‘Yes,’ said Guy, gulping down a big ball of adrenalin.
‘Yes what, lad?’
‘Yes, I’ll buy Burgerov from you, Kenny. Providing the offer’s good.’
‘It’ll be a good one. I promise you that.’
Guy was shivering with anticipation as he took Kenny Moulding’s outstretched hand and shook it firmly. He felt the stirring of change in his soul. Change usually unsettled him, but for the first time in ages, Guy Miller felt an inner strength awaken within him and embraced it.
Chapter 14
Coco rang Juliet at work first thing Monday morning.
‘Firstly, you’ve sat on your mobile phone AGAIN and accidentally called me. Will you please take me off speed-dial, Ju. Or lose weight off your arse.’
‘Oops, sorry – yes I will. I’ll do it now. Take you off speed-dial, that is.’
‘You said that last time.’
‘Soon as I end the call, I swear. I won’t forget again.’
‘Good. Anyway, listen to my news – I’ve got a date!’ Coco screamed down the phone so loudly that Juliet had to hold the phone away from her ear before he deafened her.
‘From the internet dating site? Already?’ said Juliet.
‘Yep. Soon as I got home on Friday night, I uploaded my photo and I’ve had loads of replies. I’ve chosen one in Bretton. He’s gorgeous – ticks every box. I’m meeting him tonight. He’s called Gideon and he works with computers. He sounds very brainy. Apparently he has a photographic memory.’
‘I hope you’ve picked somewhere central and well-lit to meet up,’ warned Juliet. ‘I don’t want to read about you dead in a field in tomorrow’s newspaper.’
‘Well, that would put a dampener on my day if I let it,’ huffed Coco. ‘Actually I’m meeting him in Papa Giuseppe’s in Barnsley town centre. We both really like Italian. We have so much in common, it’s amazing.’
‘Report back tomorrow,’ Juliet ordered, before slamming the phone down quickly because Piers Winstanley-Black was entering the building. Today he was resplendent in a navy pinstripe suit. He swaggered in, breezing past her desk, giving the smallest of ‘good morning’ greetings knowing that his crumb of a salutation was enough to have the office hearts – and pants – melting. Arrogance was coming off him in waves and scored a direct hit on Juliet’s libido. If only she could have five minutes in a locked room with him, she grinned to herself, he’d never look at another woman again.
‘He is one sexy man,’ growled Daphne, pausing from data-inputting. ‘What a shame he’s not into older women.’
‘Or short ones,’ added Amanda.
Juliet didn’t say anything, she simply mouthed, ‘You will be mine,’ in the direction of his office.
Just after lunch Juliet sneaked a peek at her date-site web page to find that she had mail. And from the profile pic, he wasn’t half bad either. At five feet nine – the same height as she was – he was a bit shorter than she would have liked, but the photo, albeit a bit grainy, showed him to have a nice open smile and well-looked-after teeth.
Hi, the mail began. I really liked your profile and your photograph. My name is Ralph (pronounced Ralph not Rafe like some pretentious people do!). I have my own small printing business, own house, own teeth, own hair, own limbs and head. Fancy a chat on MSN later?
Juliet nodded at the screen as if transmitting a yes. Not bad-looking, suit-wearer, good sense of humour, can spell ‘pretentious’. It was looking rather promising so far.
Floz had written four poems about dying now and was emotionally worn out. There were only so many variations on a theme and she was, like the poor future recipients of the cards, rather near the end. She knew this range would ‘die a death’. No one could say that Lee Status wasn’t innovative, but this was just too left field to convince her that he had a winner on his hands.
It wasn’t the first time Lee had had an extreme idea. The greetings-card market was a broad-minded one, but it only took a prominent news event to alter the tide of buying. No one wanted to buy greetings cards with guns on them any more after all the spree killings there had been in recent years. Lee’s greetings-card range based on serial killers was insensitive at the best of times, but his Harold Shipman card with its The older you get the more attractive I find you sentiment inside caused outrage, even in the trendy avant garde card shops. Still, Lee was a big believer in ‘no press is bad press’, and though the cards ended up getting pulped, he still managed to upgrade his Porsche that year to a newer model.
