The First Mistake

by Sandie Jones

  ‘Yes,’ agreed Mum. ‘But once you start something like this, it tends to run out of control very quickly. The more work you do, the more problems it uncovers, especially with a house of this size and age. We’ve got the money to start it, but we haven’t got the bottomless pit that I know we’d need to finish it. And plus, I need to live, God willing, for as long as I can.’

  ‘Would you mind me asking a personal question?’ said Thomas.

  Mum and I looked at him, neither of us objecting.

  ‘Do you have a mortgage on this place?’

  ‘Goodness me, no,’ said Mum, shaking her head vehemently, as if he’d asked if she was having an affair with the Pope.

  ‘Mum doesn’t believe in having credit of any kind,’ I offered, by way of explanation.

  ‘My husband never borrowed a penny from anyone,’ she said, proudly. ‘His family built up the business through sheer hard work and determination, first in Italy and then over here. Folk used to think they were the mafia.’ Her shoulders shook as she laughed at the memory. ‘They must have thought he was extorting money! But he was just an honest, hard-working man who didn’t owe anybody anything. He used to say, If you haven’t got it, don’t spend it, and he would turn in his grave if I went against that now.’

  ‘So, why don’t we invest the money you do have,’ I said, not knowing where the idea had even come from. It sounded absurd before I’d even finished the sentence, but still I went on. ‘If we can double that money, we can get the work done and you’ll have enough to live on.’

  I looked to Thomas for confirmation. ‘There are lots of investment opportunities out there,’ he said. ‘I, for one, have never had a client walk away with less than a hundred per cent return. Even from the very first deal.’

  Mum looked at me with wide eyes. ‘Are you suggesting I put everything into wine?’

  ‘You think it’s foolproof, don’t you?’ I said, turning to Thomas.

  ‘Well . . . yes,’ he said, ‘but . . .’

  ‘Tell Mum about Rodriguez,’ I said. ‘Tell her how much he started off with and how much you helped turn it into.’

  ‘He’s probably not the best example,’ he said.

  ‘Why?’ I asked, wondering which part I’d misunderstood.

  ‘Because I have clients who have done even better than him.’

  ‘Oh,’ I said, standing corrected. ‘Well, why don’t you tell Mum about them then?’

  ‘Rodriguez is a new client and is just dipping his toe in the water at the moment, but he’s already turned thirty thousand into a hundred thousand in just a few months. Beth met him the other night, and he’s very happy with what I’m doing for him, isn’t he?’

  I nodded enthusiastically.

  ‘But my biggest client, Seamus Harrison, started off with a budget of twenty thousand two years ago, and it currently stands at just over a million. He’s been able to give up his job in the city and go back to Ireland, where he spends his time training racehorses. He’d never have been able to do that without shrewd investments.’

  ‘And I suppose you make your money from their windfalls?’ asked Mum.

  ‘I work on commission, yes,’ he said. ‘I love what I do; the biggest kick being the ridiculous amounts of money that I can raise for my clients.’

  Mum nodded thoughtfully and as I caught her eye, she raised her eyebrows as if silently posing the question I could hear loud and clear. Are you absolutely sure you know what you’re doing?

  ‘Shall we see how we get on with the wines we’ve got to sell first?’ I said, in answer. ‘If that’s successful, we can talk about further investments.’

  ‘Sounds like a sensible plan,’ said Thomas. ‘Let’s start from there.’

  23

  ‘Well, that was relatively painless,’ I said, as we waved goodbye from the car.

  ‘She’s lovely,’ Thomas said, offering her a wide smile and sticking his hand out the window as we pulled away, crunching gravel as we went.

  ‘She liked you, too,’ I said, unable to stop smiling.

  The two most important people in my life liked each other, and as I leant back on the headrest, it felt as if everything in my world was aligned. Great tentacles of happiness spread their way through my body, working their way to the very tips of my fingers, making them tingle. I wanted to hold onto this feeling for as long as I could, knowing that within seconds something could happen to snatch it away.

  ‘I’m not going into work until later tomorrow,’ I said, dreamily.

  ‘Oh, why’s that?’ he asked.

  ‘I’m supposed to be planning the outdoor pursuits trip that we’re going on the week after next.’

