“Yeah. Me too,” Becky whispered back, putting her arm around Mandy’s shoulders.
“I’m really sorry,” Mandy said, unable to meet Becky’s eyes.
“It’s not your fault,” Becky said, hugging her.
“Come on, you two. Have your deep and meaningful girl talk back at the hotel,” Roger grumbled, cupping his hands over his mouth and breathing into them. “I’m freezing my nuts off, here.”
Mandy nodded. “I’m okay now, she said, unwrapping herself from Becky’s arms. She handed the handkerchief back to Becky.
“That’s okay. I have plenty. You keep it,” she said, pushing Mandy’s hand away. Becky began to walk away, then stumbled, twisting her ankle on the cobble stones. She fell against Clive, who’d wrapped his arms around her protectively.
“It’s all this frigging fresh air, I’m telling you,” Mandy giggled.
Clive let go of Becky’s arm and then leaned down. “Come on, up you get,” he’d said, slapping his back. “You can’t walk on that ankle. I’ll piggy-back you.”
“We should just catch a cab,” Becky said, holding onto Clive’s arm, wincing at the sharp pain that tore up her leg.
“Quicker just to walk. Come on,” he said again, manoeuvring her onto his back. Laughing, Becky eventually succumbed, and hopped up onto Clive’s back, wrapping her legs around his waist.
Roger, not wanting to be outdone, puffed up his chest then leaned down, offering his own back to Mandy. “Get on, you. But I swear to God, if you throw up on any part of me, just the tiniest bit, you’re walking.”
Mandy clapped her hands together. “Yay! Piggy-back races,” she said enthusiastically, obviously feeling much better.
“I say we all come back here for New Year’s,” Clive said, starting to jog, bouncing Becky up and down on his back and making her laugh even louder.
“I second that,” Mandy called out, her feet knocking against Roger’s thighs. “Come on. Giddy up, horsey.”
Back in their hotel room, Becky said, “This is the most amazing place.” She fell back onto the crisp, white Egyptian cotton sheets on the bed, her arms stretched out above her head. “Listen to those waves crashing on the beach. Don’t they sound amazing? So romantic…”
Roger fell onto the bed with just his t-shirt on, pulled the sheets across his body and grunted. “Whatever. You’re drunk. Go to sleep.”
Becky reached her arms under the covers and slipped her arms around him. “Don’t be such a grouch,” she murmured in his ear. Her hands slipped between his legs, searching, stroking until he grew hard. He moaned, rolled over, then, wordlessly, he gripped her thighs and pulled her up on top of him.
As drunk as Roger had been, as drunk as they had both been, they had still made love to the thundering waves hammering on the beach outside before falling into a dreamless sleep.
The next morning, Becky had woken up to an empty bed and a note on the pillow beside her. She picked it up and read it. Gone for a jog. Need to clear my head. Back soon. Still naked, Becky stretched, then slid out of the bed. Testing her ankle and feeling only a little twinge of pain, she wrapped herself up in one of the fluffy white robes and walked to the window.
An odd ominous feeling lingered in the back of her mind, a feeling that she couldn’t quite put her finger on. She pulled back the heavy blue and cream curtains and peered outside, the ominous feeling instantly forgotten. The ocean stretched out for miles, meeting a clear blue horizon where a brilliant sun hung in the sky like a golden orb. The largest seagulls she had ever seen squawked noisily, flapping their wings, dipping and rising, as numerous fishing boats bobbed up and down, like toy boats in a giant bathtub.
It was picture perfect, a glorious day, and she felt better than she had in a very long time. She strolled into the bathroom, everything so white and sparkling. Twin hand basins, twin mirrors, a deep bathtub. She turned on the taps, filling the tub with steaming hot water. She tipped in some lavender scented bath oil, untied and let the bathrobe fall onto the tiled floor. She tested the water with her toe then stepped in, sinking down into the depths of the water as she exhaled, a flurry of bubbles washing away the residual smells of liquor, cigarettes, and sex from the night before.
