As Weekends Go (Choc Lit) (13 page)

Rebecca gulped.

‘I’d better go,’ she whispered.

They carried on in silence to the second floor, where they saw Abi, backed against the door of her room, playfully fending off Kenny.

‘Put her down, Millsy,’ said Alex.

Rebecca coughed a couple of times to alert them.

‘Oh, there you are.’ Kenny nudged Abi as he came up for air. ‘Come via Brazil, did we?’

Abi elbowed him.

‘
WHAT?
’

‘
Ssh
, keep your voice down,’ she said, slapping her hand across his mouth.

‘Time to go, I think,’ said Alex.

Kenny tweaked Abi’s chin. ‘See you tomorrow, yeah?’ Rebecca assumed he must mean in passing, unless of course, Abi knew something Rebecca didn’t.

She glanced across at Alex, who looked as nonplussed.

Abi hugged both men goodbye.

Rebecca wanted to, but wasn’t sure whether to go ‘all out arms round the neck’, especially with Alex, or the ‘one hand on each shoulder and tilt forward’ option, by which time Kenny was upon her.

‘Sleep tight, Bex,’ he said, kissing her on the cheek.

Alex did likewise, placing a hand on her arm. ‘Goodnight, Rebecca.’

‘Goodnight,’ she stammered, a hollow feeling gripping the pit of her stomach as she watched him retreat.

‘Fancy a fag?’ whispered Abi, her face wreathed in sympathy. ‘I pinched a couple of Kenny’s. And some complimentary matches.’

‘Thought you’d given up.’

‘I have. But for one night only, I’m breaking my curfew.’ Abi shoved her key card in its slot. ‘As are you, my girl,’ she said, dragging Rebecca inside.

They made straight for the French doors, flung them open, kicked off their shoes and flopped into the loungers on Abi’s balcony.

‘Wow! What a night.’ Abi removed her earrings. ‘Did that really happen?’

‘I know. I keep veering between shame and excitement,’ said Rebecca, lighting a cigarette. She passed it to Abi then lit one for herself. Poor Abi went giddy as she inhaled, it had been so long.

‘Well, the upshot is, Mrs Stafford,’ Abi clenched Rebecca’s knee, ‘you’ve pulled a seriously fit, single footballer. And I …’ she flattened her hand to her chest, ‘his equally lush mate. Who’d have thought we’d be saying that a week ago, eh?’

Rebecca held her head in her hands.

‘Don’t you dare feel guilty,’ said Abi, wiggling her finger at her. ‘This is our weekend. Not Greg’s. Not Nick’s.
Ours
. Make the most of it. You’ll be back in Realityville on Monday.’

Rebecca took another drag on her cigarette.
Realityville
. Oh, to have a crystal ball.

‘I mean it, Bex. Life’s too short. Now, give me the low down on you and that delicious Mr Heath, because I’m telling you, woman, he fancies the pants off you.’

And with that, they spent the next hour dissecting every detail of every conversation that had taken place that evening, duly working their way through a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc, courtesy of Abi’s mini bar.

When Rebecca finally zigzagged her way back to her room, she had no idea of what she’d owned up to. Forget shopping tomorrow. She’d be lucky if she made breakfast.

She left her clothes where they fell, and very gingerly, after at least a dozen failed attempts, unclasped the necklace Abi had loaned her. She then tottered into the bathroom, reeling at her reflection in the mirror. Greg would blow his stack if he could see her.

Most un-Rebecca Stafford-like.

She attempted to clean her teeth, ending up with more toothpaste on her top lip than on her brush, before stumbling back to the bed in the half-light.

She stretched her naked body across the duvet, wondering with a big, soppy grin on her face, which room number Alex Heath was in.

Rebecca squinted at the bedside clock. 9.45 a.m. She blinked twice. No way!

She leapt off the bed, experiencing a head rush so violent it nearly floored her. Her temples throbbed. Her mouth felt like a sawdust pit. She had the hangover from hell, quadrupled.

Temporarily blinded by the intense sunlight streaming in through the French doors, she ducked out of its path and in all her naked glory, stumbled into the bathroom for a sober-me- up shower.

Twenty minutes later she emerged, buffed and hair washed, wrapped in one of the luxuriously thick bath towels, feeling human again.

