You Can’t Fall in Love With Your Ex (Can You?) Read online

“But I must skedaddle,” she said. “Curtain goes up on The Nutcracker in…” she glanced at her watch. I’d never seen it before – it was slim, gold and studded with diamonds. “Four hours.”

  She swooped down and embraced me, trying to pull me up into a hug, but that made me yelp with pain. Just then Sadie arrived home, took stock of the situation at a glance and rang the local taxi firm, standing guard over me like a Rottweiler while Mel gathered her stuff together and acted all casual.

  “Bye, Laura, mwah, mwah,” she said, when the taxi finally arrived. “See you soon – maybe on stage!”

  Sadie took Mel’s elbow and steered her back into the house. From the expression on Mel’s face, I suspected my sister might have been using the martial arts techniques she learned as a child, which gave her the skills to cause excruciating pain but leave no mark.

  I lay back, relieved to be able to stretch my leg out and equally relieved to be free of Mel’s saccharine presence. Then I noticed a WH Smith carrier bag on the floor underneath my chair. A half-litre bottle of Diet Coke was lying next to it, and a copy of Dance Weekly had almost spilled out.

  I edged carefully around and stretched beneath me, retrieving the Diet Coke first of all. I took a few grateful swigs, then reached for the magazine.

  Just a few months before, I would have devoured the gossip pages eagerly. Now, what I read only made me sad. It told me one thing I had known for a while: that Laura Braithwaite, a rising star in the company, had sustained a career-ending injury. It confirmed what Mel had just told me: that the Creative Director was decamping to New York with a select few of his top dancers. And it told me why: that he had been exposed as a serial harasser of women, and that the whistle-blower had confronted Marius, broken his nose, handed in his notice and then boarded a flight back to Moscow, where he was expected to resume his glittering career.

  Chapter 24

  The next day, I awoke to brilliant sunshine. The world had that washed-clean feeling you get after loads of rain, and my brain felt like it had been laundered, too. I was actually singing as I went downstairs to feed the kitten, until Darcey stuck her head out of her bedroom and said, “Mummy, please stop making such a noise. I’m trying to watch Frozen.”

  “Sorry, Pickle, I won’t do it any more,” I said. “Come on, get dressed, we’re going round to Zé’s.”

  But as I helped Owen get his clothes on, I found myself singing again – Jonathan’s song. “What shall we do with sleepy Owen?”

  “I want Daddy,” Owen grumbled.

  “I know you do, darling, and so do I. But I hope we’ll see him very soon.”

  I didn’t feel as confident as I sounded – not by a long way. But the gorgeous day, as well as the late-night phone conference I’d had with Felix and Zé, made me slightly more optimistic.

  Half an hour later, the children were rushing around Zé’s garden and she, Felix and I were drinking coffee and eating croissants in the sunshine.

  “The thing is…” Zé and I said together.

  “Go on,” I said.

  “No, you first,” she said.

  “No, please,” I said.

  “Christ, you two!” Felix said. “Can’t you just talk over each other, like men do? What’s with the politeness?”

  “Okay, then,” I said. “The thing is, Jonathan’s still not taking my calls. I don’t even know where the bloody company flat is. And until he talks to me, I can’t sort anything out at all.”

  “And Rick’s not taking my calls either,” Zé said. “The fucker. And until he does, I can’t tell him that I want him to die a slow, painful death and never see his daughter again. But he’ll have to, won’t he?” She lowered her voice. “How is this happening to me? How does going to visit your ex-husband in prison even work?”

  “You’ll find a way,” Felix said, squeezing her hand. “I believe there are buses that take you there, full of gangsters’ molls carrying rasps hidden in fruit cakes. Or maybe I watched too many of the wrong sort of movies when I was a kid.”

  “You can piss off, too,” Zé said, but she was giggling in a helpless sort of way. “God, I’m so glad the two of you are here.”

  Then her mobile rang.

  “Fuck, it’s Rick’s lawyer,” she said.

  “Put it on speakerphone,” Felix said, glancing over his shoulder to check that the children were well out of earshot. “We need to know what’s going on.”

