Chapter Thirty Two
Pizzas had been ordered, and the champagne gave way to beers, and the four adults moved to the lounge once Eleanor settled in her new bedroom.
Corinne held an open jotter pad on her knees and scribbled down Sammy's animated daydreams.
"I want slate tiles in the bathroom, around the shower, and sage green paint..." she looked across at her friend. "Does that sound nice?"
Corinne looked at the filled page, "sounds amazing...it all does, though I have a feeling this house being the size it is..."
"Small!" Mike added with a laugh.
"QUAINT," Corinne corrected him. "Well there's a danger of the russet in the hallway, the teal in the lounge, then what was that colour you wanted for your bedroom?"
"HOT RED!" She announced, laughing as Joel blushed that very colour again. It was the last thing she wanted to decorate her bedroom in, but she was purposely trying to affect him, prove that he couldn't pretend that there was nothing between them. She took a blush to be a good thing. "It's the new me, I want to embrace feng shui wherever I am. How can that fail me in a bedroom?"
Mike groaned as Corinne giggled, "this is the girl I remember growing up with! Anyway, there's a risk that TOO many bold colours in such a bijou place...well, it could be overkill!"
"Worked for Pablo Picasso," she offered, more than aware that she was starting to feel very drunk, and that could be a very bad thing. "I think I should go to bed."
Corinne laughed, "you are such a lightweight!"
Joel leaned forward, "it has been an exhausting day for her."
Sammy's head and lolled back against the sofa, and at hearing his voice, she rolled it so that she could see him, "you are right Joel. Very exhausting...it's never easy closing a chapter of your life. But I have today, and it's tiring...but it is exactly what I needed to do. The next phase of my life starts here."
His eyes widened, she knew that he could read between the lines, that she was telling him that she'd let go of her connection with the past, but she had no idea if he wanted to be part of that future. Corinne and Mike started moving, and she let her head roll the opposite way to smile at them both. "Thank you BFF. You are everything to me, you know that?"
Corinne laughed, "I love drunk Sammy...she's such a romantic." She stooped to kiss her cheek, "I'll be over tomorrow, ok? I'll help you unpack."
"What about the salon?"
She shrugged, "half day before the Christmas rush. Be here by one, ok?"
Joel stood and sa3w them to the door, Sammy was clearly in no condition to do that suddenly. Corinne smiled as Mike stepped out of the house, "You're good for her, I'm glad you're looking out for her, I've been so worried about her, you know?"
He gave a nod, suddenly the emotion of the moment was weighing heavily on him, before he could speak, Corinne tipped her head to the side as though she was analysing him.
"She never does things half measures, if she makes a decision...then she's almost stubborn about it. I mean why do you think she married Marcus?" She shook her head, "well anyway. Take care of hey, yes? She appears strong, and she used to be, but she's fragile now. Don't break her."
As he watched the couple retreat along the coastal road he stood frozen to the spot. What had Corinne been trying to say? There had never been as much as a hint that Marcus was anything but perfect for Sammy. He was his best friend, surely he'd have known if there were cracks in that relationship?
He thought back to the months when they planned their wedding, he hadn't been around then. In fact he had barely spoken to Marcus over the money that was already evidently missing from their business. He went on a lot of unexplained business trips too. He'd been distant, distracted...had he been like that to Sammy too?
He marched back into the room intent of asking some of those questions. But was greeted by her sleeping, head thrown back mouth open, a soft snore accompanying the rise and fall of her chest. On anyone else the pose would have been unflattering, but with Sammy? It was adorable. He felt a tug in his chest. He could so easily stay, look after her and Eleanor, be the person they both needed. But as he helped her to her feet, and they staggered towards the hallway he spotted the picture of Marcus that adorned this particular room.
She'd loved him, there was no doubt about that, despite the way her friend had cast doubt over that earlier, and he wasn't Marcus, and he wasn't about to become his substitute. That was for sure. Tucking an arm around her he physically helped her up the stairs, then into her room. She sighed, half awake, half asleep, more through exhaustion than alcohol he knew.
"Thank you Joel," she murmured, "for always being there for me...for us. You are very special."
He smiled at her, tucking her hair behind her ear, "I like being here for you both."
Nodding she gave him a smile, then slumped to the bed behind her, the moment gone. He lifted her feet on to the bed, then pulled a duvet over her, as he left the room he reached for the light, and as he hit the switch, plunged the room into darkness, the photo of Sammy and Marcus smiled up at him from the dresser.
