Welcome to My World (29 page)

‘I don’t think the local Tories are likely to be knocking on your door during their next recruitment drive,’ Alf grinned toothlessly.

‘I’ll drink to that!’ Bill raised his glass and the Rose & Slug’s regulars joined in the toast.

Viv pulled up an old wicker armchair by Harri’s side, her glass considerably fuller than before. ‘So has Al said anything to you about his dates?’

‘Not really. He just texts me “Next!” whenever he wants another number.’

‘Ooh, that son of mine,’ sighed Viv. ‘No wonder I have so many grey hairs.’

‘Look, I’m having dinner at his on Wednesday night, so I’ll see what I can find out for you.’

Viv instantly brightened. ‘That would be fantastic, darling!’

‘. . . Honestly, H, the markets in Port Louise are something else. The colours are phenomenal, you know – piles of spices, freshly picked fruit like mangoes, papaya and pineapples, and bolts of exquisitely hand-printed fabrics where every pattern tells a story. And the
smells
are amazing! Not just cinnamon, ginger and turmeric, but all round the edges of the market there are these little food stalls selling chapattis, deep-fried prawns and noodles.’

Harri took a mouthful of rich Beef Daube, tasting the bay, rosemary, thyme and garlic swirling together across her palate. She looked at the photo of Alex standing with a smiling stall-holder by a stack of woven baskets in the middle of a busy market. ‘Mauritius,’ she said, her mind alive with images of turquoise seas lapping against palm-fringed white sandy beaches, fields of sugar cane and the full moon rising behind volcanic mountains.

‘I had some of my happiest times there, you know,’ Alex said wistfully. ‘I spent three weeks there and then two weeks in the Seychelles. There was quite a difference between the two. But I have to admit that Mauritius got my vote in the end. I just loved the mix of cultures – Chinese, Creole and Indian, all living and working together.’

‘It sounds wonderful.’ Harri decided that now was the best time to broach the subject of his recent dates. ‘So, how are you doing with the “Free to a Good Home” ladies?’

Alex picked up his empty plate and took it into the kitchen. ‘Fine. I think.’ He unscrewed a stove-top espresso pot and began to fill it with water. ‘Coffee?’

‘Thanks. What do you mean, you “think”?’

‘Well, they’re all much of a muchness, you know? All beautiful, all interesting – the dates are fun and I’m enjoying myself.’

‘But none of them is worth taking any further?’

Alex’s eyes narrowed. ‘My mother put you up to this, didn’t she?’

Harri knew that her innocent expression was about as convincing as a politician’s apology. ‘I was just interested, that’s all.’

‘Hmm. Don’t give up the day job. Espionage doesn’t suit you.’

‘So we keep going?’

Alex nodded. ‘Definitely. Business as usual, O Wise Matchmaker.’

‘Hardly a matchmaker, Al. Not if my recent success rate is anything to go by.’

‘Well, maybe the next date you recommend will change my life, eh? And talking of life-changing occurrences,’ he grinned, taking two espresso cups from a cupboard, ‘what’s the latest on romantic Scotland?’

‘Rob’s sorted it all.’

The espresso pot began to steam and bubble loudly. ‘That’s good then.’

‘It is,’ Harri said happily.

Alex brought the coffee cups over to the lounge area and Harri joined him on the sofa. ‘I’m really pleased he’s making an effort for you, H. It’s about time.’

‘Absolutely.’

‘And you’re not bothered that he organised it without asking you?’

Harri frowned. ‘No. Should I be?’

Suddenly looking uncertain, he rubbed the back of his neck. ‘I don’t want to put a dampener on things, it’s just that Rob confuses me. How come he knows how much you want to travel yet it’s always him making the decisions about where you go together? Surely you’re the expert?’

This was unexpected, and unwelcome, especially considering how much Rob was doing for her. She could feel her hackles rising. ‘But it
should
come from him, shouldn’t it? It means so much more to not be the one organising everything in our relationship.’

‘But why?’

‘Because it means he’s doing something he
wants
to do and not something he feels obliged to.’

‘So what about what
you
want?’ He lowered his voice and stared straight into her eyes. ‘What about Venice?’

This was too far, even for Alex. Harri stiffened. ‘What about it?’

