A Summer Fling (36 page)

‘Anyway, enough about me, how are you, Grace?’ said Dawn, deflecting attention away from herself. ‘Just because I haven’t asked this week, it doesn’t mean I haven’t thought about you. You must be fed up of answering that same question though and you know what I’m like, always putting my foot in it.’

‘I’m fine, pet,’ said Grace with a lovely smile. ‘I just have a lot of things to think about. The house will have to be sold and I can’t imagine that Gordon is going to be very flexible on that front. I’m taking it all in bite-sized pieces.’

‘I think that’s very wise,’ said Raychel. She was involving herself more in their conversations recently, rather than hanging back. Part of her was really freeing itself up. And it felt so good. ‘Pub tomorrow after work as norm?’

‘I think I can safely plan that far ahead, yes,’ said Grace.

‘You as well, Dawn?’ asked Raychel.

Dawn smiled for the first time since last Friday.

‘That guitarist can’t keep his eyes off you!’ said Anna, nudging Dawn.

‘He can so!’ protested Dawn.

‘He’s very handsome,’ said Grace.

‘He looks very sexy with that floppy Elvis hair,’ said Christie.

‘And the guitar makes him even sexier, if that’s possible,’ added Anna. ‘Imagine him playing you like that.’

‘Oh, wow!’ said Dawn dreamily, forgetting temporarily to play it cool.

‘I told you, you fancied him!’ came a merry chorus, pointing fingers at Dawn and poking her.

‘I don’t fancy him,’ she laughed, ‘but I do think he’s nice. How could I not? We like the same music.’

‘So you’re making beautiful music together,’ teased Christie.

‘I didn’t say that!’ said Dawn. ‘But he is a really lovely bloke. If I weren’t getting married, I might let myself fancy him.’ Then, for the benefit of Anna, she added quickly, ‘But I am, so I’m not allowed.’ It wouldn’t have seemed right confessing that she had a bit of a crush on Al Holly when Anna’s man was bonking another woman. She remembered how she had flown at Christie that one time for saying something about taking a married lover. She didn’t want any of them to think ill of her.

‘Ah, don’t panic. We’re only having you on,’ said Anna, hoping that she hadn’t frightened Dawn into refuting that she liked the guitarist because of her fit in the pub about mistresses.

‘So what are we all up to this weekend?’ asked Christie. ‘Anna, how’s the filming going?’

‘I’m getting into my stride,’ Anna winked, ‘though half of me thinks I must be mad. I’m going to have no control about what footage they use. There’s a bit of a difference in an experienced film crew seeing my bad underwear and the rest of England – including all the pervs. Like Malcolm, for instance.’

‘Bet he tapes it so he can see you on a continuous loop,’ grinned Dawn.

‘Stop, you’ll make me vomit!’

She almost told them about Tony and his presents, but she jammed her mouth shut just before the first word came out. It wasn’t as if there was anything to tell at the moment and she didn’t want to jinx anything by blabbing yet.

‘I’ve got my bridesmaids’ dresses fitting tomorrow,’ volunteered Dawn.

‘What colour are you going for again?’ asked Raychel.

‘Peach,’ came the answer. ‘The same colour, actually, that’s on the ribbon on the wedding invites. I’ve got all the favours to wrap up in the same colour tissue paper, and I’ve also got to ring up about the cake and the flowers, so it’s going to be a wedding-heavy weekend.’

‘You sound a bit chirpier today than you have all week,’ said Anna.

‘I’m gradually getting less stressed and more excited,’ she lied.

‘Maybe it’s that guitarist who’s cheering you up,’ said Raychel.

‘Oh, don’t you start!’ said Dawn. She didn’t deny it though, because when Al Holly was nearby she couldn’t stop that smile rising up from within her and spreading across her face. She virtually sunbathed in his presence.

They all stayed for an extra drink so Dawn missed Al’s break. She was twitching to get to him but couldn’t exactly leave the company so she stayed after the others had gone until the end of that night’s gig. It wasn’t a hardship. She sat at the bar and just watched him. She started to imagine, as Anna had said, that he was playing her like she was a guitar and then had to thrash those thoughts down with a mental sledgehammer.

‘Ah, Dawny Sole,’ said Al, coming straight over to her after resting his guitar on the stand. ‘And how are you this evening?’

‘I’m good, and you?’

‘I’m good too. Drink?’

