by Jill Mansell
Didi tilted her face towards her. ‘Thinking about what?’
‘I just said it because I knew you had the next couple of days off work, but you and Shay’ll be back together again by tomorrow.’ Layla tossed a Malteser up into the air and tried to catch it in her mouth. ‘No worries. Bum, missed.’
Didi watched her launch another Malteser; this time it hit her in the eye, causing Layla to say indignantly, ‘Ow, that hurt,’ as if the Malteser had done it on purpose.
Didi thought about those friends who were more than happy to go out with you when they were single, yet the moment they found themselves a boyfriend you wouldn’t see them for dust. It was selfish and infuriating, and she’d always made a point of trying not to be the kind of person who did that.
Which meant she wasn’t about to start now. Layla was her best friend, they both had the weekend free, and Shay was the one who’d been unreasonable. A couple of days apart would do them both some good. Didi picked up a Malteser that had bounced off Layla’s shoulder and landed on the glass-topped garden table, and popped it into her own mouth. ‘If you want to go, let’s go.’
‘Really?’ Layla jackknifed upright, scattering Maltesers in all directions. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Sure I’m sure. It’ll be great. We’ll have a laugh, a proper girls’ weekend together.’
‘Hooray!’ Layla waved her arms in the air.
‘And don’t let me forget to take a tape recorder.’
‘Why?’
Didi grinned. ‘I’m going to record everything you say in your sleep.’
And it had been great, a properly raucous girls’ weekend filled with laughter, fun and wild dancing. The weather had stayed clear, an unidentified rodent had stealthily entered their tent on the first night and bitten a hole in their shared air mattress, and Layla had been captured on tape at four in the morning muttering, ‘No way, I can’t get married to a boa constrictor.’ Which meant every time they saw a likely-looking boy, the rest of them would murmur, ‘Well hello, Mr Boa Constrictor . . .’
When the festival drew to a close on Sunday evening, they headed back up the motorway happy, sunburned and exhausted. Didi had missed Shay like crazy, but hopefully the weekend apart had done them both good. She couldn’t wait to see him again.
Except it hadn’t been a weekend apart. Arriving home, she’d casually asked if there’d been any calls for her. There hadn’t, so she’d taken a long shower and had an early night. Finally, after finishing work on Monday evening and inwardly hating the fact that she was the one making the first move, she made her way over to Hillcrest. She found the house securely locked up. No one answered the door and it felt empty.
The next day, one of her school friends told her he’d seen Shay at the train station on Saturday with a tightly packed haversack at his feet. When he’d stopped to chat, Shay had told him he was leaving Elliscombe in search of work. When their friend had asked him about Didi, he’d replied that she wouldn’t miss him, that their relationship was over.
As the days and then the weeks passed, it slowly sank in that he hadn’t been bluffing.
He really had gone.
Chapter 19
Now, thirteen years later, all the old feelings – of regret, dismay and disbelief – were as fresh as ever in her mind. Her first love had ended in desperate heartbreak and it had been her own fault.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said.
‘I know.’ Shay nodded.
The crime had never been solved; Red Mason had continued to maintain that it hadn’t been him, but plenty of people nevertheless assumed he’d been the one behind the burglary.
‘And I don’t blame you for being so angry with me.’ She wasn’t about to stir up the argument about her deep conviction that he’d been hiding something. ‘I should have trusted you.’
Shay nodded. ‘I overreacted, I know that now. Growing up, I loved my mum so much, I thought she’d always be there for me. Then she got ill, and I know it’s completely illogical, but when she died I suppose I felt . . . abandoned. So after that it was just me and Dad, and I loved him but he kept leaving me too. I mean, I coped, because what else could I do? And I got used to putting on a brave face, but deep down I guess I felt let down every time it happened.’ He paused, studying his hands. ‘It grew easier as I got older, though. And all the people who said I wouldn’t be able to cope, that I’d end up going the same way as my father . . . well, I really enjoyed proving them wrong. So that was great. And the better I did at school, the happier I was. Then you came along and that was pretty good too.’ He smiled briefly and met her gaze. ‘OK, maybe better than good. You made life pretty much perfect.’
