by Clare Lydon
THE LONG WEEKEND
By Clare Lydon
Second Edition June 2015
Published by Custard Books
Copyright © 2014, 2015 Clare Lydon
ISBN: 978-0-9933212-4-5
Cover Design: Kevin Pruitt
Copy Editor: Gill Mullins
Find out more at: www.clarelydon.co.uk
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author.
This is a work of fiction. All characters & happenings in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons (living or dead), locales or events is purely coincidental.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Book two is finally here - yay! As with most books, there are many people who’ve helped me along the way and you’re all fabulous. No, really.
First, muchas gracias to Jamie Cootes, Jeremy Cope & Lola dog for welcoming me into their Spanish home where this story idea was hatched, along with the first 15,000 words in one perfect week. Thanks for the gorgeous paella, vino tinto and afternoon sunbathing sessions.
Gallons of thanks also to my early readers for your very constructive feedback: Suzanne Evans, Rachael Pollitt, Elaine Brown, Rachel Elliott, Sheryl Scott, Rachel Batchelor, Tammara Adams and the legend that is Angela Peach.
Oodles of plaudits to my friend Kevin Pruitt for another creative masterpiece of a cover - you are a star, it’s official. Thanks to Gill Mullins for her eagle-eyed editing skills and unfailing enthusiasm. And finally thanks to Adrian McLaughlin for the typesetting and constant encouragement. I simply could not do this without all your support.
Big love & thanks to my gorgeous wife Yvonne who read this manuscript countless times and still has nice things to say about it. I knew there was a reason I married her.
And finally, thanks to everyone who bought my first book, London Calling. That encouraged me to write another, so you only have yourself to blame.
For all my university friends.
We’ve shared some drama-filled times, but you’ll all be terribly pleased to
know that none of them feature in this book…
Table of Contents
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
THURSDAY
FRIDAY
SATURDAY
SUNDAY
MONDAY
ABOUT CLARE
CONNECT WITH CLARE!
ALSO BY CLARE LYDON…
THURSDAY
Vic & Stevie
The purple Fiesta hit another pothole where there should have been solid ground and the car slumped to the left like a well-rehearsed drunk.
Vic’s nausea rose. However, as she was the one who’d made the call to drive down this particular road/dirt track, she didn’t think Stevie would appreciate her sharing the fact that she might vomit any minute now.
Stevie tugged on the black handbrake, her fingers fitting into its ridges perfectly. It made a crunching sound, which fairly reflected the mood in the car.
“I’m not even going to ask if this is the right road, seeing as it’s not even a road.” Stevie surveyed her surroundings. “I’m guessing we should have turned right at that last junction?” Her voice didn’t hold the acute anger Vic had been fearing: rather, Stevie curled her lips into a weak smile.
“It’s the way it said on the map.” Vic wiped her palm across her clammy brow.
“Perhaps if you hadn’t been trying to eat a Flake without spilling it all over the car, you’d have been paying more attention.” Stevie sighed beside her, then blew a raspberry. She rolled her neck in a semi-circle from left to right. It rattled the whole way round like an old, rusty chain.
Vic ran her hand through her short, brown hair and took off her black glasses to wipe them on the hem of her shirt. Over five hours on the road had taken its toll on both of their nerves. The clock on the dashboard read 16.34. She put her glasses back on but wasn’t sure her vision was any clearer.
“What about the sat nav?” Stevie glanced sideways.
“The one that got us into this mess in the first place?”
Stevie stared straight ahead into the late Devon afternoon. There was not a single house or business in sight, just a few sheep in the neighbouring field. “At least it’s got a sexy voice,” she said.
“A sexy, lying voice.” Vic smiled.
The tension in the air silently popped.
“We haven’t seen a sign for miles, though,” Stevie added.
“Devonians aren’t big on signs. But they do make lovely cream teas.”
“Great. If we ever get to where we’re going, maybe we can have one.”
“That’s the spirit.” Vic stroked Stevie’s denim-clad thigh. Her wife’s muscle tensed but she ignored it. Instead, Vic flicked on the top light and surveyed the Collins UK Road Atlas in her lap. After a few moments she looked up, renewed certainty plastered across her face.
“I think I’ve got it,” she said. “If we get back onto the bit that was an actual road, we should hit the main road in, like, ten minutes. Fifteen tops. And babe?”
Stevie turned her head slowly, her short blonde crop hardly moving as she did so. Her skin sagged with tiredness, her complexion the colour of rice pudding. She was too tired to respond.
“I’ll buy you a beer when we get there.”
“You fucking better,” Stevie said. “And you’re pushing us out of this ditch if we’re stuck, too.”
Vic leant in and kissed Stevie briefly on the lips. She straightened up in the passenger seat, trying to ignore the fact Stevie’s body had just tensed again at her touch. Vic laid the map on her lap as the Fiesta’s engine roared into life again.
“What’s the ETA?” Stevie asked, looking over her left shoulder and shifting the gears into reverse as the tension hastily began its reassembly.
“One hour, tops.”
“That’s what you said last time. We will make it by Easter Sunday, right?”
