‘Excuse me?’
‘Even from here, I can sense that feminine mind ticking over,’ he smiles. ‘So just to satisfy your curiosity, yes, her name is Audrey. And yes, my break-up with her was pure hell. I wouldn’t wish it on another living soul. The old story of two mismatched souls who somehow ended up together, then subsequently realised we were far, far better apart. And yes, Audrey’s with a new partner now who’s a great guy and believe it or not who I’m actually very fond of. She and I won’t ever be friends, I don’t think, not in the real sense of the word, but we do occasionally stay in touch. She and her partner even came to my last book launch.’
His eye catches mine and he twinkles across at me.
‘So now, there’s nothing more to see here, Tess,’ he says, ‘no deep murky secrets for you to unearth.’
‘Well it’s certainly great to hear that you’re on such good terms,’ I say, slightly morto that I can be read this easily.
‘And now can we get back to you?’ he says, turning his head away from the view to look at me. ‘I’ve just given you a potted version of my own autobiography, and now it’s your go. Fair’s fair and all that. Start with why you’re living with your folks and we can take it from there. Don’t worry, I’ll ask questions if I need to. I do a lot of author Q&A sessions; I’m well used to it.’
I take another tiny sip of the water.
‘Well, before I met Bernard,’ I tell him, ‘I was with a long-term boyfriend and we shared a flat together.’
There. Now that wasn’t so bad, was it? I managed to get that much out alright and it didn’t even make me feel nauseous all over again.
Whaddya know. I must be improving.
‘Name, rank and serial number, please?’ Will says.
‘You really need that level of detail?’
‘Writers always need back-stories. Come on, humour me. Fill me in.’
‘OK then, he was called Paul,’ I say, invoking his name, in a way I never, ever allow myself to. ‘He’s a physiotherapist and we’d been together for so long I think everyone just assumed he and I were a done deal.’
‘So what went wrong?’
‘He did. Very, very wrong. So wrong you’d choke on your drink wrong.’
‘I’m all ears.’
I sigh, sensing that Will isn’t going to let this drop.
‘In a nutshell, he went off to Manchester to work and was away for five days a week, but then back home with me for weekends.’
‘Ah, the classic five: two relationship. Tell me more and rest assured I promise not to put any of this into a book.’
‘You’d better not!’ I say, mock horrified. ‘Although mine is such a textbook case, I doubt anyone would even be interested.’
‘Well I am, for one.’
‘Your common or garden case of cheating, that’s what happened,’ I say quietly, feelings that I’ve long since dealt with and locked away now threatening to bark at the door all over again.
‘A cheater?’ Will says, and even from here I can see his fists clenching inside his pockets. ‘Bastard. No excuse for it. Absolutely none.’
‘Turned out that he’d met someone else over there – an actress, to really make me feel good about myself – and that was the end of that.’
‘Ouch. An actress? Such a cliché. Might I have heard of her? What has she been in?’
‘Panto and five episodes of Hollyoaks. I googled her.’
‘A truly fitting contribution to world culture. So how did you find out? Did your ex behave like a gentleman and, overwhelmed by guilt, confess all?’
‘Are you kidding? That was the worst part of all. I actually found out through her.’
Oh, Christ can I even finish telling this?
‘Through the erstwhile Meryl Streep?’
‘Via social media, if you can even believe that. She friended me on Facebook, explained that she’d got pally with Paul in Manchester then started posting all sorts of photos of the two of them that … well that got me suspicious, let’s just say.’
‘What sort of photos?’
‘Nothing incriminating, it was just that they seemed to be spending so much time together. She’d send photos of them in bars and restaurants and at football matches, then when he’d come home, all he could do was talk about her.’
‘And did you confront him? Please say yes. I love a good juicy confrontation scene.’
‘Course I did. But it was how he handled it that really was the clincher. He denied, denied, denied that there was anything going on.’
‘I’m told they all do.’
‘He claimed they were part of a gang of friends who hung out together, and that was it …’
‘Which may have been true, I suppose.’
‘… well that’s just it, his lies were so convincing that I completely believed him … I wanted to believe him.’
‘I find there’s nothing more dangerous in this world than a good liar.’
