As Weekends Go (Choc Lit) (19 page)

Greg glanced up as his secretary walked in with his coffee. They usually went through his in tray on a Monday morning, but given that he had a headache brewing, his first meeting of the day in fifteen minutes, and had stayed up way too late the night before, his brain buzzing with post-conference admin and his glorious lovemaking session with Nina, she could swivel.

‘Morning, Mim,’ he said, trying to sound halfway normal.

‘Is it?’ She’d obviously noticed the bags under his eyes. ‘You look a bit peaky, Greg. Are you feeling all right?’

Greg opened his desk drawer, taking out a packet of paracetamol tablets.

‘Oh, dear. Shall I leave you in peace?’ said Mim, her face full of motherly concern.

‘If you don’t mind,’ said Greg, asking her to close the door behind her.

He popped two tablets on his tongue. Good old Miriam. She knew him so well.

Annoyingly, his desk phone buzzed.

‘Yes, Mim?’

‘Sorry, Greg, I’ve got Nina O’Donnell on the phone.’ His headache brightened. ‘I thought you might want to take it as she’s from Torrison.’

‘Yeah, sure. Put her through.’ He relaxed back in his chair, a smile already forming on his lips. ‘
Nina!
’

‘
Morning, Greg.’ Her tone was surprisingly formal. ‘I’ll cut to the chase as someone could burst in here at any moment. I’m in the stockroom, would you believe, piles of stationery everywhere. My office is being used for a training session. Are you free for lunch tomorrow? Say one thirtyish. I’ve got some ideas I’d like to run past you as soon as poss.’

‘Yes, I can be,’ he said, springing forward in his chair. ‘Everything okay?’

‘Never better. A little birdie told me this morning that Rutland Finance is definitely on board. Your presentation swung it, you clever, clever man. Although you didn’t hear that from me. I’m telling you in case the chief knobs take the credit. Anyway, seeing as how it will be my baby as far as promoting things goes, I thought we could meet to discuss phase one. What do you think? I know I asked about meeting Rebecca over lunch one day, but not on this occasion as there’ll be too much business jargon. Well … for most of the time, anyway.’

Greg read her loud and clear.

‘Fantastic!’ he said, punching the air. ‘But don’t you think we should wait until we’ve heard the official statement. I’m not even sure I’ll be overseeing things yet. The boss might want to do it.’

‘No, no, it’ll definitely be you. That’s part of the deal. It’ll all be public knowledge by close of play today.’

Greg’s headache sailed off over the horizon. ‘Great! Then it’s a date.’

He stared at the phone after replacing the receiver, euphoria thrumming in his ears.

Steve Wolfe, one of his colleagues, stood loitering outside. He popped his head round Greg’s door. ‘Sorry, mate, but has the boss said anything official to you about Torrison yet? Only he’s walking round like he’s Billy Big Shot.’

Greg beckoned him in. ‘A reliable source within assures me it’s a cert.’

Steve’s smile nearly split his face. ‘Your sassy brunette friend you were lunching with yesterday, you mean?’

‘I wondered when you’d bring that up.’

‘Well, can you blame me? She’s a bit special,’ said Steve, straightening his tie. ‘Not that Mrs S isn’t, of course.’

‘No comment!’ It was pointless talking to Steve about women. He’d bedded so many of them behind his wife’s back that Greg could have been lunching with the bearded lady and he’d have read something into it. ‘Don’t worry,’ he said, seeing Mim tap her watch at the window. ‘I know what I’m doing.’

He gathered up his papers and, along with Steve, strolled off to the boardroom, headache-free.

When Nick had announced he was staying in on Sunday night, the other stags had been merciless. Amidst howls of derision, he’d reclaimed his phone from a gurning Gary and retired to his room, where he’d proceeded to delete anything Cassie-related from it immediately. The bastard had even changed Nick’s homescreen to a photo of her face.

Now, on Monday morning, whilst the others were snoring off their hangovers, he laced up his trainers, pulled down his England baseball cap, and crept out of the apartment in search of jewellery shops, giving himself a huge pat on the back for having the nous to previously note down Abi’s ring size.