She took two headache pills with a glass of water, trying desperately hard to remember what she was supposed to be doing that day.

She saw her phone lying on the floor by the bed. It must have fallen out of her bag when she flung it down last night. Damn!

She picked it up and switched it on. It bleeped straight away. A text from Greg, received over an hour ago:
Playing golf, so won’t be free to talk until after two o’clock.

Remorse descended. It was so out of character for her not to have acknowledged the previous night’s voice message he’d left her. And now this text.

Her room phone buzzed.

Abi, sounding remarkably sober, ‘How’s the head this morning? A little fragile, are we?’

‘Just a bit,’ said Rebecca, slumping down on the bed.

‘I’m not surprised.’ Abi laughed. ‘Dare I ask if you’re still up for some retail therapy? Or shall I bog off and let you crawl back under the duvet?’

‘No, no,’ said Rebecca, wondering why she hadn’t been under it to start with. ‘Give me half an hour and I’ll be ready.’

‘Cool! I’ll give you a knock. We’ve missed breakfast, but don’t worry, we’ll grab a liquid lunch in town somewhere.’

‘Fab,’ said Rebecca, feeling bilious at the thought. ‘See you in a bit.’

She hung up, deciding that she’d abandon texting Greg back until she could think straighter.

She dried her hair, tying it in its trademark ponytail, selected jeans and a red and white striped T-shirt to wear, picked up her straw tote bag and sunglasses and opened the door just as Abi emerged from her own room, also wearing jeans, paired with a strappy, mauve sun top for maximum tanning potential.

‘Ready to rock?’ Abi asked as they both pulled their doors shut.

Apart from one or two guests in the lounge reading newspapers, the lobby seemed fairly quiet when they arrived downstairs.

Rebecca glanced in the bar. Danny must be doing the late shift. There was no sign of him. Or Jack Byrnes. Or The Doberman. Unless they didn’t work on Sundays.

The only face they recognised was concierge Bernard’s.

‘Morning, ladies. Did you have a pleasant evening?’ he asked.

Rebecca waited for the tumbleweed to roll past his desk.

She knew she was blushing as red as her T-shirt, but suspected that whatever Bernard might or might not have heard about them from last night, he’d no more let on than start off a conga across the car park.

‘Yes, thanks, Bernard,’
said Abi, upholding her usual poise. ‘Great table you booked for us.’

‘Splendid!’ he said, all twinkly-eyed. ‘Glad to hear it. Anything else I can be of assistance with?’

‘We’re just off to the shops, actually.’

‘Taxi, perhaps?’

‘You spoil us, Bernard,’ said Abi, eliciting another twinkle.

Whilst they were waiting, they had a browse at the goodies on display in the glass cabinets. Abi drooled over a pair of white gold earrings. Rebecca couldn’t imagine what she’d be like when they hit the city centre.

Oddly, neither of them had mentioned Alex and Kenny so far at all. It was as if it was a taboo subject, like they were waiting to see who would crack first, even though they’d blatantly caught each other casting furtive glances around.

‘So, did your boss recommend any particular shops to you?’ asked Rebecca.

‘Oh, yes. I have a list.’ Abi patted her handbag. ‘Can’t see us fitting in the Minster today. We might have to whiz back in the morning, if it’s not too heavy a night tonight, of course.’

‘Why? What’s happening tonight?’ said Rebecca, seeing Abi’s cheeks redden.

‘Your taxi awaits, ladies,’ said Bernard, politely interrupting her.

They hurried towards the main door.

Rebecca followed Abi down the steps and into the back of the car, determined to find out why she looked so sheepish.

Something to do with Kenny, per chance?

Alex whacked his tee shot straight into the rough.

‘Not like you, bruv,’ said Kenny. ‘Something on your mind?’

‘What do
you
think?’ Alex picked up his golf clubs and started walking down the fairway.

Kenny drew alongside him. ‘It wouldn’t have anything to do with a certain blonde, about five six, goes by the name of Rebecca, would it?’

Alex didn’t answer him.

‘Thought so.’

Two regulars trundled past in a golf buggy. ‘Nice day for it, boys. Hardly a soul out here,’ one of them hollered, smiling all over his weather-beaten face. ‘Too hot, I expect. Lazy bar-stewards.’ He recognised Alex. ‘Good luck for next season, skipper! Bring us that title home.’