‘… But it was still agony for me every single Sunday night when he’d head back to Manchester for the week ahead and I wouldn’t have a clue what he was up to over there.’
‘Ah, the erosion of trust. Fatal to any relationship.’
‘Then not long afterwards, he came clean and told me he’d actually been seeing this actressy one – sorry, I still can’t even bring myself to say her name—’
‘She’s secondary to the story, don’t worry, I don’t need a name.’
‘Well the upshot of it was that they’d been together, actually properly together for months. And to make matters worse, he’d been living with her Monday to Friday the whole time, then coming home to me at weekends. To my knowledge he’s still with her now.’
‘Please tell me you did at least get to whack him over the head with the back of a frying pan and rip up his clothes when you found out? Shitheads like him deserve no less. In one of my books, he’d have been murdered in cold blood by now.’
‘There was a horrible scene of course – more than one – but you know how it is. I think I ended up crying in front of him mainly, then spent weeks afterwards full of Smart Alec indignation thinking of all the stingers I actually could have come out with. Oh God, Will, it was all just such a mess. We’d just put a deposit on a house together, but then when we broke up, I couldn’t bear the thought of living there, not to mention the fact that I wouldn’t be able to afford the mortgage on my own. You see, I’d really thought that would be a home for us. Our permanent home, my permanent home—’
I break off here though, astonished that the memory still has the power to sting with pain. Even from a safe distance of three full years. Even now.
‘Anyway, I moved out …’ I go on, aware that Will is looking worriedly at me across the table now. ‘But of course, I lost my deposit on the house, so I ended up losing all my savings. In the space of a few short months, I lost everything. The man I loved, my home, my money, my whole future, everything.’
‘Jesus, Tess, that’s rough,’ he says gently. ‘I don’t know what to say, except I really can sympathise. What an arse that Paul is.’
‘So I’d no choice but to go back to Mum and Dad—’
‘With your dignity intact, though.’
‘My dignity may have been intact, but I can tell you at the time I felt like a complete failure.’
‘Au contraire,’ he says, his eyes looking softly across at me. ‘Like a very brave girl, who wasn’t prepared to compromise.’
‘And then not long after, I met Bernard.’
‘Who’s the complete opposite of Paul, I’d imagine.’
‘Gracie, my sister, always calls him the anti-Paul. And yeah, I’d been lied to and cheated on and dumped in the worst way you can imagine, then along comes this sweet, older man who I knew in a million years would never put me through the emotional wringer I’d just been through. You’ve no idea, my whole faith in men had been totally eroded and I suppose he helped me to heal, in a way. After just a year, he was talking about marriage. Whereas with Paul
, we were a full six years together and it was a hard slog getting him to commit to a dinner with my family.’
Bernard, I think, my thoughts drifting. Who I still haven’t heard a word from all day. Nor come to think of it, have I been in touch with him either. I suddenly go quiet just at the mention of him.
Then with a sinking heart I think of Saturday night and this sten do that’s looming and just about everything that still has to be done in time for it. I texted Mum earlier to say I’d be a bit delayed getting home, but faithfully promised that I’d stay up all night if need be, to get the house ready.
Mum, I think, suddenly sitting up straight. And Gracie. And bloody Saturday night. And the wedding, and all the hundred thousand jobs that still have to be done for it. And just like that, the spell of this beautiful sunlit balcony and the feeling that I’m a thousand miles away from all the stresses in my life instantly shatters. I glance down at my phone, suddenly aware that I’ve lost all track of time. And sure enough, there’s a text I must have missed waiting for me from the Mothership. One of her super-long ones too:
OFF TO BINGO WITH THE GIRLS. SO NOW YOUR JOB, MISSY, IS TO MAKE ENOUGH VEGETARIAN CANNELLONI FOR TWENTY-FIVE PEOPLE FOR SATURDAY. BE WARNED THOUGH THAT IF I COME HOME TO EVEN AS MUCH AS A DIRTY SAUCEPAN IN THE SINK, IF THERE’S AS MUCH AS A STRAY BIT OF PASTA ON THE COUNTER, YOU’LL KNOW ALL ABOUT IT.
