Getting over Gary (Whitsborough Bay Trilogy Book 2)

by Jessica Redland

  * To Stevie

  I don’t suppose you fancy

  I shook my head and cancelled the text. Asking him out for a drink? What was I thinking? He’d made it clear he wasn’t interested anymore when he’d fled after seeing the scan.

  I put my Blackberry down and got into bed. I could hear Kay and Philip chatting downstairs plus the occasional burst of laughter. I smiled as I wrapped the duvet round me. Kay had confessed over the weekend that she and Philip were an item. Apparently it had started after the Bay Trade anniversary celebrations, but they’d wanted to keep it quiet while they both adjusted to their first relationship after losing the loves of their lives. They made such a great couple and I was thrilled that Kay had finally decided to let love in after shutting herself off to it for about forty years.

  Listening to another burst of laughter made me realise that I’d completely and utterly outstayed my welcome. Kay would never say anything, but the arrangement was only ever meant to be temporary and I’d already been her lodger for… what? Four-and-a-half months? It had never been that long, had it? I counted on my fingers again, but it really had been. It was time I moved out and found somewhere to start afresh; just bean and me. I had the money from the house sale so there was nothing to stop me. In fact, if I didn’t act fast, I could still be living at Kay’s when baby bean made an appearance, which would definitely be pushing the boundaries of her hospitality.

  House-hunting alone? Scary thought. Gary and I had looked at several properties together and I vividly remembered how useful it had been to have the two perspectives. I couldn’t enlist Sarah or Kay without explaining to them why I was looking for a family home and, with the wedding fast-approaching, I really couldn’t break the news. The timing had gone from bad to appalling.

  There was only one person who could help me. But was it too cheeky? He’d said to let him know if I needed anything and it would be a great excuse to see him again, even if it was only platonically. Before I had time to talk myself out of it, I picked up my Blackberry and typed a message.

  * To Stevie

  Hi again. Please tell me if this is over-stepping the mark, but can I ask you a huge favour? It’s time I moved out, but I’m nervous about house-hunting alone and I can’t enlist anyone without giving up my secret. If I set up some appointments for after school this week and next week, is there any chance you could accompany me & be my voice of reason?

  * From Stevie

  I’d be delighted to. Of course it’s not over-stepping the mark. We’re friends, right? This is the sort of thing friends do for each other. Just text me when you’ve set up any appointments x

  Friends? My heart sank at the affirmation that it was purely platonic. What was done was done. I’d had my chance and I’d blown it.

  ‘It’s nice,’ Stevie said two nights later.

  ‘Nice?’ I raised an eyebrow. ‘Nice is a word you use to describe a puppy or a cake. It’s not the word I’m looking for to describe my future home. What’s wrong with it?’

  ‘It feels a bit… soulless. It’s beautifully decorated, but there’s no character to it. It’s a perfectly functional three-bed semi, but I see you in something older. I don’t think that new-builds are really you.’

  ‘My last house was a new-build.’

  ‘I know, but I think Smuggler’s View suits you better.’

  I pondered for a moment. ‘Do you really think so?’

  Stevie nodded. We took another look in each of the rooms upstairs then returned to the lounge to meet the estate agent.

  ‘What did you think?’ she asked.

  ‘It’s the first one we’ve looked at,’ I said, ‘so I have nothing to compare it to yet, but I’ll let you know.’

  ‘What do you think of property number two?’ I turned in a circle round the kitchen. ‘I like the kitchen. It’s nice.’

  Stevie laughed. ‘Nice?’

  ‘Touché!’

  ‘You’re right, though,’ Stevie said. ‘It’s nice. It’s functional. It’s clean. It’s well decorated…’

  ‘But…?’

  ‘It’s just not you, Elise. As a house, it works perfectly. But as a home…? I just don’t see it as the place of your dreams.’

  I sighed. ‘I’m confused. Let’s go.’

  We sat in Bertie after leaving the second property. ‘Can I ask you a question?’ Stevie said. ‘What made you choose your last house?’