‘I’ll do my best,’ said Alex, raising his club in acknowledgement.

He waited until the buggy had disappeared over a hillock, before turning back to Kenny. ‘It’s got nothing to do with Rebecca,’ he said, which wasn’t strictly true. ‘What planet were you and Liam on in the club last night, Millsy? Snorting all sorts of shit up your noses. I thought you’d done with all that stuff.’

Kenny’s face fell. ‘I
had
. It’s Zoe’s fault for giving me so much grief this week.’

Alex knew Kenny had yet again split with his on/off girlfriend of five years, which meant them constantly sniping over their young son, Connor. Whenever Kenny spent time with Connor, he doted on him, but he needed to start taking responsibility for his actions during those times when he didn’t. Zoe could be hard work, but generally with good reason. Kenny always assumed he could talk, charm or fight his way out of anything. Alex should know; he’d risked his career on more than one occasion in the past, using his clout to smooth things over with some local hard nut or other Millsy had pissed off.

As for Liam Tyler, if the rumours Alex had heard bouncing around the training ground at the end of last season were true, he was bound for the transfer list. Good player aside, it would serve him right. How many young kids out there would love to be in his boots?

Fuckin’ idiot!

Cigarettes and alcohol were one thing, Alex indulged in the latter himself when off-duty, so to speak, although he’d long-accepted that staying in peak condition equalled moderation. It was the illegal recreational drugs that he had no time for.

‘You may as well hit yours,’ he said, pointing to Kenny’s ball. ‘No idea where mine is.’ He headed off in search of it towards a cluster of silver birch trees.

They played the next three holes in silence, allowing Alex plenty of time to reflect on why a woman he’d known for less than forty-eight hours had affected him so much. How without any intentional provocation, she’d incited within him such a fierce longing. Lust aside, a woman whose veiled sadness and sheer vulnerability had made him want to wrap her up and take her home, comfort and protect her. Whether she’d known the cost of the champagne or not, she’d been so obsessed with not wanting to take advantage that he could have asked for half, and she would have paid it, which made him want to spoil her even more, which equalled dangerous territory because however much he wanted her, she was another man’s wife.

‘Zoe wants to take Connor to Tenerife for two months,’ said Kenny, spontaneously, at the fifth tee.

‘Go on,’ said Alex.

‘Her mum and dad have moved out there permanently, so she wants to stay with them in their villa. No point in me going. Her old man hates me. Always has done.’

‘Has Zoe suggested you go then?’

‘Yeah, but just for a week or two. Fuck that! All we’d do is row. I told her she could take Connor for a month, tops, and she went apeshit!’

‘So stay in a separate apartment. You can always fly back if it doesn’t work out. You’re pretty much your own boss, Millsy. It’d be good for Connor to have you both out there. As for Zoe’s dad hating you, try giving him a reason
not
to for once.’

Kenny kicked away a loose divot. ‘We’ll see!’ He lit up a cigarette. ‘Let’s talk about tonight. That’ll cheer you up.’

Alex wasn’t so certain. The prospect of spending a night with Kenny’s lot in his cousin’s restaurant was about as joyous as groin strain.

‘Should be two more joining us for dinner,’ said Kenny, grinning. ‘I’ve asked Abi and Rebecca to come. Well, Abi, anyway.’

Alex’s head shot up. ‘When?’

‘Last night. She said she’d tell Rebecca today. That’ll put a smile back on your face.’

Secretly buzzing inside at this piece of news, Alex hit a superb shot off the tee, straight down the middle of the fairway.

Rebecca led Abi through the door of the nearest coffee shop, after they’d given up all hope of getting into number three on Abi’s boss’s ‘Things to do in York’ list – the famous Betty’s Tea Rooms. Clearly a mecca for tourists, with its 1930s inspired art deco interior, the queue had been massive. No wonder, looking at some of the delectable goodies on offer. Rebecca had quite fancied a Fat Rascal, or as Abi had called it, a mutant scone with cherry and nuts on top.

They bagged the last two window seats, having each ordered a latte and an almond croissant.

‘So, what’s happening tonight?’ asked Rebecca, chasing flakes of pastry round her plate with her finger. ‘You started to say something when we were waiting for the taxi but looked a bit uncertain.’

