Love You Better (26 page)

‘Well, of course he does.’ Izzy rolled her eyes. ‘He loves the bones of you. Honestly, he was devastated, moping around
the pla
ce.
I do
n’t think I could have dealt with it for much longer.’

‘Thank you,’ Effie said, although she wasn’t entirely sure what she was thanking her for.

‘Oh, it’s nothing.’ She waved a hand in front of her face. ‘He’s a pain sometimes, but he’s my brother. He knows he’s always welcome – you both are.’ Izzy looked over Effie’s shoulder and grinned. ‘Ooh, yes. Here it is.’

The waitress put their plates on the table, and Effie shook her head with a slightly stunned smile. Izzy’s bubble and squeak was piled high next to a portion of cold meat and Effie’s own plate held the biggest fry-up she’d ever seen.

‘Bon appétit,’ Izzy said and picked up her knife and fork. She took a mouthful and sighed, looking up at the ceiling. ‘Simply divine.’

It was all Effie could do not to laugh. With her super sharp suit, flawless hair and cut-glass accent, Izzy stuck out in the cafe like an inkblot on a white shirt.

‘So, what was it that made you change your mind?’ Izzy asked.

As far as Effie knew, Oliver hadn’t told his sister the real reason behind the rift in their marriage. She sliced into her sausage, skewered it with her fork and shrugged. ‘He came round and we talked. Or rather, he talked and I listened. I guess I just couldn’t give up on him. On us.’

She shrugged again, and Izzy nodded.

‘Marriage is for life,’ Izzy said. ‘Even after Mummy and Daddy divorced, they still tried to impress that on us. I think she’d suspected he cheated for a long time, but she let it slide until it got too much. After seeing how their divorce ripped the family apart, I decided I never wanted to be a divorcée, and I expect Olly is the same. Being married isn’t easy.’

Effie looked at Izzy as she loaded her fork, and wondered if she really did find it hard. As far as she could see, Izzy and Tom had the perfect life. They had great careers and a fabulous house, took multiple holidays a year and were more than financially stable.

‘I’d have thought it was easy for you. You and Tom seem to be in a permanent state of bliss,’ Effie said.

Izzy laughed. ‘God, no. Don’t get me wrong; we love each other, but sometimes he drives me insane. We’ve tried and failed to get pregnant, he’s got promotion after promotion and now he spends more time in the office than at home. My business has taken off better than I could ever have expected, and all my energy seems to go there right now instead of into my marriage.’ She shrugged with a smile. ‘There’s only so much a relationship can take before something has to give.’

‘Have you ever separated?’

‘Almost. For a long time I wondered if we were really right for each other. There was a year when we seemed to just argue
all
the time, but we made the choice to stay together. I definitely don’t subscribe to the thought that there’s only one person in the world for someone.
I thi
nk it’s more that you choose whoever is the right person at the time, and then you try to grow together. You either do, or you don’t.’

Effie slowly buttered her toast. If Izzy was right, then her conflicting feelings for Smith might make sense, but on the flipside, it could also mean that her doubts about Oliver were because
she’d made
the wrong choice in marrying him to begin with. She loaded her toast with beans and took a bite. The beans had been cooked rather than just heated up, and the tomato sauce was sweet and thick on her tongue.

‘Every couple argues, I guess,’ Effie said, ‘but you and Tom seem to have it figured out for the most part.’

‘We do now, but it took a while to get there.’ Izzy put her fork down. ‘I know what people think when they see Tom. He’s a little podgy around the edges, and he’s so absorbed in his work, he barely notices anything else, but what they
don’t
see is how dedicated he is. Give him a stable centre to come from, and he radiates it back. I’ve dated guys before who wouldn’t know stability if it hit them in the face. It’s a roller-coaster ride, for sure, but roller coasters have to come to a grinding halt at some point.’

Effie nodded. What could she say to that? For a second, she’d almost forgotten it was her sister-in-law she was talking to, but she couldn’t very well say that she understood the thrill of being with a guy who had the ability to turn the world upside down, someone who made stability look about as normal as a green sky.