  ‘This is going to sound stupid, but after years of scrimping and saving in rented flats, we went for the biggest property we could afford. I wasn’t too bothered, but I think the status of the big house was important to Gary. I relented, though, because we had no time for DIY so, being new, it ticked all the boxes.’

  ‘Did you enjoy living there?’

  I shrugged. ‘I thought so, but now you’ve got me wondering. What you said about a house versus a home… well, I think it was just a house which was why the loss of the actual property didn’t bother me when I moved out or when the sale went through. It was the loss of what it represented that upset me. Sorting our stuff out was emotional, but again, because of the memories. Since moving out, I’ve missed my marriage, my friendship, and the memories, but never the house.’

  ‘Can I make a suggestion?’ Stevie reached onto the back seat and picked up the wad of new or newish properties I’d selected for viewings. He ripped the pile in half. ‘Why don’t we look at some older properties? You might be surprised.’

  On Monday evening the following week, I had three back-to-back viewings lined up for older houses. We started with a three-storey four-bed end of terrace not too far from Sarah and Nick. It had been beautifully decorated. Period features such as the fireplace and cornices had been restored, yet it had a modern kitchen and family bathroom.

  ‘What do you think?’ I asked Stevie.

  He smiled. ‘It’s much more you. Or at least I think it is. What do you think?’

  ‘It does feel a lot more homely. I’m not sure about the three storeys with a little one, though. I don’t think we’d ever use the top floor, which seems such a waste.’

  Stevie smiled again. ‘You’re starting to think practically and I’ve got another practicality for you. With baby in mind, wouldn’t you prefer off-road parking and a garden?’

  I nodded. ‘You’re absolutely right. What was I thinking? This is why I needed a voice of reason. I’d have been hopeless on my own. I’d have ended up with a house again instead of a home. The next two have gardens and parking. Let’s go.’

  Property two was in a village called Cranton, about ten minutes north of Whitsborough Bay. It was pitched as, ‘A charming cottage, ideal for a family, in need of a little TLC.’

  ‘A little TLC?’ Stevie whistled. ‘Who are they kidding? It needs complete gutting. In fact, it needs knocking down and starting again.’

  As we wandered from room to room, I felt my shoulders sag and a sense of weariness overcome me. ‘It’s a mess,’ I whispered.

  Even the estate agent looked embarrassed. ‘I’ve not actually viewed this particular property before.’ She shuffled some papers together, keeping her eyes cast down. ‘I may have a word with my manager about updating the details when we get back. Of course, the price does reflect the state of the property. You’re getting a lot of property for your money.’

  She was right. It had potential and would make someone an amazing home. But that someone wasn’t me; not on my own with a baby. ‘Sorry, but it’s a no,’ I said to the agent. ‘I work full-time and I’m single. I can’t take on a project like this.’

  ‘You’re disappointed, aren’t you?’ Stevie said as we got back into Bertie and drove towards the final viewing of the evening.

  ‘A little. I really liked the first house, but it’s not at all practical. And the cottage could be amazing, but not for me. However, I have learned one thing.’

  ‘What’s tha
t?’

  ‘You’re right about the older properties. I felt something in each of those houses that I didn’t feel in the newer ones. Thank you.’

  ‘You’re welcome. So what does property three have in store for us?’

  ‘It’s a nineteen-thirties semi that needs a new kitchen and bathroom.’ As soon as I said the words, I knew it had been a mistake to arrange a viewing. I slumped back into my seat. ‘Where’s my head? I have serious pregnancy brain. Do you think we should cancel?’

  ‘It’s a little late to cancel, but I think it’s good to see it anyway. All three houses are different styles so will give you an idea of what you do and don’t like. There’d always be the option of staying at Kay’s while you get the work done if it’s really only the kitchen and bathroom that need tackling. If every room in the house needs decorating, though, you’re back to the project scenario we’ve just seen, which is no good with a baby.’

  We pulled up outside the house. It looked tidy enough from the outside. Stevie took my hand as we walked towards the front door. I liked the feel of my hand in his. It felt comfortable. Natural. Home.

