Читать книгу Wedding Bells at Butterfly Cove: A heartwarming romantic read from bestselling author Sarah Bennett - Sarah Bennett, Sarah Bennett - Страница 14

Chapter Five

If anyone had asked her two weeks previously, Kiki would’ve told them she was an honest person. She’d never learned the art of lying, even as a self-defence mechanism. If she’d taken to heart the lessons in deceit her mother had demonstrated to her, perhaps things might have turned out differently. But no, Kiki had had to be the one to try and see the best in everyone, to build bridges and mend fences, taking on the blame more often than not in the process. How she’d envied Mia’s determination and Nee’s fiery spirit. When they’d been dishing out backbone, Kiki had somehow stood in the wrong queue.

The change, when it came, was so sudden, so surprising to her given all the times she’d turned the other cheek, she understood what people meant when they talked about reaching ‘breaking point’. Even at his worst, when the words he spat wounded her deeper than the occasional slap or punch, she had assumed Neil loved her. A twisted, ugly kind of love, but love just the same. So, she’d convinced herself that trying a little harder, finding another excuse for him when he had none of his own to give, would nurture their stunted relationship into something beautiful.

But she was like the little pig in the storybook, building her house of love from straw, stacking the fragile stalks into piles to be blown down again and again. Fear, doubt, and not a little jealousy had prevented her from examining why Mia’s relationship with Jamie had been forged in brick and stone, solid enough to stand against everything except the cruelties of fate. She listened instead to the other mothers at the school gate, who moaned about their husbands and convinced herself all relationships had troubles.

Two words.

Two words had been all it took for the scales to fall from her eyes. Two stupid little words. Two precious little words she’d tucked away in her heart the first time Neil had whispered them into the ear of an innocent, lovestruck girl. My Helen. Having been raised on the tales of the Ancient Greek heroes, there was only one Helen. The woman so beautiful that men had burned the world for her. When Neil had likened her to that mythical siren, it had turned her head and won her completely. Two words meant only for her, she’d assumed until she’d read those bloody awful emails and seen the truth—her husband was a liar, his declaration of true love nothing more than a tawdry cliché designed to get her, and God only knew how many other women, into his bed.

And so, for the past two weeks, she’d smiled her way through the frantic preparations for Neil’s trip, washing, ironing and packing his clothes. Not a word of dissent had passed her lips as she collected the lists of books he left her, marking the sections that would most help with his research. It was like the old days, when she’d given up her own studies to help him through his PhD. Only this was no labour of love. Volunteering to help him gave her the perfect excuse to spend precious hours in his study without raising suspicion.

For every piece of information she prepared for him, she squirreled away one of her own. Passwords, account details, balances; all the things she’d been ‘too stupid’ to deal with, according to Neil—she made them her own. For every shirt of his she neatly folded, she packed something belonging to the kids into the boot of her car. Like the little mouse everyone believed her to be, she burrowed and sneaked around, a dull little thing, not worthy of notice. Soon, the little mouse would roar.

Being underestimated by everyone had turned out to be the perfect cover. Clad in her usual tidy uniform of a matching skirt and blouse, hair rolled into a discreet bun at the nape of her neck, she sat on a visitor’s chair in the school office and waited for the head teacher to be free. She clenched her fingers around the handle of the bag resting in her lap to prevent herself from fiddling with the hem of her skirt.

‘She shouldn’t be too much longer.’ The secretary offered an apologetic glance at the clock on the wall as the minute hand clicked loudly to mark quarter past the hour.

All those years of being subjected to her mother’s play-acting were finally paying off. Kiki pictured Vivian supine on the small couch beneath her window, a soft blanket over her legs, and an empty glass resting on the table beside her. ‘Mummy needs her special drink, darling. I’ve got such a terrible pain in my head.’

