Never Close Your Eyes (57 page)

Becca had resigned from her job and the Richmond house was on the market. She and Tom were looking for a suitable property in Spain which they could turn into a hotel. Evie would miss them but she could understand their logic. They'd certainly stay in touch; you couldn't share a secret like that and not remain inextricably bound.

She strolled into the kitchen. Steve was busy buttering some toast. She noticed that he had dirty fingernails.

‘Much work today?' she asked. She didn't know why she bothered. She knew what the answer would be.

‘Nah, there's not much about at the moment.' He licked his fingers. Evie shuddered. He did have some revolting personal habits. ‘Thought I'd hang around here today, if that's all right with you, read the papers, watch a bit of TV.'

Evie's face felt hot. ‘No it's not all right with me,' she said. ‘
I
have work to do. I've got a wedding dress to finish.' He shot her a hurt expression. She softened. ‘I'm sorry,' she went on, ‘but it's distracting trying to work when you're around. I can't concentrate properly. I make loads of mistakes.'

He shrugged. ‘OK then, I'll be off – soon as I've finished this.' He plopped two poached eggs from the pan on to some toast and plonked his plate on the table.

He looked cold, sitting there without a shirt on. His shoulders were very thin. Evie felt guilty suddenly.

‘I'll see you early next week, shall I?' she asked. ‘Once I've made some progress with the dress.'

‘I'll be back before then,' he replied, taking a mouthful of food. ‘I'm meeting a mate over this way tomorrow night, it'd be easier for me to stay here.'

Evie swallowed. ‘Ah,' she said. ‘I see. OK, tomorrow night then.'

She tramped slowly upstairs and flopped on to her bed. She couldn't understand these negative feelings that she was having about Steve. Not when Zelda was so insistent that he was The One. It simply didn't make sense.

Zelda had gone a bit funny recently. She kept insisting that Evie shouldn't tell anyone – not a soul – that they were having these conversations. But who was Evie likely to tell anyway? Certainly not Bill. He'd say loftily that it was all a load of rubbish and she was wasting her money. He could be so arrogant and dismissive.

Evie grimaced. Zelda seemed to be taking an age to answer the phone. That was annoying, too. Where was she? It wasn't as if she had anything much else to do. She wasn't much cop at her job, either. She'd totally cocked up as far as Freya was concerned. Hadn't seen it coming at all. What use was a medium if she couldn't even see seismic events like that around the corner?

Evie checked herself. She was expecting too much of Zelda, who never claimed that she could see everything. She, Evie, really was in a miserable mood today. She'd better snap out of it or no one would want to talk to her.

‘Zelda speakin'.' She sounded slightly out of breath. ‘Oh,' she puffed, ‘I've just got in from me walk. I wasn't expectin' you till tonight.'

Evie sat back on the bed, propping up the pillows behind her. ‘I need to talk to you about Steve.'

‘What about him?'

‘I've gone off him.'

‘Gone off?'

‘Yes.' Did she have to spell it out? ‘I mean, I don't fancy him any more.'

There was a pause while Zelda lit a fag. ‘So, what's that got to do with it?' she said at last.

Evie was exasperated. ‘It means I can't bear the sight of him any more. I think he's a lazy, sponging, unattractive creep.'

Zelda took a drag of her cigarette. Evie imagined that she could smell the smoke wafting out of the receiver. ‘That's a bit strong, darlin'.'

‘Well, I can't hide my feelings any longer,' Evie huffed. ‘I'm going to have to say something. He can't be The One you told me about. Anyway, didn't you say his name began with a T, a P or a W? You must have made a mistake.'

Zelda tut-tutted. ‘Oh no, darlin',' she said, ‘there's no mistake. You're just going through a bad patch, that's all. You should have a weekend away together without the kiddies. That'll put the romance back.'

‘But I don't want to go away for a weekend with him,' Evie cried. ‘In fact I can't think of anything worse.'

She put her hand over her mouth. She couldn't believe she'd just said it. What on earth was she thinking of?

‘Look, darlin',' Zelda hissed. The tone in her voice startled Evie. She sounded quite angry. ‘I'm tellin' you straight. This Steve o' yours is the one for you and no mistake. It's Steve you're gonna marry.'

Evie gasped. ‘What if I don't want to marry him?' she said. ‘What if I've changed my mind?'

‘You can't change what's written,' Zelda replied. ‘No one can do that. So you'd best just buckle down and get used to the idea.'

It wasn't easy to follow someone on a bike. Carol didn't think it was quite her thing. It would be difficult enough on foot but with a bike it was even harder. She tried to go as slowly as possible, so as not to overtake him, but that made her wobble precariously. Then she had to stop and walk for a bit, doing her best not to bump into pedestrians and thus draw attention to herself.

Steve was on the same side of the road heading towards the town centre. Carol guessed that he was going to the station but she couldn't be sure. He stopped once at a shop to buy a newspaper, calling goodbye as he left. She hated the way he was so familiar with the place and the people. He'd spent the last few months insinuating himself back into Evie's life and it looked as if he were now in danger of becoming a permanent fixture. Carol shivered. Not if she could help it.

He walked with a stoop – he didn't have a nice, flat back like Evie. And his long, straight hair, flecked with grey, was hanging down around his face in greasy strings. It needed a good wash. What a nasty, unsavoury-looking character, Carol thought. She couldn't imagine what on earth Evie saw in him.

She crossed the road quickly as they neared the train station and left her bike against the fence. There was no time to lock it. She'd just have to keep her fingers crossed that it wouldn't get nicked. Good job it was one of those old, sit-up-and-beg varieties with a big, wicker basket on the front. Not exactly trendy.

