Love You Better (25 page)

24.

E
ffie looked at Oliver through the kitchen window. Seeing him in a plain T-shirt, shorts and boat shoes, she could almost imagine that things were normal, and he was
chilling
out in the garden, waiting for her to join him. In a parallel universe,
that wa
s probably what was happening. She took a gulp of water and headed outside. It was crunch time.

She pulled her lounger away from his and sat cross-legged. ‘How did you get in?’

‘The door was on the latch.’ He had the good grace to look sheepish. ‘I hope you don’t mind. I had to take advantage of it.
I had
to see you.’

His skin had tanned since she’d last seen him, and he looked good. He looked how he had on Koh Tao, beautifully bronzed. But she’d since learned that looks didn’t mean anything. He rested his elbows on his knees and crossed his arms.

‘You look great,’ he said, looking her over.

She had no makeup on, and she was wearing a pair of old shorts and a T-shirt. She’d looked way more glamorous than this.

‘What were you expecting?’ she asked. ‘An emaciated mess?’

Oliver shook his head. ‘Not at all. You’re strong. I’m not
surprised
you’re doing so well.’

Effie shrugged. All her life, she’d had to be resilient and flexible. This was just another in a long line of tests life had thrown her way. She reached down and picked a blade of grass from the ground.

‘What do you want?’ she asked, looking down at it and slowly tearing it in half.

‘I miss you.’

‘I already know that. You’ve told me a billion times.’

‘But I haven’t actually
told
you. Not face-to-face. I felt like I had to give it one more try. Just one last shot.’ He looked down at his hands. ‘I had to.’

‘Why? I told you, it’s over.’

He looked back up at her. ‘I can’t accept that.’

Effie shook her head and looked away. Why couldn’t he just leave her alone? Why did he have to show her this side of his
personality
, the sincere, repentant side, after showing her the parts of him that were as destructive as an atom bomb?

‘I can’t live without you, Effie.’

‘You seem to be doing alright so far.’ And he did. He looked well. He didn’t look undernourished or anguished.

He laughed shortly. ‘You couldn’t be more wrong. This last month has been like living half a life. I’ve swayed from wanting to bombard you with texts and calls to telling myself to let you go, but I can’t. I know it’s the right thing to do, to see you happy. But I can’t stay away from you.’

It sounded like he was confused too, just like she was, torn between wanting to keep a hold on the life they’d started together, and doing what was best. How were they even
in
this situation? How did a guy like Oliver, someone who’d been raised to be a gentleman, with every opportunity anyone could ever wish for, be apologising to his wife for hitting her?

The image of his face, twisted with rage, filled her head. She saw the blurry movement of his leg as his foot connected with her stomach over and over again and the way his spit angrily hit her cheek, burning like fire. She gulped and closed her eyes. What the hell should she say? The Oliver she’d seen that night wasn’t her
Oliver
. He wasn’t
Olly
– the man who spoke like Prince Harry and who had charmed his way into her life. The man she’d seen that night was someone else, a total stranger.

‘You have no idea how you’ve turned my life around. It’s as if I was just drifting along before I met you, and then – boom. Everything made sense.’ He picked at his nails. ‘I’d never felt like that before. I’d never had a moment of clarity like that before, and I know you felt it too.’

When he looked back at her, his eyes were filled with tears, but he blinked them away, which was just as well. She’d been holding her breath while he spoke, and she didn’t think she could cope with seeing him cry.

‘I knew, right then, what I wanted. I had a house and I had my job, but I hadn’t realised how empty I’d felt until you. You made me want to
live
. To think about really settling down, getting married, having kids.’ He paused to rub his eyes. ‘I’m still doing that anger management course.’

Effie nodded and cleared her throat. ‘That’s good.’

‘I didn’t realise how angry I really was. How screwed up
I wa
s. The whole thing with Dad’s affair affected me more
than I
really understood, and I let it spill over into us. The things we argued about . . .’ He shook his head. ‘I tried to control you, insulted you. I
hurt
you. And I never wanted to do that. I only ever wanted to take care of you, and instead I used all of your hurts to manipulate you.’

She drew her knees up to her chest as if they could guard her heart. His apology was so heartfelt that she could already feel the barriers that had come up since the night she’d thrown him out beginning to come down. She tightened her arms around her knees.

‘And what I said about Lou . . . it was out of order. The whole thing was utterly unforgiveable, but I know why I did what I did now. And now that I know, I can control it. I can work through it. I have to. I don’t want to be that person anymore.’

