What Doesn't Kill You Page 2

  On the last occasion when the road flooded, leaving Logan cut off for several hours, Evie suggested they all might like to live together. Neither Griff nor his father responded well to that. Thankfully, she accepted their apologies, and their well-rehearsed explanation that living together would put extreme pressure on their already-strained relationship.

  It was a partial truth. Griff and Logan didn’t get along, but what was never revealed to Evie was the sense of betrayal Griff had lived with since the loss of his mother. He’d had six years of trying to understand why his father didn’t fight for her. Six years of trying to make peace with what happened.

  ‘I wish I had Evie’s accepting nature,’ Griff said, halting his car at a give way sign. ‘But I can’t forget what you did, Dad. Mum was the love of your life, the woman of your dreams …’ He released his grip on the steering wheel, flexed his fingers, and rotated his watch so the face was visible. Bloody thing, always rolling under. Three-twenty. Not as late as he thought. The dark skies were misleading.

  Checking the way was clear, he pushed down the accelerator and started the final few miles home.

  Evie was the woman of Griff’s dreams – warm-hearted, compassionate, sexy. She only had to breathe and he was turned on. He used to tell her that, and her ever-changing eyes would dazzle like cut emeralds, but in recent weeks, any suggestions of intimacy made her frown, agitating her eyes in to the stormy grey of the winter sea.

  Griff squared his shoulders, and locked his elbows. It was a mistake thinking of sex when he and Evie weren’t having any – hadn’t had any for weeks – not even the hot, fast, in-between-family-dramas sex they’d previously enjoyed, and they’d had a lot of that because with not enough hours in the day, or lockable rooms in the house, speed was of the essence.

  Maybe that was the issue – their love life was nothing more than speed dating between the sheets. But if that was the case, why hadn’t Evie told him she was unhappy? Why shut him out? She could talk to him about anything.

  Griff stabbed at the window button and breathed in the cool, wet air.

  That wasn’t right. She couldn’t talk to him about his father. He’d cut her off rather than risk his resentment and anger towards the man spilling into their world.

  ‘I love you for wanting to fix things,’ he’d say to her, ‘and I care about my dad, but we don’t get along. Not all fathers and sons do.’ Then he’d kiss her, and change the subject, leaving her to believe the rift was a result of too much testosterone in one family. He was maintaining the illusion he’d created when they’d first met. It was simpler and less painful than revealing the whole truth.

  ‘Bloody fool, Hendry.’ He thumped the steering wheel as it occurred to him he was now a father to a son himself. Evie was bound to worry the same thing would happen between him and Dylan. That would account for her quiet but persistent requests for Griff to visit Logan, to set aside their differences and get on. To prove he was capable of being in the same room as another Hendry male.

  Griff had declined every time.

  ‘Is that what this is about?’ he said, trying to see things from his wife’s perspective. If it was, she probably felt snubbed, ignored, and anxious for the future, but what did Griff know? These were mere theories. ‘I need you to talk, Evie,’ he said, glancing at his reflection in the rear-view mirror. ‘And I need to listen. Be a better husband. And a better son.’

  His first promise would be a joy to fulfil. The second, more of a trial.

  The country road, with all its dips and peaks, took him safely into Abbotsbury, past two pubs, and round to a busy back street. With cars parked along one side, and buildings the other, the road was narrow, but navigable, and to Griff, always interesting. Unlike the generic town flat in which he was now living – having moved out of the family home a fortnight ago – no two properties were the same, their single connection being the beautiful golden stone from which they were constructed. Roofs were thatched or tiled, apart from the row of disturbing corrugated asbestos-topped garages, and there was an eclectic mix of craft studios, shops and houses.

  The cottage came into view as Griff reached the allotments, as did Evie’s old, battered, and totally unreliable red Mini, abandoned on the gravel drive. Griff hadn’t expected to find his wife home – he’d expected to take Ozzy for his walk while the house was otherwise empty, but perhaps it was the perfect time to confront Evie. Their time apart had provided them both with space to think. If she missed him as intensely as he missed her …

  He squeezed his Land Rover next to her car.

