Behind a Twisted Smile
Chapter 1
I knew it was silly, but the urge was strong as I crossed the road and ran the half mile of pavement to the park and running track. The slabs were equally spaced apart, and by trial and error, I proved time and again that it was possible to complete the distance without treading on any of the cracks. If people only knew what was going through my mind at the time, they would have shaken their heads and muttered OCD. But they would have been completely wrong. Yes, I was finicky when it came to tidiness and perfection in many things, but this was just simple amusement, a reminder of my childhood when my sisters and I would plague the neighbourhood with our often rowdy and sometimes maddening games.
That afternoon, I finished work early, and like a child eagerly anticipating a trip to somewhere thrilling, I went straight home, threw my working clothes into the laundry basket and donned my running gear. I had a half-marathon race coming up a month later, and week by week, I had been shaving the minutes off towards my goal. So far, I had taken part in various national fun runs and other half-marathons around the country, and I was improving. My best was just under one and a half hours, but I knew I could get that down to nearer eighty minutes.
I usually ran on grass when training, as I was aware that pounding along miles of concrete and tarmac would eventually lead to stress fractures, and in my job, I would have been stupid to allow that to happen. A bit of a conundrum really: there I was, a holistic body therapist and massage expert, who loved running despite knowing that, one day, I might suffer from the long-term ill effects.
But as I said, running was something I had to do, I wasn’t suffering from OCD—that description suited someone else much better. Perhaps it was time he went. Life was too short to waste on mediocre involvements.
I ran and ran, sped up, slowed, sprinted and eventually jogged home, sweaty, but feeling confident and euphoric. My body was full of endorphins. Who needed drink or drugs to feel so positive and energised?
After a prolonged spell of drab clouds and drizzle, that afternoon was beautiful. An autumnal wind skittered among the trees, loosening leaves of copper and gold. My week had been busy, my appointment book completely full, and the thought of indulging in an evening alone, with a deep luxurious bath, a glass or two of Chablis and supper in my dressing-gown while watching a good film seemed like sheer heaven.
Once I arrived at the door of my ground-floor flat, I cast a cursory look round. There didn’t appear to be anyone lurking in the vicinity, so I fished around inside the utility cupboard, and retrieved my key hidden beneath a flat stone. Inside, I removed my trainers, clicked the door shut behind me and walked barefoot along the long hallway to my kitchen. A rivulet of sweat ran down between my breasts, and as I was dying for a drink of water, I would have carried right on past the sitting room if it hadn’t been for a soft chuckle that caught my ears. I checked and stared at the closed door. Had I heard something? Was I mistaken?
I immediately thought burglars and looked round for something hard and heavy. I decided Aunt Edith’s ugly vase of dried flowers sitting on the hall table would do the trick. With my heart pounding, I turned the handle, pushed the door open a few inches, and there he was. As large as life, head down, utterly engrossed in my laptop. I noticed a glass of my Chablis close at hand, lying next to the mouse. Bloody cheek!
Martyn must have sensed my presence, as he glanced up and swiftly made an attempt to close the lid.
“Moya.” In one fluid movement he stood up. “Hi, darling. You’re home early.” He stepped towards me before I had time to answer and with his hands on my shoulders, kissed me full on the lips.
He leant back and studied my face. “Mmm, salty. Very sexy. I like it. Fancy a glass of wine? I’m afraid I started without you…we’ll probably need to crack another bottle open later on.”
I stared at him. Martyn was decidedly handsome: tall and slim, and his dark hair flopped into those green eyes in a most beguiling manner. Along with his prominent cheekbones, he could have passed for an Italian or another Latinate. But I hardly knew him…let alone give him the run of my flat. And what business was it of his what time I arrived home? Hang on…how the hell did he get in?
I shook his arms from my shoulders and stepped back. “What are you doing here?”
He smiled a lazy smile. “Thought I’d come round early and surprise you. I let myself in—I know where you keep your key. You ought to be a bit more careful you know. You keep your key where anyone could find it. It’s a good job it was only me. I am right, aren’t I?” He waggled a finger in front of my face.
My eyes slid away from his and I saw he hadn’t had time to switch off my laptop—the white light still glowed. I moved towards it. Before I asked, I knew what he had been reading and I felt my blood boil. I was in the middle of writing a novel. But it wasn’t just any old novel; the story was loosely based on me and my three sisters. I started it as a cathartic exercise but soon became engrossed with the joy of writing, and although I hadn’t told a soul, I hoped to publish it one day.
“Hey! That’s private.” I spun round to confront him. “You’ve been reading something confidential. How dare you!”
He had the nerve to give a slight shrug and a lop-sided smile. “I didn’t know. I needed to look something up on the ‘net and found you’d left it icon-ed. I couldn’t resist.”
I glared and he held up his hands. “Okay, okay, I get the message. I apologise, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done it. But it’s only me. We shouldn’t have any secrets from each other. The reading was…interesting. It is about you, isn’t it? I am right?” He laid a hand gently on my cheek and rubbed a finger suggestively along my lower lip.
“You shouldn’t have touched my laptop.” I pulled away and slammed the lid down.
“But honeybun, I want to know everything about you. This has certainly whetted my appetite. I never realised—” He saw my glower and tried another winning smile.
“I promise I won’t do it again. Not without asking, anyway. All right?”
I couldn’t look at him. My thoughts were recorded on my laptop. I squirmed inside; my personal thoughts. Some things were better left unspoken, and although I had documented my secrets, if I went ahead with the novel I would have had to change things around, ensuring no one would get hurt.
“Anyway, it’s good. You should try your hand at writing your notes down properly into a full-blown novel. I’ve often thought I should write one. I’m sure I have a book in me.”
I stepped away from the desk and glanced at him, only half listening to what he was saying. His voice was an irritating sound in my ear, like a mosquito persistently droning in the dark. I suddenly realised Martyn irritated me quite a bit and we had only been going out together for a matter of weeks. I made up my mind in a flash. No one had the right to invade my space, trespass on my property or read my stuff and be aggravating. He was pretty boring too, come to think of it.
“I’m sorry, Martyn, but I’d like you to leave.”
“But honeybun, I’ve only just arrived. I thought we’d enjoy a nice evening together. Look, if it’s about your laptop, then I really am sorry. What more can I say or do?”
“No, it’s not just that.” I paused and bit back a sigh. “It’s not working…us, I mean.”
I made sure my look didn’t waver as I stared at him, and for a second his cajoling expression didn’t change. Then he lifted his hand as if to lay it on my shoulder, and I inched away.
“Moya,” he said in a wheedling tone.
“I mean it, Martyn. I don’t think we should carry on.”
“You don’t really want that.”
I jerked my head up. “Yes…I do.”
“Moya, you’re tired. Look, you’ve just got in from a tiring training run. I said the other day you’re overdoing things what with your job as well. What does it matter how long you take to run a bloody half-marathon?”
“It matters to me. I don’t want to go over this again or get involved in an argument, and I’m not joking. Please just go before one of us says something we’ll regret.”
“Moya.” His voice changed into that of a more charming tone. “If you were older, I’d say you were having a touch of the dreaded menopause…no, that’s too unkind. Be honest…you’re just tired and a bit miffed. We’ve got something good going on between us, and it’s crazy to throw it away. We’ve been so happy together.”
I stared and then, realising my mouth had dropped open, hurriedly closed it. “What?”
“Think of those fantastic days…and nights we’ve had.”
“About two weeks, two and a half at most and we’ve only slept together a couple of times.”
“Who’s counting? Each time was wonderful.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I suddenly did feel tired and deflated over the whole ridiculous conversation. Martyn seemed to be living a dream. The whole relationship was blown out of proportion. It was a casual affair. We met through a work contact, and he ended up asking me out. It didn’t matter that much to me; he was simply someone I dated a few times, and then one night, after one too many drinks, we ended up sleeping together. Thinking about it didn’t make me feel particularly good.
“Anyway,” he continued, “I wanted to see if you were interested in a weekend away. Some friends have a place in Cornwall and they have a spare room. We can confirm it tonight before anyone else snaps it up.”
I blinked and shook my head. He really was trying hard. “I’ve just told you I don’t want to see you again, so I’m hardly likely to agree to a weekend away.”
“I don’t believe you’re thinking clearly over this. A weekend will give us more time together.”
I laughed. “No! I’ve said no, and I’m perfectly lucid, thank you.”
Martyn ran his tongue over his lower lip as he considered my words. His voice sounded taut when he replied. “I don’t see what’s funny.”
I sobered and felt myself go very still. His face appeared drawn, his lips pulled down in a grimace. The hairs stood up on the back of my neck. This time it was I who apologised.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean it. I’m not laughing at you.
“I should hope not. By the way, does your family know you slept with Evie’s husband? Your brother-in-law?”
“What did you say?” I whispered, the words catching in my throat.
“You heard. Oh, it doesn’t say so explicitly in your novel, but any idiot can work it out.”