‘Er . . . please. What are you having?’

‘I’ve finished work so I’m having a beer.’

‘I’ll just have a Diet Coke, thank you. A small one.’

Al paid for the drinks.

‘Time is surely flying. We’ve only got three more Friday nights to play here now.’

‘Only three?’ said Dawn. Of course there were only three. But it sounded such a little number. It yanked her spirits right down.

‘Come and sit outside,’ said Al, picking up the drinks and leading her to the back of the pub where there was a beer garden. There was a free bench and table in the corner by the boundary hedge and that was where Al Holly headed. They sat opposite each other, their beers and a night-light candle between them, their hands sitting dangerously close on the surface of the table.

‘What a lovely evening,’ said Dawn, trying not to look at Al Holly’s unblinking eyes. The candlelight was dancing in them. ‘What’s the weather like in summer where you live?’

‘Ah, the weather question again!’ he said playfully.

‘Oh, be quiet and answer me.’

‘OK, it makes this look like the Arctic.’

‘Really?’

He nodded. ‘Well, a little exaggeration there, but nice and hot in summer and mild in the winter. Just the way I like it.’

‘Me too,’ said Dawn. ‘This is the first decent summer we’ve had for ages. It’s been absolutely sogging wet for the past couple of years.’

‘We have ski hills though. We’ve kind of got everything. Except the Kiss Me Quick hats.’ He grinned and his eyes crinkled up at the corners and something inside Dawn leaped and put her breathing out of sync. She shouldn’t be looking at this man and feeling these feelings. He was a constant feature in her head and being near him every Friday was like recharging a battery in her heart. He was supplanting every thought she had of Calum and he had no place to. Tomorrow she was getting her bridesmaids sorted and on Sunday she was wrapping up chocolates in peach tissue and ribbon in preparation for her wedding. She took a long sip of her drink that cooled her throat but did bugger all to still the palpitations.

‘Are you going straight home when you leave here? To Canada?’

‘Well, we have a few days in London, then we head off for home,’ said Al Holly. ‘Got a month relaxing by a lake fishing in the sun, then we set off for America on tour. You ever been?’

‘Me? Naw,’ said Dawn. ‘My foreign experience is limited to one Greek island and France as a schoolgirl. I don’t know why I bother even having a passport.’ She had renewed it for her honeymoon. Why?

Al took a long drink of beer and Dawn watched his throat. He had a strong neck that smoothed down to big shoulders. She wondered what he would look like without his shirt. His leg brushed accidentally against hers under the table as he shifted position.
Jesus Christ, she was going to leap on him in a minute and rip his clothes off.

‘Is this your first trip to England?’ she asked instead.

He shook his head. ‘No, I’ve been before. Not to Yorkshire though. It’s been fun. Got some nice, happy memories to take back with me.’

He didn’t say what those memories were. As if he too was aware of the intensity between them, he dragged his eyes away from her and up to the sky where an aeroplane was ploughing across the heavens leaving a puffy trail behind it.

Dawn studied Al’s profile unwatched and suddenly wanted to drag her hands through his hair. He was gorgeous, he was beautiful. Too beautiful to bear this.

‘Al, I have to go,’ said Dawn, suddenly panicked by the surge of her feelings.

He didn’t protest. He didn’t point out that she had hardly touched her drink.

‘I understand,’ he said, staring thoughtfully at his beer.

How can you?
thought Dawn.
How can you understand that when I look at you my whole life seems to fall apart in the background?

She stood up and looped her bag over her shoulder. Al Holly scratched his head and sighed.

‘Hear me out, Dawny. I am not in the habit of making a play for other men’s girls, I just felt I had to say that. I like you a lot. I think we have that kindred spirit thing going on and I really look forward to seeing you for this little time on Fridays. But I’m not trying to complicate things for you and if I have, I’m really sorry. I hope you’ll be here next Friday and not stay away.’

‘Next Friday, erm . . .’ She would have had time to compose herself by then. She should say ‘no’. She should tell the others she couldn’t go to the pub again after work for a few weeks, then she wouldn’t be drawn close to this man like a moth to a flame. It could only end with third-degree burns to her wings. No, tell him no, end it now.

‘Yes, I’ll be here,’ she said.