The sex hadn’t been gentle, or romantic, but it had been sex, something they had not done in a very long while, it seemed. Perhaps they had needed this weekend away more than she’d realized to get their relationship back on track. Perhaps she should have suggested that they had come alone, just the two of them, when Roger had first mentioned the trip away to her, instead of agreeing to let Mandy and Clive come along with them.
She stayed in the bath until the water began to cool around her, crinkling her skin. She dried herself and quickly got dressed.
Beneath a pair of corduroy jeans and a white, mohair jumper, she wore a pink halter-neck bikini. She picked up her phone and dialled Mandy’s mobile number. Holding the phone up against her ear, she peered back out of the window, admiring the perpetual waves rolling over the ocean, reminding her of white horses on an endless journey to shore.
“Hi,” Mandy replied, sounding a little hesitant.
“Hi back. I didn’t wake you, did I? I know how you love to sleep in. Are you feeling okay?”
“I’m fine, and no, you didn’t wake me.”
“Good. Roger went for a jog, so I thought we could stroll down to the terrace for a coffee before breakfast, then hit the indoor pool. It looks fabulous. Maybe the spa after lunch, and a massage? What do you think? I know I won’t be able to talk Roger into it.”
Silence.
“You still there?” Becky asked, checking her phone.
“Um, yes. That sounds great. I’ll join you in about…” she paused. “Twenty minutes, okay? I just got back from a walk along the beach.”
“Really? I thought I’d have to bang on your door and drag you out of bed by the ankles to wake you up this morning.”
“Why don’t you give Clive a call? I’m sure he’d love to join you for coffee, and he loves to swim. He likes you, you know.”
“Oh, why did you have to go and say that? Now I’m just going to feel all girly and awkward around him.”
“You like him, too, don’t you?”
“You know I do, he’s a nice guy. Everyone likes Clive. But I think you’ve forgotten one thing?”
“What? Roger?”
“Yes, Roger. Of course Roger. Who else would I be talking about?”
“Things change,” Mandy replied. “I know Roger and you have been going through a rough patch, and I just thought… Well, you know I only want you to be happy…”
Becky turned her back to the window and lowered her head. “I know you do. You’re such a good friend. I don’t know what I would do without you, but I think things are going to get better with Roger and me. I think this weekend was exactly what we needed. We had sex last night. We haven’t had sex for ages,” she said in a small, embarrassed voice.
More silence.
“Mandy?”
“Yes. I’m still here. What do you mean, things are going to get better? What did Roger say?” Mandy asked. “Just because you had drunk sex, well, I don’t think that really means anything, do you?”
“I’ll tell you everything later. Just hurry up and get ready, okay?”
Becky pulled her head up off the steering wheel, slammed the palm of her hand down on the car horn, and screamed. Had the whole weekend been a plan concocted by Mandy and Roger to get her and Clive together? Had Clive been part of the plan, too? Was it just a coincidence that Mandy and Roger had both woken up early the next morning? Had they planned to meet up at the beach all along? Had they walked along the beach hand-in-hand as they watched the sun come up, secretly planning their next move, or had they torn off each other’s clothes in Mandy’s room and fucked their brains out while she slept blissfully unaware and alone in her bed?
She thought about what her mother would have said. “Let him go, love. There are plenty of other fish in the ocean.”
“Good riddance, you’re better off without the cheating scumbag,” her Uncle Steve would say, giving her a hug and letting her cry against his chest.
Her father would let out a sigh and shake his head. “There are plenty of other fish in the ocean, Becky. That’s what your Mum would say.” And he would be correct because, even though he had married wretched Felicity, her father still loved her mother, and knew exactly what Victoria would have said about any situation - the good and the bad.
Flicking her long red hair over her shoulder, as though she were about to part with some sage advice, Felicity would say… Becky pulled her hand off the horn and slumped back against the car seat. She didn’t give a flying fuck what Felicity would say. She pulled a handkerchief from her bag and blew her nose.
A man poked his head around the open car door. “You okay in there, wee lassie?”
