by Jill Mansell
Nor was she capable of keeping her newfound happiness to herself. The namechecks had been coming thick and fast. When Zack had made a comment about his flight back from Milan, Ellie had launched into something funny that had happened to Joe when he’d been on his way over to LA. If he made her a coffee, she retaliated with a Joe-related anecdote about coffee. When he asked her if she’d watched Dragons’ Den last night, Ellie said, ‘No, we were out, Joe took me to a salsa bar, it was brilliant.’
As if he was remotely interested. Each fresh detail was like lemon juice in a wound but Ellie simply couldn’t help herself; she carried on regaling him with stories about Joe Kerrigan and in return he had to listen and nod and smile as if he were pleased for her.
Elmo danced on the end of his lead, snuffling at a candy wrapper on the pavement. Zack pulled him away, carried on walking, and checked his watch. Half eight.
As a rule, the journey from Primrose Hill to Ancram Street didn’t take in Nevis Street. But today, he told himself, he just happened to feel like heading in that direction. Coincidentally he’d felt the same way yesterday. OK, and the day before.
Well, a bit of extra exercise never did any harm, did it?
But in the same way that listeners never hear good of themselves, less than two minutes later Zack saw what he really hadn’t wanted to see. He and Elmo stood at the upper end of the road and watched as the front door of Ellie’s house opened and Joe Kerrigan came out.
Looking as if he’d spent the night having sex.
Zack’s jaw tightened. He felt as if he’d been punched in the stomach. Was it any wonder Joe’s hair was disheveled and he looked the way he did? He was leaving Ellie’s house at eight thirty in the morning. Of course they’d had sex.
As he watched, Joe turned and gazed up at the first floor. Then he broke into a grin and called out, ‘See you later.’
The window was flung open and Zack heard Ellie say, ‘What was that?’
‘I’ll see you later.’ Joe’s grin broadened and he blew her a kiss. ‘Missing you already.’
OK, he’d heard enough. Zack moved out of sight before Joe had a chance to turn round and recognize him.
Back home now.
Served him right for having come this way in the first place.
***
Ellie arrived at the house dead on nine o’clock, her hair still damp from the shower. She was wearing a pale pink shift dress, pink and silver sandals, and a thin silver bracelet Zack hadn’t seen before.
‘That’s nice.’ Busy adding a new appointment to the diary, he indicated the bracelet.
‘This? Thanks! It was a present from Joe.’
Another sucker punch. Great. Aloud Zack said, ‘Right.’
‘Isn’t it pretty?’ Ellie was turning her wrist this way and that, so it caught the light. ‘He gave it to me last night. I love it!’
Oh, Joe, do fuck off.
‘Excellent. Well, I’m off to Monte Carlo on Tuesday, so I need you to book me a flight to Nice. The meeting’s at midday.’
‘No problem. I’ll do that now.’ Her eyes were sparkling; she might not have got much sleep last night but she was running on adrenaline. ‘Leave it with me.’
But by midafternoon the lack of sleep was catching up with her. Twice while he was in the office he caught Ellie yawning. Three times her phone chirruped to signal the arrival of a text and she stopped typing in order to read the messages and reply.
The last straw came when Zack attempted to return a call and discovered she’d written down the wrong number.
‘Look, I’m sorry if I’m keeping you up, but you need to be paying more attention.’ Marching into the office, he found her sending yet another text. ‘I’m trying to make an important call here and this isn’t the number.’ He pushed the piece of paper across the desk, his annoyance ratchetted up to the next level by the fact that Ellie finished composing the text and sent it before looking at the number she’d written.
‘OK, let me try. That’s definitely the one he gave me.’ She held out her hand for his phone and reeled off the numbers. ‘Oh-two-six-seven-three…’
‘No, you’ve written oh-two-oh-seven-three.’
‘That’s a six.’ Ellie pointed to it.
Unreasonably annoyed, Zack said, ‘It looks like a zero.’
‘It might look like one of your zeros,’ she retaliated, ‘because you don’t always bother to close yours. But I do close mine. This one isn’t closed, because it isn’t a zero. It’s a six.’
Unfairly, the figure was now looking more and more like a six.
