“Hi. Thanks for doing everything you did. You didn’t need to, you know.”
I’m a little puzzled because I was really just doing my job but her words mean a lot. I say a ‘you’re very welcome’, smile and watch her leave. Nothing’s been mentioned on either side about Charles doing his information gathering and it doesn’t matter. We all make mistakes in life and this was tiny by comparison, even by the dressed fleas standard. No one died. No one would feel better if it were ever mentioned again.
I do my final report and sigh when I click ‘save’. Everything’s either been printed or is on the network for Billy or Nathan to prepare when they need it.
I had purposely put most of my things in the boot of my car when I left work yesterday so I wouldn’t have much to carry and it is simply me, my bag, card safely stowed, and plant.
Hazel escorts me off the premises. Although I’ve done nothing wrong, I can’t help feeling like a criminal. It’s a silly feeling. I’ve never done anything illegal… well, maybe a mile or two over the speed limit occasionally but nothing intentionally against the law. Donna ‘Goodie Two-Shoes’ Evans, that’s me.
I feel sad waving goodbye to Hazel as the barrier lifts for the pass she’s flashing at it. Although I didn’t get to chat to her as often as I would have liked, I feel she made all the difference for my stay at Hemel Hempstead. Without her brilliant idea of providing me with companions, it would have felt very two-dimensional rather than the four, if that’s possible, that it proved to be. I’ll send her something as a way of thanks, although I know she’d not expect anything. Whatever I choose, I’ll make sure it’s a really really bright colour. And Scottish. And loud. The thought of that banishes my blues and Duncan appears in my brain.
As I drive up the M1, in the inside lane, well back from the car in front, doing a comfortable sixty-five, I think about how quickly this month has gone, month and a day since I arrived. Everyone’s been so lovely and I’m pleased, no relieved, that James and I have sorted everything out. I did get to say a quick ‘goodbye’ to Phil and once he had peeled himself away from the screen, he said he was sorry to see me go, which was nice.
I feel I’ve left with a clear conscience, a small army of good friends, and the satisfaction of a job well done. Okay, so the brief was rather hazy but I did what was asked of me and as far as I know, spent more time in the office than I was expected to, getting ahead with my own work which is brilliant, and didn’t shame Veronica who returns on Monday. I can’t help but wonder whether James has told her about me mistaking him for her husband. I’ve still not seen a picture of him, the real husband. I looked on social media but he’s either particularly private or he doesn’t exist. Of course he has to, for there to be children, but one of life’s mysteries, I guess.
I’m almost tempted to come back to meet her, Veronica, but a phone call or email will suffice. I’m too eager to return to the Northampton hub, catch up on everything I’ve missed and settle back at my own desk. In that respect, it has seemed like ages. It’s funny how time can be so misleading; quick in one life, slow in another.
Chapter 90 – Home Sweet Duncan’s Home
I can’t tell you how pleased, no, delighted, beyond thrilled, I am to be on my way back home. Duncan’s.
He’s back from work already. He’s texted to say he was cooking and asked what time I’d be there. We settled on seven to be on the safe side. If the worst comes to the worst, traffic wise, I’ll skip popping back to my flat. I have my overnight stuff and my own part of his wardrobe so there’s nothing I have to get. I’d only be killing time so what’s the point?
The month has been a blur. It ended up not really being about the food I was eating or the places I went to but the interactions, the fun and laughter. Plenty of trials and tribulations along the way but it’s shown me that life isn’t all about what we do but who we do it with and I know, without any silhouette of a doubt, that Duncan is the man I want to spend the rest of my life with. I’d still love him to propose to me rather than the other way round but there’s a leap year every four years so who knows.
I still have that in my brain when I pull up outside his house. I did have time to go to mine first but I didn’t want to. He won’t mind me being early. What am I going to catch him doing? Walking around his kitchen, naked wearing just his muscle-man pinny? A modern version of my mum’s. Or naked. Wouldn’t be the first time.
Wine. I should have bought some wine. Oh drat. He has loads but it would have been a nice touch. I’m nervous. Why am I nervous? I’m never nervous around Duncan.
Because I want to marry him.