Perfect. Didi had to look away. She wasn’t going to cry, she mustn’t cry, but the tightening was there in her throat.
‘Then it happened,’ Shay continued, ‘and that was it, all of a sudden everything changed. The people who’d decided I was an OK guy after all were no longer quite so sure. They thought maybe I’d been playing a good game, a clever game, just to win them over. Even if they didn’t come out and say it, I knew what they were thinking. And then there were the ones who did come out and say it. Like your father.’ He took a slow breath. ‘What with everything going on, it was a bit of a nightmare. I was OK, though; it might be grim, but I knew I could get through it, because at least I had you on my side.’
‘Oh God.’ Didi’s heart ached for the eighteen-year-old boy she’d loved.
‘Discovering you had your doubts about me too, that was what did it. All of a sudden I realised you didn’t completely trust me after all. I suppose it felt like the final kick in the teeth. First Mum, then Dad. And now this.’
He didn’t need to say any more. The silence was enough.
‘So you decided to leave me before I could leave you,’ said Didi.
Shay nodded. ‘I couldn’t deal with the idea of it happening again.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Hey, don’t. It was a messy situation. We were young,’ he reminded her.
‘And now we’re old.’ Well, old-ish.
‘We’ve both changed. We’re not the same people now as we were then. You’ve moved on and so have I.’
It was a statement rather than a question. Didi glanced down at her engagement ring, glittering in the reflected light of the table lamp. Aaron was her future now. Shay might have come back into her life, but he was a part of her past. Just because her thoughts and dreams were getting distracted by his return didn’t mean they meant anything. It was like spending all day looking forward to a roast dinner, then finally sitting down to eat it . . . and all of a sudden being distracted by the sight of someone tucking into perfect golden fish and chips.
Seriously, though, what would you do? You wouldn’t tip your roast dinner into the nearest bin, would you? No, of course not, you’d get on and eat it and bloody well like it.
In the bathroom, Didi checked herself out in the mirror above the sink. She splashed her face with cold water and blotted it dry. The trick was to get a grip and keep her emotions under control; talking about the past had swirled them all up like wading through a muddy pond, turning clear water opaque.
Back in the sitting room, she said, ‘Come on then, fair’s fair. You’ve seen my exes, now it’s your turn to show me yours.’
Which ended up doing the trick in more ways than one, because her attention was diverted from the traumatic break-up of thirteen years ago, and in addition, studying the photos reminded her of the calibre of girlfriend Shay had become accustomed to since then.
Actually it was a bit of a sobering experience, what with them being so incredible to look at. Didi had always been happy enough with her own appearance; she liked the fact that her eyes were hazel, her lashes were long and her nose was OK. Her mouth might be a bit wide and a couple of teeth were crooked, but didn’t that add character? Her body was good enough, too; her boobs were on the small side, as bitchy Estelle at university had so enjoyed pointing out, but at least they didn’t get
in the way or give her chronic backache. Plus there was a jagged scar down her left calf and one of her toes was bent sideways, having never recovered from being broken when she’d jumped out of a window for a dare.
But overall she’d never wasted time wishing she could be taller, thinner and more like the perfect people on Instagram. Clothes were clothes, make-up was fun but not essential, and her hair was a slave to humidity, but wasn’t that the case with most hair? At least she had plenty of it.
Shay’s girlfriends, however, were in another league entirely, and unlike those Instagram photos you just knew had been filtered to death before being posted, these were in their natural state. And the girls were all the more stunning for it.
‘That’s Cara.’ Shay indicated a willowy blonde in cut-off shorts and a bright blue bikini top, her long hair shimmering like a waterfall down to the small of her back. ‘We went out together for six months.’
‘She’s so beautiful. What does she do?’ Hopefully something that proved she was a complete airhead.
‘Barrister.’
‘Right.’ Of course she was. Didi nodded politely and waited until he reached the next one, who looked like Thandie Newton only more flawless. ‘How about her?’
