Читать книгу The Missing Wife - Sam Carrington - Страница 15

‘Mum, where’ve you been? Come on, the food is out. It’s the most food I’ve seen in ages.’ Emily’s eyes were wide as she took Louisa’s arm, dragging her towards a long table to the side of the room filled with a buffet-style feast.

‘Oh, sorry, love. Just had to get some fresh air, it’s all been a bit overwhelming.’ Her tongue felt funny: tingly and enlarged. She worried she was slurring her words.

‘I bet. I did tell Dad it wasn’t a great idea – that you were dreading being forty so a bloody party drawing attention to the fact would only make matters worse.’

‘Language, Emily. But thanks.’ Louisa put her arm around her daughter and pulled her in close. She realised it was the first moment of real closeness they’d had since Noah’s birth. Louisa had always felt lucky to have such a good relationship with Emily; they shared a closer bond than she’d ever had with her own mother. There’d been times when Brian had commented they were more like sisters: chatting about the latest films and TV programmes, gossiping and going clothes shopping together most weekends. Louisa hoped those moments would return once she’d got through the awkward early months with a new baby.

She turned her face towards Emily and bent to kiss her cheek. ‘You were right,’ Louisa whispered in her ear. As she lifted her head again, her balance faltered, and she had to hold on to Emily to keep herself upright.

‘What’s the matter?’

‘Lack …’ Louisa took a slow, deep breath in and out. ‘Lack of food. Blood sugar’s low I think.’

‘Dad!’ Emily’s voice was shrill in Louisa’s ear. Damn. Now everyone was looking over at her. But it wasn’t Brian who came to her side.

‘Are you okay?’ Oliver had obviously been right behind her the whole time.

‘I’m fine. Emily’s just making a fuss. I’ll take these roasties and sit down for a bit. I’ll be all right.’

‘I’m not fussing, Mum. You looked as though you were about to faint.’

‘Don’t worry, Emily. I’ll take her, you go find your dad.’ Oliver’s dark eyes found Louisa’s – the intensity in them was one thing she hadn’t forgotten about the past, but the strong arm she felt around her waist was something new. He’d always been fit, but the thickness in his arms now was clearly the result of regular weights. Her heart picked up speed. She hated herself for it.

Oliver sat her down, placing the plate of food in front of her before sitting down himself.

‘How have you been?’

‘For the past twenty-two years? How long have you got?’

He gave a quick, nasal laugh. ‘I guess it’s been a long time. How about you tell me over lunch one day?’

‘God, Oliver,’ Louisa said, shaking her head in disbelief. The same slick Oliver who’d been the centre of her world for two years before he left her in their small town while he escaped to the University of York – the opposite end of the country – to do something with his life and ‘be something; someone important’. She wondered what, or who, he’d become, but she wasn’t going to ask.

‘Why are you at my surprise party?’

‘You mean apart from the opportunity to meet up with old friends?’ He cast his eyes around the room, but clearly not spotting any of those said friends, returned his attention to her. ‘I’ve just moved back here, temporarily at least, to oversee a new business project.’

‘Right.’ Louisa didn’t want to get into a conversation about what precisely this business was; she didn’t want any conversation really.

‘And, well, if I’m honest, I’ve never stopped thinking about you, Lou-Lou.’

She straightened, her muscles tensing, her lips pursed. ‘Don’t call me that.’

‘Sorry, old habits.’ He grinned. Louisa looked at his face properly for the first time. The square jawline, once smooth, was now dotted with stubble. It suited him. He still had black hair, but the hairline was higher up and less defined at the crown and temples than it’d been when he was eighteen. There were crinkles at the corners of his eyes, but they weren’t deep like Brian’s crow’s feet – somehow, Oliver’s made him appear distinguished. Rugged. He’d practically been a boy when he left. Now Louisa was sitting opposite a man. She didn’t know him anymore, but the spark that had drawn her to him at college alighted again now. Despite her mixed feelings, she was still attracted to Oliver Dunmore’s charm and good looks.

Louisa knew she had to bring herself back to reality. She thought about the woman standing beside Oliver on the stairs. ‘So, you’re married?’

‘Yes, but not for long,’ he said, matter-of-factly.

‘Oh, I’m sorry …’

He tilted his head back laughing. ‘No, we’re not separating. I meant she’s not been my wife for long. Married last year.’

Louisa’s stomach dropped. She urged herself to get a grip.

It didn’t matter if he was married, so was she.

Louisa’s gaze bounced from person to person around the room, searching for Emily and Brian. She needed them to interrupt this encounter, give her an excuse to get away. The food on the plate Oliver had put in front of her looked unappetising. It would be physically impossible to consume solids right now; she’d choke on every mouthful. Her pleasant, relaxing night away had rapidly turned into a nightmare.

‘Look, I’d best do the rounds, you know – mingle a bit seeing as all these people are apparently here for me.’ If Brian wasn’t coming to save the day, then Louisa had to excuse herself. ‘Thanks for coming. It was … well, good to see you,’ she managed. On trembling legs, Louisa got up and walked across to the nearest table, a fake smile in place to meet and greet her non-friends.

‘You’re doing great,’ Tiff said as she handed Louisa a bottle.

‘Bloody hell, Tiff – what’s this now? Lager? I’ve had far too much already.’

‘Nonsense. We used to put away loads more than this.’

‘But I haven’t—’

‘You haven’t got to worry about Noah,’ she cut in, ‘and I’m reliably informed you’ve expressed enough milk to feed all the babies in Devon. Let your hair down, woman!’

Louisa conceded. She had no strength to argue and couldn’t be bothered to correct Tiff’s memory of them drinking loads. It was always Tiff, not Louisa, who had got drunk. But if having more drink now helped get her through the rest of the party and then sleep solidly for eight hours, she’d take it.

An hour passed with Louisa managing to mingle with a few people, passing the time with basic-level chat, mainly consisting of telling stories about the exploits of their respective children. She’d lost count of how many drinks she’d consumed but she guessed it’d been too many judging by her blurring vision and the reduction in her ability to balance – even while sitting. Her swaying body was beginning to make her feel motion sick.

‘I’ll be back in a bit.’ Her mouth had begun to water as a wave of sickness rocked her. Louisa made her excuses and left the table.

The grass felt tickly and cool under her feet as she walked.

Where was she?

And where were her shoes?

Her handbag was over her shoulder, though. Good, she hadn’t lost that.

She stopped walking and pulled at it, trying to find the zip. Her fingers finally found the little metal pull. She reached inside. The bag dropped to the ground. Louisa’s eyes couldn’t focus well enough, her right hand swooping several times but failing to pick it up. She’d get it in a minute. She had the packet, at least.

A voice came from behind her.

‘Can I blag one of them off you?’

Louisa turned unsteadily to face the person who’d asked but she was still staring down at the cigarettes as she blinked several times in a vain attempt to clear her vision. She shook the packet, not trusting her eyes. Damn. Only one. She thought she’d only smoked five. She didn’t want to give her last one to a stranger.

As she looked up and her eyes finally focused, an image flashed in front of her. It wasn’t like the other ones she’d experienced; this one made each of the tiny hairs on her body tingle and stand erect. She lowered her head again, avoiding eye contact.

‘Yeah, go ahead.’ A fear consumed Louisa as she held out the packet containing the single cigarette. This was no stranger; she was sure it was someone she used to know.