‘What do you want me to say, Olly? You can’t just come in here and apologise and expect everything to be okay again.’

‘I know.’ He nodded. ‘I’m taking responsibility for what I did. All I ever wanted was for you to be happy, and I’ve had to come to terms with the idea that it might not be me who can do that. But if it is . . . if it ever was . . . I really want to try again.’

Effie sucked in her breath. He sounded so honest, so true, so sincere. What if he really
had
changed? What if they could get back to how they used to be?

‘I get that it’s a huge, huge ask, and I know I’ve probably killed any trust you had in me, but I had to try. You’ve changed my life in so many ways. Even now, you’re fixing me without even kno
wing it.’

His voice broke, and when the tears finally fell from his eyes, it was all Effie could do not to lean across the gap between the loungers and hug him. It was an automatic response because, even after everything he’d done – the things he’d said, the physical pain he’d caused – she couldn’t bear to see him cry. She kept her hands where they were, refusing to give in.

‘You’re magical and amazing, and I love you.’

Her barriers started to crash to the ground, one by one. She thought back over the past month. She’d felt like she was finally coming out of a shell she hadn’t even known she’d been under.
It h
ad been scary and liberating at the same time. She’d operated at her own pace, in her own rhythm, and other people had noticed it too. She thought about what Smith had said, about her being like the sun. She’d half dismissed it at the time, but nobody had ever said anything like that about her before.

‘Olly . . .’ She shook her head and rubbed her eyes.

‘You’re my whole life. Please. Just give me one last chance,
just one.
’

‘I think . . .’ She looked at him, at his trembling chin and watery eyes, and her stomach flipped over. ‘I think you should go.’

‘Effie . . .’

‘Please, Olly. Just go.’

25.

T
here were two simple, but non-negotiable rules:

1. He had to continue his anger management course.
   
2. She could spend as much time away from him with her friends as she wanted, no questions asked.
   

‘One 99 Flake and chocolate sauce.’ Oliver handed her the cone filled with ice cream and sat next to her on the bench. The obvious rule of
no violence
was clearly implied.

When Effie had stood in front of him at the altar on their wedding day, he’d smiled at her – a smile of pure, complete happiness and love. He had that same smile on his face now.

She took the ice cream and returned his smile. ‘Thanks.’

In all the time they’d lived in Clapham, they’d only been to the Common once before, a few days after she’d moved in. On a beautiful, crisp autumn day, they’d wandered around, wrapped up in thick, woolly scarves and gloves as they held hands, kicking
up th
e crunchy rust-coloured leaves scattered on the ground. The smell of burnt wood had floated in the freezing air, and Oliver’s nose had felt cold against hers when they’d kissed. They’d returned home to a sumptuous roast dinner. It was one of those perfect long days when every moment had created new memories.

‘What do you want to do tonight?’ Oliver asked.

Effie shrugged. ‘The cinema, maybe?’

‘Good idea. We haven’t been to The Picturehouse before, and there are some nice restaurants nearby too. I’ll book us a table, if you want.’

Effie licked her ice cream and nodded. It was Oliver who’d
suggested
they have at least one night a week where they did something together. A
date night
. She’d cringed when she’d realised that’s what it was, but she hadn’t wanted to say no. It wasn’t like she had a problem with the principle; it was just that it sounded so forced. It reminded her of when Oliver had insisted they
try
for a baby.

She looked at him eating his ice cream. He was being so nice that, on the surface, she couldn’t find fault with him. After he’d
gatecrashed
the garden party and she’d sent him away, he’d called round again a few days later to collect more clothes. He hadn’t
tried t
o reason with her or begged for another chance. Instead, he’d quietly headed straight upstairs to pack, and Effie had sat on the sofa as he moved around the house, realising that she was counting down the seconds to when he would leave again. Only, it wasn’t because she wanted him to go. It was because she’d wanted him to stay.

She hadn’t been able to ignore his sincerity when he’d explained himself out in the garden. It was as if she’d seen a side to him she’d forgotten about. She’d seen Olly, the
real
Olly. He’d laid himself bare, stripped away his ego and put himself on the line. He’d explained that his anger and the battle to control it was like a disease. He had to work to control his anger in the same way an alcoholic or a gambler had to work to control the lure of their addiction. It could be fixed. There were men who’d moved on from being abusive to developing loving relationships, and there was no reason he couldn’t be one of them, at least, that’s what she’d told Lou.

