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The sea was quiet, the silence broken only by the sound of their footsteps and the soft slap of the waves on the shingle, the stones settling with a little whisper as the waves receded. Out at sea some gulls were wheeling over a fishing boat, and they could hear the faint putter of its engine in the distance.
‘Gosh, it’s beautiful. I can see why you love it here,’ Emily said with a sigh, and he grunted softly.
‘Jo couldn’t. She flatly refused to live here with me, even though she hadn’t said anything negative when the job came up and I started looking at houses, and then of course it was too late, I was committed to the move and there was nothing I could do about it.’
She turned her head so she could see his face. ‘Do you think she really hated it and didn’t want to live here, or didn’t want to live with you because she’d realised she didn’t love you? You’re old enough to be pragmatic, but she’s not, she’s still young enough to be dreaming of a happy ever after, which is probably why she’s gone off chasing rainbows with the dude in the campervan. And maybe you moving here just gave her an out?’
He sighed and scrubbed a hand through his hair, dislodging the sand that had finally dried in it. ‘I have no idea. Maybe. I knew she was a bit of a hippy at heart, but I wouldn’t have said she was manipulative so I think you could be right. She was probably just out of her depth. You know she nearly didn’t have Matilda? She said at the time she wasn’t ready to be a mother, and judging by the way she walked off last week and left Tilly without a backward glance, she was right.’
‘So, what did your parents say about that?’ Em asked curiously. ‘I take it you’ve told them.’
He laughed, but there wasn’t a trace of humour in it. ‘Nothing new. My mother told me it was no more than I deserved, and my father gave me another lecture on contraception and what he called my indiscriminate sexual habits—What?’ he asked, shooting her a dirty look when she laughed.
She tried to straighten her face. ‘Well, it was high time someone said it,’ she pointed out. ‘You’re a bit of an alley cat, Jake.’
‘I am not!’ Her eyebrows shot up, and he frowned. ‘Seriously, Em, I’m not, at least not anymore, and I have no idea how she got pregnant.’
‘You need me to explain?’ she said, and then stopped walking, mostly because she was laughing so hard she couldn’t breathe.
‘I didn’t mean it that way,’ he growled.
‘So what did you mean?’ she asked when she could speak. ‘Because you can’t have been that careful or she wouldn’t have got pregnant. Was she on the Pill?’
‘No, and we were careful! We used a condom every single time, and as far as I know none of them failed—not that it’s any of your business,’ he added, glowering at her and trying not to laugh.
She wasn’t even trying. ‘Well, clearly one of them failed—or else she sabotaged you.’
‘Why would she do that?’
She fell into step beside him again, giving him a disbelieving look. ‘Oh, come on, Jake. You’re a good catch.’
‘So why didn’t she catch me? Why not insist that I marry her? God knows I offered.’
‘She didn’t need to. You were supporting her anyway, and maybe by then she’d realised she didn’t love you.’
He shook his head. ‘No, she’s not like that. She’s not organised enough to be premeditated.’
She stopped walking again and turned to look at him, thoughtful now. ‘I don’t know, Jake. She stole your money and defaulted on her rent, so she obviously planned that. And if she said it was an accident when she got pregnant, you’d believe her. Accidents happen all the time, and people get carried away in the heat of the moment and fall into bed without thinking. It has been known, and it wouldn’t be the first time you’d done it.’
She knew that all too well. She vividly remembered the time they’d come really, really close to making love...
‘Can we please stop discussing my sex life?’ he muttered, and she wondered if he was actually blushing or if it was just that he’d caught the sun.
‘Well, at least you have one. I can’t even remember what it was like,’ she said with painful honesty.
‘Ah, come on, Em, you and Pete were married for years!’
‘And most of the time he was too busy trying not to die,’ she pointed out.
All trace of laughter was gone from her voice now, and Jake stopped walking and pulled her into his arms with a ragged sigh, resting his cheek against her hair.
‘Ah, hell, I’m sorry, Em,’ he murmured apologetically. ‘I shouldn’t have said that, it’s none of my business. It must have been so tough for you both, living on a knife-edge throughout the whole of your marriage.’