The owner of the first shop he reached, who’d only just raised the shutters to open for business, seemed convinced that the shifty looking Englishman standing there, glancing up and down the street, scratching his stubble, was a robber, until Nick had persuaded him that he was there to buy an engagement ring.

Several diamond solitaires later, when he’d selected one and whipped out his visa card to pay for it, the man had almost kissed Nick’s feet.

On his way back, Nick excitedly greeted total strangers with a cheery ‘
hola
’, blew kisses to a dusky señorita who bibbed her car horn at him, and bought a wooden giraffe and two bangles from a Moroccan street trader. All of which kept him out for far longer than planned.

Something he now regretted as he spotted Deano and Gary supping pints in the café bar beneath their apartment block.

He dived into an adjoining souvenir shop. Short of stuffing it down his shorts, how the hell was he supposed to get a bag with
Juan’s Jewellers
on it past them?

Eager to keep vigil, he slithered behind a postcard stand. It had gone eleven o’clock. Before long the other stags would appear, then he’d truly be stuffed. Somehow he had to get round the back without Deano and Gary seeing him. The last thing he wanted was one of them ruining Abi’s surprise. That’s why he’d phoned her so early this morning. So they wouldn’t hear him telling her to book a restaurant table for tomorrow night. He didn’t trust Gary, in particular, not to ring her and spoil it. After the Cassie fiasco, who knew what he’d do?

Nick pretended to flick through the postcards, but faced with a rack of bronzed bare buttocks, hopped behind an inflatable dolphin so as not to look sleazy.

‘You
wan
to buy?’

Nick twirled round. A young shop assistant with an aquamarine nose stud stood grinning at him.

‘Er … no, thanks,’ he said, one eye on the café.

She looked crushed. So he bought a sunhat instead, which was a stroke of genius because he now had a carrier bag large enough not only to hide a hideous pink straw boater, but the ring, giraffe and bangles too.

He walked out of the shop, whistling.
Problemo
solved!

A taxi pulled up outside the café. Cassie and her two chums emerged in sarongs and tiny bikini tops. Nick stepped back just in time, forced to re-acquaint himself with Flipper, his only spark of hope being that Deano looked about as pleased to see the trio as he did.

Desperate to know what was going on, Nick pulled out his phone, punched in the word ‘DOLPHIN’ and sent it via text to Deano’s mobile.

Moments later, his friend stood up, indicated to Gary that he was going to buy a newspaper, and strolled over.

Nick pulled him inside the shop.

‘What’s with the cryptics?’ said Deano, grinning down at the straw hat in Nick’s gaping bag.

‘Never mind all that.’ Nick wiped his sweaty forehead. ‘Why are those three here?’

‘Because we bumped into them last night. Gary drank a bathful of beer and decided to stitch you up again. He told Cassie you fancy her but are too hen-pecked to do anything about it. He said you hadn’t gone out because you had the shits, but would be here today.’ Deano paused. ‘Also …’

There was
more
?

‘He’s invited them all to Puerto Banus tonight.’

‘You’re joking?’ Nick clenched his fists. ‘It’s our last night. I’m not missing out on that.’

‘You don’t have to.’ Deano put his hand on Nick’s shoulder. ‘Gary caused all this so let him look after them. Once we’re in the club, we’ll give ’em the slip, find a bar, shoot some pool, just you and me. What do you say?’

‘Top man!’

‘Don’t you forget it, Jordan.’

Shoulder to shoulder they strode out of the shop. Nick gave a brief wave and a smile to Cassie, then rubbed his tummy, pretending he needed to get inside as fast as possible, before legging it after Deano into the apartment block.

Rebecca carefully packed away the bottle of single malt and whisky liqueurs she’d bought for Greg, her trepidation of what lay ahead rising and falling like choppy waves, compounded by the thought of leaving Alex behind. If she could get out without seeing his face again, she’d be fine.

Wouldn’t she?

