***
August 2004
They were lying in the park at the top of the hill, sunglasses on, listening to music from a tinny portable speaker.
‘All right, Angel?’ Lucas nudged her shoulder, squeezing her fingers.
‘Why do you call me that?’
‘Angel?’ Lucas grinned. ‘Because you are! You’re the good girl in the big house, and I’m the boy who sold his soul to the devil for rock and roll.’
‘If you’d sold your soul you’d play a lot better than you do,’ Megan laughed, ‘and I don’t know where you got this idea about me.’
‘It’s your halo, baby. Shining bright as always. It’s just the way it is; I break, you fix. I sin, you save.’
Megan sat up and took off her sunglasses so he could see the face she was making.
‘You have heard of the Madonna-Whore Complex?’
‘Is that her latest album?’ He laughed, still lying back against the grass.
‘Why do you think you’re the bad guy?’
‘Because the truth is that you’re going to go off and have this big exciting life. And as much as I want to make music, I’m gonna end up here. I’m going to look after my mum every time another fella leaves, and I’m gonna get a job in the mechanic’s or driving a tractor or something, and that’s it for me.’ He stretched briefly, catlike, before resting his hands behind his head again. His face didn’t change.
‘That doesn’t make you a bad guy,’ Megan said, stroking his cheek.
‘No, it doesn’t. But when the time comes for you to leave, I’m not going to be selfless. I’m not going to want to let you go. Even when it’s best for you. And that makes me a bad guy.’
Megan shook her head, but didn’t really know what to say, so she just lay down next to him and said nothing.
‘Don’t let me stop you, okay Angel? You’ve got big, important things to do. Don’t make me that person that stops you,’ Lucas said softly, kissing her cheek and turning the music up.
***
That night Megan escaped the family games night, and said she had some errands to run. She paused in the hallway, watching her daughter laughing at Matty, helping Jasper move the little pieces around the board on the coffee table. It was a picture-perfect tableau and she was glad to witness it. She was also glad not to be part of it. Somehow every time she was happy, it felt fake. And now there was one question gnawing at her that had to be answered. She was going to start putting stuff right, and it was going to start with Lucas.
After getting the address from Estelle, she jumped in the 2CV and trundled down the hill, out past the farms and the new-build flats, and then up higher and higher until she reached his house. The Foxhole, she noted the hand-carved sign. Cute. She turned off the engine and got out of the car, wavering about whether to knock.
It was a sweet bungalow, old fashioned, with a double barn door at the side, where she could see light escaping around the edges. Suddenly the top part of the door swung open, and there was Lucas, lighting up a cigarette and leaning on the door.
His eyes met hers in the darkness and he jumped.
‘Holy shit, woman! Did you come here to kill me?’ He clutched his chest, throwing the barely-lit cigarette out into a little tin bucket on the floor.
‘It’s not my fault you have no lights out here!’ she argued, moving forward.
‘Don’t have many visitors,’ he breathed, still sounding irritated. ‘I’m the town hermit.’
‘Know many hermits who play on stage and ferry around the choir from door to door?’ Megan rolled her eyes.
‘Saintly ones. I’m atoning for my sins in this village,’ Lucas said lightly, starting to roll another cigarette. His hands appeared to be shaking a little, and he rubbed them together. ‘Damn it’s cold out.’
‘What sins?’ Megan already knew.
‘Well…it’s hard to live here when you’ve done wrong by the great Megan McAllister.’
She could believe that, all too easily.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said helplessly, ‘but why didn’t you tell the truth?’
‘I didn’t know the truth.’ Lucas stared into the darkness, eyes briefly illuminated by the flame of the lighter.
‘You knew she wasn’t yours.’
Lucas took a deep breath and looked at her, that same silly smile. He looked good. He’d always been gorgeous, first in that poseur rock way, then simply because when he smiled he made her stomach flip. Now he looked like a man. Someone real, and warm and strong. And still just a little bit broken.
‘I wanted to protect you, Angel. I still do.’
Megan sighed, stamped her foot a little. ‘Haven’t got a spare cigarette, have you?’
‘You can share mine. I don’t really smoke any more anyway. It’s just…that kind of night. And here you are on my doorstep, wanting to drag it all out.’
‘I don’t want to drag it out, I want to apologise.’ She toked on the cigarette he offered her, trying not to cough as she breathed out. ‘I want to explain.’
Lucas rubbed the back of his neck, stretching. ‘Meg, you think we could just ignore all that stuff tonight? Why don’t you just come in, have a cuppa, and tell me about your life?’
His house wasn’t what she’d expected. It was an adult abode. Sure there were music posters, but they were in posh frames, and everything had a very fitted look about it. He had sofa cushions, for Christ’s sake. She had to wonder if Estelle had it wrong, if there was a woman in his life to make this all look so…complete. Not that she cared, of course. It had been a long time. She’d expected him to move on, she wanted it. She just didn’t want to see it.
Megan picked at her nail varnish, hovering in the living room as he disappeared into the corner of the open-plan kitchen to put the kettle on.
‘This isn’t what I expected,’ she told him, unwinding her scarf.
‘Thinking more black walls and neon signs?’ he called back, grin in place.
‘Was thinking more bachelor pad. Technology and smooth lines, massive TV, all that bloke stuff.’
Lucas raised an eyebrow. ‘Was I ever your average bloke?’
She twitched her mouth in assent. ‘Nope.’
Lucas shrugged and got two mugs from the cupboard. ‘To be fair, a lot of this stuff’s Mum’s. She left it to me.’
‘Your mum’s…gone?’ Her chest contracted a little. This was what happened when you didn’t talk. His mum was good woman, always about with tea and cake, let them get away with murder up in his room, never complained about the music, came to every gig she could. Her life was a mess, but she was a good person…
‘Calm down, Meg, she’s gone to Spain. Living with this bloke out there who sells time shares or something. I’m sure she’ll come running back when it all falls apart.’
Meg shrugged, he wasn’t wrong. As lovely as Linda Bright was, things never seemed to stick for her.
‘How’s Clare?’
‘Really well.’