Floz decided that she couldn’t write these poems for the terminally ill any more. It was too depressing a job. She sent off what she had written so far to Lee and refreshed her mailbox. And there she saw a name she had never thought she would see again: Nick Vermeer.
Floz’s skin prickled with a mix of emotions she couldn’t define. So it was Nick who had been sending her the ‘Cherrylips’ messages. And now he had contacted her directly. She wanted to double-click and open it but she was scared of the words that would be released. And what they would do to her. She should delete it. The last email she had from him was eighteen months ago. She had carried on writing to him through the summer, hoping to coax a reply from him, but received nothing. Exactly a year ago, she had decided that he was dead to her, and that if he ever deigned to contact her again after so cruelly disappearing, she would delete the email without a second thought. But now, faced with precious contact from him, she could no more have consigned his email to the recycle bin than she could have shaved off her own eyebrows with Juliet’s epilator. Slowly she positioned the cursor over the mail and made a double-left click.
Cherrylips
They say every story needs an ending even if its not the happily ever after one.I told you my dad had died,but I’m not sure if I ever told you how.I got to watch my dad battle cancer and lose and the effect that had on my mom.
I was and still am totally entranced by an English girl and now its late enough to let her know.I went for my pre-med the February before last to get ready for a new engineering contract in Cuba.Hit 40+ and they bring up a test that makes you wish you were 39.Results of that,the PSA test and a biopsy said that any relationship that I might have would be short.The big C likes its home too much in my prostate to leave it.I hate short stories that have no happy endings.Did my surgery,did my chemo and promised my mom I would live forever.July this year my follow up said that promise cannot be kept.Acute lymphocytic leukemia hits about one in a thousand who take chemo.Can’t win a lottery with those odds but I did it this time.Going for the last kick at the can tomorrow but I’ve settled my affairs.All except for one. I would have loved the chance to know you better,but that was not to be.My disappearance was me trying to deal with what was happening.How do you explain that to someone far away?I read your website,and try to follow your life from a distance.
I almost got to know a great woman,I regret that I never did.
Nick V
Floz read it again and again. By the middle of the third reading she couldn’t see the screen for the tears running out of her eyes. She knew after all the exchanges they’d had that he wouldn’t have just abandoned her without good reason. They hadn’t met, but there had been a long and strong connection between them; they had talked for hours on the phone, written, made plans. They had gotten to really know each other through the power of their words.
Floz knew she had to send a reply back immediately, and the words poured out of her. The portal was open between her and Nick again and she didn’t want it to close.
Nick
To hear from you is the worst kind of relief. I wondered so many times what had happened to you, where you were, if you were okay. I’ve grown into the philosophy over the years that if someone wants to contact you, then they will – if they don’t, then they just aren’t interested. In your case I went against all my instincts and kept writing because I never expected to like you as much as I did. It was a surprise to discover feelings that ran stupidly deep, considering I’d never me
t you.
I’m still single, of course. I think I’m too complicated a person to find a match.
I’m edging around the subject because I can’t think of a damn suitable thing to say to you. I’m incredibly sorry to hear your news and yet I find myself so touched that you wrote. It’s knocked every bit of stuffing out of me.
I would have loved the chance to get to know you better too. I enjoyed writing to you – witty, sexy, intelligent men are very thin on the ground. I think we would have made a formidable couple in a parallel universe – if not a conventional one. But then convention and I have always been strangers. Who knows where stories end? I’ve never been one to believe that all that energy and life disappears into nothing.
I’ll think about you lots, darling. And I wish SO much that I could have touched you.
Cherrylips xxx
She hit send, not bothering to edit her email but deciding instead to send the first draft, written with an open heart and through vision blurred with streaming tears. If there was any power in words, would he be a little healed by the force of hers? She hoped so, but knew she was deluding herself. She cried until her eyes were sore and her tears were spent.