“Fine. Thank you,” Becky said, forcing a smile and pulling the car door closed, suddenly realising how cold she was. She jerked the seatbelt over her shoulder, once, twice, then buckled it up. She turned the keys in the ignition and turned up the heat, filling the interior of the car with hot air. When she pulled the car out into the street to drive home to her apartment, Cliff Richard was singing “Mistletoe And Wine”.
Once home, Becky threw her bag on the kitchen table and went directly to the freezer, retrieved a bag of frozen prawns she’d bought from a fresh seafood market because Roger loved prawns, wrapped them up in a tea towel, and put them into a plastic carry-bag, then left.
“We’ll see how much you like them in a few days,” she said, running down the stairs to her car.
BECKY JENSEN’S FACEBOOK STATUS: I hate Cancer! I hate my cheating boyfriend! I hate my best friend! I hate Christmas!
Ten minutes later, she pulled up outside Mandy’s apartment, and with her spare key, she unlocked the front door and made her way quickly up the stairs to Mandy’s bedroom, the bag of prawns in her hand.
She strategically concealed prawns around the room. She put them under the bed, behind the closet, and in the back of drawers, where she discovered a photo of a naked Roger laying in Mandy’s bed with a wide grin on his face. She tossed in another handful of prawns, and covered them with clothing before slamming the drawer shut. In another drawer, she found Mandy’s journal. She picked it up, toying with the idea of reading it, then shoved it back in the drawer. She wasn’t that kind of person.
Downstairs, she darted around from room to room, hiding prawns under the sofa, behind picture frames, under a lampshade, and in the back of the oven. She gave a satisfied nod at a job well done. Especially pleased with herself knowing that the next time Mandy opened the oven, the stink would sit the bitch down on her arse.
Four Years Ago.
Becky lounged on the couch with Mandy watching television and reading magazines. It was a Saturday night, and they were at Mandy’s flat, dressed in their pyjamas. Half a bottle of white wine, two wine glasses, and a block of half eaten chocolate sat on the coffee table next to a pile of magazines and a pizza box. Roger was at the pub with his mates celebrating the win of their footy team, so, according to Mandy, a girl’s night in was definitely the go.
Mandy sat up and broke into a gaggle of giggles. “Look at this,” she said, handing the magazine to Becky. The article in the magazine was about a woman who had hidden prawns in her cheating boyfriend’s apartment. They read the rest of the article together, then looked at each other, and burst out laughing.
Mandy brushed tears from her cheeks.
“My face hurts from laughing,” Becky said, holding her face in her hands.
Mandy hugged her torso and tried to stop laughing. “What a classic revenge story. I would so do that,” she breathed between chuckles, her eyes shining with tears.
Becky expression grew serious. “Not a chance,” she said, shaking her head. “No one would ever cheat on you, Mandy. Look at you. You’re perfect. But I may need your help one day…”
Mandy started giggling again, which set off Becky. “Don’t be ridiculous, Beck. You and Roger are solid as, like Ryan Gosling and Rachel McAdams. Such a gorgeous couple.”
Becky looked at Mandy. “But Ryan and Rachel broke up.”
“Oh, I didn’t know that. Bad comparison.” Mandy smiled, and they burst into laughter again.
A few moments later, Becky said, “You really think that Roger is into me?”
“Are you kidding me? He is absolutely so into you. You don’t have a thing to worry about, Beck. Roger talks about you all the time at work. Beck this, Becky that. The way he goes on and on about you makes me want to projectile vomit… I would do anything to have a boyfriend like Roger. I’m so jealous of you.” She refilled Becky’s glass and handed it to her, then snapped a piece of chocolate off the block and popped it into her mouth. “I gotta go pee.” She started off down the narrow hall. “You’re so lucky to have Roger. I only wish that I could find someone like him,” she called out from the lavatory.