I have a huge grin on my face at the thought of him wearing nothing but a pinny, or less, as I fish around in my bag for his key then realise they’re on the same bunch as my main set which is still in my hand from when I batted the remote to lock the car. I tell you, my brain’s going to mush. Even more than normal.
I’m about to put the key in the lock when the door opens, making me wobble a little.
True to form, he’s wearing his pinny, the two-dimensional muscles rippling as he leans forward to give me the biggest of kisses. It’s slow, tender, and continues for ages. We’ve not seen each other for two weeks, the longest we’ve been apart since we met.
“It’s been for-effing ever,” he says as he pulls back.
“It has,” I say and follow him into the hall. The smell of cooking is subtle but it’s there.
“It’s only just gone in,” he says and smiles at my snigger before he takes a sip of red wine. There are two glasses and the other is a little fuller than his.
“I love red wine,” I say, “sometimes I even put it in the food.” I frown as it didn’t come out exactly how it was meant. My brain catches up. “I cook with wine…” I give up. Duncan knows what I mean.
He looks from me to upstairs, then back to me. “We have twenty minutes to kill…”
I smile and he steps forward, takes my right hand in mine and leads me astray.
Chapter 91 – Catching up with Izzy
Saturday 2nd June
And I thought hangovers were bad. I smile as Duncan rolls over and snores, settling thankfully with his face away from me. I’m also grateful that he’s not awake so I don’t have to tell him that I’ve been up twice in the middle of the night, head over the toilet bowl, trying to keep down the lovely meal he cooked. As far as I know he’s been all right, sleeping straight through, or certainly snoring away when I’ve been awake.
I love chicken. I love chicken teriyaki, especially with new potatoes and mixed veg. Mixed anything is fine with me; I love my combos. But just the thought of it… My stomach churns and I slide out of bed for a third time. I can’t get comfortable no matter how hard I try. It hurts to lie, hurts to sit, hurts to stand. So I head back to the bathroom, lift the toilet lid and kneel, waiting.
I’m also grateful that I don’t have work today, or tomorrow… or Monday. William’s given me the day off which is very kind of him. He’s running a spare article I’d submitted before I went away and I can do my round up / welcome back kind of article for Tuesday’s issue. Then back to normal on Wednesday. Right now though I’m feeling far from it.
I look at a waterproof clock at the end of the bath. 08:01. If Amazon made waterproof Alexas we’d probably have one of those in here too. I must admit I am a bit of a news nut so would ask her what’s been happening while I’ve been asleep, awake, barely asleep, awake, and even less asleep before the final wake. Another world tragedy, another loss for Hollywood probably, so I can wait.
Next thing I know there’s a knock at the bathroom door. I’ve fallen asleep and my head’s freezing, cheek stuck to the side of the bath. Very dignified. Thankfully though I’m feeling better. I turn, flush the toilet, and go to stand. I’m not queasy, not a hundred percent, but semi-human at least. I open the door and there’s Duncan, bed-headed but as gorgeous as ever.
“Missed you when I woke this morning,” he says.
I try a smile and blow h
im a kiss. I’ve not brushed my teeth yet so don’t want to inflict him with that kind of skin on skin. I think he can tell.
“Cuppa?”
“Please,” I say except it comes out as a bit of a squawk. My mouth is so dry. Brushing my teeth then mouthwash, or the other way round, I haven’t decided which, will help.
I go back in the bathroom and shut the door.
“Oh!” Duncan calls through the door. I’m mid brush so can’t move or speak but just listen. “Your phone’s out here if you’re looking for it. Izzy rang. She’s on her way over. For a catch up, she says.”
Urgh. I normally love to see her but not feeling up to it.
I can then hear Duncan plod back to the kitchen. He’s wearing his particularly noisy slippers. I only have myself to blame as I bought them for him for Christmas.
I spit and stare in the mirror. I don’t look sick yet sub-human is about as good as I feel I’m going to get today. I keep staring and a light bulb finally goes off in my head.
I come out of the bathroom about ten minutes later, hands behind my back, deep in thought.
Wandering through to the kitchen, I’m greeted by a pair of Cheshire cats. I’m not sure I can handle this.