Vic frowned at her sarcasm but said nothing.
“And any texts from the others yet? Are they on their way?” Stevie asked.
Vic reached into the door compartment and retrieved her phone. “Nope,” she said, shaking her head at her home screen, before carefully placing the phone back in its cover. Vic had a habit of killing phones; it was an expensive habit she was trying to break.
Stevie pressed her foot down on the accelerator and looked behind her. They both heard the engine rev but the car stayed still. Stevie pursed her lips and tried again: same result.
Vic screwed up her face as Stevie looked over at her.
“So you know that joke I made a few seconds ago?”
Vic let her eyelids settle, before taking a deep breath and opening her passenger door. “I thought driving your car into ditches only happened in rom-coms?” she said, before disappearing out of the car.
Laura & Tash
“For God’s sake, Simon, can you stop acting like a moron for one minute and listen to me?”
Laura looked out the window to her right, as if doing so meant she couldn’t hear the conversation her girlfriend was having with her ex. It didn’t work. They were still in the same car and Tash’s words reverberated off every surface, making her wish she’d got out to go to the loo at these services. It wasn’t like she hadn’t heard it before.
However, on this particular Thursday she could have done without it. Last night had been their annual awards dinner at work – a back-slapping jamboree where Laura was guaranteed never to win anything. On top of that, her line manager did win an award – on an account Laura had put most of the work into, so she’d had to sit and fume quietly.
Her response to s
uch casual acclaim-stealing had been to bitch about her boss to her colleagues and drink as much of the company’s free booze as she possibly could. Hence, today Laura wasn’t at her best, her eyeballs dry in their sockets and her brain yet to reset itself to normal. So Simon being Simon wasn’t helping.
To her right a blue Astra pulled up with harassed-looking parents in the front and wide-eyed kids in the back. The little boy stared at Laura as the car drew level. She stared right back. Just over from that, a dark-haired man in jogging bottoms and trainers walked back to his car with a tray of Burger King meals, replete with extra-large drinks.
“No, I told you Monday – Monday morning…” Tash moved her foot from the dashboard where she’d been resting it. It’d left a mark.
Laura risked a look left and met her girlfriend’s gaze.
Tash rolled her eyes back as far as she could manage.
“Simon. It was always Monday. We were never coming back on Sunday and you’ve known this since we arranged it two months ago. So whatever it is you were planning on doing Sunday night will have to wait. We’re having a whole four days on our own with no kids. You’re their father, so deal with it.” Tash paused.
Laura could hear Simon getting wound up on the other end.
Tash sighed again. “The uniforms are in the bag. They’re washed and ironed. All you have to do is drive them to school.” Another pause, more aggravation. “I don’t know Simon – look it up on the internet. Or maybe talk to them and ask them what they fancy doing. They’re real people with real thoughts, you know. Look, we have to get going – tell the kids I’ll text goodnight later.”
Tash clicked the red button on her phone and threw it into her handbag, which was resting in the passenger footwell. She had good aim. She leant forward and smacked the dashboard with both hands, palms down to reveal a shock of freckles that resembled a Magic Eye puzzle from the 1990s. She let out a scream of frustration.
Laura kept an eye on the steady stream of service-station dwellers and allowed the scene to play out before turning in her seat and giving her partner a sympathetic smile.
“All go okay, then? No problems as usual?” Laura’s sides began to shake with laughter. She knew this wasn’t the reaction Tash would want right now, but sometimes it was the only one that sprung to mind.
With her head in her hands and fingers poking through her short red hair, Tash glanced sideways and shot Laura a look. “I’m glad this is all so very amusing to you.”
“Laugh or cry babe – you can’t change it.”
“Tell me this, though…” Tash said as she turned in her seat to face Laura, her face flushed fire-engine red, her eyes teary from exertion. “What on earth was my 27-year-old self thinking when I married that idiot? I mean really, what was I thinking?” She threw her hands in the air and twisted to face front.
“Babe, you were young.” Laura leant over to kiss Tash’s cheek, her long dark hair falling over the gearstick as she did. “If I’d married the girlfriend I’d had at 27, believe me I’d be in trouble too.” Laura let out a low whistle. “Loadsa trouble.”
“But you wouldn’t have to stay in touch with that person forever would you?”
Laura shook her head slowly, knowing this argument well.
Tash let out a long breath. “I love my kids, but I wish they didn’t have to involve him.”
Laura squeezed Tash’s leg lightly. “Well there’s nothing you can do about that – he’s their dad and I’m sure he’ll take care of them this weekend.”
Tash grumbled at this.
“But for now, we have a reunion to go to and we need to make a move. Do you need the loo before we head off?”
Tash shook her head and grabbed the bottle of Diet Coke that was resting in her drinks holder. She took a swig and offered it to Laura, who took a swig too.
“Sure? Because I’m not stopping again till we pick up Gimpy…”
“How far is that?”
“About an hour.”
Tash shook her head. “I can wait.”
“Okay then, let’s get this show on the road. And remember, this weekend is a chance for us to have some time – together and with friends. Let’s not let Simon spoil that.”
