CORAL - Forever (A Romance Trilogy, Book 3) (23 page)

“Thanks,” I squeak, even though I'm feeling self-conscious
about my legs.

“What?” He questions, picking up on it.

“Isn’t there anything I can keep to myself?” I whisper
feeling embarrassed. I quickly glance across at Edith who’s busy cleaning up
the kitchen.

Tristan opens his mouth to question me, but his mobile rings
in his pocket, effectively putting a stop to that conversation – thank god!
Pulling it out and pressing answer, he puts the phone to his ear. “Tristan Freeman?”
He smiles down at me and mouths ‘later’
Hmph!

I narrow my eyes at him. I guess I haven’t got away with it.

“Ok.....send it over Mark, I’ll go take a look....yep, and
Claire?....Good, no that’ll be fine.” Tristan hangs up. “Sorry baby, gotta just
take a look at one thing then we can go,” he says smiling broadly at me.

“Ok,” I squeak, my grin reflecting his.

He seems in a much better mood, as am I –
Must be the
sex!

Tristan heads off towards his office and I sit back, relax
and enjoy my cappuccino...

“HE
DID WHAT!?” I HEAR TRISTAN BELLOW
from his office. Edith and I both stop
and stare at one another. I wonder what that’s all about? Moments later,
Tristan comes marching out of his office shaking his head in anger and disgust,
I think?.

“Un-fucking believable,” he hisses to himself. “Complete
incompetence!”

“What’s wrong?” I ask. Tristan halts and looks up at me. I
don't think he expected to see me still sitting here.

“N-nothing!” He says frowning deeply.

“Tristan haven’t you worked it out yet?” I laugh.

“Worked what out?” He asks, frowning at me.

“That you always say ‘nothing’ when it’s got something to do
with me, so I instantly know you’re holding something back. What happened to
talking to one another, to trust, to honesty?” Tristan opens his mouth several
times, shifting from one foot to the other. I stand, walk over to him, take
both his hands in mine and smile up at him. “When are you going to learn that
I’m a lot stronger than I look?”

“I know you’re strong,” he says.

“Then have a little faith,” I softly say.

“It’s not that baby,” he says, gently stroking my cheek.

“Tristan,” I close my eyes and take a deep breath. “You have
to stop doing this.” He sighs heavily, nods once and stares at the floor.

“I thought, as I was in the office, I’d call the Psychiatric
establishment your mother was in, so we could arrange the collection. I wanted
to know if Stuart could do it.” He suddenly stops, his face winces as though
he’s in pain.

“And?” I prompt.

“You...your...” He runs a hand through his hair. “Your father
collected her belongings. If you want to bury her ashes, we’ll need to contact
him to get them back! They won't give me his number as I'm not related; you’ll
have to ask for it.” He adds, bristling with tension.

Am I dreaming? Did he really just say that?

I release Tristan’s hand, reach up and pinch myself –
Nope,
not dreaming!

I stare up at Tristan. I have no words.

“Coral?” He asks gently. “Talk to me baby.” My mouth opens
to say something, but nothing comes out.
Why would he...?

“How would he know she was dead, he hasn’t’ – “Apparently
they never divorced.” Tristan interrupts, shaking his head in wonder.

“What?” I tremble.

Tristan shakes his head in disbelief again. “I know, hard to
believe, but the fact is, he was informed of her death the same day as you, and
when you didn’t immediately come forward for her belongings’ – “I thought you
had spoken to them?” I manage to squeak.

“I had,” Tristan growls in annoyance. “They assured me her
belongings were there for you, which they were, but your father turned up
Friday morning, took them with him.”

My world starts to tilt and sway. “I...I don't understand,
why would he do that?” I whisper.

“I don't know baby.” Tristan says his voice a soft tune
against the ringing going on in my ears.

“Tristan,” I whisper. “I think I’m gonna’ – The moment I say
it, I am up in his arms and he’s carrying me over to the sofa.

“Deep breaths baby,” he soothes.

“Ok,” I murmur trying to do so.

“Would you like some water?” He asks gently placing me down.

I shake my head at him. “You have to get them back Tristan.”

“Oh I will,” he assures me in a forceful tone.

“Thank you,” I breathe.

