As Weekends Go (Choc Lit) (14 page)

They headed for Coney Street, cutting down a side road past the cinema to the river, only to find every table on the outside terraces heaving with people. Even the walkways, overlooking the river, seethed. The weather had brought folk out in droves, the numerous tourists among them filming the many boats and barges crossing the waters.

‘Quick! They’re going,’ said Abi, pointing out a young couple on the rise. She slapped her bum down on one of the chrome chairs in seconds. ‘Phew! That was lucky.’ She took out her purse. ‘You stay here. I’ll go get us a bottle of vino.’

Rebecca would have preferred iced water, but didn’t argue. Hair of the dog, and so forth …

As soon as Abi left, she took out her phone to call Greg. After two o’clock, he’d said, so timing-wise it was perfect. Much better that she spoke to him, given her non-responses to his messages.

Although ‘spoke to him’ was stretching things.

‘It’s not convenient, Bex. I’ll talk to you later,’ was all he said to her when he answered her call; the positive for Rebecca being that the terse, impatient voice she’d grown used to hearing lately, whenever she accidentally interrupted him, especially at work, sounded guarded rather than cross.

‘Was that Lord Stafford?’ Abi asked, seeing Rebecca drop her phone in her bag as she returned with a bottle of Chablis. ‘I tried to get hold of Nick earlier on but kept getting some funny beeping sound. He’s probably broken his bloody phone. And you wonder why I didn’t want him to take my camera with him.’

Rebecca smiled at her. ‘I needn’t have bothered calling Greg. We were off the phone in thirty seconds flat. I didn’t dare risk reminding him to put the rubbish out tomorrow morning.’

The waiter grinned at them both as he plonked a bowl of cheesy chips on their table. Abi must have ordered them to soak up the wine.

Rebecca tucked in, finding it increasingly hard not to brood over what lay ahead of her with Greg in the coming weeks.

She had tonight to get through first.

‘Right, come on, missy,’ said Abi, tapping her watch not long afterwards. ‘Let’s have a stroll down The Shambles, and head back via Stonegate. According to Richard’s wife, they’re all medieval and cobbled, with loads of quirky little shops.’

Rebecca remembered Greg saying something about The Shambles. How narrow it was, and how some of the buildings dated back to the fifteenth century. He’d maintained it was York’s oldest street, said she’d love it.

On reflection, they should have done the shops the previous day, what with early closing. There was so much to pack in. All those enchanting little footpaths to explore, or Snickelways as Greg had called them. Never mind, at least they’d both bought an outfit and, in Rebecca’s case, a snazzy matching bag.

She recalled Alex jesting with her about her having lots of carrier bags, and peered into the one containing her dress, the texture of the material between her fingers fuelling her excitement at the thought of wearing it later.

Greg had originally planned to shoot off after his game of golf but had bumped into Nina in the hotel lobby, who’d insisted on buying him Sunday lunch. A triumphant round-off to a highly successful weekend, she’d said. On
all
fronts!

Why not? Greg had told himself. Especially with Rebecca being away.

Next thing he’d known, they were sitting in some country pub not far from Gatwick Airport.

‘We really should make tracks soon,’ he said, checking his watch. ‘As nice as this has been, I have a mountain of conference stuff to upload and check ahead of going into the office tomorrow.’

‘Oh, come on, you’re going out of your way to drive me back to Wimbledon. At least let me buy you another coffee,’ said Nina, tilting her head to one side. ‘Don’t be a party pooper.’

She summoned over the portly waiter, flashing him an exasperated look. ‘I don’t know,’ she said, ‘
men
, eh? Always so busy busy busy.’

The waiter smiled down at her, hauling his eyes from the scoop of her silky white vest top.

‘Two coffees, please,’ she said, returning his smile. ‘One black, no sugar.’

‘Oh, terrific!’ said Greg, under his breath. ‘Three of the sales guys have just walked in.’

‘So ignore them,’ said Nina.