She trailed behind him into the ticket hall and watched while he paid for his ticket; she had a pass. Then she kept close while he went through the barrier and up the ramp on to platform three. He stood and studied a train map on the wall while she sat down on a bench and sighed with relief. Maybe this was going to be easier than she'd feared. Most of the time while he was walking he'd had his head down, staring at his feet. Luckily he was the unobservant sort.

She sat several rows back on the train; there weren't many people about so it wasn't difficult to keep an eye on him. Meanwhile, he stared out of the window; hadn't he got a job to go to? Carol was contemptuous. He'd be a hopeless provider, not what Evie needed at all.

The train stopped at Clapham Junction and Steve got out, followed by Carol, and headed up Lavender Hill. Fortunately his pace was pretty slow. Not in any hurry, she thought disapprovingly. Not like
proper
men with important business to attend to.

Halfway up Lavender Hill he crossed the road and turned right. Carol was relieved; he must be near his destination now. There were fewer people off the main road and she feared that at any moment he might turn round and spot her. But he carried on until he reached a dingy-looking Victorian semi with a ‘To Let' sign outside, where he stopped.

Carol hung back and peered at him round the corner of a privet hedge. She was surprised to see a youngish woman with a small boy on her hip, marching out of the house and down the path towards him. She'd left the front door wide open.

‘Where the fuck have you been?' the woman shouted.

Charming. Carol didn't have to strain at all. The man mumbled something which Carol couldn't hear.

‘Fine example you're setting your son,' the woman went on. ‘Disappearing for nights on end. And how am I supposed to find somewhere else for us to live if you never give us any money? We can't live on thin air, you know.'

Steve put his arm on her shoulder. He seemed to be hoping to hustle her inside, but she wasn't having any of it.

‘Take your hands off me,' she screeched, shaking him away. ‘I'm sick with worry. We're being kicked out of our home and do you care? No you don't. All you can do is fuck around with whoever it is you're fucking when you're not with me.'

Carol winced. She wasn't used to language like this. It really was most disagreeable. Steve put his hands in his pockets. His shoulders were drooping even more than usual and his chin was practically scraping the floor. Carol couldn't hear what he said next, but she guessed it was some sort of apology.

‘I don't care what you say,' the woman screeched, ‘you're not coming in here, no way. I've had enough of you and your empty promises. You can fuck off. I never want to see you again.'

She turned on her heels and marched back towards the house, with Steve in hot pursuit. But before he could get his foot in the door, she'd slammed it in his face.

Carol wanted to cheer, but she managed to contain herself. He rang the bell a few times and she was willing the woman not to answer. She didn't. Then he went to the front window and started banging on that, and throwing pebbles up to the window above. At last, when he got no joy, he went to the side gate, climbed on to the next-door neighbour's wall and tried to jump over, but it was too high. Carol was immensely relieved. Money or no money, that poor woman would be better off without him.

When he'd finally given up, Carol watched Steve sloping off down the road in the other direction, his mobile clamped to his ear. A nasty thought crossed her mind: he was probably ringing Evie to fix up his bed for tonight. She checked in either direction that no one was coming and stepped out from behind the privet hedge. She'd have to act fast.

She took a deep breath, straightened her shoulders and hurried back down the hill towards the station. She didn't know if she could do it; she thought she'd never been so nervous in her life. But she was sick of watching from the wings, of knowing full well what was best and not being allowed to say it. She'd done it for too long; she owed it now to Evie to act.

Her underarms and the palms of her hands were sweaty and her heart was racing. She was frightened but excited too. After all, she'd been dreaming of this moment for the past forty-two years.

The time had almost come to step out of the shadows.

Chapter Fifty-One

‘What's the matter?'

The young woman had obviously been crying. Her eyes were red and she was clutching a paper hankie. Evie ushered her into the sitting room, picking up a plate from the floor that she'd used for her lunchtime sandwich and putting it on the Lloyd Loom chair. ‘Sit down, please.'

The woman plonked herself on the sofa and blew into a hankie. Her Big Day was in a month's time. Pre-wedding jitters, Evie supposed. It wasn't unusual.

‘I've finished the lace now,' she said kindly. ‘The dress looks beautiful. Would you like to see it?'

‘No!' The woman started sobbing. Evie sat down beside her and put an arm around her shoulders.

‘What is it?' she said. ‘What's happened?'

‘He's called it off,' the woman wailed. ‘He says he's changed his mind, he doesn't know if he loves me any more. But' – Evie got up and passed her a box of tissues that were on the windowsill – ‘we've been planning this for a whole year. I don't understand why he didn't tell me before!'

‘I'm so sorry,' Evie said. ‘Do you think he means it or is it just pre-wedding nerves?'

‘He means it,' the woman said. Her body was trembling. Evie instinctively reached up and stroked her thick auburn hair. ‘He's cancelled the church and the reception and said he's going to ring round this morning to tell everyone.'

‘My God,' Evie said. ‘You must be devastated. Was there any indication at all that this was coming?'

It was 2.30 p.m. before the woman left. Evie had tried her best to be helpful, to offer sound advice, and she felt wrung out. The poor woman was in pieces. Evie wondered what on earth to do about the dress. The fabric had cost a lot and she'd spent hours making it, but she didn't know if she'd have the heart to charge for it. She badly needed the money, though. She'd think about it later.

She was annoyed when the doorbell rang. She didn't want to talk to anyone.

‘May I come in, dear?'

Evie had great difficulty concealing her irritation. This was all she needed: first a distraught, jilted bride and now Carol on her doorstep. It really was the last straw.