My blood ran icily cold through my veins. “I didn’t sleep wi—” I stopped as I got a grip on myself. What the hell was I doing explaining to this moron?
“Go. Just go.”
“You don’t mean it, Moya.”
“I do. Get out.”
He leant towards me, his eyes dark cold slits, and I could feel his hot breath drift across my face. “It’s your loss, honeybun.”
After he had gone, I shot the bolts across my door, threw his empty wine glass into the rubbish bin and poured myself a large measure. A thousand emotions were racing through me. I felt shaky and nauseous.
What a weirdo. I did a quick estimation: we had spent barely three weeks together, not including the few times he had come to me for treatment for a bad shoulder. Hardly time to cement a relationship. And we had sex twice. I shuddered. The first time I had too much to drink and the second…well, I couldn’t recall much about that time either, except it certainly hadn’t knocked my socks off.
I first met Martyn when I went diving with the group of people I had taken my certified PADI diving course with. I noticed him as soon as we were changing into our dive gear and asked Patrick, one of the group members, who he was. Apparently, Martyn had trained with another group prior to our course and wanted a refresher day, so he tagged along with us. We got chatting over lunch, and when he asked what I did for a living, Patrick filled him in. I remembered him saying at the time that Martyn and I were in a similar line of work—I helped to heal injuries, and he was a qualified nurse. Vaguely similar, I supposed, as we helped people get better.
A few days later, I received a phone call, and Martyn explained how his shoulder seemed stiff and achy after a day of diving. He said he wondered if it was from lifting the tank bottles into the club’s van.
I was generally careful whom I treated, and most times, my clients came to me as referrals from friends. As Patrick knew Martyn, I thought treating him would be okay. And so it was. The shoulder healed after four consultations, and a grateful Martyn took me out to dinner. After that, we saw each other a few times, but it was nothing like the relationship he implied.
After the wine, I took a long bath and calmed down, thanking my lucky stars I had got rid of him.
Chapter 2
Three weeks later I had almost forgotten about Martyn. I say almost, because I had until I received a text from him. At least, I assumed it was from Martyn. I didn’t recognise the number, but I was tired and sleepy at the time. The text came in late one night, and I read it before thinking twice about it. His message was short: I loved making you smile. That was it, nothing more. No more apologies or pleas for us to get back together. I shook my head in disbelief. He really knew how to make a meal out of nothing. What a jerk. I ignored it.
My appointment diary was almost full; my name was certainly getting around, and what free time I had was spent either at the gym or pounding the grass in our local parkland. The half-marathon was due to take place the following Sunday, and I felt confident I had trained enough to notch up a new personal best.
My friend, Faye, was due back from Brussels, and I was looking forward to picking up our friendship again. Faye and I had grown up together. We went to the same schools, shared dates as foursomes and practically lived as sisters until she went away to college and qualified as a translator. She now held some lofty job in Brussels, working for the European Commission, and consequently, our time together had lessened. Not only did Faye work abroad most of the week, she had a full-time boyfriend, who wanted to get married the following spring. Of course, I didn’t mind Simon taking precedence over me, but Faye insisted we always had at least one girly evening together most weeks she was at home.
She had a younger sister, Kate, but she was off on some high-flying job in New York, and we had no idea when she would be home. Faye said she thought Christmas might have enticed her away from the bright lights and expensive hot spots of Manhattan. I hoped she was right, as despite us I sharing most things, I knew Faye missed her little sis.
I knew Faye would get in touch with me as soon as she arrived back in England, and that evening when the phone rang, I assumed it was her.
I glanced at my mobile; I saw instead it was my elder sister, Evie. I vaguely appreciated I hadn’t seen or spoken to her for a few weeks and put it down to me being ultra busy. Hopefully, her call wasn’t going to be a scolding for ignoring her or the rest of our family. Not that could she talk, being a scatterbrain at the best of times. How she managed to hold down a responsible nursing job often puzzled me.
“Hi, Evie. How are you?”
“Fine thanks. You?”
“Yeah, good. I thought you might be Faye, actually, as she’s due back anytime. Have you seen Mum lately?”
“Yesterday, and before you ask, she’s okay. As scatty as ever and spends too much time reading The Daily Mail for her own good, but I suppose it’s harmless enough if she doesn’t believe all the crap they print.”
We both laughed. Mum was scatty, known to devour the paper on a daily basis, and often regaled us with some of the pithier stories from its pages.
It seemed Evie was in a good mood that evening. She and I got on okay, despite her being a few years older. We rarely met socially apart from at Mum’s or on the odd occasion at Angela’s, our younger sister. Evie was a part-time nurse at our local general hospital, and I always considered her to be a trifle bossy. It couldn’t have been easy being the eldest of four girls and a nursing sister. Evie’s phone call reminded me of what Martyn had accused me just before I threw him out, and I felt my cheeks glow in embarrassment. He had no right to say such things, especially without foundation. Evie and her husband had divorced long ago, and I certainly hadn’t been the catalyst.
“So what’s up? Where are you?” I asked. Mum obviously wasn’t the reason she was calling, or she would have said so by now.
“At home. I wondered if you fancied getting together this Saturday. I know it’s short notice, but we haven’t seen each other for ages.”
“True. Ah, I’m in a race this Saturday. In the morning at eleven. What did you have in mind?”
“That’s okay. Where are you running? I could come and watch the start, take a walk and then meet you after you finish, if you like.”
“Windsor, actually. The race starts and finishes in Windsor Great Park.”
There was a pause, and I thought I caught a whisper from Evie, as if she was speaking to someone else who had just entered the room. She came back to me a few seconds later.
“That’s nice. I love Windsor Park. How about we meet after the finish then and go for a picnic lunch. I’ll organise everything. If I remember, you’ll be famished and will need to take in a load of calories straight after.”
We agreed, and Evie said she would sort out a restaurant for later that evening. I suggested we meet in the car park near the race finish at one thirty if I didn’t see her before then.
“There’ll be loads of people, and we might miss each other otherwise,” I explained.
***
Saturday was cool and crisp. There was a more definite autumnal nip in the air, but no hint of rain. Perfect conditions in which to run a race.
At the line-up, I recognised other runners I had raced against before; some I had beaten, others were more experienced and faster than me. It didn’t matter—I wasn’t there to win. I just wanted to be as fit as I could be, be in control of my life and better my last time.
I wondered if Evie had arrived in time to watch the start. I doubted it, as my elder sister disliked exercise of almost any kind. I retied my shoelaces, adjusted my sweat band, checked I still had my entrance number pinned to my vest and ensured I had enough water in my camel-pack without having to stop at the feed stations. I stopped myself going to the loo for the fifth time…knowing the reason was only nerves.
As I glanced at the crowd lining the start line, I caught a glimpse of a tall dark-haired man before he turned away and disappeared into the mass of people assembled for the start—just a glimpse. No, it couldn’t be. My mind was playing tricks. Why would he be here?
Within seconds, I forgot my uncomfortable feeling, the gun fired, and we were off.
***
One hour seventeen minutes! I managed a personal best, and I considered it pretty good for someone who had taken up long-distance running later in life. A minute later, elated and clutching my medal in my hand, I congratulated everyone else around me. My legs felt good if a trifle wobbly. I was a little tired, but nothing a good hot soak and some gentle exercise later wouldn’t put right.
There was no sign of Evie, although I had a good hard search in the crowds lining the road, where the runners were coming home in dribs and drabs. I grabbed a bottle of water from the refreshment stand and made my way to the car park. I had taken a change of clothes with me and after finding the ladies’ facilities, I rinsed my face and hands before changing out of my running gear and into a fresh pair of jeans, shirt and sweater.
A smear of lippy, a quick brush of my short blonde hair, and I was ready to meet Evie. Years ago, when she and I were still kids, we were a lot closer. But I suppose we each had a different outlook on life, and we had drifted apart since then.
Evie was the eldest of us four girls; then it was me, then Angela, who was married, and finally Darcy, the baby of the family bringing up the rear. Mum had us three years apart, except for Darcy. She was a complete surprise to everyone, especially Mum. She was now sixteen years old, twenty-one years younger than me.
Sadly, Dad passed away eight years earlier, and Mum still hadn’t really got over his death. Losing a husband to a sudden heart attack must have been hard, and bringing up young Darcy by herself couldn’t have helped. I loved my youngest sister despite her being a regular little baggage at times. Looking back, I recalled I was exactly the same at her age, and I didn’t envy Mum one bit. Darcy was bright, headstrong and rebellious and probably missed a father’s strong governing hand.
Dad left Mum pretty well off. Apart from the family sweet-factory business, of which he had made her a major shareholder, he made certain he was well insured. On his death, she qualified for a good pension as his spouse. We three older girls didn’t worry that she should want for anything; but Dad’s passing left her lonely, and we tried hard to help fill that gap.
Apart from using the dividends Mum received from the company shares, she wasn’t particularly interested in our sweet factory and left the running to Angela. It was strange, really. Out of four daughters, none of us was involved in the business except Angela, and it was she who possessed the business acumen. Perhaps if our parents had raised sons it might have been different.