Greg couldn’t. They’d waved at him and were now standing at the bar, right in his eyeline.
Great.
Now the whole sodding office would be gossiping.

‘What time does Rebecca’s train get in tomorrow?’ said Nina, changing the subject before he could comment further.

‘Do you know, I can’t even recall what she said. Afternoon some time, I think.’

‘So you’ll be fending for yourself this evening, then?’

‘Looks that way!’

Greg knew where Nina’s mind was heading with this; the doe-eyes and double entendres over lunch had stirred things up between them again, reminding him of ‘that’ kiss they’d shared last night.

Typical of Rebecca to go and call him just as they’d sat down. He’d had to excuse himself to take the call outside. He’d cut her off pretty sharpish too, but she’d soon be okay once he brought her up to date with everything … well, nearly everything. He knew he’d pushed his luck with her these last few months, but he needed to keep his ever-popular, loving, loyal, reliable little anchor firmly onside.

They finished their coffees, after which Nina settled the bill. Greg could see his colleagues peering out of the window at them as they walked back across the car park. The Lexus felt like a furnace when they opened its doors.

They’d only just driven away when Nina’s mobile rang. Greg could tell it was a man on the other end of the line, by the way she spoke. One word answers. Voice clipped. Probably old Charlie boy calling her from his yacht.

Greg experienced a spike of jealousy, yet it was coupled with an intense feeling of superiority that he had Nina exactly where he wanted her.

They spent the rest of the journey back to Wimbledon discussing budgets, prominent clients and potential leasing contracts, until Nina instructed Greg to pull over.

‘Why have we stopped here?’ he asked, staring up at a grey, nondescript block of flats. ‘I thought you and Charles lived in the village.’

Nina flicked back her hair. ‘We do. This is my friend’s place. She’s in Sydney, so I’m flat-sitting. Come up for a nose, if you like?’

‘You’ve left him, haven’t you?’

Nina bowed her head. ‘Not exactly. We’re having a trial separation.’

Greg sniggered. ‘Just as well you never married the old fart.’

‘Don’t be spiteful.’ Nina turned to face him. ‘Do you know, I never thought I’d say this, Greg, but I envy Rebecca.’

‘Nina …
don’t
.’

‘I’m sorry, but it’s true.’ She opened her handbag and took out a pen, scribbled something on the back of one of her business cards. ‘My landline number here at the flat,’ she said, placing the card on his dashboard. ‘You may as well have it. We’ll be working together, remember?’

‘I thought that’s what mobiles were for,’ he teased. ‘Besides, should we be this cocksure when nothing’s been officially announced as yet?’

‘Greg, you know it’s a safe bet, now take it.’

She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. ‘Sure I can’t tempt you to one for the road? Tea, coffee, glass of wine? You had no alcohol over lunch, so a small one won’t hurt.’ She ran her hand down her thigh, flattening a kink in the material of her floral knee-length skirt and circled her kneecap with her fingers, her gaze still upon him.

Greg’s body reacted – raising his heart rate, generating sweat beneath his collar, despite the air con. ‘And you think me coming into the flat with you is a good idea, do you?’

‘Well, there’s only one way to find out,’ said Nina, opening the door and climbing out of the car.

She sashayed across the forecourt, turned and grinned at him, then disappeared through the slate-grey, equally drab communal front entrance.

Greg sat there, collecting his thoughts for a moment. Then, tucking the card away in his glove compartment alongside the one she’d previously given him in Bristol, he jumped out of the car, looking left and right as he locked it, and followed her inside.

Nick pinged off the sofa, cursing as his foot connected with an upturned two-pin travel adaptor. ‘
Shit!
’ As well as having cramp, he’d bloody speared himself.

He rubbed his calf, easing the pain before his leg seized up completely.

Why was he still fully-clothed and not in bed? And how come it was so friggin’ light outside?

Very slowly, his booze-addled brain started to function, as did the nerve endings in his back, still a mite tender from his sunburn.

He could see Deano standing in the kitchen in his luminous green swimming shorts and matching flip-flops, holding a beer and laughing at him.

