Page 101 of Take My Breath Away
The two guys carry the tree down the side of the house and set it up against the wall in the garden, taking a photo to show it’s been delivered, before they rush off. It’s a dull, gloomy day, and heavy, freezing rain, edged with ice, starts to fall, but all I can do is stare at the tree.
I don’t want it. I don’t want the fucking thing in the house. There must be some local charity who’d welcome the festive donation. A thunder clap and a blinding flash of lightning send me scurrying indoors.
Soaked to the skin, I head up to get changed. In the en-suite I breathe in deep and imagine I can smell the lingering aroma of Perry’s vanilla scented shampoo, but there’s nothing other than my own, citrus and sharp.
Dried off for the second time, I wander back downstairs. The kitchen feels like a wasteland. No delicious, savoury aroma from something bubbling away on the hob. No buttery sweetness from a just-baked cake, or a batch of biscuits cooling on the rack. There’s nothing. It’s as empty, cold and lifeless as it was before Perry arrived and turned my house into a home.
I make more coffee because it’s something to do, and think about maybe eating something, anything. About to dig through the fridge, I spot the blue and white spotted cake tin. Perry brought it home one evening, something he’d seen in one of those retro shops close to the office … He’s forgotten it, and for a wild moment I wonder if I should return it to him… take it around to Alfie’s, if I knew where he lived… bump into him at Elliot’s… call him, arrange to meet him for a drink to hand it over…
“What the fuck,” I mutter, as I rub my hands over my face. There’s no way on God’s earth Perry would want to see or hear from me ever again, and to think anything else is nothing more than a delusion caused by too much brandy and self-pity.
Maybe I should get rid of it, knowing full well I could never do that. Instead I prise it open, and am enveloped with sugar sweetness as I peek inside, blinking hard to clear my fogged vision. The scant remains of a cake, not just any cake but a Victoria sandwich. Sponge, jam, buttercream, that’s all it is, but it was — is — my favourite.
I tip it out onto a plate. It’s stale, and seen better days. But none of that matters. I slice it up and work my way through it, tasting not the dryness of the sponge or the sour turn of the buttercream, but the delicious sweetness of a time when I was truly happy.
Chapter Forty-Six
JAMES
I jerk upright so fast I almost topple my chair backwards. My heart’s racing as snippets from confused and disturbing dreams run from me. I grab my mobile, in front of me on the kitchen table, almost sending the cake tin crashing to the floor.
“Good, I was hoping you’d pick up,” Elliot says.
My attempt to answer is nothing more than a strangled, dry-mouthed groan.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes.” I clear my throat and swallow down the lie.
“You don’t sound it, which is hardly surprising I suppose.” Elliot huffs. “No, not now…” The words are muffled and I’m about to ask what all this is about when I realise it’s not me he’s speaking to. The thud of a door closing comes down the line. “That’s better. No interruptions. I’ve got news, which I think you need to know about. And deal with.”
I scrunch my brows. “What do you mean, deal with?” Tension turns my muscles to iron.
“Perry tendered his resignation earlier today. He’s leaving. He’s given me longer than he actually needs to, but he’s still leaving. There’s a suitable property near Brighton—”
“The bungalow? That fucking horrible bungalow?” The words explode from me. Perry, in a grim, nondescript suburb… All his brightness will fade away to nothing.
“I don’t know if it’s a bungalow, but he said he was interested in the property before and it’s come back on the market. He’s made a provisional offer, which has been accepted. Vacant possession apparently, so he can move fast on it.”
I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose in a futile attempt to stem the headache that’s blossoming.
Perry, in that place…
“Then he’s got what he wanted,” I croak.
“Oh, for God’s sake.” Elliot’s voice is an angry bark on the other end of the line. “It’s not what he wants. It’s not what he wants at all.”
“It is. He wants to set up his own business.”Miles and miles away from me.
“But not like this, James. You’ve got to do something about this.”
“And get in his way again? I got in his way before and screwed up his plans because it suited me. Moving away, it’s what he always wanted. He should do it, and not let men like me stand in his way.”
I pinch harder between my eyes, my nails digging deep into the thin skin.
Silence, for long, long seconds. I almost think Elliot’s cut the call. When he speaks his voice is low and lethal, his anger held back by strength of will alone. Ice shivers down my spine and over my skin.
“You’re a fool, James. Why are you putting yourself and him through this? When the two of you were together there was a brightness about you I’d never seen before. Not even when you were with Alex. It was because you were happy, probably for the first time in your life. But I saw it in Perry, too. Why are you so afraid of owning up to what you feel for him? Why can’t you admit it?”