I dumped my kit bag in my car and started walking back towards the race finish; I hadn’t gone more than a few yards when I spied Evie walking towards me. Even from a distance I could tell there was something different about her. As we drew nearer, I realised what it was. She looked slimmer.
Evie had always been what you might call chubby, and her roundness had spilled over into her teens. Since then, she had a permanent battle on her hands until, after trying every crash diet on the planet, she eventually gave in. She admitted to being a size sixteen or eighteen with wide hips and full fleshy breasts. The slim-line dresses in a size twelve or fourteen would always evade her.
That day though, it appeared she might have found a diet which suited her. Up close, I stopped and smiled as I noticed the other changes. Her hair was naturally almost the same colour as mine—a little darker—and she generally wore it long, invariably with an Alice band or up in a bun for work.
She must have been to the hairdresser, as it looked blonder, and I was quite shocked to see that it had been cut and styled.
“Wow! Evie, your hair! I can’t remember the last time you had it done. And am I imagining it, or have you lost weight too? You look fantastic! ”
She touched her hair with one hand and gave me a self-conscious grin. “I know. It was about time. I thought forty was a bit old for really long hair, and since I’ve had it done, I realised what a pain it had been all this time. So now, I just wash it, blow dry and flick up the ends. Easy-peasy, and as for the weight, I’ve been following a great diet. I’ve lost nearly half a stone in just over two weeks.”
Evie had lovely bone structure, and with the weight loss she looked pretty stunning. My gaze travelled from her bright head down to her toes. She had splashed out on some new togs too: dark-grey pixie boots peeped out beneath a pair of expensive-looking dark-blue linen trousers. She was wearing a pale-grey silk shirt and a sapphire-blue woollen jacket.
“Honestly, you do look good. But be careful dieting. Crash diets don’t usually work.” I wasn’t lying, and as I took the new Evie look in, I noticed something else. Her eyes sparkled, and she had a definite spring in her step. I wondered what caused it. Perhaps she had been given a pay rise or even a change of employment; her new clothes were definitely not bought from one of the cheap stores in town.
“So where have you decided to go for our picnic? I’m pretty hungry now. Guess what? I completed the race in my best ever time.”
“Well done you. Mum said you were aiming to beat your last time. Actually, I thought as it’s such a lovely day we’d have the picnic here in the park, and then, once it gets chilly, finish off with a cream tea on the Thames somewhere.”
“Sounds good to me.”
The Saville Gardens were nearby, and we walked the short distance skirting round the lake. Evie was definitely keyed up about something as she chatted happily about Mum and our sisters. I cast a quick glance at her as I took hold of one of the two picnic cool bags to carry. Yes, definitely; sparkle was the right word to describe my sister that day. I knew I couldn’t hurry Evie, though—she would tell me in her own good time.
We chose our spot with care: a small picnic table, vacant and sheltered by a copse of trees.
Evie had brought quite a spread, and we started on slices of smoked salmon filled with creamed horseradish and prawns hors d‘oeuvres, accompanied by a crisp white wine. I gaped at what she had put together for what I thought was to be a simple picnic. My scatterbrained sister was renowned for being idle and would normally have packed a few sandwiches and crisps and been done with it. This was a rare treat. I alternated sipping the Australian Riesling with a glass of water, as I needed to rehydrate after the race.
After the salmon, she produced some delicious cold chicken with a rice salad, and I couldn’t hold back any longer.
“So, you’ve said Mum and Darcy are okay, but what about you? You seem…different. Apart from all this,” I waved a hand over the food, “which is a delightful surprise and your new appearance, have you just been given a massive pay rise or something?”
She glanced away with a tiny smile, dimples appearing in her cheeks and pointed to a squirrel scampering down from a nearby tree. “Cute. Um, I’m fine, but I do have something to tell you. It might shock you at first.”
I flicked my gaze from the squirrel, which had ventured near enough to pinch a few crumbs, back to Evie. “Oh? Don’t tell me you’ve been offered a full sister post on your ward?”
She laughed. “Silly, they don’t want a part-timer in charge. Nor would I want to be. I’m happy with my position as it is. No, I’ve got a new boyfriend.”
“That’s great. What does he do? Does he live near you?”
“Fairly near. And the amazing thing is he’s a nurse, too.”
At that moment the sun went in behind a dark cloud, and I shivered as if someone had walked over my grave.
Chapter 3
My next first thought was why her, why Evie? And then I realised that if I had spoken out loud, she would have taken it the wrong way. But the coincidence was curious. Or was it? Was I drawing my own conclusions before I knew the facts? Everyone said how small the world had become, what with social media and flights everywhere, etcetera. No, perhaps it wasn’t that curious as both were single and of a similar age. All the same, I did wonder if she had engineered that day for some reason. Evie could be devious at times—a throwback to when she was a child. I recalled taking the blame for quite a few of her foolhardy escapades.
No, be serious. My thoughts were running away from me. There must be hundreds of male nurses working nearby.
“Really?”
“Moya, you might find this a bit strange, uncomfortable even.”
I forced my eyes to meet hers, knowing I was right. Oh ye gods, spare us. “Uncomfortable? Why would I? I’m pleased you’ve met someone.”
“Of course you are, as I would be if you met someone you really cared about. Only, the thing is…you know him.”
I expressed surprise. Opening my eyes wide and raising my eyebrows, I could have won an Oscar with the effort. “I do?”
She licked her bottom lip. “Well, to be accurate, you went out with him. It’s Martyn.”
“Martyn,” I repeated to gain time.
“Yes.” She nodded, and the rest of her words came out in a gabble. “Martyn Cousins. I know what you’re thinking…how odd this all is. But it just happened. We’ve been seeing each other for about three weeks now. The thing is he wants us all to meet later today. He says that he’s sure you won’t mind and that it’ll be a good thing for us to meet up.”
“Mmm, but he and I parted and not on very good terms,” I said.
“I know all about it.”
This time, my eyes truly were as big as saucers. “You do?”
She nodded eagerly. “Yes, but I know you’ll understand. You’ve had lots of boyfriends. I’m sure it was upsetting at the time when Martyn split up with you, but you’ve always got over it before. He said you were angry and said some nasty things, which he was sure you didn’t mean. It was just a bit of a shock for you, but he’s forgotten and forgiven you.”
I was speechless. She hurried on.
“Anyway, please for my sake. I want us all to be friends. One big happy family.”
I took in a huge lungful of air. “Honestly, Evie, I really don’t care about him. I never did. What I mean is, you’re welcome to him.”
She sat back and gazed at me with a slight frown. “Are you sure? You look a bit fierce.”
I shook my head and managed a smile, although it might have come out a bit sickly looking. “No really, I’m okay with it.”
“If you really are, then great. You see, Martyn thought you might still be a bit miffed, and he wanted today to be nice.”
“Today?” He knew about today.
“Yes,” She glanced at her watch before pouring some more wine into my glass. “He’s joining us.”
I knew my mouth dropped open as I gawked at her, and I must have looked a complete idiot when, seconds later, Martyn casually strolled into view on the path not more than twenty feet away from where we were sitting.
He raised a hand in greeting, and bent down to kiss Evie on the lips before saying anything. She gave a surprised squeak, turned and wrapped her arms around his neck. After what seemed an interminable length of time, they drew apart reluctantly, and she murmured something. Martyn smiled, nodded and looked across at me. His beam widened until it stretched across his face, and then, raising his arms, he walked round the picnic bench to my side.
“Moya,” he said. And before I had time to leap up from the wooden bench, he pressed his hands down upon my shoulders and smiled into my eyes. Evie would never have known the pressure which pinned me onto the seat.
“Hello, Moya.”
Without another word his mouth hovered near mine, and I realised with horror that he was about to kiss me. I managed to turn my head at the last moment, and his lips grazed against my cheek.
“It’s so good to see you again. You’re looking well. I’m presuming Evie has told you our good news?” He smiled gently at Evie, and she blushed in response.
“About you and her? Yes, of course she has, but you—”
“And you understand? Evie and I, well it just happened.”
“Yes, yes, I’ve already said so, haven’t I, Evie?” I heard Evie catch her breath, and I threw her a desperate look, which was entirely wasted, as she frowned at my reply. I wondered if I sounded as brusque to them as I did to myself. Damn!
“Look, it really is okay with me.” I smiled and looked from her back to Martyn.
“I know it’s awkward, but I know how big-hearted you are usually.”
“No, it’s not awkward, and I’m pleased for you both.”
I swear Martyn’s eyes misted over, and he covered Evie’s hand with his own. “See, honeybun. I said she’d be kind. She’s so like your mum, Moya is. Big-hearted and generous. She never bears a grudge.”
“Mum? What’s she got to do with this?” I knew Mum was scatty and charitable, but the thought of Martyn wheedling his way into her good books irritated me.