‘For what it’s worth, I think you’re doing the right thing, taking Olly back,’ Izzy continued, ‘and I’m not just saying that because he’s my brother. If you can’t work through the bad stuff, then what’s the point? You just have to ask yourself if you love Olly.
Really
love him. Strip away everything you associate with him – his job, his family, his social status – everything. If you love him for who he is, the raw essence of him, then you’ll be fine.’

Effie frowned as Izzy tucked into her bubble and squeak. She’d never thought about loving the
raw essence
of someone. She wasn’t even entirely sure what it meant. She knew she loved Oliver; otherwise, she’d never have married him, but she’d never really stopped to try to break it down to such a detailed level before.

‘Are you happy, though?’ Effie asked.

Izzy nodded and waited to swallow her food before answering, ‘Definitely. Sometimes you have to adjust what your expectations of happiness are, that’s all.’

Adjust her expectations of happiness? Why did that sound like such a massive compromise?

‘And right now, bubble and squeak is the very definition of happiness.’

26.

E
s
sence:
The intrinsic nature or indispensable quality of something which determines its character. Origin: from Latin, essential, from
esse
, ‘to be’.

Effie turned the definition she’d read online over and over in her head as she walked up the road to Smith’s parents’ house. Since she’d met Izzy for dinner, she’d thought of little else. It was like she’d given her a Rubik’s cube containing the secret to the meaning of life, and just like the infamous game, it was frustrating the hell out of her. It was making her question
why
she loved Oliver.

Whenever she’d thought about it before, any number of reasons had come to mind. He was good looking, charming, well brought up, wealthy, secure and successful. He’d represented everything she wasn’t and everything she’d thought she wanted, but little by little, the veneer had started to slip, and now she didn’t know how much of what she thought she knew was real and how much was what she’d wanted to see.

The charm that had made her dizzy at the beginning was the same charm he’d shown when he’d talked her round to giving him one more chance. She didn’t doubt his sincerity, but it was much easier to swallow when he knew how to pull at her heartstrings. He might have been well brought up, but he still hadn’t been sheltered from the fallout of family drama – a fallout that had triggered deep-seated issues. There was no doubt that he was successful – he was one of the most sought after barristers in London. But he wasn’t wealthy; his family was. The material security the Barton-Cole name had given her had meant nothing when it came down to it. It hadn’t protected her from him. The more she’d tried to think about whether she loved Oliver’s
essence
, the more she questioned if she even knew what it was.

A drop of rain hit her bare shoulder, and she frowned, looking up at the sky. The morning clouds had lingered through to the afternoon, and they were looking greyer by the minute. Smith’s flat only had a small balcony, so he was having his birthday barbecue at his parents’ house instead. Their garden was beautiful and mature after years of nurturing, and Effie felt a stir in the depths of her stomach. She’d stayed there countless times at the end of nights out with Smith, sharing a bed and longing for him to make a move, until the night he finally did. She looked at the house a few doors up the street. When would this ever end? Why did her mind always revert to Smith when she should be thinking about her husband and their fragile future together instead?

The front door was open, and as she walked up the tiny path, she dug her nails into her palms to steel herself against the stir that was turning into butterflies with every step she took. To say she wasn’t looking forward to this party was an understatement. Despite being jealous of Smith, Oliver had merely nodded when she told him she was going, and although she knew it couldn’t have been easy for him, she was pleased he was sticking to his word about not questioning her time with her friends. Still, there was a huge part of her that didn’t want to go. Not only was she about to surround herself with people who despised Oliver, but she also had to do it while questioning herself about why she was with him in the first place. As soon as she walked through the door, she saw Smith’s mum, Yvette, coming down the stairs, with her hair in rollers.

‘There she is,’ Yvette said, holding her arms out to give Effie a hug. ‘How are you? It’s been a long time.’

‘It has,’ Effie replied, folding herself into Yvette’s arms. Her hugs were legendary, and she’d always welcomed Effie with open arms when she used to visit. ‘I’m good, thanks. How are you?’

‘Good. Great, in fact.’ Yvette linked her arm through Effie’s and led her through to the kitchen. ‘It’s been so lovely having James back, and we all know how much of a turnaround that is.’

