Chapter Thirty-Eight

Zoe lit her second cigarette off her first and downed the rest of her buck's fizz. One hour of peace, then Jonathon and his family would return from their annual family walk to the next village for mulled wine and mince pies at his brother's house. Zoe opted to stay at the house, citing cooking reasons. Really, she wanted some time away from his bloody family.

Eliot, the eldest son, and his drippy wife, Paula, clearly despised her, and their two feral kids, Harriet and Joshua, had no concept of the word no. Twice Zoe found six year-old Harriet rummaging in her handbag, the last time pulling out cigarettes, tampons and using her favourite Chanel lipstick to draw a picture of Granddad. But they were nothing compared to Ed.

Ed she wanted to strangle.

Or screw.

He was a bleeding heart liberal who earned peanuts writing for some environmental magazine, but his empathy for the world didn't appear to extend to Zoe. The evening before, when she'd excused herself to get ready for the Mill party, Ed had poured her another glass of champagne, his cold eyes glaring into hers.

'But surely someone like you,' he'd said, 'only needs to throw on an old rag, a little lipstick and the latest diamonds my dad bought you.'

He was an obnoxious little bugger. She flicked her cigarette end into the bushes. Sadly, he was an obnoxious little bugger who took after his father. He was Jonathon twenty-five years ago and Zoe couldn't help thinking, what if she'd met Ed first?

'Naughty, naughty.' Ed stood leaning against the kitchen door, his hands in his pockets, his dark hair contrasting fabulously with his Arran jumper. 'Daddy will find out.'

'Back from the walk already.' She flashed her sweetest smile, refusing to let him wind her up.

'I didn't go. I said I'd help my wonderful step-mother-to-be in the kitchen.'

She stalked past him, hating that his aftershave made her want to tie him to a four-poster bed. 'Like I need your help.'

'Dad thought it was a very nice gesture.'

'Bite me.'

He looked her over, as though he were contemplating just that. 'Oh come on, I just want to talk.'

'About what?' She opened the fridge, needing the cold air to cool her flushing cheeks, and took out the champagne.

'I'll have one.' He sauntered over, leaning against the island. 'Coincidences.'

Zoe raised her eyebrows as she refilled her own glass and one for him.

'A few months ago, I came home for the weekend. Mum had this amazing skunk. I know she used to score it off your aunt-'

'Great aunt.'

'Your great aunt, but Maggie was dead, so who was the new dealer, I asked. Your father's latest whore, she replied.'

Zoe smiled over her glass. 'I considered it a good deed. Your mum had needs and your dad had needs. I like to help.'

'Oh, come on, you're shagging him for the money.'

'I'm shagging him, because he's an amazing man.'

Ed stepped closer, invading her space. 'Is it a coincidence that the whore who supplied my mother with skunk happens to live next door to the vet's where the ketamine that killed her was stolen from?'

Zoe didn't back off. 'Yes. Yes, it's a massive bloody coincidence. Is this how you want to spend Christmas, accusing me of supplying the ket?'

'Did you supply the ket?'

'The night it was stolen, I was shagging your father at a boutique hotel overlooking Grasmere. And the night your mother received the ket from her dealer, I was dressed as the Queen of Hearts, surrounded by half of Gosthwaite. It was a great party. You'd have loved it. The police very thoroughly checked my story.'

Ed leaned in, putting his lips next to her ear. 'Thing is, stepmummy, I think you're a liar.'

He stood so close she could feel his semi and Zoe turned her head so her lips hovered an inch from his. 'What do you really want, Ed? To play with your daddy's toys?'

His lips curled in a mirthless laugh, his semi growing and pushing against her hip. 'You're a gold-digging whore.'

'Shame you don't have any gold to dig.'

Their lips met in a hot, breathless kiss, their tongues claiming new territory. She throbbed, her pants already soaking. Jesus, even Jonathon had to do more than just kiss her. She pulled away, staring at Ed.

He stared back. 'Oh, Christ.'

'You need to leave.' She begged him. 'Don't bugger this up for me. I really like him. I honestly do.'

'It's wasted on him. He screwed around on my mum for years. He'll do it to you too.' His right hand reached down, slowly hitching up the hem of her jersey dress. 'You can't marry him.'

Zoe wanted to be sick, repulsed by how much she wanted Ed. 'You just want revenge.'

'This isn't revenge and you feel the same.' His hand ventured further, gliding across the silk of her knickers. The damp patch had him groaning into her hair.

She kissed him, sucking on his bottom lip, fumbling with the buttons on his jeans as he pushed her knickers to one side. Zoe ground against him, encouraging him, needing him to go further.