  ‘Ah, yes, is this the five days of hell in Snowdonia?’ He grimaced. ‘With thirty snotty-nosed kids, who are going to be up all night, and murder all day.’

  I laughed. ‘You can come if you want.’

  ‘I’d rather stick pins in my eyes,’ he said, shuddering.

  ‘Don’t you want children?’ I asked, taking myself by surprise.

  The pause that followed, whilst he considered his answer, was enough to pop the precarious happy bubble that I’d put myself in. I’ve overstepped the line. He thinks I’m too pushy. Why have I ruined everything?

  ‘Eventually,’ he said. ‘But only at the right time, when I know I’m with the woman I want to be with for the rest of my life.’

  I could sense him turning to look at me, but I stayed focused on the road ahead, too scared to see the look in his eyes, in case they said it wasn’t me.

  ‘So anyways,’ I said, far too casually, ‘I wondered if we could go back to your place tonight. I’d love to see where you live – have somewhere to picture you in when we’re not together.’

  ‘Ah, that would have been awesome, but I’m up at the crack of dawn tomorrow.’

  I could feel my bubble deflate even more, as if it were a very real, tangible thing. But instead of wallowing in my own paranoia, I took a different tack.

  ‘That’s okay, I’ll get up with you and go home.’

  ‘That’s not going to work,’ he said. ‘It’s Sod’s Law. Any other day would be fine, but I need to be at the airport by five thirty in the morning.’

  I turned in my chair. ‘The airport? You didn’t tell me you were going anywhere.’ I could hear the accusatory tone in my voice and flinched. He didn’t owe me anything.

  ‘What . . .? Yes, I did. I told you I was going to Spain for a couple of days.’

  Suddenly, it wasn’t about him going, but him not telling me he was going.

  ‘When?’ I asked, knowing full well he’d not said a word.

  ‘The other night, after the burglary. I told you I was going to Spain to meet an investor who had some vintage rioja to sell.’

  If he’d have said any other time, I would have believed him. But after the burglary I was feeling particularly vulnerable, and if he’d told me he was going away, I’m sure I would have remembered – nervous at the thought.

  ‘You didn’t,’ I said. ‘This is the first I’ve heard of it.’

  He laughed. ‘I definitely told you. You said that it was a shame that we weren’t away at the same time. Anyway, what’s the biggie?’

  ‘There is no “biggie”,’ I said, putting the word in speech marks. ‘You just didn’t tell me, that’s all.’

  ‘Well, I’m sorry if you don’t remember, but I’m telling you again now. I’m going to Spain tomorrow and am back on Wednesday.’

  ‘Don’t talk to me like I’m a child,’ I said, my voice rising. ‘I don’t care that you’re going away. You can do whatever you want, go wherever you want, with whoever you want to go with, but don’t tell me I already knew something when I didn’t.’

  ‘Jeez, why are you getting so stressed out about it? Is it because you haven’t been to my place yet?’

  ‘It’s got nothing to do with that,’ I said, though I had to admit, it didn’t help. He’d come to my flat over a dozen times, we’d been to London probably the same
again, yet his place, which was allegedly just west of town, had somehow managed to elude us.

  ‘Listen, when I get back from Spain, I’ll do dinner at mine,’ he said, sounding conciliatory. ‘Would that make you happy?’

  ‘Don’t you dare patronize me,’ I screeched, incensed. ‘Making out as if you’re doing me a favour.’

  ‘You’re being ridiculous,’ he said, pulling up outside my flat and turning the engine off.

  ‘Don’t bother getting out,’ I yelled as I retrieved Tyson from the boot. ‘You’d better get off home for your beauty sleep.’

  ‘Are you being serious?’ he asked incredulously, through the open window. ‘You’re honestly going to leave it like this?’

  ‘Have a nice trip,’ I said, without looking back.

  24

  When ‘Hot Guy’ flashed up continually throughout my lunch hour the next day, I had to turn my phone over.

  ‘Problem?’ asked Maria through a mouthful of ham sandwich.

  ‘Not really,’ I said tartly, unable to keep the vitriol I felt from spilling out.