‘Jess? She’s an orthopaedic surgeon.’
Fuck.
‘How long were you seeing each other?’
‘Three, four months? She’s volunteering in a hospital in Syria now.’
‘Is that why you broke up?’
‘Kind of. Well, not really. It just ran its course.’ Shay scooted through more photos. ‘And this was my last girlfriend.’
‘Rebecca.’ Didi said it without thinking, then wished she hadn’t.
‘That’s right. Well remembered.’
‘In this job you need to have a good memory for names.’ She studied the photo of the gorgeous brunette with possibly the world’s most spectacular bone structure. ‘You met her in a bank, then she waited for you to come outside and asked you out on a date. Don’t tell me, she’s a world-famous research scientist.’
‘Primary school teacher actually.’ Shay sounded amused. ‘But good guess.’
‘She likes spreadsheets. Which I still don’t think is a bad thing.’
‘They’re fine, within reason.’ He shrugged, then said drily, ‘But keeping a colour-coded Excel spreadsheet of every item of clothing you own is a bit excessive.’
‘Maybe a tiny bit,’ Didi conceded.
‘She also used them to keep track of what every online horoscope was telling her about her upcoming love life.’
Didi laughed. ‘OK, you win. Well, fingers crossed you’ll manage to find some half-decent girlfriend one day. I mean, someone a damn sight better than this bunch of scuzzy losers.’
‘Let’s hope so.’ Shay was doing that enigmatic half-smile again, the one that caused her stomach to do a dolphin dive. Through the open window they heard a rousing off-key chorus of ‘Happy Birthday to You’ being sung by a group of guests outside on the terrace. As they listened – ‘Happy BIRTHday, dear Denzil’ – Didi glanced across at Shay and found herself picturing him naked. The next moment, as if someone had telepathically intercepted her thoughts and sprung into action, his phone lit up and the name of yet another female appeared on the screen.
Sophia.
She pointed to the phone as it rang on. ‘Aren’t you going to answer it?’
‘I’ll call her back.’
Meaning once he was alone. Didi finished her drink. ‘I need to head off anyway.’
‘You don’t have to go.’
Oh I think I do. If only you knew what’s been going on in my head.
His phone stopped ringing. Aloud, she said, ‘No, I must. I’ll leave you in peace. Thanks again, though, for giving up your suite. You’ve made the anniversary couple incredibly happy.’
‘Well I hope it’s made you happy too,’ said Shay.
‘It really has.’ Didi was on her feet now, retreating to the door, her knees like jelly.
‘I’m glad about that. Anyway, it’s not too much of a hardship.’
‘Seeing as you get to sp—’ She froze, stopping the flippant comment in its tracks. Oh my God, listen to me . . .
‘Seeing as I get to what?’
‘I don’t know, I’ve forgotten . . . Sorry, I’m shattered, no idea what I was going to say.’
‘No?’ The corners of Shay’s mouth twitched. ‘I thought you were about to say seeing as I get to spend the night in your bed.’
Mortified, Didi reached for the door handle and shook her head. ‘Oh no, it definitely wouldn’t have been anything like that.’
Across the road, having let herself into the empty flat, Didi changed into polka-dot pyjamas and hopped into Layla’s bed.
‘Hi!’ Aaron’s face appeared on her phone screen, his voice raised so she could hear him above the sound of Freddie Mercury giving ‘Don’t Stop Me Now’ his all. ‘Hang on, let me turn it down, I’m just chopping . . .’
Didi watched as he propped her up on the worktop then moved around the kitchen wiping his hands, sweeping the neatly chopped garlic and onions into a frying pan and finally reducing the level of the music he always had playing at top volume whilst he cooked. And he did cook, no matter what time he arrived home from the office or the gym. Other people might grab a takeaway or maybe make do with something to go in the microwave, but Aaron liked to wind down by preparing a meal from scratch. He could chop vegetables like lightning. He even wore a proper chef’s apron over his T-shirt and shorts while he was doing it. For Didi, who far preferred eating to cooking, it was yet another big tick in the list of things to look for in a fiancé.