Then a second one, as if to reinforce it:
TESS? WHERE ARE YOU ANYWAY? HOME. GET HOME NOW! GET YOUR APRON ON AND GET TO WORK!
‘Will, I really need to go,’ I say, abruptly getting up to leave. He looks surprised, but stands up with me and politely slides the balcony door open as I head back into the warmth of the apartment inside.
‘None of my business of course,’ he says, ‘but that text message. The fiancé, I’m guessing?’
‘Oh, just more wedding crap. So much still to do, you wouldn’t believe it.’
‘Not such a good sign when a bride-to-be is referring to her upcoming nuptials as “more wedding crap”.’
‘You’d be very surprised just how much sheer crapology is involved.’
‘You never finished telling me about Bernard,’ he says. ‘Though a lot of things are starting to make more sense to me now.’
‘Like what?’ I ask, stopping in my tracks, suddenly intrigued.
‘You really want me to tell you?’
I turn to face him, with my arms folded. ‘Go on then, smart-arse.’
‘Well, I’d hardly be a million miles off the mark in assuming that this Bernard guy is something of a rebounder for you. So far, so obvious.’
Jesus, I think, freezing on the spot. Deep down I’ve always known as much, but there’s something about another person stating it out loud that’s actually frightening.
‘It would certainly account for a lot of things,’ he goes on. ‘How angry and upset you were when I bumped into you last weekend for one thing, after you’d rowed with him. Why you never wear an engagement ring, for another.’
‘Will,’ I say in a small voice, ‘can we drop this? Please?’
But it’s like he’s not hearing me.
‘… And so now of course, with the clock ticking down to the actual wedding, it’s highly probable that cold, hard reality is finally starting to set in,’ he chats on, seemingly unaware that I’m almost glaring at him by now. ‘You’ve been so bogged down in jury service and bridal centrepieces and wedding bands and bridesmaids’ dresses, that it’s easy to lose sight of the fact there’s going to be a man waiting for you at an altar very soon. So now you’re at this emotional crossroads, is my guess. You’re thinking … all this fuss for one day, but come the day after, you could well find yourself looking at someone who was a rebound guy for you at best. One day, Tess, versus the rest of your whole life. I’ve tried to tell you before and you didn’t listen to me then. So I’m only hoping you will now before it’s too late.’
A pause and it’s like he’s suddenly aware that I’m scarlet in the face by now, a red hotness burning through me.
‘Oh God,’ he says, seeing my expression and instantly backtracking. ‘Forgive me for being so cheeky and for rambling on. You have to understand that we fiction writers have very vivid imaginations.’
I say nothing though. Just grab my jacket and bag and make for the hall door. He follows me, walks with me as far as the lift and presses the button for it. It arrives and we both step into the cool, marble interior. I’m aware of him looking over at me, but still can’t bring myself to meet his gaze.
‘Tess?’ he says softly as the lift zooms down. ‘Did I push it a bit too far?’
I don’t answer.
‘Old habit of mine, I’m afraid,’ he says after a pause. ‘Making all sorts of rash assumptions and invariably jumping to the wrong conclusions. Authors are ruthless like that, I’m sorry to say. We sense a story and just have to get to the bottom of it.’
Another pause while I just stare into the brass reflection on the lift door. My own face looking blankly back at me while Will looks on, hands like fists shoved into his pockets.
‘Tess?’ he says gently as the lift comes to a stop. ‘Come on, talk to me. Say something. Don’t leave like this.’
We step out together and he follows me through the main entrance door and out onto the busyness of Ringsend Road, just adjacent to Charlotte Quay Dock. Automatically, I start looking left and right for a cab, but next thing I’m aware of, Will has swung me around to face him, his hands clamped down on both of my shoulders.
‘I’m so sorry,’ he says. ‘There we were having a perfectly lovely evening and then I went and blew it, didn’t I?’
‘No, no you didn’t,’ I say, seeing just how concerned he really is. ‘This is something—’
‘Yes?’
‘Well let’s just say that it’s a very confusing time for me, that’s all. And … no … you weren’t wrong in what you said at all. In fact you were more accurate than you probably even know.’
‘Then all I can do is keep saying sorry,’ he says, eyes burning into mine. ‘Me and my bloody big mouth. Wouldn’t be the first time it’s got me into trouble. So are you OK?’