‘You are besotted with the place. Mum says you have it on your screensaver at work. And Rosemary told me about that old postcard you have—’

Incensed, Harri rose to her feet, instantly feeling stupid for doing so. ‘Nobody is meant to know about that!’

‘Look, H, relax, OK? She only told me because she thought I might have been there and could tell you more about it.’

‘And when exactly were you talking to my aunt?’

‘Yesterday, actually. She came into Wātea for lunch. She just cares about you, mate.’

Harri crossed her arms. ‘Well, I’m fine.
We’re
fine. And Scotland is wonderful.’

‘H, sit down. I’m sorry.’

Though part of her wanted to walk out right there and then, Harri knew she was overreacting and the sensible side of her compelled her to stay. Slowly, she resumed her seat. ‘I’m sorry, but you should give Rob a break. He’s doing so much for me – for both of us. And I’m proud of him.’

Just then, the door phone buzzed. Alex rose and patted her knee as he did so. ‘Then that’s all that matters.’

Harri watched him walk over to the phone, willing the unease in her stomach to leave. Why were Viv and Auntie Rosemary talking about her behind her back, and to Alex of all people? It didn’t make sense.

‘Hey, Jack! I’ll come down.’ Alex turned to Harri. ‘Jack’s at the door. Dating emergency – he’s making dinner for a girl he’s seeing but he forgot dessert. Good job I have a banoffee pie in the fridge downstairs, eh?’

He disappeared down the stairs and Harri took the empty espresso cups into the kitchen. She had just made a start on loading the dishwasher when Alex called up, ‘Harri, could you bring the cardboard box by the coffee table down here, please?’

‘OK.’ She found the large box where he said it would be and headed downstairs.

Jack and Alex were standing in the work kitchen when she arrived. Harri liked Jack Stevens immensely, even though he was one of the worst culprits amongst Alex’s mates for winding Rob’s friends up. A graphic designer with crazy, spiked hair and a wicked sense of humour, Jack was effortlessly unique in everything from his eclectic fashion sense and ever-changing hair colour (tonight, white-blond) to the much-loved, Union Jack roofed, classic Mini Cooper he drove, which, his mates often quipped, he cared more about than any of the constant stream of women he dated.

‘Hey, Harri,’ Jack smiled, his dark blue eyes full of mischief as usual. ‘Wasn’t expecting to see you here.’

‘Hi, Jack.’ She handed him the box. ‘I only come for the food and travel stories.’

‘Research, eh?’

‘You could say that.’

‘Cool. Hey, thanks for taking this in for me, man. Don’t know what it is with Parcelforce and my address. The two just don’t seem to be mutually compatible.’

‘No worries,’ Alex smiled. ‘Can’t have Mabel going without rear brake cylinders and circlips now, can we? Thanks, H.’

‘You’re welcome.’ Sensing that further ‘bloke conversation’ was imminent, Harri excused herself and headed back upstairs. After putting the dishwasher on, she checked her mobile for messages. A text from Rob flashed up on the screen:

Harri stared at the words, emotion welling up in her throat. There had been noticeably less mention of Preston or Rob’s job during the past couple of months and she had begun to entertain the hope that its importance might be waning. Her vulnerability still keen after the recent exchange with Alex, the last thing she needed was the re-emergence of Rob’s obsession with work. With Alex still happily chatting downstairs, she decided to cut the evening short and go home to a long soak in the bath, followed by a classic old movie romance to lose herself in.

Gathering her things together, she started to make her way down the winding staircase, but the mention of her name made her stop halfway.

‘Harri looks well,’ Jack was saying.

‘Does she?’

‘She always does, man. You two certainly looked cosy tonight.’

Harri put a hand over her mouth to muffle her giggle. Typical Jack, stirring as usual. He was an
impossible
wind-up merchant at the best of times and loved ribbing Alex the most.

She heard Alex laugh. ‘We did not.’

‘Come on, Al. You mean to tell me you’ve never looked at H and considered it? That red hair of hers, not to mention those eyes . . . Amy Adams
in your flat . . .
’

Harri rolled her eyes. Not
that
one again. ‘She’s just a mate, Jack. You know that.’

‘Uh-huh . . . Still, beats me why you’re bothering with all those dates when you have something like
that
for dinner.’

‘Mate, be serious.’

Jack’s laugh rang around the tiled walls of the work kitchen. ‘You are too easy to wind up, man! Your face!’