Becky looked back at the sofa where she had shared so many great times with Mandy, then she leaned down and picked up a pretty, hand-painted pottery vase from the centre of the small coffee table. Wiping tears off her cheeks with the back of her other hand, she considered smashing it into a thousand pieces. She put it back down. She recalled the day she had bought it for Mandy at St Ives from an arts and craft market, just because Mandy had fallen in love with it the moment she’d seen it, but it was just too expensive for her to buy…
She took the last prawn out of the bag, dropped it down the narrow neck of the vase and turned away. In the kitchen, she shoved the empty plastic bag into the bottom of the rubbish bin, beneath a stack of empty plastic containers from the Indian takeaway down the street, then stopped and stared wide-eyed at a small blue box almost concealed by a drizzle of curry sauce. She picked the blue box up carefully, avoiding the greasy curry sliding down the side of the packet.
Clearblue Digital Pregnancy Test.
“What? Oh. My. God. You’ve got to be freaking kidding me.” She dumped the box back in the trash, washed her hands in the sink, and then ran back up the stairs and into Mandy’s bedroom.
She was that kind of person, after all.
Pulling open the top drawer of the dresser, she pushed clothes aside, then slammed it shut. “Second drawer, idiot,” she said, starting to feel sick again. She pulled open the second drawer, found the book, and flicked through the pages until she came to the last insertion.
Roger still hasn’t told Becky, and I feel terrible about that. He says he is waiting for a good time. But is there ever a good time when it comes to telling your girlfriend that you are in love with her best friend? I took another pregnancy test today, just to make sure. POSITIVE. I AM GOING TO HAVE A BABY. I CAN’T BELIEVE IT! I’M GOING TO BE A MUMMY!!! My first thought was to call Becky. I’ve always called Becky when something fantastic happens… or something terrible. But this isn’t terrible, this is wonderful. I want to tell everyone, but I can’t. Not even Roger. Not until he tells Becky that it’s over, and that he is in love with me. New Year’s. I will tell him on New Year’s, not before. It will be a wonderful start to the New Year. I will tell him when we go to St Ives for New Year’s. It would be kind of an anniversary for us. Back to the place where our beautiful little baby was conceived! Oh my god. I wonder if it will be a girl or a boy. I was always going to call my baby Becky, if I had a little girl, but I guess I can’t do that now. I hope it is a little boy, and looks just like his daddy. How adorable. I’m so excited I can’t sleep. I wish I could call Becky…
The words began to blur together on the page. She had read enough. She closed the book, placing it back into the second drawer and closing it. Now it all made sense. Why Mandy hadn’t been drinking like a fish at the office Christmas party last week, like she usually did. Free alcohol was free alcohol, after all. Why she had opted to be the designated driver – for the first time ever. The pain in Becky’s heart was excruciating. It was as though she’d just l
earned that her two best friends had died in a head-on collision, leaving her to mourn them and pick up the pieces on her own.
Head bowed, she walked back down the stairs like a woman on death row, walked out the front door, locked it and turned around, smashing straight into a body, her nose flattening up against a man’s broad chest. Her heart lurched and she squeezed her eyes closed. Please don’t let it be Roger, I couldn’t bear it. Or what would be even worse, both of them, Roger and Mandy together.
“Hey there, are you okay?” Clive asked, holding her at arm’s length and trying to study her face. He lifted her chin with his finger and was horrified when he saw her eyes, red and puffy from crying.
Becky’s eyes blinked open and she stared open-mouthed up into Clive’s face, tears streaming down her cheeks.
She saw pity twisting his brow, darkening his eyes. His shoulders slumped, and she could literally see his chest deflating like a popped balloon. “They told you, didn’t they?”
She shook her head, stepping back, her hands planted firmly on his broad chest, and she pushed him away. “You knew?” she asked in a low, mortified tone.
“Yes. No. Well I just-”
“You know what, Clive, I don’t care. Not anymore. I just… DO NOT GIVE A FLYING FUCK,” she shouted, shaking her head and stamping her feet. She wanted to stop saying fuck so much - her mother would be horrified at all of her horrid cursing.
“Nice girls don’t talk like that,” her mother would tell her in no uncertain terms.
Clive reached for her arm, but she shrugged away, as though his touch would contaminate her with a flesh-eating fungus.
“You can all just go get lost,” she said, taking Mandy’s key off her keyring with shaking hands and tossing it in a nearby shrub, top-heavy with the weight of new snow.
About Three Authors Page 4