'Jesus, you're wet.' He closed his eyes as his finger slipped inside and her muscles squeezed, begging for more. He obliged. 'I want you, upstairs in my dad's bed.'

A third finger slid in, stretching her until she whimpered. 'No. Here. Now.'

He spun her around, bending her over the breakfast bar. Or maybe he wasn't his father's son. Ed pushed up her dress with one hand and pulled her knickers to the side with the other. The thrill of been controlled by him had her pushing back against him. She'd never needed anything like this before.

He entered her, rough and huge, muttering the things he'd wanted to do to her since he'd first seen her at the funeral. Shagging her like this was only the start. She was his, he said, and she always would be. Zoe knew he was right.

Ed's fingers teased her and his teeth bit into her neck. He marked her, owning her, and she didn't stop him. She couldn't. Her body shuddered, coming against his hand and ten seconds later, he cried out, pumping himself inside her.

Zoe collapsed, resting her forehead against the cool marble worktop. It was the first time she'd had unprotected sex in ten years. How had she let that happen?

'Sorry,' he whispered, still inside her, 'but I had to.'

You can, whenever you want. Her weakness scared her, but the thought of Ed never screwing her again, scared her even more.

'Did you supply Mum with the ket?' His words were murmured against her hair.

Zoe turned, facing him with honesty as his come dripped from her. She shook her head. 'But if I had, I... I wouldn't feel bad. She was in so much pain. Your dad said she was smiling when he found her. Maybe she thought it was time to let go.'

'You're sweet.' Ed kissed her, his mouth dominating hers. 'For fifteen years, my mother was a zombie in the living room. Her choice, Zoe. My life's better without her. It's good to admit that to someone.'

Zoe held his face. 'You can tell me anything.'

'I don't mind dad finding someone new. Hell, he deserves to be happy after nursing her for fifteen years, but if he does have a new wife, I'd like one who'd make a half decent mother, not one who brings out every oedipal bone in my body.'

In his bedroom, one cluttered with sports trophies and writing awards, Zoe sucked Ed's dick while he told her to move to London, to move in with him, and when she lay on her back, with him slowly sinking into her, she agreed. There was only one man for her, and it was Edward Carr. To prove his point, Ed made her come four times in the hour they had. The final time, Zoe broke down, sobbing, but Ed held her, whispering he loved her.

What the hell was she going to do? This wasn't how it was supposed to be.

Libby's text came at the perfect moment. Need you, Emu.

Zoe replied, I'll be there, Koala Bear.

Ten minutes later, Zoe sat in her BMW, Ed's come still soaking her knickers, and screamed. That obnoxious little prick had ruined everything.

*

Curled up on the wicker sofa in the garden, Libby pulled her hat lower over her wet hair and sipped her tea. Half-twelve. Where would Patrick be now, at his parents? Would his dad give him a hard time for going home with her? For the eightieth time that day, tears rolled down her cheeks.

'Hi,' Zoe whispered as she crept out with a bottle of champagne and two mugs. 'I figured you wouldn't be in the mood for celebrating, but it's bloody good stuff. The mugs will stop it feeling like a party.'

Libby tried not to sob. 'Thanks for coming. I'm sorry to drag you away from Jonathon.'

Zoe filled the mugs. 'Honestly, I was glad of the chance to escape. Eliot hates me, the grandkids are the spawn of Satan and don't get me started on Ed. They can cook their own bloody dinner. Let's get shitfaced.'

'Have you got cigarettes too?'

'That bad?'

In the grey, frosty light, sipping a mug of vintage Veuve Cliquot and chain-smoking Marlboro Gold, Libby explained about the twelve hours she'd spent with Patrick.

'Zo, I'd give up anything, everything for him. I really do love him, but I can't risk him being disowned by his parents. And what if when I go to London... What if, I still love ballet more? He won't come with me.'

'He might. He loves you, Lib. I saw it the day he came to ask me for Hyssop. He's scared. Give him a break.'

'I don't want to sneak around for six months.'

'Do you really want to go back to the company?'

'If I can't have him, definitely. If I can have him...I don't know, but I have to find out.' Libby drained her mug. 'I've rang Paolo about four times today to see if I can stay at his next week. He's ignoring my calls. Probably too busy shagging Grace.'

Libby wallowed in her misery until, she realised Zoe's furrowed brow hadn't eased. In fact, her nervous blinking had increased, as had the rate she was knocking back the champagne.

'What's up?' Libby asked.

'Nothing.'

'It's after one, there's a chicken in the fridge and you've not made a move to cook it.'

