by Sophie Hart
Debbie still had no idea what he was talking about, but a very bad feeling was growing in the pit of her stomach. Unlocking her phone, it opened on her text messages. She skimmed over the words hardly able to believe what she was reading:
Hey hot stuff, it was gr8 to meet you the other night. U want 2get together tonight 4a repeat? Let’s see if I can get that ring off your finger ;) x
‘It’s obviously a mistake,’ she laughed, relief flooding over her. ‘Someone’s clearly sent the message to the wrong person.’
But Stevie didn’t laugh. ‘So why is his number saved in your phone along with his name? Don’t lie to me, Debbie, I’m not stupid.’
‘But I don’t kn—’ She broke off suddenly as understanding dawned, her face changing as she realised exactly who was texting her.
‘Oh,’ Stevie said, his voice heavy with sarcasm. ‘So you do know him after all.’
‘It’s not what it looks like,’ Debbie burst out, hearing how clichéd that sounded.
‘So what is it then?’ Stevie rarely lost his temper, but Debbie could see just how angry he was getting. ‘Why is some dickhead called Phil texting my fiancée and asking her to get together with him for a repeat of the other night?’
Debbie squirmed uncomfortably. When Stevie put it like that, she could see why he might be upset.
‘Look, let me explain,’ she began calmly. She reached for his hand, but Stevie snatched it away, jumping to his feet and beginning to pace the room. Scamp trotted after him, following every step. Debbie swallowed hard, knowing she had no choice but to tell him the whole story and hope he believed her. ‘It was last week. When I went out with Julia and Gill.’
Stevie’s hands had tightened into angry fists, exhaling hard through his nose.
‘But nothing happened. It’s all a silly misunderstanding. I’d gone to the bar to get another bottle of prosecco. The bar was busy and this guy next to me started chatting.’
‘Good looking, was he?’ Stevie asked pointedly.
Debbie flushed red, and Stevie threw her a look of disgust.
‘But it wasn’t like that! He was just making polite conversation. I guess I was a bit tipsy and started chatting back. I had my phone out – I was actually in the middle of texting you – and he asked if he could have my number. I started laughing – I didn’t think he was being serious – but he kept asking, and I just kind of… panicked. I didn’t want to seem rude, so I… I ended up giving it to him.’
‘You didn’t want to seem rude?’ Stevie was staring at her incredulously.
‘I know it sounds pathetic,’ Debbie floundered. ‘My mind went blank. Then he called my phone so that I had his number, and made me put his name in…’ she trailed off, looking guiltily at the phone in her lap. Every admission sounded worse than the last.
‘So what does he mean by “a repeat of last week”? That sounds like more than polite conversation to me.’
‘I don’t know! Nothing happened, I swear.’
Stevie was shaking his head. ‘Something doesn’t add up here. Why didn’t you just say no, or give out a fake number? Did you want him to call you, is that what it was?’
‘No, not at all! Everything happened so fast, and I was a bit bewildered to be honest. I’m not used to… Well, I didn’t quite realise what had happened until it was all over. I didn’t know what to do, or say, so I just grabbed my phone and the prosecco and scuttled back to the girls.’
‘And then I bet you had a good old laugh about it, didn’t you? Telling the girls how you’d just been chatted up.’
‘It wasn’t like that,’ Debbie protested weakly, but Stevie was uncomfortably close to the truth. Then something occurred to her. ‘Why were you going through my phone anyway?’ she demanded, suddenly taking the moral high ground.
Stevie shook his head in disbelief. ‘I wasn’t. The text came through and it popped up on the screen. Anyone sending messages to my fiancée that start with “Hey hot stuff” kind of catches my attention, you know?’
‘Whatever,’ Debbie muttered, knowing she was in the wrong, and unable to think of a better response.
Stevie stopped pacing, staring hard at her. ‘You’ve changed, you know that? And I don’t just mean physically.’
There was a beat of silence as Debbie took in what he’d just said. ‘I know what this is about,’ she burst out. ‘You’re jealous! Jealous that for once another man found me attractive, and you can’t handle that.’
