Trying Not to Love You - Part Twenty Eight

Chapter Twenty Eight

Sonny hadn’t slept, and at night with only himself for company his mind was ridiculously over active. Ethan that name haunted him, along with the devastated look on her face as she admitted to missing him. It was the last thing he expected to hear, and he didn’t know what to make of it. The thought of her loving someone else hurt him, and until then he’d honestly thought that she was playing with him, maybe that she didn’t think he was good enough for her, but at no point had he thought that she was leading a double life, that she had someone else.

It all made sense now, the fact that she was adamant that she was leaving at some point, that her time here was temporary, her disappearances back to London so frequently. Then there was those times that he’d seen her so distraught after travelling home. How had he never realised that she was living two lives? And why wasn’t she open and honest with everyone about this Ethan? If he was the love of her life why didn’t she bring him with her?

Nothing made sense, but then Martha was like that; since she’d arrived in town she’d been driving him crazy on every level. His reaction to her ramblings just meant that he travelled in circles, rethinking, his mind overactive despite his exhausted body. So he’d paced, he’d sat, he’d tried to sleep. But it was no use. Ironically it was almost six am when his eyes finally closed. When he woke there was a commotion coming from downstairs.

In just his jogging bottoms he rubbed his eyes as he entered the kitchen, to see Carl arguing with Martha.

                “Ah, Sonny, you can make her see sense, tell her she had too much to drink last night, there’s no way she can drive to London.”

Sonny shrugged, “you were pretty drunk, it’s a bit of a risk. Can’t you get the train?”

Martha had hoped to avoid him, she couldn’t remember coming home, but had woken up in her bed, Sonny had a knowing look on his face which made her think she’d made a bit of a fool of herself, she didn’t want to think about that, and the last thing she wanted was a dissection of her behaviour from the town tart. She shook her head, thinking like that, being nasty was defensive, and her real fear was that she’d thrown herself at him in lonely desperation. Avoiding him and her family was exactly what she’d planned, and she’d hoped to be in her car heading off to her darling Ethan to lick her wounds, before anyone else woke up. Instead she had to deal with a half naked specimen studying her intently, why did he have to be so overtly sensual? Why was she so attracted to him?

Shaking her head she snapped in anger, “Right! I’ll get the bloody train, and I’m not coming back tonight, the restaurant is closed and you can all look after yourselves, I’m not being your slave today.”

As she stormed out of the room, the two men looked at each other and gave a knowing smile, before Carl added, “women, hey?”

Sonny smiled, Carl was right women were a whole different species,  and he thought he was quite good with them, understood them, but not Martha, she was a bloody enigma, and he was more concerned with finding out what she was up to as her behaviour the last couple of days was out of character. Following her upstairs, he knocked her bedroom door, and when there was no answer he pushed it open. She had her back to him and was rifling through the wardrobe throwing things into a bag that sat at her feet.

                “Martha.” She froze when she heard his voice.

                “Leave me alone Carter, I’m not in the mood for this.”

He sighed, drunk the previous night she’d called him Sonny, he loved the sound of his name on her lips...though the only other time she’d used his name had been at the height of passion, and he couldn’t think of that now, he wasn’t made of steel. “What’s wrong? Why are you so angry, so wound up?”

She shrugged, she still hadn’t turned around, “guess I’m just hung over and don’t like being dictated to like a twelve year old.”

                “Your father’s just worried...”

She spun around, “and you’re the expert are you? What would you know?”

Pain lanced through him for that split second and he hated that she would use his own inner demons against him, for she was right, he had no experience of families, or parents. He shook his head, “bloody hell Martha don’t pull your punches will you?”

Martha grimaced, “I meant who made you an expert on my Dad...”

                “As opposed to not really having any experience of a father at all?”

She had the decency to blush, to look po-faced, “you know I wouldn’t say that.”

He rolled his eyes, “look last night...”

She held up a hand, “Carter I can’t do this, I WAS drunk last night, and I can only apologise if I said of did anything out of place. Things have really got on top of me, I need to get away, I need a break. Ok?”

When he didn’t make any effort to move out of her room, she threw her toiletries into the top of her bag and barged past him.

Locked in the bathroom Martha propped herself up on the sink and stared at her pale face in the mirror, she wished she remembered the previous night, she had a hint that she’d crossed the line with Sonny, and that wasn’t on, it wasn’t fair to lead him on, and she couldn’t drop her guard again.

After a quick drink and a clean of her teeth, she marched downstairs, waved a hasty goodbye, then headed for bus stop, a bus that would take her to the station.

