he had to have me, help me. It was love at first sight on his part and I fell for him pretty quickly afterwards.’
‘It might have been the same story, but you didn’t see his face when he told me his version. It was as if you were some acquisition, something he’d bought, just like he buys his houses, cars…’ Demi stops and holds her hands up. ‘Right, that’s it. No more now. I want to hear all about these precious babies, and as long as you’re happy, that’s all that matters.’
I return her smile and we link arms and walk across the living room and out onto the balcony. The tide is on its way in, the sun is playing chase with the clouds, and the wide expanse of Crantock beach is occupied by dog walkers, kite surfers and a few brave paddlers in the cold spring breakers. A thought pushes itself to the front of my mind. Perhaps there’s a little bit of Demi that’s jealous? Hasn’t she just said she would love a place like mine – what she wouldn’t give? Maybe she’d like to settle down, have the life I have, a husband that’s successful?
‘This is just an amazing view; I bet you never want to go back to London,’ Demi says quietly.
I push those thoughts to the back of my mind again. If she’s a bit jealous, then that’s only natural, isn’t it? I’d probably be the same if our roles were reversed. I smile. ‘To be honest, no I don’t. Especially since I’ve been pregnant. I want my babies to breathe in fresh sea air instead of pollution and listen to seagulls, not car horns.’
I look at Demi and the smile dies on my face. She has tears standing and she swallows hard. ‘You know you always say that everything is all okay as long as you’re happy?’
I nod.
‘I’ve asked you if you’re happy three times since I’ve been here and you haven’t said anything back. You are happy, aren’t you? I’d hate to think that you…’
I slip my arm around her shoulder and give her a squeeze. ‘Hey, of course I am, silly,’ I say to the beach. I don’t want to look into her searching eyes; she always could read me far too well. ‘Why wouldn’t I be? I have everything I’ve ever wanted.’
Simon ended the call to his wife and poured a whisky. After the day he’d had, he needed one, and he needed Holly too, but she’d just told him she wasn’t coming home until the end of the week and he missed her. She’d originally said she’d be back tomorrow and now it would be three more days. Yes, the beach house was his gift to her to make sure she still felt connected to Cornwall and all that romantic stuff about the wild ocean she talked about. But she needed to realise that London was her home now. He’d make her realise it. He had to. The babies were due in five weeks and if she postponed again he’d be worried she might go into labour out in the sticks instead of at his clinic where she’d be safe. If anything happened to her or the babies, he’d never forgive himself.
The light of the reading lamp behind him in the otherwise dark apartment made a mirror of the floor-to-ceiling windows. In them, a tall, dark-haired man wearing a black pinstriped suit glowered at himself and then lifted a heavy crystal tumbler to his lips. Except that it was empty. Simon strode over to the drinks cabinet and refilled the glass. The apartment always felt so empty when Holly was away. He wished he didn’t miss her so much… love her so much. Simon put the glass to his lips and took a big mouthful, his breath taken by the whisky burning a path to his stomach.
In the bedroom he threw off his clothes and ran the shower in the en suite. He’d planned to stay in tonight, but it wouldn’t hurt to go out for a bit, would it? Simon needed a distraction, a bit of fun. He thought about the determined tone that had crept into his wife’s voice on the telephone earlier when he’d said he’d like her to come home tomorrow like she’d agreed. Simon was sure that little witch Demelza had changed Holly’s mind. He knew she’d be trouble when he first laid eyes on her. All thick as thieves and hugs with Holly, yet as cold as ice with him. That was unusual. He had the opposite effect on women mostly.
Half an hour later, Simon shrugged into his jacket and, with some trepidation, examined his appearance in the dressing-table mirror. These long days and late nights were taking their toll. He leaned closer and ruffled the hair around his temples. No, he wasn’t mistaken when he’d looked at himself in the window earlier; there were a few grey hairs amongst the dark. And yes, the fine lines around his eyes were becoming more pronounced. Fuck, he was only thirty-four. Perhaps he should stay in after all, have a warm drink, go to bed… the gaming tables hadn’t been kind to him lately either. Then he thought about the empty flat and the bed that was too big.
Grey hairs or no, the cocktail waitress couldn’t take her eyes off him. She’d welcomed him into the casino bar as if they were old friends and called him by his name. Yes, he was a regular, but still a nice touch given that he couldn’t recall seeing her before. He watched her now as she mixed his drink: dark sparkly eyes, generous mouth, curvy figure poured into a slinky red dress, and bouncy chocolate curls tumbling over her shoulders. The complete opposite of Holly, admittedly, but then he didn’t really have a type. A gorgeous woman was a gorgeous woman. He liked them and they liked him.
Simon had been very good since he’d been married where the ladies were concerned, however. Not so much with the gambling… but that was another story. It was blatantly obvious that many of the nurses and some of female doctors at the practice were his for the taking, should he ask. He hadn’t asked though. Holly was enough for him; she was everything he’d ever wanted. Why she was, he didn’t know. Apart from her stunning looks, she was kind of average in other areas: intelligence, ambition, creativity… Simon had always thought that any wife of his would be outstanding in everything she did. But he’d seen her on that catwalk three years ago and he’d just known she was the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.
‘Penny for them, Mr West?’ Chocolate Curls set the glass down and leaned her elbows on the bar to give him a good view of her cleavage. ‘My name’s Lauren by the way.’
Simon took a drink and looked at her cheeky smile. ‘I’m thinking about my wife, Lauren, as it goes.’
Lauren’s eyes lost a bit of sparkle, but she said in a bright voice, ‘Oh, that’s nice. She’s a very lucky woman to be married to you.’
‘Why do you say that?’
‘Well, good-looking, successful, polite, charming. Did I say good-looking?’
Her throaty giggle and a wink made Simon laugh too. ‘Thanks. My wife doesn’t agree though. Seems she prefers the company of her old school friend and the wiles of Cornwall to her husband and Thameside apartment.’
‘Really? No accounting for taste is there?’ Lauren smiled again and twirled a strand of hair round her finger.
Simon smiled back and let his gaze slowly travel from her eyes to her cleavage, deliberately lingering there before flicking his eyes back to hers again. She looked back at him without a trace of embarrassment, and though she didn’t say anything, her message was loud and clear. Simon took another drink and watched her over the rim of his glass as she mixed a drink for another customer at the other side of the bar. She really had the most amazing arse. Would it hurt if he slipped just this once? Because she was heavily pregnant, Holly hadn’t felt like sex much lately; understandable, but very tedious…
‘Simon! Not joining us tonight, matey?’
He felt the heavy hand of Giles, an old school acquaintance, on his shoulder and the alcohol fumes from his breath nearly singed his eyebrows. ‘Evening, Giles. I’m not sure that I am… might give it a miss,’ he said into his glass while still eyeing Lauren.
‘Nonsense! You have to let me win back what I lost a few weeks back, eh? ‘Slonley right.’
Simon looked at Giles’s red, gin-soaked face and listened to his slurred gabble for a few moments. He could do with a win. The bank was on his back ever so politely and he’d had a card refused at The Ritz the other day. Very embarrassing, as he’d been with the