  ‘I can’t believe you’ve still got him stored as “Hot Guy” on your phone,’ she laughed, in an attempt to defuse the atmosphere. ‘Does he know?’

  I shrugged and felt tension creeping up from the base of my neck. ‘I’m seriously thinking of renaming him Dickhead.’

  ‘Uh-oh,’ she sang. ‘Trouble in paradise. Is this your first lovers’ tiff? What did he do?’

  ‘We rowed about going to his place,’ I said. ‘He made something so simple so complicated.’

  ‘About going to his place, or not going?’ she asked.

  ‘I wanted to go, but he said it wasn’t convenient.’ Even as I was saying it, it sounded immature. ‘So when we got back to mine, I forbade him to come in.’

  Maria choked on her sandwich. ‘That’s a bit extreme, isn’t it?’

  ‘He was an extreme arsehole, so the punishment befitted the crime.’

  ‘So, this is him, trying to crawl back into your good books,’ said Maria, giving a nod to my phone, still vibrating its way along the staff room coffee table.

  ‘He flew to Spain this morning, so I’m assuming he’s ringing me to say that he got there safely. But he can call all he likes, because I really don’t care.’

  Maria rolled her eyes and picked up my phone, which was in danger of buzzing itself off the table.

  ‘Jesus, he’s called twenty-three times,’ she said. ‘I think he’s done his penance, don’t you?’ It started ringing again, and she accepted the call before throwing the phone at me.

  ‘Yep,’ I barked down the phone, with all the sassiness I could muster.

  ‘It’s me,’ he said.

  ‘No shit, Sherlock. What do you want?’

  ‘I’ve had an accident,’ he said. ‘I’m in hospital.’

  My blood ran cold and I momentarily lost the ability to focus. ‘What? Where?’ was all I could manage.

  Maria instinctively came towards me, her presence a welcome anchor in the stormy sea I’d suddenly been immersed in.

  ‘I’m in Spain,’ he said, his voice slow. ‘I’ve been hit by a car.’

  ‘Oh my God,’ I said, bringing my hand up to my mouth. ‘Are you going to be okay? Where are you? I’ll come over.’

  ‘No, it’s fine,’ he said. ‘I’m fine, just bruised and sore. They’re going to take an X-ray. They suspect I’ve got a broken arm and they’re keeping me in overnight, just as a precaution.’

  ‘What about the car?’ I asked, though I don’t know why.

  ‘Well, that’s got a me-shaped dent in it,’ he said, attempting to laugh before saying, ‘Ouch, that hurts.’ I wondered how people in pain actually had the wherewithal to say ‘Ouch’.

  ‘I can come out there,’ I said, as Maria nodded in agreement, intimating that she’d cover for me. ‘I can be there later tonight, if I can get a flight. Honestly, I—’

  ‘No,’ he said with surprising force, though it was probably the best course of action as I was beginning to babble and struggling not to cry.

  ‘Will you be okay? Have they said when you might be able to fly home?’

  ‘Not yet, but it doesn’t look like I’ll be out of here any time soon. I’m just worried that I’ll not be able to get back to see you before you go off on your trip.’

  I fell back onto the staff room sofa. ‘Listen, about last night—’ I started.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, cutting across me. ‘It was a silly argument and I’m sorry that it got out of hand.’

  ‘I’m sorry too,’ I said. ‘I got a bee in my bonnet and was completely unreasonable.’

  ‘You weren’t,’ he said. ‘You’re right about my place. Once we’re both home, why don’t we spend the weekend together? Stay at mine and I’ll show you the delights of Maida Vale.’

  Now that he was offering it, it didn’t seem nearly so important. It didn’t matter where we stayed, just as long as we were together. Him having an accident seemed to hammer the point home even more.

  ‘Are you sure you don’t want me to come over?’ I said.

  ‘No, honestly, I want you to stay where you are. But before you go, I’ve got some good news.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘I managed to sell your mum’s wine collection, just before the accident. In fact, it’s why I was on my phone and probably not paying attention when I crossed the road.’

  If I didn’t already feel guilty, I certainly did now.

  ‘Guess how much I got?’ he went on.

  ‘No, go on,’ I said, wondering if it even mattered anymore.