She closed her eyes.

No wonder she felt sick. Abi was probably tucking into eggs and bacon now. All Rebecca had available to eat was the leftover mottled banana on her fruit platter.

She stepped into her gold mules and wandered onto the balcony. It was still as hot outside, but instead of the brilliant blue sky of yesterday, it was as if someone had come along and whitewashed it.

Her eyes travelled the length of the shaded pool, up over the archway, to the terrace.

‘
SHIT!
’ Alex and Kenny.

She dropped to her knees, crawled behind one of the sun loungers and peeped through the railings. Neither of them had seen her, thank goodness. Kenny was ogling a blonde in a purple one-piece. Alex was sitting there, fiddling with his phone, oblivious to the clutch of females lying close by. Rebecca could see them admiring him in his black tracksuit bottoms and white T-shirt, pecs shown off to perfection, probably thinking, like her, how good he looked.

Abi emerged from the bar’s rear entrance and marched across the terrace towards them. Rebecca saw Alex raise his sunglasses, stand and pull out a chair for her to join them. Kenny was leaning over the table to kiss her. Abi was laughing and chatting with them. It was like observing three strangers.

Rebecca lifted her head to get a better view.

Unexpectedly, Kenny turned and looked straight up at her balcony.

Rebecca nearly knocked herself out, she hit the tiles so fast. She had visions of him producing a loud hailer from under the table and shouting: ‘We can
see
you, treacle.’ Not that he’d need it.

She wriggled on her belly through the French doors.

Blast it!
Now her mobile was ringing.

She grabbed it off the bed. It was Abi. Rebecca let it click into voicemail, waited a few seconds then, fingers trembling, listened to the message.

‘Hi, Bex. I know you want to be alone, but if you change your mind and fancy a latte, or something, I’m sitting on the terrace with Alex and Kenny. Don’t worry, they can’t hear me, I’ve walked over to the pool for a moment. Alex looked crestfallen when he saw you weren’t with me. Anyway, no pressure. Speak later.’

Rebecca’s resolve surrendered. She’d thought they’d check out, go straight to York station, have lunch and then get on the train. Yet realistically, could she leave without saying goodbye? Despite the weekend’s ups and downs, how ungrateful would it look? How could she snub Alex like that, as though none of it had mattered?

No … however emotional she felt, she had to rise above it. She flung her phone in her bag, picked up her key card and set off down the corridor. She remembered how stunned she’d been when she’d first seen Alex walk past her doorway on Friday. How blissfully unaware of what lie in store she’d been. It seemed absurd to think she might never have even approached him for an autograph.

She bypassed The Doberman in reception, who was too busy yapping at one of her poor scarlet-faced colleagues to notice her. Now all she had to do was walk through the bar to the terrace, give her thanks and say her goodbyes, before going back to Purley where she belonged.

Abi hadn’t expected to find herself alone with Alex on the pool terrace. She’d texted Rebecca earlier, letting her know where they were, and had this minute received a reply from her to say she was on her way, via the long route as she wanted to take a few snaps of the manor grounds.

Abi pictured her mooching along, chattering away to herself, head no doubt still in turmoil over facing Alex again.

And good on you for doing so, sweetheart!

Kenny, having recognised an ex-client of his he’d trained ambling across the grass, was currently locked in conversation with him in the bar doorway.

Abi wondered how much longer he’d be. Rebecca too.

Should she seize what might be her only chance to say something to Alex whilst she had him on his own? He looked so down, she wanted to shift her chair round to his side of the table and give him a great big cuddle.

What a stink that would cause! The four women posing by the poolside were staring at her as if they wanted to scalp her.

She hadn’t given much thought to the ‘sexy, flash, fast cars, moneybags footballer’ package that attracted some women. Yes, she’d seen stories splashed across newspapers from time to time about this player or that player, plus Nick was a big footie fan so was forever going on about it, but she’d never taken enough interest in the sport. Any sport, in fact!

Until now.

