Tempting Fate Part 18

Elliott will be here soon. And the turkey is almost ready. But there is just time for a phone call. Gabby ladles some eggnog into a cup and takes the phone into the hallway, where she sits on the stairs and dials home.

*Darling!' her mother answers. *I was just saying to your father that I wondered where you were! Where are you? What are you doing this year for Christmas?'

*The same as always,' Gabby says. *I invited Elliott to come and he said yes, so we're all together again. Like a proper family.'

*Oh. That sounds ... cosy.'

*Why do you say it like that?' Gabby feels herself bristle.

*I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything. I just don't want you to get your hopes up.'

Gabby remembers how Josephine said the same thing. Her hopes are up, it is true, but why is everyone so worried about it? The worst that can happen is nothing, in which case life will carry on. Gabby is sure there really is no greater hurt that can occur, nothing more that can happen to make things worse than they already are. And would she have wanted the excitement and antic.i.p.ation of the last few days to have been different? No! They have been the single bright spots in her life of late. Even if that is all there is a and those moments of joy at the prospect of what might be are followed by days, weeks of disappointment a it will, surely, have been worth it.

*What's the worst that can happen?' Gabby says lightly. *That my hopes are dashed? So what? Mum, he's my husband. I love him. I never wanted us to be apart, and please don't say I should have thought of that before I was unfaithful, because I already know.'

*I wasn't going to say that, darling. I know you love him. We love him too. Nothing would make me happier than for the two of you to get back together, and I can't bear seeing you in pain.'

*You haven't seen me.'

*Ah. Yes. I know. But I am planning on coming when the baby's born.'

*You'd better, because the only thing I'm certain of is that I won't be able to do it all by myself.'

*Actually, I beg to differ,' her mother says. *I will come, and I will do everything you need me to do, but, Gabby, you have always been the most independent and self-sufficient of children. I so wanted you to need me when you were little, but you never did; you were always perfectly happy off on your own.'

But that's not true, Gabby wants to say. I did need you. I just couldn't tell you because you never wanted to hear me.

She doesn't say that. It's Christmas. Why rock the boat now?

Chapter Twenty-Seven.

*Elliott? Will you carve the turkey?' Gabby frowns, wis.h.i.+ng she didn't have to call him in such a formal way to come into the kitchen to help. Yearning for the old days, when he automatically a.s.sumed certain roles, turkey carving being one of them.

*Coming!' he calls from the dining room, where he has been laughing with the girls, who are giddy with delight at their family being back together again. Elliott has been on fine form. He looks wonderful, thinks Gabby, much more ... handsome ... than he used to be. He has lost weight and looks younger.

He is wearing his old cords tonight, his old loafers, but the s.h.i.+rt is new, and it galls Gabby slightly to see him in something she doesn't know, something she has not bought him, because Gabby has always been in charge of Elliott's wardrobe, Elliott professing to hate nothing more than buying clothes.

*That's nice,' she said when he walked in and took off his Barbour. She fingered the soft sleeve of the s.h.i.+rt. *It brings out the blue of your eyes.'

*Oh this?' He looked down, as if surprised to see himself wearing that particular s.h.i.+rt on this particular day. *I got it a couple of days ago. Glad you like it.'

Gabby smiled, attempting to keep her voice light, wanting to know more. *You hate shopping for clothes. Where did you get it?'

*Somewhere on Main Street,' he said nonchalantly, turning away and leaving Gabby wondering why he seemed reluctant to pursue the conversation.

*Here,' Gabby says as she pulls open a drawer and withdraws Elliott's ap.r.o.n. *You don't want to stain your new s.h.i.+rt.'

*Oh. Thanks.' He smiles a smile of genuine grat.i.tude as he ties the ap.r.o.n round himself, and the awkwardness they have both been feeling finally loses its edge as he falls into a routine unchanged for many years.

*Honey? Can you bring me the board with the ridge?' he calls after a while, and Gabby's heart skips a beat. Honey. He called her honey. This meaningless word seems loaded, has more meaning than anything else Elliott has said in months.

Seeing how friendly and warm, how relaxed he is, eases Gabby's anxiety and makes her see a burning light at the end of the tunnel.

If you were to peep through the window, and didn't know otherwise, you would look at the family eating this meal together and think them unutterably happy. No, more than that. You would think them unequivocally right. They all look right together. The two pretty girls, one brunette, one strawberry blonde, the proud father and the expectant mother glowing with happiness.

Gabby looks round the table not only with happiness but with overflowing hope. Her family is back together again. When she smiles at Elliott, with love in her eyes, he smiles back, and the girls look from one to the other with delight.

As Elliott pours brandy over the Christmas pudding and sets it alight, he and Gabby cheer while the girls roll their eyes, neither of them liking Christmas pudding, but both of them loving the tradition of doing the same thing every year; doing the same thing this year.

The mince pies follow, and the chocolate log Gabby made for the girls a the chocolate log she always makes for the girls.

