Chapter Fifty Six
Dawn leant back against Barry’s sofa. He was sitting next to her. Holding her hand. And now he was about to lean in and kiss her.
Dawn had ignored the butterflies in her stomach as she’d stood outside Barry Hastings’ apartment block. Despite the nerves, in a perverse way she’d been looking forward to this meeting. As she’d put her finger on the intercom button, she’d wondered if Barry Hastings would look as good as his photograph. Seconds later the intercom had crackled.
‘Hello?’ The voice had been deep and melodious.
‘Hello Barry. It’s Dawn.’
‘Hi! Come on up.’
The automatic door had released. Seconds later Dawn had stepped inside. For a moment she’d stood inside the lobby getting her bearings. There had been three doors around her. No lift. Straight ahead was a sweeping staircase with ornate rails. Very posh. From somewhere above a door had opened. Sounds had floated down the stairwell. Barry’s apartment was 2A. Next floor up. Dawn had taken a deep breath and headed up the stairs. At the top had stood a man so devastatingly good looking, she’d nearly fallen off her killer heels. Dawn had clutched the banister rail for support. Barry Hastings’ profile picture didn’t begin to do him justice.
‘Dawn!’ Barry had stepped forward as she reached the landing. ‘How lovely to meet you again.’
Dawn had given what she’d hoped was a smile of recognition. ‘You haven’t changed a bit.’
Barry had grinned broadly. ‘Forgive me Dawn. I still don’t remember you. But never mind. Let’s get re-acquainted. Welcome to my humble abode.’
And he’d led her into the hallway of his tasteful minimalist apartment. Dinner had been keeping warm on a low oven setting. But Barry had suggested leaving it for a moment or two. So they’d sipped champagne from crystal flutes while she’d tried to instigate talk about the good old days. But Dawn had barely been able to concentrate. She’d felt as though bindweed was tugging at her. Pulling her closer to Barry. And then Barry had invited her to sit down. She had sunk into the depths of a squashy leather sofa. He had sat next to her. There’d been a few more sips of champagne. But no talk. Instead they’d just sat there gazing at each other. He’d taken her hand. She’d leant back. And now, here he was gently moving towards her. She’d been in his apartment barely five minutes. It had been so easy. Like taking candy from a baby. The heartbreakers always were the easiest to seduce. And Dawn knew with every quivering nerve ending that Barry had a history. But it didn’t matter. Right now she was going to rescue Si’s marriage and enjoy herself in the process.
Dawn closed her eyes and surrendered herself to Barry’s mouth. It was warm. His kiss was sensuous. She wound her arms round his neck. His fingers tangled in her hair and it tumbled down. And that wasn’t the only thing that came down. Down went the zip on Dawn’s PVC dress. Down came Barry’s trousers. Dawn’s eyes roved over Barry’s body. His skin was golden brown from a recent foreign sun. He was in great shape. Despite being in his forties, he had a washboard stomach and well defined pecs. Dawn automatically sucked her tummy in.
‘Come on gorgeous,’ Barry held out a hand. ‘I might have known you for all of five minutes, but I have a feeling I’m going to spend the rest of my life with you.’
Dawn threw back her head and laughed. Not only was he a rotter, he was a smooth talking bastard as well. How amusing. ‘Where are you taking me?’
‘To my bedroom of course,’ Barry guided Dawn out of the lounge and down a short hallway, ‘to spread you out on sheets of silk.’ He pushed open a door. ‘Well, cotton actually,’ Barry grinned disarmingly and led her over to a vast bed.
Dawn wondered exactly how much action this particular bed had seen. Barry tossed scatter cushions onto the floor and flung back the covers. The cotton almost crackled with freshness. Dawn noted this. He’d obviously planned on seducing Steph. Typical bad boy. And now he was once again taking her in his arms, his mouth finding hers. Even though Dawn had sussed Barry out, she couldn’t get away from the peculiar feeling that being with him felt right. She wasn’t usually given to fanciful imaginings. But a part of her felt...like she was coming home. How odd. Together they tumbled onto the bed and for a while Dawn was lost.
Eventually Barry propped himself up on one elbow. ‘I’ve known you barely one hour. And I’ve fallen in love.’
