James picked up his briefcase and leaned over her. She raised her lips to his but he kissed her on the forehead and she felt a little sting of rejection. They had been together for only six months and he was kissing her on the forehead. She felt as drained as if she had been living with him for years, having birthed and brought up his children.
‘Don’t wait up,’ said James.
‘Surely you’re not going to be that late, are you?’ gasped Lara with some horror.
‘I hope not, but you never know,’ replied James with a loaded sigh. ‘See you later, darling. I’ll grab something at Waterloo so don’t bother to make any dinner for me.’
And with that he was off, with his rubbish kiss and his ‘Don’t wait up’. Did he really have a meeting with boring bankers? That was her first thought as the door closed.
Oh God, Lara, a voice strangled with impatience said inside her head. Stop with this paranoia. You’re being ridiculous. James is living with YOU. He didn’t live with Chloe, he didn’t live with Rachel, he most certainly didn’t live with Tianne – but he HAS chosen to live with you. Get over yourself.
Oi, you, said a countering rough Yorkshire voice. You can’t blame her for being a bit of a fruit loop. Not after the luck she’s had with blokes. Give her a break.
Fair point, said the first voice. But let’s try to keep things in perspective, shall we? We don’t want to encourage any self-fulfilling prophecies now, do we?
Lara heard Keely’s door creak open upstairs. Time to go to work, she decided, before she came face to face with the world’s biggest spoon and heard even more words to torture herself with.
Her mood was glum as she caught the train to work. Her department was having a refit so she and her team were temporarily crammed into the grotty windowless basement of the massive Cole and Craw Financial Institute building which was chilly and had rubbish overhead lighting. This just added to the increasing hatred she felt for the job she had once loved. She should never have taken the lucrative promotion that had been dangled in front of her face. Without the promotion she would have stayed happy in her old position and wouldn’t have had to work directly for Giles Billingley, the three-chinned chauvinistic pig who thought women should be paid less, fetch the tea and not object when he stroked their bottom. It was going to be good to be away from the dirty old bastard creep for a fortnight. She couldn’t even find some respite at work from her less-than-perfect home life because, as atmospheres go, they were each as bad as the other. A weekend at home being continually on edge wore her down as much as two days in the office. Recently Kristina had been in a worse mood than usual, complaining about how many dried bogeys she’d had to remove from underneath any surface in the house to which they would adhere. Not forgetting the walls, where the charming Garth would flick them.
The black cloud above Lara’s head followed her into the lift and down to her make-do office and stayed stubbornly with her as she sat at her desk and logged onto her computer. She’d had such high hopes for this relationship and yet she saw James less now they were living together than when they had separate houses. Something was happening to them. Or was it someone?
Against her own better judgement, Lara logged onto her Facebook account. She had set it up years ago when a friend had emigrated, as a way of keeping in touch, but they never really had so it had lain dormant, until she logged on to look up Tianne after having that name shoved down her throat by Keely on a regular basis. Tianne’s timeline was full of exciting singles’ events worthy of a chick-lit book: theatre trips, festivals, holidays in hot climes, cocktails in a variety of European venues. In every one of her photos, Tianne was posed smiling at the camera with her white teeth, wild dark curls and a practised pout of a mouth. It was very evident that no one could ever find Tianne Lee as wonderful as she found herself.
Tianne was a newly fledged solicitor working for a very prestigious firm in the City. She was, it seemed, the woman with everything: flashy job, flashy car, flashy wage – everything except a boyfriend. Her status was still showing her as single. There had been quite a few entries since the last time Lara had spied on her, and some more photos added. Again that Simon Cowell-type, white-toothed smiling pose against backdrops of the Eiffel Tower, the Moulin Rouge, a casino in Las Vegas and even some of her standing outside the Old Bailey in a pinstriped suit.
Thanks for all my birthday cards and messages.
That was the last entry on the timeline – yesterday. Small lettering said there were comments about that post, and Lara scrolled down to read the conversation between a friend called Aleisha and Tianne.
Did you do anything nice for your birthday at the weekend, darling?
That would be telling.
Tell me then.
Met a friend for dinner and cocktails ;).
Cocktails or COCKtails?
Both. More when I see you.
Lara forced herself to log out and stop her lurid imaginings. Two working days to go until her holiday. Maybe a good blast of sea air would blow all those ridiculous, head-rotting pictures of Tianne out to sea where they could get eaten by a passing shark.
Chapter 10
May’s lovely dream was pierced by the sound of her alarm clock. She and Michael had been alone on a deserted beach. They were cuddled up on a double sunbed, the sun warm on her back, the only sound the swishing of waves ebbing and flowing. Suddenly it was five twenty in the morning and Michael’s heavy arm draped over her made it doubly hard to get up. She pressed the snooze button, then snuggled close to him for five more delicious minutes. Michael started to stroke the small of her back, then his hand dipped to her buttocks. She knew he wanted to make love. He was always ready for sex in the mornings. His appetite must have been enormous when he was much younger and newly married to Susan, May suddenly mused. That thought of him in bed with Susan brought a big wave of jealousy splashing over her even though she knew she had a cheek, seeing as that woman was still his wife.