Kiki gripped her handbag until her knuckles turned white. With hindsight, the catch in her mother’s voice, the flutter of her hand as it gestured to her glass, had been a performance worthy of the stage. To a worried six-year-old girl, though, it had been all too real. Vivian could even cry on demand—nothing too drastic in case it spoiled her delicate complexion, just enough for a few tears to shimmer on her lashes as she whispered, ‘You want to help me, don’t you, Kiki? You want to be a good girl for Mummy.’

Swallowing the bad taste in her mouth, Kiki fixed her mind on her end goal and let her voice drop almost to a whisper. ‘I hope not. We still have so much to put in place.’ She returned the woman’s sympathetic smile with just the right amount of wavering in her own. Vivian at her manipulative best couldn’t beat the performance she’d been laying on since she’d hurried into the office. Angela Baines was a pleasant enough woman, but a notorious gossip—always had been. If you wanted a rumour to race around the playground, a word dropped in her ear was all it took.

Angela had lapped up Kiki’s tale with alacrity. A contemporary of theirs, she remembered the details of Jamie’s death, ‘so young, such a tragedy’. It hadn’t taken much to convince her Mia was struggling to come to terms with it still. Swallowing down the lump of guilt, Kiki had taken her sister’s name in vain, dropping enough vague hints for Angela to fill in the gaps and assume Kiki had no choice but to carry out a mercy dash to the coast before the very worst happened. She could only hope Mrs Wilson was as gullible.

The inner door swung open and Kiki stood. She paused to place a silent hand of thanks on Angela’s shoulder, and to accept the returning pat of sympathy, before following Mrs Wilson into her inner sanctum. Nothing appeared to have changed in the twenty years since she and her sisters had been pupils here. The carefully drawn pictures pinned to the noticeboard were different, but the sentiment behind them struck a chord of memory.

Following Kiki’s gaze, Mrs Wilson cast a glance over her shoulder. ‘I had one of Nee’s drawings up there back in the day. It’s in the cupboard somewhere. Perhaps I should dig it out and boost my retirement savings.’

Kiki allowed herself to smile. She couldn’t image Mrs Wilson cashing in on any of her beloved mementos. ‘You might need to hang on to it for a few more years, but we have great hopes for her. She’s studying in New York, did you hear?’

‘No, I hadn’t. How exciting for her.’ Mrs Wilson sat back and folded her arms. ‘I understand Mia is making a new start for herself.’

Kiki stared down at her lap. Here was the perfect opening she needed, a few choice words and she could conclude her business. Another item ticked off her secret to-do list. So what if she couldn’t look the woman in the eye and lie? Kiki Jackson, the timid little mouse, rarely did eye contact at the best of times. She opened her mouth, then closed it again when the words stuck in her throat. It didn’t seem right, to diminish her sister when she had shown nothing but courage in the face of so much suffering. Maybe there was no need for lies.

‘She is. I need to go and stay with her and, with Neil going overseas for work, I can’t leave the children. I know it’s not long until the holidays, but it can’t wait. A person can only endure so much before they buckle under the weight of things. A person’s life shouldn’t feel like it’s over before they’re thirty, right? It shouldn’t be impossible for a person to ask their family to help them correct a mistake.’ Words spoken from the heart, they could be interpreted by the listener in myriad ways.

The springs in Mrs Wilson’s chair creaked as she shifted around, and Kiki risked a quick glance up through her lashes. The older woman rested her arms on the blotter in front of her and folded her fingers together. ‘No, my dear. Family should come first, above all things. If you need to join your sister, then I’m sure we can reach some accommodation with Matthew’s schooling. We try to wind the children down over the last couple of weeks before the holidays. I’ll consult his teacher and we’ll forward you anything he needs to catch up on.’

Kiki swallowed around the lump in her throat. ‘Thank you, Mrs Wilson. I’d wait if I could, but I’ve almost left it too long as it is.’ Another truth. If she didn’t stand up for herself now, she never would. The children deserved better. What example was she setting to them, and what legacy would they inherit, if she continued to mimic her own parents and remain in a failed relationship?

‘Can we expect to see Matthew back for the new term?’