Dawn smiled. ‘You don’t have to flatter me Barry. I’m a bit long in the tooth for sweet talk or romantic games.’
Barry put a hand up to stop her. ‘I’m utterly serious Dawn. I don’t know where you’ve truly come from, because I don’t believe for one moment you went to Blackfen Primary. But I don’t care. All I know is that you are the woman I’ve been waiting all my life to meet. And if I have to spend the rest of my days proving that to you, so be it.’
Dawn felt bewildered. Barry Hastings sounded completely sincere.
‘But right now,’ Barry smiled, ‘I’m absolutely starving. Let’s have dinner.’
Dawn made to get up.
‘No. Stay right there. We’ll have it in bed.’
Dawn giggled. ‘Okay. Dinner in bed it is. Don’t be long lover boy.’
‘Two minutes,’ Barry winked, ‘and then–’
But Dawn didn’t know what else Barry was going to say because at precisely that moment there was a knock on the apartment’s door.
Chapter Fifty Seven
Steph stood outside Number 2A and waited for the door to Barry Hastings’ apartment to open. She couldn’t quite believe she was here.
Steph had felt out of sorts all day. Even though she had told herself that nothing was going to happen with Barry Hastings, she knew going to his apartment was tantamount to playing with fire. Losing her mobile phone had compounded the feeling of edginess. And as for the whereabouts of her laptop. Well, that had just about finished her off. Clearly Steph was losing not just her marriage but her marbles as well. Her mind trailed back to Si. The look on his face when he’d seen the new underwear on the bed. Steph hung her head in shame. It was all very well insisting she’d bought flashy underwear for her own self-esteem. But in truth her conscience had pricked. Ooh I say, it had taunted as she’d fingered the purple satin and black lace. Why are you buying this Stephanie Garvey? Is it some sort of insurance? Just in case any shenanigans take place? So that you’re not caught out in your usual sock-grey stuff with the overstretched elastic? Steph had irritably pushed the nagging thoughts away. She didn’t want to examine the psychology of buying sexy underwear for the evening ahead. An evening in the home and company of a man who wasn’t her husband.
From the moment Steph had left 42 Jessamine Terrace, her conscience had not let up. She’d walked to the bus stop. And nearly headed back. She’d arrived at the train station. And almost turned around. When she’d stood outside the apartment block’s communal door, she’d finally made up her mind. She was definitely going home. And then she’d spotted the pub next door. She’d decided to have a drink. Purely for medicinal purposes. Something to combat her jelly legs. And then she would retrace her steps to the station. Steph had ordered a double brandy. She’d tossed the drink down, enjoying the sensation of fire as it hit her belly. A minute or two later, her nerves had steadied. Walking past Barry’s apartment block, she’d hesitated. Once again she’d stood outside the communal door, dithering whether to press the button for 2A. Eventually she’d become aware of a person standing behind her. Turning, she’d come face to face with a grumpy old man.
‘Are you going in or not?’ he’d snapped.
‘Oh!’ Startled, Steph had taken a step back. She’d promptly trodden on the old boy’s foot. It hadn’t endeared her to him. ‘I’m so sorry. Here, let me–’
‘Young lady! Will you kindly move out the way?’
The old man had sucked on his false teeth, muttering oaths under his breath. Steph had shifted to one side. The pensioner had produced a key. Shuffling forward, he’d paused.
‘In or out?’
‘Gosh, I, er, w
ell–’
‘For goodness sake young woman,’ the old boy had huffed, ‘do make up your mind!’
‘In.’ And Steph had scampered into the lobby.
The old man had creaked over to a door on the left. For a moment Steph had stood there, gazing uncertainly around. Barry’s apartment was obviously on the second floor. She’d looked at the staircase for almost five minutes, deliberating whether to go up or not. But in the end she had. And now she was here. Despite her procrastination, it wasn’t quite eight o’clock. Steph nervously smoothed her denim skirt and waited for a response to her knock.
There was a sound of movement from within.
‘Just a moment,’ a voice called.