Would she have pre-judged Alex had she known who he was before she met him?
Possibly, yes!
Seemed an awful thought, given how modest he appeared. All that money, fame and success, yet so unpretentious.

Unlike you, Greg Stafford.

‘What time do you need to check out?’ Alex suddenly asked her.

‘In a quarter of an hour. Doesn’t mean we have to leave then though.’ She hung her head to one side. ‘She’ll be okay, you know. She’s just a bit emotional right now.’

Alex regarded her for a second. ‘I didn’t plan for this to happen. The last thing I wanted to do was upset her.’

‘You haven’t.’ Abi decided to risk it. Rebecca might string her up for it, but Alex deserved to know the truth. ‘Well, not directly, anyway. Bex has got a lot of crap going on in her life at the moment, well, in her marriage.’ She took a sip of her now lukewarm skinny latte to garner some valuable thinking time. She could tell by Alex’s demeanour how gutted he was. Perhaps she ought to tell him how enamoured with him Rebecca was. The man clearly felt the same about her.

What piss poor timing for the two of them!

Oh, bugger it! Nothing ventured …

She let out a deliberately long sigh. ‘If only things were different, eh?’

Alex carried on regarding her, straight-faced.

‘Oops! Just thinking aloud,’ she said. ‘I’m not Rebecca’s husband’s biggest fan, you see.’
Come on you gorgeous man, ask me, ask me.

But if anything, Alex looked wary.

‘Sorry,’ she said, feigning remorse. ‘We hardly know each other, and here I am banging on about some guy you don’t know from Adam.’
Oh, Abi, you’ll never get to heaven.
‘Maybe if you knew what I knew, you’d understand.’

Alex frowned at her.

A reaction. This was more like it.

‘I mean, Bex has done so much to support him over the years and when it seems like everything’s settled, he starts acting all strange on her. She’s got so much love to give and he’s chucking it all back in her face.’

‘Pretty stiff accusations. You’re really close to her, aren’t you?’

‘I love her to bits,’ said Abi. ‘She’ll be along soon. She wanted to take some photos around the grounds.’

Alex’s frown gave way to a semi-smile. ‘Yeah, she said something about that last night when we were sitting in the gardens.’ He scraped back his chair. ‘Do you mind if I talk to her?’

‘Be my guest. Oh, but …’

‘Don’t worry. I won’t drop you in it. I need to find her first.’

Abi watched him break into a jog as he passed Kenny and entered the bar and, despite her guilt at having let her tongue run away with her so badly, she somehow knew this weekend would carry significance. Thank goodness she had tomorrow off work too. With all that had happened, she’d need it.

Sunlight burst through the clouds. Someone up there must be conspiring, she thought. This could be explosive.

‘What have I missed?’ asked Kenny, returning to the table. ‘Where did Alex piss off too?’

‘Wouldn’t you like to know?’ said Abi, beaming at him.

Alex walked past reception. ‘Morning, Violet.’

‘Mr Heath!’ The Doberman morphed into a poodle as he flashed her a smile.

Alex didn’t stop. He had the main entrance in his sights.

The concierge was standing at the foot of the hotel steps. ‘Morning, sir.’

‘Morning, Bernard.’ Alex patted the older man’s sloping shoulder. ‘How are you doing?’

‘Never better, thank you.’ Bernard gave a discreet look towards the gardens. ‘Bit like the rose bushes, sir. Peach ones look particularly attractive today.’ He inclined his wrinkly forehead towards them again. ‘If you get my drift, sir?’

Alex did.

‘Cheers, Bernard!’
He pulled down his sunglasses and heeded his collaborator’s advice.

A group of golfers up ahead waved at him. Alex waved back then clamped his phone to his ear to ensure they wouldn’t distract him.

When he reached the gardens there was no sign of Rebecca anywhere. Either that, or Bernard had X-ray vision. He scanned the rose bushes again. And then he saw her, sitting amongst them on the grass, camouflaged by her sun top, holding her phone in front of her, pointing it at the cones and spirals in the topiary section.

She swished away a butterfly with her ponytail.

