She opened the door without a greeting, her expression stony. On the doorstep stood Johnny, in jeans and a baggy Arran sweater. Without even breathing in she knew how he would smell: always of horses, because his car smelt of horses and he carried it with him wherever he went, and the oil of the waxed coat he wore when he was working, and underlying that a faint hint of the Kent cigarettes he smoked, mixed in with the scent of sandalwood from his aftershave.
‘Where is he?’
‘Who?’
‘My son.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘Come on, Honor. Your friend told me all about him.’
Bloody Charles, thought Honor venomously.
‘Six years old? Skinny with red hair?’ went on Johnny. ‘I don’t have to be a mathematician or a forensic scientist to work it out.’
You’re not the only redhead on the planet.’
‘I’m the only redhead you were fucking seven years ago.
‘How can you be so sure?’ demanded Honor. ‘I wasn’t the only person
you
were fucking, as you so eloquently put it. So what gives you the monopoly?’
‘Because I know you, Honor.’
Honor folded her arms and leaned against the door-jamb.
‘There’s nobody here but me.’
‘Don’t you think we should talk?’
‘I’ve got absolutely nothing to say to you.’
She glared at him, noticing how his jaw was clenched, the milky skin stretched over his cheekbones, the sprinkling of freckles standing out in stark relief. Seven years had awarded him a few more lines around his eyes, but he was still the picture of cherubic innocence, the spidery dark lashes fringing those hypnotic eyes. She’d always been in awe of his beauty, amazed that such feminine features could belong to someone so overtly male. For no one could ever be in any doubt about Johnny’s sexuality. He only had to glance at a woman and she melted. Though she wasn’t going to. Not this time. She was immune to his charms.
He was squaring up to her, thrusting his hands into the pockets of his jeans and throwing back his shoulders.
‘I think you owe me some sort of explanation.’
‘I don’t owe you anything’
‘I’m not going until you do. I’ll stand here all week if I have to.’
Mr Potter walked past on his way for the Sunday papers. He looked sideways at them curiously. Honor gave him a tight smile to assure him she was all right, aware that it was obvious from their body language that they were arguing. She hated the thought that she was rousing curiosity; couldn’t bear to think that Mr Potter would go into the shop and start gossiping about her private life. She was going to have to let Johnny in if only to avoid further speculation.
She stepped aside with a sigh.
‘You’d better come in.’
*
Johnny followed her wordlessly inside the cottage into the kitchen. She headed straight for the kettle. He took off his coat and sat down at the little breakfast bar, his eyes raking the room for further evidence of Ted. There was plenty enough. Paintings stuck to the wall – a robot made of pasta shapes sprayed silver, his name in Egyptian hieroglyphics. A selection of his shoes by the front door. His duffel coat on the newel post at the bottom of the stairs. On the breakfast bar was the see-through folder that contained his reading book and the spellings he had to learn for the week ahead. Honor cast a sidelong look at Johnny and saw him staring at the spellings intently. She could only imagine what he was thinking. That these simple four and five-letter words –
shop, ship, shape, shine
– were being learned by the son he never knew he had. Honor chastised herself sharply for feeling a momentary pang of guilt. Johnny had given up all rights to Ted the moment he’d slid between the sheets with Chloe. She was going to stand her ground.
She made a pot of tea, darting round the kitchen in agitation, not wanting to stay still long enough for Johnny to scrutinize her and assess what damage the intervening years had done to her looks. Though why should she care what he thought of her, she thought savagely.
He was sitting on the stool Ted used for doing his homework, watching her quietly.
She plonked a cup of tea in front of him ungraciously.
‘There’s sugar in the tin.’
‘Thank you.’ He smiled at her. ‘I don’t suppose you’ve a spoon?’
She wrenched open a drawer and tossed a teaspoon at
him, then turned her back on him and picked up her own mug. Her hands were shaking slightly, but the warmth of the liquid reassured her. There was silence for a moment as he took the lid off the sugar tin and helped himself, then stirred vigorously. When he spoke, his voice was calm.
‘So what have you told him? About his father? What am I? Dead? Some sort of legend you’ve created who died a heroic death?’
Honor opened her mouth to argue, but he cut in smoothly.
