Finding Grace(70)

She stared into Stefan’s face. He’d put on weight. He wasn’t fat, but there was now a soft padding on what used to be taut, defined muscles and sharp features.

He looked back at her. The intensity had gone from his eyes; she could find no trace of the old pent-up aggression.

Still, she was unable to speak.

‘Couldn’t believe my luck when I saw your photo in the paper… you’re the wedding planner here,’ he said by way of explanation. ‘I’m working locally, just for a few weeks, and I… I felt compelled to seek you out, Lucinda. To say that I am truly, truly sorry for what happened.’

She nodded, hoped he’d turn around and go away. Her mouth and throat felt so dry, she felt like she might choke if she uttered a sound. Damn that bloody newspaper advert.

‘Look, can we grab a quick coffee? No strings attached.’ He looked nervous, concerned, but the mask of hatred on his face was still as fresh in her mind as the day she witnessed it. ‘Just so I can explain,’ he continued. ‘So I can say sorry properly and make peace with you. What do you say?’

She couldn’t afford a scene, not here outside her workplace. No one must ever know about Stefan O’Hara and what had happened in his bedsit.

‘I could have come here and caused trouble at any time, Lucinda. But I’m here today not to confront you, but to offer an olive branch.’

He seemed reasonable, regretful even, but she still felt he wouldn’t like it if he thought she’d snubbed him. There was a small, grubby café just a couple of streets away that nobody she worked with would entertain using. She supposed they could go there.

‘I’ve only got twenty minutes until I have to go for my bus,’ she said, as confidently as she could manage. Her voice sounded raw, as if she’d been screaming, but she hoped he wouldn’t notice. ‘There’s a café I know…’

‘Lead the way.’ He smiled, stepping closer to her but taking care not to touch her. ‘Am I OK to leave the van parked here?’

He indicated a small, white van in the hotel car park and she nodded, hoping Vincent, the over-zealous parking attendant, had already left.

As they walked, Stefan spoke about why he was in Nottingham.

‘I’ve worked with young offenders for the past few years,’ he said. ‘Unbelievably, I’ve never had a criminal record myself, but I felt… well, under the circumstances, I thought I ought to try and give something back, you know?’

He glanced at her and she nodded curtly. She did know. Only too well.

‘They’re setting up a facility in Nottingham and asked me to oversee certain processes, and I thought it would be the perfect opportunity to try to put something else straight too. If I could find you.’

He was talking in riddles and Lucie felt glad of it. She didn’t want to face hearing the truth she’d denied and hidden for so long. It seemed Stefan didn’t either.

They arrived at the café.

‘Oh dear.’ He looked at the peeling paint and scuffed door. ‘Can’t imagine you frequent this place much, but there’ll be nobody you know in here, right?’

She bit her tongue and pushed open the door. He was still good at seeing right through her, even after so many years.

Stefan insisted on getting the coffees, and smiled as he put down two mugs on the sticky Formica tabletop.

‘At least they make the choice easy here. No debating over lattes or cappuccinos; it’s with milk or without milk and that’s about your lot.’

‘As basic as it gets,’ she agreed, keeping her eyes on the steaming mug.

‘Still. I haven’t come for the coffee; I’ve come to make peace with you.’ He picked up his own drink and took a hesitant slurp. ‘I left university that year, you know. I just went. Slept rough, hitchhiked around the country, lived in Edinburgh, Falmouth, Stoke. Alcohol got me through, but it was a blessing in disguise, because that’s why I’m here.’

Lucie looked at him, waiting for more. She saw him glance at her engagement ring and was thankful when he didn’t comment.

‘I’m a recovering alcoholic, Lucinda. At my lowest point, I joined Alcoholics Anonymous and they saved my life. As part of my treatment I’ve had to contact the people I’ve hurt either intentionally or otherwise and apologise to them. There’s just one person left I need to speak to, and that’s you.’

He reached for her hand, but she pulled it back.

‘What about Rhonda’s family? Have you apologised to them? All these years of not knowing what happened to their daughter…’

He looked down at the table and sighed.

‘That’s not been possible. I told you at the time she was estranged from her family. I still suffer from PTSD because of it. I think about it… about her every day. I think about you and how you’ve never said a word. You stayed true to me.’

‘Not because I didn’t want to, but because I couldn’t. Because of your threats.’

‘I’m so, so sorry, Lucinda, for what I did. I am truly ashamed. I’ll never get over it, and I doubt you will either.’ This time he grabbed her hand and held it fast. ‘Do you hear me? I am sorry, for what I did and for how you suffered. Will you accept my apology?’

Tears stung at the back of her eyes but she refused to let them show. She pressed her toes into her shoes and thought about the solid floor beneath them. She could and would get through this and hope never to set eyes on Stefan O’Hara again.