Zack took back his phone, unwilling to concede defeat. ‘And you haven’t stopped yawning all morning.’
‘I might have yawned a couple of times.’ Ellie was defensive. ‘But it hasn’t stopped me working.’
‘Maybe not, but all the texting’s certainly managing it. I’m just saying, it’s not very professional, breaking off from whatever you’re doing every few minutes to read a new text from your boyfriend, then send one back.’
‘Hey, hang on, you’re annoyed with me because I wrote a number down correctly and you got it wrong?’ Ellie’s eyes flashed. ‘And I’ve yawned maybe twice, because I’ve been so busy I haven’t had time to stop and make myself a cup of coffee yet?’
‘Don’t forget the texting,’ said Zack.
‘Fine. Here you go, help yourself.’ She reached over, grabbed his left wrist and slammed her phone into his upturned palm. ‘Have a good look, scroll through the texts I’ve sent today. Read them.’
‘No.’
‘Yes.’
‘I don’t want to read your texts.’
‘And I don’t care whether or not you want to.’ Ellie was breathing rapidly, her chest rising and falling as she snatched the phone, pressed a few buttons, and shoved it back at him. ‘You’re going to.’
Which meant Zack was forced to stand there and read each of the texts in turn.
None of them were from Joe Kerrigan. Instead, Ellie had been in contact with the PAs of two of the other business people due at the meeting in Monaco. Thanks to her negotiations, the journey from Nice airport to Monte Carlo would no longer be by car; they were to be whisked there by helicopter instead.
‘Oh God. I’m sorry.’ Zack handed the phone back.
‘Good.’
‘I mean, really sorry.’
‘That’s OK. You’ve been a bit twitchy today. In a funny mood.’
‘I know.’
Ellie was looking at him. ‘Is something wrong?’
What could he say? Yes, something is wrong, and it’s all your fault?
‘No.’ Zack shook his head. ‘I shouldn’t have had a go. I’m not usually like that.’
‘I know you aren’t. Anyway, thanks.’
‘For apologizing? That’s the least I can do.’
‘Not for the apology,’ said Ellie. ‘For the argument. My first proper one in a long time.’
‘Oh.’ He began to relax. ‘Did you enjoy it?’
‘Very much. Especially the bit where I won. In fact…’
‘In fact what?’ She was eyeing him thoughtfully.
‘Was this all part of the plan? You knew I missed having arguments so you decided to start one?’ A slow smile was spreading across Ellie’s face. ‘Oh my God, am I right? Did you do it on purpose?’
Zack briefly considered the alternatives. Talk about a moral dilemma. Bloody morals.
‘OK,’ he said finally, ‘I’d love to be able to tell you that was true. But I’m afraid it wasn’t. I was just being a bad-tempered old git.’
Ellie’s smile broadened. ‘The thing is, you say that now. But I’m still not sure I believe you.’
Zack couldn’t speak. All he wanted to do was kiss her.
And he wasn’t allowed to do that either.
Chapter 42
The irony of the situation didn’t escape Roo. Here she was, lying in a reclining chair allowing her ex-lover’s wife to inflict pain on her.
Pain is good.
She wouldn’t even mind more pain than this, but Yasmin was a pro. Swiftly, skillfully, she manipulated the twirled-together threads, whisking out tiny hairs and leaving perfectly sculpted eyebrows in their place. Well, hopefully she was. Roo imagined sitting up at the end, gazing into the mirror, and discovering that one eyebrow was arched and the other one flat. Or missing altogether.
‘So,’ Yasmin said cheerfully, ‘how’s everything been going with you?’
‘Not so bad.’ Between the razor-sharp ting ting tings as each hair was tweaked out, Roo updated her with the latest goings-on in the shop. Yesterday a man had donated a portrait in oils of the ugliest woman any of them had ever seen. This morning he had returned explaining that it was a painting of his late wife and he’d missed her too much, could he please have it back? His relief when he learned that it hadn’t been snapped up had touched the hearts of everyone in the shop. When they’d handed over the hideous portrait, he’d wept tears of joy.
‘How about you?’ Roo changed the subject.