Sonny watched her walking off into the distance from his bedroom window, and shook his head. He had wanted to challenge her over this Ethan, but she looked so weak, so needy, so vulnerable that he didn’t have it in him. Now he was even more frustrated. If she had another man he wanted to know about it. At least then he could get over her, move on...the fact that she was lying to him, a supposed friend hurt him, but then she was obviously lying to her family too. That was something that surprised him, but then he was starting to realise that like the rest of the world, innocent and good Martha had her own secrets, her own skeletons.

If he got changed really quickly, could he get on the same train as her? Trail her for the day? Was that crossing a line?

Sonny didn’t care. He had to get to the bottom of this, and there was only one way to do that.

Three hours later he felt like Magnum PI, he’d got a taxi to the station then slipped on to the back of the train at the very last moment. Sitting the opposite end of the train he had just prayed she wouldn’t see him. In Euston station he’d managed to track her through the crowds and down to the tube, getting onto the same south bound Victoria line train moments before the doors closed. He then had to hide from her, but still note when she was disembarking. Green Park was the answer, then she almost ran for the Piccadilly line, and two stops later rushed off up to Knightsbridge. She’d mentioned her godmother was loaded, but he hadn’t imagined her heading to such an exclusive address. Now he was sat on a bench in a small park opposite the huge town house she’d disappeared into half an hour earlier.

His next question was did he knock the door, announce his arrival, or stake out for a bit longer?

With Ethan’s arms around her neck and his smell permeating her nostrils, it was easy for Martha to forget the trauma of the last twenty four hours. The previous evening, and this morning she’d really lost the plot, and she was only really surprised that she’d managed to last five months without breaking down. Ethan wouldn’t leave her side, he missed her as much as she missed him, she knew that, and whilst she was here she didn’t want him out of her sight.  Stephanie was out; she always left as soon as Martha came back, after all her life was on hold to look after Ethan too.

                “Can we go to the park? Aunty Steph left bread for the ducks.”

Fresh air was a good shout, so she nodded, “it’s getting cold though, winter’s coming, you’ll have to wear your new hat and your gloves, ok?”

He stood with his hand on his hip, a direct copy of how she stood and asked, “How can I feed the ducks with gloves on?”

He was so like her it was unreal, shaking her head she laughed, “we’ll find a way.”

Grabbing the paper bag full of stale crusts and their warm coats, she led him out of the house and down the steps. Hyde Park was less than a ten minute walk away, so with linked hands they walked up the street singing Ethan’s current favourite song, London’s Burning, he loved the round with Martha singing two lines behind him, and as they walked along the broad pavement, Ethan had a skip in his step.

Sonny wondered if his jaw had actually hit the floor. He was about to cross the road, hammer at the door and confront her before he got arrested, or froze to death, he’d been sat on the same bench for over an hour, he was so under prepared for life, but in his defence he had spent most of the last two winters in prison, so the fact that he didn’t have a decent coat was to be expected, when the door had opened, and she’d come out. The pale, haggard woman who’d got off the train earlier had in some way suddenly transformed to look radiant, beautiful. The woman he knew, her joie de vivre was back, but the last thing he expected to see was a miniature version of her, holding her hand, skipping along beside her.

He looked up to the sky for a moment, taking a deep breath, then lowered his eyes back to the scene in front of him. Was this Ethan? Martha had a child? But then why the hell did no one know? Was this a dirty little secret? He was amazed that he hadn’t known, they’d spent so much time together, had seen all the signs of her sadness, she wasn’t the type to pine after a man, to cry and moan about her heart breaking. A son, that made so much more sense. But whilst this discovery immediately answered so many of those questions, it also threw up a while load of new ones.

Standing he set off after her and the boy, to the main road, and across it into the natural beauty that was Hyde Park. They’d stopped near the edge of the lake and Martha patiently helped the youngster off with his gloves, then handed him pieces of bread that he energetically ripped up and threw into the water. Soon a variety of swans, geese, ducks and various birds swarmed around them all fighting for the crumbs being tossed liberally by the boy.

Sonny was captivated, glued to the spot watching them, hardly able to believe his eyes. It was all so surreal. But the two were laughing together, she was protective of him, she loved him, it was evident in everything she did, there was no chance this wasn’t her son, they were SO alike.

He was still stood there watching the picture in front of him when the boy, he was presuming was Ethan, jumped up and down at the metallic tune emanating from an ice cream van that Sonny himself could hear off to his right.

                “Mum! Mum! Ice cream!”

He hurtled off away from Martha at a rate of knots, but Sonny’s eyes were transfixed on her, and she turned unsuspecting, and called out, “Ethan wait!”

But any other words froze on her lips as her eyes sought her errant son, and instead found those dark haunting eyes that seemed to follow her everywhere. Sonny.