Alex coughed to alert her, but instead of turning round, she jumped up, almost dropping her phone, arms flailing. Bit extreme over a butterfly. But then as she turned side on, he saw the monster-sized bumble bee crawling up her top.

He shot forward, wafting it away. Her arms were already speckled in bites. If that big boy stung her, she’d be hospitalised.

‘Must have thought you were a flower,’ he said, seeing the relief on her face.

She bowed her head, stashed away her mobile in her bag. Alex longed to pull her into his arms.

‘Let’s sit over there,’ he said instead, leading her over to a grass verge, overhung by a yew tree. He took off his sunglasses, thinking it best to clear the air straight away. ‘I’m not proud of asking to kiss another man’s wife, Rebecca.’

‘Alex …
please.
’ She rubbed her forehead, her eyes slightly puffy he thought, making him feel even worse. ‘Look, I didn’t want to leave here without saying goodbye to you, but now that we’re sitting here …’ she stalled mid-sentence, brushing a leaf off her shoulder. ‘Why can’t I find the right words?’

‘It’s okay,’ he said, desperate for her to look at him.

‘I suppose what I’m trying to say is that I’ve really enjoyed your company, but you’re single, and I’m not, and if I’ve led you on at all this weekend, then I apologise. Believe it or not, I’m very happy with Greg. It may be that you had no intentions towards me, whatsoever, so I’m probably making a complete fool of myself here, but I think it’s fair to let you know where I stand.’ She looked past him, jutting out her chin as though she thought this would somehow bolster her case.

Alex knew she was lying, of course he did, but couldn’t bear to heap any more pressure on her. She’d erected a barrier between them which he respected too much to challenge.

He pushed forward off the verge, replaced his sunglasses, effectively ending their conversation. ‘Fair enough.’ He turned to go, then stopped, looked back at her. ‘You didn’t lead me on, so wipe that thought from your mind right now.’

‘Okay,’ she whispered. ‘I’m sorry, Alex.’

‘Not as sorry as me,’ he said, leaving her alone in the gardens.

Anyone strolling by would have thought Rebecca was hyperventilating. Not even her crush on her old science teacher had felt this bad. Maybe she should curl up beneath the yew tree and hibernate.

She stood up to regain her breath, not a soul about to witness her pain, except two ladybirds zigzagging their way across the tree bark. To think that this time next month she’d be sitting on the sofa with a mug of hot chocolate watching Alex score on the telly, as though they’d never even met, seemed absurd. She was beginning to wonder whether she’d dreamt everything. Maybe the men in white coats should take her away for psychoanalysis.

The sound of her mobile ringing shocked her back to her senses.

‘Bex, where are you?’ Abi’s voice, fraught with urgency. ‘It’s half eleven. We need to check out.’

What?

‘I’ll be right there,’ said Rebecca, running across the gardens.

As she neared the hotel, Alex drove out of the car park without seeing her.

She stopped short, her breath snagging, the giddy feeling of having a chair whipped from beneath her not even coming close.

She stared up at Abi, who was standing on the entrance steps, hands on hips.

‘What happened?’

‘I can’t talk about it,’ Rebecca replied. ‘Let’s just check out and go.’

Abi obstructed Rebecca’s path as she made to walk past. ‘Okay. Confession. I know Greg generously paid for our train tickets, but Kenny’s offered to drive us back to London. He’s also blagged us a noon check out. I rushed you back here because I thought you might want to see Alex again before we leave. He came back to the pool terrace after coming to find you, said he’d see us later, then went. Me and Kenny just looked at each other blankly. I knew something was amiss, and now Alex has driven off. What did you say to him, Bex?’

Rebecca squeezed Abi’s arm. ‘If I tell you now, I’ll crack. I need to get my holdall from upstairs, okay?’

Frustrated, Abi traipsed into the bar.

‘What a mess,’ she groaned, interrupting Kenny and Danny’s conversation about whether or not some Chelsea striker was past it. ‘I need a drink.’

