Mags leans down to kiss Victoria but misses and ends up with her lips pressed against the back of the upholstered bench Victoria and I are sitting on. She pushes herself back up and wipes her lips with the back of her hand. ‘You’re going to be a megastar. You’ll see.’ Smoothing down her vest top, Mags grabs her now-crumpled blouse and handbag and says her goodbyes before weaving her way through the pub.
‘I’ll just go and make sure she gets in a taxi all right,’ Caleb says, hurrying after a wobbly Mags. When it’s just the girls again, Nicky leans in close across the table.
‘I can’t believe they’re here. Do they even live close by?’
‘No,’ I say, cringing. ‘I invited them. They’ve been really helpful with the teashop’s dating service and I think Caleb’s come up with the perfect name. I just thought since we were already going out for a drink, we could get together to celebrate.’ I turn to Victoria. ‘I hope you don’t mind?’
‘Nah, course not.’ Victoria picks up her lager and takes a swig. ‘As long as there’s booze, I’m happy.’
‘I think it’s an amazing idea,’ Nicky says, her eyes travelling to the bar where Neal is chatting with the barman. They laugh about something and Nicky joins in, even though we can’t hear a word of their conversation from over here.
‘So what was that all about with Mags before?’ Neal asks when he returns with a couple of pints.
‘Oh. That,’ I say, watching Victoria out of the corner of my eye. ‘It’s sort of personal.’
‘No, it’s fine.’ Victoria waves her hand. ‘I was kicked out of my band this afternoon. By my boyfriend. Actually, it isn’t fine at all. He’s a shit.’ She takes a sip of lager while I think about patting her knee. In the end, I chicken out and take a sip of my drink instead.
‘You’re in a band?’ Neal asks, shuffling forward in his seat. ‘What do you play?’
‘Was in a band,’ Victoria says and Neal’s cheeks turn a bit pink. ‘I was lead singer, though I’ll obviously need replacing now. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s a new me already.’ Victoria rolls her heavily lined eyes. ‘We wanted to sign up with a manager. He wanted the band, minus me. So they’re going to sign without me.’
‘Which manager?’ Neal asks and winces when Victoria gives Terry’s name. ‘Your band wasn’t Perrie West, was it?’
Victoria rolls her eyes again. ‘Named after the founding members. Apart from me. Nathan said I’d be a Perrie too one day, so no need to add my name. He was probably planning on giving me the elbow all along.’ She gulps back her lager and places the half-empty bottle on the table. ‘How do you know about them? Don’t tell me they’re famous without me already.’
Neal rubs his gingerish beard. ‘I interviewed them yesterday about Terry Sergeant signing them.’
‘Yesterday?’ Victoria roars, mouth and eyes wide. ‘They’d already signed when Nathan told me about it this afternoon?’
Poor Neal looks like he’d love nothing more than to slip under the table and crawl out of the pub on his hands and knees. ‘I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.’
‘No, I’m glad you did.’ Victoria doesn’t look glad. Her lips are pursed and her eyes have a wild look about them. If I were Nathan Perrie, I’d be afraid. Very afraid. ‘At least now I know what a complete weasel my ex is. He acted as though it was killing him to break the news, that if I fought hard enough, he wouldn’t sign without me. But he’d already done it and had left it until the last minute to tell me.’ Victoria drums her fingers on the table. ‘When does your interview go out?’
‘Tomorrow.’
‘Thought so.’ Victoria’s foot is tapping underneath the table. Forget being Nathan Perrie. I’m afraid and I haven’t even crossed her. ‘He left it until the last minute to tell me so I wouldn’t read about it in the paper.’ Victoria thumps her fist down on the table. ‘I can’t believe he’s done this. And the others – I thought they were my friends!’
An oblivious Caleb returns to the table, having put Mags in a cab. ‘I’ve broken up three fights today, been told I’m a waste of space by one of the parents and volunteered to help out at the summer talent show.’ Caleb picks up his pint. ‘I’ve earned this.’
‘You know what?’ Victoria takes a huge swig from her bottle. ‘Me too.’
The mood seems to pick up with Caleb’s arrival, especially when we reveal the name of the dating service to the others. I wish Mags was still here to hear about it, but from her tipsy state, I doubt she’d have recalled it by morning anyway. Nicky and Victoria think it’s a fabulous, quirky name while Neal makes a pretence of claiming his idea of Speed Caking is better.