“Nothing, Moya. All Martyn means is, Mum invited us over for a meal a few days ago. She wanted to meet him, and they got on like a house on fire. Darcy was there, too, and even she seemed to like Martyn. You know how picky Darcy is.” As she spoke, she handed Martyn a plate and piled it with smoked-salmon canapés and a portion of chicken.
“Yeah, underneath all that black eye-liner and heavy jewellery, there’s a nice kid lurking inside.” Martyn hugged Evie to him with a grin.
I could imagine the four of them sitting round the dinner table exchanging banter and maybe discussing me. I froze suddenly. Evie said Martyn had forgotten our row and forgiven me. What the hell had he really said? The great euphoric feeling I had earlier that day, after my race, dissipated completely. The bastard had turned everything round.
“Actually, you’ve got it all wrong, Evie, our parting—”
“Don’t spoil a nice day, Moya. Look, Evie is being nice and understanding. Don’t let’s talk about what happened. It’s not important. Chill out and have another glass of wine.” He upended the bottle into my glass.
“I don’t want any more,” I grumbled in protest, glaring at him when he placed a warning hand on my wrist.
“Moya,” said Evie, leaning towards me with a begging look upon her face. “Martyn didn’t do anything or say anything wrong. He just told Mum what he thought was necessary. She had to know about you and Martyn sometime—you know, before he and I met.”
I stared at her face, which was full of concern for me. Her pretty eyes pleaded with me to accept and behave. I didn’t have the heart to tell her what a creepy little shit I really thought he was. I would never forgive him for stealing into my flat and going through my personal laptop files. Had he searched through my drawers and cupboards too? No, I couldn’t explain it all to Evie. Not then, not that day. Maybe when we two sisters were on our own, I could tell her the truth.
A feeling of lassitude settled like a damp mist over me.
“Of course she did. Sorry, I’m feeling tired after my run. Let’s finish our picnic. Anyway, here’s to you both,” I said, raising my glass in their direction. I took a sip, but as I replaced the glass back on the table, my hand shook so much I knocked it over.
“Oh, how clumsy. Sorry. It’s a good job it’s white and not red,” I cried in embarrassment as Evie and Martyn leapt up from their seats.
“No problem,” he said as he mopped up the spilt wine on the table with a serviette.
“It’s okay, I’ve got another bottle. Except that it’s red,” Evie said delving into one of the cool bags.
“Allow me.” Martyn took the bottle from her hands and reached for the bottle opener. “No harm’s been done, Moya. This red’s pretty good. We got it from the wine shop just round the corner, didn’t we, Evie? I like a cheeky little Merlot, and I know you do too, Moya.”
“Do I? Er, no more for me thanks.”
“Go on? A little red won’t hurt—it might mellow you,” Martyn said as he plunged the corkscrew in.
“No, really. I’ve got to drive home and I’ve had enough.”
“You’re not still worrying about whether it’s produced organically or not, are you?” He swung his gaze to Evie. “Honestly, Moya spent all our time together dithering about whether her diet was all wrong. I never knew what we were going to have to eat. Ace diet, GI, Five: Two. Your sister has a real compulsion for eating and drinking the right things, doesn’t she, honeybun?”
“Well, Moya has always been fussy about what she eats.”
“But it’s more than that, isn’t it?” He pressed on. “Moya frets about selecting, buying, preparing, cooking, ornamenting, and eventually consuming her food. You know, I’d say she’s bulimic as well as suffering from OCD.”
“Excuse me. She…I am sitting right here you know, and you’ve got it completely wrong.” I couldn’t help crying out in outrage at his words. “I do not worry that much. I just like experimenting with things and that includes diet. If you must know, I maintain that all aspects of people's needs, including psychological, physical and social, should be taken into account and seen as a whole. I don’t consider it unusual to want a complete holistic order throughout my life.”
“I hope you‘re not still worried about your weight…you don’t need to. You’re as slim as ever. Actually, you’re thinner now that I look closely at you. Your waist is trimmer and makes your bust more prominent. Wouldn’t you agree, Evie?”
Struggling to keep my temper, I bit my bottom lip.
“Yes, but then Moya has always had a lovely figure.” She answered in a tight little voice, and I flicked a glance her way, wondering if she guessed what Martyn was insinuating. He was with my breasts, and the memory made me want to squirm.
I thought back to Martyn’s little statement about bulimia and OCD, both mental disorders. He said he was a nurse, but the thought crossed my mind that he might have been a registered mental nurse. Sod it, I knew next to nothing about the man. The stuff I remembered was a bit thin on the ground…he said he was a nurse between placements. I never met any of his friends other than the one at the diving school. I hadn’t seen his flat, and I didn’t know anything of his past life apart from him saying he was an orphan.
I looked at my watch and wondered how soon I could get away. Evie must have noticed, as she immediately pulled out another plastic box from the cool bag and whipped off the lid with a flourish.
“Mini apple pies,” she said, with a pleased grin. “Martyn’s favourite.”
“Not quite…I prefer blackcurrant. I thought you knew.”
Evie’s mouth made a little moue of disappointment.
“But these do look scrummy, and I bet you spent ages making them for me, didn’t you, honeybun?”
Yuk! I was feeling queasy. “You never told me how you two met.”
Evie laughed. “It was quite bizarre, really. We literally bumped headlong into one another. It was my fault—I wasn’t looking where I was going, and suddenly there I was, sprawled on the pavement, broken eggs and shopping all around me. Martyn helped me pack everything up, apologising all the time, saying it was his fault, and then I noticed I had broken the heel on my shoe.”
“I couldn’t let a damsel in distress carry all that shopping.”
Evie flushed and giggled. “No, Martyn, you were lovely. Anyway, he insisted he carry all the plastic bags and asked me where my car was.”
“Not knowing Evie lived nearby,” Martyn said, helping himself to a second apple pie and taking a large bite.
“Once we reached my front door, I realised we hadn’t stopped chatting since bumping into one another. It seemed as if we’d known each other for ages.”
“I said I felt as if I knew Evie from long ago and we both laughed,” Martyn said, giving Evie a fond look.
“Yes. I replied I was just about to say the same thing. By then, it seemed natural to invite Martyn in for a cup of coffee. He stayed for lunch, and we went out that evening for dinner.”
“After that, we met every day, and here we are. All the time, I had this feeling Evie reminded me of someone, and one evening, it clicked. She mentioned her three sisters, including you, Moya. You can imagine how amazed we both were.”
Evie nodded her golden head, and again, I noticed how full of life she looked. My heart did a little jump, as I realised she had fallen headlong in love.
“Yes, surprised and a bit worried at first,” she said. “But I’m so pleased we’ve sorted it all out and you’re okay with everything.”
“Evie, I’m really pleased for you.”
She laughed and her eyes sparkled. “I’m so happy. As I said earlier, we’ve been dating for three weeks now, and we both feel the same. I know about you and Martyn…well, you know what I’m trying to say.”
“It’s fine. You’re in love and it’s really great.” Was it? Three weeks, about the same time he and I had been seeing each other. Was my elder sister really so blindly in love?
Without realising, I drank more of the wine Martyn had poured for me and nibbled at a fruit pastry. We—they—chatted, and I joined in with the obligatory yes or no, at the same time stealing covert looks at the pair of them: her so happy and he so smug. I could have slapped him.
The afternoon autumn chill descended, and with relief, I stretched, said that my stiff muscles ached and that I needed a deep hot bath. I cried off going to a pub with them and out for dinner afterwards, saying it was time I headed home.
We packed up the picnic and walked back to the car park. Evie said she was desperate for a pee and disappeared into the ladies.
I could feel Martyn’s eyes travelling over my body as I unlocked my car and threw my bag inside. I straightened and turned, only to find him so unbelievably close, I could smell his cologne.
“That was an amazing coincidence, wasn’t it?”
“What was?”
“You bumping into my sister after I’d broken up with you. How did you find her?”
“What? Oh, Moya, Moya. Don’t be like that.” His voice changed to a soft purr. “I was merely being a gentleman and helping a lady with her broken shopping bags. Surely you’re not suggesting I orchestrated it? She bumped into me, don’t forget.”
“Hmm. So you said.”
“And no, I don’t believe in coincidences. Kismet or fate, maybe”
“What?”
“Why wouldn’t I fall in love with a beautiful woman? Especially if she looks like you. Older yes, but in the full flush of beauty.”
What type of sick joke was he playing? He hadn’t been in love with me. He used me and my flat because we were convenient at the time.
“If you’re playing some sick idea of a joke with her, don’t. She’s been through a rough time and deserves some happiness.”
“I know, she told me. And yes, I’ll make her happy. I already have. We’re like two peas in a pod already.” His mouth hovered unbearably close to mine, and I backed away as far as I could until I could feel the hard metal of my car door close behind me.
“Just because I broke it off with you, don’t use her to get back at me.”
He stepped back with a look of horror and shock on his face.
“Moya! I thought you knew me better.”
No, you sick fuck. That’s the problem. I don’t know you at all. And perhaps worst of all, neither does Evie.