  ‘Seven thousand,’ he said, as excitedly as one can sound when they’re probably in traction and being held together with metal pins. I reminded myself of my tendency to over-dramatize.

  ‘Wow,’ I said, listlessly. ‘That’s amazing.’

  ‘It means she’ll be able to get cracking with the work,’ he said. ‘It’ll at least tide her over until the big one comes in. That’s if she decides to do it, of course.’

  ‘Let’s talk when you get back,’ I said. ‘Are you sure you don’t want me to come over?’

  ‘Honestly, I’m fine,’ he said. ‘I just wanted to let you know and to say I’m sorry. I’ll call you later, once I have more news.’

  ‘Okay.’

  There was a pause before he said, ‘I love you.’

  In that split second I almost knew he was going to say it, yet I still wasn’t ready for it and didn’t know how to respond. Would he think I was weak if I said it back? Would he hate me for not? I wanted to, because it’s how I felt, but my brain was waging a war against itself, weighing up the pros and cons of being honest.

  ‘You too,’ was what I eventually came up with, and immediately regretted it. It wasn’t enough – he deserved more.

  ‘See you, then,’ he said despondently, and I put the phone down, furious that I’d caused his insecurity all because I wanted to what? Save face? I couldn’t stop a tear from springing onto my cheek.

  ‘Hey, hey . . .’ said Maria, as she carefully lifted a bourbon biscuit out of her tea and ate it whole before coming to sit down next to me. ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘He said, “I love you”,’ I blurted out.

  She snorted. ‘And that’s why you’re so upset?’

  I nodded. ‘I didn’t say it back,’ I sobbed, and immediately realized how ridiculous I sounded.

  To be fair to Maria, she didn’t do what I would have done if I’d been in her shoes. She refrained from slapping me around the cheek and telling me to pull myself together.

  ‘And he’s been in a car accident,’ I cried, as if it was secondary to me not telling him how I felt.

  ‘Okay, so now I want to slap you,’ she said, making me laugh.

  ‘I’d do it to myself if I could,’ I said, sniffing.

  ‘There’s nothing to stop you,’ she smiled. ‘I assume he’s okay, if you’re able to stress about other inconsequential bollocks?’

  I nodded,
embarrassed.

  ‘So, he’s gone from being a complete dickhead two minutes ago to someone you love so much you can’t tell him?’

  ‘Something like that,’ I said, smiling.

  25

  I couldn’t wait to see Thomas when he eventually got home four days later. Despite his promise to go to his flat, he asked if I could just be patient for a little while longer as it was in a bit of a state, and all the time his arm was in a sling, he wasn’t able to get it ready for me.

  ‘You deserve more,’ he said on the phone. But I didn’t care where we met by then, I just needed to see him.

  I jumped up onto him as I opened the door, wrapping my legs tightly around him, breathing him in, not wanting to ever let go.

  ‘Steady on,’ he laughed. ‘Watch the arm.’

  ‘I love you,’ I whispered, in between kisses. His mouth broke into a wide grin, and all the pent-up emotions I’d unknowingly held within were released. Like a flock of birds taking flight.

  I’d prepared dinner, but knew that our sexual appetite would probably need to be sated before our desire to eat kicked in. Without breaking our kiss, and somewhere between his T-shirt coming off and my jeans being unbuttoned, I guided him into the kitchen and deftly turned down the temperature on the oven.

  ‘You are incredible,’ he said afterwards, as we lay spent on the bed.

  Still out of breath, he lifted himself off the pillow and leant in to give me the softest of kisses. ‘I love you and don’t ever want to be away from you again,’ he whispered.

  I felt a knot in my stomach as I realized I’d have to remind him that I was about to go away for five days. I wondered if there was any way I could get out of the school trip. For the first time in my life, I seriously considered throwing a sickie. My yearning to be with Thomas clearly overrode my normally resolute conscience.

  ‘You haven’t forgotten I’m going away on Monday, have you?’ I said quietly, not really wanting him to hear me. Because if he didn’t hear me, I still had time to think of a reason not to go.

  He pulled away from me. ‘Shit!’

  It was hard enough as it was, I didn’t need him to make it even more so.