Another Woman's Man

by Carrie-Ann Schless

  ‘Well, it would have been nice of him to ask, but sure, I think it’s ok,’ I joked.

  ‘Great.’ I pictured him beaming down the phone. ‘Let me take you out.’

  One date turned into two, then three, which then turned into weekends away and quickly evolved into meeting families. We became inseparable.

  ‘He’s perfect!’ I’d say to Kat, and she would roll her eyes as she had heard it every day for months.

  Kat and I had met up to talk. Max had told me he had something very important to ask me. We had been dating for nearly a year now, so I was trying to prepare for what could be the big question and wanted Kat’s thoughts.

  But something wasn’t right with her. The sparkle behind her eyes looked duller today.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ I leant forward and placed my hand over hers.

  ‘Nothing.’ She moved her hand away and forced a smile. ‘Do you reckon Max is going to propose?’ She took a sip from her hot chocolate. Her comfort drink.

  I had known Kat since I was four, and she was five. She was the year above me at school, but we were in the same groups for all our clubs. We liked the same things. ballet, tap, gymnastics, and swimming. The one day we had off from activities, our parents used to take us to the park. They became good friends, too, which was great for us. We practically spent all our free time together. She used to come and stay at Nan’s at weekends, and her dad took us for ice creams once a week.

  I stared at her face. ‘Please tell me what’s wrong.’

  Her poker face crumbled away before my eyes, and the tears started to fall.

  ‘It’s Sean,’ she wailed, barely holding herself together. I went cold. A million thoughts flew through my head.

  ‘Kat, what about him? Is he hurt? What’s happened?’

  ‘He’s cheating on me.’

  I didn’t think it was possible to hate someone instantly. My blood started to boil. How could he do this? How could he hurt my best friend? I saw red. I wanted him to suffer. Seeing my friend, my beautiful, thoughtful friend, crumble into a sad little girl, I wanted to cause him pain.

  I had always looked out for Kat. Even though she was older, I had always acted like an older sister to her. When she had introduced me to Sean, I had warned him that if he ever broke her heart I would break him. Trying to stay calm, I comforted her. Hugged her, wiped away her tears.

  It got worse. Not only was he a cheat, he was a serial cheater. Kat and Sean worked in the same hotel, where he was head chef and she was on reception. After working his way through the chambermaids, he had apparently moved onto the kitchen porters. His secret only got out when one of them fell pregnant. In my head, I was ploughing him down in my car, when Kat threw herself down onto the table.

  ‘I’m a laughing stock, Casey. How did I not see it? I can never go to work again.’

  By the time we got back to her flat, Sean had gone. He’d taken everything he could fit in his car and scarpered. A pathetic note scribbled on the kitchen side said: I’m sorry.

  They’d been together three years. They had been so happy. He was one of my best friends, too; how had I not seen he was a snake? I despised cheaters. To me, it was simple. You either love someone or you don’t, and if you do you couldn’t even look at someone else. I’d thought he loved Kat, I really did.

  The rest of the afternoon was spent packing away any other signs of Sean. Kat didn’t want them there. I helped her to apply for a transfer to a different hotel on the outskirts of town, and we packed her an overnight bag.

  Stopping off at the Chinese and the off licence on the way back to mine, I sent a quick text to Max:

  Sean’s gone. Kat needs me. Sorry xxx

  Chapter Six

  Cuddled up on the sofa, smothered in blankets, we stuffed our faces with chicken balls and chow mein, washed down with the finest Smirnoff vodka, with proper full-fat coke. I’d let Kat choose the film, which was a bad decision. She chose The Notebook. In a way, it was good; the tears could fall all the way through, and she could pretend it was just the story. I knew it wasn’t.

  I cried, too. Partly because of the film, but mostly because I couldn’t stop her pain. There was nothing I could do but be there. I had turned my phone off after sending Max the text, so I had no idea if he had replied. I had a quick vision of him sitting in the restaurant waiting for me. I hoped not, and uttered a silent prayer that he had got the text in plenty of time. But to be honest, he was far from my mind. I knew he would understand.

  The four of us had become like a family over the past year. I suppose that was part of the problem. After my mum had moved away to New York with her new husband Jonathan, and my dad had retired to Cornwall, other than Nan, they were the only family I had. Sean running off was like losing a brother.