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Chapter 1
I knew it was silly, but the urge was strong as I crossed the road and ran the half mile of pavement to the park and running track. The slabs were equally spaced apart, and by trial and error, I proved time and again that it was possible to complete the distance without treading on any of the cracks. If people only knew what was going through my mind at the time, they would have shaken their heads and muttered OCD. But they would have been completely wrong. Yes, I was finicky when it came to tidiness and perfection in many things, but this was just simple amusement, a reminder of my childhood when my sisters and I would plague the neighbourhood with our often rowdy and sometimes maddening games.
That afternoon, I finished work early, and like a child eagerly anticipating a trip to somewhere thrilling, I went straight home, threw my working clothes into the laundry basket and donned my running gear. I had a half-marathon race coming up a month later, and week by week, I had been shaving the minutes off towards my goal. So far, I had taken part in various national fun runs and other half-marathons around the country, and I was improving. My best was just under one and a half hours, but I knew I could get that down to nearer eighty minutes.
I usually ran on grass when training, as I was aware that pounding along miles of concrete and tarmac would eventually lead to stress fractures, and in my job, I would have been stupid to allow that to happen. A bit of a conundrum really: there I was, a holistic body therapist and massage expert, who loved running despite knowing that, one day, I might suffer from the long-term ill effects.
But as I said, running was something I had to do, I wasn’t suffering from OCD—that description suited someone else much better. Perhaps it was time he went. Life was too short to waste on mediocre involvements.
I ran and ran, sped up, slowed, sprinted and eventually jogged home, sweaty, but feeling confident and euphoric. My body was full of endorphins. Who needed drink or drugs to feel so positive and energised?
After a prolonged spell of drab clouds and drizzle, that afternoon was beautiful. An autumnal wind skittered among the trees, loosening leaves of copper and gold. My week had been busy, my appointment book completely full, and the thought of indulging in an evening alone, with a deep luxurious bath, a glass or two of Chablis and supper in my dressing-gown while watching a good film seemed like sheer heaven.
Once I arrived at the door of my ground-floor flat, I cast a cursory look round. There didn’t appear to be anyone lurking in the vicinity, so I fished around inside the utility cupboard, and retrieved my key hidden beneath a flat stone. Inside, I removed my trainers, clicked the door shut behind me and walked barefoot along the long hallway to my kitchen. A rivulet of sweat ran down between my breasts, and as I was dying for a drink of water, I would have carried right on past the sitting room if it hadn’t been for a soft chuckle that caught my ears. I checked and stared at the closed door. Had I heard something? Was I mistaken?
I immediately thought burglars and looked round for something hard and heavy. I decided Aunt Edith’s ugly vase of dried flowers sitting on the hall table would do the trick. With my heart pounding, I turned the handle, pushed the door open a few inches, and there he was. As large as life, head down, utterly engrossed in my laptop. I noticed a glass of my Chablis close at hand, lying next to the mouse. Bloody cheek!
Martyn must have sensed my presence, as he glanced up and swiftly made an attempt to close the lid.
“Moya.” In one fluid movement he stood up. “Hi, darling. You’re home early.” He stepped towards me before I had time to answer and with his hands on my shoulders, kissed me full on the lips.
He leant back and studied my face. “Mmm, salty. Very sexy. I like it. Fancy a glass of wine? I’m afraid I started without you…we’ll probably need to crack another bottle open later on.”
I stared at him. Martyn was decidedly handsome: tall and slim, and his dark hair flopped into those green eyes in a most beguiling manner. Along with his prominent cheekbones, he could have passed for an Italian or another Latinate. But I hardly knew him…let alone give him the run of my flat. And what business was it of his what time I arrived home? Hang on…how the hell did he get in?
I shook his arms from my shoulders and stepped back. “What are you doing here?”
He smiled a lazy smile. “Thought I’d come round early and surprise you. I let myself in—I know where you keep your key. You ought to be a bit more careful you know. You keep your key where anyone could find it. It’s a good job it was only me. I am right, aren’t I?” He waggled a finger in front of my face.
My eyes slid away from his and I saw he hadn’t had time to switch off my laptop—the white light still glowed. I moved towards it. Before I asked, I knew what he had been reading and I felt my blood boil. I was in the middle of writing a novel. But it wasn’t just any old novel; the story was loosely based on me and my three sisters. I started it as a cathartic exercise but soon became engrossed with the joy of writing, and although I hadn’t told a soul, I hoped to publish it one day.
“Hey! That’s private.” I spun round to confront him. “You’ve been reading something confidential. How dare you!”
He had the nerve to give a slight shrug and a lop-sided smile. “I didn’t know. I needed to look something up on the ‘net and found you’d left it icon-ed. I couldn’t resist.”
I glared and he held up his hands. “Okay, okay, I get the message. I apologise, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done it. But it’s only me. We shouldn’t have any secrets from each other. The reading was…interesting. It is about you, isn’t it? I am right?” He laid a hand gently on my cheek and rubbed a finger suggestively along my lower lip.
“You shouldn’t have touched my laptop.” I pulled away and slammed the lid down.
“But honeybun, I want to know everything about you. This has certainly whetted my appetite. I never realised—” He saw my glower and tried another winning smile.
“I promise I won’t do it again. Not without asking, anyway. All right?”
I couldn’t look at him. My thoughts were recorded on my laptop. I squirmed inside; my personal thoughts. Some things were better left unspoken, and although I had documented my secrets, if I went ahead with the novel I would have had to change things around, ensuring no one would get hurt.
“Anyway, it’s good. You should try your hand at writing your notes down properly into a full-blown novel. I’ve often thought I should write one. I’m sure I have a book in me.”
I stepped away from the desk and glanced at him, only half listening to what he was saying. His voice was an irritating sound in my ear, like a mosquito persistently droning in the dark. I suddenly realised Martyn irritated me quite a bit and we had only been going out together for a matter of weeks. I made up my mind in a flash. No one had the right to invade my space, trespass on my property or read my stuff and be aggravating. He was pretty boring too, come to think of it.
“I’m sorry, Martyn, but I’d like you to leave.”
“But honeybun, I’ve only just arrived. I thought we’d enjoy a nice evening together. Look, if it’s about your laptop, then I really am sorry. What more can I say or do?”
“No, it’s not just that.” I paused and bit back a sigh. “It’s not working…us, I mean.”
I made sure my look didn’t waver as I stared at him, and for a second his cajoling expression didn’t change. Then he lifted his hand as if to lay it on my shoulder, and I inched away.
“Moya,” he said in a wheedling tone.
“I mean it, Martyn. I don’t think we should carry on.”
“You don’t really want that.”
I jerked my head up. “Yes…I do.”
“Moya, you’re tired. Look, you’ve just got in from a tiring training run. I said the other day you’re overdoing things what with your job as well. What does it matter how long you take to run a bloody half-marathon?”
“It matters to me. I don’t want to go over this again or get involved in an argument, and I’m not joking. Please just go before one of us says something we’ll regret.”
“Moya.” His voice changed into that of a more charming tone. “If you were older, I’d say you were having a touch of the dreaded menopause…no, that’s too unkind. Be honest…you’re just tired and a bit miffed. We’ve got something good going on between us, and it’s crazy to throw it away. We’ve been so happy together.”
I stared and then, realising my mouth had dropped open, hurriedly closed it. “What?”
“Think of those fantastic days…and nights we’ve had.”
“About two weeks, two and a half at most and we’ve only slept together a couple of times.”
“Who’s counting? Each time was wonderful.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I suddenly did feel tired and deflated over the whole ridiculous conversation. Martyn seemed to be living a dream. The whole relationship was blown out of proportion. It was a casual affair. We met through a work contact, and he ended up asking me out. It didn’t matter that much to me; he was simply someone I dated a few times, and then one night, after one too many drinks, we ended up sleeping together. Thinking about it didn’t make me feel particularly good.
“Anyway,” he continued, “I wanted to see if you were interested in a weekend away. Some friends have a place in Cornwall and they have a spare room. We can confirm it tonight before anyone else snaps it up.”
I blinked and shook my head. He really was trying hard. “I’ve just told you I don’t want to see you again, so I’m hardly likely to agree to a weekend away.”
“I don’t believe you’re thinking clearly over this. A weekend will give us more time together.”
I laughed. “No! I’ve said no, and I’m perfectly lucid, thank you.”
Martyn ran his tongue over his lower lip as he considered my words. His voice sounded taut when he replied. “I don’t see what’s funny.”
I sobered and felt myself go very still. His face appeared drawn, his lips pulled down in a grimace. The hairs stood up on the back of my neck. This time it was I who apologised.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean it. I’m not laughing at you.
“I should hope not. By the way, does your family know you slept with Evie’s husband? Your brother-in-law?”
“What did you say?” I whispered, the words catching in my throat.
“You heard. Oh, it doesn’t say so explicitly in your novel, but any idiot can work it out.”