‘Afternoon, pisshead!’ he shouted at Nick, raising his bottle of San Miguel. ‘You’ve woken up and gone back to sleep about eight times!’

Nick glanced at his watch.
Ten to five?

He’d lost a whole bloody day!

He reached for his mobile which should have been in his jeans pocket but wasn’t.
Fuck!
He must have dropped it somewhere. Or left it somewhere?

‘You seen my phone, Deano?’ he yelled, pulling off his crumpled England top.

Still laughing, Deano came into the lounge and sat down on one of the hard-backed chairs at their apartment table. ‘Gary’s got it. He nicked it off you last night, started mucking about with it, feeding in your new girlfriend’s address and phone number, probably! Nothing you won’t be able to delete. Gary knows the rules – he also knows how easily he can wind you up.’

‘New girlfriend, my arse!’ Nick crashed back down on the sofa. ‘I didn’t even do anything.’

Deano’s facial expression begged to differ. ‘
Er
 … I wouldn’t go that far, mate. You’d have ended up on the beach with her if I hadn’t stepped in.’

‘You what? I can’t even remember what she looks like.’

Deano shook his head. ‘Are you serious? She was all over you – wanted you to go for a walk, which is when I stopped you. Don’t you remember snogging her when we left the bar? I think you might have even had a little fumble. Although that may have been more
her
than you.’

Nick could feel the air being sucked out of his lungs as various images trickled back to him in hideous technicolour. He had to look away, he felt so guilt-ridden.

All those good intentions on the flight over; his so-called new mature outlook on life, obliterated by allowing himself to be drawn into some stupid drinking contest and ending up so bladdered that he’d risked losing the most precious thing in his life for a five minute feel-up.

What if Deano hadn’t intervened?

Although sure he wouldn’t have cheated on Abi, if sober, how could Nick know for definite, having had that much booze inside him, what might have happened last night if he’d gone off with that woman?

‘Listen, mate, it’s not like you went back to her apartment with her, is it?’ said Deano, seeing Nick’s stricken face. ‘Just forget it. No one’ll grass you up. Rules is rules.’

Nick nodded. ‘Yeah, yeah, I suppose so.’

As big a wanker as Gary was for stitching him up, and as much as Nick wanted to tell him so, he knew the blame for his behaviour lay squarely upon his own shoulders.

‘Kenny’s uncle!’ Rebecca’s cheeks drained of colour. ‘You never mentioned there would be six of us going to this restaurant tonight,’ she said, flustering a little, as the taxi in which they’d travelled back from their shopping trip cruised to a halt beside the hotel steps.

‘Did I not?’ Abi sat there, all wide-eyed innocence.

‘No, you didn’t,’ said Rebecca, paying their fare. ‘I’d assumed you meant it was the four of us.’

‘Anyway, looks like we’ve been traded in for two younger models,’ said Abi, indicating the car park.

Rebecca glanced round to see Alex and Kenny chatting to two brunettes. Both women were clad in tight sportswear, one barely out of her teens, with her hand resting on Alex’s forearm, her friend, meanwhile, fawning over Kenny’s watch.

‘Probably just autograph hunters,’ said Abi.

‘Even so. We don’t want to look like a pair of stalkers, do we?’ Rebecca nudged the back of Abi’s knees with her carrier bags. ‘Let’s get inside,’ she said, raising her sunglasses from her eyes to the top of her head.

‘But it’ll look odd if we don’t say hello. Why don’t we sit on the front steps for a bit. Take the weight off our feet. They’re bound to spot us in a minute.’

Two guests swathed in beach towels mooched past, followed by a group of cheery golfers, wheeling their bags behind them across the gravel.

‘I feel like a saddo perched here,’ said Rebecca, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand as she sat beside Abi on the top step. She’d rarely clashed with the green-eyed monster, not since the early days of her relationship with Greg when she’d very much walked in the shadow of his ex-girlfriend, but seeing Alex laughing and joking with that girl had unsettled her.