Zoe lit another cigarette. 'Not hungry.'

Oh god no. Libby's own worries waned as concern for Zoe took over. If Zoe didn't want to cook, it meant Zoe didn't want to eat. This is how it would start; this is how it always started. Black tea and chain-smoking would come next. She'd start obsessively checking the calorie content on wrappers and packets. Then it'd be the gym, punishing herself on the cross-trainer for an hour at a time.

Libby put her arm around her. 'Six months on and we're almost back where we started. My boss has asked me to look for a new job and I'm still fairly unemployable. I'm leaving for London so I don't ruin my not-boyfriends life, but you, young lady, with your fabulous new fiance, you look more depressed. What happened?'

'I ruined everything, Lib.' As she had the day she met Libby fifteen years ago, Zoe cried. 'Please don't hate me.'

'As if. We've survived too much.'

Zoe's hands shook as she lit another cigarette. 'This morning... I shagged Jonathon's son.'

'Which one?' Libby bit back every lecturing word on her tongue.

'Ed. He's the younger one. I can't...I've never known anything like it. I couldn't stop myself.'

'Love at first sight?'

'Obsessive lust maybe, some physical and emotional bond. I lost control and I need it back.' Zoe took a long deep breath. 'What the hell do I do?'

'Surely, if you find something this powerful, you jump on it.'

'Not with him.'

'Why?'

'He's a stupid journalist for some liberal rag in London.'

'So he's got ethics and morals.'

'And gets paid accordingly.'

'Zo, it's not about money. It doesn't make you happy.'

'Aside from you, it's the only thing I can rely on.' Zoe swore. 'And first thing tomorrow, I need to find a chemist that's open. I need the morning after pill.'

Libby's mouth gaped open. Zoe never had sex without condoms and had regularly lectured Libby for relying on the pill with Paolo. Zoe wouldn't take the pill, claiming it made her fat. Really Zoe didn't want to get pregnant and condoms put her in charge of Mother Nature.

'Completely out of control,' Zoe sighed, staring at the decking. 'Have you got a spell to help with that?'

*

The second the clock struck seven, Patrick half-filled a vast wine glass, ignoring his father's disapproving frown. His shift on call was over. What would Libby be doing? Having roast chicken with Zoe, or sat with only Hyssop for company? Twice he'd almost gone round. The first time he arrived at the garden to see her halfway down the bridleway, starting what would turn out to be a two hour run. The second time, Zoe rocked up with two bottles. In the end, he'd decided if he couldn't talk to Libby, he may as well go to his parents and get drunk with Sam.

'Okay,' his mum said, holding up an imaginary dong. 'Dinner is served.'

He told Isla to wait in her basket and to his delight, she obediently curled up, earning herself a biscuit.

'You'll spoil that dog,' Sam said, patting his back. 'I like her ears.'

Patrick laughed, ushering his brother and Charlotte in front of him. They could all get stoned after the parents had gone to bed. That one pleasant note to his otherwise appalling day, fluttered out of the window as he walked into the dining room and Ms Olivia Wilde stared down at him, her eyes filled with tears.

'You've got to be bloody joking.'

'Patrick!' His father glared at him over his glasses.

This is your fault. You and your ridiculous ultimatum. 'Can we take it down?'

'Don't be silly, darling.' His mum pushed him towards his usual chair, the one facing Libby's portrait. 'I'm surprised you didn't bring her. I nearly invited her myself, but I wasn't sure if you'd be cross or not. Where is she? She doesn't have family around here, does she?'

'She's packing her bags.' He knocked back half his wine, trying not to look over Sam's head at the Broken Ballerina. 'She's going back to London so she doesn't land me in the paper.'

The silence descended.

Finally, Patrick turned to his father. 'She's going and it's your fault. What the hell did you say to her last night?'

'Nothing.' He frowned. 'I barely saw the girl. Jonathon wanted to introduce us to Zoe. They were discussing you, calling you an egotist. Bloody rude, if you ask me.'

'E... is for Egotist. E was empty on her list.' Patrick laughed and stood up. 'I'm out of here.'

'Patrick, sit down,' Charlotte snapped.

Patrick stared at her. Sam stared at her. Their parents stared at her. Charlotte didn't do bossy. He did as he was told.

'The whole world doesn't revolve around you,' she went on. 'We have news. We wanted to tell you yesterday, but then you turned up with Isla. And then this afternoon, we nearly... but you were so bloody grumpy. I'm really sorry about Libby, but I won't let you bugger up Christmas. This should be the happiest day ever. I'm pregnant. You're going to be an uncle and we thought you'd be pleased, but if we waited for a moment when you weren't having some kind of drama, the baby would be born already. Sorry for making a fuss, Liz. Dinner's getting cold.'