‘Me? Oh, I’m getting a divorce.’
‘What?’ Roo’s eyes had been closed. Now they snapped open. ‘You mean, you and your… husband?’
‘That’s generally how it works.’
‘But… why?’ Was she sounding too shocked? Oh God, this was awful. But she had to ask.
‘Nothing very original, I’m afraid. Same old story. I found out he’s been having an affair.’ Yasmin stopped threading, raised the back of the recliner slightly, and handed Roo a mirror. ‘Here you are. Have a look and see what you think.’
Roo gazed at her reflection and saw a selfish, marriage-wrecking harlot with stunning eyebrows.
‘Is that about right,’ said Yasmin, ‘or do you want them narrower?’
‘This is fine.’ It was hard to look at herself. Roo put the mirror down.
‘OK, the skin’s a bit red. I’m going to put some aloe vera gel on there to cool it down. You just lie back and relax.’
When the gel had been applied, Roo said, ‘Who was it?’
‘Who was what?’
‘The other woman.’
‘Oh, they used to work together. She’s a sales rep with another company now.’
‘That’s awful.’ What would be really awful was if she were to accidentally mention Vivica’s name. Roo clamped her mouth shut so it couldn’t slip out.
‘It is awful, but I’m doing OK. Oh, bless you for looking so upset.’ Yasmin gave her shoulder a grateful squeeze. ‘You’ve come here to be pampered, you don’t have to put up with me bleating on about my marriage.’
‘You aren’t bleating.’
‘If I get tedious, just tell me to change the subject.’
Roo needed to know. ‘So what happened? How did you find out?’
‘Total cliché. Came home unexpectedly and caught them at it.’
Oh God, that could have been me. It couldn’t have, because she’d never visited their house, but Roo covered her mouth in horror anyway. Swallowing with difficulty, she said, ‘Then what?’
‘Actually, I was quite proud of myself.’ Yasmin’s cheeks dimpled. ‘I threw a can of super strength hair spray at him. I’m usually rubbish at throwing, my friends say I throw darts like harpoons. But I got him on the forehead. It was one of those brilliant moments when you wish there’d been someone there to video it. I’d love to have put it on YouTube.’
She appeared to be taking it incredibly well. Far better than Roo, whose heart was going twenty-six to the dozen.
‘So you’ve kicked him out of the house?’
‘No, I didn’t want to stay there. Me and Ben are back at my mum’s.’ Yasmin’s dimples deepened again. ‘It’s lovely.’
‘You don’t seem that upset.’
‘Truthfully? I’m not. Being married to Niall was like being a single mother anyway. He never made any effort. He’s selfish. I ended up doing everything. I’ll let you into a secret.’ Yasmin lowered her voice as another client headed past on her way to the tanning room. ‘I’m pretty sure this one wasn’t the first. I think he’s had other affairs.’
For a terrifying second, Roo felt the backs of her eyes prickle with tears. Stop it, stop it, don’t you dare do that… mentally she ordered the tears to sink back in.
‘You do?’
‘Oh yes. Anyway, never mind. I’ve only myself to blame. Niall was never what you’d call good husband material. I kidded myself we’d be OK.’ Absently Yasmin smoothed more aloe vera gel on to Roo’s eyebrows. ‘My friends tried to warn me, but I wouldn’t listen. It’s funny, isn’t it? I was so sure I could change him. I thought loving him would be enough. But it wasn’t. And he didn’t want to change. Why would he, when he could carry on having his cake and eating it and helping himself to chocolate biscuits too?’
Roo swallowed. She’d been one of the chocolate biscuits.
‘So… is he still seeing this girl?’ she ventured. ‘The ex-work colleague?’
‘No idea. He says not. But that’s the thing with Niall; he says lots of things. I just don’t listen anymore. There, the redness is fading. Do you want to sit up?’
Roo did as she was told. Was Yasmin putting on a brave front or was she genuinely taking the breakup in her stride?
‘Can I ask you something?’ said Yasmin.
The ground tilted. Oh God, what now?
‘Go on.’