A pause that almost throbs as the traffic whooshes past us.
‘No,’ I say, almost under my breath, shaking my head back at him. ‘No, Will, I’m about as far from OK as you can get. So much is happening all at once and … oh God, do you ever just feel like events have taken over your life and you’re powerless to do a single thing about it?’
‘Every single day of my life,’ he says wryly.
‘And just for the record,’ I add. ‘What you said back there about Bernard being a rebound relationship for me was—’
His black eyes are scrutinising my face now, just waiting.
‘Well, my family certainly do agree with you. Mum, Dad, even my sister Gracie.’
‘Then as my little niece always says to me, let’s hug it out,’ Will says, opening his arms wide. ‘Trust me, a good hug makes everything better.’
So I fall into him and we hug, tightly. And it feels warm and secure and he smells just lovely; strong and musky and comforting. Exactly what I needed right now.
A couple more taxis swish by and I let them, and still our hug goes on, both Will’s arms locked around my waist now. I snuggle my head against his shoulder and am suddenly aware that he’s starting to stroke my hair gently.
‘He’s a lucky guy, this Bernard fella,’ he says quietly. ‘I hope he knows that. And I hope he’s good to you and treats you well.’
I don’t answer though, just stay locked where I am, enjoying this moment of closeness, unable to break away just yet. Bernard and I never hug, not properly, not like this. But then, he’s such a big man that I only ever end up bouncing off him.
Then Will pulls back a tiny bit, lightly putting his fingers under my chin and tilting my face up to him.
‘Goodnight then, Tess.’
‘Goodnight.’
He bends down to kiss me lightly on the lip
s. Just once.
And then twice. And by the third time neither of us can stop. Then somehow he and I are kissing full-on and it’s warm and getting hotter and sexy as hell and somehow even if I wanted to, I just can’t seem to break away.
KATE
Friday morning, 8 a.m.
‘You all set?’ said Mo.
‘As I’ll ever be,’ Kate replied, praying that some of Mo’s latent confidence might just rub off on her.
Mo, ever a true pal, had offered to drive Kate in to court today and not only that, but said she’d sit in the public benches too, to lend all the moral support she could from the side lines.
‘You know I’ll never be able to thank you enough for all this,’ Kate said, as they zoomed down the N11 motorway on their way to the Criminal Courts of Justice.
‘Don’t be so ridiculous,’ said Mo briskly, eyes focused on the road ahead. ‘Today is a big one for you and there was no way I was letting you face that alone.’
Just then, the eight o’clock news came on the radio and instinctively Mo went to switch it off.
‘You don’t need to hear this, dearest,’ she said. ‘And I know I certainly could do without it.’
‘Actually,’ said Kate, the thought just occurring to her. ‘Let’s leave it on. See what they’re making of all this.’
‘Sure?’ asked Mo warily glancing at her out of the corner of her eye.
‘Certain.’
So Mo raised up the volume as a newsreader’s voice filled the Jeep.
The headlines were all about the housing crisis, followed by a report about pressure on banks to cut variable mortgage interest rates. And sure enough, there it was, third item on the news.
‘Today at the Criminal Courts of Justice,’ the news anchor went on, a man with a voice full of pompous authority. ‘All eyes will surely turn to court number seven, where defendant Kate King has called a surprise witness, a noted art historian from City College. The court has been in recess for the past few days, but later this morning, he’ll take the stand. And now over to our special correspondent, who has more for us.’
‘I’m here at the Criminal Courts of Justice,’ began another news reporter, a woman who Kate was starting to recognise by sight, she’d seen her so often outside the court, microphone in hand, ‘where there’s a considerable amount of speculation about the latest twist in the King case. Mr Jasper Adams from City College is due to take the stand today and the question on everyone’s lips appears to be, why? Oliver Daniels for the Prosecution vehemently protested against the inclusion of this witness and was overruled. This clearly points to the Defence possibly having new information to bring to the case, which had previously been withheld. All in all, today should certainly be an interesting one here at court number seven. I’ll be back with more, just after the lunchtime news. And now, back to you in the studio.’
All She Ever Wished For Page 32
