Peppermint Kiss (17 page)

“Oh no, what are you planning now?” I grumbled, as they led me into the kitchen.

There were a few sheets of paper, some pens, a large saucepan and four glasses of water on the table. I just stared at them, with absolutely no idea what was going on.

“The pens and paper are for us to write down what we wanted to say to Dad today, but didn't feel able to,” Saff explained.

“Or didn't get the chance to, in my case,” Mum grumbled.

“The pan is for us to burn them in, to let them go – is that right, Mum?” said Saff.

Mum nodded.

“And the glasses of water were my idea, in case the fire gets out of hand,” said Grace.

“Good idea,” I told her, “especially with me around.”

They all grinned, remembering the setting-the- bathroom-alight episode.

“So, are you up for it?” asked Saff.

“Okay, fine,” I said. So we all took a bit of paper and a pen and went to find a private corner of the flat to write. The paint was still wet in my chill-out room, so I sat on the bathroom floor and leaned against the bath to do mine.

When we came back together, there was a different atmosphere. The laughing and joking had stopped and we were all quiet and serious.

Mum lit the remains of my jasmine and bergamot candle and said, “Right, who wants to start?”

Unsurprisingly, Saff did.

I was expecting a furious tirade – I think we all were – but instead she spoke in a small, trembling voice. “I can't believe it,” she said simply. “I just can't believe you would do this to us. I keep thinking I'm going to wake up and it will all be a dream, and we'll be back home again, together. I just can't
believe
you could hurt us like this.”

I should have realized before. Under all Saff's bolshiness and bluster she was just really, really hurt. Her trust in Dad had been shattered. She held her paper to the candle and when it blazed she threw it into the pan. Mum and I hugged her while Grace stood by with a glass of water in each hand, just in case.

“Well done, my darling angel,” said Mum, which is what she used to call Saff when she was a little girl.

“Thanks,” Saff half-whispered.

Grace suddenly picked up her paper and started reading then, and we all fell silent. “You really let us down, Dad,” she said, in a sorrowful voice. “I trusted you to always look after us but you didn't and now I don't feel safe any more. I'm scared about everything – the present, the future, if school will be okay, if Rainbow Beauty will be okay, if
we'll
be okay.” She trailed off, dissolving into tears, and for once she let us hug her, just for a moment, before setting light to her paper and throwing it into the pan.

“Your turn, Mum,” said Saff.

Mum giggled a little hysterically. She pulled her bit of paper, well,
bits
of paper, from the pocket of her dress. They were completely covered in her big, loopy handwriting.

“Mum, that's an essay!” Grace teased.

“Think yourself lucky, if I'd had more time it would have been a novel,” she muttered darkly. She took a deep breath and, clutching her words with trembling hands, she began. “How could you keep it from me, everything that was going on?” Pause. Deep breath. “We always tackled things together. Yes, of course I'm hurt about the affair and the business, but things like that aren't the end of the world. Together we could have sorted it out, and saved our family. Or even if we couldn't, we could have separated in a way which gave the girls more time to adjust. The thing that really cuts is that you didn't give me a chance to try and help fix things, you just vanished and left me to pick up the pieces.”

Pause. Two deep breaths.

“When I married you I thought it was for ever. I knew there would be hard times – for richer, for poorer and all that. But when things got tough you just couldn't handle it. What a coward. And the worst thing is, you always said you'd give anyone hell who hurt our girls, but now you've hurt them more than anyone else ever could. Luckily they're strong and sensible and we
will
get through this, but it didn't have to be this way, it really didn't.” She breathed out sharply and screwed up her pages, then torched them with a look of satisfaction.

Everyone else had gone, so that made it my turn.

At first I didn't think I could do it, but when I glanced up to tell them that, their encouraging faces made me feel braver, and I started reading. “I do love you, Dad,” I almost whispered. “I'm sorry I couldn't say it to you today, but I'm just so churned up and angry inside, and I feel like you don't deserve it. I feel sorry for you as well, but not too sorry – you've got a lot of making up to do. Look, I'm trying to feel better about everything, I just need more time.” I glanced up. “Erm, that's it.”

“Well done, Abbie,” said Mum.

There were no tears – I think I'd done all my crying – but it felt good to say the things in my head out loud, and to be heard, even if it wasn't by Dad. At least he had our number now and I had his. I promised myself that when things had calmed down a bit, I'd call him and say some of these things actually
to
him. Maybe some of the angry and hurt bits. Definitely the
I love you
part.