She’d urged Effie not to take him back, not to fall for his spiel, and she’d even come round to try to talk her out of it, but Effie’s stubborn streak had stood its ground. She couldn’t turn her back on him. For better, for worse – she hadn’t said those vows for fun.
He nee
ded her help, and she didn’t want to be questioned about her motives for taking him back – not yet. Despite him being a picture-perfect husband since his return, there was a part of her that was still on red alert, and she didn’t want to be reminded of the possibility of it all blowing up in her face.

‘Maybe we could tackle the garden when we get back?’ Oliver said. ‘It’s starting to look like a jungle.’

It wasn’t. With its decking and super manicured lawn, it looked like something from the pages of a home and garden magazine. It was one of the things she loved about the house the most.

‘It’s too hot to be gardening,’ Effie replied.

She leaned back against the bench and stretched her legs out, watching a mother and daughter walk past with a Dalmatian on a lead.

Oliver leaned back too and bit into his cone. ‘That’s true. It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?’ He looked at her. ‘You’ve got chocolate sauce on your chin.’

‘Bloody stuff gets everywhere.’ She laughed and wiped it away with the back of her hand.

‘Like rice?’ Oliver grinned.

‘Yeah.’ She nodded, smiling, remembering their wedding day and how they’d clung to each other on the dance floor. ‘Like rice.’

‘You know, I was thinking. Maybe we should look at flights to Corsica soon. I haven’t seen Mum since the wedding, and it might do us some good to get away from it all.’

She’d been so excited when he’d suggested it on her birthday, but now she wasn’t so sure. Celeste Barton-Cole was razor sharp. Effie would bet money that she’d pick up on the underlying tension between her son and daughter-in-law, and the fact that they weren’t sleeping in the same bed wouldn’t help. Effie would either have to face questions about why or give in and take the step she was still reluctant to take. She might have taken him back, but it was conditional, and she wasn’t ready to be that close to him again yet.

‘What do you think?’

Effie puffed the air out in her cheeks. ‘I don’t know. It would be nice to get away, like you say, but it might be a bit too soon.’

Oliver looked away and nodded, his jaws twitching as he clenched them together.

‘Maybe in a few months?’ Effie added.

‘I guess you’re right.’ He looked back at her. ‘It’s just difficult, you know. I don’t want to crowd you and make you feel under pressure, but I want you to see how serious I am about making
this wo
rk.’

‘I know. But the best way of doing that is to let me take things at my own pace.’

‘Things are better, though, aren’t they? I mean, I know it’s early days and everything, but it feels right, doesn’t it?’

Effie looked away from his hopeful, cornflower-blue eyes. ‘It’s just going to take time.’

‘They told me that, at the classes. It’s really been amazing. It’s made me see myself in a whole new light. Crazy how something that happened half my lifetime ago could have had such a profound effect, isn’t it?’

‘It sure is.’ Effie nodded. She could understand that. She was still feeling the effects of her mum leaving, even now. ‘You know, I just realised. We were both fifteen when our family shit hit the fan.’

Oliver raised his eyebrows. ‘That’s right. It’s such a pivotal age too. It’s a surprise we’ve turned out to be as normal as we have.’

Effie laughed with a hint of irony. Normal was about as far away as it could possibly get. ‘I’ve never known what
normal
is like.’

‘I thought I did,’ he replied, draping an arm over the back of the bench and lightly stroking her arm. ‘I thought it meant just dealing with it, working, dating, going through the motions. Now I know I was just burying it.’

‘These classes sound really good for you. Have you told Izzy?’

Oliver snorted. ‘God, no. She’s so together in comparison.
I ju
st want you to know that it doesn’t matter how long all this takes,’ he said, lightly brushing a strand of hair behind her ears. ‘It won’t
be e
asy, but even if it takes the next fifty years to prove it, you’ll see. From here on out, I’m going to be a better man.’

Cooking, cleaning, taking the wheelie bins out onto the street the night before collection day – Oliver did it all. If being a better man meant becoming the poster boy for the modern husband, he would have topped the list, and what was more, he did it all before Effie even had the chance to think about doing it herself. Later that evening, she looked at him as he came into the kitchen and washed his hands in the sink, having put the bins out.

‘You don’t have to do all the housework, you know,’ she said, careful not to sound ungrateful. ‘Don’t get me wrong – I’m not complaining. I just don’t think it’s fair for you to do all of it.’