Barry’s voice. Steph felt herself relaxing slightly. She imagined Barry inside, flustered as he flapped about in a cloud of steam. Saucepans hissing on the hob. Maybe flicking on the extractor fan. Giving a last look around the apartment. Nodding in satisfaction that everything looked presentable. But hang on – rushing over to plump that cushion. Nervously swallowing as he now opened the door.
The door inched back a fraction. Barry’s head appeared like a puppet on a stick. Steph’s first impression was that Barry didn’t seem nervous. He did, however, look very confused.
‘Steffy?’
‘Hello darling!’ The brandy had well and truly hit its spot now. Steph felt adequately emboldened to call Barry by the endearment. She pushed past Barry without a second thought, oblivious to the resistance he’d put up against the door. Standing in the hallway she looked around. Nice pad. Very sexy. Very Barry. How ridiculous to have been panicky about coming here! Behind her Barry was shutting the door. She turned to face him, a smile on her face.
‘Gosh!’ Steph exclaimed. Her smile wobbled. Barry was completely starkers. His hands clutched at his private parts in an attempt to cover his modesty.
‘Um, Steffy. You’ve rather caught me on the hop.’
‘Oh I’m so sorry,’ Steph clapped a hand over her eyes. ‘I know I’m a bit early. You go and get dressed. I’ll wait in here.’
Steph pushed against the nearest door, hoping it might be the lounge. It wasn’t. It was a bedroom. With a bed the size of a football pitch. And there, languishing across the rumpled sheets was a woman. A very naked woman. Apart from the sky high stilettos on her feet. She had a horribly familiar face.
‘Hello again,’ said Dawn.
For a moment Steph could only stare. She was aware of her jaw being overcome by gravity. Was this some sort of bad joke?
‘You!’ she spluttered.
Dawn inclined her head. ‘Yes. Me.’
‘B-but, I don’t understand. Why are you here?’
‘I’m here at Barry’s invitation. And we’re just about to have dinner together. Lobster.’ Dawn put one hand to her mouth and kissed her fingers in a gesture of deliciousness. ‘But right now we’re just enjoying some post-coital champagne.’ Dawn raised her glass to Steph. ‘Cheers.’
Steph recovered. She closed her mouth and glared at Dawn.
‘You’ve got some front,’ she snarled.
Dawn looked down at her bare breasts spilling everywhere.
‘Yes. That’s what Barry said.’
Steph swung round to face Barry. ‘My God. No wonder you’ve had six wives you bloody bounder! This is the woman I was telling you about.’
Barry sidled into the bedroom and grabbed a scatter cushion off the floor. ‘Do you two know each other?’ He looked from Dawn to Steph in utter bewilderment.
‘Know her?’ Steph laughed mirthlessly. ‘Not as such. But Si does. Extremely well. This woman is having an affair with my husband.’
‘Now you listen to me lady.’ Dawn made a long arm to the bedside table and put her champagne glass down. She stood up. In her killer heels she towered over Steph. ‘And you listen well. I am not, repeat not, having an affair with your husband. Never have. Never will. And if you have a modicum of sense, you’ll go home and start being a proper wife before somebody else snaps him up.’
Steph opened her mouth to speak but couldn’t find any words. Dawn wasn’t having a fling with Si? She stood there, mouthing like a goldfish, looking from Dawn to Barry. The only thing she knew for sure was that Dawn was most definitely having a fling with Barry.
Steph had to get out of here. The double brandy was threatening to make a comeback all over Barry Hastings’ cream carpet. She spun on her heel and fled into the hall. Yanking open the main door, Steph tore across the landing and clattered down the staircase. At the bottom she nearly cannoned into the grumpy old man who’d made a reappearance.
‘Young lady!’ the old boy chided. ‘You’re going to end up hurting yourself if you’re not careful.’
Steph raced passed him. Too late. She was already hurting. The pain in her chest was indescribable. Steph didn’t know if she was experiencing a coronary or a bad case of heartache. All she knew was it hurt. It hurt like hell.
Chapter Fifty Eight
The moment Steph had disappeared from Si’s line of vision, he had jumped out of the van and trailed her at a discreet distance. Hugging the hedgerow between the pub car park and the communal gardens of the apartment block, Si followed his wife. At the corner of the pub premises, he’d hung back. Peering around a lamp post, he’d watched Steph in conversation with an old man. After an awful lot of dithering, the two of them had walked through the main door.