My blood ran icily cold through my veins. “I didn’t sleep wi—” I stopped as I got a grip on myself. What the hell was I doing explaining to this moron?
“Go. Just go.”
“You don’t mean it, Moya.”
“I do. Get out.”
He leant towards me, his eyes dark cold slits, and I could feel his hot breath drift across my face. “It’s your loss, honeybun.”
After he had gone, I shot the bolts across my door, threw his empty wine glass into the rubbish bin and poured myself a large measure. A thousand emotions were racing through me. I felt shaky and nauseous.
What a weirdo. I did a quick estimation: we had spent barely three weeks together, not including the few times he had come to me for treatment for a bad shoulder. Hardly time to cement a relationship. And we had sex twice. I shuddered. The first time I had too much to drink and the second…well, I couldn’t recall much about that time either, except it certainly hadn’t knocked my socks off.
I first met Martyn when I went diving with the group of people I had taken my certified PADI diving course with. I noticed him as soon as we were changing into our dive gear and asked Patrick, one of the group members, who he was. Apparently, Martyn had trained with another group prior to our course and wanted a refresher day, so he tagged along with us. We got chatting over lunch, and when he asked what I did for a living, Patrick filled him in. I remembered him saying at the time that Martyn and I were in a similar line of work—I helped to heal injuries, and he was a qualified nurse. Vaguely similar, I supposed, as we helped people get better.
A few days later, I received a phone call, and Martyn explained how his shoulder seemed stiff and achy after a day of diving. He said he wondered if it was from lifting the tank bottles into the club’s van.
I was generally careful whom I treated, and most times, my clients came to me as referrals from friends. As Patrick knew Martyn, I thought treating him would be okay. And so it was. The shoulder healed after four consultations, and a grateful Martyn took me out to dinner. After that, we saw each other a few times, but it was nothing like the relationship he implied.
After the wine, I took a long bath and calmed down, thanking my lucky stars I had got rid of him.
Chapter 2
Three weeks later I had almost forgotten about Martyn. I say almost, because I had until I received a text from him. At least, I assumed it was from Martyn. I didn’t recognise the number, but I was tired and sleepy at the time. The text came in late one night, and I read it before thinking twice about it. His message was short: I loved making you smile. That was it, nothing more. No more apologies or pleas for us to get back together. I shook my head in disbelief. He really knew how to make a meal out of nothing. What a jerk. I ignored it.
My appointment diary was almost full; my name was certainly getting around, and what free time I had was spent either at the gym or pounding the grass in our local parkland. The half-marathon was due to take place the following Sunday, and I felt confident I had trained enough to notch up a new personal best.
My friend, Faye, was due back from Brussels, and I was looking forward to picking up our friendship again. Faye and I had grown up together. We went to the same schools, shared dates as foursomes and practically lived as sisters until she went away to college and qualified as a translator. She now held some lofty job in Brussels, working for the European Commission, and consequently, our time together had lessened. Not only did Faye work abroad most of the week, she had a full-time boyfriend, who wanted to get married the following spring. Of course, I didn’t mind Simon taking precedence over me, but Faye insisted we always had at least one girly evening together most weeks she was at home.
She had a younger sister, Kate, but she was off on some high-flying job in New York, and we had no idea when she would be home. Faye said she thought Christmas might have enticed her away from the bright lights and expensive hot spots of Manhattan. I hoped she was right, as despite us I sharing most things, I knew Faye missed her little sis.
I knew Faye would get in touch with me as soon as she arrived back in England, and that evening when the phone rang, I assumed it was her.
I glanced at my mobile; I saw instead it was my elder sister, Evie. I vaguely appreciated I hadn’t seen or spoken to her for a few weeks and put it down to me being ultra busy. Hopefully, her call wasn’t going to be a scolding for ignoring her or the rest of our family. Not that could she talk, being a scatterbrain at the best of times. How she managed to hold down a responsible nursing job often puzzled me.
“Hi, Evie. How are you?”
“Fine thanks. You?”
“Yeah, good. I thought you might be Faye, actually, as she’s due back anytime. Have you seen Mum lately?”
“Yesterday, and before you ask, she’s okay. As scatty as ever and spends too much time reading The Daily Mail for her own good, but I suppose it’s harmless enough if she doesn’t believe all the crap they print.”
We both laughed. Mum was scatty, known to devour the paper on a daily basis, and often regaled us with some of the pithier stories from its pages.
It seemed Evie was in a good mood that evening. She and I got on okay, despite her being a few years older. We rarely met socially apart from at Mum’s or on the odd occasion at Angela’s, our younger sister. Evie was a part-time nurse at our local general hospital, and I always considered her to be a trifle bossy. It couldn’t have been easy being the eldest of four girls and a nursing sister. Evie’s phone call reminded me of what Martyn had accused me just before I threw him out, and I felt my cheeks glow in embarrassment. He had no right to say such things, especially without foundation. Evie and her husband had divorced long ago, and I certainly hadn’t been the catalyst.
“So what’s up? Where are you?” I asked. Mum obviously wasn’t the reason she was calling, or she would have said so by now.
“At home. I wondered if you fancied getting together this Saturday. I know it’s short notice, but we haven’t seen each other for ages.”
“True. Ah, I’m in a race this Saturday. In the morning at eleven. What did you have in mind?”
“That’s okay. Where are you running? I could come and watch the start, take a walk and then meet you after you finish, if you like.”
“Windsor, actually. The race starts and finishes in Windsor Great Park.”
There was a pause, and I thought I caught a whisper from Evie, as if she was speaking to someone else who had just entered the room. She came back to me a few seconds later.
“That’s nice. I love Windsor Park. How about we meet after the finish then and go for a picnic lunch. I’ll organise everything. If I remember, you’ll be famished and will need to take in a load of calories straight after.”
We agreed, and Evie said she would sort out a restaurant for later that evening. I suggested we meet in the car park near the race finish at one thirty if I didn’t see her before then.
“There’ll be loads of people, and we might miss each other otherwise,” I explained.
***
Saturday was cool and crisp. There was a more definite autumnal nip in the air, but no hint of rain. Perfect conditions in which to run a race.
At the line-up, I recognised other runners I had raced against before; some I had beaten, others were more experienced and faster than me. It didn’t matter—I wasn’t there to win. I just wanted to be as fit as I could be, be in control of my life and better my last time.
I wondered if Evie had arrived in time to watch the start. I doubted it, as my elder sister disliked exercise of almost any kind. I retied my shoelaces, adjusted my sweat band, checked I still had my entrance number pinned to my vest and ensured I had enough water in my camel-pack without having to stop at the feed stations. I stopped myself going to the loo for the fifth time…knowing the reason was only nerves.
As I glanced at the crowd lining the start line, I caught a glimpse of a tall dark-haired man before he turned away and disappeared into the mass of people assembled for the start—just a glimpse. No, it couldn’t be. My mind was playing tricks. Why would he be here?
Within seconds, I forgot my uncomfortable feeling, the gun fired, and we were off.
***
One hour seventeen minutes! I managed a personal best, and I considered it pretty good for someone who had taken up long-distance running later in life. A minute later, elated and clutching my medal in my hand, I congratulated everyone else around me. My legs felt good if a trifle wobbly. I was a little tired, but nothing a good hot soak and some gentle exercise later wouldn’t put right.
There was no sign of Evie, although I had a good hard search in the crowds lining the road, where the runners were coming home in dribs and drabs. I grabbed a bottle of water from the refreshment stand and made my way to the car park. I had taken a change of clothes with me and after finding the ladies’ facilities, I rinsed my face and hands before changing out of my running gear and into a fresh pair of jeans, shirt and sweater.
A smear of lippy, a quick brush of my short blonde hair, and I was ready to meet Evie. Years ago, when she and I were still kids, we were a lot closer. But I suppose we each had a different outlook on life, and we had drifted apart since then.
Evie was the eldest of us four girls; then it was me, then Angela, who was married, and finally Darcy, the baby of the family bringing up the rear. Mum had us three years apart, except for Darcy. She was a complete surprise to everyone, especially Mum. She was now sixteen years old, twenty-one years younger than me.
Sadly, Dad passed away eight years earlier, and Mum still hadn’t really got over his death. Losing a husband to a sudden heart attack must have been hard, and bringing up young Darcy by herself couldn’t have helped. I loved my youngest sister despite her being a regular little baggage at times. Looking back, I recalled I was exactly the same at her age, and I didn’t envy Mum one bit. Darcy was bright, headstrong and rebellious and probably missed a father’s strong governing hand.
Dad left Mum pretty well off. Apart from the family sweet-factory business, of which he had made her a major shareholder, he made certain he was well insured. On his death, she qualified for a good pension as his spouse. We three older girls didn’t worry that she should want for anything; but Dad’s passing left her lonely, and we tried hard to help fill that gap.
Apart from using the dividends Mum received from the company shares, she wasn’t particularly interested in our sweet factory and left the running to Angela. It was strange, really. Out of four daughters, none of us was involved in the business except Angela, and it was she who possessed the business acumen. Perhaps if our parents had raised sons it might have been different.