‘The first time you came here, you had a ton of makeup on. But since then, you haven’t worn any at all. It’s not a criticism,’ Yasmin said hastily. ‘You’re still really pretty. I just wondered why you’d stopped, that’s all.’
At last, she could be honest.
‘I wanted a change. To be a different person.’ Roo stood up, followed her across to the pay desk, and took out her purse. ‘I didn’t like what I’d become. And makeup was my armor. I used to spend a fortune on eye shadows and mascaras… it was crazy. So I decided to give them all up and go back to being just me.’
‘Wow, good for you. Gosh, thanks.’ Yasmin’s eyes widened as Roo handed her the money for the threading plus a twenty pound tip. ‘Are you sure?’
It was guilt money, pure and simple. But it made her feel better; it was one of her prime reasons for coming here. And she had a lot more giving to do yet.
‘Absolutely,’ said Roo.
***
Zack was in Monte Carlo. Ellie had just received a text from him: ‘Helicopter fantastic. The only way to travel. Thanks for thinking of it. All OK at the office? Z.’
Smiling to herself, she pictured him in the helicopter, circling Monte Carlo, as excited as a small boy as he picked out the multimillion-pound yachts bobbing in the glittering aquamarine water of the harbor.
Ellie texted back: ‘Have sold your company and run off to Barbados with the proceeds. Byeeeee…’
She pressed Send, then began a second text: ‘OK, maybe I haven’t. Knew you’d love helicopter. No need for thanks, I am your brilliant PA. All fine this end. Have fun!’
As she was sending it, the post clattered through the letter box out in the hall. Ellie went to pick it up. Anything business, she opened and dealt with if necessary. Anything that looked personal, she left for Zack. But among today’s delivery was a postcard. On the front was a picture of boxing kangaroos. The lady kangaroo, complete with lipstick and pinny, was raising her front legs in victory. The man kangaroo, clutching a can of beer and a bush hat, lay flat on his back.
On the back of the card was a scrawled message:
Hi Zack, I’m coming home! Lost my phone, so don’t have your number. Call me at Mum’s any time after the 29th August. Missed you so much and can’t wait to see you again.
All love, Meg xxxxx
Meg. The mix of emotions she was becoming all too familiar with reappeared. Zack had mentioned Meg once or twice when they’d talked about past relationships. He’d been busy building up his business, Meg had worked as a journalist on a glossy magazine and their affair had ebbed and flowed over the course of several months,
until Meg had been persuaded by a girlfriend to take off on a round-the-world trip. And that was it, she had gone.
When Zack had told her, Ellie had said, ‘Did you miss her terribly?’
And he replied, ‘Yes, I kind of did.’
‘What would have happened if she’d stayed here?’
Zack had shrugged. ‘Who knows.’
Ellie gazed at the postcard and wondered what might happen now that his former girlfriend was on her way back. What was she like? Had she changed while she’d been away? Did she deserve him?
Would Zack say casually, ‘Oh, by the way, you don’t need to give up your weekend to come down with me to my sister’s wedding. I’ll be taking Meg now instead.’
Just imagining him saying those words made Ellie want to stick her fingers in her ears and go, ‘La-la-la-can’t-hear-you!’ whilst inside she felt sick with disappointment because, Joe or no Joe, the trip down to Cornwall with Zack was something she’d been looking forward to more than she would admit to a living soul.
Or Jamie.
Rrrrrrrrrrrinnnnnngggggg.
Glad of the diversion, Ellie lobbed the postcard at Zack’s in-tray. It helicoptered through the air, skidded across the envelopes already sitting there, and slid down the back of the radiator.
Was that meant to happen? The temptation to leave it there, to pretend she hadn’t seen it disappear out of sight, was huge. What if this was fate’s way of letting her know that Zack and Meg shouldn’t get back together?
OK, front door first. Opening it, Ellie came face to face with a dumpy woman in her late fifties, with pale eyes and bushy caterpillar eyebrows. She was wearing a peach crimplene blouse and a turquoise pleated skirt, and it was probably safe to assume this wasn’t another of Zack’s former girlfriends.
At least, she hoped not.
Chapter 43
‘Hello, dear, is Zack at home?’
‘Sorry, he’s away. Maybe I can help you.’
