Heart of Bone: A gripping novel of psychological suspense, page 12
‘Like I said, jealousy.’ Greer definitely had the upper hand here.
‘No. Nathan’s not a good person. It’s not his fault; his father was a misogynist and Nathan is following in his footsteps.’
Greer thrust her face close to Isla’s. ‘I don’t believe you. Two words: cellular memory. If you’ve not heard of it, read up on the subject. Nathan’s becoming more and more like Tom. I see echoes of my boy in him every time we meet. And you know what? It’s like getting my son back. So don’t you dare—’ She jabbed an angry finger against Isla’s chest. ‘Don’t you dare tell me to stay away from Nathan. That’s not going to happen.’
CHAPTER 40
Greer spent the evening after her lunch with Nathan in a stew of righteous indignation. That bitch Isla turning up—she’d face the rough side of Greer’s tongue if she pulled that stunt again. Greer had enjoyed more quality time with Nathan, though, so that was a plus. And he’d sent her that lovely message earlier. So good to see you. Really sorry about Mum’s behaviour. How about getting together sometime this week?
Greer had texted back immediately. Of course. When’s convenient?
TWO DAYS LATER, GREER squirted perfume on her wrists, humming to herself. She was due at Nathan’s in ten minutes; keen to look her best, she’d treated herself to a designer dress from an upmarket charity shop. A bargain at only a tenner, and the dodgy stain on the hem was barely noticeable. She put her coat on, then grabbed her coat and bag. What food might Nathan have ordered from the deli this time? Another of Tom’s favourites?
It turned out it was. Once they’d sat down to eat, a bowl of thick fish stew swirled steam into her face; Greer closed her eyes, savouring the delicious aroma. Nathan had clearly put in a lot of effort. Her place setting was immaculate: a cotton napkin held in a solid silver ring, the cutlery chunky and expensive looking. He’d already pointed out how much he’d spent on the wine he’d poured into her glass.
How perfect it all was. ‘This smells incredible.’
‘Bouillabaisse,’ Nathan replied. ‘First time I’ve tried it. These days, though, I’m craving seafood all the time.’
So reminiscent of Tom. Greer smiled. ‘Let’s not leave it to go cold.’ She dug a spoon into her food and raised it to her mouth, savouring the rich flavours. It didn’t take long to finish the bowl.
Nathan, however, left half of his. At one point, she could have sworn he pulled a face. ‘Is it too fishy for you?’
He shook his head. ‘Just not hungry, that’s all.’
A shaft of alarm shot through Greer. ‘You’re not feeling ill, are you?’
Nathan offered her a weary smile. ‘I’m fine. Really. It’s still early days, but my cardiologist says he’s pleased with the way things are going.’
‘You look exhausted, though. Are you sure you’re okay?’
Nathan rubbed the bridge of his nose. ‘I’m under pressure to get back to work full time, even though it’s too soon. Oh, my boss doesn’t want me in the office, just doing bits and pieces from home. It’s vital I keep him sweet. My hours got reduced once I got diagnosed. I was lucky to keep my job.’
‘Surely he can’t fire you for being off sick?’
‘Of course he can. He’ll just dress it up so an employment tribunal can’t touch him.’
‘That’s so unfair.’
‘It’s hard, because I’d rather be sketching. Let me show you.’ Nathan crossed to his desk and pulled open the top drawer. He returned with a piece of paper in his hand and placed it before Greer. On it was a drawing of a rose, lying across a stylised heart, its petals weeping blood. Greer’s eyes traced over the delicate lines, the intricate shading. It was perfect, beautiful. She could imagine Tom, in his home studio, sketching this.
‘You can keep that,’ Nathan said. ‘If you want.’ Greer most definitely did.
‘I’ll fetch our desserts. Back in a minute.’
Once he’d gone, Greer stood up to stretch her legs, walking over to the window near Nathan’s desk. As she did, she spotted another of his drawings in the drawer he’d left open. Why was it wrapped in cellophane, though? With a price sticker attached?
Greer picked it up. The drawing was identical in style to the others, but portrayed a winter landscape. This one, however, bore the initials SC.