  We swapped Chinese cartons for Ben and Jerry’s, a tub and a spoon each.

  ‘Do you think I’m a fool?’ Kat whispered.

  ‘No, darling,’ I sighed. ‘He is.’

  The doorbell rang. Two short, three long. It was Max.

  When I opened the door, he was standing there with a bottle of vodka, a massive bunch of flowers, and a sympathetic smile. ‘Where is she?’ he asked, handing me the bottle and sweeping into the flat. Crouching down onto the floor in front of Kat, he placed a hand on her cheek. ‘I’m so sorry, darling. I didn’t know, I promise I didn’t.’ He passed her the flowers, kissed her on her other cheek, and then brought her into a massive bear hug. That there was the man I loved.

  He gestured me over and brought me into the squeeze, which made Kat laugh for the first time that day. He released us from his grip, shouted at me to pour the drinks, and jumped to my DVD selection to find a comedy. We sandwiched her on the sofa and giggled the night away.

  Kat slept in my bed that night; Max slept on the sofa. I held her as she cried herself to sleep. Rocking and shushing her. Once I knew she was asleep, I crept back into the living room to say goodnight to Max.

  ‘I’m so sorry about tonight.’ I slipped my arms around his neck.

  ‘Don’t say sorry. Kat comes first, I get that.’

  ‘I love you.’

  ‘I love you more.’

  I yawned. I was emotionally exhausted.

  ‘Get some sleep, baby.’ He kissed me on my forehead. ‘She’s gonna need you more tomorrow.’

  ‘How could he do that to her?’

  ‘I really don’t know, babe.’

  I paused, deep in thought. ‘What did you want to ask me?’

  ‘What?’ Max looked puzzled.

  ‘Tonight at dinner. You wanted to ask me something important.’

  Max rubbed my knee and looked to the floor. ‘Now isn’t the right time.’

  ‘It’s as good a time as any,’ I pushed.

  He looked as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders. He moved me round to sit on his lap.

  ‘I got the promotion,’ he told me.

  ‘That’s great news.’ I was so relieved to finally hear some good news. Max took a deep breath. There was more.

  ‘It means I have to move. Only to Brighton, but I wanted to ask you to move in with me. Now I can’t.’

  ‘Because you know I won’t leave Kat.’

  The realisation dawned on me. Sean hadn’t just ruined Kat’s plans for life, but he had also thoroughly screwed up mine. Max wanted me to move in with him! This was huge. The next step in our relationship.

  He’d been working towards this promotion since before we had met, so I knew he had to take it, but now I had a hard decision to make. I had to choose between living in a different town to my boyfriend, or my best friend.

  Climbing back in beside Kat, I let a few tears of my own drip onto the pillow.

  Chapter Seven

  The sea was calm, with the sun shimmering on the surface. Seagulls floated on the breeze and tourists meandered along the promenade. A distant boom box blasted out old school songs, and fun and laughter was all around.

  It wasn’t a typical Sunday with Nanny Edna. The s
ummer sun sent us to the beach instead of our usual café for cream teas. We’d spent a good half an hour cleaning and laying flowers at Granddad’s grave. There were lilies and laughter as we shared memories about the silly things the old man used to do when he was alive. Remembering the good times was always easy, as there had been so many.

  Back on the bench, with our 99s in hand, we sat staring into the blue whilst I filled her in on Kat’s heartbreak and Max’s promotion.

  ‘So, are you going to move in with him?’

  ‘How can I, Nan?’ I thought of Kat.

  ‘True. What do you young people say now? Sisters before misters?’ I couldn’t disguise the look of shock on my face. ‘Sheila Hannigan’s granddaughter has been teaching me the lingo,’ Nan said proudly.

  ‘Oh Nan! What am I going to do with you?’

  She took my hand into hers, cupping it like a small creature she didn’t want to escape.

  ‘You have to think about yourself sometimes, darling. Katrina is a stronger person than you think.’

  ‘I know.’ I shrugged. ‘But she’s not the only person I have to leave, is she?’ I hugged her close.

  ‘You could always take me with you,’ she giggled. ‘I’ve always fancied Brighton.’

