The Vow - Debbie Howells Page 0,23

persuade me in the end.’ Hunched over the table, I shrug. ‘At least, I thought he had. There was another row about it, not that long ago, but that time, he didn’t push it. Now, I don’t know what to think.’ As I speak, I’m twisting my engagement ring around my finger, wondering if he’ll want it back. ‘This was Matt’s grandmother’s.’ My voice is toneless as I move my hand to show her. After the most romantic dinner, in the most old-fashioned of gestures, Matt had ordered champagne before going down on one knee and giving me the ring. It had been quite early on in our relationship and I’d been ridiculously flattered at being the recipient of a family heirloom. More so, when the ring fitted perfectly. Now, sliding it off my finger, I place it in the middle of the table, then look at her. ‘Have you ever been married?’

‘No.’ Sonia pauses. ‘There was someone. Let’s just say he wasn’t who I thought he was.’

‘My best friend’s ex-boyfriend wasn’t who she thought he was either.’ I’m thinking of Cath. ‘He seemed so charming, but it wasn’t long before he wanted control over every aspect of her life. She couldn’t see it, but everyone else could.’

‘It’s often the way, isn’t it?’ As she looks at me, Sonia sighs. ‘It may not seem like it right now, but for all the people like your friend’s ex-partner, and maybe Matt, too, there really are an equal number of good people in the world.’

Shaking my head, I stare at my hands. ‘Nothing makes any sense. I was so sure about Matt. I can’t believe I didn’t see this coming.’

‘No. He obviously knew exactly how to fool you.’ Sonia’s voice is quiet. Then as she goes on, she tries to sound more positive. ‘Hopefully the police will find him. And when they do, you’ll get the answers you need and he can take his possessions and get out of your life for good. Then, you’ll need time to let the dust settle. Going forward, it isn’t going to be the life you imagined. But think about it this way. If your wedding had gone ahead, it would have been far more painful if you’d found out further down the line what he’s capable of.’ Then she sees the flowers on the table. ‘Are those from your garden?’

I nod, looking at the vase of parrot tulips, their soft petals shades of pale green tinged with terracotta, their stems uneven lengths, their heads snaking in different directions. Then my gaze drifts back towards the window. ‘I’ve been growing our wedding flowers. They’re still out there. White narcissi and hyacinths.’ I’d planned to mix them with rosemary, eucalyptus, silver pine. Thinking of the day that’s never going to happen, my eyes fill with more tears, while as if in a trance, I get up and go over to the doors, sliding them open and stepping outside.

‘Amy, you’re not wearing anything on your feet.’

Sonia’s voice goes over my head as I start walking, anger rising in me, at Matt, at this other woman, whoever she is. Oblivious to the damp soaking through my socks, to the fog that envelops me, soaking into my clothes, clinging to my hair, her cries float past me as my emotions reach tipping point. Reaching the polytunnel, I go to the flower pots where stems of narcissi are in bud, one by one ripping them out, emptying the pots onto the floor, before starting on the hyacinths. Slowly at first, my anger builds as I move faster, more brutally, my hands cold, covered in damp earth as I hurl the broken stems onto the ground around me, followed by the flower pots, hearing them shatter; ignoring Sonia until I feel her hand on my arm. ‘Amy, you should stop … You’ll regret this.’

But I wrench my arm away, keeping going until every last flower has been torn up. Turning around, I glance at the mess of snapped stems and broken terracotta; at my socks covered in soil, then I look at Sonia. ‘This is how it feels,’ I whisper fiercely, as at last my anger starts to abate. ‘Like this.’ I gesture towards the dead flowers. ‘This is what Matt has done to me.’

Chapter Eight

Eventually, after picking up the smashed flower pots, I collect up the rest and leave it to rot on the compost heap. But I leave the broken flowers where they are until the following morning. As I