Toby’s whole body stiffened.
“I . . . I haven’t. . . .”
“You have. Let’s stop the lies now. You owe me that.” Saul looked up at him, his face tearstained.
Toby pulled him even closer so he didn’t have to look at him. “I’ve been going on walks near there to try to get my head straight, that’s all,” he whispered into his husband’s ear.
“But you hate walking. . . .”
“There’s so much going on in our lives at the moment and I’ve needed to find a moment to myself. I’ve been driving up to that car park by the footpath.”
* * *
—
Toby couldn’t believe he’d bought it but Saul had been so relieved—it meant he could get back to full-on packing for the trip.
Toby had wanted to cancel the whole thing but Kevin told him he should go ahead with it.
“Don’t do anything to draw attention. And being away is a good thing.”
But he should say now. Stop all this. Just say it. We haven’t got enough money to pay for a baby, Saul. It’s all gone. He practiced it as the cappuccino froth collapsed in front of him. He should say now. Now.
“Saul,” he managed before his treacherous tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth.
“What? Come on, haven’t you finished that coffee yet? It’s two thirty! Go and get ready. I’ve never been in the VIP lounge at Heathrow—think of all that free champagne. I might have a massage. Come on!”
Toby was hauled out of his chair and into the nightmare to come. “Saul,” he tried again but he said it so softly that his husband didn’t seem to hear. He was already out of the door, wheeling the new suitcases into the hall and laughing about something.
Toby couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed. Or slept. He’d tell Saul when they got there. It was too late now. He’d tell Saul the first evening in LA. That their plans had to change. But he knew he wouldn’t. How could he? What would he say about the money? Where it had gone. Why he couldn’t get it back.
It was his fault. He should never have booked the flights. He’d jinxed it all by buying two first-class tickets to Los Angeles. It’d been a special offer in his inbox in June—too good to miss, he’d told himself. He’d have the money to pay for them in plenty of time with his investment due to pay out. But he should never have gone ahead.
The thing was, he would have done anything to make his husband happy. And all Saul wanted was to have a child. “It would complete us,” Saul had announced from the other pillow on Toby’s birthday just over a year ago.
And Toby had been thrilled initially. “A family . . . I’d love that.” It would mean adopting or finding a surrogate and he wondered if his sister would do it. Or Saul’s old friend from school.
“We could ask Joanie,” he said.
And Saul laughed. “I’m not being funny but we don’t want Joanie’s DNA anywhere near our baby. You haven’t met her parents. . . . Anyway, this isn’t going to be a DIY project. No turkey basters, thank you. If we can afford my plastic surgery, we can afford the specialist clinics in America. They’re the go-to. Five-star reviews.”
When Toby had looked, the prices had literally winded him. “You’re talking about a hundred grand,” he gasped.
“We are talking about our child. It’ll be worth it. You’ll see.”
And so he’d booked. And kept it from Saul. It was to have been the big reveal—a limo pulling up at the door, bags secretly packed by him, a bottle of fizz in the car. He spent hours planning every detail. He wanted to see Saul’s face when he opened the front door to the chauffeur, and feel the surge of joy when he told his husband they were on their way. He’d be the happiest man in the world. But Saul had been on his own when the travel company had rung with a query and Toby had had to tell him everything. Well, almost everything. Saul had been bowled over and it’d been a wonderful day.
But the money hadn’t arrived. And then Charlie Perry had stopped taking his calls.
The limo parked outside was a gleaming black monster that could take an entire school prom.
Toby picked up his jacket with the boarding passes in the inside pocket and walked out into the sunshine.
Saul was already in his leather-upholstered seat, holding a champagne flute and looking for the cheesy biscuits, when the car drew up and two women got out.
“Mr. Greene? We are police officers,” one of them said.
Toby sat down hard on the pavement. The chauffeur jumped out and ran round the front of the car just as the officers reached him.