‘Don’t bother trying to deny he’s mine. It’ll be a waste of your time and mine. Let’s cut to the chase, shall we?’
Honor put her cup down on the counter. She realized Johnny was right. There was no point in blustering; pretending Ted wasn’t his. She’d been well and truly cornered. Now it was up to her to extricate herself from the situation as best she could.
‘I told him that God decided to give me a little boy but forgot to give me a daddy to go with him.’
‘That’s sick!’ Johnny looked genuinely appalled. ‘He’s going to work out that’s total bollocks, as soon as he learns about the birds and the bees.’
‘Then I’ll explain a bit more about it. But not now. He’s too little.’
‘So what does he think he is? Some sort of immaculate conception?’
‘He’s six years old, Johnny. He’s actually quite happy to accept that it’s just him and me.’
‘That’s totally irresponsible. You’ve fobbed him off and it’s only going to create problems when he wants to know the truth.’
‘What should I have told him then? That his father was a feckless, no-good shagmeister?’ Honor found herself spitting out the words that she’d been wanting to level at him for years. The bitterness hadn’t faded. Now she had him in front of her, the anger was as strong as it had been the moment she had caught him in flagrante. ‘How is the lovely Chloe?’
‘Jaysus, Honor. I’ve no idea. She was a mistake –’
‘No.
You
were a mistake.’
‘We’re not all paragons of virtue.’
‘It’s not that hard to remain faithful to someone you profess to love.’
‘I admit I was a total arsehole, OK? But at least I would have had the guts to face what I’d done. Not run away’
Honor drew in a sharp breath.
‘You’re not calling me a coward, surely?’
‘You never gave me a chance to explain!’
‘Johnny – no explanation in the world would have made any difference. You were in bed with a nineteen-year-old girl! How can you make that look anything other than despicable?’
‘Do you really want to know?’
He looked at her defiantly. Despite herself, she was intrigued. What explanation would he come up with to absolve himself?
‘You can say whatever you like. It won’t make any difference.’
Johnny ran his hand through his hair, making it stick up endearingly. Harden your heart, thought Honor, here comes the whitewash.
‘Chloe had me over a barrel, OK? I made the mistake
of sleeping with her when I first moved into the barn – way before I even met you. I had a house-warming party and she came along; everyone had too much to drink and it all got a bit out of hand. I made it clear the next day there was nothing between us, that it was just a fling, but she wouldn’t get the message. She was obsessed with me. She’d come into the barn when I got home every evening. Twice I found her naked in my bed. I couldn’t get it through to her that I wasn’t interested. In the end she got heavy. She said if I didn’t sleep with her she’d tell her father I’d raped her. He’s a barrister, Honor. I wouldn’t have had a hope…’
‘Well, maybe you should have thought about that before you took advantage of her in the first place.’
‘Advantage?’ Johnny gave a yelp of indignation. ‘Have you seen a nineteen-year-old girl with one thing on her mind? I didn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell!’
‘There’s only one little word you needed. But you’ve never been good with no, have you?’
‘I was trying to protect myself, Honor. Sleeping with Chloe didn’t mean anything.’
‘So how long were you going to carry on?’
‘That’s the irony! I’d told her this was the last time. Because…’ Johnny trailed off.
‘Because what?’
‘Because I was going to ask you to marry me.’
‘Yeah, right.’ Honor’s tone was withering. ‘I almost believed you up until then.’
‘It’s true!’
Johnny looked like an indignant little boy defending himself to the headmaster. Honor tried to hide a smile.
‘What’s so funny?’ he demanded.
‘It would be funny. If it wasn’t so pathetic,’ she said wearily. ‘I’m not really interested in your elaborate explanations. After all, you’ve had long enough to think up a convincing lie –’
‘You’re so bloody sanctimonious, you know that?’
Honor looked taken aback. Johnny’s voice was level, but she could see his fists were clenched.
‘You can only think about yourself in any of this, can’t you? Didn’t I have a right to know you were carrying my child? A son who’s been walking this earth for the past six years?’
‘The second you jumped into bed with her, whether it was for the first or last time, you lost any
rights
.’ She imbued the last word with heavy sarcasm.