‘Of course I’m jealous,’ Stevie laughed incredulously. ‘What man wouldn’t be? You think I’m happy that you’re getting sex texts from another bloke? You want me to say, “Congratulations Debs, you’re looking incredible recently, now get out there and start flirting with other men”?’
‘Why can’t you be happy for me? You know how hard I’ve been working, how much effort I’ve put into trying to lose weight. I reckon you preferred me when I was just a fat blimp hiding in the corner, then you didn’t have to worry about anyone else fancying me.’
‘Oh, don’t be so ridiculous. I’ve been incredibly supportive to you. I’ve put up with months of you going on and on about how many calories you’ve eaten, and how you don’t want to go for a nice meal anywhere because it’s off the diet plan, and you don’t want to cuddle up and watch a film because you’ve got Zumba class instead. I’ve lived off lentils and salads and kale to try and support you and I haven’t complained once, because I know how important this is to you. And the first chance you get, you get all dressed up and hand out your phone number to some random guy in a bar. Well thanks Debs, thanks a lot.’
Stevie was breathing heavily, and Debbie looked close to tears. Scamp had curled up on his bed in the corner, and let out a low whine.
Debbie opened her mouth to reply, but at that moment the doorbell rang, the noise seeming to echo in the silence. Scamp jumped up, barking excitedly as he rushed to the front door.
‘Oh no, who’s that?’ Debbie groaned. She really couldn’t handle seeing anyone right now.
‘That’ll be your surprise,’ Stevie told her, his eyebrows raised accusingly.
Another wave of shame washed over Debbie. Fifteen minutes earlier, she’d been overwhelmed with excitement about what Stevie had planned for her, and now they were having a blazing argument.
‘I can’t answer the door, I’m still in my towel.’
Stevie shrugged. ‘I thought that was your new thing – wearing skimpy clothes and chatting up strangers. Maybe it’ll be the postman, or the delivery guy. You can let your towel slip a little, hand out your number…’
‘Sod off,’ Debbie shot back, stung by his comments.
The doorbell rang again, three times in succession, and Debbie let out a cry of frustration.
‘Go answer it,’ Stevie told her. ‘It doesn’t matter what you’re wearing.’
Debbie stomped off down the hallway, clutching her towel tightly around her. Behind the frosted glass, she could make out two shadowy figures, then she heard the sound of familiar giggling. Opening the door just a crack, she peered round to see Julia and Angela standing on the doorstep.
‘Surprise!’ they grinned.
‘What’s going on?’
‘Let us in and we’ll tell you. It’s freezing out here!’ Julia was wearing a cute bobble hat, and rubbing her hands together to keep them warm.
Debbie stood back as the two women tumbled into the house, fussing over Scamp as he jumped up at them, demanding attention.
‘You could have at least made sure she was dressed, Stevie,’ Angela chastised him, as she followed Debbie through to the living room.
Stevie smiled tightly. ‘We got somewhat… distracted.’
‘Ew, I don’t want to know!’ Angela giggled, not picking up on the strained atmosphere.
‘Right, well, I’ll leave you ladies to it. Have a good day, Debbie,’ Stevie said awkwardly, giving her a formal peck on the cheek. He strode out of the room and they heard the sound of his feet on the stairs, followed by the spare room
door slamming shut.
‘What’s going on?’ Julia whispered. She and Angela were looking at one another, panic-stricken.
‘We just had a bit of an argument. Bad timing,’ Debbie grimaced. ‘I’ll explain it all later. Anyway, what’s going on? Why are you here?’
‘Oh, Deb,’ Angela was looking at her sympathetically. ‘You two never argue! Well don’t worry, we’re here to whisk you off for the day, and make it all better.’
In spite of herself, Debbie felt a tingle of excitement. ‘Why? Where are we going?’
‘Well, Ange and I got chatting at nursery,’ Julia explained, ‘And we thought that as you’ve been doing so well with the weight loss, you deserved a treat.’