Chapter 15
Guy barked at Varto after catching him picking wax out of his ear and wiping it on his apron. When this place was his, he really was going to kick some ass, but he would keep his takeover quiet for now, as Kenny had requested. However, once his name was on the paperwork, Varto would be booted out along with all the other dross Kenny employed. Guy nursed the secret thrill of being able to fill the place with some really keen staff who wanted to learn from him and not just dollop listeria on a plate. People who got real satisfaction out of food, who wanted to create with it and be proud of it – people who didn’t want to poison customers.
He looked up from his reverie and caught Gina staring at him with her baby-blues. She tore them away quickly, embarrassed. He knew she had the hots for him and wished he could feel the same. But life had a habit of not making things that easy.
He wondered if being a restaurant-owner would give him extra attractiveness points in Floz’s eyes. Maybe he should suggest a family dinner where he could deliver the news of his impending buyout and cook a fabulous roast for them all? Sunday. He wasn’t working Sunday – yes, he would do it then.
Chapter 16
‘Are you okay?’ asked Juliet.
Floz was going through the motions of being her usual self but there was something not quite right. Juliet wouldn’t have been surprised had she looked up and seen a big black cloud over her new friend’s head. And her eyes looked a bit glassy, as if she’d been crying recently.
‘I’m fine,’ said Floz, switching on an instant 3,000-watt smile so bright and perfect it was as plastic as Barbie’s knockers.
‘Well, you obviously aren’t,’ said Juliet. ‘But I shan’t pry. Even though I want to. Glass of red?’ She got up from the couch just as the Emmerdale music started and headed for the drinks cabinet.
‘I’m just a bit tired,’ Floz explained. ‘I’ve been doing a really awful brief about sending . . . sending cards to people who are dying.’ She tried to hold it together but burst into tears. Her stocks of them had been replenished, it seemed.
‘Oh bloody hell. What an awful thing to have to do!’ said Juliet, whose curiosity was now totally satisfied. She had sensed almost straight away that Floz was a softie and yep, that must have been truly harrowing for her. She made short work of opening up the bottle of wine and poured two large glasses.
‘Thanks,’ said Floz, and smiled at her warm concern. She opened her mouth to tell Juliet about Nick, then snapped it shut straight afterwards. It was a miserable subject and a strange one. Juliet might not have understood how close you could grow to someone you had never met, and she didn’t want Juliet to think ill of her.
Plus, coming from a military family that moved from house to house, country to country, Floz found it hard to trust and keep friends, having grown accustomed early on to being ripped away from them. But here at Blackberry Court, Juliet felt like the first friend in her life who would be a constant – and as such, her opinion mattered.
‘That’s lovely,’ said Floz, taking a long sip and trying not to think of what Nick’s reaction would be to her email, and if he would reply. Her emotions were so raw, it was as if the top layer of her skin had been ripped right away, and it hurt for even breath to brush past.
‘I’ve got something that will cheer you up a bit,’ said Juliet. ‘I had a text from Guy. He’s cooking Sunday lunch at Mum’s for us – his flat is far too poky. Steve will be there as well, alas.’ Again she huffed on that name.
‘Lovely,’ said Floz, because she couldn’t think of anything else to say. Food was the last thing on her mind. And the re-emergence of Nick Vermeer had driven all thoughts of the hunky, Heathcliff-like Guy Miller from her head.
She began to feign tiredness early on so she could make a legitimate break for her computer and write another email. It had started to play on her mind that the one she’d written was pitched wrong. Juliet had plans of her own too, and bade Floz goodnight.
Dearest Nick
I knew as soon as I hit that send button this afternoon that I’d be reprimanding myself all day – have I said too much, have I said enough, have I said the right thing?
I pray I read your email wrong and there is more hope than you can see. And if it makes it easier for you to contact me again, do. Likewise if it doesn’t – don’t. I understand.
