or the sugary flapjacks.

‘Tom any better?’ Mum cut in.

Emma decided not to go into too much detail. It would only give Mum a chance to have another go at him. ‘Getting there, thanks.’ Swiftly, she glanced around to check no one was listening. ‘By the way. You know Winston King, the bloke who does the morning exercises on telly?’

‘’Course I do. Why?’

It was so tempting to say he was here! Emma paused, her pulse quickening in her throat. ‘I just wondered. Has he got married?’

‘Funny you should say that! Bernie was jabbering on about it. Then it was in my paper. Turns out he’s got hitched to one of the mums from school. He’s going to live right near us, he is. Well, at the posh end anyway. Gone to the Maldives, according to the paper.’ Her mother, who was always a sucker for celebrities, hardly paused for breath. ‘Why do you ask?’

‘I … I just wondered.’

‘Well, you must have had a reason.’

The Maldives? Now it was beginning to make sense! They’d just have said that to get some privacy. But she, Emma Walker, was one of the few people who knew the truth. It gave her a superior glow inside. ‘Look, Mum, I’ve got to go.’ She crossed her fingers. ‘Tom’s calling for me. I’ll ring tomorrow.’ Turning off the phone, she strode back along the beach past the cottage where the French woman had been sunbathing.

Except that her neighbour wasn’t doing that now. She was leaning nonchalantly against the balcony. Right next to her was the man.

Both totally naked.

As if oblivious to her presence, the bloke was spinning the woman round so her back was facing him. Then she got down on all fours as if about to do one of Winston’s exercises. The man remained standing. Emma tried to look away but she couldn’t. Oh my God! Surely they couldn’t really be doing
that
, right here, in full view of everyone else?

Giving a little gasp, she hurried on, although she couldn’t stop herself from looking back. The two bodies had merged as one now; it was like an acrobatic show for adults only. Emma’s eyes widened. How on earth did the bloke manage
that
, while still standing up? Was that really what everyone else did when they made love?

A vision of Tom on top of her, quietly pumping away with a little gasp at the end, came into her head. Which was more normal? That display on the balcony or the blink-and-you’ll-miss-it in their own bed?

Sex wasn’t the kind of thing she talked about to friends, although she suspected Bernie might have a few views.

‘You’ll never guess,’ she began excitedly as she went back into the room. But Tom was asleep again, headphones on the sheet next to him, humming merrily away into the silence.

Emma sat down on the edge of the bed, feeling empty inside. This was their honeymoon! It should be Tom and her making wild, passionate love. Not some French couple next door.

‘Are you all right, Tom?’ she said, gently.

Nothing. Just a loud snore.

Emma stood up and looked down on her new husband. Tom had never, as her mother had declared on more than one occasion, been much of a looker. But from this angle, with his mouth open and the snores and that red rash, he seemed particularly unattractive.

Of course, looks weren’t everything. But there was a great deal to be said for giving someone attention. At home, most of that was lavished on the children.

But now they weren’t here.

And apart from the kids, Emma was beginning to wonder what else she and Tom had in common. Maybe losing her ring had been a horrible omen …

Sixty per cent of brides on honeymoon ring their mothers at least once. Ten per cent of grooms do the same.

Survey from a bridal magazine

WINSTON

‘I think she’s recognised us,’ said Winston, worriedly massaging oil into his new wife’s shoulders. The action felt reassuringly intimate; at least, it would have done, if Alice wasn’t shooting him filthy looks as though he had no right to touch her mother like that.

‘Who?’ asked Melissa, leaning back into his chest, eyes shut; unaware of her daughter’s hostile expression.

‘Emma. The plump woman.’

‘Winston!’ She opened her eyes in shock. ‘You shouldn’t say things like that.’

‘Yeah, Winston. You shouldn’t.’ Alice scowled. ‘Some people can’t help being podgy. It’s their DNA. Everyone’s different. Of all people, you ought to understand that.’

Was she alluding to his skin colour? Hah! If so, she’d soon learn that it would take more than that to rattle him. ‘The point is,’ he continued, ignoring Alice, ‘that I think your new friend knows who we are. She’s been giving me some really funny looks.’

Melissa moved away and, seemingly aware now of her daughter’s disapproval, adjusted her top self-consciously. Having those kids here made him feel as though he and their mother were a pair of teenagers, trying not to get caught. ‘It’s all right. I had a word with her. Don’t look so worried, I’m sure she won’t tell anyone. She’s really sweet.’

He almost choked. ‘You told her who I was?’

‘Not exactly. I just said I’d rather she didn’t mention we were here to anyone. She lives in Corrywood. Such a coincidence!’

This was getting worse. Of course the woman would have put two and two together. She was probably ringing up
OK
or
Hello!
or
Charisma
magazine right now.

