“Costa Rica?” I give a weird half laugh, although what I really want to do is cry at the idea of Joe sitting alone, googling places to go and live in disgrace.
“I know. I was all over the place. I was…not thinking properly at all.” He shakes his head as though ridding himself of old thoughts, then looks up. “And then, right in the middle of it all, you came back from San Francisco. You were happy. Your life was going well. I just couldn’t bear to tell you what a mess mine was. Hi, remember me, your doctor boyfriend, well, funny story about that…That’s why I sat in Nutworth, clinging onto the steering wheel, in a kind of frozen panic.”
“But I would have helped!” I exclaim, breathing hard in agitation. “I would have helped! I would have done anything—”
“Of course you would.” He looks at me with a kind of wry tenderness. “I knew that then. I knew you’d throw everything you had into supporting me, and I couldn’t stand it. What if I ended up in court? What if I ended up in the papers and you suffered some of my disgrace? I felt I didn’t deserve you. I felt…tainted.”
“Tainted?” I echo in dismay, and Joe winces.
“I was in a very bad place. For quite a long time.”
“But…wait,” I say stupidly, as it suddenly occurs to me. “You’re still in a job. You’re Dr. Joe! What happened?”
“I was lucky,” says Joe wryly. “The surgeon was spotted injecting himself again, by a pair of nursing staff. Because there were two of them, he couldn’t railroad them, and gradually it all came out. After a lot of meetings, I was cleared. But I was a wreck. I couldn’t relax, couldn’t sleep… Luckily, a colleague spotted the signs and sent me off to get help. And now…” He gestures at himself. “Good as new. Almost. Actually, I think the whole experience helped me when the TV thing kicked off,” he adds. “I had perspective. Coping strategies.”
No wonder Joe was a wreck. I feel a total wreck listening to all this, and it didn’t even happen to me. I sink down onto the wooden floor, trying to digest it all, and after a moment, Joe follows suit.
I have a lot of questions I could ask, but there’s only one I really want to.
“Why didn’t you tell me before?” I say, trying not to sound as upset as I feel. “It’s been four years, Joe. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I know.” Joe squeezes his eyes shut briefly. “I should have done. But I felt so shit. So utterly shit. I knew what I’d done to you was unforgivable. And the more I got my head back to normal, the worse I felt about the way I’d treated you. I didn’t want you thinking I was asking for forgiveness. Or trying to get back into your life. I didn’t want to sound as if I was…asking for sympathy.”
Asking for sympathy? After that ordeal? Only Joe Murran could be so hard on himself. It’s the secret of his success, but it’s the secret of his problems too.
“I wouldn’t have thought any of that.” I look at his face, wanting suddenly to give him a long, tight hug. “You know I wouldn’t.”
“The trouble is, the longer I left it, the harder it was.” He shrugs. “If it makes you feel any better, I only told Mum the whole story about a month ago.”
“A month ago?” I stare at him. “Your mum?”
“I know.” He nods, shamefaced. “She was shocked. Really shocked. Quite distraught. Then, almost at once, she said, ‘Joe, you have to tell Effie.’ I actually came to this party hoping you’d be here. Hoping I might have a chance to…put things straight. Four years too late.”
My mind drifts back to that awful meeting, four years ago, in the café. Joe could barely meet my eye. He sounded like a robot. But instead of wondering if there was more to it, I took him at face value. I blamed him. But I should have known. I should have known.
“Joe, I feel terrible,” I say in a rush of remorse. “I said some awful things to you.”
“I don’t blame you,” says Joe quickly. “You felt let down. It was understandable.”
As his eyes flick to my collarbone again, I remember my savage parting shot to him. Well, it’s lucky you only gave me the Smallest Diamond in the World. I didn’t mind too much when I chucked it in the bin.
Now I let myself remember the devastated look in his eyes as I said it. Why didn’t I notice that? Why didn’t I realize?
“I wish you’d told me, Joe.” I smile, but there are tears on my lashes. “I understand why you didn’t, but I really, really wish you had. It might have meant…” I swallow. “We might not be…”