I burned my paper and we all had a big hug, pulling Grace in whether she liked it or not.

When we finally broke apart, Mum said, “Right! Good! Now we're all going to cheer up, because it's a
good
thing that we're moving on with our lives – as much as we can for now, anyway. And that's why…ta daa!” She opened the fridge and revealed all this lovely food.

“Wow, Mum, this is amazing!” I gasped, as Saff began passing it out onto the table.

“Oh, it's nothing, just some little nibbles I put together for the launch,” Mum insisted, as the table filled with plate after plate of aromatic colourful deliciousness. “I thought I should try the combinations out on you lot first – I don't want to go putting our clients off.”

Of course there was no chance of that. Mum's been making canapés for years for her dinner parties and summer cocktail evenings, and she's brilliant at it. She just knew we needed a boost.

There were mini quiches with asparagus and Gruyère, goat's-cheese-and-redcurrant-chutney crostini, and strips of smoked salmon wrapped around cream cheese. She'd filled vol-au-vent cases, some with prawn mousse with shrimps on top, and some with pepperonata, mozzarella and olives. She'd made sweet treats too – rainbow fruit salad sticks made of strawberries, blueberries, papaya and pineapple pieces, with a little pot of vanilla cream to dip them into.

“Can we afford to eat these now, though?” asked Grace, frowning. “Maybe we should save them for Saturday, rather than making a new lot. Every penny has to go into the business, remember?”

Mum grinned. “These didn't come out of our budget. Listen, girls – they can take our house, our car, our possessions, even the shirts off our backs, but they can't take our Nectar points! Turns out I'd saved up more than enough to treat you all, so I took the bus to the Sainsbury's in Paignton.”

So we sat down to the lovely feast, laughing and joking, talking about all our plans and arrangements for the grand opening.

“Oh, and what did Roger and Laura say about our stuff?” Grace asked, through a mouthful of vol-au-vent.

Mum frowned. “Not great news, I'm afraid. By the time they got round there, the bailiffs were already taking all the electrical goods, and the rest of my shoes, and our figurines. But when they'd gone, Roger and Laura went in and cleared out everything else and it's in their garage waiting for us. The main thing is, we didn't lose anything that really matters. We've still got the big scrapbook of pictures you did in primary school, and all the boxes of birthday and Christmas cards. They didn't touch Great-Grandpa Green's war medals and papers, thank goodness, and the family photos weren't taken.”

“And pink rabbit?” I asked. He was only a tatty old pyjama case, but I loved him.

Mum nodded. “Yep, safe and sound. And blue bear,” she added, winking at Grace. Grace couldn't help smiling, even though she'd announced three years ago that she was far too old for blue bear and shoved him in the back of her wardrobe.

“And my hair tongs?” asked Saff anxiously. “
Please
say they left those.”

We all burst out laughing at that.

“What?!” she demanded. “I really love them, okay?”

Saying those things to Dad, even though he couldn't hear us, well, it was like a weight had lifted off our shoulders. As the table glistened with the beautiful, fresh, scrumptious treats, even the air around us felt lighter and more sparkly somehow. It really did feel like a proper new start. Not like we were running away from our old life any more, but like we were running towards a new one.

Marco wasn't speaking to me on Friday at school, which was fine by me, because I wasn't speaking to him either. At least it was the last day of term, so once it was over I wouldn't be forced to look at him all day long. Summer asked what was going on a couple of times, but I just said I didn't want to go into it. I was too busy thinking about the grand opening of Rainbow Beauty, and all the little things we still had to finish off. “Let's just say he had his last chance, and he blew it,” I mumbled, then went all businesslike and marched her off to the library to finish the last few sheets of product labels.

After school, Grace and I hurried back to the shop so we could help put the final bits and pieces in place. So at half six, Grace was giving the floor a sweep and mop and Saff and Mum were arranging the vases of flowers. As I tipped my free sample lip balms into a basket on the reception desk, a knock on the window made all of us look up.

It was Marco.

For a moment I thought about stropping off into the kitchenette and refusing to see him. But I knew we had to sort things out, for Summer and Ben's sakes if nothing else. Because of us fighting, they'd had a rubbish day too. And poor Ben had given up trying to convince Marco that there was nothing going on between us two. So I took a deep breath, tried to stop my legs from shaking and strode out of the shop.