  ‘I remember you and Granddad taking me there in the summer.’

  ‘Good memories, huh?’

  ‘The best.’ We sat, silent for a while.

  ‘I mean it, you know. I could look at homes over there. I’ve lived in Eastbourne my whole life. A change may be good.’

  Back at Sunnydale, Nan had ordered me a roast beef dinner. The food there was lovely. Claire was a fabulous cook. Whilst pouring her gravy, Nan started telling everyone about the new life she was going to have in Brighton.

  ‘Nothing is set in stone yet, Nan.’ I took the gravy boat from her.

  ‘Poppycock. Seize the day. Even if you decide not to go, I still might.’

  Edna Parker was a stubborn woman. She got an idea in her head, and it stayed there. Nobody wanted her to leave, of course. They all started begging her to stay. I watched Nan, a smile on her face, loving the attention.

  Soon it was time to leave, but not before a sing-song round the piano. After a few songs about apple trees, blue birds, and yellow ribbons, I said my goodbyes and climbed into my car.

  Kat was still at mine, sitting on the sofa with my king-size duvet enveloping her. She quickly hid her phone. I could tell she had been crying.

  ‘What are you up to?’ I asked. ‘You called him, didn’t you?’

  ‘His phone’s off,’ she sulked.

  I headed to the kitchen, flicking the switch on the kettle. I got out two cups, two teabags, and a spoon. Taking a plate out of the cupboard, I called through to the living room and immediately started serving up last night’s leftovers. ‘Have you eaten?’

  ‘No,’ came the expected reply.

  Placing the plate in the microwave, I turned it on then poured the boiled water onto the teabags. ‘Multi-tasking like a pro,’ I whispered under my breath.

  Balancing the two mugs in one hand and the hot plate in the other, I rushed into the lounge and put them on top of a magazine on the coffee table.

  ‘Pass it,’ I said, holding my hand out for the phone.

  Reluctantly, she passed it over. One hundred and thirty-four times she had tried to ring him. All unanswered. All went to answerphone. I dreaded to think of the messages she might have left.

  I watched her as she forced herself to eat a forkful of rice. We both knew she would never get the chance to speak to him again.

  ‘He’s deleted his Facebook,’ she eventually sighed. I had no idea what she was talking about, so she had to explain it to me. I pictured him as a serial conman, changing identities and moving towns every time he was caught out. Could we even be certain that Sean Hughes was, in fact, Sean Hughes?

  After she had eaten some food and topped up on fluids, I ran Kat a candlelit bath with stress-relief Radox, and put my CD of old rat pack songs on low. It was our guilty pleasure; our favourite when we were feeling down.

  After she had a long soak in the bath and I’d sorted out all the laundry for work, Max turned up and the three of us did face masks and played cards.

  Kat’s overnight stay extended to a fortnight. She didn’t want to be alone in their home, so Max and I went there to collect post and extra things for her. A week into her stay, we finally dragged her out. She had barely left my flat.

  Her work transfer had been accepted, so we went shopping for a new blouse. The one she had been wearing when she found out about Sean was tainted by that memory, so it just had to go. In its place, we found three white blouses, a black pencil skirt, a cardigan, a summer dress, two pairs of sandals in different colours, a little black dress, and a going-out coat. She bought new lipsticks in case Sean’s germs were on the old ones, new underwear, new bedding, and a new handbag. Not bad for a day’s work.

  We had manicures, pedicures, facials, and booked in for a massage later in the week. Perfect.

  That night, we went for drinks. I had texted ahead and warned her friends that tonight was a Sean-free zone. I wanted no pitying faces, no mention of how sorry they were. Kat felt shit enough without being reminded every five minutes. She was a trooper. I knew she would get through this, but if we could make it any easier for her I was sure as hell going to make sure we did.

  Later that night, after dropping Max off home, the taxi took us to mine. Kat and I stumbled about, helping each other up the stairs. Max had already paid the fare – ever the gent – so all we had to worry about was getting up the stairs and finding the right key for the door.

  ‘What a fabulous day,’ Kat drunk-whispered, trying not to wake my neighbours, but speaking loud enough to wake up the neighbourhood. ‘I almost forgot my ex is a cheating arsehole.’