‘But not a day off,’ Angela added. ‘We don’t want you to break your diet, and we wanted to do something that would motivate you to keep going so—’
‘So we talked to Stevie and we came up with the idea of taking you to a spa,’ Julia finished gleefully. ‘We’ve got you a personal training session in the gym, then we can use the pool and the sauna—’
‘And we’re finishing off with hot stone massages for all of us,’ Angela took over, wresting the conversation back from Julia. ‘Oh, and in the middle of it all there’s a healthy, low calorie yet delicious lunch being prepared for us in the restaurant.’
Debbie’s face was a whole mixture of emotions, from excitement and gratitude to confusion and bewilderment.
‘But… I’m not even dressed yet!’
‘Exactly. You’ve got ten minutes to get some clothes on and dry your hair, or else we’re leaving without you,’ Julia threatened.
‘That sounds amazing, thank you so much!’ Debbie beamed at the two of them, throwing her arms around them before bolting for the stairs.
‘Oh, and one more thing…’
The sound of Angela’s voice stopped Debbie in her tracks, and she turned back round. ‘Yeah?’
‘Don’t forget your swimming cossie!’
22
‘I like everything about marriage but the hours’ – Peter De Vries
‘That guy texted you?’ Angela squealed incredulously.
‘And Stevie saw it? Oh no, what a mess,’ Julia sighed, not taking her eyes off the road as she drove along the busy country roads.
In the passenger seat beside her, Debbie put her head in her hands and groaned. ‘If I ever see that bloke again, I’m going to kill him. Seriously, how arrogant can you be?’
‘Let me see,’ Angela demanded from the back seat, as Debbie shifted round and handed over her phone.
‘“Let’s see if I can get that ring off your finger”,’ Angela quoted, making a retching sound. ‘Gross. So he knew you were engaged and everything? What a twat.’
‘But surely Stevie knows nothing happened,’ said Julia, as Debbie shrugged.
‘I hope so. I think it brought up a whole load of other stuff about me losing weight and him struggling to adjust. I mean, I’m struggling to adjust, so I don’t know what it’s like for Stevie. And I’ve never really had a lot of male attention, so this is weird – neither of us have had to deal with that before.’
‘It’s probably making him really insecure,’ Angela agreed. ‘But that’s good! It’ll keep him on his toes, make him work a bit harder.’
‘But he doesn’t need to do that! I love him, just the way he is. He doesn’t need to start buying me presents or fulfilling my every whim, because he thinks I’m going to cheat on him if he doesn’t.’
‘That’s so sweet,’ Julia cooed. ‘Ooh, look, here we are.’
The three women fell silent as Julia hit the indicator and they pulled off the main road, driving through the impressive entrance gates of Ashworth Park. It was a former private country house, now converted into a hotel and spa, with a beautiful neoclassical facade and acres of rolling parkland.
‘Oh, it looks amazing,’ Debbie breathed.
‘Shame we’re not staying overnight,’ Julia mused. ‘But we can always come back. I wouldn’t mind checking out their event facilities.’
‘Maybe this would be a good venue for your hen do, Debs,’ Angela suggested. ‘In fact, you should think of today as your practice hen – you know, a trial run at getting drunk and talking about Stevie. Just to make sure you can do it.’
‘Thanks very much,’ Debbie giggled. ‘I’ll try my best.’
The spa was in a separate building to the main house, in a conversion of the old stable block, and Julia drove carefully up the long driveway, following signs to the car park.
‘Let the games begin,’ Angela winked, as the car pulled to a stop and the three women eagerly climbed out.
* * *
An hour later, Debbie was red, sweaty and in severe amounts of pain.
‘I don’t know if I can do this,’ she panted. Her limbs were pushed to breaking point, and her face was the colour of beetroot, which clashed terribly with the T-shirt she was wearing. It was bright pink and read ‘Slimming Down for the Gown!’; Julia and Angela had presented her with it in the changing room.
‘Ouch, that hurts! I didn’t even know I had muscles there!’
On the treadmills, Julia and Angela were speed-walking as they watched Debbie and giggled unsympathetically. She was currently being put through her paces on the mats in front of them by a very attractive personal trainer called Matt. He had blond hair, and a ridiculously toned body, and right now he was squatting down in front of Debbie, encouraging her to plank.
‘Come on, Debs, it’s easy,’ Angela called out, as Julia unsuccessfully tried to stifle her laughter.