Well, that was strange. Perhaps Nathan had copied SC’s artwork to help with his technique. He’d drawn those pictures, therefore felt justified in adding his initials. Yes, that must be it.
‘Tarte tatin,’ Nathan announced, setting two plates on the table. ‘French apple pie, in case you didn’t know.’
Dessert was pastry-and-fruit heaven, with whipped cream on top. Coffee rounded off their meal nicely. Once she’d drained her cup, Greer smiled at Nathan. ‘Can I listen to Tom? Please?’
‘Of course.’ He unbuttoned his shirt, and Greer walked around the table to lay her head against his chest. Her arms wound around Nathan to pull him closer. Why was he so rigid, so obviously uncomfortable? No matter; once he grew accustomed to this, he’d loosen up. It was only a matter of time.
The sound of her son’s heart was a drug to her, one to which she was rapidly becoming addicted. Lub, dub, one, two. Such a thrill.
‘Oh, Tom. I love you so much. You know that, don’t you?’
Dear God. Had she said that aloud?
If Nathan had been stiff before, he now froze solid. Greer disengaged herself, not daring to look at him. ‘I’m sorry. Slip of the tongue.’
Nathan cleared his throat. ‘It’s okay. Really. I don’t mind.’
She risked a glance at him. ‘You don’t?’ She couldn’t quite read his expression.
‘It’s fine. Honestly.’ He still seemed uncomfortable, however.
Nathan would get used to her loving him. Because she did, without a doubt. The realisation swept over Greer, pulling the breath from her lungs. A few short weeks ago, she’d been suicidal. Now hope gripped her heart. And it was thanks to this man.
Greer sat back at the table. ‘Shall I pour us more wine?’ Anything to cover the awkwardness. He nodded.
Nathan’s fingers trailed over the sketch. ‘I’d rather be drawing. But if I don’t work, I won’t get paid. I’ve already missed out on this year’s performance bonus. I’ll tell you, I’m pretty strapped financially. The mortgage on this place doesn’t come cheap.’
While Greer was pondering how to reply, Nathan continued, ‘Being so sick for ages didn’t help. That damn waiting list—I thought I’d die before I ever got a transplant. I splashed out on lots of stuff, thinking I might as well enjoy myself before I croaked. Ended up with massive debts.’
How he must have suffered. Greer wasn’t much of a spender, given her limited finances, but she understood Nathan’s situation. Hovering on the brink of death probably did that to a person.
‘I’ve asked Mum for help. Should have saved myself the trouble.’
Greer’s dislike of Isla Taylor rose higher. ‘She refused?’
Nathan snorted. ‘Yeah. Straight away, didn’t even draw breath. She’s more interested in hoarding her money than helping her only son.’ He grimaced. ‘Guess I’ll have to muddle through somehow.’
Greer didn’t respond, merely took another sip of wine. Isla was more cold and unloving than she’d realised. What kind of mother turned her back on her son that way?
Maybe this was a good thing. Isla might not be there for her boy when he needed her, but Greer was.
CHAPTER 41
The following Sunday, Greer was cooking a roast chicken for Nathan in her flat. As she checked the vegetables and prepared the gravy, she juggled figures in her head. First, she’d sell her Bristol house and buy somewhere much smaller in Birmingham. With property prices the way they were, she’d have a fair bit of equity left, enough to pay off Nathan’s debts. Any good mother would do the same for her son.
It would also piss Isla off. Well, the woman only had herself to blame. She’d had the chance to help Nathan, but chose not to.
The buzzer sounded. Greer threw her oven gloves on the table and rushed to open the door. Her world stopped dead, ceased to spin. Tom stood before her.
Nathan had cut his hair in a style that resembled the one her son had favoured. His striped shirt was almost identical to Tom’s in Greer’s favourite photo of him. He even smelled like Tom; was that a whiff of Hugo Boss she detected? Only the coarseness of his features, and his eyes being blue, not brown, belied the fact that Nathan wasn’t Tom. Stupefied, she stared at him.
‘Aren’t you going to ask me in?’ Nathan said.
Greer felt her face flush hot, as though he’d seen into her mind. She stepped back. ‘Of course.’
‘THIS IS FANTASTIC,’ Nathan said as they ate. ‘We should do this every weekend. Mum can’t cook the way you do.’