“Coral, do...do you want to talk to your father’ – “Never,”
I spit. “He left me Tristan
and
my Mom. I guess he has his reasons for
splitting with her, but where did that leave me? He left and he never came
back, he abandoned me – he didn’t give a fuck about me and I don't give a fuck
about him. I just want my Mom’s stuff back!” I rant, feeling really pissed at
my father.

“I’ll sort it.” Tristan says in his authoritative tone.

“I know.” I say, because I believe him, he will.

“So you’re sure, if he asks about you?’ – “Tell him I told
him to go fuck himself!” I hiss.

We both sit quietly for a while. I can't believe my father’s
done that, I am so mad with him. Why can't something just be easy and simple
for once? I just wanted to get my Mom’s stuff back, lay her to rest and get on
with my life –
Right!

“Can I have the number please?” I ask.

“You want to do this now?” Tristan asks, looking slightly
alarmed.

“Yes. I just want to get it sorted Tristan. I want to lay my
Mom to rest and get on with my life. I'm so tired of the past hanging over my
head like a big black cloud.”

Tristan nods. “I understand baby.” He leans forward and
kisses my forehead. “I’ll go get the number.” A few moments later, Tristan
returns and kneels down in front of me. “I have them on the line, you just have
to confirm who you are and they will give you
his
details,” he says, his
voice low. I hold my hand out, Tristan places his mobile in my hand and a pen
and writing pad in the other –
Ok, here goes!

“This is Coral Stevens.” I snap. The woman on the line asks
me a few security questions, apologises several times, then gives me
his
number.
I scratch it down in a hurry, my writing is so scrawny from shaking so much.

I hang up, and in a moment of pure clarity, I realise I do
want to speak to my father. I want him to know how pissed I am at him for doing
this.

I start punching the number into Tristan’s mobile.

“Coral, what are you’ – “I changed my mind,” I growl,
feeling utterly incensed that he would do this. Tristan briefly closes his
eyes. I put his mobile to my ear, and wait for the line to be answered. It’s a
home line so I don't know
who’s
going to answer, which is making me more
nervous. My leg is in full jigging mode and I’m biting my bottom lip.

“Hello?” A woman answers.

“Put Gavin Foster on the phone,” I spit.

“Who is this?” She asks, her voice sharp.

“His long lost daughter,” I drawl sarcastically.

“Oh...” I hear her calling for him, my heart is trying to
jump out of my chest, and I can feel a cold sweat coming on.

“Coral?” Oh...hearing his voice – I remember it, I recognise
it –
The bastard!

“Why have you taken my mother’s belongings and her ashes?” I
snap.

“I...I didn’t think you would have’ – “I want them back!” I
spit.

“Oh...” I can hear the sadness in his voice. “It’s a bit
late for that baby girl’ – “Don't you dare call me that,” I growl.

He sighs heavily down the line. “I buried your mother’s
ashes at the local cemetery, you’re too late darling,” he softly says.

“You what!?” I bellow, my heart really thrumming now,
literally trying to claw it’s way up my throat.

“I'm so sorry Coral’ – “Fuck you and your god damn
apologies!” I bark. Tristan’s eyes briefly close again then he takes my free
hand and grips it tightly. “Where have you buried her?” I ask, sniffing
slightly.

“In Wells Cemetary in Somerset, do you want the plot
number?” He softly asks.

“Yes.” I snap.

“It’s number 512, Coral I'm still in Shepton Mallet if you
want to see me’ – “See you?” I choke. “Are you joking?” I laugh sarcastically –
What is this guy on?

“No...I...I’d love to see you, make it up to you, tell you
how’ – I pass the phone to Tristan.

“I can't talk to him, can you tell him to send her
belonging’s to me...Oh, but I don't want him to know where I live’ – “Don't
worry darling I’ll sort it,” he says.

I stand and start pacing the room, but stop when I turn
around and look up at the three framed photos of Tristan and his folks that are
hanging up on the wall behind the sofa. I soften a little seeing their smiling
faces and sit back down.

“Mr Foster?...Tristan Freeman speaking, Coral’s husband....yes
she’s married. She is extremely upset right now, and has asked me to speak on
her behalf......I’m afraid that won’t be possible. I'm presuming from the
conversation I’ve just heard that you have already buried her mother’s
ashes?....I see, well Coral would like her mother’s personal items sent to her,
I'm presuming you have no need for them?” He asks, a little dryly.

“Yes...I see, no you haven’t got a prayer....Mr Foster if
she doesn’t want to see you then that’s it, I respect my wife’s wishes. Now,
this is the address I’d like you to send them to.” Tristan gives him his
company address in Birmingham.