Izzy’s acting weird. She’s me on a particularly bouncy day. I, however, still feel like death. No, not quite death but I currently don’t know how I feel. She steps forward and grins. I think I know that grin and that once I get back to normality, it’s exactly how I will be feeling.
We scream as we hold up our hands. The brands are different but clutched between the thumbs and index fingers of our right hands are two pregnancy testers: mine showing two blue vertical lines, Izzy’s showing the words ‘Pregnant’ and ‘3+’ underneath it.
Oh… my… god.
Locations featured in The Serial Dieter
Chapters 1-3: The newspaper office, Northampton town centre.
Chapter 4: The newspaper office, Boots and the market, then newspaper office, all Northampton town centre.
Chapters 5-6: Duncan’s house, somewhere in Northampton.
Chapters 7-8: The Northampton newspaper office.
Chapter 9: Duncan’s house.
Chapter 10: Duncan’s house then the M1 motorway.
Chapter 11: Donna’s mum’s (Lesley’s) house in Tring, Hertfordshire.
Chapters 12-17: The sister newspaper office, central Hemel Hempstead, Hertfordshire.
Chapter 18: Ristorante Alberto, Hemel old village then Subway, town centre.
Chapter 19: Subway then newspaper office, both Hemel town centre.
Chapters 20-22: The Hemel office.
Chapter 23: The office then Chiangmai Thai restaurant, Hemel old village.
Chapter 24: Chiangmai Thai restaurant then Asda then office car park, all Hemel town centre.
Chapters 25-26: Lesley’s house, Tring.
Chapters 27-28: The Hemel office.
Chapter 29: The Hemel office then XC (indoor rock climbing centre), Jarman Square, near the M1, Hemel.
Chapter 30: XC then the Hemel office.
Chapters 31-32: The Hemel office.
Chapter 33: K2 Balti House restaurant, Hemel town centre.
Chapter 34: K2 Balti House restaurant then Lesley’s house.
Chapter 35: The Hemel office.
Chapter 36: Donna’s aunt Jan and uncle Pat’s, Tring, then Tring reservoir.
Chapter 37: Bluebells Tearooms, Tring Reservoir, Marsworth.
Chapter 38: Ivinghoe Beacon.
Chapter 39: Aunt Jan and Uncle Pat’s then Lesley’s house, both Tring.
Chapter 40: Tring Garden Centre, near Bulbourne.
Chapter 41: The Hemel office then Pizza Express, Hemel town centre.
Chapter 42: Lesley’s house, Tring.
Chapter 43: The Hemel office then Subway, Hemel town centre.
Chapter 44: The Hemel office.
Chapter 45: The Hemel office, Lesley’s, then Lussmanns, The Old (HSBC) Bank, High Street, Tring.
Chapter 46: Lesley’s house, Tring.
Chapter 47: The Hemel office then The Marlowes Café, Hemel town centre.
Chapters 48-9: Duncan’s house, Northampton.
Chapter 50: Starbucks then charity shops, Northampton town centre then Duncan’s house.
Chapter 51: Duncan’s house then Frankie & Benny’s, Sixfields Leisure Complex, Northampton.
Chapter 52: Duncan’s house.
Chapter 53: Donna’s flat then Duncan’s house.
Chapter 54: The Hemel office.
Chapter 55: Hemel office then Nando’s, Jarman Park, Hemel.
Chapter 56: The Anchor pub, Western Road, Tring then Lesley’s house.
Chapter 57: Lesley’s house then the Hemel office.
Chapter 58: The Hemel office then Black Goo café, High Street, Tring then Lesley’s house.
Chapter 59: The Anchor, Tring.
Chapter 60: The Hemel office.
Chapter 61: The Hemel office then Chiquito, Jarman Square, Hemel then Lesley’s house.
Chapter 62: Lesley’s house, the Hemel office, Lesley’s house, Tring.
Chapter 63: Lesley’s house, Tring.
Chapter 64: Lesley’s, Costa then the Natural History museum, Lesley’s, all Tring.
Chapter 65: Lesley’s, Tring reservoir and Bluebells Tearooms (Marsworth) then Tesco and Lesley’s house, Tring.