Grudgingly she lifted his arm and slid from underneath it just as the alarm went off again.
‘Michael,’ she said as she kissed him. ‘Michael, I can’t. I’ve got an early meeting.’
‘Spoilsport.’
May chuckled. ‘I know.’
‘Morning, darling,’ he said. ‘Wow.’
May was standing there naked, looking for her underwear in the drawer.
‘Come back to bed and let’s make love.’
Thousands of fizzy beads of excitement bubbled inside May at the thought of that. If she weren’t so conscientious she might have been tempted to take a day off sick, for the first time ever. Monday morning had never felt more like a Monday morning. Having sex with the man she loved was a much more exciting prospect than having a meeting in Clapham and then doing a presentation to a boss who would be hell-bent on finding holes in her plans because he was the envious, talentless little shit of a nephew of the MD.
‘I know, I know,’ said Michael. ‘A nice idea, but we have work to do.’
‘Where do you have to go today?’
‘Derby,’ said Michael.
‘Derby? Again? You were there on Saturday and most of yesterday, weren’t you?’
‘Big client – needs lots of attention, darling.’
‘Do these people not realize that you might have a life at weekends?’ May huffed angrily on his behalf. ‘Who wants to talk paper on a Sunday?’
‘You’d be surprised how many workaholics like to do exactly that. Thank goodness it’s just the one customer, then I can come home and . . .’ His voice tailed off sadly.
May slipped her knickers on quickly then rushed to put her arms around Michael. It was Susan’s birthday today. He would take her flowers and sit by her side and talk to her about what they should have been doing: having a meal in a nice restaurant, watching a show, staying in a plush hotel afterwards. May wished she had never agreed to go on holiday with her friends. Michael needed her far more than they did. She should be with him. But when push came to shove, sh
e just couldn’t bring herself to let them down.
Michael’s hands moved to fondle her breasts. ‘Oh, May, you are lovely,’ he said. ‘I’m so glad I found you. I’m so happy you’re in my life. I think I’d have topped myself if I didn’t have you.’
May kissed his head and wished she could tumble back into bed with this sexy, tortured man. Michael started stroking her nipple and she had to pull away, even though she really didn’t want to. She was already going to be hot and bothered on the Tube thinking about what might have ensued had she given in.
His smile said he knew exactly what effect he was having on her.
‘I love you so much,’ she said.
‘I know you do,’ he said. ‘I’m a very lucky man.’
Chapter 11
Clare closed the box of cleaning materials that sat beside her suitcase. She had two full days left to work, then she had ten wonderful days at the spa, and after that she would hit the ground running with her new job. Longer hours – as if she could do many more; greater responsibility – as if she hadn’t enough already. But it would all be worth it for that note she had heard in her parents’ voices on Saturday morning. She had replayed that conversation back to herself so many times over the weekend. It had made up her mind for her. She knew what she had to do and she would be doing it in her lunch hour today. She was meeting Ludwig in Covent Garden at twelve. He would be flying to Dubai that evening.
As she was thinking this, a tinkle on her phone heralded a text from him.
Can’t wait to see you for lunch xxx
Oh God, that wasn’t helping. He didn’t know what he was in for. She wished it were one o’clock now and she was back in the office with the lunch behind her.
The morning at work dragged, as she knew it would. The clock hands crawled around to lunchtime. Ludwig was waiting for her in the restaurant with two glasses of champagne already ordered and on the table. He stood up and kissed her, not noticing that she turned her head slightly so his mouth landed more on her cheek than on her lips. He handed her a glass of champagne, lifted his own and chinked it against hers.
‘I’ve got some pictures of the apartment,’ said Lud, digging in his jacket pocket. He straightened out the sheets of paper and handed them over to Clare. ‘I thought they might tempt you, even though I promised myself that I wouldn’t pressurize you,’ and he winked.
‘Wow,’ she said, meaning it. Spacious and cream-coloured, big bouncy sofas and an open-plan arrangement with, since it was a corner apartment, two full walls of windows letting in the light. There was a view of the sun-sparkled Dubai sea in the near distance. The sight of those blue waters nearly had her throwing away her life as she knew it and promising to go with Lud. Clare loved the sea; she loved the smell of it, the feel of the cold salty water against her skin, the sensation of slipping underneath it and disappearing into another world. Dubai and that sea could be her home for two years. Everything she loved – space, sun, sea . . . Was she mad turning it down?
‘That’s the apartment right there to the le—’
Then Lud’s phone rang again and his attention shifted away from her.
Oh Lud, it looks gorgeous, it really does and half of me wants to go with you so badly, but the other half knows I can’t. I can’t miss this opportunity to be the angel at the top of the family tree for once. I can’t be second best any more. To you or anyone.
‘I shall be back home on the day you return from the holiday with your friends,’ he said. ‘Let’s toast that the time until then will fly.’ He drank, she didn’t. Clare replaced her glass on the table.
‘Lud, I think we should split up.’
His lips paused on the glass.
‘We can’t have a long-distance relationship; we’d just be delaying the inevitable. We wouldn’t survive it.’
