“C’mon sixty-two!” I yelled, ducking behind a few spectators.
James and Conan scrambled up the climbing wall, slithered through the mud tunnel and jumped over the hurdles. After the monkey bars they did the Tarzan swing onto a platform and slid down a fireman pole. Then they climbed the higher, trickier wall and ran two laps around the course.#p#分页标题#e#
They had to do this twice and by the end of it James’s hair was wet with perspiration and Conan’s veins were bulging. Conan got to the boot camp section ahead of James. I moved to the front of the spectators and upped the encouraging shouts. James saw me, faltered, and didn’t drop for his push-ups.
“Get down and give me fifty, Scott-Thomas!” I yelled. “Push your tush or I’ll do it for you!”
James dropped to the ground. I guess I should have stopped shouting but what do you know? Yelling at him felt great so I did it again, and then I couldn’t stop. Conan looked pretty solid although he was sweating more than James, pushing his massive body up and down to deafening cheers from his fan club. When he got to the weights he looked as though he was feeling the pain and James didn’t look too steady either. Both men settled on the bench press and lifted their fifty-kilo bars. Conan had an eager supporter pandering to his ego.
I ditched the crowd and stood over James like a drill sergeant. “Push it, James! Faster! Coat that hussy with your man sweat and make that bar your bitch!”
James’s shoulders shook with laughter and the bar tilted. He would have lost but Conan’s muscles seized and he collapsed, unable to sustain his fast pumps. James finished his last lift and got up from the bench. He grinned at me and for a fraction of a second I thought he’d pick me up and kiss me just as he was, streaking with mud and sweat.
I took the few steps that separated us and grinned back at him. His eyes dulled and he retreated, avoiding my outstretched hand as if I were the grim reaper reaching out to take him to hell.
“I never got to thank you for helping me,” I said. “I can pay you back for the lawyer as soon as I’m back on my feet.”
“It was my responsibility to find the culprit, no matter who it was. Flintfire put up the lawyer.”
He was lying.
“Please, James,” I said beseechingly. “I know you’ll never forgive me, but please let me see Ryan.”
For a moment, just a millisecond, I thought he would say yes but then he turned his back. I watched him walk away, paralysed by indecision. I could run after him, try to force him to listen and make him forgive me, or I could respect his wishes and leave him alone. I locked down hard, digging my heels into the mud and forcing my body in the opposite direction.
I went through the days that followed alternating between hope and despair, like flipping a coin every five minutes. Like I flipped the upper I’d bought in Brixton. Some things never change and I still knew where to find what I wanted. The little white pill whispered to me, promising me instant oblivion. I smoothed it between my fingers, picturing James at work and seeing him on the beach at Casa Escondida. I tortured myself with images of him in bed with somebody else.
Then I got a letter from James’s solicitor stating that James had decided to allow me to see Ryan. I had to sign a strict agreement though, and adhere to its terms. In true James style the document was filled with quid pro quos and almost unintelligible legalese. Basically, I could see Ryan every other weekend accompanied by his nanny and I wasn’t allowed to tell him that I was his mother. James would decide when and if that happened.
I should have been jumping for joy instead of smudging my signature with useless tears. But I couldn’t. No matter how happy I was about being a part of Ryan’s life, I was miserable at not being part of James’s.
Two weeks later I took Ryan ice-skating at the open air rink at Hampton Court Palace for a pre-birthday treat. My son is bright and bullishly stubborn, like me, and had wanted answers about my sudden addition to his life. James told him that I was family on the Benton side and he seemed to swallow that explanation. Although, there was something in his eyes that sometimes made me wonder.#p#分页标题#e#
It had snowed earlier in the day and the ground was covered in a thin layer of sparkling white. Christmas lights and a festive atmosphere made up for the chill—from the weather, anyway. Francesca was supervising instead of the nanny and she watched us glide around the rink, her face as glacial as the ice.
So far I had avoided Francesca’s eyes—and her mouth. I didn’t want to see or hear her thoughts on what I had done to James. We skated past her and Francesca gave Ryan the thumbs-up. She looked wan, much thinner than at her party, and she was rubbing her arms.