No. ‘I’m not in a position to confirm that. It depends how things go over the next few weeks. I’ll notify you as soon as I can.’ Even that prevarication tasted bitter on her tongue.

The glint in Mrs Wilson’s eye said she’d caught it, but her tone remained as mild as her words. ‘You just let me know when you know. If you need recommendations for schools in the area, don’t hesitate to ask and I’ll make some enquiries.’ She leaned further across the table, brows drawn together, no sign of the sweet, soft lady in her sharp eyes. ‘A change of scenery might be just what Matthew needs, he’s been quite withdrawn lately.’

Guilt wrenched Kiki’s insides. It shouldn’t have taken the shattering of her own dreams to spur her into action. She should have been braver, acted sooner. Matty and Charlie needed her to protect them and, so far, she’d done a terrible job of it. No more. She sat up straight. ‘I think it’s going to be exactly what we all need.’

***

Neil stepped out of their bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist. He played squash several times a week during his lunchbreak and had retained the same attractive physique she’d once marvelled over. He paused at the sight of his clothes laid out across the bed, the steaming cup of coffee waiting on his bedside cabinet. Kiki bit the inside of her cheek to keep a bitter smile at bay. In shattering her to pieces, Neil had finally achieved the perfect wife. She’d not set a foot wrong in the past two weeks, anticipating his every need before he’d even thought about it. ‘I’ve double-checked with the taxi company; your car will be here in half an hour.’

‘Good.’ He let the towel drop and began to dress. The wet tangle on the carpet taunted her, and Kiki forced herself to turn away, knowing if he glanced her way he would see the hatred seething inside her. The perfect wife would scuttle forward, pick it up and hang it back in the bathroom. The perfect wife wouldn’t imagine grabbing the cup of coffee and dashing the scalding contents into his eyes.

She’d never be perfect, it seemed. ‘Do you want anything to eat?’

Neil glanced up from the act of knotting his tie. ‘What? No. I’ll get something at the airport once I’m through security.’

Washed down with champagne, probably. He’d never spared his wallet when he’d been wooing her. No doubt the new Helen would receive the same treatment. A better person would warn the foolish girl, would contact the university and report Neil for exploiting a position of trust. Kiki had considered it, but at the end of the day, a roaring mouse was still just a mouse. A better person would confront her husband, tell him the truth and walk away with her head held high. She’d scuttle away once the coast was clear and count herself lucky for it.

She watched him turn left and right, checking the hang of his jacket. A piece of fluff clung to one shoulder and she stepped forward to remove it. Their eyes met in the mirror and she searched for one hint of the man she’d thought to spend the rest of her life with. His even, handsome features were as familiar to her as her own, and yet she knew nothing about the person beneath the flesh. How was it possible? How could she have devoted the past nine years to a stranger? Unbidden, her fingers traced the top of his shoulder, seeking proof there had once been a connection between the two of them. A frown creased his brow and he shrugged off her hand. ‘Don’t fuss, Kiki. I hate it when you fuss.’

Don’t fuss. How many times had he said that to her? About as many times as he’d accused her of neglecting him. No matter what she did, she’d always be on the wrong side of him. She folded her fingers into a fist and pressed it into the top of her thigh. ‘I’ll wake the children and we’ll see you downstairs when you’re ready.’

‘Let them sleep. I can’t be doing with them whining around me.’

The perfect-wife mask slipped a little. ‘You’re going to be away for three months, Neil. I thought you might want to say goodbye to them.’

‘Christ, Kiki. I can do without a fucking guilt trip. What do you want me to do, give up the opportunity I’ve waited my whole career for?’ He took a step towards her and she shrank back, an instinctive response intended to defuse the situation, but it only served to stoke his temper. ‘I’ve licked your father’s boots for years to get this grant, given you everything you needed even after you hung the weight of a family around my neck, but you can’t let me enjoy one thing that isn’t about you. You stupid, selfish bitch—’ The beep of a car horn outside cut him off, the promised taxi having arrived early.