The pain of that felt like a lance to his chest. Almost staggering he climbed the stairs to the attic bedroom that he was staying in and closed the door.
He had to get back to London as soon as possible. It was the only way he'd survive, because Sammy was right, he wasn't sorry and he couldn't pretend that he wasn't totally absorbed by everything that was Sammy Turner.
Sammy had had a restless night, firstly Eleanor had woken very soon after she'd hit the hay, and by two am, she succumbed and let her daughter share her bed. But she never truly relaxed when she was in bed beside her. So when eight am came around, Sammy felt as tired as the previous night.
Propping pillows around the restless baby, Sammy got up and securing the baby gate at the top of the stairs made her way downstairs.
She half expected to see Joel sat there, but he wasn't. With a sigh she started to make coffee, then plugged in her small radio and tuned into a local station. She started to make pancakes, they were Eleanor's favourite and it was as she was whisking the batter rather aggressively that the back door flew open.
She looked up startled to see Joel stood there soaking wet part from rain, but his flushed face, shorts and t-shirt hinted that a large part of it was perspiration from running. Smiling awkwardly he kicked off his shoes at the door then stepped into the kitchen.
"There's nowhere better to run, really there isn't...until it rains. There is zero shelter on those cliffs."
Giggling Sammy tossed him a towel, "you may want to warm up a bit. I'm making pancakes. Twenty minutes?"
Rubbing his face and hair he gave a muffled, "great," from underneath it.
He was still in the shower when Eleanor woke, so she brought the baby down and started to feed her pancakes and milk as she babbled away in her highchair.
It was a long time before Joel showed his face, and when he did, Sammy could tell he was stressed. He accepted the coffee and breakfast politely, but there was no sparkle in his eye. Earlier she'd unpacked most of Ellie's toys, so part of the lounge was like a toy shop. AS she unleashed her daughter to the heaven that that was, she moved so that she was midway between the rooms and could keep her eye on both. Leaning against the doorframe she watched as he read the paper, eyes down, mechanically feeding himself pancakes.
"Are you back to ignoring me now? Is that how this works?"
He chewed for a moment, his head still bowed. "No," he finally offered.
She stepped towards him, "really? That's all this is worth?"
He slammed down his fork and then hissed in anger at himself, if she doubted that his glance in the direction of Eleanor confirmed it. "What is worth? I'm here, I'm helping...I'm being a friend."
She rolled her eyes, "like that's it."
Sighing he faced her fully; "there's nothing more than that Sammy. I've told you that."
"I don't believe that, and I don't think you do either."
Shaking his head he stepped towards her, "don't make more of this than there is. I'm doing the right thing by my best friend."
Sammy stepped back at that wounded by the ambiguity of his words. "Really? So you are ONLY here because of some sense of guilt towards Marcus. I am nothing, Eleanor is nothing?"
"I didn't say that."
"Yes you did. We appreciate all your help, but neither me nor my daughter are a charity case. I don't need your pity." She gave a small laugh, "to think I was starting to enjoy your company, being with you..." Taking a deep breath she straightened her spine, "I think you should go Joel. I'll always be grateful for all your help..."
"Don't say that."
Again she gave a wry laugh, "at least I'm saying SOMETHING! I can't do mind games and I can't do THIS. You treating me like some...duty. I'd rather finish things on my own."
She wasn't sure what he'd do, but she knew this ultimatum was pivotal in whatever this relationship was between them, and when he emerged half an hour later with his bag in his hand she felt real tears well in her eyes.
"So this is it?"
He shrugged, "you asked me to leave."
She shook her head, "no, I asked you to be honest. Not sure you still are...but I have one child in my life, I can't deal with another."
His nostrils flared in anger, and for the second time she had hoped he'd bite, that he'd retaliate. But he didn't. He just glared for a moment, then dropped his eyes and headed out of her home.
Joel hadn't travelled an hour on the train before his phone rang. For a moment he'd presumed it was going to be Sammy and he was all set for a sarcastic greeting. But it wasn't a number he recognised.
"Joel Edwards."
After a momentary pause, a familiar voice offered, "Joel, it's Clifford. I was hoping we could catch up, meet for dinner?"
Joel squirmed, since the other man had almost caught him in flagrante with Sammy in the recent past, he'd become extremely paranoid. Was he aware that he was on his way back from helping her move?
"I'm out of town...until later anyway."
Clifford laughed, "I know, I called your secretary and she told me you were in Cornwall. I called Sammy - I'm glad she's finally settled, but she said you'd left. But I couldn't get an answer on your phone."