‘No… it’s… not,’ Debbie managed through gritted teeth.
‘Careful, Debbie, don’t break that line,’ Matt warned, placing a hand gently on her back to remind her of the correct posture.
Debbie was face down, raised up a few inches off the floor, her hands clenched together as she supported her weight on her forearms and toes. It looked simple enough, but it felt agonising.
‘Give me ten more seconds, Debbie, you’re doing so well,’ Matt encouraged her.
Debbie couldn’t speak; she grunted in reply, sweat dripping from her forehead.
‘Eight… nine… nine and a half,’ Matt counted with a grin. ‘Ten.’
‘Urrrgh,’ Debbie dropped to the mat with a disturbing noise. ‘That… is the hardest thing… I’ve ever done,’ she gasped.
‘Seriously, you did a great job,’ Matt assured her. ‘You’ve got some really impressive muscle tone and strength. You killed it on the cross-trainer.’
‘Thanks,’ Debbie replied, slowly getting her breath back. In spite of everything, she did feel proud of herself. She could really tell that her stamina and fitness levels had increased over the past couple of months; now she could jog up the stairs, whereas once it had been an effort, and she actively looked forward to taking the dog for long walks, rather than a short spin round the block.
‘And now we’ll run through some stretches, so you won’t feel too sore tomorrow,’ Matt said authoritatively. ‘So if you sit up straight, and take your arm across your body…’
He led her through a series of moves, easing out the tired muscles and slowing her heart rate. To Debbie’s surprise, she felt energised rather than exhausted, and the ache in her limbs was a satisfying one. Matt had taken her through a tough cardio workout on the cross-trainer and exercise bike, before toning on the weights, finishing with core work on the mats. Julia and Angela had remained at a safe distance, half-heartedly working out and offering encouragement – with occasional mickey-taking.
When they were finally done, Debbie shook out her hands and feet, her whole body tingling. She knew she looked awful, but she felt fantastic.
‘Great work,’ Matt grinned, as Julia and Angela came across to join them. ‘And good luck with the wedding. That fiancé of yours is a lucky man,’ he winked.
Debbie felt the colour rise in her cheeks, making her even redder than she’d been before. Thank goodness Stevie wasn’t around to hear Mat
t’s comment, she thought, recalling this morning’s argument and feeling guilty all over again. Were Julia and Angela right? Was this something she was going to have to get used to from now on? Debbie had never been one of those girls – the ones who men flirted with, and chatted up, and bought drinks for in the hope of a cheeky snog at the end of the night. She wasn’t sure that she wanted to be one of those girls either – she was more than happy with her Stevie.
‘Thanks Matt,’ she mumbled, scuttling off to the changing rooms, as Julia and Angela followed behind, exchanging knowing looks.
* * *
‘Ohhhh, that feels good,’ Debbie groaned, exhaling slowly as she spread a fluffy towel over the wooden slatted benches of the sauna and lay down. The hot, dry air wrapped itself around her, relaxing her weary body.
The three women had the sauna to themselves, and were making the most of it after their busy day. They’d just been in the pool, having a leisurely swim up and down before chilling out in the Jacuzzi. Now they were gossiping in the sauna, and the conversation had turned to weddings.
‘So how’s it all going?’ Angela asked, her head lolling lazily to look across at Debbie. ‘Is everything organised?’
‘All of the big things are done – the venue, photographer, florist, cake, invitations,’ Debbie reeled off. ‘All thanks to Julia. She’s been brilliant at sorting everything out.’
Julia shrugged modestly. ‘It’s what I do.’
‘I still need to book the entertainment for the evening do. I’m worried I’m leaving it quite late, but we’re not sure what we want yet – a DJ or a band or our iPods on shuffle… Then there’s all the little bits to do nearer the time, like sorting out the place names and the decorations, and finalising the seating plan.’
‘Well, I’ll definitely be there,’ Angela insisted.
‘You’d better be,’ Debbie grinned, as she eased herself over to throw some more water onto the coals. It gave a satisfying hiss and an instant hit of heat flooded the sauna. ‘And will you be bringing Mitch? Or will you have moved on by then?’