  Zé pressed a couple of buttons, then said, “Hello?”

  “Is that Mrs Campbell?”

  “Yes,” Zé said, sounding a bit croaky.

  “Please hold for Mr Faraday.”

  There was a beep and then another beep, and then a plummy voice said, “Zélide? Martin Faraday here.”

  “Hi Martin,” Zé said. “Is there – I mean, have you heard anything new?”

  “I’ve got good news,” the lawyer said. “A decision has been taken by the firm to drop all the charges. No further action will be pursued, so long as Mr Campbell undertakes to repay fifty percent of the funds in question. The remaining… er… shortfall is to be absorbed by the partners.”

  I gasped. That meant Jonathan.

  “Mr Campbell has asked me to advise you that he will be travelling to Dublin this afternoon to spend a short period with his brother there, recovering and reflecting on what has occurred,” said the lawyer.

  “That’s probably a wise decision,” Zé said. “Because if he came back here, I couldn’t be held responsible for what would occur then.”

  The lawyer cleared his throat. “I understand your distress, Mrs Campbell. Please be aware that I shall be in constant communication with your ex… with your husband, and likewise with the partners at Strachan Delaunay Whitworth. I’ll be keeping you informed as and when the relevant documents are signed and the settlement agreement finalised.”

  “Thank you,” Zé said faintly.

  “Thank you,” Martin Faraday said. “And good day.”

  “OhmyGodohmyGodohmyGod,” Zé said, hugging her knees to her chest and pressing her forehead into them. “It’s all still so shit, but I feel so relieved. Why did they decide that? How’s he got away with it? I’m so livid with the brass neck of the man, but still —”

  She reached her hand into the air and snatched it down again in a triumphant, “Yes!” gesture, then got up and ran out on to the lawn, sweeping Juniper up into a massive hug.

  “Mum, don’t!” Juniper’s clear voice carried easily to where Felix and I were sitting. “God, you’re so embarrassing.”

  I looked over at Felix, my heart hammering. “What now? I really, really need to talk to Jonathan.”

  “Couldn’t be easier,” Felix said. “What’s his number?”

  He had the small, happy smile on his face that he’d always had when he was embarking on an adventure.

  “Felix, what are you going to do?”

  “Nothing illegal, I promise. Give me his number and you’ll be with him this morning.”

  I hesitated, then decided to trust him and trotted out the eleven digits of Jonathan’s mobile.

  A few seconds later, over the speakerphone, I heard my husband’s voice, sounding so familiar and yet so strange, distorted by the horrible distance that had spread between us.

  “Jonathan Payne speaking.”

  “Mr Payne?” Felix said. “Faraday here.”

  I gasped and had to muffle a laugh with my hands. Felix had replicated the lawyer’s accent flawlessly.

  “Yes, Martin,” Jonathan said wearily. “What is it? You know I’m -”

  “I’m aware of your situation, Mr Payne,” Felix said. “But it would be most helpful if you could spare just a few minutes of your time for a brief face-to-face conference.”

  “Christ. All right then. I suppose you want me to come to your office?”

  “I don’t believe that would be advisable, Mr Payne,” Felix said. “There’s the risk of media scrutiny. You’re staying at the client apartment, I understand?”

  “That’s
right,” Jonathan said.

  “Forty-four The Drake, EC2Y?” Felix said.

  “Er, no,” Jonathan said. “It’s eight-one-one Roman House. I’ll give you the postcode.”

  “That’s quite all right,” Felix said. “My error. I have it here. I shall be with you in under an hour.”

  He ended the call, just as Zé and the children came running back to the table.

  “Can I have a croissant?” Owen said. He pronounced it ‘crusty’.

  “Of course you can, sweetie,” I said. I felt like my insides had been scooped out and filled up with a weird, curdling mixture of relief and trepidation. “Butter or jam or both?”

  “Both,” Owen said.

  “Felix, will you do some magic?” Darcey said. “Please?”

  Felix smiled again, the delighted, almost devilish grin I knew so well. “I think I just did,” he said.

  “Felix will do some magic for you soon, Pickle,” I said. “Mummy has to go out.”