I dumped my kit bag in my car and started walking back towards the race finish; I hadn’t gone more than a few yards when I spied Evie walking towards me. Even from a distance I could tell there was something different about her. As we drew nearer, I realised what it was. She looked slimmer.
Evie had always been what you might call chubby, and her roundness had spilled over into her teens. Since then, she had a permanent battle on her hands until, after trying every crash diet on the planet, she eventually gave in. She admitted to being a size sixteen or eighteen with wide hips and full fleshy breasts. The slim-line dresses in a size twelve or fourteen would always evade her.
That day though, it appeared she might have found a diet which suited her. Up close, I stopped and smiled as I noticed the other changes. Her hair was naturally almost the same colour as mine—a little darker—and she generally wore it long, invariably with an Alice band or up in a bun for work.
She must have been to the hairdresser, as it looked blonder, and I was quite shocked to see that it had been cut and styled.
“Wow! Evie, your hair! I can’t remember the last time you had it done. And am I imagining it, or have you lost weight too? You look fantastic! ”
She touched her hair with one hand and gave me a self-conscious grin. “I know. It was about time. I thought forty was a bit old for really long hair, and since I’ve had it done, I realised what a pain it had been all this time. So now, I just wash it, blow dry and flick up the ends. Easy-peasy, and as for the weight, I’ve been following a great diet. I’ve lost nearly half a stone in just over two weeks.”
Evie had lovely bone structure, and with the weight loss she looked pretty stunning. My gaze travelled from her bright head down to her toes. She had splashed out on some new togs too: dark-grey pixie boots peeped out beneath a pair of expensive-looking dark-blue linen trousers. She was wearing a pale-grey silk shirt and a sapphire-blue woollen jacket.
“Honestly, you do look good. But be careful dieting. Crash diets don’t usually work.” I wasn’t lying, and as I took the new Evie look in, I noticed something else. Her eyes sparkled, and she had a definite spring in her step. I wondered what caused it. Perhaps she had been given a pay rise or even a change of employment; her new clothes were definitely not bought from one of the cheap stores in town.
“So where have you decided to go for our picnic? I’m pretty hungry now. Guess what? I completed the race in my best ever time.”
“Well done you. Mum said you were aiming to beat your last time. Actually, I thought as it’s such a lovely day we’d have the picnic here in the park, and then, once it gets chilly, finish off with a cream tea on the Thames somewhere.”
“Sounds good to me.”
The Saville Gardens were nearby, and we walked the short distance skirting round the lake. Evie was definitely keyed up about something as she chatted happily about Mum and our sisters. I cast a quick glance at her as I took hold of one of the two picnic cool bags to carry. Yes, definitely; sparkle was the right word to describe my sister that day. I knew I couldn’t hurry Evie, though—she would tell me in her own good time.
We chose our spot with care: a small picnic table, vacant and sheltered by a copse of trees.
Evie had brought quite a spread, and we started on slices of smoked salmon filled with creamed horseradish and prawns hors d‘oeuvres, accompanied by a crisp white wine. I gaped at what she had put together for what I thought was to be a simple picnic. My scatterbrained sister was renowned for being idle and would normally have packed a few sandwiches and crisps and been done with it. This was a rare treat. I alternated sipping the Australian Riesling with a glass of water, as I needed to rehydrate after the race.
After the salmon, she produced some delicious cold chicken with a rice salad, and I couldn’t hold back any longer.
“So, you’ve said Mum and Darcy are okay, but what about you? You seem…different. Apart from all this,” I waved a hand over the food, “which is a delightful surprise and your new appearance, have you just been given a massive pay rise or something?”
She glanced away with a tiny smile, dimples appearing in her cheeks and pointed to a squirrel scampering down from a nearby tree. “Cute. Um, I’m fine, but I do have something to tell you. It might shock you at first.”
I flicked my gaze from the squirrel, which had ventured near enough to pinch a few crumbs, back to Evie. “Oh? Don’t tell me you’ve been offered a full sister post on your ward?”
She laughed. “Silly, they don’t want a part-timer in charge. Nor would I want to be. I’m happy with my position as it is. No, I’ve got a new boyfriend.”
“That’s great. What does he do? Does he live near you?”
“Fairly near. And the amazing thing is he’s a nurse, too.”
At that moment the sun went in behind a dark cloud, and I shivered as if someone had walked over my grave.
Chapter 3
My next first thought was why her, why Evie? And then I realised that if I had spoken out loud, she would have taken it the wrong way. But the coincidence was curious. Or was it? Was I drawing my own conclusions before I knew the facts? Everyone said how small the world had become, what with social media and flights everywhere, etcetera. No, perhaps it wasn’t that curious as both were single and of a similar age. All the same, I did wonder if she had engineered that day for some reason. Evie could be devious at times—a throwback to when she was a child. I recalled taking the blame for quite a few of her foolhardy escapades.
No, be serious. My thoughts were running away from me. There must be hundreds of male nurses working nearby.
“Really?”
“Moya, you might find this a bit strange, uncomfortable even.”
I forced my eyes to meet hers, knowing I was right. Oh ye gods, spare us. “Uncomfortable? Why would I? I’m pleased you’ve met someone.”
“Of course you are, as I would be if you met someone you really cared about. Only, the thing is…you know him.”
I expressed surprise. Opening my eyes wide and raising my eyebrows, I could have won an Oscar with the effort. “I do?”
She licked her bottom lip. “Well, to be accurate, you went out with him. It’s Martyn.”
“Martyn,” I repeated to gain time.
“Yes.” She nodded, and the rest of her words came out in a gabble. “Martyn Cousins. I know what you’re thinking…how odd this all is. But it just happened. We’ve been seeing each other for about three weeks now. The thing is he wants us all to meet later today. He says that he’s sure you won’t mind and that it’ll be a good thing for us to meet up.”
“Mmm, but he and I parted and not on very good terms,” I said.
“I know all about it.”
This time, my eyes truly were as big as saucers. “You do?”
She nodded eagerly. “Yes, but I know you’ll understand. You’ve had lots of boyfriends. I’m sure it was upsetting at the time when Martyn split up with you, but you’ve always got over it before. He said you were angry and said some nasty things, which he was sure you didn’t mean. It was just a bit of a shock for you, but he’s forgotten and forgiven you.”
I was speechless. She hurried on.
“Anyway, please for my sake. I want us all to be friends. One big happy family.”
I took in a huge lungful of air. “Honestly, Evie, I really don’t care about him. I never did. What I mean is, you’re welcome to him.”
She sat back and gazed at me with a slight frown. “Are you sure? You look a bit fierce.”
I shook my head and managed a smile, although it might have come out a bit sickly looking. “No really, I’m okay with it.”
“If you really are, then great. You see, Martyn thought you might still be a bit miffed, and he wanted today to be nice.”
“Today?” He knew about today.
“Yes,” She glanced at her watch before pouring some more wine into my glass. “He’s joining us.”
I knew my mouth dropped open as I gawked at her, and I must have looked a complete idiot when, seconds later, Martyn casually strolled into view on the path not more than twenty feet away from where we were sitting.
He raised a hand in greeting, and bent down to kiss Evie on the lips before saying anything. She gave a surprised squeak, turned and wrapped her arms around his neck. After what seemed an interminable length of time, they drew apart reluctantly, and she murmured something. Martyn smiled, nodded and looked across at me. His beam widened until it stretched across his face, and then, raising his arms, he walked round the picnic bench to my side.
“Moya,” he said. And before I had time to leap up from the wooden bench, he pressed his hands down upon my shoulders and smiled into my eyes. Evie would never have known the pressure which pinned me onto the seat.
“Hello, Moya.”
Without another word his mouth hovered near mine, and I realised with horror that he was about to kiss me. I managed to turn my head at the last moment, and his lips grazed against my cheek.
“It’s so good to see you again. You’re looking well. I’m presuming Evie has told you our good news?” He smiled gently at Evie, and she blushed in response.
“About you and her? Yes, of course she has, but you—”
“And you understand? Evie and I, well it just happened.”
“Yes, yes, I’ve already said so, haven’t I, Evie?” I heard Evie catch her breath, and I threw her a desperate look, which was entirely wasted, as she frowned at my reply. I wondered if I sounded as brusque to them as I did to myself. Damn!
“Look, it really is okay with me.” I smiled and looked from her back to Martyn.
“I know it’s awkward, but I know how big-hearted you are usually.”
“No, it’s not awkward, and I’m pleased for you both.”
I swear Martyn’s eyes misted over, and he covered Evie’s hand with his own. “See, honeybun. I said she’d be kind. She’s so like your mum, Moya is. Big-hearted and generous. She never bears a grudge.”
“Mum? What’s she got to do with this?” I knew Mum was scatty and charitable, but the thought of Martyn wheedling his way into her good books irritated me.