‘Rebecca?’ Kenny enquired, eyes searching Abi’s face for extra clues as Danny fixed her a vodka and tonic.

Abi checked round for eavesdroppers. ‘Kenny, you have to get Alex back here now.’

‘You what?’

‘I know it’s a lot to ask, but if you don’t you’ll have one regretful lady in the back of your car on the journey back to London.’

‘Whoah! Slow down, you’re giving me heartburn.’

Abi would give him a black eye if he wasn’t careful!

‘Look, if Bex has mucked him about in any way, she’s history,’ said Kenny. ‘Alex takes no shit from no one any more. Anyway, we’re out of here soon.’

Danny tapped the bar to attract their attention. ‘I’ve just spotted Rebecca in reception, guys.’

Abi leapt off her stool. ‘Keep an eye on my case, will you, boys? Back in a tick.’

She joined Rebecca in the lobby, where they settled their bills – Abi’s littered with mini bar entries – and handed back their key cards.

‘The concierge would like a word before you leave,’ snapped The Doberman, addressing Rebecca.

‘About what?’ mouthed Rebecca to Abi.

‘I’ll go and finish off my vodka,’ said Abi, turning to leave. ‘Here, give me your holdall, I’ll put it with my case.’

‘Before you go.’ Rebecca looped her little finger around her friend’s. ‘About Alex. We had a chat, said our farewells, sort of …’ she paused to swallow. ‘It feels like someone’s scooped out my insides; there’s this big vacuum. Ridiculous, isn’t it? I mean, how long exactly have I known him?’

Abi moved to embrace her, but stopped herself in case she made her cry. Bex would be mortified if that happened in front of a lobbyful of people. ‘Hey, no words needed. And it is
not
ridiculous, okay? Now go find Bernard, before he keels over.’

By now the foyer was packed. Caterers bustling about, suit-wearing men and women holding clipboards, a merry-go-round of guests checking in and out, passing each other on the stairs, or simply taking in the decadence of the manor.

A young couple rushed in, the doorman in tow. First visit to York they were saying.

Lucky things.

Rebecca saw Jack Byrnes waddle forward to greet them. They’d clocked his nose and were trying not to laugh. A carbon copy of how she and Abi had reacted last Friday.

Oh, to turn back the clock …

She joined the queue at Bernard’s pamphlet-strewn desk. He was explaining in French to three women at the front how to get to Betty’s Tea Rooms. They seemed enthralled by his efforts. Rebecca imagined Bernard was quite a catch in his prime.

Two car hires and three restaurant bookings later, she reached the front of the queue.

‘You wanted to see me, Bernard?’

‘Yes, madam.’ He glanced furtively at reception. ‘Sorry about the wait.’ He reached under the desk. ‘This is for you,’ he said, handing her a small, white envelope with
Rebecca
written on the front of it. ‘I hope you enjoyed your stay at Hawksley Manor.’

She edged aside, aware of one of the New Yorkers standing behind her with a gigantic pair of binoculars round his neck’s impatiently tutting. ‘Thanks, Bernard.’

Palms sweating, she dashed outside to the crowded car park and hid round the corner, behind some wheelie bins. When she was sure no one was looking, she tore open the envelope. A card fell out, roughly the size of a luggage label. One side was blank. On the other side were Alex’s home and mobile phone numbers.

Rebecca gasped, blinked twice and gasped again. Beneath the numbers was a handwritten message, simply saying:
Rebecca, if you should ever need to contact me. Alex.

She caressed the card to her bosom. Rip it up and throw it away? No fear. This was something she’d treasure.

Three cleaners carrying mops and buckets burst out of a side door.

‘Are you all right?’ one of them enquired, clearly wondering if Rebecca was in some kind of hypnotic trance.

‘Fine thanks.’ Red-faced, she shoved the card in her handbag and jogged back into the lobby.

She passed Jack Byrnes on the way in, who made a quip about her shoulder, but it didn’t register. Nothing registered, apart from knowing that if she didn’t see Alex again before she went home today, she’d regret it.