I automatically walked right up close to him, and I had to make myself take a step back. My stomach did its familiar flip as I took in his gorgeousness, but then I got a grip on myself. “Hi,” I mumbled.

“Hi.”

Cue a long, agonizing silence.
He's come to me,
I thought.
He can speak first.

He looked really uncomfortable, his hands shoved into his pockets, swaying from foot to foot. “I, erm, I just thought maybe…I'm guessing you won't want me here tomorrow, so I came to say, you know, erm, good luck and that.”

Right. So no apology then.

“It's cool if you're with Ben,” he said then. “He's a really good bloke. I shouldn't have been an idiot about it. It's not like me and you were together or anything.”

I sighed. Not this again. “Oh my God, how many times? There is
nothing
going on with Ben,” I insisted. “I don't fancy him.
Not
that I have to explain myself to you,” I added, scowling at him.

He gave me a playful look. “So, have you totally gone off me now, then?”

Argh, he was just so full of himself! I was going to tell him to get lost then (or get Saff to come out and say it with wellies) but I remembered how much better I'd felt after being honest about my feelings when we did the burning pot thing. I decided it was time to tell Marco how I really felt about what had happened between us, even if it did make me seem uptight and uncool.

“If you'd actually
looked
instead of going off on one yesterday, you'd have noticed that Ben had his arm round me because I was
upset
,” I said. Marco looked genuinely surprised at that. Still, I pushed on. “And, do you really think I was just setting you up in the cafe? To make you feel stupid like I felt at the gig? Is that what you actually think I'm
like
?”

“Of course not,” he insisted. “I didn't mean that. I wasn't thinking straight. I just felt such an idiot and I didn't know why you'd been so weird with me and then run off, and when I saw you with Ben I just assumed—”

“Well, you were wrong,” I snapped. “Not everything's about
you
, you know.” Then I told him about Dad's call, and my family's reaction, and my major meltdown.

I was half expecting him to make some lame excuse to do a runner then. After all, I probably sounded like I had some serious
issues
. But he just listened, looking really shocked. “But why didn't you tell me about it as soon as I got to the cafe?” he asked. “I was right there in front of you. How come you talked to Ben and not me?”

“Okay, I'm sorry,” I conceded. “I shouldn't have tried to hide being upset. The truth is, I can talk to Ben because he
is
just a mate. But with you, well…” I steeled myself. I knew it was going to be embarrassing to admit this, but it had to be said. “I wanted to impress you. I wanted you to see me as happy and bubbly. I wanted to be the cool girl you think I am, not the scared, broken one who feels like she'll never be properly happy again.”

He blinked at me. “I don't think you're one girl or another girl. I think you're you. But I know what you mean – I wanted to impress you too.”

Well, that annoyed me. “Yeah,
right
. If you're so into me, why did you ask me to the gig then act like I wasn't there?” I demanded.

He looked confused. “What?”

“Oh, come on,” I snapped. “You know what I'm talking about. It's lucky Ben
was
there, and Summer, otherwise I'd've been standing on my own while my so-called
date
flirted with that group of girls.”

He sighed. “Oh God. And you thought… No… I was only talking to them because I wanted to impress you, for you to think I was popular… I realize how lame that sounds now. Oh, jeez, I really have messed this up, haven't I? Honestly, I was just coming over to be with you and you walked out. You were gone for ages, with Ben, and I thought you were playing games with me. Playing us off against each other.”

I sighed. “For goodness' sake, when are you going to realize I'm not
like
that?!”

“I know. I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking straight.” He looked right into my eyes, then glanced away. But I'd seen it. He really was embarrassed, and ashamed. “It's no excuse, but you kind of make my brain go mushy,” he said then. “Well,
more
mushy.”

I thought back to the potassium-chlorate-and-fourteen-gummy-bears disaster. I had to admit I knew what he meant. Still, I wasn't letting him off that easily. “You had loads of chances to speak to me,” I pointed out. “I came over and stood next to you for about
fifteen minutes
, but you just acted like I wasn't there. You didn't even introduce me to the band.”

