This Could Change Everything(65)

‘Hello, Conor.’

Zillah looked surprised. ‘Do you two know each other?’

After a moment’s hesitation, Margaret said, ‘Conor used to work for me.’

And Zillah, swiftly putting two and two together, said, ‘Ah, I see.’

But now wasn’t the time for awkward words of explanation, so Conor simply said, ‘It’s nice to see you again. Now, shall we take some more photos?’

And on the screen of the iPad, Gail said, ‘Ooh, the baby’s kicking! Mum, look, can you see? That’s a foot!’

Twenty minutes later, a visibly tiring Barbara was wheeled off to the bathroom by the paramedics, prior to being taken back to the hospice. Margaret signalled discreetly to Conor. ‘Could we have a quick chat? Would that be OK?’

He followed her outside and they sat together on a wooden bench in front of a stone fountain.

‘I’m sorry.’ Margaret wasted no time. ‘I really am. And you might not believe me, but I’ve been close to contacting you so many times over the last couple of years.’

This was the last thing Conor had expected to hear. ‘Why?’

‘Because I wanted to thank you for making me rethink my life. You were the catalyst. I was blind, driven, self-centred. Nothing else mattered, only work. And winning, at any cost.’

Conor nodded. Well, that had been true enough.

‘After you left the firm, I assumed I’d forget what had happened. But it wouldn’t go away. Then Barbara became ill, and all of a sudden I realised that being alive was more important than being successful. That was the other half of the wake-up call. Once Barbara was better, I knew I needed to change my life. I went part-time at the practice, and I took up yoga. I also have dogs now,’ Margaret went on. ‘And I love them to bits. After all those decades, I’ve finally learned to relax.’

Conor couldn’t resist it. ‘Apart from where roadworks are concerned.’

‘OK, I’m still learning.’ She smiled briefly. ‘Maybe one day getting stuck in traffic won’t drive me to distraction. But as yet, I haven’t turned into a saint. I’m not Maria von Trapp.’

‘So you wanted to write to me,’ said Conor, ‘but you didn’t. Why not?’

‘I wasn’t sure you’d want to hear from me. Besides, you’d put your old life behind you. I googled you, found your website, saw that you were doing what you wanted to do.’

‘I was.’ Conor nodded, moved by her admission. ‘I still am.’

‘Do you earn less money now?’

Amused, he said, ‘A lot less.’

‘And you do this, too.’ She gestured to his camera. ‘It’s wonderful! I had no idea.’

‘I love doing it. Zillah’s the driving force, though. She’s the one who funds and arranges everything. I just turn up and take the photos.’

‘And how about the rest of your life? Are you married? Do you have children?’

‘Not yet.’

‘Are you seeing anyone?’

‘I am.’ It was so weird, being asked these questions by Margaret Kale of all people.

‘And is it serious?’

‘We haven’t been together for long. But it’s going . . . pretty well.’ Did he want to tell her about Belinda and Evie, to explain the fateful connection between the four of them? He hesitated, because it was that connection that had seemed to convince everyone else that the relationship was meant to be. As if, having found each other, he and Belinda couldn’t possibly break up.

He was saved from having to make the decision by the metallic rattle of wheels as the doors opened and the stretcher was guided down the ramp.

‘Well anyway, thank you.’ Margaret rose to her feet. ‘I’m glad you’re happy now. And I’m extremely glad you made me stop and rethink my own life.’

The next couple of minutes passed in a flurry of farewells as Barbara was made comfortable. Finally, once Daisy and Hector had returned to the hotel and while Zillah and Essie were heading back to the car, Conor said, ‘Margaret?’

‘Yes?’ She turned, and he experienced a pang of affection he’d never imagined feeling for his ruthless ex-boss.

‘Thanks for telling me.’ He broke into a smile. ‘I’m glad too.’

Picking up his phone on Monday, Lucas mentally prepared himself to make the call. How could you love someone, yet dread the prospect of speaking to them? You’d think, after so many years, that he’d be used to it by now. But the sensation of impending doom or unease never went away.

Five minutes later, it was over. He’d spoken to his mother and now his duty was done for another couple of weeks. She hadn’t yelled and she hadn’t wept, which was a bonus. She’d sounded OK, but as distant as ever. He always got the impression that she’d rather be doing anything else rather than having to speak to him. Well, the odds were that this was true. She was probably checking her watch the whole time, mentally willing him to get off the phone so she could get on with doing the only thing she really enjoyed doing . . .

Bloody hell, what a way to live, what a mess.

‘Did you call her?’ Giselle emerged from the bathroom wearing his too-big dressing gown and towel-drying her wet hair.

‘Yes.’

‘What was she like?’