Then, stuffed, they retire to the family room, where Elliott builds up the fire while Gabby starts to string popcorn and cranberries onto floss. The girls excitedly unwrap the decorations, and, catching each other's eye from time to time, they make surrept.i.tious gestures at the sofa, where their parents are sitting together, gestures that are filled with hope and optimism.

Gabby is waiting until the girls go up to bed before giving Elliott his gift. They send Olivia and Alanna upstairs, amidst much grumbling, but then Elliott stands up, announcing he'd better make a move.

Gabby's heart plummets. *I thought you were staying.' She wishes her voice hadn't emerged in a whine.

*I can't,' he says. *I need to go home.'

*But I bought a bed for the spare room. It's an inflatable bed but it's really comfortable. I made it up ...' She stops, not wanting to sound desperate. *The girls want you to stay,' she tries a new tack. *They've been talking about waking you up in the morning. It's Christmas, Elliott. Why not stay? Think of all the drunk drivers you'll be avoiding. I promise I won't try to seduce you.' This last is an attempt at a joke, which falls flat to both their ears.

*I'm not worried about that,' Elliott says gently. *It's just better if I go. I'll be back early and we'll make breakfast. I won't miss anything. I promise.'

*Wait.' Gabby reaches down towards the back of the tree, where she fumbles until she finds his gift. *I got you something. I wanted to give it to you when we were alone.'

Elliott's face falls. *Oh, Gabby. You didn't have to. I don't have anything for you.'

*That's okay,' she lies. There is nothing material Elliott could give her that she would want, other than as evidence that he had thought of her at all. Still, she reminds herself, he is a man. They don't think in the way women do.

He stands for a while tapping the box in the palm of his hand, looking as if he doesn't quite know what to do with it.

*Open it,' she encourages, no longer certain this is the right thing to have done, to have spent quite as much money as she did on a watch for her soon-to-be-ex-husband.

Reluctantly, slowly, Elliott unwraps the paper. He folds the wrapping paper into a neat parcel then insists on rolling up the ribbon, while Gabby refrains from clicking her fingers with impatience.

He stares at the box, at the watch company's lettering on the top, looking bewildered and sad.

*Open it,' Gabby says again, softly, wis.h.i.+ng the floor could open up and swallow her shame, for it is blindingly obvious now what she was trying to do, even though she couldn't see it at the time. This is her guilt gift. Like the gifts of adulterous men, men who leave their mistresses and stop on the way home to buy glittering bracelets for their wives. A wordless apology, an expunction of guilt.

Elliott says nothing as he opens the box and gazes at the watch.

*It's the watch you loved,' whispers Gabby. *Remember?'

He doesn't gasp with pleasure, or amazement, or joy. He doesn't take the watch out of its box and try it on as he did all those months ago in the store, when his eyes feasted on it in awe.

Elliott closes the box and looks at Gabby. *Thank you. It's beautiful. But I'm not going to accept it.'

Gabby feels the p.r.i.c.k of tears. *Why not, Elliott? It's just a gift. It's a thank you for ... I don't know. For being such a good husband. A good father. It's an apology for everything I put you through. I want you to have it ...' She's babbling now and tails off as Elliott gently places the watch on the hall table.

*There's something I have to tell you,' he says quietly.

A million things go through her head. Cancer. He has cancer. Oh G.o.d, that's why he's got so thin. He's being transferred. He's moving to Alaska. Or Canada. Somewhere far, far away. He's a oh G.o.d, please no a he's seen a lawyer and he's started divorce proceedings.

Gabby looks up at him with fearful eyes as Elliott swallows.

*I'm seeing someone,' he says, not looking at her as he says the words.

*Seeing someone? What do you mean? Dating?'

He gives an embarra.s.sed smile. *Yes. I suppose "dating". I wanted you to hear it from me rather than from anyone else.'

*Anyone else? Why would I hear it from anyone else?' Gabby narrows her eyes as it dawns on her. *Do I know her?'

Elliott nods. *It's Trish.'

Gabby sucks in her breath. Trish. Perfect, blonde Trish. Trish who is doubtless a millionaire several times over. Trish who has always made Gabby feel inadequate in every way.

Afterwards, Gabby thinks back to the moment Elliott uttered the word *Trish', and sees herself physically deflate, like a character in a cartoon. She sees her shoulders slump and her chin drop down onto her chest, her legs giving way as she wobbles to the floor.

Of course that doesn't happen. Not externally. Externally her shoulders slump just a little, her eyes widen to a startled understanding, a disappointment, but nothing gives Elliott any indication of the pain and grief she actually feels.

Gabby doesn't say much after that. She forces a smile to acknowledge his thanks for a lovely evening, and nods when he says he'll be back in the morning. Of course he has to leave. Of course he can't stay the night. He has to go and curl up with Trish. He has to make love to Trish. He has to take Trish in his arms and kiss the tip of her nose, just as he used to with her, and tell her how much he loves her.

She waits until she can no longer hear his car driving off down the road, then she slowly sinks onto the bottom step of the stairs.

Chapter Twenty-Eight.

Trish is upstairs in bed as Elliott quietly lets himself into her house, still feeling a little awkward about having a key, although Trish has insisted.