‘Come on, mate,’ Caleb says with a roll of his eyes. ‘We all know who has the brains around here.’
Neal gives a one-shouldered shrug and drains his pint. ‘I’ll settle for being the better-looking one. Am I right, ladies?’
Caleb holds his hand up, neither of them noticing Nicky nodding furiously behind her cocktail. ‘Don’t answer that. You’ll only offend him and he’ll sulk for the rest of the night.’
‘Dream on,’ Neal says. ‘Who got all the girls at school?’
‘School?’ Caleb scoffs. ‘That was fifteen years ago. And it’s hardly fair when I was with Celine.’
‘You were with Celine since school?’ I must have drunk more than I realised as I find myself voicing my thoughts out loud. Wow. That was a long time. I’d been crushed when my five-year relationship broke down – how must Caleb have felt divorcing his first love?
‘They were fourteen,’ Neal says. ‘He was the first of us to settle down. Most of us still haven’t caught up.’
‘So you’re single?’ Nicky purrs, leaning towards Neal across the table to flash a bit of cleavage.
‘Neal doesn’t do relationships,’ Caleb tells her. ‘He finds them inconvenient.’
I see Nicky’s face fall as she leans back in her seat, but luckily the others don’t notice.
‘It’s more like the job’s inconvenient when it comes to forming relationships,’ Neal says. ‘Long hours, stress. I barely have time to look after myself at times, never mind paying attention to someone else. Just ask my cat, Kitty. The poor girl’s trying to teach herself how to open the tins of cat food.’
‘You have a cat called Kitty?’ Nicky asks and I can tell she’s dying to laugh but is trying to keep it in so she doesn’t offend the bloke she fancies like mad.
Neal holds his hands up. ‘To be fair, I let Cara name her and she was only two at the time.’
‘Rookie mistake, mate,’ Caleb says with a grin. ‘She called our three goldfish Fish, Bigger Fish and Other Fish.’
‘So when was your last relationship?’ Nicky asks, her boobs being thrust back into action as she leans across the table again.
‘Probably when we were at school,’ Caleb says.
‘Ah, Jude McMahan.’ Neal sighs wistfully. ‘Three weeks with her was worth a lifetime. Is Celine still in contact with her?’
Caleb nods. ‘Married, four kids, hates me with a passion.’
I can’t imagine anyone hating Caleb, and certainly not with a passion. Granted, I don’t know him that well, but from what I’ve seen so far he seems like a decent bloke. Birdie dotes on him and I’ve seen the way Cara gazes at him with utter adoration.
‘Is that really your latest relationship?’ Nicky asks Neal.
‘And longest,’ Caleb adds.
‘He’s exaggerating,’ Neal says, standing up. ‘I’ve had plenty of relationships – longer relationships – since. Though none of them kissed quite like Jude McMahan. Is she happily married then?’ Neal grins down at Caleb.
‘She married a mega-rich entrepreneur. He’s an idiot who cheats on her whenever possible but she seems happy with the arrangement.’
‘Mega bucks will do that,’ Neal says. ‘Everyone ready for another round?’
‘Let me.’ I did invite them to join us, after all. I grab my bag and inch my way around the table. ‘Same ag
ain?’
‘I’ll give you a hand,’ Caleb offers so we make our way to the bar together. I feel my cheeks growing uncomfortably hot as we wait for the barman to finish serving the young couple I saw walk in earlier.
‘Your lot have livened this place up,’ one of the blokes sitting at the bar says, glancing over his shoulder at Nicky, who is up and dancing to the jukebox again. The two of them – the balding one and the one with a full head of hair – are both working their way through pints of bitter.
The balding one chuckles. ‘It doesn’t take much to liven this place up, to be fair.’
His mate nods. ‘That’s true. The place is dead unless there’s a pool match on.’ He picks up his pint and drains it. ‘Anyway, I’d better get going. Hopefully we’ll see you in here more often.’ His mate follows suit and, with a raised hand, they both shuffle away, leaving Caleb and I alone at our end of the bar. The teasing camaraderie of a few moments ago seems to have dried up and I feel awkward as I shuffle through my brain for a conversation starter. Any conversation starter.
‘So you and Celine got together at school?’ Why, why, WHY did I ask this? Would I appreciate a near stranger bringing up my relationship with Joel? Hell no. I’m an idiot. An unthinking, fumbling-through-life idiot.