“I know how it looks, but honestly, I was just about to, but then… I could see they were all wowed by you – you looked so stunning, and well… Declan has a great voice, and Tay's such a talented songwriter. Chaz is just totally cool. How long would it have been before you decided you'd rather be with one of them instead?”

“That's so stupid!” I cried. “How shallow do you think I am? I went there with
you
because I really liked
you
.”

“
Liked
, past tense?” he asked.

I didn't say anything.

He sighed. “Look, everything you've said about me is true. I was so keen to impress you that I've ended up doing the complete opposite. And I've totally misjudged you – more than once. I've been an idiot, I know. But the thing is, I wanted to be with you from the first moment we met in that storm. Right from then, I couldn't think about anyone else. I've never felt like this about anyone before and I didn't know how to handle it. And now I've made a total mess of everything.”

He took my hand. Electricity crackled between us like it did on that first day. It took me right back there. Yes, he'd misjudged me, but I'd got him wrong too. I'd only seen his vain, arrogant façade, and not the tangle of feelings that were hiding underneath.

“Please, Abbie, give me another chance.”

I looked right into his eyes then, and I knew he was telling the truth about how he felt. It was what I'd always wanted. Always hoped for.

But I shook my head.

“I can't,” I told him. The words stuck in my throat but I made myself say them. “I know now that you didn't mean to mess stuff up, and I promise you, I didn't either. But every time we try to get together, it ends in disaster. And there's just so much going on in my life right now that if it went wrong again, well, I don't think I could deal with it.”

I forced myself to pull my hand away.

He was just staring at me – he looked gutted, and I felt awful too, like there was a big rock in my stomach. I didn't think I could bear it, but then I told myself to be strong. I'd had my heart ripped out once by Dad – if Marco did that to me too, I knew I wouldn't be able to handle it. I needed to keep my head and focus on making the business work, for my family's sake.

“I've blown it, haven't I?” he said finally.

“It's not you,” I insisted. “Well, not just you. It's bad timing, mainly. Look, please can we stay friends? I love hanging out with you guys. It was awful today, for all of us. I don't want it to be like that.”

I braced myself, expecting him to tell me where I could put my friendship. I knew how proud he was, and I'd just knocked him back. But, “Okay,” he said. “Friends is okay, I guess.”

And then he just walked away, without saying goodbye. And I felt like my heart had gone with him, but I didn't call him back.

When I got back upstairs, Mum was making a new batch of scrummy canapés for the launch (and this time slapping our hands away if we tried to pinch any). Saff and Grace were piling products into boxes to take downstairs. I said hi and started getting the stuff out to make my final two fresh face masks.

“Well?” Saff demanded. Mum and Grace were giving me eager looks too.

“Well what?” I mumbled. But I knew there was no way they were going to let me get away without telling them what had happened with Marco. In fact, I was amazed they'd managed not to stick their ears up to the front window. I told them almost word for word what we'd said (Grace had insisted on the
exact
detail), then…

“Oh, that's dead romantic!” cried Saff. “Love at first sight, just like Romeo and Juliet.”

“
Dead
romantic is right,” Grace snorted. “Romeo and Juliet both snuffed it.”

Saff glared at her. “You always have to spoil it, don't you?”

“It
is
all a bit Elizabeth Bennett and Mr. Darcy,” said Mum dreamily.

“Aren't they the ones from that old TV series you've watched about a million times?” Saff asked her. “Where that fit guy comes out of the lake in that wet shirt?”

Mum nodded, with a faraway look on her face.

“It was a book first, you idiot,” Grace snapped. “
Pride and Prejudice
? Does that ring any bells? You just did it for GCSE English!”

But Saff didn't snap back. She'd joined Mum in her Mr. Darcy-induced trance.

“Erm, hello?!” I cried. “Didn't
any
of you hear
anything
I just said? We're not
getting
together. I told him it was over, whatever
it
was in the first place. We're just going to be friends.”

“Oh, right,” said Mum, coming to. She put her arm around me. “Are you okay, hon?”

I shrugged. “Yes. No. I don't know.”

Saff looked about four years old then, clutching Grace's arm. “But you will get together in the end, won't you?” she gasped, wide-eyed.

“Get real, Saff,” Grace snapped. “Life's not like a fairy tale.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Mum asked me.

I shook my head. There was nothing left to say, so I just sighed loudly, put on my apron, gloves and attractive hairnet, and got on with measuring out the blueberries.