  ‘Good. That was the plan,’ I said, wondering why my car key wasn’t opening my front door.

  ‘I love you, Casey Turner. You are the best friend I could ever have asked for. Promise you will never ever leave me.’

  That sobering thought was enough to get us into the flat. Not yet, I thought to myself, but one day perhaps.

  Chapter Eight

  I really missed Kat when she moved back out. It was nice to be able to walk around naked and have full control of the TV, but I did miss her company. I’d enjoyed having someone to talk to in the evenings, to make me tea when I woke up, and generally to share the chores with. But there was one bonus to losing my houseguest. Sex. With or without my boyfriend.

  My battery-operated one had been banished to the back of the bedroom drawer, and Max had given my sofa more attention than I’d had in the past couple weeks. The closest I’d got to a screaming orgasm was the cocktail. Spooning with Kat hadn’t exactly been the same as messing up the covers with Max.

  Morning, noon, and night. Whenever I wanted it, I got it. It was like being at the start of our relationship all over again. On the rare occasion we did sleep in our own beds, we had phone sex. I had never tried it before, but I figured it was worth a go.

  With Max’s move creeping up on us, I knew this would probably become the main basis of our relationship for God knows how long. It was so easy to say we would see each other every day and take it in turns driving to each other’s houses, but when you factored in the time and petrol it takes I knew we would end up being limited to weekends and days off. The day he moved, I cried. Big, heavy teardrops dripped down my face. I honestly felt I would never see him again.

  ‘Don’t be silly.’ He wiped my tears away. ‘You’re staying at mine this whole weekend.’

  It was true. We’d had it planned for over a month; I’d had my weekend bag packed for a week, and it was already Wednesday. I wasn’t sure if I could survive the next 60 hours, but Max was positive I could.

  It flew by. His townhouse was amazing. Of course, I’d been and viewed it with him, but seeing it with all his stuff in it looked even better. I had my own room! Not to sleep in, but f
or my clothes. He had a games room, and there was a spare room for Kat when she came to stay. The garden was small, but with enough room for a BBQ and a seating area, and a cute window box with a colourful floral display. The kitchen diner was huge. Spacious. A more modern extension to the older part of the house, with a utility room where the old kitchen used to be. The living room was quaint and cosy, with a real fireplace and bay windows.

  Every weekend that I stayed, I left a little bit more of my stuff behind. And a mere eight months after he moved in, I put my one-bedroom harbour flat up for rent and moved my entire world to be with the love of my life.

  Kat had begun to move on. Sean was just a faded scar to her now. A war wound. She had just started seeing another guy. And Ben was as different to Sean as you could get.

  Work saw me swapping Eastbourne’s Arndale Centre for Brighton’s Churchill Square. Although my uniform stayed the same, my surroundings and colleagues changed. It was sad leaving my retail warriors. On a plus side, it was slightly closer to the beach for lunch breaks, and I had different shops to browse in on rainy days.

  And I loved date nights in Brighton. There were so many things to do. Cinema, bowling, rides on the pier. We had a huge choice of restaurants and bars.

  Our Eastbourne friends would come over on weekends, and we would paint the town red, white, and blue. Sundays, Max and I would visit Nan together. She liked him. She’d decided against leaving. A new woman had moved into the home, and she was like the Thelma to Nan’s Louise. The odd weekend I couldn’t go, Kat went for me. Life was perfect.

  Max would often meet me from work when he finished early, and we would go for a drink and a bite to eat. On this particular day, we went into a bar I’d never been to and which was quite close to Max’s office. I didn’t recognise a single face. Max seemed to know a few people, leaving me sitting at a table whilst he chatted in the smoking area about football results. I could see him through the window, obviously angry by his team’s performance that afternoon.

  Bored, I fiddled with a beer mat and looked around the public house. Old-fashioned patterned carpet, a jukebox over in the far corner, the flashing lights of the fruit machines to the side of the bar, and a pool table squeezed into the space near the window. I watched the players for a while, as the tubby guy in a grey t-shirt seven-balled a lanky, scruffy-haired bloke who seemed to insist on wearing his sunglasses indoors. This was probably their daily routine, playing winner-stays-on from end of work until kicking out time.