‘
Well …
’ said Abi, cupping both hands round her latte, eyes sparkling. ‘Kenny mentioned to me about going to his cousin’s restaurant tonight, but I wasn’t sure you’d be up for it. I didn’t say anything to you last night because by the time we’d finished debating all the juicy gossip in my room, you were plastered. Anyway, Kenny says if we fancy it, to meet him in the bar at 8.30. The restaurant’s just outside the city centre, apparently. Also, after you left me last night, Kenny rang my room. Once he’d finally accepted that I wasn’t inviting him in for wild, kinky sex, we ended up having a right old chit-chat.’

Rebecca couldn’t help laughing. ‘
And?
’

‘Oh, he told me loads about himself and his ex-girlfriend – that’s little Connor’s mum, by the way. How annoyed he gets when she mucks him about over access. Mind you, she doesn’t sound as bad as Alex’s ex, well, towards the end of their relationship, anyway. You do remember me telling you that Kenny said she’d sold her story to the papers, don’t you?’

Rebecca nodded as the memory flooded back. She’d been more troubled by the Alex and his granddad part of the tale. How could his girlfriend have deserted him at such a sad time?

Stop dwelling on what’s clearly none of your business, Rebecca.

‘Of course, then I opened up about my reservations concerning Nick’s mate’s stag do,’ Abi continued, ‘and then we moved on to Alex again, about him owning a five-bed villa on the Algarve, plus an apartment in Florida and properties here, and that he’s really generous with his family, and everything. I’d have pushed Kenny further if he hadn’t changed the subject. It’s amazing what people tell you when they’re pissed or high on wacky backy or whatever it was he took in that club last night. As if we hadn’t noticed!’

Fascinated by the Alex-related bits, Rebecca stayed quiet. She didn’t comment on the dodgy Kenny-related bits, either, remembering Alex’s irritation with it all.

‘So, what do you reckon then?’ Abi asked. ‘About tonight, I mean?’

‘I’m not sure,’ said Rebecca. ‘Won’t I be a bit of a gooseberry?’

‘No, because Alex is going.’

For an instant, Rebecca lost awareness of where she was; people, sounds, scents merged into one as her mind unscrambled the assumption that Abi had meant just Kenny. She hadn’t yet thought how she’d react if and when she saw Alex again that weekend. She was still nursing the after-effects of her hangover and fretting about texting Greg back. ‘Alex knows we’ve been invited, I take it?’

‘Does it matter?’ said Abi, easing the strap of her sun top back onto her shoulder. ‘I can’t see him being disappointed, can you?’

Rebecca’s tummy fluttered.

‘We’re off home tomorrow, Bex. Let’s focus on making the most of our time here. If we’re going to this restaurant later, I vote we grab ourselves some mighty fine new togs to wear. What do you say, partner?’ She slapped her thigh and gave an exaggerated wink.

‘I haven’t said I’m going yet,’ Rebecca teased.

‘So you’d rather sit in the hotel bar with that old stinky-breathed comb-over?’

Rebecca grimaced at the prospect. ‘Just a meal, you say? No nightclubs?’

‘Not a chance,’ said Abi, face full of hope. ‘From what Kenny said on the phone to me last night, the restaurant sounds quite secluded, so at least we won’t be like sitting ducks.’

Rebecca sighed into her latte. ‘I must be crazy …’

Abi blew a grateful kiss to the heavens. ‘
Excellent!
Now, drink up. I feel a serious browse round the shops coming on.’

‘Oh my word, you have to buy it,’ said Abi, swooning over the two-tone yellow chiffon dress that Rebecca had tried on. ‘It looks absolutely stunning on you.’

‘Yes, it does,’ agreed the mumsy shop assistant, knitting her hands together under her chin. ‘Especially with your lovely blonde hair. All feminine and floaty.’

‘I do like it,’ said Rebecca, playing with the dress’s knotted sash.

‘Right, you’re having it.’ Abi shooed her back into the cubicle. She’d already bought her dress – a slinky black and white number with frilled neckline.

Rebecca passed the shop assistant her MasterCard.
Sod it!
It wasn’t often she treated herself, so why not? She’d just have to make sure she got the wear out of it.

‘Do you fancy a drink?’ said Abi as soon as their feet hit the pavement. Her boss and his wife had recommended a couple of gastro pubs. Less busy than the main drag, they’d said.