‘I want to see him.’
‘Tough.’
‘I’ve got legal rights. As his biological father.’
‘Have you?’ Honor raised an eyebrow.
‘Of course I have.’
‘I’m sure you haven’t a clue whether you have or not. Because you’ve never given any sort of responsibility a moment’s thought. There’s only ever been one person in your life and that’s Johnny Flynn –’
Honor realized she was shrieking like a banshee. Horrified by her lack of dignity, she stopped in mid flow, furious that Johnny had been able to reduce her to this in mere moments.
‘You really don’t think much of me at all, do you?’ Johnny looked very pale, very serious, very young. Honor wondered how long he could realistically go on looking
like a boy. Could you still be boyish at forty? Fifty? ‘I’m going to do whatever it takes to see my son. Make up for what he’s missed over the past six years.’
Honor tipped up her chin.
‘He hasn’t missed out on anything, I promise you that.’
‘Only his father.’ Johnny’s voice was hard. ‘Look, we can do this the easy way, Honor. Or the hard way. I can do the lawyer thing. Though I don’t think that would be fair on Ted. Surely it would be best for him if we kept it civilized?’
‘I don’t know why you think you can just walk in here and start dictating terms.’
‘Because despite what you think, you’re the one in the wrong here. You’ve deprived me of my son, and my son of his right to have a father. And despite your low opinion of me, I would go to the ends of the earth to make him happy. And you, for that matter.’
‘Really?’
‘Jaysus, Honor, when you left… There’s never been anyone to match you before or since. My only regret is that I didn’t realize it at the time. I was a self-indulgent tosser who was finding it hard to break the habits of a lifetime. And I can assure you I’ve suffered for it since.’
Honor snatched their empty tea mugs off the breakfast bar and marched over to the sink. Her chin was wobbling uncontrollably. Shit – she was going to cry. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d cried about anything. This was the worst thing she could do – show Johnny that he was getting to her. But her emotions betrayed her. Hot tears sprang from her eyes, and she could do nothing to stop them.
‘Just fuck off and leave me alone,’ she croaked. ‘Leave us alone…’
As the tears started to course down her cheeks she turned the taps on full to drown out the noise. What the hell was she crying for? For a hundred reasons, but mostly because Johnny had stood in front of her and verbalized all the guilt and fear she had suppressed over the past years. Had she been wicked to deprive Ted of a father? Was she evil to lie to him about his paternity? And how long would she get away with fairy-tale explanations that defied all logic?
‘Hey, hey…’
He was rubbing her back gently There he was, with his bloody healing hands, turning her to putty. She could feel the warmth spreading through her bones. An alarm bell rang in her head as she turned off the tap.
‘Get off.’ She nudged him away with her elbow, wiping her runny nose with the back of her hand. Johnny smiled.
‘That’s not very attractive.’ He fished in his pocket for a handkerchief and handed it to her. Reluctantly, she wiped her nose, sniffing inelegantly, realizing with fury that his close presence was making her feel quite peculiar. She should have felt revulsion, but it was far from it.
‘What you need is some breakfast.’ He gave her a final pat on the back and moved away. Immediately she craved his touch again. ‘You’ve had a shock. And I don’t suppose you slept last night because I certainly didn’t.’
He went over to the fridge and opened it.
‘What have you got?’
‘Nothing. I was supposed to stay over at a friend’s.’
‘I’ll go to the shop. We’ll have eggy bread.’ He grinned at her. ‘You know that’s the only thing I can cook better than you.’
It was true. Johnny had a way with eggy bread she’d never been able to master. The right amount of sogginess and crispiness. When she made it, it was always rubbery.
He picked up his coat.
‘Go and have a nice hot bath. I’ll be back in five minutes. Eggy bread, proper coffee and the Sunday papers.’
It sounded like bliss. She and Ted usually only had toast, because she took him swimming on a Sunday morning and if he ate too much it gave him cramp…
What was she thinking of? Johnny had only been here ten minutes and already she was capitulating. But he was being so lovely.
Don’t be nice!
She wanted to scream. She could cope as long as he was the enemy. But she was tired and emotionally drained and frightened, which made her vulnerable. And it was too, too tempting to succumb to his charms.