‘It was the Year Ten Christmas disco,’ Caleb says. Thankfully he doesn’t look too put out about my big-mouth intrusion. ‘I can’t bear to listen to Westlife’s “I Have A Dream” any more. It was the first song we danced to.’
‘Uh-oh.’ I glance towards the jukebox, which is still working its way through Mags and Nicky’s selections. ‘How do you cancel a song?’
Caleb follows my gaze. ‘You haven’t …?’
‘No, just kidding,’ I say, my voice small and weak. Why, why, WHY did I think it was appropriate to joke about something like this? I shouldn’t be allowed out in public after dark. I have the social skills of an amoeba. Luckily, Caleb starts to laugh, swiping his hand across his forehead.
‘Phew! For a moment there, I thought I was about to make a scene by crying into my pint. That would be embarrassing.’
‘As embarrassing as dancing alone to Wham?’ I nod towards Nicky, who is putting on a one-woman show for Neal and Victoria (though I doubt any of this performance is for Victoria’s benefit).
‘Oh.’ Caleb scrunches up his nose in an adorable, going-to-make-me-swoon-in-the-middle-of-the-pub sort of way. ‘Maybe not.’
‘Maybe I should take her home.’ Nicky won’t thank me tonight for dragging her out of the pub, but once she’s sobered up and realises she’s repeatedly thrust her crotch in Neal’s direction in time to George Michael’s lyrics, she’ll be on her knees with gratitude and thanking the Lord for our friendship.
‘Stay for one more drink,’ Caleb says. ‘The barman’s on his way now so it’d be rude not to.’
I order two pints, a bottle of lager and a couple of mocktails (though I won’t let on to Nicky that there is no alcohol involved) and we take them back to the table. Nicky has, thankfully, dropped back into her seat by now.
‘I’m going to get going after this one,’ Victoria says, lifting her bottle to her lips. ‘If I drink any more, I’ll be tempted to phone Nathan and lure him back to my sister’s to either seduce him or strangle him. I’m not sure which is worse.’
‘I’ll share a cab with you,’ Neal offers, but Victoria shakes her head.
‘My sister only lives a few minutes’ walk away.’
‘Then I’ll walk with you,’ Neal says. ‘Make sure you get there safely.’
I sneak a peek at Nicky. She looks torn between wanting to swoon at Neal’s gentlemanly tendencies and wanting to scratch Victoria’s eyes out. I prepare myself to leap between them if I need to.
‘We should do this again,’ Caleb says. ‘I don’t usually venture out on a school night but it’s been fun.’
I don’t usually venture out, full stop, but Caleb’s right. It has been fun. I’d forgotten how quickly the stresses of life filter away when you’re in the pub with your friends and a drink or two. I don’t want this to be it. I’m greedy for more nights out, to be able to let go and have a laugh. To feel like the old Maddie again.
‘We should get together to toast the success of The Sweetest Kiss in a couple of weeks,’ I suggest, crossing my fingers under the table.
‘Definitely,’ Caleb says, lifting his pint. ‘It’s a date.’
Chapter Nineteen
Nicky isn’t impressed when Neal and Victoria leave together, but she hides it pretty well.
Okay, that’s a lie. Nicky behaves like a toddler (although I’ve never actually seen an inebriated toddler, thankfully) and she sulks all the way back to her place, her arms folded tightly across her chest and permanently pouting so that she looks like a life-sized Instagram selfie. Nicky still lives at home with her parents, but I’m hoping we can sneak her inside without anyone noticing. Nicky’s been silent during the taxi ride over so I’m pretty confident we can do this.
‘Ready?’ I whisper as the taxi trundles away after dropping us outside the house. Caleb and I are either side of Nicky, ready to guide her towards the gate. She isn’t actually so drunk she’s unable to walk, but I think she needs a bit of encouragement. She’d become so attached to the taxi’s window as she’d gazed balefully out of it during the drive home that I’d had to wrench her out onto the pavement. Nicky has wandered into maudlin territory, which is far worse – and far more debilitating – than being wasted.
‘Why are we whispering?’ Caleb whispers. He hasn’t met Nicky’s mother, otherwise he wouldn’t have had to ask. Hopefully he’ll leave none the wiser if we pull this off.
Taking a deep breath, I set off up the path, cringing as the gate creaks loudly when I swing it open. I’ve already rummaged in Nicky’s handbag and am holding her set of keys aloft, ready to attack the lock and bundle Nicky inside.