"The signal on this route is worse than useless. Can we meet tomorrow?"
He needed a night alone to lick his wounds, to regroup. A stilted dinner with one of the only people who could currently make him doubt himself was as far from what he wanted as possible.
"I'm going to meet my granddaughter for the first time tomorrow, so I was hoping we could meet later. Whatever time, you dictate."
He hated that he groaned in disappointment, Clifford was a good man, "this train gets in around half three. I'll need to dive home and change. Could we say five? There's a great Italian near mine?" The last thing he wanted was an evening in Claridge's or the Ritz. Low key and local. That was his bargain.
"Excellent. Why don't we make it six? Give you time to get sorted."
"Great. I'll send you the restaurant details once I've booked the table."
It was only five thirty. In theory he could have made it by five easily, but as he had another hour he turned to the liquor cabinet for some Dutch courage. He felt on such a back foot going to this meeting that thought of a few shots of bourbon surging through his veins was a welcome distraction, and a defence of sorts.
It burned a track to his stomach, a warmth in his veins and for a few moments nothing else affected him, but that was never going to last. He had been a bastard to Sammy, really upset her, and she wasn't the sort who was easily saddened. Not after all she'd been through. Running a hand through his hair in exasperation he closed his eyes for a moment. He couldn't put it off any longer.
With a groan he moved to the mirror and checked his reflection, he hadn't worn a suit in weeks. Something about Sammy's influence and spending a lot of time in the sleepy coastal town? He straightened his tie then groaned again, he felt as though he were walking to his death.
Clifford was an old school man, never seen without a shirt and tie, and always punctual. Today was no exception. Joel had barely set his backside down at the secluded table when the older man appeared at the door to the restaurant. Spotting Joel at the back of the building he gave a wave then waited for the maitre'd to return and show him to the table.
He stood as Clifford approached, and as he offered a hand the older man pulled him into an embrace.
"You're like a son to me, that deserves more than a handshake."
Laughing with him, Joel nodded then they sat opposite each other.
"Do you mind if we have red wine Joel? I've got a thing for Chiantis at the moment."
Joel nodded as he handed him the wine list, "they've got a great Barolo 2009 riserva."
After a few moments of studying it, Clifford smiled, "perfect."
There was silence as they perused the menu, and then the waiter took their orders, both of them opting for steak.
"So," Clifford leaned back in his seat and cradled the globe of wine in his hands. "I'm glad you agreed to dinner."
Joel's heart started to race wondering what this might mean, "it's always a pleasure to meet with you Clifford."
Their starters arrived almost awkwardly and they both sat closer to the table. Clifford chewed for a moment then took a drink of wine before he said, "so about the other morning."
If it was possible to turn scarlet, then Joel did, at that very moment. "The other morning?" His voice was a croak.
Clifford smiled, "when I came to yours..." Joel tried to swallow the lump in his throat in any way he could. "You...well Sammy was there. You seemed embarrassed."
"Nothing happened. She's my friend. She was just visiting. There's nothing more to it." His words flew out in a babble.
Clifford laughed, "this isn't an attack. You are a man of scruples Joel. I get that."
Joel blushed again, if only he knew.
"But what I'm saying...what I'm trying to say is that I have no say over what you do, you OR Sammy, and you don't have to ever be embarrassed in front of me, whatever happens, whatever you do. You are a great man and you deserve to move on, like everyone else. All I see is someone waiting; I'm just not sure for what."
For a moment Joel felt the prickle of tears threaten his eyes, he'd grown up without family, without parents, without anyone caring about him. Other than Marcus. But now, here was his best friend's father supporting him, encouraging him.
"I'm ok Clifford."
He nodded, "you are ok. But you should be better than ok, you should strive for perfect. I'm glad you're selling the business."
"Sold." He interrupted, "I've sold it already."
Clifford nodded, "GOOD. This is exactly what you need. That has been a chain around your neck for years. Don't you think that I saw everything? You giving up EVERYTHING, Marcus reaping the rewards yet still living a life." He sipped at his wine again, "you deserve to be happy, and I don't think you've truly been happy, have you?"
Joel blinked rapidly wanting to fight the tears that threatened to fall, "I...er..."
Clifford sighed, "sorry, I don't mean to sound so controlling."
He took a deep breath, "no you're right. I am planning a holiday you know? I haven't had a decent break in years, so I'm going to take a long trip."
Clifford grinned, "that's great."
"Yep, extended holiday, that's next on the agenda."
That meant forgetting all that he had left at the coast, that meant clean break, that meant drawing a line in the sand.