She eased away from him and started walking again, somehow uncomfortable talking about Pete while she was standing in Jake’s arms. ‘Not all of it. Some of it was OK, especially after he got the all-clear, but I always knew in my bones it couldn’t last.’
‘So why did you decide to have a baby if you thought he was going to die?’ he asked, finally asking the question that must have been bugging him ever since she’d told him she was pregnant and Pete was dying.
She sighed, her shoulders lifting in a little shrug. ‘Because I thought he would live to see it. Pete had always wanted children, so had I, and my clock was ticking. He’d banked some sperm as soon as he was diagnosed, before he had the first chemo, so it was sitting there waiting, and I felt if we didn’t get on with it I’d have left it too late and missed my chance, but I never dreamt it would be over so soon for him. That was a real shock, when he went downhill so fast and I realised we’d left it too late.’
‘It must have been. Do you regret it?’
‘What, marrying Pete, or having Zach?’
‘I meant having Zach,’ he said, although he must have wondered if she’d regretted her marriage to a man she’d known was probably dying, but maybe he felt he’d been intrusive enough.
She smiled down at the sleeping baby snuggled up in the buggy, her heart filling. ‘Not for a single second. It hasn’t been easy, and I’ve often been scared that I couldn’t cope, but no, I’ve never regretted it. He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Well, apart from you, of course, but that’s different.’
She flashed him a smile, and he reached out and took her hand and squeezed it, but he didn’t let go, just kept her hand there in his as they strolled along side by side, their fingers loosely linked.
It was only when the path narrowed again that he slipped his hand out of hers to go on ahead with the buggy, and she curled her fingers tightly into her palm and felt oddly bereft.
* * *
Jake rang her on Tuesday morning to say he’d had an email inviting him for interview at nine-thirty on Thursday.
‘Gosh, that was quick.’
‘It was. Ben promised he’d hustle it. Check your emails,’ he said, but she was already doing it and her heart was racing.
‘Yes, they want to see me at ten-fifteen. And they said allow until one. Ouch.’
‘Mmm. I think that’s because they want us one at a time, and then together.’
‘Can you get the time off?’ she asked, hooking Zach out of the bottom pan drawer and sliding it shut with her leg. ‘Because taking these two to an interview could be interesting, although we’ll need cover for the joint interview anyway. What are we going to do about that?’
‘I’ll sort it with Ben—he’ll need cover, too, and I’ll talk to the nursery,’ he promised. ‘I spoke to them about Matilda the other day, and they had some capacity then, so hopefully they can squeeze them in. Right, got to go, I’m due in Theatre. In fact, why don’t you come up here and talk to the staff at the nursery anyway, because this is for Zach, too, and it might give the children a chance to get familiarised before we have to leave them there—assuming they still have space.’
‘And failing that?’
She could almost see him shrug. ‘Then I’ll ask Ben’s wife Daisy if she can help out for the interviews as a one-off. She’s lovely and Tils knows her, but in the long term we may have to find somewhere else.’
‘OK. I’ll take them up there now and see. I’ll text you the answer.’
* * *
She spent the next hour at the nursery, and although Matilda dragged her everywhere she wanted to go, she did at least explore the garden and have a go on the play equipment, and Zach seemed happy in the sandpit so long as Emily sat on the edge. Then she found the water trough, and that was it.
‘Right, Tilly, we need to go now and see the ducks,’ she said, and to her amazement Matilda shook her head.
‘No. I playing.’
She was pouring water from one container to another and getting utterly drenched, but she seemed totally content, and Emily pulled out her phone and took a picture and sent it to Jake.
Hallelujah! he texted back, and she smiled.
Hallelujah, indeed. For now, at least.
* * *
Predictably Jake rang her in his lunch break to find out more.
‘It was great,’ she told him. ‘I saw Caitlin, she said you’d spoken to her, which was really useful because I didn’t have to explain anything in front of the children.’
‘How about security?’
‘It’s excellent, and they seem to have wonderful facilities. And they have space, which is a miracle, apparently, but someone’s just left so we got lucky.’
‘What did Matilda make of it at first?’
‘She was a bit wary, but after she’d found her feet a little she loved it, and so did Jake. We played for ages, and the other children seemed happy, which was good to see. I’ve been quite worried about it because I’ve never left Zach with anyone except Pete’s parents, and that’s only been for an hour or so to have my hair cut or go to the dentist, but I don’t think I need to worry about him at all or you about Matilda.’
