Part 26 (1/2)

He sat down heavily on the bench. I sat next to him and we both stared at the little garden.

'I feel awful,' I said. 'I basically accused her of destroying everything she went near. And all the time she was creating this.'

He stooped to feel the leaves on a tomato plant, then straightened, shaking his head. 'Okay. So we'll go talk to her.'

'Really?'

'Yeah. Lunch first. Then cinema. Then we'll turn up on her doorstep. That way she won't be able to avoid you.' He took my hand and raised it to his lips. 'Hey. Don't look so worried. The garden is good news. It shows that her head's not in a totally bad place.'

He released my hand and I squinted at him. 'How come you always make everything better?'

'I just don't like seeing you sad.'

I couldn't tell him that I wasn't sad when I was with him. I couldn't tell him that he made me so happy I was afraid of it. I thought of how I liked having his food in my fridge, how I glanced at my phone twenty times a day waiting for his messages, how I conjured his naked body in my imagination in the quiet minutes at work and then had to think very hard about floor polish or till receipts just to stop myself glowing.

Slow down, said a warning voice. Don't get too close.

His eyes softened. 'You have a sweet smile, Louisa Clark. It's one of the several hundred things I like about you.'

I let myself gaze back at him for a minute. This man, I thought. And then I slapped my hands heavily on my knees. 'C'mon,' I said briskly. 'Let's go watch a movie.'

The cinema was almost empty. We sat side by side at the back in a seat where someone had knocked out the armrest, and Sam fed me popcorn from a cardboard bucket the size of a dustbin, and I tried not to think about the weight of his hand resting on my bare leg, because when I did I frequently lost track of what was happening with the plot.

The film was an American comedy about two mismatched cops who find themselves mistaken for criminals. It wasn't very funny, but I laughed anyway. Sam's fingers appeared in front of me, bearing a bulbous k.n.o.bble of salted popcorn and I took it, and another, then, as an afterthought, kept hold of his fingers between my teeth. He looked at me and shook his head, slowly.

I finished the popcorn and swallowed. 'n.o.body will see,' I whispered.

He raised an eyebrow. 'I'm too old for this,' he murmured. But when I turned his face to mine in the hot, dark air, and started to kiss him, he dropped the popcorn and his hand slid slowly up my back.

And then my phone rang. There was a hiss of disapproval from the two people at the front. 'Sorry.

Sorry, you two!' (Given there were only four of us in the cinema.) I scrambled off Sam's lap and answered. A number I didn't recognize.

'Louisa?'It took me a second to register her voice.

'Just give me a minute.' I pulled a face at Sam, and made my way out.

'Sorry, Mrs Traynor. I just had to Are you still there? h.e.l.lo?'

The foyer was empty, the cordoned-off queue areas deserted, the frozen-drinks machine churning its coloured ice listlessly behind the counter.

'Oh, thank goodness. Louisa? I wondered if I could speak to Lily.'

I stood, with the phone pressed to my ear.

'I've been thinking about what happened the other week and I'm so sorry. I must have seemed ...' She hesitated. 'Look, I was wondering if you thought she would agree to see me.'

'Mrs Traynor '

'I'd like to explain to her. For the last year or so I've ... well, I've not been myself. I've been on these tablets and they make me rather dim-witted. And I was so taken aback to find you on my doorstep, and then I simply couldn't believe what you both were telling me. It all seemed so unlikely. But I ... Well, I've spoken to Steven and he confirmed the whole thing and I've been sitting here for days and digesting it all and I just think ... Will had a daughter. I have a granddaughter. I keep saying the words. Sometimes I think I dreamed it.'

I listened to the uncharacteristic flurry of her words. 'I know,' I said. 'I felt like that, too.'

'I can't stop thinking about her. I do so want to meet her properly. Do you think she'd agree to see me again?'

'Mrs Traynor, she's not staying with me any more. But yes.' I ran my fingers through my hair. 'Yes, of course I'll ask her.'

I couldn't focus on the rest of the film. In the end, perhaps realizing that I was simply staring at a moving screen, Sam suggested we leave. We stood in the car park by his bike and I told him what she'd said.

'There, see?' he said, as if I had done something to be proud of. 'Let's go.'

He waited on the bike across the road as I knocked on the door. I lifted my chin, determined that this time I would not let Tanya Houghton-Miller intimidate me. I glanced back, and Sam nodded encouragingly.

The door opened. Tanya was dressed in a chocolate linen dress and Grecian sandals. She looked me up and down as she had when we'd first met, as if my own wardrobe had failed some invisible test. (This was a little annoying as I was wearing my favourite checked cotton pinafore dress.) Her smile stayed on her lips for just a nanosecond, then fell away. 'Louisa.'

'Sorry to turn up unannounced, Mrs Houghton-Miller.'

'Has something happened?'

I blinked. 'Well, yes, actually.' I pushed my hair from the side of my face. 'I've had a call from Mrs Traynor, Will's mother. I'm sorry to bother you with this, but she'd really like to get in contact with Lily, and as she's not picking up her phone, I wondered if you'd mind asking her to call me?'

Tanya gazed at me from under perfectly plucked brows.

I kept my face neutral. 'Or maybe we could have a quick chat with her.'

There was a short silence. 'Why would you think I would ask her?'

I took a breath, picking my words carefully. 'I know you have strong feelings about the Traynor family, but I do think it would be in Lily's interests. I don't know if she told you but they had a rather difficult firstmeeting the other week and Mrs Traynor would really like the chance to start again.'

'She can do what she wants, Louisa. But I don't know why you're expecting me to get involved.'

I tried to keep my voice polite. 'Um ... because you're her mother?'

'Whom she hasn't bothered to contact in more than a week.'

I stood very still. Something cold and hard settled in my stomach. 'What did you just say?'

'Lily. Hasn't bothered to contact me. I thought at least she might come and say h.e.l.lo after we got back from holiday but, no, that's plainly beyond her. Suiting herself, as usual.' She extended a hand to examine her fingernails.

'Mrs Houghton-Miller, she was meant to be with you.'

'What?'

'Lily. Was moving back in with you. When you got home from your holiday. She left my flat ... ten days ago.'

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

We stood in Tanya Houghton-Miller's immaculate kitchen and I stared at her s.h.i.+ny coffee machine with 108 k.n.o.bs, which had probably cost more than my car, and ran through the previous week's events for the umpteenth time.