Quite the compliment, and one in the eye for Isla. ‘Thank you.’
This was what she’d wanted with Tom—the Sunday dinners together, the closeness. ‘How would you feel about me moving to Birmingham?’ The words tumbled out before she could rein them in.
Nathan’s eyebrows shot skyward. ‘Are you serious?’
Too much, too soon. Why did she never learn?
Nathan reached over to squeeze her hand. ‘I’d love that.’
‘You would? Really?’
‘Of course. You’re becoming more of a mother to me than my own’s ever been.’ He smiled. ‘We’ve only known each other a while, but I already feel closer to you than to her.’
Greer threw down her knife and fork and rushed round the table to hug Nathan. ‘Thank you. You don’t know what this means to me. I’ve wanted so long to be a proper mother to you, Tom, but you kept pushing me away.’ Her arms squeezed harder. Lost in her son, her hand edged towards his shirt buttons. She yearned to trace her fingers over that scar, listen to Tom’s heart.
Reality jolted through Greer like an express train. Her words rushed back to haunt her. I’ve wanted so long to be a proper mother to you, Tom...
Except that this wasn’t Tom. What must Nathan think of her? Her cheeks hot with shame, she returned to her seat. With a great effort, she glanced at Nathan. ‘I’m sorry.’
He didn’t look angry, thank goodness. Instead, a small smile played around his lips. ‘It’s okay,’ he said. ‘I don’t mind.’
‘You don’t? It’s just that—’
Nathan leaned across the table. She could smell the wine on his breath, the subtle scent of his aftershave. ‘I understand,’ he said. ‘It’s only been a short while since you lost your son, and you’re still grieving after the shock of Tom’s death. And now we’ve found each other, and it’s amazing, and I hope we have many more times together like this. If you call me Tom occasionally, what does it matter?’
Oh, how wonderful. This was what Greer had wanted, but even better. Nathan had become Tom, but a more loving version. Considerate, too. It had killed Greer to know that her son had embodied those qualities, just not where she was concerned.
‘I’ll try not to. But I can’t guarantee it won’t slip out occasionally. You resemble him, especially now you’ve cut your hair, and what with the cellular memory stuff—’ She stifled a sob. Through her tears, she managed a smile. ‘You’re becoming more like Tom than Tom ever was. I know that makes no sense, but it’s how it is.’
‘Does it help? With the grief, I mean?’
‘Yes. It’s as if he never left me.’
Nathan stood up, breaking the spell. ‘I’ll take these plates into the kitchen.’
‘I’ve put two portions of raspberry trifle on the side. Can you bring those in, please?’
Once he’d gone, Greer took a few slow, deep breaths. That had been intense.
Nathan appeared with a plate in each hand. He sat at the table and set about demolishing his dessert.
Greer toyed with her fork. ‘I have something to tell you.’
Nathan put down his fork and stared at Greer. ‘Go on.’
‘I wasn’t being quite honest earlier. I’ve already decided to sell up and move to Birmingham. That way, we can spend more time together.’ The last sentence whooshed from Greer in a rush of nerves. How would he react?
‘That’s a fantastic idea. I’m really pleased.’
So was Greer. And the best was yet to come. ‘That’ll release a fair amount of equity. If you’ll let me, I’ll pay off your debts, so you don’t have that worry. The stress can’t be good for you.’
Shock etched itself into Nathan’s expression. ‘That’s incredibly generous. I can’t allow you to do that, though. You hardly know me, and—’
‘I know you well enough.’ His resistance only made Greer more determined. ‘You’ve already said I’m more of a mum than your own mother. Well, that cuts both ways. You’re more loving than Tom ever was, and I don’t give a damn how long we’ve known each other.’
Nathan sucked in a breath. ‘We’re talking a lot of money.’
‘The amount’s not important.’
‘No, really. I added everything up this morning, and my debts are worse than I’d realised.’ He named a figure, and shock ratcheted through Greer.
What did it matter, though, if Nathan’s stress levels reduced? How wonderful that she could put the equity in her house to good use.
‘I’m sorry.’ Nathan said. ‘You obviously didn’t expect it to be that much.’
‘It’s not an issue. Consider it sorted.’