  “Can I come too?” Owen said.

  “Not today,” I said. “You’ve got to stay here with Zé and be a good boy.”

  “I’ll call a cab for you,” Zé said.

  This seemed like a sensible suggestion, but it turned out to be a mistake. Traffic in the city was blocked solid – there was some protest march happening, and we were diverted to Tower Bridge and then got stuck again.

  “Let me out here, please,” I said to the driver. “I’ll walk. It’s not far.”

  But I’d misjudged the distance. I walked for what felt like miles through the streets, growing more and more anxious, the sun beating down on my shoulders and reflecting off the pavement until I was a hot, sweaty mess.

  “A midsummer day’s nightmare,” I said to myself.

  At last, I found reached the building, an edifice of glass and steel next to a huge roundabout. The noise was thunderous – traffic roaring past, horns blaring. Poor Jonathan, I thought, staying here. How he must be missing home, the garden, the children. But was he missing me?

  I felt as nervous as I ever had before going on stage. We’d tricked him to get me here – he’d made it quite clear that he didn’t want to talk to me. He’d probably slam the door in my face, and I’d have to go home and find some way to tell the children that Daddy wasn’t coming back. I might as well give up, go down into the Tube station, go back to Clapham and send him an email telling him I accepted his decision – that it was all over, all my fault.

  Then a tall woman in a suit emerged through the glass doors, and I felt a blast of air-conditioned chill. She held the door open for me, and my feet carried me, almost without my bidding, into the chilly lobby. I’d sit down for a few minutes, cool down, then make my way back.

  But I’d reckoned without the presence of the concierge, who smiled politely from behind his desk and said, “How may I help you, madam?”

  It was too late – I was here, I’d have to go through with it.

  “I’m visiting number eight-one-one,” I said. “Jonathan Payne.”

  “May I take your name?”

  Shit. What if he refused to let me in? I was going to have to stick with the script for now. “I’m from Faraday and Partners,” I said.

  The concierge gave me a raised-eyebrow scrutiny that said, quite clearly, that he didn’t know what law firms today were coming to if their staff arrived to appointments in flip-flops, sweating and scarlet in the face. But he picked up a handset, pressed a few buttons, and said, “Your visitor from Faraday and Partners is here, Mr Payne.”

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “Through the glass doors, the lift is on the right. It’s the eighth floor, last door to your left.”

  I thanked him again and let my trembling legs carry me to the lift. As it swept me upwards, I looked at my reflection in the mirror and confirmed that I looked just as terrible as I’d imagined. Well, it was too late to do anything about that now. If Jonathan turned me away, it wasn’t going to be because I had no make-up on and the humidity had made my hair frizz, that was for sure.

  I waited for a long moment in front of the door, then lifted my hand and knocked. Jonathan opened it almost immediately – he must have been hovering in the hallway, waiting for his solicitor.

  I’d expected him to be shocked when he saw me, probably angry. But to my amazement, he looked relieved.

  “Hello, Laura.”

  “Hi. I’m sorry about blagging my way in, but you weren’t answering my calls. We need to talk,” I said.

  “You’d better come in,” he said. “Would you like a coffee?”

  “Just a glass of water,” I said.

  Jonathan gestured towards a white leather sofa. “Have a seat.”

  Jesus, I thought, this is awful. It felt like the worst kind of business meeting, when you know the person you’re there to see doesn’t want to see you. Jonathan hadn’t even touched me – even the most unwelcoming client would have shaken my hand.

  Jonathan returned with a glass of water and put it on the glass coffee table in front of me, then sat down on a twin white sofa on the opposite side of the room. He rested his elbows on his thighs and stared down at his hands – or at the hideous abstract design on the black and yellow carpet, I couldn’t tell for sure.

  “How are the children?” he said.

  “They’re fine,” I said. “They miss you.”

  “I miss them, too,” Jonathan said, his voice catching in his throat. “I miss them so fucking much. And you, too. I was going to come home, but then —”

  I sipped my water and waited for him to carry on.

  “I was too ashamed,” he said. “After what happened.”

