Page 61 of An Unholy Affair
His expression suddenly froze, as if he’d just been caught with his hand in the biscuit tin. He inclined his head at the box of photos. ‘Any good?’
‘Yes, lovely. But they’re mainly of your father with one of his friends. There aren’t any with Patricia, or you and Emily. Could you possibly bring some from home?’
Jack paused. ‘I’ll ask Mum. But—’ He cleared his throat. ‘I don’t want any of me from when we were kids, and I expect Emily feels the same.’
Eveline remembered what his sister had referred to as the ‘ugly-mug wall’. The school photos where the two of them were overweight and spotty, with forced smiles that didn’t disguise the unhappiness behind them.
‘We can make the board with only photos of your father? It’s your choice.’
‘Thanks. I don’t want to remember my childhood any more than I have to. Those photos can stay with Mum, and when she’s gone, they’ll go to landfill.’
‘Adolescence can be a really hard time.’
He nodded. ‘My life started properly when I finished school.’
She put her sandwich down. ‘What happened?’
‘I failed my A-levels, so I had to defer my place at uni.’ He rubbed his hand over his forehead. ‘It’s such a load of bullsh—crap, this idea that university should be for everyone. I barely got enough GCSEs to go onto A-levels anyway, and had no interest in doing STEM subjects like Dad wanted me to. So, at the end of the summer when the results came out, I packed a bag and fucke—went off to Australia.’
‘Jack, it’s okay for you to swear. I really don’t mind.’
‘Imind. I’m trying to be a better person around you.’
‘You don’t need to. Really. You’re perfect just the way you are.’
He huffed out a harsh laugh. ‘No, I’m really not.’
‘Jack—’
‘Anyway,Australia,’ he said, pinning her with a look which said the subject of how imperfect he thought he was, was now closed for debate. ‘I started working on a farm, and four months later had lost my excess fat and gained muscle and a tan. When I moved to a different ranch, nobody there knew I’d looked any different. On my first night, a Canadian girl called Daisy dragged me back to her room and, er…’—he glanced down—‘…jumped me.’
Eveline’s mouth ran dry as she imagined doing exactly the same.
‘That must have been…’
His gaze was still glued to the table, but a smile played on his lips. ‘It was like being reborn.’
A sensuous silence stretched between them as Jack seemed lost in his memories and Eveline fell into her fantasies.
He cleared his throat and raised his head, his expression neutral. ‘That year I shed the skin of my childhood and started exploring who I actually wanted to be as an adult.’
‘A party planner?’
A brief look of shock crossed his face, and the colour heightened in his cheeks. ‘Er… That came later.’ He took a gulp of tea. ‘Did you have a “road-to-Damascus” moment, or did you always want to be a vicar?’
Eveline stared into her mug.God, should I tell him everything? Is this how I help him? And anyway, if we are meant to be together, we shouldn’t have secrets from each other. Should we?
‘You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.’
She glanced up. ‘Oh, sorry, it’s fine. I don’t mind telling you. I was… I was just talking to God.’
His eyes widened a fraction. ‘Do you do that a lot?’
‘All the time. I’m either chatting or praying to him.’
‘And does he ever talk back?’
‘Not in the traditional sense.’ She smiled. ‘I usually feel his response. Or something happens when I pray.’Like you turning up at a bar in London.