‘I can’t thank you enough. You’re an incredible woman, Greer.’ He cleared his throat. ‘I don’t suppose you could spare me a couple of thousand now? It would keep my creditors at bay for a while. I’ll pay you back as soon as possible.’
Greer swallowed her dismay. She could ill afford to dip into her savings, but any loan would only be temporary, right? He’d promised to reimburse the money, after all.
‘Of course. If you give me your bank details, I’ll transfer the money today.’
Later, once Nathan left, Greer poured herself a glass of wine and got comfortable on the sofa. She switched on her laptop. Time to help Nathan with his financial problems.
Life was looking better at last. She’d never forget the horror of Rose’s disappearance or Tom’s death, but a wonderful future with Nathan beckoned instead. She’d not asked to listen to Tom’s heart again, because what was the point? Nathan was becoming Tom to her, and yes, it helped soothe the grief. More than she could put into words.
That night, for the first time in ages, she didn’t sleep with Tom’s sweatshirt clasped in her arms.
CHAPTER 42
The following weekend, Greer was at Nathan’s place, waiting for Charlie to arrive. A couple of days ago, he’d sent her a message, asking when would be a good time to meet Nathan. Good job he had; she’d been so bound up with the whole cellular memory thing that she’d forgotten she’d suggested the three of them meet up. Now they were all about to have dinner at Nathan’s Birmingham flat. To her relief, Nathan had readily agreed when she’d mooted the idea.
‘I want you to meet Charlie. He was Tom’s best friend, and misses my boy almost as much as I do. If I’m going to move to Birmingham, and Charlie stays in touch, as I hope he will, you’ll meet him eventually, anyway.’
Nathan had squeezed her hand. ‘Let’s set something up. Why don’t you cook for us here?’
Ah, there was the buzzer. Greer pulled open the door to welcome Charlie. He looked like he’d lost weight. His football shirt hung loosely on his frame, and his face was gaunt. She walked towards the living room, Charlie trailing in her footsteps.
Nathan got up from the sofa when he spotted Charlie. ‘Good to meet you. You’re a friend of Tom’s from Bristol, right?’
Charlie nodded as he shook Nathan’s hand. ‘His best mate, actually.’
‘Sit yourselves down.’ Greer ushered both men towards the table. ‘I’ve cooked salmon with roasted vegetables and new potatoes. Nathan, can you pour the wine?’ She handed him the bottle of supermarket-brand Cabernet Sauvignon Charlie had brought. Did she imagine it, or did Nathan’s lip curl?
The conversation over dinner didn’t go as well as Greer had hoped. Charlie seemed on edge, more concerned about how full his wineglass was. Should she talk to him about his drinking? Best not to. Hadn’t Tom and Rose resented what they deemed her interference?
‘I was telling Greer earlier how I bought a new brand of aftershave, then found out it was Tom’s favourite,’ Nathan was saying, as he pushed away his dessert plate.
Greer stacked it on top of hers, ready to clear away. ‘Coffee, anyone?’
Charlie shook his head. His gaze seemed fixed on Nathan’s desk across the room. Greer couldn’t work out what might be so fascinating about the files on it or the digital photo display, currently displaying Nathan with his arm around someone, a wide smile on his face. Before Greer could shift her focus to the other person, the display had moved on.
While she was in the kitchen, a low rumble of voices, often heated, caught her ear, before the sounds stopped. She returned with coffee for Nathan and herself, only to encounter silence. Neither man was looking at the other. Charlie caught Greer’s eyes, then glanced away.
Well, she’d better get the conversation flowing again. What had they been discussing before she left? Ah, yes, Nathan’s new aftershave, which had been Tom’s favourite.
‘Cellular memory’s fascinating, don’t you agree, Charlie?’ They’d discussed the topic when she’d phoned him earlier that week. Charlie had claimed he’d never heard of it. He hadn’t sounded convinced by the idea.
‘Very much so.’ Charlie’s response seemed forced, as did his smile.
‘I think it’s mind-boggling,’ Nathan said. ‘There’s definitely something in it, as I’m finding out.’
Charlie stood up. ‘I’m tired. Could do with an early night.’
Nathan also got to his feet. ‘Yeah, me too.’