Si’s dilemma then had been what to do next. Opposite the apartment block were a few houses and a small parade of shops. One of them, a newsagent, had a large glass frontage. It was perfect for watching the main door of Barry Hastings’ apartment block.
Si had stepped off the pavement. Looking left and right, he’d dodged traffic and hurried over to the newsagent. Pushing open the door, an overhead bell had tinkled merrily. Si had casually strolled around the shop floor before positioning himself. And here he’d remained ever since.
A plump Indian lady presided behind the cash till. The shop had two aisles separated by a tall display system of greeting cards and magazines. Standing with his back to the Indian lady, he now appeared to be studying anniversary cards. In reality his eyes were focussed on the communal door opposite. Steph had been inside for ages now. Si wondered anxiously how things were going. What if Dawn had only succeeded in making polite conversation with Barry Hastings? What if they had spent the time so far limping through dinner, struggling for conversation? In which case Barry Hastings might welcome Steph’s interruption. Maybe it would be Dawn, not Steph, coming through that door in due course. At the thought of his plan backfiring, Si clutched the anniversary card to his chest in horror.
The communal door opened and Si’s heart picked up speed. But it was the Grandpa again. He was doddering about, fussing with one of the apartment block’s many mailboxes. Si fingered the anniversary card anxiously.
‘Sir are you buying that card or not?’
The Indian lady’s voice made Si jump.
‘Er, I haven’t decided.’
‘Well while you’re deciding, could you please stop bending it?’
‘Sorry,’ Si looked at the card. ‘I think the words are too flowery in this one.’ He put it back on the shelf and pretended to look at another.
Grandpa had gathered up his post and was now locking the mailbox. He shuffled back to the door and went inside. Si swallowed. The minutes continued to drag. It seemed as though Steph had been gone for an eternity. The anticipation of what may or may not be going on was starting to get to Si. What if Steph had interrupted Dawn and Barry shagging and, instead of being furious, she’d shouted yippee and stripped down to her purple underwear and joined in? Or what if there had been a catfight between Dawn and Steph but Barry Hastings had stepped between them and even now was smugly declaring, ‘Ladies, no arguing please! There’s enough of me for both of you.’
Si massaged his temples. His imagination was running riot. He didn’t really believe that Steph would be up for a threesome. But then again, a week ago he wouldn�
�t have considered it possible that his wife would ever have bought purple and black underwear, never mind be in another man’s apartment. Si was aware that the Indian lady was starting to watch him with suspicion. There was only so long you could stand and stroke greeting cards. He wandered over to the newspapers. Suddenly the communal door flew open. Steph shot through the aperture looking thoroughly distressed. Si’s heart began to race. Whatever had happened, it clearly wasn’t the jolly threesome he’d briefly fretted about. Even from here Si could see his wife was very wild about the eyes. Steph was looking this way and that. Without warning she ran across the road. Car horns sounded angrily. Her hand shot to her mouth. She was crying. And she was heading this way. Si watched in horror. Had she seen him? Now Steph’s hand was reaching for the shop door. Quickly Si picked up a newspaper. The overhead bell jangled alarmingly as Steph burst into the shop. Si flicked open the newspaper and held it up in front of him. He could hear the breath catching in Steph’s throat as she hastened over to the counter.
‘Ten Silk Cut,’ she sobbed.
‘Are you all right dearie?’ asked the Indian lady.
‘F-fine thanks. I’ll have a box of matches too.’
Carefully Si sidled around the display system while Steph fumbled in her handbag for her purse. Her hands were shaking badly. Coins dropped all over the floor. As Steph bent to pick them up, Si risked lowering his newspaper. His wife was bawling her head off now. Great fat tears were rolling down her cheeks. Si felt terrible. It was all his fault Steph was upset. If he hadn’t set Dawn up with Barry Hastings, Steph would be in that apartment over the road, supping champers and sucking on lobster. And probably not just the lobster if Barry Hastings had anything to do with it. Si instantly stopped feeling guilty. He’d done this to save his marriage. He just hoped to God that this evening’s events paid off.
Flings and Arrows Page 21
