the landing, her brother, Sam, from the deepness of the tone, and sure enough he followed Libby into the room. ‘I’m not stopping,’ he said. ‘Just making a contribution to the cause.’ He held up his hands to show a chocolate fudge cake, then placed it on a free space on her dressing table. Bending at the waist, he brushed a quick kiss on Beth’s cheek and whispered something in her ear.
It had been weird for Eliza at first when Sam and Beth had started dating that spring. But seeing the way they gravitated towards each other every time they were in the same space, it was clear they were head over heels. Although Sam kept his bedroom at the pub, he spent almost all of his free time at Beth’s and Eliza doubted it would be too long before they were living together officially. Her heart twisted. As much as she adored them both and wanted nothing but their happiness, the easy way they had with each other served only to drive home how much Eliza had lost.
Returning with plates and glasses, Libby sent a mock-pout towards Sam as he straightened up from Beth’s side. ‘What about me?’ She puckered her lips at Sam, making kissing noises.
He blew her a kiss then ruffled her wild, spiky hair. ‘What are we calling this, seasick green?’
‘Mermaid, actually.’ She poked her tongue out at him. ‘Why are you still here?’
With a grin, he held his hands up in surrender as he backed towards the door. ‘I’m leaving, I’m leaving.’
The light-hearted interlude provided enough of a distraction for Eliza to calm her tears. She mopped her face dry whilst Libby removed three parcels wrapped in white paper from the carrier bag and placed each on a plate. She handed one to Eliza. ‘Small haddock and chips, and—’ she pulled a Styrofoam cup from the bag ‘—Mushy peas.’
She wasn’t the least bit hungry, but not wishing to offend her friend, Eliza tugged the paper open. Her mouth watered as the smell of hot chips and vinegar hit her nostrils, making her realise she hadn’t eaten anything beyond half a slice of toast that morning. Tipping the contents of the paper onto her plate, she dumped the pot of peas next to it and her stomach gave a rumble of approval. Libby offered her some cutlery, which she accepted with a grateful smile. ‘Thanks for this.’
Libby shrugged. ‘With the kind of staff discount I get, it’s no big deal.’ Given that Libby’s dad owned the local fish and chip shop just a few doors along the promenade from the pub, that was something of an understatement. Libby handed Eliza a glass of wine. ‘And I scored this from your mum on my way through the bar, so freebies all round.’ She clinked her glass against Eliza’s. ‘Cheers.’
Eliza returned the gesture, took a large mouthful then placed her glass on the bedside table. Silence settled over the three of them as they each began to eat. She knew they must be full of questions, but the fact they didn’t push her to talk proved once again how important the bond between them was. She should never have let Martin talk her into moving so far away.
The food in her mouth formed into a hard lump and she reached for her wine to wash it down. ‘What am I going to do?’
Beth set her knife and fork together. ‘About what?’
A bitter laugh escaped Eliza. ‘Everything. You know, I lie on this bed every night running over the last ten years of my life and I can’t tell you what Martin’s honest opinion is about anything. I used to credit the fact we never argued as a sign of a healthy relationship, but now I realise he just said whatever he thought I wanted to hear.’ She rubbed her aching eyes. ‘If he wanted to do something, he just went ahead with it and then would make out he’d done it for our benefit. If it was something I wanted, and it didn’t interfere with his plans then he just let me get on with it.’
Their house was a prime example. Martin had found it, even gone so far as to research the mortgage payments, access to local facilities, how much money they could save compared to renting because of the cheaper cost of living—everything to make the fact he’d already accepted a job hundreds of miles from their home town seem perfectly logical. When it came to the interior, he’d given her free rein, saying she was the one with the creative streak and could use it as a template to show off her skills. She’d been so excited at the prospect, she’d planned every room down to the smallest nick-nacks, all the while believing it was Martin’s gift to her, his way of making her as happy and as settled as possible in their new environment. In reality, he’d already got what he wanted when she’d agreed to the relocation so he didn’t care whether she painted the kitchen blue, cream or flamingo pink. He’d said as much when she’d asked for his opinion, taking the sheen off her happiness in the process.
And he’d done the same thing when it came to Abu Dhabi, making her believe he was only exploring the possibilities when in reality he’d made it as far as the final interview stage before mentioning it. When he did raise it, he’d bamboozled her with stacks of information, from how much money he would make over three years, to brochures about winter cruises around the Arabian Gulf, to estimates on the monthly rent they’d get by letting their home out.
Some might call the effort he’d gone to thoughtful, but Eliza had felt powerless under the onslaught. There were so very many good reasons for them to do it, the fact she simply hadn’t wanted to go felt selfish. Though not as selfish as walking out at the last moment. Her guilty conscience had a point. Martin had only gone ahead and done those things because she hadn’t stood up to him. Not quite sure what she wanted to do with her life beyond something creative, she’d chosen a university course which covered a broad spectrum of art and design hoping to settle upon a specialty eventually. She’d dabbled in everything from pottery to dress-making and loved it all.
Then Martin had been headhunted in their final year while she’d still been uncertain which direction to go in. After much soul-searching they’d agreed she would put her further studies on hold for a couple of years until Martin was settled in at work and she’d found herself a job working for the local council as an administrator.
She’d channelled her creative interests into their house and making her own clothes. After taking a few commissions from people she worked with who admired her style, she’d branched out into selling online via Etsy. Her little shop had ticked over thanks to word of mouth recommendations, but she’d never quite got to grips with marketing it properly. Somehow, two years had stretched into four, and still the timing hadn’t been quite right for her to go back to school.
And now here she was with a wasted degree, a raft of general office skills and no idea what to with herself. She threw herself back on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. ‘What am I doing with my life? What was the point in leaving Martin to end up back here pulling pints night after night?’
Beth took her hand and shook it gently to draw Eliza’s attention to her. ‘You don’t have to justify your decision to anyone in this room other than yourself. And, whatever you decide we will support you.’
‘But—’
‘Whatever.’ Beth cut off the protest from Libby with a glare past Eliza’s shoulder.
‘All right,’ Libby grumbled. ‘But I still think Martin is a wanker.’
A snort of laughter bubbled from Eliza as Beth simply shook her head. Libby had always been the most plain spoken of the three of them, and Eliza hoped that would never change. She didn’t want them to pretend around her, she needed their honesty, even if it hurt sometimes. She owed it to them to be honest too. ‘My marriage is over. It’s not about the move to Abu Dhabi, that was just the final straw. I haven’t been happy for a long time, and I’m as much to blame for that as Martin. I’m twenty-six years old and I’ve got absolutely nothing to show for my life. I can’t go backwards,