*

As Anna rounded the corner to her house, she could see that there was another parcel peeping out from behind her wheely bin. She couldn’t wait until she got inside to open it. She ripped the paper off to find a heart-shaped box of Ferrero Rocher. She looked around to see if she could see Tony peeping out from a hiding place where he was stationed to watch her reaction. Surely he was going to make a move soon? First a photo-plate, then a rose and now this: a third week of presents with no follow-up. Anna caught a fleeting glimpse of Butterfly slipping through the widow’s fence as if he too was teasing her with a hint of his presence but not a chance of full-show.

Yet.

Tony Parker, what the hell are you up to?

By the time Dawn got home, Calum was already there with a Chinese meal keeping warm in the oven.

‘Makes a change, I know what you’re going to say!’ he laughed. ‘Thought I’d give you a nice surprise.’

‘Lovely,’ she said, pasting on a smile, but in truth she felt nothing. And when he hinted at an early night and raised his eyebrows suggestively, she lied and said she had just started a period, which would keep him at a safe distance, she knew.

She was up the next morning, not bright but early after a restless night’s sleep. Her head was like a washing machine full of different coloured items. She was a mess of contradictions and duty was a struggle.
Why did I go off early last night
? Why did she cut short the precious time she had with Al Holly in the beer garden? It wasn’t as if she had loads of it with him left to waste. And all night her imagination had seemed hell-bent on finishing off the evening for her, had she stayed. What if she had leaped on him and kissed him? Calum would have been in waiting for her with a Chinese meal and she would have been snogging another man. She felt as guilty as if she had actually done it. She took a couple of Nurofen with her morning toast because a stress headache was just threatening at her temple.

She was at Muriel’s for 10 a.m. and for once Demi was up and dressed. It appeared she had a brand-new boyfriend – Liam – on the scene and he had obviously injected a bit of life into her. As well as other bodily fluids.

Denise didn’t seem impressed with him.

‘He’s another dicksplash,’ she confided in Dawn. ‘She’ll be dumped this time next week, you mark my words. Plus I’m sure he has a girlfriend already so she’s heading for a thump. Anyway, what are we doing for your hen night? Where do you fancy? Blackpool? Too far maybe . . . hmm, let me think.’

‘Oh, I wasn’t going to bother,’ said Dawn. It wasn’t as if she had hordes of mates to invite. And she couldn’t exactly see Christie and Grace dancing on tables in a gay bar in Blackie.

She watched Denise’s face suddenly form into something quite unpleasant.

‘God, you can be a miserable beggar, Dawn!’ she said. ‘Well, you’re having one whether you like it or not.
We
want one if we’re going through all this bridesmaid crap for you.’ And she huffed impatiently and turned and muttered something about going to the loo before they went across the road to Bette’s house. Her reaction shocked Dawn. She had thought Denise was more on her side than that. Her wedding, which she had thought would bring her completely into the bosom of the family, was doing the opposite – turning it all into a Bride versus
Us
competition.

Across the road, big Bette sipped delicately from a china cup and beamed as the bridesmaids modelled her creations.

The dresses were bright orange and Demi’s neckline was so low she could have been wearing it and still appeared on the centre pages of
Playboy
. She adjusted her boobs so they stuck out of the top in big squashy semi-circles.

‘I got Bette to lower my neckline a bit as well,’ Denise said, adjusting her much smaller bosom inside her dress. ‘Might as well give the vicar a flash and cheer up his day. Hope you don’t mind.’

‘No, ’course not,’ said Dawn, hating herself because what she wanted to say was, ‘Yes, I bloody well do mind. And if that is peach, then I’m Cheryl Cole!’ Plus the fabric smelled of cigarette smoke. How could it not, being stored in the fug of this house?

‘Chuffing hell, I feel like a space hopper,’ said Demi, voicing some of what was in Dawn’s head. ‘Thought it was supposed to be peach!’

‘Well, they didn’t have that exact shade of peach in the warehouse so I went for the next best thing. Plus this was a lot cheaper. You don’t want to be spending a fortune for one day, do you?’ Bette explained, dunking a digestive into her cup. ‘I ran it past Mu first.’

‘There’s not that much difference,’ said Mu, confirming with a nod what Bette had said.

‘You two haven’t been to Specsavers recently, have you?’ smirked Demi.

Why didn’t you run it past ME – I’m the bride!
screamed Dawn inside. But she wouldn’t have dared risk the wrath of the Crooke women by saying as much.

‘Itches like fuck,’ said Demi.