She winked and Effie grinned. It was Yvette who’d told Smith in no uncertain terms that he had to leave when everything had gone wrong. He’d been laid up in his hospital bed, and she hadn’t given him a choice. Effie had sunk low into the hard, plastic chair,
trying
to make herself invisible. It had turned out to be the best thing Yvette could’ve done if the way he’d been since his return was
anything
to go by. Effie couldn’t imagine what it must’ve taken for her to say those words to her son, but Yvette was clearly savvy enough to know that he had to either disappear or die.

Effie watched her friends through the kitchen window as they sat in the garden chatting. Mickey and Smith manned the barbecue, and she looked at Smith as he flipped a burger over, laughing at something Mickey had said. There was no sign of Lou, but it was hardly surprising. She was always late for everything.

‘We had to put the gazebo up. I’ve no idea why James insisted on a barbecue when the forecast predicted rain.’ Yvette tutted.

Effie laughed. ‘You know him. He never takes the easy route.’

‘God only knows where he got that from.’ The grin on Yvette’s face told Effie that it was no secret that he’d got it from her. ‘And how are you, my lovely? James tells me you got married?’

‘Yep. Seven months now.’ Effie nodded.

‘Congratulations. I’m so pleased for you.’

She did seem genuinely happy, judging by her smile, but she’d always said what a good couple Effie and Smith had made. Of course, she hadn’t seen the crushing heartache Effie had felt when she’d heard that he’d hooked up with someone else, and as far as Yvette knew, their relationship had been a normal one – boyfriend and girlfriend, not girlfriend and non-committal man.

‘Where’s Dermot?’ Effie asked, looking out to the garden again for Smith’s dad.

‘Supermarket. I think it’s fair to say James vastly underestimated the amount of food you generally need for a barbecue,
especially
with the amount of alcohol he’s bought.’ Yvette shook her head. ‘Right, you go and have fun, and I’m sure I’ll see you later when we get back.’

‘You’re not staying?’

‘Oh, heavens no. We wouldn’t want to cramp James’s style. I’m off to take these rollers out and get beautified. We’re meeting up with friends for dinner, so we’ll leave you young ones to it.’ She kissed Effie on the cheek. ‘Have a lovely time.’

Effie stayed in the kitchen when Yvette went back upstairs, and looked out of the window again. They were her best friends, but she felt like turning around and slipping out unnoticed. She turned and looked at the fridge, covered with letters and memos stuck to the door with magnets. On the wall next to it was a cork noticeboard covered with photos. She smiled at a strip of pictures taken of Yvette and Dermot in a photo booth, the pleated burnt-orange curtain bright against them in the background. The first photo showed them grinning into the camera, the second showed them kissing and the third showed them laughing. They looked young, no older than their early twenties. Sean, Smith’s older brother, was thirty, and Smith had told her they’d got
married
before he was born.

Thirty-odd years. That was a long time to be with someone, and when Effie had said her vows, she’d promised to be with
Oliver
for life, but now? She was sure Izzy had intended to help, but instead, all she’d done was inadvertently burrow the seed of doubt even deeper into Effie’s mind.

She looked at a photo of Smith, sitting in a high chair with chocolate smeared around his mouth. Even as a toddler, he’d had a mass of brown curls, and his grey eyes looked bigger than ever. Next to his photo was one of Brendan, the middle son who’d died two years before Smith had been born.

‘It’ll be twenty-seven years this September.’

Effie turned at the sound of Smith’s voice. ‘Brendan?’

Smith nodded, and she turned back to look at the photo of his brother, sleeping in his incubator. It was grainy and faded at the edges with age. He’d been born prematurely, with a heart defect.

‘I try to imagine what he’d be like,’ Smith said. ‘I reckon he’d have been super cool. Middle kids always are, aren’t they?’

He stood with his head right next to hers, and she turned a little to look at him as he studied the photo. A light coating of stubble coated his jaw. He smelled of charcoal and summertime, and Eff
ie wan
ted to sink into him and soak it in. Instead, she looked back at the photo.

‘Yeah,’ she agreed. ‘He probably would have been.’

