head to one side, feeling a torrent of emotion and exhaustion hit her at the same time.
He shook his head. ‘No. I can’t. Sorry. I’ve had more than I should have. I’ll sleep here, with Taffie.’ He glanced at her. ‘If that’s OK?’
She wanted more than anything to reach out and touch his face, trace the tiny line of salt across the top of his eyebrow and tell him that not only was it OK, but that every bone in her body wanted to lean her head on his chest right now, breathe in his earthy smell, the one she’d clung to for all those teary nights on his T-shirt, to curl up in his lap and never let him go.
She nodded. ‘I’ll get you a sleeping bag and some blankets. Taffie could probably do with the company.’
69
Maddie crept into the lounge and tiptoed around the room. She took the wine glasses away and put a couple of cushions back on the sofa. She kept the curtains shut so she didn’t wake Greg. She was reminded of the time, all those months ago, when she was curled up with him by this very fire, listening to him breathe, feeling the warmth of his chest under her cheek. But not now. Now he was a guest in her house.
The fire had burnt out a long time ago. Ash and blackened logs littered the wide stone fireplace behind the grate. Greg was snoring gently on the floor on a blue camping mat, inside a sleeping bag, with Taffie curled up by his feet. It was as if Taffie couldn’t leave his side. Well, after the events of yesterday, she didn’t blame the poor dog. She stood, feeling the bare floorboards beneath her feet, and sighed. It wasn’t so long ago they’d been joking and laughing as they sanded and stained it together. It felt solid and real as she curled her toes and stretched them. She gazed at the two of them, looking content together, knowing she had to leave all this behind.
He’d insisted on Taffie sleeping right next to him. She let out the breath she’d been holding. It was just so normal having him here, as if he’d always been here, part of her life. But you’ve blown it, said a little voice. She crept quietly into the kitchen and started running warm water into the washing-up bowl then squirted some detergent into it; the fluffy foam rose higher. She stared at the beach outside the window, at the now-familiar view. The storm had gone but left its mark. Debris littered the beach: twigs, shells and seaweed lay strewn across the sand as if nature had thrown them all up in the sky, exasperated, and let them fall where they wanted to. The tide was out and the waves out to sea were a fraction of the size they were yesterday.
She studied a gull as it swooped down onto the ocean, fluttered in the sea, then rose higher. Was she happy here? She felt settled; she felt like she’d made it home. If she could do it here, she could do it anywhere, and she needed to get away from the painful memories. It looked like Greg’s job was permanent now at the water sports centre. Of course it was – he was a competent sailor and brilliant with kids.
But she’d faced her biggest fear – she had survived on her own and proved to herself she could do it. She had stood up after she’d been knocked down by Tim and built another world for herself – one that included her painting, being by the sea, waking up in the morning and looking forward to the day. She’d miss Ed desperately, but knew his wings needed to be stretched. He needed to fly, go to university and make his mark with Adity and find happiness himself. She just hoped that he would always want to come back to her.
It was as if she’d been in a chrysalis for a long time, buried beneath the stifling constraints of not only a secret, but also trying desperately to make things ‘all right’ for her and Ed. She’d barely noticed what had happened around her. She had been used, and she hadn’t been able to see it. Tim had been like a poison in her life. She’d thought all along he was her saviour; but no, for him, she was a safety net, a respectable front behind which he could not only