‘You okay, hun?’ said Abi, bumping shoulders with her. ‘You seem a bit tetchy.’

‘Do I?’

Abi rested her head against Rebecca’s. ‘I’m not daft. I saw your little face brighten when I told you Alex was coming out tonight. It is okay for you to admit you like him, Bex. You are human! And I know you like him, because when you saw him talking to that girl over there your nose bent so far out of joint, it grazed your earlobe!’

Rebecca laughed into her hand. ‘Oh, dear! Am I that transparent?’

‘Um … on this occasion, yes.’

‘Oh, I’m not disputing he’s nice—’

‘
NICE!
’ Abi sprang away from Rebecca as if someone had wrenched her sideways. ‘He’s bloody gorgeous, girl! How many women in that VIP lounge last night were giving him the eye?’

‘Dozens.’

‘And how did you feel then compared to now?’

‘Are we coasting into scenario territory again?’

‘Bear with me. I have a theory,’ said Abi, palm raised.

‘Okay,’ said Rebecca, conceding that she’d been irrefutably sussed. ‘Oddly enough, I didn’t think anything. I mean, I noticed them trying to get his attention, plus one of the hostesses was quite touchy feely with him, but once the two of us started chatting and having a laugh, they sort of faded into the background, ceased to exist, if you like. And your theory is?’

‘Well … I think, sub-consciously, you’d already started telling yourself that you’d probably never see him again and, despite the connection between you, didn’t feel the attachment to him that you now feel knowing you’ll be seeing him again tonight. If that makes sense?’

‘Scarily so,’ admitted Rebecca. ‘Still, it’s easy to get carried away with the whole escapism vibe when things at home could be rosier, isn’t it? Alex is a lovely, lovely man, I always thought that, even from seeing him on the telly,
but
 …’

Abi eyed her. ‘But what?’

‘Nothing. I’m rambling again.’ Rebecca poked her sandaled feet under her carrier bags away from the sun’s glare. ‘You ask too many questions, Miss Huxley.’

They smiled at each other.

‘Pleased you came here though?’ asked Abi.

‘
Very
. Thank you for inviting me.’

They faced each other and embraced.

‘Is this a private party or can anyone join in?’ cried a familiar voice.

Kenny.

They broke away, not realising that he and Alex had wandered over.

‘How did the shopping go?’ Alex asked, gazing down at Rebecca as Abi jumped up to greet Kenny.

She shielded her eyes with her hand and stared up at him standing there, framed by a sapphire sky, in his dark blue trousers and spotless white golf shirt, the golden hairs on his arms nestling against toned, tanned skin. So masculine, yet so beautiful.

‘Great, thanks,’ she said, appalled that her bottom lip may have actually quivered.

‘Not too many bags, then?’

‘No. Just a few goodies.’

‘Glad you enjoyed it.’

‘Enjoyed what?’ Kenny crashed his hand down on Alex’s shoulder and winked at Rebecca. ‘All right, Bex?’ Then, addressing Alex: ‘Sorry to interrupt, but time’s precious. I said we’d meet these two lovely ladies, here, in the bar at half eight. Oh, and I’m driving so, you, my friend …’ he patted Alex on the head ‘… can have a drink. It’s the least I can do after whipping your arse at golf today.’

‘In your dreams, Millsy,’ said Alex, suggesting they move into the lobby.

Bernard, face void of intrigue, acknowledged the four of them with a respectful smile.

‘So,’ said Alex, encouraging Rebecca into a quiet recess beyond the staircase as Abi teased Kenny about their young admirers in the car park. ‘I hear you’re braving another night with us.’

‘Looks like it,’ she said, his appreciative smile rekindling her flutters. ‘If you’re sure you don’t mind, that is?’

‘Of course not.’ He cupped her elbow, drew her towards him as four suitcase-wheeling Japanese tourists burst from the lift.

Rebecca breathed in as they hurtled past. ‘Not taking any chances, huh?’

‘Not with your track record,’ said Alex, grinning at her.