  I didn’t like the house. It reminded me of my Auntie Maud’s. I hadn’t liked her. Like Mother, she’d been a drinker and her house had smelled of whisky, pickled onions, and damp dogs. She didn’t even have a dog. I clung onto Stevie’s hand as an old man showed us around. He told us that he’d lived there for sixty years but his wife had died after Easter and he’d made the decision to move into a home. I didn’t want to live in that house with the air of sadness, death, and memories of my auntie.

  ‘Drink?’ Stevie said as we walked down the drive towards Bertie.

  ‘Yes please.’

  I drove to The White Horse in Little Sandby. ‘I’ve never been in here before,’ I said. ‘Am I right in thinking it’s under new ownership?’

  ‘About eighteen months ago. The new owners are brilliant. They’ve completely refurbished it and turned it around. The last lot drank their profits, I think, and their food was rubbish so they gradually lost all their trade. These two have worked magic.’

  My stomach grumbled loudly.

  ‘Have you eaten?’ Stevie asked.

  ‘Not yet. You?’

  ‘Not since lunch. How about we get some tea and we can plan your next house-hunting move?’

  ‘I haven’t taken enough of your time already this evening? You’re not sick of me yet?’

  Stevie’s eyes took on such a tender look as he said, ‘I could never get sick of you, Elise.’ My legs went a bit wobbly.

  We placed our orders then took a table overlooking the beer garden, which was lit with a combination of spotlights, solar lights and fairy lights. Very pretty.

  I turned my gaze from outdoors to the inside of the pub. ‘It’s nice in here. You’re lucky to have a local like this.’

  ‘I know.’ Stevie smiled. ‘I try to support it whenever I can.’

  I laughed. ‘I bet you do.’

  He took a sip of his lager. ‘We’ve seen five properties now. Am I right in thinking you’ve ruled out the new-builds and prefer the older ones?’

  ‘Yes. Definitely.’

  ‘Imagine that all the properties we saw today were done out in your taste, ready to move into, which did you like best?’

  ‘Definitely the cottage. I could see the potential, but I haven’t time to do anything with it. Even if I made an offer tomorrow, I’d be at least seven months pregnant before it goes through then I reckon there’s several months of work to be done.’

  ‘So we need to find you something like the cottage, but already refurbished.’

  I screwed my face up. ‘Financially that may be out of my reach.’

  ‘There’ll be something out there,’ he said. ‘I’m sure of it.’

  ‘Fancy selling your cottage? I’d love to live there.’

  ‘Would you really?’

  ‘Of course. It’s gorgeous.’ As I said the words, I could picture us all living there together, watching cartoons with baby bean in the lounge while the log-burner glowed, dining in the kitchen and, well, I’d seen his gorgeous bedroom and I could just imagine… ‘Is it hot in here?’ I fanned my face. ‘I’m just going to the ladies. Back shortly.’

  I leaned against the sink and tried to regulate my breathing. I had to stop fantasising about Stevie. He wasn’t interested.

  ‘Are you okay?’ he asked when I returned to the table.

  ‘Pregnancy flush. Sorry about that.’

  ‘I was worried about you. You dashed off so quickly.’

  ‘I’m fine, but it’s nice knowing someone cares.’

  We gazed into each other’s eyes, butterflies going mad in my stomach. Stop it, Elise! He lost his baby then his wife left him. Taking on another man’s baby isn’t exactly a much more appealing proposition, is it?

  ‘The vegetable fajitas?’ a waiter asked.

  ‘Me,’ I said. The moment was lost, but the electricity was still there. It crackled all evening, it fizzed in the car, and it took all my willpower not to lean across and kiss him when I dropped him back home later. Despite my best efforts to just think of him as a friend, my feelings for Stevie kept getting stronger and stronger. Damn!