But his mum was too busy mopping up tears to care. His dad was the first too move, hugging Charlotte. Patrick stared at his brother across the table. Sam smiled, and they met somewhere behind their mother's chair.

'I'm sorry, man.' Patrick closed his stinging eyes. What kind of selfish bastard had he become? 'Congratulations. Christ, bit of a shock.'

Sam nodded. 'After dinner, Charlotte will fall asleep in front of the TV. Fancy taking the dogs for a walk and getting stoned?'

More than anything in the bloody world. Letting his big brother go, Patrick took over hugging Charlotte, intermittently telling her she was amazing, he was an arse and he couldn't wait to be an uncle.

'All three of them are flat out,' Sam whispered, quietly closing the patio door while trying not to drop a bottle of Jura and two glasses. 'We can walk the dogs later.'

Patrick smiled and took out the joint he'd rolled earlier. 'I feel about fifteen.'

'Me too. Remember that time Juliet Knight and Sarah Barnes came round?'

Patrick laughed. 'And you got caught with Sarah? Christ, we were wasted. I would've got into Juliet's pants if you hadn't broken that window.'

'Ah, the days of behaving badly.'

'Long gone for you, sunshine.' Patrick studied his brother. Two years older, but definitely not wiser. Sam had been kicked out of two schools and got in more trouble with girls than even Patrick could comprehend. But witnessing all Sam's mistakes, had taught Patrick to be more careful. 'I can't believe you're going to be a dad. You scared?'

'Bricking it.' Sam took the joint. 'But don't tell Charlotte.'

'I think she'll know from the sheer terror in your eye every time Mum mentions pushchairs and cots.'

'Christ, don't.' Sam shuddered. 'What's going on with this ballerina girl? Kicking off at dad over her, brave lad. Mum said she met her at yours this morning. Must've been fun.'

'She cleaned the house on Christmas morning, just to have a nosy.'

'Who is she?'

Patrick handed his brother his phone, showing him a photo he'd snapped at Oscar's, of Libby braless in the silk top. Not a photo he intended to delete.

Sam grinned. 'She doesn't seem your type, but nice tits. I would.'

Patrick kicked his ankle, taking the joint back.

'So why isn't she here and why are you? Wouldn't be the first time you ditched Christmas dinner to shag a random blonde.'

'She's not a random blonde.' Patrick scowled. 'She's not here because when I told her about the ultimatum, she did what I thought she'd do. She ran away. She's got a job interview in London.'

'She just wanted a one night stand?'

'No.'

'So persuade her to stay.'

'We'd need to keep it secret, and she doesn't want that, not after Rob.'

'Is she the one who nearly split Rob and Van up? Nice girl.'

'Actually, she is.' Patrick sighed. 'But I think she wants some kind of commitment.'

Sam laughed. 'Aha, here's the problem. Nicole mark two.'

'Sod off, this is different. Libby's alright but I mean...' Patrick took a deep breath. 'How did you know Charlotte was... you know, a keeper.'

Sam shrugged. 'But when I started asking questions like that, I knew she was something else. What's so great about this Libby? Aside from her perfect tits.'

What's so great about her? Patrick explained the last few months - Robbie, the newspaper, the fell race, her birthday, and how he'd pissed her off by backing away once too often.

'It's dad's fault. If he'd just be reasonable-'

'Have to stop you there, little bro. This is your fault. You're the one who shagged the beauty queen in the park.'

'What the... You're supposed to be on my side.'

'I am, you wee idiot.'

Patrick sank the rest of his whisky. 'What the hell am I going to do?'

'It's easy. Man up and confess your undying love to her.'

Patrick shook his head.

'Well then, let her go to London, and pray your balls off that she comes back in six months.'

Letting the weed numb his body, Patrick sat back, remembering the perfect few hours he'd had with her. Would she be in bed now? Maybe he could go round. No, this was his hedonistic side coming out. But still, he could go round and persuade her that they could go out in secret. They could go for dinner in some other town. Hell, they could go away for the weekend.

Actually, that wasn't a bad idea. Would a city break work as an overblown romantic gesture? He hated Paris and Rome, most cities in fact. Maybe a weekend skiing? Did she ski? Yes, she and Zoe were supposed to go, but their passports were stolen and Zoe couldn't find her birth certificate in time. Surely a weekend away would count for something.

He'd talk to her tomorrow.