‘Dear Lord!’ I don’t get the key anywhere near the lock as the door is wrenched open and Nicky’s mum stands before us, hands on hips, lips pursed. ‘What is going on here, Nicole?’ The eyes before us narrow to eerie slits. ‘Are you … drunk?’ The last word is hissed. The lips re-purse. I think I’ve done a little wee.
‘No, Mama. I’m fine.’ Nicky, who moments earlier was soft-kneed and slouching, stands up straight and pushes her shoulders back. ‘We were just messing around.’
‘Messing around?’ Nicky’s mum gives a hoot. ‘You need to stop this messing around. You are twenty-nine years old. Do you know what I was doing when I was twenty-nine years old?’
‘You had a husband, three babies and a mortgage,’ Nicky says with the tone of voice that suggests she’s had this conversation several times over.
‘That’s right.’ Nicky’s mum gives a nod of her head. ‘And I didn’t get any of that by fooling around.’
‘She got the babies by fooling around,’ Nicky says out of the corner of her mouth. Luckily, her mum doesn’t hear otherwise I’m sure she’d be on the receiving end of a clip around the ear. Beverley Vickery is definitely the type.
‘Inside,’ Nicky’s mum orders, with a pointing finger for emphasis. ‘All of you.’
‘Actually, Mrs Vickery, we were only dropping Nicky off,’ I say. I pass Nicky’s keys to her before she forges forward with carefully placed steps.
‘No, no, no.’ Nicky’s mum shakes her head. ‘You’ll come inside and have a cup of tea. I insist.’
I’ve met Beverley several times; she has her nails done at the salon every other week and sometimes pops into the teashop for an additional treat. She’s declared that my lemon drizzle is the most delicious cake she has ever tasted and has only been complimentary about my other baked goods, but I still wouldn’t like to cross the woman. She can be jovial but you know she can switch to fierce in a millisecond.
‘Okay.’ I flash Caleb an apologetic look before I follow Nicky and her mum inside the house, slipping off my shoes in the hallway. Caleb follows, dutifully removing his shoes before we move into the
living room, where we sit as instructed by Beverley.
‘Sorry about this,’ I say to Caleb once Beverley tootles off to the kitchen to put the kettle on. I turn to Nicky, who’s wriggling her newly freed toes to make sure the blood flows back after the killer heels she’s endured all evening. ‘What was that all about out there? One minute you’re about to keel over drunk, the next you’re as sober as a nun.’
Nicky gives her toes one last wriggle. ‘I’ve been perfecting the art of appearing sober while being completely sloshed in front of my mum since I was fifteen.’
‘So you are drunk?’ I ask and Nicky shrugs.
‘Who knows? I’ve got so good at it, I’ve started to convince myself I’m sober even when I’m not.’
Beverley returns with a tea tray, complete with a plate of tiny jewel-coloured macarons.
‘They aren’t home-baked like yours,’ she says with a frown. ‘But they’re pretty good. Do you take milk and sugar?’
‘Just milk, please.’ I take a mini turquoise macaron and pop it into my mouth. It’s delicious.
‘And your boyfriend?’ To my horror, Beverley turns to Caleb but, tiny as the macarons are, I can’t speak with food in my mouth, fearing the recriminations if I did. Beverley – if you haven’t already guessed – terrifies me. ‘I’m sorry, I haven’t introduced myself. I’m Beverley Vickery, Nicole’s mother.’
‘Caleb McIntosh.’ Caleb takes Beverley’s proffered hand and gives it a polite shake.
I chew furiously and swallow with an audible gulp. ‘He’s not my boyfriend,’ I blurt out as quickly as I can.
‘Oh?’ Beverley’s eyebrows inch up her forehead. She turns to her daughter, who is working her way through the plate of macarons. ‘Is there something you’d like to tell me, Nicole?’
‘He isn’t my boyfriend either,’ Nicky says.
‘Chance would be a fine thing,’ Beverley mutters before she returns to the matter of the tea. We drink up quickly so that we can make our escape, but we’re not quick enough for Beverley Vickery. Poor Caleb is grilled between scalding sips, revealing pretty much his whole life story as Beverley quizzes him relentlessly. Caleb has a sister, who lives in Devon with her husband and three dogs (no children, yet) and a brother who likes to travel (no children either). He tells Beverley about his job as a teaching assistant, though it turns out it wasn’t his dream career.
The Little Teashop of Broken Hearts Page 13