  Chapter 36

  * To Stevie

  A cottage in Cranton has just come back on the market. It’s really short notice, but I don’t suppose you can join me for a viewing at 7.30 tonight xx

  * From Stevie

  I’d have loved to, but I’m going out for pre-wedding drinks with Nick, Ben and Stuart. Count me in for a 2nd viewing if you like it. Good luck! See you at church tomorrow xx

  ‘It’s just come back on the market,’ the estate agent, Laura, said as she unlocked the front door to the cottage and ushered me into the hall out of the wind and rain. ‘The people who were buying it have lost the buyer on their house so have had no choice but to pull out.’ It was the same agent who’d shown me the dilapidated cottage. She rested her golf brolly against the doorframe as she shut the door to the elements. ‘Before we go in, I need to warn you that it’s smaller than the other one which, by the way, now has updated details to reflect that it needs a little more than a re-paint. The price is the same, but it needs absolutely no work. I promise. Shall we…?’

  I followed Laura round the two-bed cottage, then she left me upstairs to tour the property again on my own. It really was lovely. Although there were only two bedrooms, they were both large doubles and definitely provided plenty of space for baby bean and me. With careful planning, the lounge was large enough to house a desk and shelving units at one end, and there was an open-plan kitchen-diner, which had been refitted a few years previously.

  ‘What do you think?’ Laura asked when I found her in the lounge.

  ‘It’s a lovely cottage. I’d need to bring my friend back for a second opinion. Do you have any other viewings planned?’

  ‘No. They’ve been away, but they’re back tomorrow and have guests staying over Christmas so they’re not wanting any more viewings until New Year. I felt guilty about your last viewing so, as soon as I heard the news about it being back on the market, I thought I’d see if I could sneak you in.’

  I smiled. ‘It wasn’t your fault, but thank you. I’m glad you showed me it. I’ll speak to my friend tomorrow and let you know.’

  I sat in Bertie for some time after Laura had pulled away, staring at the cottage while the rain pelted against my windscreen. It was perfect. It was smaller than I was used to, but it certainly had enough room for the two of us. It had character and warmth. Laura had been right; it didn’t need any work. I even liked the colour scheme so wouldn’t have to worry about painting. It was in a village I loved at a price I could afford. So what had stopped me from scheduling a second viewing immediately?

  My Blackberry beeped. My heart raced at the sight of Stevie’s name on the screen
.

  * From Stevie

  How was it? Do we have a winner? xx

  I stared at his message. That was what was stopping me. Stevie, and the recurring image of baby bean and me living in Bramble Cottage with him. Baby bean kept appearing in my mind as a girl and I wondered if it was some sort of sixth sense at work. My next scan was on Tuesday and I hadn’t wanted to find out what I was having, but maybe I would. I didn’t like the idea of constantly thinking about a baby girl and mentally preparing for her arrival, only to have a boy appear.

  I lay in bed that evening, staring at my bridesmaid dress hanging from the top of the wardrobe, listening to the rain battering against the window. I hoped that the weather forecast was right and that the storm was going to blow itself out in the early hours. Even if it didn’t, it would still be an amazing day. I was so thrilled for Sarah that she’d finally met the man she wanted to marry, and I was excited about the prospect of spending the day in Stevie’s company, even though it could lead nowhere.

  Tears pricked my eyes as I stood by the church entrance beside Callie and Clare, watching Sarah stroll along the winding path beside her dad. Pride flowed through me at the sight of my best friend looking so radiant and beautiful on the day she’d dreamed of for so long.

  Her dress was perfect. A band of crystals across the sweetheart neckline and a band round the waist added elegance to what could have been a fairly simple bodice. Layers of light tulle sparkled with more crystals and the netting parted in the middle to reveal a panel of the lightest champagne tulle, which complimented our bridesmaid dresses perfectly. The effect was completed with a sparkling tiara and a long veil to below her waist before the dress opened out into a long train.

  She stopped when she reached us. ‘My face is already aching from grinning. I think I’ll be in serious pain later.’

  Clare reached forward and adjusted Sarah’s veil. ‘So all the champers you down at the reception will be for medicinal purposes, will it, to dull the pain?’

  ‘Sounds like a great excuse to me,’ Sarah said. ‘Are we all ready?’