‘Other people manage,’ said Ludwig, putting his glass down. He looked calm, but she had totally knocked him off balance, she knew.
‘I’ve been thinking . . . your change of job happening at the same time as my promotion is fate, Lud,’ said Clare, pushing down on those feelings of protest which were trying to rise within her. ‘You need someone who will support you and give you a family, someone to work for and look after. I’m not that woman.’
‘Are you sure, Clare? Can you put your hand on your heart and say that you are taking this position because you want it?’ His words were gentle, almost a whisper, and yet they plunged into her chest and straight through the centre of her heart.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I can say that. I am sure.’
‘We can make this work, Liebling.’
Clare took a deep breath.
‘I don’t want to.’
She watched him gulp hard.
‘I see.’
‘I love you but I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t give my job everything I had. I have to. And, let’s face it, your work is your priority too.’
‘You’re my priority,’ he said firmly.
‘No, I’m not,’ replied Clare. ‘I can’t remember the last time we had a conversation for longer than five minutes without your phone coming between us.’ Lud opened up his mouth to answer and Clare held up her hand to stop him. ‘You don’t have to apologize or explain, Lud. I know how it is. This is your golden moment and you must take it and this is my golden moment and I must take it. You can go to Dubai this evening as a free man. And concentrate on your job without the distraction of me.’
‘There is more to my life than work, Clare,’ he said, shock evident in his voice that she could think otherwise.
‘Is there?’ she replied. ‘I don’t feel there is any more.’ She didn’t say that she felt ever-so-slightly bored too. She didn’t say that she heard girls in the office talking about saucy encounters and wishing she had some to report of her own. She could let him go kindly without grinding his face into the dirt.
‘It’s okay,’ he said, reaching over and closing his warm hand over hers. ‘I understand. It’s you who needs to focus on your job without the distraction of me.’
Clare sighed guiltily. This was horrible. She sounded like a right hard cow.
The waiter arrived at their side to take their order.
‘Do you want to eat?’ asked Lud. Clare’s lowered head moved slowly from side to side.
‘Just the champagne,’ Lud told the waiter. ‘If you could bring me the bill, thank you.’
‘I’m sorry,’ said Clare.
‘Don’t be,’ replied Lud. ‘You’ve worked hard. You deserve your moment in the spotlight. I know how important it is to you.’
And he did. Over the years Lud had witnessed the many achievements of Toby and Alice Salter eclipsing everything that Clare did. How could he deny her the fifteen minutes of family fame?
The waiter brought over the bill. Lud gave it a cursory glance and then replaced it on the plate with some notes from his wallet.
‘I hope you’re really happy in Dubai,’ said Clare, fighting back the emotion that had lodged like a hard lump in her gullet. ‘I hope you find what you’re looking for.’
‘I had found it,’ he said. ‘Can I get you a taxi back to work?’
‘No, I’ll sit here for a bit and then take the Tube.’
Lud leaned over her and kissed her head, his hand curving tenderly around her arm.
‘Goodbye,’ he said. ‘It’s been fun.’
‘I hope we can still stay friends,’ said Clare, almost desperately, not wanting to let go now that she had separated them, but feeling that she had pushed him too far away to reach for again.
He nodded gallantly, like an old-fashioned soldier, then she watched his broad back cut through the crowd of café customers until it had disappeared totally from sight. As she followed him with her eyes, she did not realize that in his pocket lay the Tiffany engagement ring which he was going to present to her over lunch.
Finished, gone, just like that. All those years of togetherness ended with just a few words. Now she was free to concentrate on being the fa
mily superstar for the first time in her life. The Salter runt who was clever but never managed the genius heights of her smart-arse siblings had finally managed to outshine their achievements. And Ludwig could go and conquer the world and find himself a woman that he would ignore his phone for. The thought that he might sent the tears tumbling down her cheeks and onto the pristine white tablecloth.
Chapter 12
May’s meeting in Clapham at nine that morning was with a man trying to set up a wholefood restaurant. She arrived at half-past eight to find Mr Terry waiting for her, an enthusiastic smile plastered all over his face. She reckoned he would be onto a winner too. He was so keen to get started, the property was ideal, the plans he had to renovate it were simple, cheap but effective ones, and his menu looked fantastic. She envied his passion for his work and his self-employed status, answering to no one but himself. May loved her job; she just hated all the rubbish that came with it: namely reporting to a man who didn’t seem to have a clue what he was doing. He had all the management skills of a dead squirrel. Thank God he escaped to a golf course as often as he did and left everyone to get on with it.
May had allowed the full morning for the meeting but was done and dusted by just after half-past ten. She didn’t want to get back to the office too early so took herself off to a café near the park. The waitress brought over a frothy cappuccino and a millionaire’s shortbread which, disappointingly, had a very unbuttery base and not enough chocolate topping. As she was staring out of the window, May’s eyes zoomed in on the building opposite, a grand old house almost hidden behind a high brick wall and tall trees. There was a sign at the side of the gate which she could just make out: The Pines. Her heart started to thump faster. Was it The Pines, the one in which Susan Hammerton resided? It had to be. Michael had said it was in the Clapham area and surely there couldn’t be two establishments around here with the same name.
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