I just wanted to say that my affection for and fascination with you stays with me. Despite the fact that we didn’t meet, I feel I know you so well. You were always a hard act to follow. No one even came close, to be honest.
I hope your sisters and your family are giving you comfort and love – I’m sure they are. And I am, of course, just at the end of an email or a phone if there is anything that I can do for you.
Love, Cherrylips xxx
Floz only hoped that the walls were thick enough in the flat for Juliet not to hear her sobbing. Or her heart breaking, because she was sure she had just felt it crack loudly within her chest.
Juliet logged straight onto singlebods.com when Floz turned in. She thought she might have a trawl through the site and see if there was anyone living within a ten-mile radius who didn’t have two heads.
There were a few messages waiting for her in her ‘contact centre’. The first was succinct: Life is to short, so let’s do it alnight. And accompanying this was the topless profile pic of a grubby-looking man with a face like a pickled, deformed walnut. Juliet grimaced and blocked him from contacting her again. She felt as if she needed a shower simply from looking at his photo. The second was from the sci-fi fan who liked romantic walks and sofa-snogging.
So, did you liked what you saw when you checked me out then I have a supreme package (Juliet doubted that) so I can see whose viewed me, so I can return the favuor and say hello to them and if I like what I see I can say would you like to come out for a coffee with me we can meet somewere pubic (she hoped he meant public) and see were we go from there what about it then hon?
Apart from the fact that he had never heard of a full-stop, she said to the screen: ‘Thanks but no thanks.’ She had no intention of dignifying it with a written reply.
The third email was from Ralph.
Hi, just wondered if you were around for a natter. If so, I’ll probably be on my computer working this evening so let’s hook up on MSN? Here’s my email . . .
It was either a crime documentary about the Great Train Robbers on the TV or an evening forging a link with a potential lover. Juliet typed in her request to hook up with Ralph on the net. Two hours later, after a very pleasant virtual chat, she found herself looking forward to dinner with him the following evening.
Chapter 17
Floz awoke late the next morning and could tell she must have been crying in her sleep because her cheek and the pillow beneath it were wet. It was a bitter-sweet experienc
e for the lines of communication between Nick and herself to be open again. As she typed her next email to him, her mind tried to fill in the blanks of the last eighteen months: what he had suffered. The timing was so tragic. Floz thought that if she had been so poorly, she would have wanted to reach out instead, not pull back. But wouldn’t that have been selfish and grasping of her – to take a relationship one step further when it had no future? She didn’t know. To do what Nick had done required strength that she obviously didn’t have. All she did know was that she was grateful Nick had come back into her life and that she doubted she would get any rest until he left it again – for the final time.
Juliet was so excited about the prospect of a real live date that she almost forgot to swoon when Piers Winstanley-Black sauntered into the office. Coco rang from his Perfume Palace just before the clock touched 9 a.m., as was his usual habit.
‘Well, how did it go? I’ve been dying for you to ring me. You must have at least five missed calls from me,’ said Juliet excitedly.
‘I’ve only just got in!’ said Coco. ‘I’ve been up all night talking!’
‘Only talking?’
‘Well, and snogging a bit,’ said Coco with a blush in his voice.
‘Yuk, two men snogging – I’m going to be sick.’
‘Oy, cheeky. And he paid for me.’
‘What – you charged him to snog you?’ teased Juliet.
‘Silly. I mean he paid for everything. Wouldn’t let me put my hand in my wallet at all. There’s a first, I can tell you,’ tutted Coco.
‘Ooh, that’s impressive,’ said Juliet, who had never been out on a date with anyone as generous.
‘He. Is. Gorgeous. I’m in love.’
‘Oh God, here we go again,’ said Juliet. ‘Anyway, you’re not the only one with a date. I’ve got one as well. Tonight. I’m going shopping at lunchtime if you want to meet me and help me pick a new frock.’
An Autumn Crush Page 8