‘No, thanks for sending me that photo, it’s delicious.’
‘It is, but I had to drag them away. Neither of them wanted to leave. I had to bribe them with feeding the ducks.’
He chuckled. ‘Yeah, the ducks can be quite handy. Well, that’s brilliant. Thanks. So are we all set for Thursday?’
‘Yes—except I need to go home this evening and grab something to wear for my interview that might not be a total disgrace. I can do that after you get home once they’re in bed.’
‘OK. I’ll try not to be late.’
* * *
It was only a flying visit to collect some clothes, because all she’d brought with her was a few pairs of jeans and an armful of tops, and that wasn’t going to impress anyone. Not that she had much at home to choose from that would still fit her since she’d had Zach, but there had to be something.
She parked on the drive, went in and shut the front door, and then stood for a second while the silence closed in around her. She realised it was the first time she’d been alone in the house since Zach was born, and it felt odd. Odd, and strangely unsettling. And, to her surprise, although the house she’d shared with Pete for so long was familiar, it didn’t feel like home. It just felt wrong somehow, so she raided her wardrobe and left without lingering.
‘That was quick. Did you find what you wanted?’ Jake asked her when she got home—home?—and she nodded, going into the sitting room and perching on the arm of the sofa.
‘Yes, I suppose so. It’ll do.’ She frowned at the television. ‘Are you seriously watching Titanic?’
‘Oh, I was just killing time till you got back, really. There’s not much on.’
‘Titanic made you cry.’
‘It made you cry, too, if I remember rightly,’ he reminded her drily.
‘Surely not.’ She peered at the bag beside him. ‘Is that popcorn?’
‘It might be.’
She felt her mouth twitch and bit her lips to trap the smart retort. ‘What flavour?’
‘Wasabi and ginger.’
Her mouth dropped open. ‘You’re kidding,’ she said, and his eyes crinkled.
‘I’m not, they do make it, but it’s salted caramel.’
She couldn’t help the laugh. ‘I knew you wouldn’t eat anything that weird. Give me five seconds to change and I’ll be back. I’ll have tea, please—and don’t finish the popcorn!’
She ran upstairs, grinning and ignoring the muttering she left behind, and by the time she was back in her PJs there were two mugs of tea steaming on the coffee table, Titanic paused on the television and Jake with his hand back in the bag of popcorn.
‘Hey, get out of that, we’re sharing, remember?’ she said, dropping down on the sofa beside him and reaching for the bag.
‘Say please.’ He held it out of reach, laughing, and she lunged across him, trying to make a grab for it and digging her elbow into his ribs by accident.
‘Ouch! Get off me!’ He laughed, holding the bag further out of reach, but she made another lunge for it and grabbed it victoriously, and their eyes met and something weird happened.
They froze, eyes locked, and for a paralysing second she thought he was going to kiss her, but then he removed his hand from the bag and looked away, and she retreated hastily into the corner with the popcorn, wondering if her cheeks were as red as they felt, and he picked up the remote without a word and restarted the movie.
* * *
‘Popcorn?’
What, and risk another highly charged wrestling match? He’d only just got his body back under control. But the bag was just there, so he dug into it and took a handful.
‘I hate this bit,’ she said, when the ship started to list and fill with water, and she wriggled up against his side, her hand tucked through his arm as if nothing had happened.
Another layer of torment? He could still feel the warm softness of her body under his hands, feel the silk of her skin, smell the scent of her as she’d squirmed giggling against him.
How was he supposed to feel? To act? She might be just a friend, but she was a beautiful woman. Of course he’d noticed, but apart from that embarrassing blip fifteen years ago he’d spent twenty years ignoring it, keeping the lid firmly on the box.
And she’d either done the same, which he doubted because she frankly wasn’t that good at hiding her feelings, or she’d genuinely felt nothing more for him than friendship. Well, not in that way, anyhow, and even if she did there was no way he was ripping the lid off the box at this point in their relationship, not with so much riding on it.
He felt her head settle on his shoulder, then after a few minutes, as the story came to its inescapable and heartrending end, her grip on his arm tightened reflexively and he heard a tiny, stifled sniff.