‘So.’ He looked down at her and stuffed his hands into his jeans pockets. ‘How’s things?’

Effie nodded and looked back at him. ‘They’re good. One step at a time, you know?’

He nodded back, but his face told a different story. It displayed the very reason why she’d been nervous about today. The look in his eyes made it clear he thought she’d made a mistake in taking
Oliver
back, and that was without him knowing the real reason they’d separated in the first place.

‘Oh, of course. Happy birthday.’ Effie smiled as she handed him the small bag.

‘Cheers.’ He took the book from the bag. ‘Aw, Eff, I’ve got this already.’

‘I know – I remember. Look inside.’

He opened it, and the awkward, apologetic look on his face gave way to a grin. ‘No way. A signed copy?’

He ran his fingers over the page and shook his head.
Into the Wild
was his favourite book, and the copy he had was tattered
with ag
e.

‘Man, that’s . . .’ He looked back at her and shook his head again. ‘It’s probably the best present I’ve ever had.’

Effie grinned and shrugged. ‘It’s nothing.’

But it
was
something. She’d wanted to get him something personal, something that would somehow convey her gratitude for what he’d done while she was separated from Oliver. It was Smith who had looked after her when she’d fainted, cooked her dinner and made her feel safe enough to stay in the house on her own. She owed him, and she wanted to pay him back. He hugged her, his strong arms around her neck, and she inhaled his summertime scent. She also hoped the gift was a token of an apology. Nothing had actually happened between them, but she couldn’t deny that they’d got closer in those few weeks. She couldn’t shake the sense that he felt let down now that she’d taken Oliver back.

Smith rested his chin on the top of her head and squeezed her. ‘Thank you.’

Maybe today wouldn’t be so bad after all.

Every so often, the garden would be transformed from a sunny
little
haven to a chamber of mental torture. When the sun was out, everyone would spread themselves across the garden, but as soon as the clouds merged and dumped the rain down, they’d huddle together under the gazebo. With the rest of Smith’s friends, there was nowhere near enough room for them all, and she could almost feel the air under the gazebo crackling with tension whenever Lou and Mickey looked at each other. Being clumped together must have been as unbearable for the both of them as it was for
everyone else
.

As heavy pellets of rain lashed the gazebo and bounced up from the grass, Effie looked at her friends. Mickey stood by the barbecue, right at the edge of the shelter provided by the white structure above them. He kept his eyes down, fixed to the ground, with his
eyebrows
furrowed together and his clenching jaw working overtime. Lou stood on the other side of the barbecue, trying, and clearly failing, not to look at Mickey. For every glance she directed elsewhere, two seemed to focus in on him. She had such a look of concentration on her face that Effie could only imagine that Lou was trying to telepathically send him signals to look back at her. He didn’t.

Effie looked up at Smith standing next to her, nursing a can of Red Stripe. ‘Great day for a barbecue.’

‘I know.’ Smith grimaced, took a sip of beer and then shrugged. ‘It is England, though. A barbecue isn’t a barbecue without the threat of rain. It’s tradition.’

‘Little bit more than a threat.’

So far, it had only showered, and after a couple of minutes, the sun had come out, dried the grass enough for them to sit on
blankets
and they’d got straight back to the party. This time, it looked like the sun had disappeared, never to return again. Lou sighed heavily, and Effie turned to look at her.

‘Shall we go inside?’ Effie asked. ‘I’m getting a bit cold. You guys can stay out here and talk about boy stuff.’

‘That’s a bit sexist,’ Smith said. ‘What do you even define as
boy stu
ff
?’

Effie shrugged. ‘I dunno. Football,
Top Gear
, beer.’

‘So stereotypical. If you must know, I’ve been wanting to talk about the resurgence of feminism. I read a really interesting
article about
it recently. It was a theory that feminism was actually a
concept
invented by a guy to control women. Fascinating.’

‘Smart-arse,’ she replied and flicked Smith’s arm, grinning as she tried to hide her guilt at getting back with Oliver. His ability to bounce back to her playful banter was one of the things she adored about him the most.

‘What was that saying again? Don’t judge a book by its cover – that was it.’ Smith grinned back.