Swiftly, Winston tried to think damage limitation. If Emma had blown their cover, there was nothing he could do about it. After all, it was Melissa who had been worried about publicity when he’d proposed. She’d wanted the children to have a normal life, or so she said.

For himself, Winston was used to the fact there was a price to be paid for fame. Yet at the back of his mind, all the time, there was always the fear that the rat pack might dig up the one thing he didn’t want anyone else to know. Including Melissa.

Meanwhile, he was still mad about last night. ‘Haven’t you got something else to do?’ he said, glaring at Alice, who was watching them like a Victorian chaperone.

‘Winston!’ protested Melissa, frowning. ‘She’s entitled to sunbathe, isn’t she?’

‘It’s not as though there’s anything else to do,’ scowled Alice. ‘When Dad used to take us away, there was always a proper teenage club. Not some hole like this place.’

‘Then don’t bother staying,’ he retorted.

‘Winston!’

Melissa’s furious face forced him to mutter an apology. Maybe he
had
been a bit sharp, but they were all a bit twitchy still after last night. When Melissa had woken him to say that Alice and Jack still weren’t back, he’d reluctantly gone out to look for them. It had been pitch-black out there; if he hadn’t had his special head torch, he might never have found them. In fact, they were only a mile or so down the lane, walking back up to the hotel and pushing the kid’s bike, which had broken down.

Frankly, he was just relieved he’d found them safe and sound. But Melissa didn’t view it that way. Instead of seeing the bright side (the kids were in one piece, weren’t they?), she was almost hysterical when they’d all trooped back. ‘You know you’re not allowed on a motorbike,’ she’d wept. ‘Your father and I always made that quite clear.’

Then she’d turned to him. ‘Aren’t you going to say anything?’

So he’d torn a strip off the boy, because that’s what Melissa seemed to expect, although deep down he felt quite sorry for him. He seemed quite nice and genuinely remorseful for having got his stepdaughter back late. After all, a snapped cable could happen to anyone.

Winston had said as much to Melissa when they’d finally got to bed, but she’d accused him of not understanding because he didn’t have children. Somehow it all escalated into a bit of a row which, thankfully, had ended with some pretty passionate make-up sex.

Today – amazingly – Melissa seemed to have forgotten that it was her daughter who had broken the motorbike rule. Instead, she was giving poor old Jack the cold shoulder, which wasn’t very fair. She’d also (despite the make-up sex) gone back to being cool with him too, as though this had somehow all been his fault.

Well, excuse me for being here on my own honeymoon, he almost wanted to say. Couldn’t Melissa see that the little monkey was twisting her round her little finger?

‘Why didn’t you tell Emma that you weren’t going to do the yoga any more after what Jack did?’ asked Melissa, referring to Winston’s all-too-hasty promise last night in an attempt to appease his wife.

Winston shrugged, watching her move away from him to the sun chair next to her daughter, as though trying to put as much distance as possible between them. He hadn’t realised until the honeymoon just how stubborn his new wife could be. ‘Because I’m still thinking about it. I know you’re cross with the boy, but he didn’t mean any harm.’

Alice shot him a reluctantly grateful look.

‘And besides, your new friend is looking forward to the class,’ he added. ‘It would be a shame to disappoint her.’

Melissa nodded thoughtfully. ‘I was thinking exactly the same myself. And maybe you
are
right about Jack. He seems quite a sweet lad.’

That was more like his wife; the one he had met three months ago. A real softie, although every now and then he glimpsed a flash of defiance underneath.

Just like Nick.

‘In fact,’ said Winston, leaping to his feet, ‘I thought I’d go and find Jack now. Sort out a few things.’

Alice looked alarmed.

‘About the yoga. I need to check my emails too, and the reception’s better up there. See you later, OK?’

It was so good to get some time on his own. Every time he spoke now, he was waiting for his stepdaughter to jump down his throat. Melissa was different too when her kids were around – not so affectionate with him, only interested in her children. She also, like her daughter, kept referring to previous holidays, stirring him into jealousy. ‘Remember the Seychelles where we went scuba diving with Daddy?’ she’d said to Freddie only that morning, forgetting – or so it appeared – that her previous husband had behaved appallingly. In fact, her tone had been decidedly wistful.

Not for the first time, Winston began to feel a tremor of misgiving. Had he jumped in here a bit too soon? When Melissa had first told him about her kids, he’d wanted to look after them too, make up for the pain they’d been through.

What he hadn’t realised was that they still seemed to love their father. Instead, he, Winston, who hadn’t done anything wrong, was the enemy.

Now, however, he had a plan. It was quite simple really. Befriend the enemy. Fool them into thinking that you’re onside.

In other words, do something that would make Alice like him. All he needed to do was find … ah. There she was.

‘Mrs Harrison?’

The small, slim woman scattering corn to the chickens swivelled round. There was something about her heart-shaped face, framed with wispy bits of blond hair, which seemed vaguely familiar.