  “You were what?” I said. “But you’ve done nothing wrong. It was Rick who stole the money.”

  “Yes, it was. But I let it happen.”

  “How?” I demanded. “Of course you didn’t.”

  “He put all the fake claims through the DBMG account,” Jonathan said. “Remember, I told you about it? It’s been dormant for years. I should have shut it down, or at least kept an eye on it, but I didn’t. It all came out when I was in New York. Rick was putting through travel expenses on his personal credit card, allocating them to that account, then cancelling and claiming the money back. If I’d been doing my job, it would never have happened. That’s why I’ve resigned. It’s over, Laura. I don’t have a job any more.”

  “But they’ve decided not to prosecute him,” I said stupidly. “I don’t understand.”

  “Because I persuaded them not to,” he said. “Not that it took much doing – they were pretty keen to close ranks and avoid the scandal. But someone had to take the hit, and it was me. It was thinking about Darcey’s friend that made me decide. That little girl – what would her future be like if her dad went to prison?”

  “You did the right thing,” I said.

  He shook his head. “I did the only thing. But now – don’t you see, Laura, what this means for us?”

  “What, you not having a job? You’ll find another, won’t you?”

  “Not in this industry,” he said. “I’m a marked man now. And to be honest, I don’t want to do this any more. I fucking hate it – I’ve hated it for years. The hours, the corporate bullshit, the immorality, the dick-swinging competitiveness, never seeing you or the kids. It’s a miserable life. I’ve been miserable.”

  “Why didn’t you say?” I asked, but I didn’t need to. I remembered that he had once tried to tell me, and anyway – I knew.

  “Once you’re in it, you can’t get out,” he said. “Not the job, the whole life. The house, the holidays, the car, you being able to stay at home… I couldn’t let you all down, Laura. And I couldn’t talk to you about it, because – well, because we haven’t exactly been talking about stuff, have we? And now I have let you down, and I can’t even give you all those things. Maybe you’d be better off with that smarmy actor anyway.”

  “Jonathan,” I said. “Look at me.” And for the first time, he did. His face was haggard with
tiredness and stress, and I understood for the first time how heavy the burden was that he’d been carrying, all alone, unable to put it down or share it with me.

  “None of that matters,” I said. “I don’t care about the house. We were happy before we moved there and we could be happy somewhere else. And I hate not working. I’ve been bored stupid. That’s why this thing with Felix happened – not that anything actually did happen. You believe that, don’t you?”

  He nodded. “I’ve thought about it over and over,” he said. “I was wrong to doubt you, Laura. I know how you feel about us – about me and the children. I know you wouldn’t chuck it away. And I so nearly did, because I was jealous. I’m sorry.”

  I said, “I’ve been thinking about it too. It wasn’t about Felix, really – it could never have worked between him and me. I knew that all along. I never wanted to leave you, not for one second. But I thought I could somehow get my past back. That never works, does it?”

  Jonathan shook his head. “You can’t get the past back,” he said.

  “And I don’t want to,” I said. “What good is the past to me? It didn’t have the children in it. It didn’t have you. You’re what I want.”

  “You know what I want?” Jonathan said.

  “What?”

  “I want to take you out to lunch. I’m starving.”

  “Don’t be mad,” I said. “We’ll only end up doing the bloody dance of lunch.”

  Jonathan said, “But there’s this fab street food place that does burritos…”

  I said, “Or how about the raw food bar up the road?” There wasn’t one – I was just making shit up. But it was worth one last, tiny lie to see the expression on his face – he’d rather eat his own feet than raw food, but he wanted to make me happy.

  “Um… Or maybe sushi,” he said, throwing in his last bid.

  “Jonathan,” I said. “We’ve got the rest of our lives to argue about lunch. How about now we go to bed?”

  And he stood up from the sofa opposite me and we sort of flung ourselves against each other, and I felt what I hadn’t felt when Felix hugged me the night before, hadn’t felt for the longest time, actually. I knew I was in the arms of a man I loved and trusted completely, a man who’d make a dangerous, difficult choice because it was the right thing to do. I knew that this was the right place for me to be.