“Nothing, Moya. All Martyn means is, Mum invited us over for a meal a few days ago. She wanted to meet him, and they got on like a house on fire. Darcy was there, too, and even she seemed to like Martyn. You know how picky Darcy is.” As she spoke, she handed Martyn a plate and piled it with smoked-salmon canapés and a portion of chicken.
“Yeah, underneath all that black eye-liner and heavy jewellery, there’s a nice kid lurking inside.” Martyn hugged Evie to him with a grin.
I could imagine the four of them sitting round the dinner table exchanging banter and maybe discussing me. I froze suddenly. Evie said Martyn had forgotten our row and forgiven me. What the hell had he really said? The great euphoric feeling I had earlier that day, after my race, dissipated completely. The bastard had turned everything round.
“Actually, you’ve got it all wrong, Evie, our parting—”
“Don’t spoil a nice day, Moya. Look, Evie is being nice and understanding. Don’t let’s talk about what happened. It’s not important. Chill out and have another glass of wine.” He upended the bottle into my glass.
“I don’t want any more,” I grumbled in protest, glaring at him when he placed a warning hand on my wrist.
“Moya,” said Evie, leaning towards me with a begging look upon her face. “Martyn didn’t do anything or say anything wrong. He just told Mum what he thought was necessary. She had to know about you and Martyn sometime—you know, before he and I met.”
I stared at her face, which was full of concern for me. Her pretty eyes pleaded with me to accept and behave. I didn’t have the heart to tell her what a creepy little shit I really thought he was. I would never forgive him for stealing into my flat and going through my personal laptop files. Had he searched through my drawers and cupboards too? No, I couldn’t explain it all to Evie. Not then, not that day. Maybe when we two sisters were on our own, I could tell her the truth.
A feeling of lassitude settled like a damp mist over me.
“Of course she did. Sorry, I’m feeling tired after my run. Let’s finish our picnic. Anyway, here’s to you both,” I said, raising my glass in their direction. I took a sip, but as I replaced the glass back on the table, my hand shook so much I knocked it over.
“Oh, how clumsy. Sorry. It’s a good job it’s white and not red,” I cried in embarrassment as Evie and Martyn leapt up from their seats.
“No problem,” he said as he mopped up the spilt wine on the table with a serviette.
“It’s okay, I’ve got another bottle. Except that it’s red,” Evie said delving into one of the cool bags.
“Allow me.” Martyn took the bottle from her hands and reached for the bottle opener. “No harm’s been done, Moya. This red’s pretty good. We got it from the wine shop just round the corner, didn’t we, Evie? I like a cheeky little Merlot, and I know you do too, Moya.”
“Do I? Er, no more for me thanks.”
“Go on? A little red won’t hurt—it might mellow you,” Martyn said as he plunged the corkscrew in.
“No, really. I’ve got to drive home and I’ve had enough.”
“You’re not still worrying about whether it’s produced organically or not, are you?” He swung his gaze to Evie. “Honestly, Moya spent all our time together dithering about whether her diet was all wrong. I never knew what we were going to have to eat. Ace diet, GI, Five: Two. Your sister has a real compulsion for eating and drinking the right things, doesn’t she, honeybun?”
“Well, Moya has always been fussy about what she eats.”
“But it’s more than that, isn’t it?” He pressed on. “Moya frets about selecting, buying, preparing, cooking, ornamenting, and eventually consuming her food. You know, I’d say she’s bulimic as well as suffering from OCD.”
“Excuse me. She…I am sitting right here you know, and you’ve got it completely wrong.” I couldn’t help crying out in outrage at his words. “I do not worry that much. I just like experimenting with things and that includes diet. If you must know, I maintain that all aspects of people's needs, including psychological, physical and social, should be taken into account and seen as a whole. I don’t consider it unusual to want a complete holistic order throughout my life.”
“I hope you‘re not still worried about your weight…you don’t need to. You’re as slim as ever. Actually, you’re thinner now that I look closely at you. Your waist is trimmer and makes your bust more prominent. Wouldn’t you agree, Evie?”
Struggling to keep my temper, I bit my bottom lip.
“Yes, but then Moya has always had a lovely figure.” She answered in a tight little voice, and I flicked a glance her way, wondering if she guessed what Martyn was insinuating. He was with my breasts, and the memory made me want to squirm.
I thought back to Martyn’s little statement about bulimia and OCD, both mental disorders. He said he was a nurse, but the thought crossed my mind that he might have been a registered mental nurse. Sod it, I knew next to nothing about the man. The stuff I remembered was a bit thin on the ground…he said he was a nurse between placements. I never met any of his friends other than the one at the diving school. I hadn’t seen his flat, and I didn’t know anything of his past life apart from him saying he was an orphan.
I looked at my watch and wondered how soon I could get away. Evie must have noticed, as she immediately pulled out another plastic box from the cool bag and whipped off the lid with a flourish.
“Mini apple pies,” she said, with a pleased grin. “Martyn’s favourite.”
“Not quite…I prefer blackcurrant. I thought you knew.”
Evie’s mouth made a little moue of disappointment.
“But these do look scrummy, and I bet you spent ages making them for me, didn’t you, honeybun?”
Yuk! I was feeling queasy. “You never told me how you two met.”
Evie laughed. “It was quite bizarre, really. We literally bumped headlong into one another. It was my fault—I wasn’t looking where I was going, and suddenly there I was, sprawled on the pavement, broken eggs and shopping all around me. Martyn helped me pack everything up, apologising all the time, saying it was his fault, and then I noticed I had broken the heel on my shoe.”
“I couldn’t let a damsel in distress carry all that shopping.”
Evie flushed and giggled. “No, Martyn, you were lovely. Anyway, he insisted he carry all the plastic bags and asked me where my car was.”
“Not knowing Evie lived nearby,” Martyn said, helping himself to a second apple pie and taking a large bite.
“Once we reached my front door, I realised we hadn’t stopped chatting since bumping into one another. It seemed as if we’d known each other for ages.”
“I said I felt as if I knew Evie from long ago and we both laughed,” Martyn said, giving Evie a fond look.
“Yes. I replied I was just about to say the same thing. By then, it seemed natural to invite Martyn in for a cup of coffee. He stayed for lunch, and we went out that evening for dinner.”
“After that, we met every day, and here we are. All the time, I had this feeling Evie reminded me of someone, and one evening, it clicked. She mentioned her three sisters, including you, Moya. You can imagine how amazed we both were.”
Evie nodded her golden head, and again, I noticed how full of life she looked. My heart did a little jump, as I realised she had fallen headlong in love.
“Yes, surprised and a bit worried at first,” she said. “But I’m so pleased we’ve sorted it all out and you’re okay with everything.”
“Evie, I’m really pleased for you.”
She laughed and her eyes sparkled. “I’m so happy. As I said earlier, we’ve been dating for three weeks now, and we both feel the same. I know about you and Martyn…well, you know what I’m trying to say.”
“It’s fine. You’re in love and it’s really great.” Was it? Three weeks, about the same time he and I had been seeing each other. Was my elder sister really so blindly in love?
Without realising, I drank more of the wine Martyn had poured for me and nibbled at a fruit pastry. We—they—chatted, and I joined in with the obligatory yes or no, at the same time stealing covert looks at the pair of them: her so happy and he so smug. I could have slapped him.
The afternoon autumn chill descended, and with relief, I stretched, said that my stiff muscles ached and that I needed a deep hot bath. I cried off going to a pub with them and out for dinner afterwards, saying it was time I headed home.
We packed up the picnic and walked back to the car park. Evie said she was desperate for a pee and disappeared into the ladies.
I could feel Martyn’s eyes travelling over my body as I unlocked my car and threw my bag inside. I straightened and turned, only to find him so unbelievably close, I could smell his cologne.
“That was an amazing coincidence, wasn’t it?”
“What was?”
“You bumping into my sister after I’d broken up with you. How did you find her?”
“What? Oh, Moya, Moya. Don’t be like that.” His voice changed to a soft purr. “I was merely being a gentleman and helping a lady with her broken shopping bags. Surely you’re not suggesting I orchestrated it? She bumped into me, don’t forget.”
“Hmm. So you said.”
“And no, I don’t believe in coincidences. Kismet or fate, maybe”
“What?”
“Why wouldn’t I fall in love with a beautiful woman? Especially if she looks like you. Older yes, but in the full flush of beauty.”
What type of sick joke was he playing? He hadn’t been in love with me. He used me and my flat because we were convenient at the time.
“If you’re playing some sick idea of a joke with her, don’t. She’s been through a rough time and deserves some happiness.”
“I know, she told me. And yes, I’ll make her happy. I already have. We’re like two peas in a pod already.” His mouth hovered unbearably close to mine, and I backed away as far as I could until I could feel the hard metal of my car door close behind me.
“Just because I broke it off with you, don’t use her to get back at me.”
He stepped back with a look of horror and shock on his face.
“Moya! I thought you knew me better.”
No, you sick fuck. That’s the problem. I don’t know you at all. And perhaps worst of all, neither does Evie.
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