Tash exhaled. “I know, I know.” She paused. “Just give me ten minutes to get this out of my system and then I promise, no more Simon talk. Deal?”
“Deal. Now why don’t you put on some loud music and we’ll gun it all the way to Taunton.”
“Whatever you say.”
The Pub
Nearly two hours later, Vic & Stevie’s Fiesta finally pulled up outside The Flowerpot pub, the rendezvous point for picking up the keys to their rented Devon house. The A-roads had been a doddle, it was the B-roads where they’d struggled. Still, they’d made it.
“Looks good,” said Stevie. She unclicked her seatbelt and rubbed her eyes – they felt gritty. “Let’s just hope the house is as nice as the pictures and they didn’t use those wide-angled lenses. Remember that place we stayed in Rome?”
Stevie recalled the tiny apartment that had appeared so enormous on the website, a trick of angles and mirrors. She also recalled the romance of that trip, which seemed a long way from where they were now. Long-haul flight far.
“It’ll be fine,” Vic said, but Stevie didn’t hear as she was already out of the car and stretching madly after nearly seven hours on the road.
Vic slammed the car door shut and it flashed then beeped as Stevie locked it and walked towards the pub, Vic falling in beside her. Vic was a couple of inches shorter than Stevie and her short, brown hair was in need of a cut, her blue shirt creased from hours in the car.
“You remember who we have to ask for?” Vic pushed the heavy, black pub door open.
Stevie rolled her eyes – Vic’s memory was shocking.
The Flowerpot turned out to be a solid local pub and fairly large by London standards. In the Big Smoke it’d be called a gastro pub, but in Devon the pubs were just where you ate and didn’t need to be dressed up with a fancy name. The wooden bar was directly ahead as they walked in but the pub spread out in all directions, with tables tucked into nooks and corners everywhere they looked.
Vic and Stevie stood at the bar, waiting to be served by a tall brunette with hair beyond her shoulders and a winning smile. She gave her previous customer their change and then turned the same smile on them.
“What can I get you?”
“We’re looking for Grace or Tom?” Stevie rested her elbow on the impressively polished brass that ran around the edge of the bar.
“That’s easy, that’s me,” said the barmaid, grinning wider if that was possible. “Well, the Grace bit at least.” She paused. “Tom’s not back from one of our suppliers yet, was meant to be but got stuck in traffic.” Grace gave Stevie a ‘whatchagonnado?’ shrug. “So I was hanging on for you guys. You must be Stevie?” she continued, her voice rising at the end of her sentence.
Stevie picked her accent as Australian. “That’s me,” she said, shaking Grace’s offered hand across the bar. “And this is Vic.” Stevie indicated her wife, who gave Grace a shy wave.
“Stevie like Stevie Nicks?” Grace enthused.
Stevie smiled like she’d never heard that one before and gave Grace a nod.
“Way cool!” Grace said. “Let me just go and find Pete to man the bar and I’ll get the keys. Do you have a car?”
“Outside,” Stevie said, flicking her head in its direction.
“Great – gimme two ticks.”
Grace dutifully reappeared in a couple of minutes, keys dangling from her well-manicured fingers.
“Okay, ready,” she said. It was a statement, not a question.
Vic and Stevie followed her out the pub door which was no mean feat – Grace moved at some speed. It was probably why she stayed so slim – nervous energy. Stevie knew, she suffered with the same issue.
“Now don’t worry, I’m not going to come with you an
d show you round the house – it’s all in the welcome pack and it’s pretty self-explanatory. Besides, I hate it when owners are too overbearing,” Grace said, handing Stevie two sets of keys.
Up close and out from behind the bar, Grace was an imposing presence, standing a few inches taller than Stevie with an attractive figure to match her face. She was dressed simply in jeans and a green top, sunglasses atop her head. Stevie would lay bets the shades were a permanent feature, whatever the weather.
“Front and back doors are marked on the keys,” Grace said, pointing at them in Stevie’s palm. “I hope two sets is enough? It usually is…”
“Should be fine,” Stevie said.
“That’s it, really. Have a great time and any problems, call me on my mobile. The number’s in the pack or pop into the pub. We run it so one of us should be here.”
“Sounds great,” Vic said. “We’re probably just going to dump our stuff and come back for some food anyway.”
“Great!” Grace’s positivity was infectious. “Our chef Evan is awesome. He’s Aussie too, so I trust him 100%. Just drive straight out of here,” Grace continued, directing them with her hands. “First left and then right at the top of the hill and there’s the house. It’s Tom’s family house – we love it, so hope you do too. I’ll be round Monday lunchtime so just leave the keys inside. Have fun!”
Grace waved as she rounded the corner of the pub, fishing her phone from her handbag as she did. They heard the beep of a car lock as they unlocked their own and got back in.
“Well she was super-friendly.” Stevie put the key in the ignition. “Do you think everyone in Devon is going to be the same?”
“Nah, we’re sure to meet the odd psychopath too.” Vic clicked her seatbelt into place. “Law of averages, isn’t it?”
Kat & Abby
“How you feeling?” Abby looked at Kat, her brow furrowed.
