Page 74 of Third Time’s a Charm

From now on, my loyalty will be reserved for those who deserve it. Who’ve earned it. And the first of those is Louise.

No matter how this turns out for me personally, I’ll do everything in my power to make sure she gets the result she wants. Whatever that may be.

All this cloak and dagger and plotting around salvaging Louise’s career hasn’t left me with much time to contemplate the rupture in our personal relationship. Which is no less heartbreaking. No. That’s not quite right. It’s far more heartbreaking.

Finding another job is one thing; finding another love like Louise, well, in my experience, they don’t come along all that frequently. Once in thirty years, to be precise. Despite my heartbreak, I smile at what Louise would undoubtedly think of that number.

It's extraordinary how important Louise has become to me in such a short time. Although, it could be said she’s always been there, waiting in the dark recesses of my heart for just the right conditions to bloom. To produce fruit full of possibility, just like the grape vines.

I wonder if even now she’s blaming this shitshow on this being the third time we’ve met. If she thinks our connection ending in heartbreak was inevitable.

Now, with the future of her career hanging in the balance, it’s probably not the right time to bring it up. One thing at a time. But as soon as I get all these threads pulled together, as soon as I’m confident things are heading in the right direction, you can bet I’ll be broaching the subject.

And if she can forgive me enough to help her get her wine programme off the ground, hopefully she’ll forgive me enough to give us another chance.

This time I won’t mess it up.

Because three is going to be my lucky number.

Chapter Forty

Louise

Ifeel like death warmed over. Not just physically, although there’s an oompah band in my head. But emotionally.

People sometimes say they wake up the morning after something brutal happens to a few blessed moments of forgetfulness before they remember. But I don’t. I remember immediately. In high-definition pain. I won’t ever forget the look of guilt and fear on Jasper’s face. The malicious glee on Tate’s. The triumph on John’s.

I have a vague memory of leaving The Oaks. Of being put to bed in Lil and Ant’s spare room. There’s a pair of Lil’s leggings and a T-shirt folded on the bench at the end of the bed. I struggle into them before making my way slowly to the bathroom, where a fresh toothbrush is sitting next to the sink. I have no idea what I’ve done in my life to deserve such amazing friends, but I’m so grateful.

I knock back three paracetamol—because this is the one time three might not be such bad luck—from the packet I find in the cabinet, wash my face and clean my teeth. I wish I could say it helps, but it’s going to take a lot more than a little water and some mint to fix what ails me.

Lil and Ant are sitting at the kitchen island sipping coffee and tapping away at their laptops in companionable silence when I stagger out, momentarily blinded by the unpleasantly cheerful sunlight pouring in the kitchen window. The weather could at least have the grace to be rainy, out of respect for my mood.

I look at the clock on the oven. It’s nearly eleven.

“What are you guys doing here? Shouldn’t you be at work?”

Lil leaps up and wraps me gently in her slender arms. “We weren’t going to leave you here by yourself after what you’ve been through, you dummy.”

Ant doesn’t ask but gets up and makes me coffee just the way I like it.

“Thank you,” I croak. The tears I held at bay through sheer bloody-mindedness yesterday are now rising, threatening to break the dam.

“Let it out, Lou,” Lil croons into my hair. And I do. Curled on a sofa, wrapped in a soft woollen throw rug and my best friend’s arms, I let it all out.

By the time I’ve cried myself dry and given myself an even thumpier headache than I already had, Ant has been out and returned with burgers, chips and a half dozen of the chocolate brownies his cafés are famous for. Oh, and a tub of cookie dough ice cream.

It only now occurs to me I haven’t looked at my phone since Lil took it from me yesterday.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” she asks as she unplugs it from the charger on the kitchen counter and holds it just out of my reach.

“No. But Colin has probably heard what’s happened. He’ll be worried.”

“I texted him yesterday afternoon to let him know you were okay.” She hands it over with a sheepish smile. As if I’d be annoyed. She’s an angel.

“Thank you.” I give her a one-arm hug. “I should still check.”

The six increasingly strident and panic-stricken voicemails he’s left confirm he was worried, until he heard from Lil.