Trying Not To Love You

Part Eighty Eight

Chapter Eighty Eight

                “How did it go?”

Sonny had opened the front door to their flat and leaned back against the door as it closed behind him. Glancing up at the voice he saw Jade sat in just her underwear cross legged on the sofa painting her toe nails. Then he glanced around the room and grimaced, this place was a hole. It was more than they could afford with NO income, thankfully Michael had loaned him some money and he had enough to live on for a while. But with no job it wouldn’t last long. But there was no real excuse for the piles of crap snd dirty dishes that seemed to decorate every surface. He didn’t expect her to skivvy around the place. But so far she hadn’t as much as made a cup of tea. She seemed completely incapable. As was so often, so frequent, a lance of pain hit him in the chest as he subconsciously made the contrast between the woman he was sharing this hell hole with, and the complete opposite that he’d walked away from. The good, almost saintly compared to this...would he ever get over this? Ever accept that this was his comeuppance for not caring, for being so selfish?

                “Well?” Her repeated question pulled him back from the painful tangent his mind so habitually took.

He sighed, “they’ll call me, this evening.”

                “Did it go well?”

He shrugged, moving to the kitchen and opening the cupboard, vodka...that was what he needed. Pouring a decent measure, he gulped at it, then groaned at the warmth that caressed his throat. Each time he met his father he was unable to cope with the myriad of emotions that seemed to add to the pain of being without Martha. Alcohol was becoming his only friend, his only way to cope with existing.

                “Went ok.” He managed after a long drink. “We’ll have to see. Got a few things lined up for tomorrow.”

Uncurling from her seated position she stalked across the room like some sort of exotic cat and placed her arms around his neck, “you’ll get lucky soon.”

As she leaned in to kiss him, he was already diverting his head in recoil and taking her hands pushing her away, “don’t.” He stepped away from her and refilled his glass ignoring her pouting face. “Not sure that my luck will change. I thought London was the best place to come; now I’m not so sure.”

Stepping towards him she sighed, “we should never have left, the pub was working out.”

He shook his head, “there was no way on earth we were staying there. I told you that.” He gave her a warning glance, then got free of her invading his space, crossing the room, “now put some clothes on for fuck’s sake, you are about to be a mother.”

                “So I can’t be sexy?”

He didn’t answer that, instead he stripped out of his suit jacket and headed for the shower.

Henry Carmichael was a gentle and very genial man. From the moment she’d knocked his door, unannounced, he’d been charming. Martha had sat at his dining table whilst he made a pot of tea, and then when he was finally seated opposite her she’d explained who she was.

As soon as she mentioned Lucy’s name, Henry paled,

                “Lucy?” He shook his head, “oh, my God. How is she? What is she doing?”

He was a good looking man even for someone approaching seventy eight; she could see the remnants of the chiselled features and those deep blue eyes to understand why Lucy had given her heart to him. He had a wistful look in his eyes, as he spoke about her.