  ‘Evie?’ he called as he opened the front door. ‘We need to talk.’ He dropped his keys on the phone table, hung his coat on the reclaimed tree root stand, and headed for the kitchen.

  There she was, her shoulders hunched, and the waves of her red hair trickling onto the large, oval table. She remained still and silent.

  In the far corner, snuffling and fidgeting on a large pet bed, an Old English Sheepdog released a short, sharp bark.

  ‘Hey, Ozzy. We’ll play later.’ The dog snapped his jaws together in response. ‘Good boy.’ Griff signalled for him to settle, waited for his instruction to be obeyed, and then turned to Evie. His promise to listen started now. ‘Hard day?’ He crouched beside her. ‘Has my father been difficult?’ Leaning in to see her reaction, he caught the gentle scent of baby powder drifting around her. ‘Dylan okay?’ He pulled out a chair, settled himself, and crossed his ankles.

  ‘Dylan’s fine.’ Evie raised her head. ‘I thought you were here to walk Ozzy.’

  ‘I will.’ Griff narrowed his eyes. ‘But don’t you think we should talk? I hate all of this conflict. I hate being apart from you. I miss my family.’ He hooked his feet around the chair legs and cast his gaze around the kitchen. Everything was in its place. Work shifts permitting, he’d been back every day for the last two weeks to walk Ozzy, and put Dylan to bed, and he had yet to see evidence of another man. Evie had invented the reason she’d abandoned their marriage, and Griff needed to know why.

  His eyes were drawn back to her as she swept her hair behind her ears, adjusted the collar on her polo neck, and joined her hands together.

  ‘Logan is never difficult,’ she said.

  ‘What?’

  ‘You asked if your father’s being difficult. I’m telling you he’s not. He’s had a tough few days and needs someone with him.’ Her lips pinched together and the blood diffused into her cheeks. ‘He asked after you. I told him you were working.’

  A prickle swept across the back of Griff’s neck at the lie. He flicked it away and directed his attention to his watch. It was face down again. ‘Can wrists lose weight?’

  He melted at Evie’s touch, as she teased the watch into position. It sent a whole different kind of prickle through him.

  ‘Sorry.’ She tucked her hands away and stared at the floor.

  Griff adjusted his position, swept his fingers through his hair, and loosened his shirt from his back. Sexual tension was constricting his thoughts. Hell, it was constricting everything. He leaned his elbows on his knees, rested his forehead on his interlocking fists, and breathed out to the count of five. When he looked up, Evie was standing by the sink.

  ‘Logan would love to have you and Dylan there together. Three generations of Hendry men in one room. You could go in the morning. Take Ozzy, too.’

  The shaggy-coated, grey and white dog sat upright at the mention of his name.

  ‘The four of you could go for a drive.’

  Ozzy yapped.

  ‘Not now, boy.’ Evie shook her head to reinforce her words. ‘I can spend some mother-daughter time with Tess. We can cook a roast. You could bring Logan here, and we’ll sit down to lunch as a family. I’ll take him home after tea.’

  Griff hesitated while he considered what the correct response should be. He very much doubted his father would be happy to see him, and he could imagine Tess’s reaction to being asked to help with Sunday lunch. No. This was Evie asking him to demo
nstrate he could remain civil in Logan’s company. She’d said it herself; Three generations of Hendry men in one room.

  ‘Family dinner?’ He chewed over the idea. ‘Dad doesn’t know, does he? About our …’ Griff searched for the term. ‘Separation. You’ve not told him, have you?’

  Evie fiddled with the cuff of her jumper, poking its fake button in and out of its fake slit. ‘I haven’t told anyone. Have you?’

  Griff shook his head. In the days when he believed his dad was a superhero, his parents were the epitome of perfect coupledom, and until a few weeks ago, Griff was happily matching his father’s example of a good husband. Or so he thought. He had no desire to lose face by telling Logan the marriage had faltered. That would be admitting defeat. Griff never admitted defeat. Not without a fight. Worse still, he had no real, definitive explanation for the split. His assumptions about Evie’s emotional needs were guesswork. All he could hope was that by showing willing with his dad, her door to communication would open and the talking would begin.

  ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘I’ll take Dylan to see him tomorrow and we’ll come back for lunch.’ He rose from his chair, tapped his thigh to bring Ozzy to heel, and headed into the hall. As he unravelled the dog lead from the coat stand, he caught one of Tess’s much-loved black hats. It landed on the floor with a soft thump. He retrieved it, brushed it down and returned it to its peg.

  Evie hovered in the kitchen doorway, her hair tucked into the left side of her neck, loose wisps kissing the soft skin Griff’s lips knew so well. No longer permitted to go there, he refocused and set his attention on Ozzy, clipping the lead to the collar. From under his brow, he saw Evie fold her arms and rest against the wooden surround.

  ‘What about Tess? It’s not right to expect her to lie,’ he said.

  ‘I’ll speak with Tess. Explain we don’t want to worry Logan.’ Evie’s head bobbed very slightly up and down as if convincing herself it was the right thing to do. ‘It’s a necessary lie. She’ll understand.’

  Griff mirrored his wife. His nod was as imperceptible as hers. If he was right about her need for a deeper connection, their relationship could be fixed. She wasn’t the only one craving intimacy. As much as he enjoyed the drive-by-sex, he missed the quiet moments with her even more – the midnight raids on the fridge when they’d sneak downstairs for a snack; singing along to the radio as they washed the dishes; his arm wrapped around her as they walked along the beach – simple pleasures that were ailing under the demands of work, children and an aging parent. Assuming he and Evie were heading in the same direction, surely it was only a matter of time before they were back together, and what his dad didn’t know couldn’t hurt him. A necessary lie.

  He ruffled Ozzy’s ears. ‘I agree. It’s for the best. Until we work out what we’re doing.’

  Evie stood erect from the doorframe. ‘We’re not doing anything, Griff. I just can’t be with you.’

  Chapter Two

  Evie

  The words caught in Evie’s throat. She no more wanted to speak them than she knew Griff wanted to hear them. His pain was obvious. It destroyed the glimmer of hope she’d seen in the molten bronze of his eyes.

  She wanted to reach out, pull him to her breast and comfort him. She wanted to sing to him, whisper words of reassurance, and tell him everything would be okay. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t tell him anything. Wouldn’t tell him anything. The less he knew the better.

  With a forced swallow, a slow, protracted blink, and a moment to collect her thoughts, she reminded herself of the reason her marriage was now in jeopardy.

  Logan.

  He’d asked something so huge of her, she was struggling to know what to do, and she’d given her word she wouldn’t discuss it with Griff. She had no intention of going back on that. She didn’t want Griff to know herself.

  The last thing she wanted was to come between the two men in her life.

  ‘I think you should go,’ she said, sliding past her husband to access the living room. ‘I’ll make sure I’m out of your way when you bring Ozzy back.’

  The self-imposed serenity didn’t last long. With her legs no longer supporting her, she lurched towards the sofa and collapsed into its obliging cushions. Before she had a chance to draw breath, Griff was kneeling at her feet, concern stretched across his face, his defined laughter lines as miserable as the situation. His head was inches away. It would be so easy to tangle her fingers in his hair and direct his mouth to hers.

  ‘We can work this out,’ Griff said, bringing Evie’s fantasy to an end. ‘But you need to talk to me.’

  That was all Evie wanted – to be with the man she loved, in the bosom of her family. No complications, no secrets, no guilt. But Logan’s cry for help had changed all that. It had set Evie on a course impossible to navigate.

  She steeled herself. ‘I have nothing to say that you’d want to hear.’

  Griff edged away and slumped against the coffee table.

  ‘I don’t believe that,’ he said, after a moment’s thorny silence. ‘Like I don’t believe there’s another man. Why do you feel the need to lie?’

  ‘I’ve not lied,’ she said, keeping her thoughts chained to the back of her mind. ‘When you asked if it’s because of someone else, I gave an honest reply.’ If he’d asked if she was in love with someone else … Well … Thank goodness he’d kept his question simple.

  She looked on as Griff planted the heels of his hands onto the table, extended his legs, and pumped his body up into a seated position. His biceps strained against the white cotton of his shirt, and his chest expanded, forcing the buttons to the furthest extreme of the holes. She’d seen him exercise with that move at the gym.