‘Right, done.’ He was back, smiling at her while simultaneously reducing the flame under the pan of chicken and stirring butter into the frying onions and garlic. ‘How are you? How’s your day been?’ He did a belated double-take. ‘And whose bed are you in?’
‘I’m glad you noticed.’ Didi’s own bed was always made up with white hotel linen, whereas now she was lying against pillowcases that were neon pink, purple and turquoise. ‘It’s complicated. There was a mix-up at work and the Midnight Suite got double-booked. Which means Shay’s had to move out for the night. So he’s over at the hotel in my room and I’m here at Layla’s, sleeping in her bed, while she’s staying in Bourton with Harry.’
‘Definitely complicated. Poor you.’ Aaron deftly flipped over the chicken breasts, crossed the kitchen and extended an arm like a game-show host, indicating the pots of herbs standing to attention along the windowsill. ‘Now then, let’s see if you’ve been paying attention. Which of these should I add to the sauce?’
OK, this was one of his slightly less endearing qualities. He did love to test her on subjects in which she had zero interest.
‘The one with the green leaves?’ she suggested.
He grinned and wagged a finger at her. ‘Come on, I told you the answer the other week.’
‘I don’t know. Surprise me.’
‘Tarragon.’ He picked up the pot second from the left. ‘This one. Beautiful.’
‘I had a quick dinner in the hotel restaurant with Shay,’ said Didi, because if she didn’t mention it, someone else would be bound to.
‘What did you have?’
‘Prawn and mushroom risotto.’
‘Nice. Right, my chicken’s done and I need to concentrate on the sauce. Shall I phone you back afterwards?’
She shook her head. ‘Don’t worry, I’m tired. Going to go to sleep now.’
‘OK, I’ll give you a call tomorrow. Have a good night. Love you.’
His smile was warm but she knew he was longing to get on with constructing the sauce; as he was so fond of telling her, cookery was all about timing. She waved her fingers at the screen and said, ‘Love you too. Night.’
It was kind of frustrating, though. She’d made a point of FaceTiming Aaron so he could be reassured she was alone in bed in Layla’s flat, and he didn’t even seem to appreciate it.
A week later, Rosa was on her way back from the craft shop when a massive black cloud scudded across the sky, dumping its contents on Elliscombe in general and her in particular.
Urgh. Within thirty seconds she was soaked to the skin, her thin dress clinging to her body. And she’d blow-dried her hair this morning too. Hastily she hurried along Ravenwood Road, splashing through the torrential downpour. Two minutes later, reaching the Esso station, she heard her name being called and saw Benny Colette beckoning to her whilst he filled his car with petrol.
‘Where did this come from? Two minutes ago it was sunny.’ He grinned, safely under cover, and removed the nozzle, replacing it in the holder on the pump. ‘Hop in the car and I’ll drop you home.’
Some offers you couldn’t refuse. Rosa hopped into the passenger seat while Benny went off to pay. Upon his return she said, ‘When I get out, I’m going to leave you with a wet seat. Sorry.’
‘Hey, it’s leather, it can cope. I’m just glad this didn’t happen while I was still on the motorway. I was dropping Ingrid at Heathrow,’ he explained. ‘She’s off on a business trip to Stockholm; back next weekend in time for her birthday.’
‘Oh wonderful. I love birthdays. Will you be doing something nice?’
‘Just dinner at Le Manoir.’ Benny peered through the sheets of hammering-down rain as he edged off the garage forecourt. ‘She’s off again the following Monday to New York. You know what it’s like.’
‘Well, not personally. Seeing as I’m not a fabulously glamorous jet-setting international businesswoman.’ Rosa laughed. ‘But I’m sure it’s par for the course for those who are. Have you bought her something amazing for her birthday?’
‘Funny you should say that. I was supposed to be getting it sorted today. Birgitte, Ingrid’s daughter, was going to come with me but she couldn’t make it. The plan was to visit this new shop in Stow. I’m not sure I’m brave enough to risk it on my own.’