‘I’m not. You’ve vacuumed the whole house, changed the beds, done the laundry, shopping and the cleaning this weekend.’ He dried his hands as he pointed out the chores Effie had completed on autopilot. ‘Anyway, it’s part of the programme I’ve been given.’

‘Cleaning is supposed to help with your anger?’ She raised an eyebrow.

‘It’s more that it’s a mundane task. It doesn’t take a lot of mental energy. I find it kind of therapeutic. I can think.’

‘Fair enough.’ She shrugged. ‘By the way, I’m not around for dinner tomorrow.’

‘Oh?’ He briefly looked at her before pulling some chicken from the fridge for dinner. ‘Going anywhere nice?’

He sounded like a hairdresser instead of her husband. It all seemed so formal, but at least he was sticking to the rules.

‘I’m meeting Izzy. She’s in town for a meeting, so I said we’d catch up. I haven’t seen her for ages.’

‘Oh, good. It’ll be nice for you two to spend some time together.’

‘Yeah.’ She nodded. ‘It will.’

He’d apologised for what he’d said about Lou, but Effie couldn’t help but wonder if his reaction would have been as placid had she said she was meeting with her friend instead. She’d watched his face for any hints of relief when she’d said she was meeting with Izzy, but he had a poker face that was second to none. Smith’s barbecue wasn’t far away, and Oliver most definitely wasn’t welcome. She’d find out if he’d make true on his promises soon enough.

When Izzy texted the address of the place they were to meet for dinner the next day, Effie had looked at the street name in the heart of the West End and assumed they’d be eating in a plush, high-end restaurant. After a long and frustrating day at work, she was looking forward to a bit of luxury, so when she stood outside their meeting place, she frowned, peering through the window. This couldn’t possibly be right. She double-checked the details in the text, and when she looked through the window again, she saw Izzy, sitting at a table, waving. Effie raised an eyebrow and stepped inside.

A man smiled at her from behind a glass counter holding raw diced chicken and lamb on skewers as he shaved strips from a lump of don
e
r meat. The smell of frying onions and bacon hung heavy in the air, and Effie excused herself, shimmying past two heavy-set men waiting for their food.

‘It’s so good to see you.’ Izzy stood and hugged her before
sliding
back into her chair. ‘Isn’t this place great?’

Effie looked around as she sat down. The chairs were screwed down into the floor, and there were only five tiny tables, three of which were occupied by men tucking into enormous fry-ups.

‘I always come here when I’m in the area,’ Izzy said. ‘Their
bubble
and squeak is to die for.’

It was the last thing Effie would have expected to come out of Izzy’s mouth. For one thing, she barely ever saw her eat anything, and when she did, it was always bland. The first time she’d gone to their house with Oliver, Izzy had grilled a chicken breast with no seasoning and steamed some vegetables. It was nutritious, but it had been like swallowing cardboard. She’d since discovered that it was Tom who did the cooking in their house.

‘Bubble and squeak?’

‘It’s my guilty pleasure.’ Izzy grinned. ‘There’s nothing like a bit of comfort food every now and then.’

Effie looked at the laminated menu. There was nothing remotely wholesome on the list at all. When was the last time she’d pigged out on junk food? Her mouth flooded with the anticipation of bacon, sausage, fried egg and mushrooms. When the waitress came to scribble down their order, she ordered without hesitation.

‘How did your meeting go?’

Izzy beamed a smile across the table. ‘Amazingly well. I’m not supposed to say anything to anyone yet, but, well, it looks like you’ll soon be able to buy my products in Selfridges.’

‘No way.’ Effie grinned and squeezed Izzy’s hand. ‘That’s
fantastic
news.’

‘I know. The pitch almost killed me, hence the reason why I need some comfort food, and there aren’t many people I could bring to a place like this.’

Effie wasn’t sure if it was a compliment or not, especially after what Izzy had said at the New Year’s Eve party about her not being typical Barton-Cole standard.

‘Seriously, you can’t breathe a word of my meeting to anyone. Not even Olly. I want to wait until it’s one hundred per cent
confirmed
.’

Effie nodded and crossed her heart. ‘I promise.’

It was funny how things were turning out. Oliver and Izzy were close, but it was Effie who was in the middle of them both, holding their secrets. Izzy had no idea about Oliver’s anger management classes or why he had to take them in the first place, and he had no idea about her breakthrough Selfridges deal.

‘How is my little brother? I’m so pleased you’ve worked things out.’ Izzy clasped her hands together and smiled.

‘It’s early days, but so far, so good. He’s trying really hard. He really seems to want to make it work.’