  He brushed his fringe to the side. He’d let his hair grow longer than usual. Evie liked it – the gentle waves gave his face a boyish youthfulness she’d not been party to. Griff would turn forty soon. They’d met in their thirties, on Christmas Day. It was three years ago, at the harbour swim. She was dressed as an angel. He was virtually naked. He’d rushed to save her then.

  ‘You’ll lose your halo,’ he’d said as they stood ready to jump into the water.

  ‘I lost that a long time ago,’ she’d replied as he feathered his fingers along the edges of her wings.

  ‘It’s freezing in there. You don’t have to do this.’

  ‘I do. My daughter’s the other side of the harbour. She’s waited for what to her must be an eternity.’

  ‘She’ll understand.’

  Evie laughed. ‘She’s twelve, it’s ten o’clock on Christmas morning, and I’ve raised her from the dead, insisting she be here. Besides, I’ve promised my sponsorship money to the hospice. I volunteer there.’

  Griff inched back, appearing to assess Evie. ‘You’re swimming for the hospice?’ He paused as if debating whether or not to add more to his statement, then continued anyway. ‘So am I. They helped my mum a few years ago. It’s a fantastic cause. And it’s great that you work there. A true angel.’

  Evie felt the heat of embarrassment rise through her core to her face. ‘It’s nothing. I like to help. And I get back far more than I could ever give.’

  ‘Sounds like you’re definitely diving in, then.’ He shook his head and sighed. ‘There’s absolutely nothing I can do to save you from taking the plunge?’

  His cheeky grin and his confident pose made Evie laugh. ‘I was beyond saving the second I saw your Santa Speedos,’ she said.

  Griff’s voice dragged a reluctant Evie back into the present. ‘Where did you meet?’

  ‘It’s not important.’

  ‘Does he come here?’

  Her husband’s agitation was building. Evie knew the signs. His foot was sending a rhythmic thud through the carpet, his jaw was stern, and he’d developed a sheen to his forehead that he wiped with the back of his hand. Griff was a straight talker and he expected straight answers. And she loved that about him. She loved that he had no hidden agendas; that what she saw was what she got.

  Th
at’s how she knew the truth would finish him. And his relationship with Logan.

  ‘He’s been here, yes.’ She curled her legs onto the sofa, and locked her arms around her knees, a position she’d seen her daughter take on many occasions.

  ‘I still don’t believe you.’ Griff cuffed his forehead and inhaled noisily. ‘Has Tess met him? Dylan?’

  It seemed to Evie there was little point replying when her answers failed to satisfy. ‘You should take Ozzy for his walk,’ she said, hoping to bring an end to the interrogation.

  At the mention of his name, the dog barrelled into the room.

  ‘Later,’ said Griff, repairing to an armchair. He called Ozzy to him, and patted for him to lie at his feet. Once the dog was settled, Griff looked at Evie. ‘Have you slept with this mystery man?’ His eyes narrowed, and the grooves emphasising his mouth deepened.

  ‘Don’t do this.’

  ‘Don’t do what? Try and save our marriage? Save you?’

  ‘Not everyone wants saving,’ Evie said. That was the sad truth; a fact with which she had to come to terms.

  ‘Everyone’s worth saving.’

  Evie raised a hand. ‘You’re not listening to me. I said not everyone wants saving.’

  Especially not by their son.

  Chapter Three

  Tess

  I wish I was dead. No. That’s not right. Not dead, but not here. I wish the smelly, gum-chewing, dirty sod who worked his hand up my thigh, and all the smart-mouthed prats at the back of the bus poking fun at me, suffer some intolerable, skin-splitting disease. Especially the girl from my sports class at school. She’s got it in for me, constantly digging and winding me up. Thought I’d be free of her on a Saturday. I hope their heads explode, and bleed red into their hair, then I’d call them Ginger Pubes, or Copper Knob – payback for years of tugging at my clothes and calling me Ginger Minge.

  They’re banging on the window as the bus pulls away. I show them my middle finger, and mouth ‘swivel’.