Chapter 66: Lesley’s house, Tring.
Chapter 67: Hemel office then The Paper Mill at Apsley.
Chapter 68: Berkhamsted canal, Hemel office then The Plough at Leverstock Green.
Chapter 69: Hemel office then Nando’s, Jarman Park, Hemel.
Chapter 70: Hemel office then The Mogul at Hemel old town then Lesley’s house, Tring.
Chapter 71: Lesley’s house, Tring, Hemel office then Boxmoor Steakhouse, Boxmoor, Hemel.
Chapter 72: Hemel office then Duncan’s house, Northampton.
Chapter 73: Duncan’s house then Izzy’s house, Northampton.
Chapter 74: Heather’s café, Extra Care / British Red Cross / Age UK charity shops, White Elephant pub, Izzy’s house, all Northampton.
Chapter 75: Donna’s flat then Duncan’s house, Northampton.
Chapter 76: Duncan’s house and Donna’s flat, Northampton.
Chapter 77: Hemel office then The Mazza, Marlowes Shopping Centre, Hemel then Lesley’s house, Tring.
Chapter 78: Hemel office then Maramis, Marlowes Shopping Centre, Hemel.
Chapter 79: Hemel office then Smoky Boys American diner, Saint Albans Road
Chapter 80: Hemel office then Ristorante Alberto, Hemel
Chapter 81: Bluebells Tearooms and Tring Reservoir, Marsworth, Hemel office then Lesley’s house, Tring.
Chapter 82: Lesley’s house, Tourist Information Office, National History Museum, Jan and Pat’s house, all Tring.
Chapter 83: Tring Park area (seven-mile walk) then Jan and Pat’s house, Lesley’s house, all Tring
Chapter 84: Lesley’s house, Beefeater Crow’s Nest, Lesley’s, all Tring.
Chapter 85: Lesley’s house, Tring, then The Full House (Wetherspoon), Hemel.
Chapter 86: Hemel office then The Olive Indian Restaurant, Hemel.
Chapter 87: Hemel office then Toby Carvery, Hemel.
Chapter 88: Hemel office then the Opuz Kitchen, Hemel.
Chapter 89: Hemel office then Subway, Hemel town centre then back to the office.
Chapters 90-1: Duncan’s house, somewhere in Northampton.
About the Author
Rachel Cavanagh was born a southerner and will always be at heart. She transplanted herself, indirectly because of her job at the time, to the East Midlands, UK, in the early 1990s and has dreams of ‘retiring’ to Sussex, further south than her original roots, where she’d love to write full time with a sea view.
Short stories have always been her first love. A regular at her local library as a child, she devoured novels (sometimes under the covers with a torch) but often returned to short stories. Inspirations incl
ude Roald Dahl and Kate Atkinson.
Rachel will always be grateful to her father, with whom she would love to have had more time, especially to hear about his working relationship with Mr Dahl. Rachel knew how proud her father was of her, and she will always be a daddy’s girl.
You can find Rachel at https://twitter.com/RachelCavAuthor.
Note from the Author
Thank you so much for purchasing this book, or choosing
The Serial Dieter as your Kindle Unlimited read.
I loved writing it and hope you enjoyed reading it…
and its predecessor, The Serial Dater.
I’d like to take this opportunity to also thank all my writing friends for their ongoing support,
and to my fabulous beta readers: Amber, Ann, Deborah, Diana, Dorothy, Heather (yes, from Heather’s café), Izzy (not Donna’s!), Laurence, Rachel, and Renu.
They deserve far more credit than I can give them as they received a first draft in such a raw state it could have easily given them food poisoning so my multitude of thanks.
Also to my tireless assistant Caroline Vincent.
Oh, and the scene with the beagle and chocolate really happened to my aunt and uncle… who in real-life are an animal portrait artist and a professional photographer… and are actually Jill Fowler and Mike Bass – the couple mentioned who write books about Tring!
I love hearing from readers, especially with feedback.
You can either find me on Twitter at https://twitter.com/RachelCavAuthor), or via email: [email protected], and I am always grateful for honest reviews.
Published by August Publishing UK
The Serial Dieter Page 41