‘You’re a softie, do you know that?’ he said, resting his head against hers, and she pulled away and sniffed harder, grabbing the remote from the table and turning the television off.
‘You’re such a hypocrite. You snivelled just as much as me in the cinema.’
‘I was nineteen, and anyway, it’s sad!’
‘You were a softie,’ she told him, swivelling round to look at him. ‘And you still are!’
‘I am not!’
‘So what’s this?’ she asked victoriously, lifting her hand and touching a finger to the outer corner of his eye. She lifted it to her lips, flicking her tongue out to taste it, and he stifled a groan. ‘Tears, Stratton! Actual, real tears! So don’t you go giving me grief!’
She was just there, mere inches away, hands on her hips and laughing at him while her eyes still sparkled with her own tears, and the urge to lean in and kiss that sassy smile off her face nearly finished him.
But not quite.
He took her by the shoulders, eased her away from him and stood up, sending a shower of popcorn crumbs onto the carpet. ‘Right, enough nonsense, it’s time for bed,’ he said briskly. ‘I’ve got a long day tomorrow, and we need to rehearse our interview technique in the evening.’
‘Really?’
‘Yeah, really. Come on. Bedtime.’
He reached out a hand and hauled her to her feet, then just because he couldn’t help himself he reeled her in and hugged her.
Just briefly, just enough to mess with his dreams, but they were probably going to be X-rated anyway after that wrestling match over the popcorn. Dammit. He let her go, screwed up the empty bag and picked up the mugs as she headed for the stairs.
‘I’ll see you in the morning,’ he said, and flicked off the light and went into the kitchen for a quiet moment alone to gather his ragged composure and have a stern word with his heart, because the tears she’d seen in his eyes had had nothing to do with the film and everything to do with his feelings for a woman he couldn’t allow himself to love.
Not if this job share was going to stand the slightest chance of working.
CHAPTER FOUR
THEY SPENT WEDNESDAY evening interviewing each other, thinking up all the horrible questions they could be asked and trying to answer them coherently.
How would they divide their time? What if it didn’t work? How about sick leave, holidays—would they cover for each other on an overtime basis? Did they have an agreement to share the tasks equally and equitably? What if one of them wanted out? Medical questions, too, because Nick Jarvis, the husband of Liv who’d delivered Zach, had been grilled by Ben when he’d come back to work here the year before and he’d warned them not to expect Ben to play nice.
‘Enough!’ she said, jumping to her feet and clutching her hair when midnight was looming and her head was ready to explode. ‘If we don’t stop talking about this, I’m going to be awake all night and I won’t be able to string two words together. It’s bad enough that I’m going to look like a bag lady.’
He started to laugh. ‘Don’t be ridiculous! Why will you look like a bag lady?’
‘Why? Because none of my decent clothes fit me properly now—and I can’t even remember when I last wore a skirt.’
‘So wear trousers.’
‘I can’t get into them either, they won’t do up because I’ve changed shape and put on weight. The only thing I can get into is a stretchy pencil skirt I had when I was first pregnant, and a jacket that won’t quite meet. And frankly, Jake, that’s not adequate!’
He laughed again, but his eyes were tender and made her feel strange. ‘Em, you’re gorgeous. You couldn’t look like a bag lady if you tried—’
‘Don’t patronise me! I don’t look gorgeous, and I certainly don’t look professional. At the outside I’ll get by.’
‘Hey, you’ll be fine,’ he assured her, serious now. ‘They want to talk to you about the job, not check out your dress sense.’
She growled under her breath. ‘It’s not about them, it’s about me. I need to feel professional and well presented to give me confidence, and I’ve worn nothing but stretchy skinny jeans and baggy tops covered in baby goo for the last nine months!’
‘Oh, Em.’ He laughed softly, and getting to his feet, he pulled her into his arms and hugged her hard. His chest was broad and solid, and the scent of his skin drifted over her, warm and familiar and oddly disturbing.
‘You’ll be great,’ he murmured, his low voice rumbling in his chest beneath her ear and adding to the disturbing sensations. ‘Don’t worry. It’ll be fine, you’ll wow them. Now go to bed. I’ll wake you in the morning so you’ve got time to get showered before I have to leave, OK?’