He walks through the hallway admiring her Christmas decorations and how perfect everything looks, beautiful enough for a magazine a which, in fact, it is: a huge interiors magazine has just been to take photographs for next year's edition.

The house smells of pine and cinnamon and winter warmth. Nothing is out of place here. Everything is bright and s.h.i.+ny and new. A huge, white, porcelain Buddha casts a benevolent smile over the living room, where the sofas are white with turquoise accents, the lamps are made from gourds painted turquoise, and the Christmas decorations have been chosen to match the decor. Even the books have been covered with white parchment paper, the odd book wrapped in turquoise alligator skin.

It is the most beautiful house Elliott has ever been in. He just wishes it was a little more comfortable. The sofas are modern and hard, and he is terrified of spilling a drink, or crumbs being ground into the rug. He teases Trish that he'll move a La-Z-Boy in while she's not looking, and although he is joking he really misses his comfortable chair at home.

The place he used to call home.

Trish wears a silk nightgown. Never before has he come across anyone who wears a nightgown, unless it's a cotton one, short and printed with a whimsical design. Trish wears a nightgown every night, always ivory, silky, strappy. This is, to her, what flannel pyjamas are to Gabby. He didn't think women like Trish existed any more, and, even if they did, he definitely wouldn't have expected a woman like Trish to be interested in a man like him.

It was Tim's idea. Elliott didn't know this until afterwards. Tim and Claire invited Trish to join them for dinner one night, Trish having broken up with her boyfriend some time before.

*What was the matter with him? He seemed like a great guy,' Elliott remembers asking.

*I think he was. But he wasn't the guy for her. She needs someone older. More stable. Honestly? I think he was probably just about s.e.x.'

*That's a problem?' Elliott asked. Tim laughed.

The dinner had been perfectly lovely. There certainly hadn't been any flirting as the four of them sat round the kitchen table, but there had been lots of laughing, and Trish had clearly been intrigued by Elliott, genuinely keen to hear about his work, asking him thoughtful questions. He missed being heard, being thought of as interesting, rather than being taken for granted. At the end of the night, as Trish got up to leave, Tim suggested Elliott walk her to her car.

*I really enjoyed getting to know you,' she said. *We should do this again.'

Elliott just stared at her, having no idea what to say. He had been married for ever, had dated a hundred years ago as a very young man, had no idea how to pursue, or whether this meant something, or what he was supposed to do next.

Trish made the move for him. She leaned forward and kissed him, very softly, and not for very long, on the lips. When she stepped back she was smiling. *You should call me,' she said before getting into her car, beaming a smile at him and reversing out of the driveway.

Elliott walked back into the house in a state of shock.

*She kissed me!' he muttered to Tim, who high-fived him. *What do I do now?'

*Now you call her. Not now a I mean, tomorrow. Ask her for dinner. d.a.m.n. Claire was right. I can't believe she kissed you on the first date. It wasn't even a date, and she kissed you! Was it hot?'

*Claire was right about what?'

*She said she thought Trish was interested in you. Apparently she's been asking about you for a while. The only reason Claire didn't want to set up anything is because she feels she's betraying Gabby.'

*Even though they're not speaking?'

*She misses her, you know? But we made our choice.' He gave Elliott a rueful smile, as if the choice wasn't made freely, as if their friends.h.i.+p had suffered from having been put in the position of making a choice.

Elliott was confused. He had gone to stay with them simply because Tim was his best friend and he couldn't think of what else to do, where else to go. He hadn't meant to force a choice on them. He never asked it of them.

There were so many things Elliott hadn't asked for, Trish being one of them.

During the first few dates, Elliott felt as if he was in some surreal version of his life. This was him. Elliott. Married with children. He didn't go to smart restaurants with glamorous women and charm them with his stories. h.e.l.l, he didn't even have any stories. Except, he found he did. He found his stories, and his humour, and his charm. He asked lots of questions, and relaxed under the gaze of a gorgeous, intelligent woman.

The first time they slept together was strange. Fantastic. Overwhelming. Terrifying. He and Gabby had a routine. It was comfortable and quick and suited them both. Here he found himself with new territory to explore. Trish didn't like being touched like that; she wanted it softer, but harder there ...

They both moved over and under, excited by the discovery, flipping like slippery fish until they exploded, first Trish, then Elliott, in unexpected delight.

Afterwards they hadn't, as he and Gabby had done for so long, rolled onto their respective sides of the bed, picked up their books or turned on the television, and said only a handful of words to each other before one gave the other a quick peck on the lips, switched off the bedside lamp and went to sleep.

With Trish in his arms, they lay talking softly for hours, his murmurs punctuated by the tinkle of her laughter until she fell asleep, actually in his arms. It was desperately uncomfortable, but he didn't want to move and disturb the perfection of this moment. This exquisite, tiny blonde, in her rustling silk, sleeping so prettily on his dead arm. Eventually he had to move, and Trish just burrowed under the sheet without waking up. Elliott gazed at her, unable to believe they had just made love.