“Address it to Claire James she’s my P.A....no....as soon as
possible. I will pass that on, but I doubt it will make any difference. Goodbye
Mr Foster.” Tristan hangs up then makes another call. “Good morning
Claire......Fine thank you. Claire, a package will be arriving from Somerset, I
don't have time to explain right now, but as soon as you receive it I want it
couriered same day to my home address in Brighton....yes please.....thank you
Claire....She’s getting there, thank you for asking.....I will, take care.”
Tristan hangs up. “Claire says hi, and she hopes you’re feeling better soon.”

I nod despondently at Tristan. “What did he say?” I ask,
squeezing my eyes shut.

“You really want to know?” Tristan softly asks.

“Yes,” I whisper, although I'm not sure I do.

“He wants to see you.” I nod once, I thought that’s what
Tristan would say.

“I don't want to see him.” I say, my voice trembling on me.
I open my eyes and look up at my wonderful husband – to be!

“I know baby.” He softly says, kneeling in front of me
again.

“Thank you for doing that.” I say, reaching up and stroking
his cheek.

“You don't need to thank me Coral, it’s not something I can
really say ‘you’re welcome’ for?”

“You can,” I whisper. “If you weren’t here, I'm not sure if
I would have got that sorted so...so calmly....and efficiently.”

“Then you are welcome my love.”

I look up at Tristan and smile. “Good idea saying you’re my
husband, and having it sent to Birmingham, at least that will throw him off the
scent if he tries to find me.”

“That’s what I thought,” he says, smiling sorrowfully at me.
“Is this the address for the cemetery?” I nod once. “We can still plant a tree
for her baby,” he adds.

“I know,” I whisper, staring down at the floor.

I feel his fingertips lift my chin. “Coral, did you want to
stay in today?”

“No, I don't want this day ruined because of him.” I take a
deep breath, close my eyes and try to get back to how I was feeling ten minutes
ago – Happy, playful...in love. I push all thoughts of my asshole father to the
back of my mind. I am not happy he has buried her so far away, but maybe if I
bury something that was just mine and my moms, like the photograph, and then
plant the tree, it will be like...well like it’s our tree, a place just for us.

Although, there is still a part of me that doesn’t understand
why I am doing this, why I feel so compelled to bury her, to have her near me? After-all,
she failed me so badly, I have spent most of my adult life despising her,
wishing she was dead; and now she is...I swallow hard and fight against the
tears –
No, not today! No tears today!

I open my eyes, smile at Tristan then yank him by the shirt
and crush his lips to mine.

“Let’s go have some fun,” I say.

“You’re sure?” he murmurs against my lips, taking both my
hands in his.

“Yes,” I whisper. He groans and kisses me back, forcefully,
we are all tongues and touch and low moans –
Ok maybe I should take him back
upstairs?

“If you carry on kissing me like that, I'm taking you
upstairs,” I whisper against his lips.

He smiles against my lips. “Right, yes...” he says still a
little side tracked. I can’t help smiling goofily at him. He leans down once
more, and pecks me sweetly on the lips, then holds his hand out for me. “Let’s
go then.” He says.

I place my hand in his, pick up my over the shoulder bag,
and place it over my head. “Should you be wearing that?” He asks standing
beside me.

“It’s on my good shoulder, it doesn’t hurt and besides, I
feel weird without a bag...” I muse, as I slip my feet into my open wedges.

“Ok,” he smiles and leans down to peck me on the lips. “You’re
sure you’re ok?” he asks again.

I nod, place my hand in his and Tristan leads us towards the
front door. I glance up at the framed painting of the E-type that’s been hung
in the entrance hallway....

Hmm, I want to buy something for Tristan to say thank you.
He’s been so good with me, so sweet. I lift my locket from my neck and squeeze
the heart in my hand...
Yes, very sweet
....Hopefully, I’ll find some
inspiration while we are out.

Tristan opens the door to the big Jaguar and helps me
inside, I smile at Stuart. For some unknown reason Tristan didn’t want to drive
today? Either way, I can't help feeling buoyant despite what’s happened.
Tristan and I seem to be really getting along again, both happier, more
relaxed, plus it’s a beautiful, hot sunny day today.
Hmm blue skies and
sunshine, I wish England was like this all the time.