‘Very funny, Mr Comedy Genius. Harri’s a really good friend and yeah, she’s attractive, but she’s
so
not my type. I mean, look at her – she spends her whole life sorting out other people’s holidays but she’s never been out of the country, as far as I know. Whoever heard of a travel agent that’s never travelled anywhere? I mean, she comes here to learn about the world she’s too scared to experience for herself. Trust me, I’m just taking pity on her, that’s all.’

Jack laughed again. ‘Harsh. So you’re doing your bit for charity, huh?’

‘Yeah – yeah, exactly.’

Hidden in the shadow of the stairwell, Harri felt her legs shaking as her pulse rate shot up. Of all the people in Stone Yardley that could have made this observation about her life, Alex was the last one she’d expected. To hear him mocking her – with such apparent ease – sent daggers flying at her heart.
How could he say that?

‘Well, I still think you’re protesting too much. Right, I’d better get back – my date will think I’ve abandoned her. Thanks for the pie, Al. You might just have saved my life.’

Harri heard the back door open and Alex saying goodbye. Panicking, she quickly ran back upstairs, grabbed a film magazine on the sofa and flicked quickly through it, just as Alex walked back in.

‘Sorry about that,’ he said, his face a little flushed – although it was anyone’s guess whether this was due to the run up the stairs or the exchange of words he had just shared with Jack. ‘You know Jack, always taking the mick.’

‘Hmm.’ Harri was struggling to hold back her anger and hurt, but wasn’t about to let Alex see that. She was pretty sure that he would deny it if confronted and, besides, if that was what he really thought of her she didn’t want him pretending otherwise just because he had been found out. She just needed to leave – quickly. ‘Anyway, I’ve got quite a bit of stuff to do at home, so I think I’ll make a move.’

Alex was a little taken aback by this. ‘Really? Are you sure? I thought we could check out that new travel show I recorded last week.’

‘Tempting, but no.’
Wouldn’t want to put you to any trouble, Alex
. ‘But let me know if it’s worth watching, OK?’

‘Right – um – cool.’ He was watching her carefully as she stood and walked past him towards the stairs. ‘I’ll – see you out then.’

They walked downstairs and through the kitchen, into the darkened coffee lounge. Harri could hear Alex breathing behind her and her desire to be out of his presence intensified. She watched while he unbolted the door and turned to smile at him. ‘Thanks for dinner.’

He stepped forward hesitantly and they shared an awkward half-hug. ‘So, you’ll let me have the next number tomorrow? Business as usual and all that?’

Harri nodded as a thought appeared in her mind, sparkling dangerously. ‘Certainly will. ’Night then.’

Released at last, she walked quickly away from Wātea, aware that Alex was watching her leave. Tears already forming in her eyes, she rounded the corner to Stone Yardley’s small car park, got into her car and shut the door, just in time for the flood to begin. Tears falling, she rested her arms on the steering wheel and dropped her forehead against them, feeling the car swaying slightly as sobs rocked her body.
How dare he say something like that?
And the casual way he had written her off. She had never thought of him as two-faced before, yet this revelation had presented an Alex she didn’t know. Suddenly it seemed as if the people she cared most about were deserting her in one way or another: first Stella, then Rob and now Alex. Was it true that he thought of her only as some pathetic charity case? It was too much, especially considering all she had done for him. It just wasn’t
fair
. Wiping her face with her coat sleeve, she started the engine and pulled out of the car park. As she drove through the darkening streets, her hurt began to metamorphose into something entirely different: an anger more scathing than any she had felt before, fuelling a new desire inside her. Revenge. The darkly compulsive thought in her mind was now formulating into a plan with frightening alacrity. All the way home it grew, making more and more sense the nearer she drove to her cottage and, by the time she reached her front door, it was fully formed.

Pausing to stroke a very pleasantly surprised Ron Howard as he wound around her legs, she kneeled down and retrieved a box file from underneath the coffee table. Looking at the white sticker on the front, she opened the file and smiled as she took out an overly scented letter.

‘Well, hello Not Likelies,’ she said. ‘My friend Alex needs a date to remember, so tonight’s your lucky night. And the winner is . . .’ she held it up in front of her like a golden envelope at the Oscars, the prospect of revenge now intoxicating in its appeal, ‘. . . Miss Chelsea Buckden.’