Neil straightened up, ran a hand over his hair to smooth it back into place and rolled his shoulders. He snatched his wallet and keys from beside the bed and stuffed them into his pockets. ‘Great job, Kiki. All I wanted was a calm, quiet departure and you couldn’t even give me that.’

‘I’m sorry.’ He’d already shouldered his way out of the door, but the words weren’t meant for him. They were for herself, for the idealistic girl who’d deserved a man who loved her. For her children, who meant everything to her and yet so little to him. For Mia, whose love and support she’d almost thrown away.

The front door slammed and quiet voices drifted from the street below her window. Checking her watch, Kiki gave the departing taxi five minutes in case Neil had forgotten anything in his haste to leave. Satisfied he was gone, she crouched beside the bed and dragged out her own already-packed case. Her self-imposed timetable gave her two hours to finish loading the car, get the kids up and ready and their journey started. She wanted to be on the motorway the moment the rush-hour traffic eased.

She left Matty to supervise Charlie’s breakfast while she ensconced herself in Neil’s study. They didn’t know what was happening beyond the fact there would be no school today. She hadn’t wanted to get their hopes up until she knew for sure what the next step would be. Her hand clenched around her mobile, hard enough for the corners to dig into her palm. By rights, the call she was about to make should have been made two weeks ago, but she hadn’t dared. Escaping to Mia had been her only plan, and belief there was a place for them in Butterfly Cove the only thing that kept her moving forward.

Whispering a silent prayer, she scrolled through her favourites and tapped on her sister’s name. It was early to be calling, but she hoped Mia would be up. The ringtone echoed in her ear just long enough for the nerves to start dancing in her stomach, and then a deep voice answered. ‘Butterfly House, hello?’

Kiki cleared her dry throat. ‘Hello, can I speak to Mia, please?’

‘You’ve just missed her, I’m afraid. Gone to catch the early train to Exeter. Is there something I can help you with?’

She hesitated. The voice of the man at the other end of the phone had a soft West Country burr to it. Hadn’t Mia said Daniel came from somewhere in the north of England? ‘Daniel?’

‘Nope.’ A kind chuckle softened the denial. ‘This is a really bad game of twenty questions. My name’s Aaron, I’m a friend of theirs, a neighbour, too, I suppose you could say. What did you say your name was?’

She hadn’t. ‘I’m Kiki.’ She hesitated for a second. ‘Mia’s sister.’

‘Ah, yes.’ The way he said it sounded like he knew who she was, which left her wondering what else he knew about her. She sank back into her chair. In all the scenarios she’d played out in her mind, she hadn’t once assumed her sister wouldn’t be there when she needed her.

Heat prickled behind her eyes and she bit her lip when it started to wobble. ‘Do… do you know when Mia will be back?’

‘She’s gone dress shopping with Madeline, so it could be all day. Butterfly House is booked solid for the season, so this is one of her few chances to get out and about.’ Dress shopping? Mia’s wardrobe ran to jeans and jumpers in the winter and shorts and vest tops in the summer. There was something about the inflection in his voice, the way he had stressed the word. If she was dress shopping… A sob escaped her as the realisation struck. They’d become so estranged she didn’t even know her sister was getting married again. She’d waited too long to respond to the messages of support. The unanswered texts lurking in the inbox on her phone.

At first, she’d been too angry, too blinded by her own shame to reply to Mia’s overtures after the fight they’d had during her recent visit home. As the days slipped by, the anger had faded and she’d promised herself she would answer… tomorrow. Pat and Bill had called, even taken the children out for the day, and she had taken it as a sign Mia still cared. That she still had time to build bridges between them.

Of course, Mia still cared. Brushing aside her hurt, she focused on the more critical piece of information Aaron had imparted. It sounded like Mia’s new venture was already a success. Fully booked could mean only one thing—there would be no room for her and the kids. She shivered, as though a cold wind had blown over her and her plans scattered like straw on the wind once more. The last thing Mia needed was her barging in and causing chaos. Kiki tried to stem her tears, but it was like she’d opened the flood gates and didn’t know how to close them again.