‘OK.’
He let her go, the warm, safe embrace broken, and she kissed his cheek and went up to bed, too tired to worry any more. What would be would be, and worrying wasn’t going to make a blind bit of difference.
* * *
Jake watched her go, then stared sightlessly out of the window into the night.
He hoped he’d managed to reassure her, but there was nobody to reassure him, and so much—so much—was hanging on these interviews.
Tomorrow had the potential to change the entire course of his life. He just hoped it would be for the better—for all of them.
His mind churning, he tidied up the kitchen, turned out the lights and went upstairs. Her bedroom door was open, the light on, and as he walked past it to check on Matilda he saw her sitting up in bed in those cute pyjamas that made him think of things he had no business thinking about.
And it didn’t help that she was feeding Zach.
She patted the mattress beside her, and he went in and perched on the edge of the bed.
‘What’s up?’
‘I’m just nervous. It will be all right, won’t it?’ she asked, a worried frown puckering her forehead. ‘It has to be.’
He shrugged. ‘I hope so. We’re well prepared. We can’t do any more than we have.’
‘No, I guess not.’
She eased the sleepy baby off her nipple, and he looked away hastily, his eyes falling instead on a small double picture frame on her bedside table.
‘Could you hold him for me, please? I need the bathroom and then I need to change his nappy.’
‘Sure.’ He stood up and took Zach from her, his eyes drawn again to the photos under the bedside light as she left the room.
They were both pictures of Em and Pete, but they were very different. The first had been taken on their wedding day, laughter shining in their eyes; the second looked like a selfie, with her propped up beside him on a bed, Pete holding something on his chest. He peered closer, and the little blur became clear.
‘Oh, Em,’ he breathed, emotion clogging his throat. The only image Pete would ever see of his son, his twelve-week scan photo, was resting on his heart. Em must have been taken the selfie on the day of the scan, less than a week before Pete died.
He stared at it silently, the image blurring. It was so cruel, so unfair. He’d promised Pete on his deathbed that he’d look after Emily and the baby and keep them safe, and he said it again now, his mouth moving silently as Emily came back into the room.
‘Thanks,’ she said, taking the now sleeping baby from his arms. She put him down on the bed, then turned back to Jake as he stood up and slipped her arms round him and rested her head on his chest with a sigh.
‘We will be OK, won’t we, Jake? We can do this, can’t we?’
He dragged his eyes off the photo and tried to stop thinking about the feel of her body against his. ‘Of course we can, and it’ll all be fine, one way or another. Go on, go to bed, get some sleep.’
Her arms tightened briefly and then, as if the hug wasn’t enough to finish him off, she tilted her head and touched her lips to his cheek. Her scent curled around him, the soft touch of her skin, the warmth of her lips, the fullness of her body pressed against him not helping at all.
He dropped his arms and stepped back, blew the sleeping baby a kiss and walked to the door. As he turned to shut it, the photo caught his gaze again.
He closed the door, checked Matilda and went into his own room, shutting the door firmly between him and temptation.
What on earth had he let himself in for? And he’d told Emily to be sure she was doing the right thing? If it hadn’t been for his promise to Pete, he’d tell Emily he couldn’t do this and he’d find another way, but he couldn’t, because he’d promised to look after her and her baby, and she needed this job share every bit as much as he did. He’d just have to grit his teeth and get on with it.
Assuming they got the job share, which they wouldn’t if he didn’t get some sleep so he could think straight tomorrow.
But sleep was a long time coming, because every time he closed his eyes he saw the haunting image of a dying man, chiding him for his hypocrisy.
* * *
Nick had been right.
The interviews were thorough, rigorous and didn’t cut either of them any slack, but somehow they got through them, and after the joint interview they were sent out so the board could discuss the results.
There was a small waiting area with chairs grouped around a low table with a pile of magazines on it, and as they sat there Emily rested her head on his shoulder and sighed.
‘I hope I didn’t let you down,’ she mumbled. ‘I didn’t know what they wanted from me half the time. I probably talked rubbish.’
He slid his arm round her shoulders and hugged her. ‘It can’t have been any worse than mine, and I thought we did all right in the joint interview.’